The key to protecting your heart is not allowing it to be anywhere that Christ is not. What I mean is that sometimes we don’t allow Christ to have full access of our lives, we sing our songs and raise our hands, we read our Bibles and pray our prayers. Yet, we don’t long for God the same way we long for others. That is why we fall into bad situations, we end up repeating addictions or bad habits. We end up in the wrong relationships, and damage them in the process.

When we say to Jesus, “Lord, have Your way in me, make something new.” we are telling God to have it all, and with that submission we start to see a change in our lives, a change of obedience, of trust, and how we look at others.

Jesus is the most important thing in all of creation, it would be wise to build your life around what He wants, and what He would do. By surrendering your heart to Him, you end up guarding it so well that you will only desire those holy things that God desires. A good marriage, helping those who need help, loving the unlovable, seeking justice, bringing about Christ’s kingdom to fruition, honoring the meek in spirit, and so on.

It is not enough that we get comfortable in our routines with God, because God is not wanting a robot, He wants a child that He can show the world to. He wants to take you places that you will have to trust Him completely, and He wants to make you a pro in the field of loving others truly.

Don’t wait for that boy or girl, start participating in the grand adventure of life, because we have been called by Christ to do so; and a ship is steered by the direction of its captain.

—    T.B. LaBerge // Go Now (via tblaberge)

(via simplytonka)

“ Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be. Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer. ”

—    Azra.T (via 69rooms)

(via living-captivated)

“ Your downfall.
Your apple, your architect, your wonder, your wander.
Your hand that feeds, your mouth that swallows, your temptation, your tempt-in, your honey and almond, your honey and bitten lips, your bitter, your biter, your fists and your longing
Your five years down the line, your unsure and you’re unsure, and your milk, your mouth
Your alter, your ungodly church, your prayers,
your teeth, your snarl,
your eat and your eaten, your eat her out, your feast, your banquet, your unholy offering, and your sighs and her sighs,
your lion’s soft, your lion’s roar, your grumbles, your tender,
your thighs and your stretch marks,
your thighs and your cigarette burns,
your cage, your arms, your cage
your lick, your growl, your possession, your lover, your guilt, your ‘I won’t love you in the morning,’ your mistake, your love, your sweetness, your mine, you’re mine,
your leaver, your leave-her,
your temptation, your downfall
Your regret, your longing, your lover
your love-her ”

—    Azra.T “The Hand That Feeds” after Jeanann Verlee’s ‘Almighty’  (via 5000letters)

(via hollowtowers)

On the southwest side of Capri
we found a little unknown grotto
where no people were and we
entered it completely
and let our bodies lose all
their loneliness.

All the fish in us
had escaped for a minute.
The real fish did not mind.
We did not disturb their personal life.
We calmly trailed over them
and under them, shedding
air bubbles, little white
balloons that drifted up
into the sun by the boat
where the Italian boatman slept
with his hat over his face.

Water so clear you could
read a book through it.
Water so buoyant you could
float on your elbow.
I lay on it as on a divan.
I lay on it just like
Matisse’s Red Odalisque.
Water was my strange flower,
one must picture a woman
without a toga or a scarf
on a couch as deep as a tomb.

The walls of that grotto
were everycolor blue and
you said, ‘Look! Your eyes
are seacolor. Look! Your eyes
are skycolor.’ And my eyes
shut down as if they were
suddenly ashamed.

—    "The Nude Swim," Anne Sexton (via commovente)

(via ibecamethesun)