rescued

World, see the Christ. He is long awaited and now celebrated. See his humility. All nations be moved in your hearts, be torn, rend them Lord. How great is the Love of your son. On the sweet cheeks of a baby, red with birth, the very blood pumps that would rescue my soul. That rescues yours, O Peoples. See the wrapped hands that grasp virgin mother, these same hands that would touch the eyes of the blind and Give Sight! World, see!


Two words circle my thoughts and peer at me through sermons, scripture, and books.
Faith
Suffering
Human logic would say that God must be planning some painful time of suffering requiring much faith. I don’t feel this truth.
But I will share with you my musings on the two words.

Faith

this gift. The more I understand it, I don’t understand it. It seems impossible for humans to conjure up faith and then have enough of it to last and not run out. As I read scripture-I see that God strengthens us in faith (Rom 4:20) that it is a gift not of ourselves (Eph 2:8).

Faith is imperative in the abundant life. I have a friend who is in a theological battle. He wonders at God’s character. A God who created man with the weakness to sin and in foreknowledge knew man would fall. He planned redemption, but not before knowing His justifying wrath. Millions damned to Hell with a chosen few to be saved by the blood of His son.

This thought sucks. There is not enough known about the Lord to satisfy an answer. This battle causes me to look up at God and know that his ways are not my ways (Isa 55:8). With faith, I move on. But my friend cannot.

What is faith?

Suffering

a blessing. I view suffering through the lens of economics. If I suffer for a season, God will reward me and reveal wisdom as to why I suffered. We say things like this all the time when our friends are going through hard times. “God has a reason…you’re learning from this…it will pass…” It’s like paying God five dollars, he owes us something for it. This begs me to look at the opposite. Perhaps God never reveals a reason, perhaps you never learn anything from it, or you never leave that suffering, will you still love God? Will I?

so we come back to faith.

I found this writing in a random file on my computer that I had written last year at 2:32 am Christmas morning as my mother snored next to me. Apparently I couldn't sleep and this came out of it. What I find so delightfully entertaining is that after a year God has brought such suffering and faith in my life. I have never cleaved so close to Him before after such heart sucking pain. I can say, through the dull pulses of pain, He is a faithful God. A sturdy place to land, when all you do is hover. He is my love, My Lord.

to wonder

”He was poor, that he might make us rich.


He was born of a virgin that we might be born of God.

He took our flesh, that he might give us His Spirit.

He lay in the manger, that we may lie in paradise.

He came down from heaven, that he might bring us to heaven….



That the ancient of Days should be born.

that he who thunders in the heavens should cry in the cradle….

that he who rules the stars should suck the breast;

that a virgin should conceive;

that Christ should be made of a woman, and of that woman which himself made,

that the branch should bear the vine,

that the mother should be younger than the child she bare,

and the child in the womb bigger than the mother;

that the human nature should not be God, yet one with God



Christ taking flesh is a mystery we shall never fully understand till we come to heaven



If our hearts be not rocks, this love of Christ should affect us .



Behold love that passeth knowledge!”



~Thomas Watson

Themes clasped

“Would you rather be divinely beautiful, dazzlingly clever, or angelically good?” –Anne Shirley


 Watching Anne of Green Gables: a staple event for any woman that must be repeated throughout her life. I recommend repeating frequently to keep your emotional reservoir full and see representations of every possible emotion a girl heart can feel. There is an Anne in all us women, just waiting to declare, “I’m lost in the depth of despair!”



This week I could have screamed that statement, followed by wailing it, and then melting onto the floor in gasps of sobbing. This is only minutely dramatic.


Can you identify with the feeling that God has connected so many areas of your life, each theme clasping the heal of the one before, making long the way God chooses to speak to you? It almost terrifies me.

 First theme: a broken heart. For the blogging world I will say that God is the author of springtime and to awaken this before time is due is a painful reality. To quote my favorite song: “I can’t force the sun to rise or hasten summers start, neither should I rush my way into your heart.” (Love is Waiting by Brooke Fraser)






Second theme: faithfulness. I heard Dave Kraft speak back in February about choosing a fruit of the Spirit as one of your themes. Study it, see it in God’s character, and pray for it. In August, I choose faithfulness. God has shown me in a season of really seeing my sin-that He has been faithful to be my help: my salvation.






Third theme: treasure. A friend had a dream about me. There I was digging into the dirt on the coast of an island. Wiping the sweat from my forehead with my forearm, I was determined. People thought I was foolish. But I kept digging. With the promise that I would eventually find the treasure I sought. So what is my treasure?

 Proverbs 2:3-5


"indeed, if you call out for insight
and cry aloud for understanding,
and if you look for it as for silver
and search for it as for hidden treasure,
then you will understand the fear of the LORD
and find the knowledge of God. (the Word is my treasure)


Matthew 13:44


[ The Parables of the Hidden Treasure and the Pearl ] “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.






Fourth theme: waiting. God has winterized my desires, putting my hope into a season of waiting. I thought for sure that once you are aware of the season the Lord has brought you into that it is soon to end. It’s time to move to the next lesson, right? Not so, this winter season is long and it has just begun. I’m waiting, deeply seeding prayer into God.




Fifth theme: Hope in God. The beauty of a woman is her hope in God. Hope is the unwavering confident expectation that what God has promised will be coming in the future. It is not the lip-biting gaze of wishing. Hope is faith in the future.


Psalm 42:5
“Why are you down cast, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.”




Psalm 119:11
Sustain me, my God, according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hopes be dashed.

Jeremiah 14:22
Do any of the worthless idols of the nations bring rain? Do the skies themselves send down showers? No, it is you, LORD our God. Therefore our hope is in you, for you are the one who does all this.


Romans 15:13
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.


1 Timothy 5:5
The widow who is really in need and left all alone puts her hope in God and continues night and day to pray and to ask God for help.






Sixth theme: humility. That was the theme of this week. Not only did it begin with a Sunday sermon on "Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the land," it continued throughout the week. Whence came my episode of "depths of despair" on the kitchen floor. I was told of my weaknesses in the classroom and then asked repeatedly for observations, causing me to be anxious that I’d lose my job. Partially ridiculous: but a used time to draw me close to the Lord and desperate for his help.






As I was thinking on humility-it made sense that if one was to hope in God, you’d need to be humbled outside of your ability to hope, causing you to draw in the reservoir of hope to wait on the Lord, to find Him as my treasure and to remain faithful despite my broken heart.

"A mother can always be pregnant-full of grace." -Ann Voskamp

Waiting.

peek

Losing it

Somedays I wish I was far beyond the clouds.
like today. I lost my patience today. And I wish hadn't.

I teach 19 lovely kindergartners. Each with their special set of gifts, quirks and toothless smiles.

But today, I didn't appreciate any of that. Let me set the stage and attempt to teach myself the gospel again. The first half of this week my kindergartners have amazed me: working independently, no accidents, fewer tears, we even got rid of morning recess because they could stay on task.

Today...ah!

They went bananas, there were tears around every corner, really annoying questions, spontaneous shouts for NO REASON, lots of helplessness about zipping up their coats, they farted every half hour, and Miss Taylor lost it.

A snapshot: I was teaching small group reading, which really wasn't going that well because everyone had something they just must share. But a child that was supposed to be working independently by finding letters in a magazine and cutting them out, came up to me. She said, "Miss Taylor, I can't find any "A"s I've looked through the whole magazine, there are none!"
....i combusted..
First, I thought in my head, "What are you dumb?" Then I felt bad for thinking that, so I tried to be holy and said, "Let's pray because Miss Taylor needs patience." BUT THEN...they fiddled around with papers, talking and didn't listen to the prayer. THEY DIDN'T LISTEN TO MISS TAYLOR PRAY!
Heavens to Betsy! (If you didn't pick up on my sarcasm, please do so now-it's perfectly ridiculous to expect that just because I'm praying all should be calm and easy).

I said something short...probably along the lines of: you should be able to find the "A"s. There are PLENTY OF A's. Go to you desk and find them.
Then I said something sarcastic. "You know, I think someone probably stole all the "A's". It's really too bad."

Then I just needed to stop saying.

During my prep, I went to go get coffee and sat outside of room (What we call Narnia). I was reading The Gingerbread Baby, because that's relaxing. I thought. Lord, I really don't have it today-yep, zero patience. The worst part is, I'm not representing you well today. These short comments. Snipping words. Unfriendly glances. What kind of Jesus is that? 

The afternoon came and went; I wish I could say that patience came after that moment with the Lord, but it really didn't.

But now I'm trying to see the grace in all this and here is what I've found:

1. I need to apologize and hope that my students will forgive me.

2. I'm so thankful that the Lord doesn't get annoyed with me. Seriously, I can pray something over and over and over again, think about it with him constantly and he listens EVERY time. (but if a kid did that to me, I'd get rather irritated and wish they'd just drop it by now).

3. In the midst of messy classroom moments, Jesus peers his head in. One of my boys today was having trouble with his coat zipper. It's broken and he can't zip up his coat and neither could I, for that matter. I tried and tried and was about to give up and pin it shut when we decided to pray. Lord, please help make this zipper work. Amen. BAM! It zipped like a pro. Then 3 hours later, trying to zip it up again, except this time the zipper was really broken and falling away from the lining, we were at it again. I prayed in my head this time, believing "hey! God did it before." BAM! It worked again and I said to the boy, "I just prayed it would work and it did! God answered my prayer!" This boy got the largest grin I've ever seen and we marveled together at how good God was to us.

4. I'm a process and full of sticky sin but I'm forgiven at the cross. And how sweet this resurrection is! I have Christ's righteousness placed upon my new cloak, I'm his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works. I have the Spirit of the Living God working in me. He will not leave me or abandon me. He will raise my arms again tomorrow. Where, I will live in the dawn's new mercy!

Portrait of a woman

Here I rest, in my old college town. Each corner presents itself in my memories. Turning a page in a book, looking past.


The route of my runs in the summer or 08’

The Library, my couch

The mall, the games, walks, discoveries

Dancing in the street

Our coffee shop

So familiar and layered with the dust of time, making it seem like a tradition-lost in time until the season returns again.



Back at my laptop, I’m back to the now and the winter of my heart.

Wondering, what is a beautiful woman?

A week ago, reading through 1 Peter 3:1-6, my heart leapt hold of something.



Wives, in the same way submit yourselves to your own husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, 2 when they see the purity and reverence of your lives. 3 Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. 4 Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. 5 For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to adorn themselves. They submitted themselves to their own husbands, 6 like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her lord. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.



I’m not a wife, but I sure am a woman. Peter speaks about the ‘holy women of the past who put their hope in God.’ What a beautiful image of a woman. Her grace, her charm is her heart buried into the Lord as she hopes in Him.

I pictured my life as a tree. The tree stops growing its fruit in the winter. The sugar from the sun no longer reaches through the body of the tree. But the roots grow down deep in the winter. The biggest root of them all, the anchor root, buries in the rich soil.



This anchor root for a woman is her hope in God.



Here is her strength.



From Hope in God comes the ability to persevere in spite of suffering. She is able to trust in the state of unknown. From Hope in God comes a noble woman, a Proverbs 31 woman:



She is clothed with strength and dignity;

she can laugh at the days to come. (Verse 25).



She can laugh at the future: to be carefree, knowing the Lord is directing her steps.



What a beautiful portrait of a woman. Hope in God. Gentle and Quiet Spirit. Persevere in Suffering. Trust and Laugh. Lord, that you’d make me as her.

or possibly

This wouldn't be bad either

I'm considering moving...here

Thought #1: Waiting, will Hope in God

Anytime I am given a few extra days off my brain goes into hyper thinking/processing mode. I've stored up all these experiences and deep thoughts and now I must go through them one by one.

Given two 6 hour long car rides and my brain is all excited and processing. I was thankful for a number of days off from school.

Thankful for the time to rest. To dwell in the House of the Lord. To feel his nearness again.

 Here's what I've heard:

 wait.

I talked with a friend a few weeks ago about marriage and its beautiful reflection of the Lord. It's the covenant. Jesus and the church all in love and stuff. Each part of our lives offers that reflection though. Where in waiting is the Gospel?

What a strange thought, but yes, I see.
The waiting has been seen over and over. Since Adam and Even, through Abraham, past Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, they've waited for the Christ. He came. He promised to come back. We wait again. I feel that pain in waiting, as birth pains. We are living in an unreconciled world. I feel the hope in waiting, that what is promised is true.

And a promise is only beautiful from the waiting.

Fast food is ugly. You order it and it comes and you eat it and feel weird afterwards. But if you haven't eaten in days (or did the 30 hour famine in high school), you wait and sit down for a meal, smell the aroma, even get offered a beverage, and then the meal comes and it's SO good. Yeah waiting is beautiful, and tasty.

Last post I talked about a few prayers, buried in the Lord. My hope deeply set. I wait. Prayers still unanswered but I have the promise. I recently listened to a sermon surrounding the text of 1 Peter 3.
John Piper spoke about Women as if planted trees.  http://www.desiringgod.org/resource-library/sermons/the-beautiful-faith-of-fearless-submission
Since the Lord keeps illuminating this illustration, I'm going to keep following it.

A tree in the summer months grows its fruit, leaves soak in the sun and create sugar. As fall comes, the leaves fall not taking in the water from the roots any longer. They fall to the ground and the tree stores all its energy in its roots. It grows its root deep during this winter season. Every tree has an anchor root, the big mama!

This anchor root for a woman, as Piper described, is: Hope in God.
 And it is beautiful.

 From Hope in God, Women form great strength. They are able to persevere in the face of suffering. They are able to laugh at the days to come without worry. They lead their husbands and children by their beautiful hope in God.

  Back to winter, waiting 
Growing deep, bring energy down 
 Anchor into Him: hope

 What a blessing when the Lord brings purpose in the midst of a season. It's not always to be expected, but a blessing it has been to see this waiting as glorious. This waiting is my Hoping in God.

Hope, buried

I sense you winterizing many things in life, God. Some relationships put to rest, some forever, an ending of a season, the change that seems so cold. All this hope, these prayers, are deeply buried in you, My Lord.
A few months ago, just as the wind turned cold and neighbors began their fall yard work, I buried some bulbs. Tulips-with the delightful store name of “Springtime hope.” How perfect.
The recent changes in my life have left my soul a bit tattered and torn. Quite a few questions for the Lord. And a different kind of loneliness than I’ve experienced before. Simply put, pain.
God lead me to pray.
In a different way, to plant some hope in Him. I dug deep holes, the recommended 8 inches. Lifting out the dark dirt, placing the small bulb in the ground just right. Lord, I give these prayers to you. These people and their needs are yours. Setting the dirt on top, pressing hard.
I wished for immediate response.
For the bulb to see its potential and sprout before my eyes.
I wished these people that I love so dear, that their prayer would be answered.
I know God can do it.
But he chooses to have me wait.
Raising Lazarus wasn’t hard, but Christ waited.
Instead, I watered them and reluctantly walked back inside my house.

What happened next surprised me. I had a very hard time leaving those bulbs alone. I checked on them multiple times a day, like a mother checking to see if her babies breathe escaped as he slept. I was concerned.
A squirrel came a few days later and dug up a bulb, leaving a torn hole.
I wept. I’m not joking. I was so upset that my prayer had been stolen by a rodent! I will not tell you what the prayer was exactly.

God started reminding me of something. Prayer is digging hope in God, and putting it to rest in him. It’s not like a kite, let loose in the air and still bound to you. My prayer is left alone in God, not mine any longer. He chooses how it should grow, if it should be taken by a squirrel, or the care it needs in these winter months.

Now that the snow has fallen, my hope buried down deep under the cold mound, I wait. Trusting the Lord for his goodness, his wisdom, and his faithfulness.

21 Days

21 days
I recently learned that any habit can be learned or refuted in 21 days. Setting its course in your brain, this new habit becomes a natural part of your routine. Or on the other hand, as it is commonly taught in addiction support groups: remaining free from a substance for 21 days is a beginning step to releasing yourself from addiction. In both scenarios, there is a dependence needed on the power of Christ, to work in us and to will us according to his good purpose.

If you could have any new habit, what would it be?
This question sailed my thoughts for a few weeks. First anchoring on: to do yoga each morning, to write prose everyday, to memorize scripture, to pray diligently for others, even to write down the gifts the Lord has given each day.
The deeper pieces of my heart had something else to share: to finally commit my thoughts to God, to pursue Him wildly, to be unscattered in my diligence to read the Word, to forgive them finally, to remain faithful. Faithful.
There is that word again.
Faithful.
What a great and terrifying word. Great in its conquering of me, the Lord took me into the wilderness and spoke tenderly to me. He remained faithful, even when I didn’t. I swooned at his faithfulness, when brokenness returned. I came to be his, His greatness consumed me. And terrified me: for I am unfaithful. And pursuing to be like Christ is the hardest task donning my soul. I pray I remember I cannot die to flesh and walk in the Spirit by my own will, but out of the power of Christ in me.

But, what are the habits I wish to break?
21 days of abstaining from: grumbling and not giving thanks, Pride of Time, Pride of Relationships, staying away from dairy (I had to throw in a strange one right? But diary makes me feel weird inside but it’s really hard to avoid adding a dollop of cream in my coffee some mornings.)

“So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:33).

The commitment time comes.
Ah! But to hear the call, speak of it, and refuse the action is to live foolishly.

My new habit to work diligently on for 21 days: to pray earnestly for my family
My habit to renounce: give up grumbling

Emotionless

Is it possible for emotion to move in reverse? Me, the most emotional dramatic woman in existence, is having a hard time feeling? It seems like a trick, like God taking away my vision for a day. Emotion is how I see the world. My dear friend has described herself emotionally as a box of 6 crayons, 6 emotions to draw on. This year the Lord has increased her box to 12, moving toward 24 crayons. Is God putting my crayons on hiatus? Me: learning the opposite, how to see the world through a more logical lens? Though I don’t feel logical in the least. Whatever God may be up to, I’ve enjoyed not crying over the slightest feeling: being new, lonely, someone’s hurt, even a skinned knee.

Silence

Something disturbs my continence.
The want of more, the desire to not waste this time and yet He has called me into silence.
Of waiting…
Oh to return to this precious and, often missed, season.
…Lord, my soul welcomes the wait. I just ask for the grace of patience to remain…

"The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell." –C.S. Lewis
To be thankful for scabs, for only love can cause such pain. And how deep love goes; it pulls my soul to you Lord: this umbilical of eternity. It has lead me through a rough year, where I’ve screamed at times, “Enough!” It has placed trust in the weary heart when I had no strength of my own. It has even allowed for such joy, my cheeks tingle and laughter tears form.


Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act. Don’t worry about evil people who prosperor fret about their wicked schemes.
Ps 37:7

Let this silence be kept. Let me not rush to leave your presence.
But I give thanks for the pain
Thanks for the trust to initiate pain
For my Prince of Peace

Allergies

The last few months of life have been rather dramatic. Something that I’m prideful to believe I try to stay away from. But an emotional heart like mine does have its flaring. My heart has allergies; you could say, gets congestion and has to stay at home sick. It was crippling in my younger years. I have a distinct memory….

Sitting in the upstairs of our duplex, my back crouched over my knees, the sun shining in through the window-paned door that lead to the porch. I remember the light being beautiful and I was upset. It didn’t match my mood. A friend had just told me I wasn’t allowed to be her friend until tomorrow. I was damaged deeply. Mother soothed, but tears still created rivers down my dry knees.

Tears everywhere, it’s a wonder we didn’t get water damage in the house.
God has been faithful to teach me more differentiation of my emotions over the years. Allowing empathy its place, but not allowing it to take over my week. But it still seems I attract the drama. Is life really a stage? Or just my life? Feeling often I’m doing something wrong.

I get this is lie. But I said it anyway, so what?

suffering softens

I want to run
I want to scream obscenities
I want to laugh
I want to cry
I want to ask Him ‘why?”
I want to sleep
I want to read
I want to leave

Today I read, “The events of the previous night appeared in her mind like a trout surfacing in a stream. But the awareness came before she could stop it.” From The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott

The rest offers some peace, as if lifting your feet after a long day. But when the dawn breaks, the light abrasing your eyelids until you succumb to the opening, and reality surfaces. To quote the above, it comes before you can stop it. And what if you do not choose this reality given you? What if you have some very strong objections to it?

I cannot leave Him though, my Reality-Chooser. I can’t even pass a disdainful thought through the synapses of my brain. For this is the Lord that has been faithfully good throughout my existence. There are too many alters to Him built in my mind to mistrust.

Thank God.

That through ambiguity
Uncertainty
Restlessness

He is trustworthy.

I will be still
I will trust
I will thank
I will still cry
I will yet laugh
And I think I will go now and get a glass of water from the kitchen…

gifts even when it's cold

Sweater pulled, grabbing arms for warmth.
Bangs flurry over rumpled forehead
There in the still,
I thank.

This week of dilemma and a dramatic change in the weather has brought a wave of grumpiness to my continence. When I’m grumpy I’d had better start thanking my good Lord. This task keeps pulling my soul into the now and scales fall from my eyes as I see what good the Lord has brought.

I begin, and the thanks pours-I see the cascade of gifts and breathe in the mist that floats up from them.

An interview
Being shown sin
Being shown grace
Talks with friends about similar ministry
5,000 Easter bags being given to kids
A testimony of life, not choosing abortion
A testimony of provision, no baby but plenty of girls to mentor
Teenagers excited about Hosea



Praying on the phone
Crying on the phone
Laughing on the phone
My city
Goofy dancing
Laying on the floor
Woman becoming missionaries
Worship, Spirit consuming fire
God providing the lamb
God provided the lamb!

The promise-he’s coming as Faithful and True.

Do you hear the crickets?

Charles Swindoll recounts an interesting story. A native American was visiting New York City.Walking with a friend near the center of Manhattan, the Indian suddenly stopped his companion and whispered, “Wait, I hear a cricket.” His friend was disbelieving. A cricket? In downtown New York?
Impossible.
The cacophony of sounds from passing taxis, impatient honking, people shouting, brakes screeching, and subways roaring would make it virtually impossible to hear a cricket, even if one were present. But, the Indian was insistent. He stopped his friend and began to crisscross the street and sidewalks with his head cocked to one side, intently listening.
Then, in a large cement planter where a tree was growing, he finally found the cricket and held it up for his friend’s benefit. Amazed, his friend asked how he could have possibly heard that cricket. Reaching into his pocket, the Indian grasped
some coins, held them waist high, then dropped them on the sidewalk. Everyone within a block turned to look in their direction.
As Swindoll explains, “It all depends on what you’re listening for. We don’t
have enough crickets in our heads. We don’t listen for them. Perhaps you have spent all your life searching for a handful of change and you’ve missed the real sound of life.”

Gifts #21-32

Another one of those nights where the day’s worries lap over into evening dreams. Frustrated still in the morning. But your Word comes through the blinds…”Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.” Ps 143:8. I remember this and call to mind that your mercy starts over this morning. Your loving kindness doesn’t need waking up.
I speak to my soul.
Gifts pour through widow bright
I am redeemed and held to no lists
Letters from Grandma in familiar scroll
Quiet house, still sleeping
Easy remembrance of your great love
Brisk air, hold tight
Sleepovers with girls: pizza eating, boy talking, goofy dancing
Morning yoga that opens my heart wide and muscles feel alive
Painful heart moments where I can only run to my Reliever
Christ pursuing me in loneliness
Flax seed
Lunch with warm faces, laughing over weekend stories

I put my hope in you, my Lord

the now

I feel so broken.
I hate my reality.
I wake up at 3 am and think of the horror of it all.
How I desperately want this body of death reconciled to you.
Come, Jesus come.
I peer out the window.
Though I hate my reality, I so firmly believe:
YOU ARE GOOD.
It doesn’t make for logic and that’s probably why I feel it so deeply in my core.
I cry, Lord, you know the tears.
I feel such pain and my heart is ripped.
It bleeds into my chest and I wrack my brain thinking
Of options out of my circumstances.
Just work to change it and get there.
Your Spirit tunnels me back into the now moment.
Here, whatever is here, is what you, God of gods, have chosen for me.
This is what you want to give me.
Is this where joy and suffering learn to dance: now?
I hate reality
But I give thanks
I see your splendor in the lightning your works at growth through the rain. You call me tenderly into the woods and show me all you’ve gladly made. I taste the cool air and thank you for the blankets. You listen through a friend. You gather my tears and put them in jars.

I stand at the Light Rail and see a ‘woman of the streets.’ She averts her eyes and I want to hug her. She mumbles something about a ‘perfectly good Vicadin.’ Suddenly, she is on her hands and knees digging into the wet, dirty ground. She digs for this pill and pulls it up with a grin. The pill is soggy, patched with dirt. She shoves it into her mouth, desperate for relief.

What do I shove in my soul-to get some relief-find some escape? Christ, now I’m confronted with my desperation. And you blood offers so much more than a Vicadin.

Mltitude on Mondays

#9-20

9. Laughing Yoga class (with a homework assignment of 10 minutes of uninterrupted laughter a day)
10. warmth of Florida in February
11. a God who gives orders to the dawn and tells lightning where to go
12. Cards from grandma
13 a washing machine
14. full tires on my car
15. daydreams about the future, what could God have for us?
16. giggles on the couch
17. kisses that you fell rattle your knee caps
18. humidity
19. little girl backpacks shaped like butterflies, believing that she could really fly at any moment
20. threads of eternity stitched in our hearts (Eccl. 3:11)

Multitudes on Mondays

One Thousand Gifts
Multitudes on Mondays

“…and giving joyful thanks to the Father…” (Col 1:12).
It moves my soul,
Green square to orange, like pieces in Candyland
Sweetly coming closer to the Courts of our Father.
This is what giving thanks does.

Beginning today, I join a community of believers who give thanks, joyfully, on Mondays. Please see Ann Voskamp’s blog for the blessings beginnings. Hoping to reach 1,000 gifts of thanks, I begin today with a few.

#1-8

for four best friends, roommates, legs wrapped, cuddling
for spontaneous prayer times
maple soy lattes
your Word, when I drink it in deep and savor
bunny trails in conversations, that leave you at the end searching for the beginning,
nicknames
random eye contact with strangers
everyone in Minnesota wearing scarves

My little wallpaper house

I’ve been thinking lately that when things are unknown and scary, we naturally build a fear surrounding it. For me, something is unknown I fear I will fail, so I attempt to control the situation. This control manifests itself in expectation. If only I know what this situation MAY hold, then I can prepare myself with the plausible outcomes.

I walk into a darkened house and I imagine what the wallpaper will look like. I imagine the fixings in the kitchen, the upholstery, the layout. I even dream of the day I can turn on the switch, how great will that day be? Every girl has done this one: pick out what the guy of our dreams. He will have a great heart for the Lord; he will tell me I’m beautiful every half hour; he will love to run with me; he will tell great jokes sending my mother laughing. Then I beg God to let me turn on the switch, “C’mon, Lord, haven’t I waited long enough?”
The day comes when I turn on the light, flipping the switch.
BANG!
Reality takes its form, overlaying my expectation. I see both. I see where the couch didn’t line up with my imagination; it’s off by three inches. Oh no!
The wallpaper is way too busy, the furniture too dark, he is too short, he doesn’t shower enough, etc.
What comes next is the thing that I think God is teaching me in this season.
Do I start to tear down the wallpaper? Or adapt? (a better word may be surrender).

A serious question for myself may be, “if you don’t meet what you’ve designed as God’s expectation for how you should live, you fail, do you still believe God will love you? Or do you feel you’ve stepped outside of His will for your life? And can you return? Or how many times will He let you return?”

He promises to cast our sins into the depths of the sea (Micah 7:19).
He says he will gather me from exile (Ps 147:2)
He runs to me while I’m and has compassion and runs to embrace me and kiss me (Luke 15:11-32).

Bare

Lord, I don’t accept your love. When you say it, I don’t hear it. I refuse my heart to listen for fear-it will undo me. When you share that I’m beautiful, I’m embarrassed, looking away. If I believe that, I’ll prove myself a liar.
Scared, I pray: let me be naked and a liar.

A Drive From Bismarck

Snow blowing, eye following
Right to left
Grip harder to the steering wheel
Right to left
Only white, blank filled perspective
Right to left
Three feet of road, black in contrast
Right to left
Following the wind, veer left, pull back
Right to left
Hope rises, sign posts appear every thirty feet
Right to left
Vision doesn’t clear, but stability finds itself
Signpost right
Sign post right
Sign post right

Though the Olive Fails

"Though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines, [though] the product of the olive fails and the fields yield no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold and there are no cattle in the stalls,

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the [victorious] God of my salvation!^E)">(E)

The Lord God is my Strength, my personal bravery, and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds' feet and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror, but to walk] and make [spiritual] progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering, or responsibility]!"

Habakkuk 3:17-19

I'm sitting at my desk with the chubbiest, cutest baby on my lap. How could I not hope in God. But, boy it can be difficult. The last week has been a journey-one I can't seem to put into words. Only that, I've seemed to have lost my joy. by

,m ?

Baby wrote the above.

Today, I'm choosing to walk by faith. Though I see no fruit in my ministry. Though I feel cut off from the flock. Though relationships seem barren of cattle. Yet, I will rejoice in the Lord. I will exult the God of my Salvation. By faith.

"Though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines,

though the product of the olive fails and the fields yield no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold and there are no cattle in the stalls,

YET I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the victorious God of my Salvation!

The Lord God is my Strength, my personal bravery, and my invincible army;

He makes my feet like hinds' feet and will make me to walk

-not to stand in terror, but to walk-

and make spiritual progress upon my high places

-of trouble, suffering, or responsibility."

Habakkuk 3:17-19

Pumpkin Series

this one is sad

A prayer after a horrible day....
Is this all for naught, Lord? Have I wasted my life pouring into these girls?
I just spent the last two hours listening to words of death. Listening to nothing that has the aroma of Christ. Like a tomb of rot.
Curse this, "Oh, my god!" that, stabbing insults at every person under the sun. Over and over again. Singing lyrics of songs that promote inventing ways to sin. Trying to figure out ways to mess with the mind of boys. If there's a lull in the conversation, fill it with hateful words about their teachers.
I couldn't even speak today, no word would move out of my mouth.
I just sat there begging for your Spirit.
Help Lord.
We drove through the streets of St. Paul and the tension rose in my soul.
Maneuvering around snow mounds, a car honks, I'm in their way.
Sliding between two cars, each parked on one side of the street. Another car approaches as I begin to make my way between. He won't stop, I break. Inches between us, we both squeeze through, not before giving me the bird.
One thought on their mind, themselves.
I don't know, honestly, how the world manages to get anything done when the only thing we can possibly think about is ourselves. That is our sole thought, our motive, our conversation.
"Why are we here?" "Why did God create us?"
So we could be happy. One might believe.
Because God needs us. Another apostates.
We've lost our first love.
I just want to scream at the world, at the church, and look in the stupid mirror at myself,
"It's not about YOU!"

Instead, I sit in my car and feel sorry for myself that I can't seem to see any fruit in the lives of these girls. I'm defeated. I'm of little faith.

Lord, I pray for these girls, give them a heart of flesh and eyes to see your Kingdom. Drop the scales from their eyes that they may behold the Christ. And be forever changed. Give me faith.
World, see the Christ. He is long awaited and now celebrated. See his humility. All nations be moved in your hearts, be torn. Rend them, Lord. How great is the love of your Son. On the sweet cheeks of a baby, red with birth, the very blood pumps that would rescue my soul. That rescues yours, O peoples. See the wrapped hands that grasp virgin mother, these same hands would touch the eyes of the blind and give sight! World, see! Behold!

Amen.

Going Limp

Anyone else feel like January hits and there drops your disposition?
I’m tired
I’m cold
I’m really crabby
My co-worker and I have a game we play when we get emotionally overloaded and really want to scream and yell; we fall out of our chairs onto the floor. We fake cry, sometimes it’s a real cry, and then giggling begins. You look ridiculous, laying on the floor in the fetal position, whining. Who wouldn’t laugh?
Today, I began my day on the floor.
I’ve been thinking, how do I get up off the floor? How do I speak to my soul as David does in the Psalms, to speak truth to myself?
“Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.” Psalm 43:5

I’m moved to set firm the Word of the Lord in my heart, by memorizing scripture. My goal is to memorize the book of Ephesians by Easter. If you would like to join me, here is a link to a weekly guide to memorizing the book of Ephesians.

Please pass the F & S

Two words circle my thoughts and peer at me through sermons, scripture, and books.
Faith
Suffering
Human logic would say that God must be planning some painful time of suffering requiring much faith. I don’t feel this truth.
But I will share with you my musings on the two words.
Faith
this gift. The more I understand it, I don’t understand it. It seems impossible for humans to conjure up faith and then have enough of it to last and not run out. As I read scripture-I see that God strengthens us in faith (Rom 4:20) that it is a gift not of ourselves (Eph 2:8).
Faith is imperative in the abundant life. I have a friend who is in a theological battle. He wonders at God’s character. A God who created man with the weakness to sin and in foreknowledge knew man would fall. He planned redemption, but not before knowing His justifying wrath. Millions damned to Hell with a chosen few to be saved by the blood of His son.
This thought sucks. There is not enough known about the Lord to satisfy an answer. This battle causes me to look up at God and know that his ways are not my ways (Isa 55:8). With faith, I move on. But my friend cannot.
What is faith?
Suffering
a blessing. I view suffering through the lens of economics. If I suffer for a season, God will reward me and reveal wisdom as to why I suffered. We say things like this all the time when our friends are going through hard times. “God has a reason…you’re learning from this…it will pass…” It’s like paying God five dollars, he owes us something for it. This begs me to look at the opposite. Perhaps God never reveals a reason, perhaps you never learn anything from it, or you never leave that suffering, will you still love God? Will I?
so we come back to faith.