"I make known the end from the beginning,
from ancient times, what is still to come.
I say: My purpose will stand,
and I will do all that I please." --Isaiah 46:10
Last week, I drove to Kerrville, TX in order to attend evening worship at the Mt. Wesley Retreat Center. Two hundred jr. high kids were attending Mt. Wesley for a week of fun, games, and the opportunity to explore their relationship with Jesus Christ.
I spent much of the 300 mile trip in communion with God. I worshiped the Holy One. I prayed for my loved ones. I prayed for what was going to take place that evening. People, near and dear to my heart, were in charge of leading the campers in the week's activities, teaching moments, and times of worship. My daughter and her friend had been invited to sing with the worship band that evening. All of this, I lifted up to the Father.
You might think after all that praying that I was done for the day.
But that was not so.
The leadership team and the worship band gathered before the kids arrived. They prayed with an urgency and a humility that only comes from those who are completely submitted to the will of the Father. Prayers for God's will, power, healing, strength, for the courage to answer God's call, and protection from the evil one, were spoken with fervency. It was obvious to me that the Lord intended to do a mighty work in the lives of those young campers. It was just as obvious that satan had much to lose and would do everything in his power to disrupt the evening's plans.
Later, as the kids poured into the worship center, I sat on a bench watching and waiting. I knew God intended me to be more than a spectator. It didn't take long before I recognized my assignment.
There were double doors leading into the room. Large and heavy, each time someone entered or exited the place they closed with a bang. On the surface, it may have seemed like no more than a minor distraction. But on a deeper level, it represented a subtle interruption of the worst kind...
{Bang}...and a split second later, a young mind loses their ability to focus and wonders again why they are there
{Bang}...and there is a disconnect between the heart beginning to be warmed and the praise words being sung
{Bang}...and the whisper of God's call that accompanies the pastor's message is lost
Without question, I walked to the doors in order to ease them closed each time someone passed through them. I felt conspicuous. Anyone coming in or out had to go around me. Even so, my discomfort was secondary to obeying God.
God had physically posted me at the door to do more than close it gently. He expected me to pray, with authority, over all that was happening inside, as well as that which was taking place outside.
I had my Bible with me and opened it to the Scripture lesson for the evening: Acts 1:1-11. For the remainder of the evening, my Bible remained opened to those pages.
These were the words I lifted high above my head in worship. These were the words I clung to when I boldly faced the doors and claimed, in Jesus' name, that the enemy had no authority, and had to leave the premises. These were the words I wept over when I could no longer stand up and found myself stretched out full length on the floor, weeping and shaking.
A part of me wanted to get up...I was in the way, someone was going to step on me, what if I was distracting someone? Another part of me was powerless to move. Twice, someone came and prayed over me. Overwhelmed, in God's presence, I could do nothing but remain on my face before Him.
Prompted by the Spirit, I began to pray. The prayer was simple but incredible...the same four words spoken over and over again. Thy Will Be Done. Each time I spoke them they took on new meaning.
Thy Will Be Done... and it was a plea that God move as He promised
Thy Will Be Done... and it was a surrender of my own selfish ways
Thy Will Be Done... and it was a declaration of faith in God Almighty
Thy Will Be Done... and it was a blanket of protection for those leading the way
Thy Will Be Done... and it was a stamp of authority against the darkness seeking to disrupt the holy awakening taking place in the hearts and minds of 200 precious souls
Thy Will Be Done... and I was in complete agreement with Him
Eventually, I was able to stand up again and resume my post. A young man (college age?) came up to me towards the end of the evening. He said that God wanted me to know that even though I was a small person I was a spiritual warrior. What I had done that evening, by guarding the doors, had made a difference.
His words blessed me but, not so much because I needed to hear them. No, the blessing came from the look on his face as he delivered the message to me. His expression was that of confusion and wonder.
Out of obedience to the Father's will,
he returned to a room he had already left and
spoke words he never intended to say
to a woman he had never seen before.
Out of obedience to the Father's will...
Abba,
May Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Deep Water
"'Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.'
Simon answered, 'Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.'" --Luke 5:4-5
Just like the disciples in Luke 5:1-11, Jesus often asks us to go deeper after we have already put in a full day's efforts. He waits until we've exhausted our own plans, using our own methods, and then invites us to expend even more of ourselves...only His way.
His way.
The way of deep water requires us to suspend our own ideas of what does and doesn't make sense; of what works and doesn't work. He asks us to trust Him, to obey Him, to follow Him even as our brain tells us it is wasted energy, time, effort and hope.
The blessing.
Sometimes, our deep water obedience produces visible, supernatural results. For the disciples, it meant nets, tearing from the weight of the fish, in numbers so huge they almost sunk two boats (v. 6-7). It is hard to ignore Jesus when He moves in such a powerful way!
The awakening.
It is impossible to be in Jesus' presence, surrounded by the supernatural results of a miracle, without also coming face-to-face with our own sinfulness. Deep water moments render us vulnerable. Our eyes and our hearts are open to the purity of God and to the depravity of our own souls. We are shaken to our very core.
The choice.
Deep water encounters change the balance of our lives and require us to make a choice.
Do we focus on the fish and try to recreate the blessing for the sake of the experience?
Or, like Peter, James, and John, do we leave it all behind and follow the Blesser?
I want to follow Jesus into deep water...
but truthfully, I liked the old deep water where he first invited me to cast my nets. This new deep water is unfamiliar. My nets aren't coming back full. Most days, they appear to be empty.
I want to follow Jesus as he heads off down the sandy shore...
but I have been stumbling over my own feet as I have glanced back, longingly, at the blessings I left behind.
So what do I do? Stay with the fish or follow the Master?
Abba,
I need You. Every time I think this grieving process is coming to completion, You show me where I am still struggling. Forgive me for my wobbly faith. Thank You for helping me through this and for renewing my hope in the future. I long for the days when the nets are, once again, overflowing with Your bounty. Until then, Lord, teach me how to be content with an empty net and You at my side. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Simon answered, 'Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.'" --Luke 5:4-5
Just like the disciples in Luke 5:1-11, Jesus often asks us to go deeper after we have already put in a full day's efforts. He waits until we've exhausted our own plans, using our own methods, and then invites us to expend even more of ourselves...only His way.
His way.
The way of deep water requires us to suspend our own ideas of what does and doesn't make sense; of what works and doesn't work. He asks us to trust Him, to obey Him, to follow Him even as our brain tells us it is wasted energy, time, effort and hope.
The blessing.
Sometimes, our deep water obedience produces visible, supernatural results. For the disciples, it meant nets, tearing from the weight of the fish, in numbers so huge they almost sunk two boats (v. 6-7). It is hard to ignore Jesus when He moves in such a powerful way!
The awakening.
It is impossible to be in Jesus' presence, surrounded by the supernatural results of a miracle, without also coming face-to-face with our own sinfulness. Deep water moments render us vulnerable. Our eyes and our hearts are open to the purity of God and to the depravity of our own souls. We are shaken to our very core.
The choice.
Deep water encounters change the balance of our lives and require us to make a choice.
Do we focus on the fish and try to recreate the blessing for the sake of the experience?
Or, like Peter, James, and John, do we leave it all behind and follow the Blesser?
I want to follow Jesus into deep water...
but truthfully, I liked the old deep water where he first invited me to cast my nets. This new deep water is unfamiliar. My nets aren't coming back full. Most days, they appear to be empty.
I want to follow Jesus as he heads off down the sandy shore...
but I have been stumbling over my own feet as I have glanced back, longingly, at the blessings I left behind.
So what do I do? Stay with the fish or follow the Master?
Abba,
I need You. Every time I think this grieving process is coming to completion, You show me where I am still struggling. Forgive me for my wobbly faith. Thank You for helping me through this and for renewing my hope in the future. I long for the days when the nets are, once again, overflowing with Your bounty. Until then, Lord, teach me how to be content with an empty net and You at my side. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Do As I Say...
"You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." --Psalm 56:8 (NLT)
My One Year Bible has been taking me through the ups and downs of King David's life. He is a study in contrasts. He was a man after God's own heart; a brave warrior, a gifted songwriter. But when it came to parenting, he failed miserably.2 Samuel 11 & 12
When David made the decision to sleep with Bathsheba, I'm sure he never stopped to think about the consequences of his actions...a pregnant mistress, an uncooperative but honorable man, the murder of a good soldier, the death of his infant son, and an angry God.
What is disturbing to me is how David's actions with Bathsheba set the stage for the drama that takes place amongst David's other children. Step-brothers, Amnon and Absolom, are young men who lead a life of privilege. They may have overheard their father, the king, talk about the way people were to be treated. It appears that he forgot to have a father-son talk that included the words, "Do as I say and not as I do."
2 Samuel 13
So when David's son, Amnon, decides he is in love with Absolom's sister, Tamar (Amnon's half-sister), he doesn't ignore his feelings. He acts on them. He is the king's son, after all.
Amnon has the audacity to involve the king.
"Please let my sister come and cook my favorite dish..." (v. 6)
David agrees and sends Tamar to Amnon's home. Long story-short, Tamar is raped and thrown out on the doorstep as a ruined woman.
Scripture says that King David was angry. I don't know if he said anything. I don't know if he did anything. All I know is that David was angry. But angry with whom?
Surely he was angry at Amnon.
Was he angry with Tamar?
Or was he angry with himself?
He'd been duped. He was played the fool by his own kid. Ouch!
Two years pass. For two years, Absolom harbors a hatred for Amnon that goes unspoken. For two years he thinks about avenging his sister's reputation and his family's honor. For two years, he hates and he plots and he waits for the right opportunity.
He needs help with his plan so who does he turn to? His dad, of course.
"Well, then, if you can't come, how about sending my brother, Amnon with us?" (v. 26)
David agrees and sends Amnon to the feast. Absolom orders his men to murder Amnon and then flees to safety in a different city.
Once again, David is played the fool by one of his children. Once again, David unknowingly sends one child into harm's way which just so happens to be his own flesh and blood. For days afterward, King David weeps bitterly and mourns for his dead son and for the one who has run away. Heavy sigh.
David wept for his sons.
But what about Tamar, his daughter?
Who wept for her?
Abba,
I am convinced that You weep over the selfish choices that we, Your children, make on this earth. Forgive me for the grief I have caused You over the years. Forgive us for our sinful ways. And Lord? Tell Tamar I am sorry. In Jesus' holy name, Amen.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Driving Companion
"The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."-- Deuteronomy 31:8
Last weekend, I made a road trip to San Antonio. On the five hour drive back to Dallas, I made the decision to leave the radio off and spend some time with God. I worked my way through a litany of praise, confessions, requests, and concerns. Once I was finished talking there was this awkward silence. What had seemed like a good idea now felt forced and uncomfortable.
I resorted to small talk.
So, this is some weather we're having.
I was only half kidding. Up ahead was a line of dark, ominous storm clouds. The outside temperature began to plunge on the digital readout. What had been the high 80's dropped to the low 70's. The headlights of oncoming traffic reminded me to turn on my own lights. I eased up on the gas pedal as my windshield wipers competed with the furious raindrops.
And, just like that, the need for small talk was gone. In its place was a companionable silence that was as comfortable as it was reassuring. It was enough to just enjoy His presence. I found myself remembering, with a deep gratitude, a few of the more memorable times God has been my traveling companion...
- Returning home from college in an ice storm, spinning out on the highway, while miraculously avoiding all other traffic.
- Heading to the airport, with my best friend, with only a map, a backpack and a train pass for a 28 day journey through Europe. (in the days before cell phones & GPS systems)
- Leaving my apartment as a single woman and entering my new home as a bride.
-The heartbreaking trip to the E.R. where they confirmed the miscarriage of my first child.
- Eighteen months later, driving to the hospital as a couple and leaving with a healthy baby boy.
- The subsequent trips that added baby #2 and baby #3 to our expanding family.
- The ride to the airport that was our goodbye to St. Louis and hello to San Antonio.
- That first day's drive to preschools, kindergartens, middle schools and high schools for my kids.
- The all night drive to Oklahoma to be with my husband's grieving family after the sudden death of my father-in-law.
- The sad drive from San Antonio to Dallas that made our present move a reality.
"He will never leave you nor forsake you."
It's true. He has been my driving companion through it all. And, at no point in my life has He ever left me or forsaken me.
A long time ago, a young family (from my husband's hometown) stayed at our home while their newborn son was gravely ill in a nearby children's hospital. When their son died, a few short days after his birth, the father chose to drive his son's tiny body back home. He could do this because he was the town's mortician. Don't you know that Jesus was in the car with them during that very sad drive back to the small town that waited with grieving hearts for the return of one of its own.
He will never leave us nor forsake us...no matter what.
Abba,
Thank You that You are a God who keeps His Word. And, thanks for all of the road trips that You have made with me over the years. I love You. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Last weekend, I made a road trip to San Antonio. On the five hour drive back to Dallas, I made the decision to leave the radio off and spend some time with God. I worked my way through a litany of praise, confessions, requests, and concerns. Once I was finished talking there was this awkward silence. What had seemed like a good idea now felt forced and uncomfortable.
I resorted to small talk.
So, this is some weather we're having.
I was only half kidding. Up ahead was a line of dark, ominous storm clouds. The outside temperature began to plunge on the digital readout. What had been the high 80's dropped to the low 70's. The headlights of oncoming traffic reminded me to turn on my own lights. I eased up on the gas pedal as my windshield wipers competed with the furious raindrops.
And, just like that, the need for small talk was gone. In its place was a companionable silence that was as comfortable as it was reassuring. It was enough to just enjoy His presence. I found myself remembering, with a deep gratitude, a few of the more memorable times God has been my traveling companion...
- Returning home from college in an ice storm, spinning out on the highway, while miraculously avoiding all other traffic.
- Heading to the airport, with my best friend, with only a map, a backpack and a train pass for a 28 day journey through Europe. (in the days before cell phones & GPS systems)
- Leaving my apartment as a single woman and entering my new home as a bride.
-The heartbreaking trip to the E.R. where they confirmed the miscarriage of my first child.
- Eighteen months later, driving to the hospital as a couple and leaving with a healthy baby boy.
- The subsequent trips that added baby #2 and baby #3 to our expanding family.
- The ride to the airport that was our goodbye to St. Louis and hello to San Antonio.
- That first day's drive to preschools, kindergartens, middle schools and high schools for my kids.
- The all night drive to Oklahoma to be with my husband's grieving family after the sudden death of my father-in-law.
- The sad drive from San Antonio to Dallas that made our present move a reality.
"He will never leave you nor forsake you."
It's true. He has been my driving companion through it all. And, at no point in my life has He ever left me or forsaken me.
A long time ago, a young family (from my husband's hometown) stayed at our home while their newborn son was gravely ill in a nearby children's hospital. When their son died, a few short days after his birth, the father chose to drive his son's tiny body back home. He could do this because he was the town's mortician. Don't you know that Jesus was in the car with them during that very sad drive back to the small town that waited with grieving hearts for the return of one of its own.
He will never leave us nor forsake us...no matter what.
Abba,
Thank You that You are a God who keeps His Word. And, thanks for all of the road trips that You have made with me over the years. I love You. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Deviating From God's Plan
“How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God!” --Hebrews 9:14 (NIV)
For the last several days, I have been reading about King Saul and his ups and downs as ruler of Israel. (See 1 Samuel 9 – 16) In chapter 15, Saul is commanded, by God, to completely destroy the entire Amalekite nation; including men, women, children, and livestock.
Saul sets out with an army of 210,000 men. They slaughter the Amalekites but end up sparing the life of Agag, the Amalekite king, and keeping the best of the livestock. In other words, Saul decided to improve on God’s orders.
The different responses to Saul’s disobedience are marked. God regrets having ever made Saul king (v. 10). Samuel, the prophet, mourns Saul’s actions (v. 11). And, Saul, when he is called on the carpet, doesn’t think he did anything wrong (vs. 13, 20)!!
The consequences are serious. Even after Saul confesses his sin (sort of) there is no turning back. God yanks the kingdom of Israel from Saul and gives it to someone else. The whole story disturbs me to no end.
Why, since God knew Saul was going to screw up, did He make Saul king?
Why didn’t Saul show the remorse he should have once his sin was revealed?
Why did Saul feel the need to deviate from God’s plan?
Deviating from God’s plan...
The reason this story irritates me so much is because I have been in Saul’s shoes. I, too, have been given orders to follow. And, just like Saul, I have been known to modify them; sometimes because they didn’t make sense to me, sometimes because to obey would cause me great discomfort, and other times, because I was concerned about what people might think. I can recall one such instance where all three reasons came into play.
I was sitting in the Sanctuary waiting to meet someone for a preset prayer time. While I waited, I asked the Lord if there was any Scripture I was to claim on this individual's behalf. God directed me to something in Psalms. I read the verses and they all made sense to me, except for one small phrase that came across very strongly and stuck out in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable.
Minutes later, I joined a few others and we met and prayed for the individual in question. When it was my turn to pray, I began to dutifully read the verses from the Psalm aloud. But when I got to the words that made me skittish, I left them out. Our short time of prayer came to a close and each of us left to do other things.
I was certain that no one in the room had any idea that I had left out part of a verse. But I knew. More importantly, God knew.
The Holy Spirit convicted me, almost immediately. I responded with defensiveness. Nobody knows I left anything out. If I had read all of the words surely somebody would have been tripped up by them…they were harsh and strong. My job as a prayer partner is to help the individual feel God’s peace and strength, right? Speaking words that didn’t make sense would only stir their spirit up, right? Who am I, after all, to deliver strong words without any warning? The more I tried to justify my actions, the more I was convicted of my sin. I had edited God’s Word.
Things didn’t get better until I finally quit defending my right to deviate from God’s plan and owned up to my wrong doing. The next day, I found myself calling the individual who I had prayed for and asked if I could have a few minutes of their time.
Once there, I confessed to leaving the words out. I asked for forgiveness. I asked if I could pray, again, only this time speaking all of the words that I had been given to say. The individual kindly received me but I’m sure they were puzzled by the entire thing. At that point, it didn’t matter. My own misery at being out of right relationship with God outweighed any embarrassment I had been concerned about the day before. It was an eye opening experience for me.
Looking at my own episodes of deviating from God’s plan and comparing them to Saul’s adventures fills me with gratitude. Not because I think Saul screwed up in a bigger way than I have or because I am living my life better than him. In God’s eyes, sin is sin. We are equally guilty of disobeying God.
My gratitude comes from knowing Jesus. Saul was born in a time before Jesus Christ walked the earth. Even as the LORD’s anointed, Saul was condemned to sin. He died out of relationship with God. And that is where we are different. What sets me apart?
The conviction of the Holy Spirit. The strong yet subtle voice that whispers to me whenever I stray from the plan.
The blood of Jesus. My sins (all of them) have been paid for by the death and resurrection of my Savior. I am redeemed.
The forgiveness of the Father. Because He sees me through the blood of His precious Son, I am clean in His eyes.
Father,
Thank You for preserving Your Word through the ages. Thank You for the details of the lives of men and women, who walked with You, disobeyed You, loved You, and rebelled from Your ways. Forgive me for those times when I am quick to dismiss the underlying lessons within the pages of Your Word. Give me eyes to see and ears to hear how it applies to me. Thank you, Jesus for the gift of life. Thank you for dying on the cross and carrying my sins to the grave. Thank you for sitting at God’s right hand, interceding, even now, on my behalf. Show me how to live my life in a way that brings You glory. Without You, Lord, I am nothing but a shell of who You have called me to be. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
For the last several days, I have been reading about King Saul and his ups and downs as ruler of Israel. (See 1 Samuel 9 – 16) In chapter 15, Saul is commanded, by God, to completely destroy the entire Amalekite nation; including men, women, children, and livestock.
Saul sets out with an army of 210,000 men. They slaughter the Amalekites but end up sparing the life of Agag, the Amalekite king, and keeping the best of the livestock. In other words, Saul decided to improve on God’s orders.
The different responses to Saul’s disobedience are marked. God regrets having ever made Saul king (v. 10). Samuel, the prophet, mourns Saul’s actions (v. 11). And, Saul, when he is called on the carpet, doesn’t think he did anything wrong (vs. 13, 20)!!
The consequences are serious. Even after Saul confesses his sin (sort of) there is no turning back. God yanks the kingdom of Israel from Saul and gives it to someone else. The whole story disturbs me to no end.
Why, since God knew Saul was going to screw up, did He make Saul king?
Why didn’t Saul show the remorse he should have once his sin was revealed?
Why did Saul feel the need to deviate from God’s plan?
Deviating from God’s plan...
The reason this story irritates me so much is because I have been in Saul’s shoes. I, too, have been given orders to follow. And, just like Saul, I have been known to modify them; sometimes because they didn’t make sense to me, sometimes because to obey would cause me great discomfort, and other times, because I was concerned about what people might think. I can recall one such instance where all three reasons came into play.
I was sitting in the Sanctuary waiting to meet someone for a preset prayer time. While I waited, I asked the Lord if there was any Scripture I was to claim on this individual's behalf. God directed me to something in Psalms. I read the verses and they all made sense to me, except for one small phrase that came across very strongly and stuck out in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable.
Minutes later, I joined a few others and we met and prayed for the individual in question. When it was my turn to pray, I began to dutifully read the verses from the Psalm aloud. But when I got to the words that made me skittish, I left them out. Our short time of prayer came to a close and each of us left to do other things.
I was certain that no one in the room had any idea that I had left out part of a verse. But I knew. More importantly, God knew.
The Holy Spirit convicted me, almost immediately. I responded with defensiveness. Nobody knows I left anything out. If I had read all of the words surely somebody would have been tripped up by them…they were harsh and strong. My job as a prayer partner is to help the individual feel God’s peace and strength, right? Speaking words that didn’t make sense would only stir their spirit up, right? Who am I, after all, to deliver strong words without any warning? The more I tried to justify my actions, the more I was convicted of my sin. I had edited God’s Word.
Things didn’t get better until I finally quit defending my right to deviate from God’s plan and owned up to my wrong doing. The next day, I found myself calling the individual who I had prayed for and asked if I could have a few minutes of their time.
Once there, I confessed to leaving the words out. I asked for forgiveness. I asked if I could pray, again, only this time speaking all of the words that I had been given to say. The individual kindly received me but I’m sure they were puzzled by the entire thing. At that point, it didn’t matter. My own misery at being out of right relationship with God outweighed any embarrassment I had been concerned about the day before. It was an eye opening experience for me.
Looking at my own episodes of deviating from God’s plan and comparing them to Saul’s adventures fills me with gratitude. Not because I think Saul screwed up in a bigger way than I have or because I am living my life better than him. In God’s eyes, sin is sin. We are equally guilty of disobeying God.
My gratitude comes from knowing Jesus. Saul was born in a time before Jesus Christ walked the earth. Even as the LORD’s anointed, Saul was condemned to sin. He died out of relationship with God. And that is where we are different. What sets me apart?
The conviction of the Holy Spirit. The strong yet subtle voice that whispers to me whenever I stray from the plan.
The blood of Jesus. My sins (all of them) have been paid for by the death and resurrection of my Savior. I am redeemed.
The forgiveness of the Father. Because He sees me through the blood of His precious Son, I am clean in His eyes.
Father,
Thank You for preserving Your Word through the ages. Thank You for the details of the lives of men and women, who walked with You, disobeyed You, loved You, and rebelled from Your ways. Forgive me for those times when I am quick to dismiss the underlying lessons within the pages of Your Word. Give me eyes to see and ears to hear how it applies to me. Thank you, Jesus for the gift of life. Thank you for dying on the cross and carrying my sins to the grave. Thank you for sitting at God’s right hand, interceding, even now, on my behalf. Show me how to live my life in a way that brings You glory. Without You, Lord, I am nothing but a shell of who You have called me to be. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Monday, May 4, 2009
New Life
"How many are your works, O LORD!
In wisdom you made them all;
the earth is full of your creatures...
These all look to you
to give them their food at the proper time.
When you give it to them,
they gather it up;
when you open your hand,
they are satisfied with good things." --Psalm 104:24, 27-28
One of the highlights of driving my kids to and from school each day is checking on "the horses." On a two lane road, nestled between a couple of modest homes, is a fenced-in field where two mares and a stallion peacefully graze. The fence line comes within fifteen feet of the street. My daughter is a horse nut so, whenever traffic allows, we slow down (speed limit is only 30 mph to begin with) to get a closer look.
About a month or so ago, we made the delightful discovery that a foal had joined the threesome. A week later, another foal appeared. There is something so enchanting about new life in the form of these wobbly legged creatures.
In the beginning, the mares kept the foals at the far end of the field. The foals rarely stood up. They spent the majority of their time lying down on their sides, soaking up the sun. The only signs of life came from their tails, swishing at the occasional fly.
As the foals have grown in size and strength, they are spending more time on their legs. The mares have guided them closer to the fence line to acclimate them to the cars and people that pass by.
Yesterday, I told my friend that I was relating to the foals. I've been sticking close to the Father. I need a lot of breaks in order to make it through a day. I'm growing in strength but life is all about the basics, right now.
She wisely pointed out that even as God does this for us, He calls us to do the same for others. Then she proceeded to cite examples where this is true in my own life. I've been thinking about her words ever since...
As someone experiencing new life:
Spend all of your time near the Parent. Look around and take in your surroundings. Eat when you're hungry. Stand when you can. Lay down when you're tired. Soak up the sun. Swat flies when necessary.
As a Believer in Christ travelling with others:
Stand near while the one experiencing new life rests. Reassure them as they try to gain their balance. Guide them to nourishment. Position yourself between them and the road/strangers. Step back at the proper time. (Prayer, fellowship, holy encouragement)
I am amazed that I serve a God who allows me to receive even as He calls me to give.
Abba,
You are the perfect parent! Thank You for watching over me as I gain strength and grow into this new life. Forgive my impatience regarding this process. Help me to trust Your plan. And, Father, thank You for those beautiful people (family, friends and strangers) that You have allowed me to travel with on this journey of faith. Remind me to stand near when necessary and step back - all in your perfect timing. I love You. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Lessons in Solitude
"Be merciful to me, O LORD,
for I am calling on you constantly." Psalm 86:3
A month has passed since I last wrote. At the time I journaled Identity Crisis, I did not realize I was about to enter a time of silence. As it turns out, my season of no words occurred during Lent. Coincidence? I think not.
Normally, I use words as a means of making sense of my world. I push thoughts and ideas and Scripture around and around until something rises to the surface in a point of clarity. Capturing these moments on paper always brings me closer to the Father. Since our move, I have used writing as an attempt to stay anchored to my sanity; looking for purpose in the chaos of starting over...
Interestingly, after writing about my identity crisis, last month, I found that I had nothing else to say. The Holy Spirit, who has faithfully provided the inspiration for my past reflections, was notably silent. I accepted this reality. More importantly, I knew it was pointless to try to write or to ask for something to write about.
A few things happened as I entered a month long solitude:
I quit struggling against my circumstances.
Have you ever seen a small toddler beside himself with emotion? He screams and flails, usually striking out against the loving arms of the parent who holds him. Both parent and child are bruised in the struggle. Eventually, though, the child wears himself out. Quite often, he falls asleep after all of his exertions. That unhappy child was me.
I practiced "being."
Once I settled down on the outside, I also quieted down on the inside. I'm not really sure how this took place, only that it did. I had permission to just "be" in the moment and let God be in charge of the rest. More than that, I knew that "being" was all I was capable of.
You would think that taking a month off from thinking and wondering and trying to figure things out would result in a rested, strengthened woman ready to take on the world. In fact, just the opposite occurred.
"In solitude, I get rid of my scaffolding." Henri Nouwen
Solitude brought me face-to-face with my fears and frustrations; my loneliness and my grief. I also realized that I had been trying to force my way through the grieving process, in order to avoid anymore pain. After realizing this, I spent the remainder of the month, like that small child, leaning back into the strong, safe arms of the Father while I hiccup sobbed myself to sleep.
Yesterday, I read In Luke 18:15 (NLT) where the parents brought their children to Jesus to be touched and blessed by him. Those words struck a chord. It occurs to me that that is what God has been doing for me this past month...touching and blessing; rocking and singing lullabies; holding me while I have been in this exhausted, worn-out state.
My prayers have been just as childlike:
"Help!"
"I need you."
"Please."
"Thank you."
Now that I am emerging from the Father's arms, I feel rather wobbly on my feet. Like a small child, I cry easily. I can only handle one task at a time. I find myself asking for help. A lot. It is a humbling place to be.
Jesus loves me
This I know
For the Bible
Tells me so
Little ones
To Him belong
They are weak
But He is strong...
Abba, Jesus, and Holy Spirit,
I love You. I need You. Help me, please. Thank You, Amen.
for I am calling on you constantly." Psalm 86:3
A month has passed since I last wrote. At the time I journaled Identity Crisis, I did not realize I was about to enter a time of silence. As it turns out, my season of no words occurred during Lent. Coincidence? I think not.
Normally, I use words as a means of making sense of my world. I push thoughts and ideas and Scripture around and around until something rises to the surface in a point of clarity. Capturing these moments on paper always brings me closer to the Father. Since our move, I have used writing as an attempt to stay anchored to my sanity; looking for purpose in the chaos of starting over...
Interestingly, after writing about my identity crisis, last month, I found that I had nothing else to say. The Holy Spirit, who has faithfully provided the inspiration for my past reflections, was notably silent. I accepted this reality. More importantly, I knew it was pointless to try to write or to ask for something to write about.
A few things happened as I entered a month long solitude:
I quit struggling against my circumstances.
Have you ever seen a small toddler beside himself with emotion? He screams and flails, usually striking out against the loving arms of the parent who holds him. Both parent and child are bruised in the struggle. Eventually, though, the child wears himself out. Quite often, he falls asleep after all of his exertions. That unhappy child was me.
I practiced "being."
Once I settled down on the outside, I also quieted down on the inside. I'm not really sure how this took place, only that it did. I had permission to just "be" in the moment and let God be in charge of the rest. More than that, I knew that "being" was all I was capable of.
You would think that taking a month off from thinking and wondering and trying to figure things out would result in a rested, strengthened woman ready to take on the world. In fact, just the opposite occurred.
"In solitude, I get rid of my scaffolding." Henri Nouwen
Solitude brought me face-to-face with my fears and frustrations; my loneliness and my grief. I also realized that I had been trying to force my way through the grieving process, in order to avoid anymore pain. After realizing this, I spent the remainder of the month, like that small child, leaning back into the strong, safe arms of the Father while I hiccup sobbed myself to sleep.
Yesterday, I read In Luke 18:15 (NLT) where the parents brought their children to Jesus to be touched and blessed by him. Those words struck a chord. It occurs to me that that is what God has been doing for me this past month...touching and blessing; rocking and singing lullabies; holding me while I have been in this exhausted, worn-out state.
My prayers have been just as childlike:
"Help!"
"I need you."
"Please."
"Thank you."
Now that I am emerging from the Father's arms, I feel rather wobbly on my feet. Like a small child, I cry easily. I can only handle one task at a time. I find myself asking for help. A lot. It is a humbling place to be.
Jesus loves me
This I know
For the Bible
Tells me so
Little ones
To Him belong
They are weak
But He is strong...
Abba, Jesus, and Holy Spirit,
I love You. I need You. Help me, please. Thank You, Amen.
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