Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 2/15/21 Nik Curfman 2/15/21

Abstract: Medical Miracles

But for a son with only one dad,

Miracles that involve blood tests, CT scans, and surgery,

Are no less grand.

It’s not spit and mud from the hand of the King,

Or walking on water,

Or glorious resurrection.

But for a son with only one dad,

Miracles that involve blood tests, CT scans, and surgery,

Are no less grand.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 2/14/21 Nik Curfman 2/14/21

Abstract: You Are My Friend

Is it fun,

In your cell?

Does the weed dull your brain?

Are there enough shots the bottle to shush the truth away?

Is it fun,

In your cell?

Does the weed dull your brain?

Are there enough shots the bottle to shush the truth away?

Sure seems like they gave you everything to make you comfortable,

During your stay.

Behind those bars, they keep the dopamine flowing,

Your head down,

Your pride intact.

I can see your dilemma,

Because I’m not distracted by your guards: greed, sloth, and anger.

You’re so far from the brilliance made for you,

From before time,

You can’t risk the safety of your doom.

But, I am your friend.

I will not relent.

I will pray and fight for your tender heart.

Greater is the One in me than than the drugs that lock you in the haze.

And He,

He loves you.

His heart is an open ocean of love,

All for you.

Nothing you believe or do can separate you from Him.

So, I will stand my post, and my watch,

For you.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 2/12/21 Nik Curfman 2/12/21

Abstract: Race To The Top, Not For Me

Read the books and blogs,

Listen to that podcast,

Honesty and vulnerable discussion,

Just another marketing mask.

A is for excellence,

F is for failure.

More money is better than no money.

Better stand up tall, better be tall.

Test scores, and final scores.

Only champions and class presidents need apply.

Qualified candidates, and competitive admissions.

Most votes wins, second place is an eternal loser.

Climb the ladder, reach for the top,

The grind for best, first, and always,

Never, ever, stops.

KPIs, and data analytics,

Dashboards, and quotas,

Sales goals,

Quarterly reports,

And dividend yields.

Attendance, and follows,

Views, and engagement,

Commodity influence,

To be all of the above.

Read the books and blogs,

Listen to that podcast,

Honesty and vulnerable discussion,

Just another marketing mask.

Be better,

Do better.

More, MORE, MOOOOORE!!

No place to rest,

To live,

To be.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 2/10/21 Nik Curfman 2/10/21

Abstract: My Audience Of One

Then He takes my scribbles and sticks,

Using one of the many magnets on the big ass fridge next to the Throne,

And places my childish creation where everyone will see.

He’s my audience of One.

(There’s a sad time,

Between being an innocent boy and a guilty man,

When a young soul is crushed from who it is,

Into the mold of what it should be.

When scribbles on paper are no longer a source of joy,

When the lines are critiqued,

And the shading is judged.

The room of joy, the art room, becomes a lab.

Imagination replaced by standard production.

Each product held against the rest.

Never of its own.)

The judges are never louder than when I’m alone.

Years churn,

Attempts are made.

New tubes of paint lay unused,

And rasps turn to rust.

A thousand inspirations forever unseen, forever vanished into eternity.

I feel too unworthy to try, and condemned in my waste of what could be.

Does a cave of abandonment exist,

Free of the court and galley,

The lab and the showroom floor?

Where it’s just me?

Yes.

It’s called the Throne Room.

It’s bright and lined with white columns.

At the far end is where He is.

And big ass refrigerator.

That big ass refrigerator next to the seat where He sits,

It’s covered with magnets.

And He’s waiting while I work.

He’s waiting to smile and pat me on the head.

He’s waiting to say “well done son, I know where this is going.”

Then He takes my scribbles and sticks,

Using one of the many magnets on the big ass fridge next to where He sits,

And places my childish creation where everyone will see.

He’s my audience of One.

The only one that matters to me.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 2/8/21 Nik Curfman 2/8/21

Abstract: What If?

What if I didn’t write for you?

What if I didn’t care how well I spelled or slung words together?

What if I didn’t write for you?

What if I didn’t care how well I spelled or slung words together?

What if didn’t torture myself with approval or acceptance?

Praise and affirmation?

What if?

I could be something.

Then who?

Who should I write to?

Him?

Yeah.

Him.

Good enough.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 2/4/21 Nik Curfman 2/4/21

Abstract: Assurance of The Unseen.

Tonight is the night to latch onto hope,

And lean into the assurance of the Unseen.

The gates closed, and I beat my fists bloody,

Knocking to be let in.

Lost and alone in the night,

I blamed me,

I slandered me,

I convicted me,

Of worthlessness and sins beyond redemption.

What we honor, what we love, we do not leave to the darkness to rust,

For vandals and thieves.

Exhausted from the pounding struggle,

To be accepted and loved,

I relented to my nothingness, naked without purpose or use.

For good measure,

The foul wind whistled and cackled at my sorrow,

Each breath from my lungs,

Exposed by the chill and the moon light,

A harsh reminder,

I am here, but will soon be forgotten.

In the stillness I remained,

And more I waited.

The lies began to die, and accusations faded.

For too long stared at the locked gates,

The embodiment of my shame,

Rejected again.

With my eyes closed,

I focused on my breath,

One deep draw after another, my chest rising and falling in rhythm.

I began to sway with the evergreens and enjoy the scent of their pines.

At my back, the river laughed like a chorus of children,

Innocent and clean,

Nature extended her kind hand.

I have demanded honors I could not accept,

and longed for lovers I did not deserve.

I could stay.

I could dance for the people in the watch towers,

Cook to delight the king and queen inside,

I could do all the things to make myself into something they want,

What I do not want to be.

What I thirst for is not behind locked gates.

What I want is not the momentary approval,

Cheap graces and easily won loyalty.

Chin tucked to my chest,

Only honest words existed in this moment of solitude.

I am in pain,

Rejection coursing through my veins,

An old drug, from an old habit.

Tonight, I will not repent or beg forgiveness,

Rather for courage and hope,

Vision and strength.

I cannot answer why I long for the praise,

A riddle to be remedied some other day,

When the Spirit deems so.

This frigid night,

Surround by creation,

I do not curse the closed doors or those who locked them.

Instead, as my heart cries for love and acceptance,

I will not focus on what I do not have.

Tonight is the night to latch onto hope,

And lean into the assurance of the Unseen.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 2/2/21 Nik Curfman 2/2/21

Abstract: Sunshine and the Storms

Nothing of this world or the next,

Not a thought, emotion, or belief,

That can or could separate me from Him,

His light and constant Grace.

Here I stand, where the dark clouds and sunshine meet.

The bright light against the ominous shadow is stunning.

All truth in a snapshot of Nature.

I once lived in fear of the storms,

Even on the sunniest of days,

My thoughts reminded me of the thunder to come.

And, come it did.

Violent wind and lightning stomped its way through my heart,

At times, in endless waves.

I felt alone and lost,

Unworthy of anything but chaos and shame.

In my powerlessness, I medicated with temporary pleasures and sad songs,

Doomed to sit in the pit of self-pity I dug for me.

“What is life?” I wondered.

Then, on an ordinary day, in an ordinary way, I beheld my constant friend,

The Sun.

Our source of life and light, warmth and health.

He’s is always there, shinning His blessing on each of us.

The downpours come and go, but the Sun remains.

Day after day, I began to focus on the Him,

And, His grace eternal.

Day after day, I began to believe in the power of the Sun to heal my life,

Rather than the ability of the storms to destroy it.

Now, I know the Truth beyond experience or feeling.

Storms are part of life- a necessary part of life.

Regardless of how black their shadow or loud their scream,

The Sun still shines on the other side, and I will behold Him again.

When the rage subsides and the cover fades,

I will march out into His bright light,

To absorb His goodness, and find my strength renewed.

There is nothing on earth, old or new,

Nothing of this world or the next,

Not a thought, emotion, or belief,

That can or could separate me from Him,

His light and constant Grace.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 1/30/21 Nik Curfman 1/30/21

Abstract: Romans 8, If I Wrote It

Not one dame thing in our entire universe,

Ever could, because it never will,

Separate any of us from the Love and Goodness of our Holy Father.

This is what it means to be “in Christ Jesus.”

Always connected. Always powerful. Always loved.

Who or what or how can we be cut off from our Jesus? Tell me!

By life’s bullshit? Poor decisions? Imperfection? By circumstance? Frustration? Poverty? Or communism?

Ancient words say so…”For Him, we are murdered every single day. We are powerless to stop the powerful.”

But…I don’t believe any of it. In our sweet Jesus, weak as we are, we are made champions.

So, I’m certain, in every fiber of my soul,

Not being murdered or diseased,

Not one part of a life,

Not the distraction of an Angelic army or bastards from hell,

No sin of my past or strongholds to come,

Not the powerful politicians, Wall Street stock brokers, or academic dicks,

Not one damn thing in our entire universe,

Ever could, because it never will,

Separate any of us from the Love and Goodness of our Holy Father.

This is what it means to be “in Christ Jesus.”

Always connected. Always powerful. Always loved.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 1/27/21 Nik Curfman 1/27/21

Abstract: Don’t Fight The Lies, Accept the Truth

So on this dreary morning, full of doubt,

I will not answer my attacker or plead my case.

I will not submit evidence to the court as proof of my worth.

Nah.

I will rise and whisper:

Lord, here I am.

As the day dawned, I rolled over and longed for more of the night.

Alone in my bed, rancid thoughts pushed their way to the front of my mind.

How long will I accuse myself? Judge the creation of the Lord?

Am I not like the rest of His of work?

Am I not Good?

The ancient answer is apparent and obvious: Yes.

I am Good.

For everything He made He called Good.

From this perch, my mind shouts its strongest indictment:

If I am good, why do I struggle?

Why?

No amount of extra sleep or wishing away the dawn is an antidote to the sickness of my imperfection.

Suddenly, like the rising sun,

the Holy Spirit arrives in all Her kind glory,

The Accuser exposed.

She quietly reminds me of the eternal truth.

Yes, I am Good.

No, I am not perfect, not complete, not finished.

Perfection is not the expectation of the Spirit, but flawed men.

My servant Savior didn’t demand the perfection so preached in our churches.

He said,”Come after me. Seek the Father. The rest will care for itself.”

So on this dreary morning, full of doubt,

I will not answer my attacker or plead my case.

I will not submit evidence to the court as proof of my worth.

Nah.

I will rise and whisper:

Lord, here I am.

I give you everything that I am.

I lay down my doubts and pain,

my hopes and dreams.

I trust you and accept the life your planned for me,

Your grace, hopes and dreams,

Your eyes and ears for me.

Rip out the roots of the accuser,

Water the seeds You put in my heart,

Your will be done in my life and through my life this day.

I refuse to listen to the same lies that work to tie me down and hold me in shame,

I accept your Word over me.

I love You, and I’m so thankful You are real and love me.

Amen.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 1/26/21 Nik Curfman 1/26/21

Abstract: Night Vision

I’m not gonna feed my weeds,

Call them fear, doubt, and strain.

It’s those good seeds,

Love, hope, and vision to remain,

I’ll water in the dark,

Knowing the Son is on his way.

Everyday, every single second, is full of choice.

I choose to stand loud and proud,

to believe in the Light when sun starts to set.

Every time has a season. And every season has an end.

It’s what I do in the between, from mountain top to scenic ridge,

that sets my journey apart.

My faith is in His grace, and what He planted in me.

I’m not gonna feed my weeds,

Call them fear, doubt, and strain.

It’s those good seeds,

Love, hope, and vision to remain,

I’ll water in the dark,

Knowing the Son is on his way.

When words like cancer and demons named rejection coming knocking,

When the scale doesn’t move,

When this f*cking disease just won’t go away,

I am not alone.

Love is my foundation.

The best is yet to come.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 1/21/21 Nik Curfman 1/21/21

Abstraction: Psalm 23, If I Wrote IT

His Hands and Words guide my steps.
In the middle of my calamity, He says “let’s eat.”
He gives me tips on my hair and refills my beer.

“The Lord is my homie.

I don’t need anything.

He supplies all my needs, and sneaks me that good drink.

Yay, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of death, I say f*ck that evil.

Because Jesus the “Destroyer of Bullshit” is with me!

His Hands and Words guide my steps.

In the middle of my calamity, He says “let’s eat.”

He gives me tips on my hair and refills my beer.

I have no other choice but to sit under His grace and let his presence soak me to the bone.

This moment is just a thing.

But I…I will keep my eyes on Him.”

Psalm 23 (Nik Translation)

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 1/14/21 Nik Curfman 1/14/21

Abstract: Welcome Alien Brothers

Regardless of what the truth is about foreign life forms they are still subject to the One,

The great I Am,

Our Eternal Father.

If this be the case, they are our brothers and sisters too.

No less deserving of love, kindness, or affection.

What if aliens are real?

Grey people with wide black eyes,

And the ability to travel across the universe in ways we can only imagine.

My real “what if” is more of a ‘what does,’

As in ‘what does this mean about God?’

My God.

The Creator of my world and yours.

My fear assumes they will preach a gospel of a-theism,

And plunge our Earth into theological chaos.

Or perhaps, just mine.

My fear produces many assumptions without fact or reason.

If God is God, maker of the heavens and Earth,

The sun and moon, stars and physics,

He’s their God too.

Perhaps they know Him in ways we don’t.

It’s more likely, the alien beings are as diverse and divided as the human beings on this planet.

If the Lord made them, as He created us, they can choose life or death,

Love or pride. Peace or shame.

Perhaps they had a Garden of Perfection, an Adam and an Eve,

A serpent and a liar.

Yes. Any person in this universe knows evil is real and seeking who it may devour.

By chance, maybe, they do not know sin.

And all their progress, is the result of creative pursuits,

Springing from hearts and minds untethered to grief or pain.

Regardless of what the truth is about foreign life forms they are still subject to the One,

The great I Am,

Our Eternal Father.

If this is true, they are our brothers and sisters too.

No less deserving of love, kindness, or affection.