The Gift

The darkness was closing in around me.  The wilderness had been  bleak and threatening before, but not like this. Never like this. I couldn’t see a thing.  Each step brought new danger.  Each moment seemed more and more ominous.  Even the air was heavy–I could scarcely breathe …

Hard pressed on every side, but not crushed.

Confusion reigned.  Absolutely nothing made sensed. I didn’t understand.  In my mind, I retraced my steps over and over again. Each step had been taken in faith; in obedience.  Or so I thought.  Obviously, I had done something very wrong.  Took a wrong turn somewhere.  How else could I have ended up here?

Perplexed, but not in despair.   

There was nowhere to hide. I felt exposed. No matter which way I turned, arrows from the enemy’s camp pounded me. Accusations. Threats. Lies.  I would dodge them for a while, but they would start again from another direction.  They swirled around me from every side–it became impossible to defend myself …

Persecuted, but not abandoned.

I was shaking from head to toe. I knew I couldn’t stand much longer.  My legs felt like jello–one last well-timed jab kicked them out from underneath me. I lost my footing.  I began to slip …

Struck down, but not destroyed.

BUT.  NOT.  DESTROYED.

I couldn’t believe it, I thought I was down for the count.  But a strength I didn’t know I possessed lifted me from the ground.  I had been struck down, but I refused to quit.  It wasn’t over until it was OVER.

As I clawed my way back up, things became strangely calm. Peaceful, even. I fumbled over to a clearing. The fog lifted just a bit. I could see well enough to take inventory.  I was bruised and bloodied.  I was weary and disoriented. But I was not crushed. I was not in despair. I had not been abandoned …

And I had not been destroyed.

I knew the worst was over, but I was still incredibly shaky.  My steps were tentative.  I hadn’t been destroyed, but it also hadn’t been pretty. Although I had somehow managed to survive, I knew I had done just about everything wrong.  The deep regret I felt over my failure seemed worse than the wounds I sustained in the battle.  I wanted to be brave. I wanted to show I could be trusted as a warrior. I wanted to honor him by standing faithfully in the heat of battle. 

Instead, I barely made it out alive.

Humbled and broken, I feebly bowed before the Commander of the Angel Armies; the Lord of Hosts.  I was so relieved by his presence, but deeply grieved that I had let him down–the very One I desired to please.

“I’m so sorry I failed.  I’m so, so sorry.  But if you still want me, I’m still yours.  I have so little to offer you.  I wish I could give you more, but  all I can offer you is … is this …”

I opened my fist and released a single, pea-sized nugget.  It was the one thing I hadn’t lost. It was so small.  It seemed so insignificant. But I had managed to keep it safe throughout the battle. 

“This is what’s left. I know it’s very small, but it’s all I have … it’s for you.”  

As I laid my miniscule gift at his feet, I was startled to realize it didn’t look the way it had when I first set out on the journey.  Then it had been rough and jagged–an ordinary looking rock, really.  But now … now it glowed.   It was no longer rough and jagged, it was smooth and polished.  It sparkled.  It was dazzling …

It was pure gold.

I gasped.  He smiled.  Our eyes met.  And I knew …

This is what he wanted all along.

What I saw as failure, he saw as a gift.  A gift more precious than the gold it was wrapped in…

He saw faith.  

And it pleased him.

Seeing the Unseen

This post probably isn’t about what you might think it is about.

I’ve actually started it several times.  I haven’t had the nerve to finish it and post it. I don’t know if I will this time either, but it won’t go away.

So here I am yet again. If you’re reading this, well, I guess I got brave and took the plunge  …

So what is it this subject that won’t go away?  What is it this vexing topic that continually provokes my mind and heart? 

Community.

Sounds innocuous, doesn’t it?  Such a friendly little word. It’s a good thing–right?

It would be–if we had a clue what it really meant.  It seems that everyone is talking about  “community” these days.  And that’s the problem–there’s a lot of talk.

I’ll be honest, I don’ t know a lot about true community. I want to.  I desperately desire to.  I believe we were wired for deep meaningful and lasting connection.  Not only with God, but also with one another. My heart craves it. I’ve had a few glimpses–a few tastes–throughout the years, but I know there’s more. There has to be more.  I want more. But I haven’t seen it …

Yet.

On the other hand, what I have seen isn’t so great …

-I’ve seen a lot of sincere but misguided efforts

-I’ve seen  a lot of cliques calling themselves community

-I’ve seen many well-intentioned people who are long on talk but short on   meaningful action

-I’ve seen technology broaden our sphere of relationship while decreasing one-on-one personal interaction

-I’ve seen the ”invisible ones” slip further into the cracks while the gap between the “have’s” and the ”have-not’s”  continues to widen …

And, saddest of all, I’ve seen the “have’s” repeatedly exhort the ”have-not’s” that their lack of community is their own doing.

Oh, they don’t use those words.  But the message is clear …

“You just need to reach out.”  ” You just need to be real.”  “You just need to keep trying.”  “You just need to let people know.”  “You just need to focus on God.” “You just need to be a friend … “   “You just … “

And on and on it goes.

What’s ironic is that many of the “have’s” will tell you what a wonderful gift of God’s grace their community is–that they were blessed when they didn’t deserve it.  That they were pursued and loved in all their messiness.  And that’s the way it’s supposed to work.  When it does–it is body of Christ at its best.

But it doesn’t always work that way.  Not by a long shot.  And when it doesn’t–it is the body of Christ at its worst.

We don’t like to think about the body at its worst.  Doesn’t sound very positive. Doesn’t sound like faith.  So we compound the problem by refusing to see that it really is a problem.  If we blame the individuals, the church is off the hook–right?

It’s not helpful.  And it’s not community. If it’s all about making it happen for yourself when you’re beaten down and lonely, that pretty much boils down to one thing–survival of the fittest.  Which, of course,  is not the gospel of Jesus Christ … 

It’s Darwinism. 

Loneliness is epidemic in our society. It’s roots are woven deep into the fabric of our culture.  In the west, we have  been profoundly impacted by a ”survival of the fittest” mindset–even in the church.

We’re spread thin.  We’re distracted.  We’re over-busy and under-rested. Some do realize there are “have-nots” but they simply don’t have the capacity to do much about it and assume someone else will.  It’s a deep and complex problem without simple, pat answers.  It’s easier to handout scripture band-aids and spiritual sound bites …

And then look the other way. 

But failing to appropriately acknowledge the problem doesn’t make it go away–it just causes the “have-nots” to feel even more invisible.

You may be surprised to know that most of the ”have-nots” don’t want you to “solve” the problem for them. Only God can set the lonely in families.  But they do want their need acknowledged as legitimate.  They want to be understood. They want to be heard.

They want to be seen.

For many, loneliness is simply a circumstance, yet we treat it as though it were a character flaw or the result of a lack of trust in God.  It can be at times, but just as often–it’s not.  There are many who do trust God.  Who have reached out. Who have been real.  Who have been there for others.  But they’re still alone and lacking authentic community.  In the garden of Eden,  Adam was walking in perfect, unbroken communion with God–yet in that ideal place of relationship–God said it was not good for man to be “alone.”

It’s still not good for man to be alone.

And because it’s not good for man to be alone we must understand that this is NOT an individual problem–it’s a corporate problem.  It’s not my problem.  It’s not your problem.  It’s our problem. But as long as we place the responsibility for the “solution” primarily on the backs of those who can bear it the least–the individuals reaping the pain of our scattered, distracted, and fractured society–we will never discover true biblical community. 

And in true biblical community … no one lacks. 

If you are blessed with a strong marriage;  close family connections; a great inner circle of friends–or maybe even all three–rejoice!  All of the body should gladly rejoice with you.  That’s how it should be.  But recognize that isn’t how it is for everyone.  In your rejoicing, don’t forget to weep with those who weep.  Don’t forget to encourage those with no encourager. Don’t forget to listen to the unheard.  

And don’t forget to see the unseen…

They just might be sitting in the pew next to you.

A Christmas Prayer

  Dear Father,

 

Thank You for the priceless gift of Your Son. This Christmas I pray that the miracle of the Incarnation—that God became flesh and dwelt among us—will be birthed anew in my heart. Open my eyes to see with fresh insight.  Let me come to You with the faith and trust of a child.  Help me to stand in amazement at the wonder of it all … God in a manger.  The King of Glory in swaddling clothes.  The Lord of all creation, a helpless infant.

 

Lord, I don’t get it.  I wouldn’t have planned it that way. You came in a way that was so humble, so unpretentious.  You made it seem almost … well … normal.  Help me to learn from that, Lord.  This Christmas, help me not to miss the supernatural by looking for the spectacular.  Help me not to miss the holy amongst the ordinary moments of life. Because that’s how You came.  You were born into an ordinary family.  You walked among ordinary men and women. Men and women just like me. The extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary.

Lord, there is so much pressure at Christmas time.  So many expectations.  Often, so many disappointments.  It’s easy to forget what’s important.  Remind me, Lord—in the busyness, in the commercialization, and even in loneliness and disappointments—help me to remember what’s important.  And what’s most important is You.        

Lord, I pray for “holy moments”—moments when I get it.  Moments when the eternal transcends the temporal.   Moments that cause me to pause and reflect on the miracle of who You are and what You’ve done for me.  Moments when I understand how extraordinarily valuable this ordinary life is to You.  Moments of realization that even the most humble and ordinary life can be transformed by Your simplest touch; by Your gentlest whisper.  They may be just moments, but hidden in my heart they’ll live forever.   They’ll change me forever.

Jesus, You are the reason for the season, but I know You’re also so much more.  I want You to be the reason for each and every moment of my life.  Be the reason for every breath; every heartbeat.   Help me to live a life that celebrates Your birth—Your life—each and every day of mine.   Most of all, Lord, I pray that maybe, just maybe, You will use this very ordinary life as a vessel of Your incredibly extraordinary love. 

In Jesus’ Name, Amen  

                                                 **********

NOTE: I wrote this for a Christmas tea I spoke at eight years ago (my how time flies!).  I ran across it again recently and decided to post it here.  May your Christmas be filled with an abundance of holy moments!  Blessings and shalom to you and yours ~Cindy

Wise Men Still Seek Him

The shepherds followed the glory.

The wise men followed the star.

Anna and Simeon followed their hearts.

They had one thing in common–they were seeking him.

 And they found him.

I imagine he didn’t look the way they thought he would look.  He made his appearance as an ordinary looking child.  A helpless babe–not a glorious king.  They probably could have shrugged off what they saw and dismissed their hopes as the product of an overactive imagination …

But they weren’t looking with their natural eyes–they looked with the eyes of their heart. They looked with the eyes of faith.   And to the eyes of faith–he was glorious.  Our promised redemption wrapped in human flesh.  A glimpse of  God’s embarrassingly lavish grace hidden in plain sight. 

It would have been easy to miss him.  Many did. He doesn’t do things the way we expect him to do them.  Often, he doesn’t look the way we expect him to look.  

After the crucifixion,  he was standing right in front of Mary Magdalene, yet she didn’t recognize him … until he called her name. 

The disciples on the way to Emmaus walked and talked with him for hours and hours, yet they almost missed him … until they realized their hearts had burned in his presence.

Is he calling your name?

Is your heart stirring … burning …to seek him?  To see him?

Not to merely know about him, but to know him.  Not to merely hear about him, but to see him.  

Yes, wise men still seek him.  And those who seek him, find him.   And those who find him are never content with a single glimpse.  Because once you’ve seen him–once you’ve truly glimpsed his glory and his majesty–your heart is forever consumed with the longing to …

     ~ Seek him

     ~ Touch him

     ~ Love him

     ~ Worship him

     ~ See him …

Again and again.

Have you seen him?  Do you want to?

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” –God (Jeremiah 29:13)

Preparing Room

Joy to the world! The Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King;

Let every heart prepare him room …

 

We hear the song every Christmas.  Let every heart prepare him room. 

But do we … really?

What does it mean to prepare room for him in my heart?  What does it mean … really?

How can I prepare him room when my time bank always seems overdrawn?

How can I prepare him room when my emotional reserves are running perilously close to empty?

How can I prepare him room when I’m tired and hurting and giving all I’ve got just to get it all done and keep going?

How can I prepare him room in the sameness of a day-to-day routine that threatens to squeeze out all remnants of hope and possibility?

How can I prepare him room?

Maybe by remembering that he has already prepared room for me.

He prepared room for me in my weakness.

He prepared room for me in all of my busyness and in the midst of my many distractions.

He prepared room for me in my failures and in my frailty.

He prepared room for ME.  Me as in me the way I really am, not me as in me the way I wish I were.   He prepared room for the me who is complete in him–and for the me who is still very much in process.

He prepared room for me even though he knew I wouldn’t always prepare room for him.

He prepares room for me here and now–and he has gone ahead to prepare room for all of eternity.  He’s even prepared room for me to sit with him on his throne!

Wherever I go; wherever I am; whatever the season of life–he has prepared room for me.

He’s prepared room for you, too.

So next time you realize you haven’t been preparing all that much room for him, remember that he has prepared for just such a moment.  Remember that he’s already prepared room for you …

       In his heart

       In his arms

       In his kingdom

       On his throne

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” –John 14:3

You know the way … because he is the way. 

“So don’t let your hearts be troubled…”  instead, go to that place he’s already prepared for you. 

When you do,  your heart will find room for just a bit more of him.

Happy Endings

This started out as a very different post.  I noticed that my recent  writing “style” had been leaning a particular way.   It’s not  that I necessarily liked it or disliked it–I just wanted to write something different.

I wanted to write something different because sometimes when I look at my own blog … when I see the lovely tranquil header in such an idyllic location (from the Mt of Beatitudes overlooking the Sea of Galilee, by the way) … when I read the serene sounding tagline and the many references to “faith” and  ”simplicity”… when I take in the “spiritual” content of the posts …

Well, sometimes I just can’t relate. 

Yep, that’s right.  Even though it’s my blog and I’ve written everything on here … sometimes I can’t relate.

I can’t relate because it all ends up sounding so dang spiritual.   And, frankly, sometimes  I feel about as spiritual as a rock.  Sometimes–a little too often, really– “tranquility” “stillness” “simplicity” “focus” and “peace” do not describe my mood or my life.  Sometimes “stressed” “anxious” “distracted” “tired” and “numb” are more accurate.

So I wanted to try something else.  Something that I thought might be a bit more relateable across a broader spectrum.  Something that didn’t seem so darn spiritual and hopeful. Something a little  grittier.  Something that seemed more real.

So, um, ask me how it worked out.

Yeah, not so well. After spending a lot of time I didn’t have trying to get something to flow that was never meant to be uncorked in the first place, I finally gave up.  I figured I’d try again the next day.  But by the time the next day arrived and I got back to it …

He’d already gotten to me.

He = God.  As in Father, Son, and Spirit.  As in Jesus the Messiah; the Holy One of Israel; the Son of David; Lord of all  …

Yeah, that’s the one that always gets me –Lord.  As in he gets to be God and I don’t.  As in he gets to be the One who invades everything I do in ways that are, at times, far less convenient and “relateable” than I’d like.  But I realized again this morning …

I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I wouldn’t have it any other way, because this is who I am.  He invades my life because I’ve invited him to. The truth is I can’t be any other way, because this is how he made me.  And this is how he’s called me to communicate.

Life is hard sometimes.  Sometimes circumstances don’t have happy endings. Honestly, I’ve seen enough of “hard” to last a couple of lifetimes.  But I’ve also seen something else …

I’ve seen him. 

And when I see him, I don’t think about hard–I think about goodness.  I think about grace. I think about happy endings. 

I may not always feel spiritual, but my relationship with Jesus and the reality of who I am in him is not dependent on feelings or circumstances. He is who he is regardless of how I feel.  And I am who he says I am regardless of how I feel about myself on any given day. 

Who I am is his beloved.  And what he’s asked me to do is reveal his heart.

It’s really not that difficult.

He hasn’t asked me to be gritty. He hasn’t asked me to try something different. He hasn’t asked me to try to “relate” to as many people as possible.  He hasn’t even asked me to try to relate to my own feelings!  He’s simply asked me to be who he says I am and release the message he has entrusted to me. 

That message is simply this:  In the midst of a crazy, mixed up, challenging and pain-filled world–he is good.  He is hope.  He is peace. He is love.

He is near.

And he is, and forever will be, the God of happy endings.

The Lord is Near

The Lord is near …

Do not be anxious about anything

The Lord is near …

But in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God

The Lord is near…

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus

The Lord is near …

Whatever is true, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things

The Lord is near …

Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me–put it into practice and the God of peace will be with you

The Lord is near …

I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want

The Lord is near …

I can do everything through him who gives me strength

The Lord is near.

But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, That I may tell of all Your works. –Ps. 73:28 NASB

Worth the Wait

Walk with me, beloved.

I took his hand and we began walking down a brightly lit corridor.  Almost immediately, I saw a large red door.  This must be it!  The door he promised to open for me! I stood waiting with anticipation.  I just knew that door would open any minute …

It didn’t. 

I looked up and realized the Lord had been patiently waiting for me as I waited by the wrong door. He gently shook his head and we continued on.

Next, there was a blue door. I started to pause but realized Jesus wasn’t stopping there either.  Immediately, the blue door was followed by a green door, then a purple door, then a silver one, a gold one ….  We were passing them so quickly, it made my head spin.  At first, I was distracted by each one–admiring the different colors, shapes, and sizes–I kept wondering if one of them was “my” door.  I was so expectant, I just knew one would open at any time.

It didn’t.

The doors we passed became less frequent.  There was a stretch–a very long stretch–when we didn’t pass any doors at all.

We kept walking.  On and on …

And on.

The passageway became narrower.  Steeper.  Darker.  We were no longer in a brightly lit corridor.  In fact, it became so dark it was difficult to see anything at all.  I had to hold his hand firmly to keep from stumbling.  I had to focus intently just to see the small flicker of light that barely illuminated the very next step. 

Despite the difficulty, I was glad to be with him.  His presence was my comfort.  My peace.  My strength. But truthfully, I wasn’t expectant anymore.  I wasn’t excited.  My heart was no longer filled with anticipation.  I stopped looking for the door he promised to open and resolved to simply enjoy being with him. I resolved to continue walking with him–even as the days turned into years and there no longer appeared to be a clear purpose for the journey.

We just kept walking.  On and on …

And on.

After a long while, unexpectedly, I noticed the path had become brighter again.  I looked up and saw yet another door.  Unlike the others, this one wasn’t to my right or my left–it was dead ahead.

And we were headed straight for it.

It was a small door.  A plain door.  A small, drab wooden door.   But instinctively I knew… 

I knew this was my door.

The door was already slightly ajar. I realized the light we had been walking into was coming from behind the door!  This plain little door literally couldn’t contain the glory shining from within!  The brilliance escaping from the tiny, cracked opening shone with greater radiance and intensity  than anything I had ever experienced.

My heart was pounding as we approached.  Could it be?  After all this time, could it really be that there was still an open door …

For me?

The door itself was plain, but the handle and lock were beautiful.  Exquisite, really. They were intricately carved and looked to be fashioned of pure gold.  Such extravagant detail lavished upon such a simple place of entry. As Jesus reached for the door, he paused and turned to look at me with the most dazzling smile I have ever seen. 

Then, in one swift motion–before I could even fathom the breathtaking possibilities of the glory about to be revealed–he threw the door fully open.  In a single instant I knew the truth of what he had been telling me all along …

   I wasn’t late.

   I wasn’t behind. 

   I hadn’t somehow stumbled onto the wrong path.

   I hadn’t missed “it.”

   I was where I was supposed to be. 

    I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.

… And he had set before me an open door.  An open door that no man could shut.

I’m heading toward that open door … 

And I’m pretty sure it’s going to be worth the wait.

Return

Return

Return to Me

Turn around; change your mind

Return to My heart; return to My peace

Take your thoughts captive to the Truth

Silence the lies of the accuser–

Return and rest

 

Rest

Rest in Me

Step out of the commotion

Inhale–breathe in the soothing aroma of My presence

Exhale–breathe out the perplexity and the pain

Embrace the beautiful communion of silence–

Return and rest in quietness

 

Quiet

Quiet your weary soul

Be still and remember

Remember the richness of our history together

Proven faithfulness; love beyond words

Open arms always longing to hold you–

Return and rest in quiet trust

 

Trust

Trust in Me

Trust in Me with all of your heart

Lean into My arms of grace

When you can’t hold on; I’ll still hold you

If your trust falters; I’ll still trust you …

 

I’ll trust you to return  

 

In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be your strength.  –Isaiah 30:15  

 

Of all the things I am grateful for–and there are many–I am most grateful for the enduring faithfulness of God’s love.  Whether you have taken a tiny step, or even a giant leap, away from his presence, he is always wooing and welcoming us back into his arms.  That fact alone keeps me close to his heart–the knowledge that no matter my condition I am always welcomed, always accepted, always and forever loved.

Today my heart is filled with gratitude to the “giver of every good and perfect gift” and I long for him to have his heart’s desire.  Wherever you are today– return and remember the great love of God. It is not only the best gift you can give yourself …

It is the best gift you can give him. 

Dear Lord, 

With gratitude in our hearts for all you’ve done–we return to the safety and peace of your presence.  In quietness and trust, once again,  we find our strength in you.

~Amen.

 

What Do You Want Me to Do?

“What do you want me to do, Lord?”

I don’t want you to do anything

I want you to be

I want you to be still

I want you to be still and know …

I am God

 

But what about all the needs out there?  What about being willing to take risks?  What about stepping out in faith?  What about getting out of the boat; going out on a limb?  Doesn’t faith require action?

“Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God” (Romans 10:17).  Faith in action is doing whatever I ask you to do–even if I’m simply asking you to be.  It’s only in learning to “be” that you will fully know when and what to “do.”

For many it is difficult coming to the point of being willing to do whatever he asks.  But when you have already settled that issue, often it is most difficult when he isn’t asking you to do much of anything. 

Not much of anything except …

Wait.

Trust.

Hope.

…  And be still.

Jesus only did what he saw the Father doing.  He went to those he was sent to–when he was sent.  He was clear on his mission and he didn’t hold anything  back–but he also didn’t arbitrarily immerse himself in a flurry of ministry activity just to “feel” productive. 

I definitely haven’t been feeling terribly productive or fruitful in a spiritual sense lately. It is incredibly tempting to do something–anything–to try to make something happen. Heaven knows there are so many needs.  Some of them, I could meet …

But I don’t want to be arbitrary–I want to be focused.  I don’t want to spend my energy on what is merely good–I want to spend my life on what is best.  I don’t just want to “go”–I want to be sent.  I only want to do what I know he’s asking me to do–when he’s asking me to do it. 

So I keep asking …

“What do you want me to do, Lord?” 

And I keep hearing …

I don’t want you to do anything

I want you to be

I want you to be still

I want you to be still and know …

I am God

 

What about you?  Is he still waiting for you–or are you in a place of stillness waiting for him?

“Whatever he tells you to do, do it” (John 2:5). 

Even when all he tells you to do …

Is be.

Shhh …

Shhh …

What do you hear?

When the smartphone is put away.  When the computer is shut down.  When the television and the iPod are silent.  What do you hear?

Do you hear him?

Shhh …

What do you hear?

When the props are gone.  When the distractions fade. When everyone and everything else slips into the background.  When the hiding places are exposed. When the facades are stripped away.  What do you hear?

Do you hear him?

Shhh …

What do you hear?

Listen closely. He is speaking. He is speaking to you. In the stillness, in the quiet–he is always speaking. Is your world too busy, too crowded, too loud to hear?

When it’s just you and God–what’s left?  What’s your reality in him? Are you satisfied or dissatisfied? Content or frustrated?  At rest or restless? Longing to linger or anxious to move on?

The older I get, the more I appreciate the quiet.  I used to fight the silence.  I thought if God was quiet–nothing important was happening.  But I don’t think anything could be further from the truth.  In fact, I think more happens in the quiet–when God is working deep beneath the surface of things–than at any other time.   Because in the stillness–he is there.

Shhh…

What do you hear?

“Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

Jesus, please still the motion and commotion that surrounds my life; bring stillness and quiet my soul.  Draw me away with you–apart from the distractions of this world–and open my ears and my heart to the glorious sounds of silence.  I want to be still, Lord–I want to be still and KNOW you are God.

This Little Light of Mine …

This little light of mine,  I’m gonna let it shine

This little light of mine,  I’m gonna let it shine

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine …

 

In dark times; in the midst of turmoil; in confusion and uncertainty …

I’m gonna let it shine 

In a world filled with sorrow and pain; in the midst of hopelessness and loss; amongst the depraved and the despondent …

I’m gonna let it shine

Hide it under a bushel – no! I’m gonna let it shine

Hide it under a bushel – no! I’m gonna let it shine

Hide it under a bushel – no! I’m gonna let it shine

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine …

 

When it’s easier to check out; when I want to put my head in the sand; when it’s tempting to run …

I’m gonna let it shine

When I feel inadequate; when I’m tired and would rather not bother; when self-preservation sounds like a good idea  …

I’m gonna let it shine 

Don’t let Satan snuff it out, I’m gonna let it shine

Don’t let Satan snuff it out, I’m gonna let it shine

Don’t let Satan snuff it out, I’m gonna let it shine

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine  

 

When I think I’m not making a difference;  when there are too many needs and not enough hands; when fear surrounds me …

I’m gonna let it shine

When evil threatens to overwhelm good; when I’m bruised and bloody from the battle; when I don’t think my heart can take anymore …

I’m gonna let it shine

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine …

A few years back as I was praying, I was drawn up into the light of heaven. I began to intercede and cried out, “Lord, bring the light to Israel …!”  but he stopped me and said, No, you bring the light to Israel!   I cried out again, “Lord, bring the light to Thailand …” but he interrupted again, No, you bring the light to Thailand!

I wonder how many prayers  will never be answered because he has already commissioned us to be the answer?

So often we view the injustice of the world and say “God do something!”  But he already did do something –he paid the price for all iniquity and injustice.  He left us as ambassadors of his kingdom–a kingdom of righteousness, peace, and joy. He sent his own Spirit to dwell inside of us and left all power and authority at our disposal. 

Why aren’t we  doing something?

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men to do nothing.” –Edmund Burke.

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others …” (Matt.5:14-16).

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine …

What I (Really) Need

I don’t need …   

   –another great sermon or a good book

   –a divine appointment or an important connection

   –a word of encouragement or exhortation

I don’t need to visit  …

   –a significant or sentimental place from the past

   –an anointed conference

   –a church or a prayer room

I’m not looking for …

   –a mountain top experience

   –profound revelation

    –or even breakthrough

What I need is simple …

I need Him.

Only Him. I MUST have Him.  I have to have Him.

Without Him, nothing means anything.  With Him, even pain and loss become stepping-stones to greater joy.

Don’t get me wrong …

I’m eternally grateful for many great messages; good books; divine appointments; and encouraging words. 

I’ve been deeply blessed  by visits to significant places; by many anointed conferences; and  some amazing churches and prayer rooms.

I’ve been transformed by mountain top experiences; profound revelations; and life changing spiritual breakthroughs. 

But right here, right now …

My need … my ache … my desire … my longing …

Is for him.

To be with Him … to know Him … to see Him … to touch Him … to worship Him  …

To love Him.

I don’t need words.  I don’t need a place.  I don’t need an experience or even an answered prayer …

I need Him.

I need His presence …

In His presence, this senseless world makes sense.  In His presence, restlessness becomes rest. In His presence, impatience becomes patience; confusion becomes clarity; and heartache becomes wholeness …

In His presence is fullness of joy.

As I set my face and my heart to seek Him …

   –I’m wooed by relentless love

   –drawn by the fire in His eyes

   –held by the silent embrace of His gaze

   –immersed in the eternal glory of His Being

   –both stirred and satisfied by desire too deep for words

I’m complete … I’m whole … I’m at peace … 

I’m loved.

I’m ruined for lesser passions … my heart ravished by the superior pleasure of loving Him … lovesick with desire.

In Him, I have everything I need …

Him.

Beautiful Jesus, You alone satisfy the longing in my soul. There is nothing quite like the reality of being known by You and being loved by You–and the privilege of knowing You and loving You in return. 

“I am my beloved’s. And my beloved is mine.  I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me.”  –Song of Solomon 6:3 and 7:10 (NKJV)

“I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, that you tell him I am lovesick!” –Song of Solomon 5:8 (NKJV)

Homecoming

A young mind is firmly set–heart determined to find its own way.  New paths to explore and new adventures to be had.  The broad road beckons …

And a child wanders off the path of life.

Her head and knees are bowed–heart bared.  Tissues littered across the floor. Anguished sobs interspersed with declarations of truth and hope  …

A mother cries out for her child.

His ears are inclined–heart and arms open. He hears her cries and shares her tears. Watching and waiting for the perfect moment to intervene …

A Father longs for his children.

An unseen battle rages in heavenly realms.  Powers of darkness lure, entice … and ensnare.  Confusion reigns.  Deception prevails …

For a season.

But seasons change. 

Soon the bowls of incense that hold her prayers begin to tip. The fragrance of his presence is released.  The power of his love pursues.  He has saved every one of her tears and pours them out like rain.  A heart hardened by the lies of this world begins to soften …

He sees it first.  He sees the miracle unfolding from afar.  He sees the stirrings of a heart awakening to love.  He sees the secret treasures of darkness–the redemptive beauty arising out of the ashes of heartache and broken dreams.

She has to wait.

But she does wait.  She watches.  And she hopes. 

A mother always hopes.

Then one day it happens. As if out of nowhere, a miracle takes place.  That which was lost, is found.  The lost child returns. All of heaven celebrates.

She celebrates, too. Her grateful tears and whispered prayers of thanks thunder above the heavenly commotion. They reach the heart of the One who alone understands the depth of her gratitude.  Together they rejoice.

But together, they also continue to weep. Her heart is still bared. The floor is still littered with tissues.   A battle has been won, but the war continues.  A child has come home, but others are still lost.

Though he weeps with her, he sees before she does.  He sees the miracle unfolding from afar ….

She has to wait.

But she does wait.  She watches.  And she hopes. 

A mother always hopes ….

**********

This post is dedicated to all of the praying moms (and dads) who are waiting for prodigals to return. Whether you have been waiting for months, for years,  or even for decades, don’t lose heart. You are not alone. There is One who watches, waits–and hopes–with you.  The season is changing and they ARE returning.  Even now, he sees the miracle that is unfolding from afar …

“This is what the LORD says:

   ’Restrain your voice from weeping
   and your eyes from tears,
for your work will be rewarded,’ 
            declares the LORD. 
   ’They will return from the land of the enemy’”

–Jeremiah 31:16

The Beauty of His Peace (a.k.a.Today, Pt. 2)

I’m sitting here with the seeds of  a zillion ideas stirring within me.  But I keep being distracted from my many swirling thoughts.

I’m being distracted by the present.

It’s just too beautiful outside to think about tomorrow. I’m much too distracted by today.

Sometimes God gets on “themes” in my life.   Well, the current theme for me (and I suspect for many others) –is to live right here, right now.  It is good to plan for tomorrow–but I need to live in today.

As I’m writing these words, I hear the soothing sound of the breeze gently blowing through the trees.  Now and again, the wind carries the sound of children playing happily just down the street.  There is the hum of the occasional car rolling purposefully down the road. There is a lone bird chirping–singing sweet songs of praise to its Maker–right outside my window.  But more than all of these things  …

There is peace. There is stillness.  There is quiet. Today, there is quiet on the outside, and–more importantly–there is quiet inside my soul.

It’s been a season of turmoil. A season of way too much trauma and way too much drama. Sometimes it simply can’t be avoided.  Why are we ever surprised? Jesus assured us that times of trial and tribulation would be the reality of our lives on a restless planet. 

But he also promised another reality.  A higher and greater reality that trumps “reality” on this planet …

The reality of the kingdom of God. 

I’m merely passing through this restless earth–my citizenship is in heaven.  I am the subject of, and an ambassador for, another kingdom.  His kingdom.  And life in his kingdom is always characterized by righteousness,  joy …

And peace.

Today, my spirit is like a dry, thirsty sponge–desperately–hungrily– greedily–soaking up the reality of his kingdom.

I wish I could stay here all the time.  But I know I probably won’t. I’m growing.  I’m learning.  But I’m not there yet. 

I’m not there–but I am here.   I’m here, today.  And here, today …

There is peace. 

Thank you, sweet Jesus, for the beauty of your peace.

Finding My Voice

“Are you sure, Lord? I mean, are you really sure?”

Yes, love, I’m sure. This is one of the very things I had in my heart when I created you.

“But seriously, who even cares?  Honestly, tons of people are able to share the same kinds of things I share–and most of them do it a whole lot better.”

Whether or not you ever believe anyone else cares is irrelevant. I care. I’ve given you a unique outlook and a unique way of expression. No one else can say exactly what you can say, exactly the way you can say it. Your words–your voice–add more to the big picture than you will ever understand.

“You know how I hate to “bug” people. I hate the idea of making anyone feel obligated to listen to me or read the stuff I write–and I especially don’t want anyone to pretend they like it!”

How, or even if, other people respond isn’t your responsibility. Your responsibility is to be faithful with what I’ve give you.

“What qualifications do I have anyway?  What do I know?  Everything I share is just so simple …”

What do you know? You know me. You know the unique facets of my character I’ve revealed to you. There is great beauty in the simplicity of remaining true to who you are and what you know.

“Lord, you know I don’t  have the confidence or the desire for this kind of calling. There are plenty of people out there who do–people who really have something to say.  People who are confident in their message. If I was really supposed to be some kind of “voice” wouldn’t I have a little more confidence–or at least like it a little better?”  

Your confidence needs to be in me and not in what you do or don’t feel. You don’t fully see or understand the struggles of others anymore than they see or understand yours.  But you do know what I’m asking of you.  Will you follow me even when it doesn’t make sense? Will you trust me?

“I just don’t get it, Lord.  Are you sure … ?”

Apparently he is.  I’m the one who has been more difficult to convince. 

But recently the Lord enabled me to glimpse this issue from another perspective. For just a moment, he lifted the veil to the unseen realm.  What I saw shocked me. With startling clarity, I saw that I had been ”played” … for a whole lot longer than I care to admit. 

I may get tired of words (especially my own!) but when it comes to areas of gifting, that’s pretty much all I’ve got.  So what better place for hell to launch its most relentless attack in my life than in making sure  those words are never released?  I’ve finally grasped the fact that there have been “spiritual forces of wickedness” at work over the years that have spent an inordinate amount of time and energy trying to accomplish one simple goal …

To keep me quiet.

I’m not buying it anymore.  I may not understand it. I may not always enjoy it. I may never really see the point.  I may never even see much fruitfulness from the words I speak and write–but I will NOT be silent.

What about you?  Where has the “accuser” tried to silence you?   You don’t have to understand it. You don’t have to like it.  You just need to do what Jesus is showing you to do.  And when you do …

You’ll find your voice.

Today

Someday I will have something profound to say.  Someday I will have a great story, or great revelation, or something incredibly encouraging to share. 

Someday.  Maybe.  Someday.

But  today is not that day. Today is not someday.  Today is, well, today.

So I’m not going to try to be profound. I don’t have a really great story.  I have no new revelation. And I don’t know that I have anything particularly encouraging to share.

What I do have is today.  It’s all any of us have, really.  And today I’m not focused on anything but  … today.

There is grace for today. There is strength for today. There is hope for today. There is peace for today. There is joy for today.

As long as I’m living in today … and not someday.

Someone very wise once said, “Why do you worry about tomorrow?”  I don’t know why, but sometimes I do.  And when I do, it’s not pretty.  It’s not much better when I place my hope in someday.  Worrying about tomorrow.  Hoping in someday.  They pretty much have the same effect … 

I miss today.  And missing today would have been sad. 

If I had missed today, I would have missed a spectacular azure blue sky splattered with  fluffy white clouds that seemed to have been painted by the Master Artist himself.  I would have missed the comfort of well-loved familiar surroundings, interspersed with the ever-changing wonder of creation, as I took my daily walk. I would have missed the satisfaction of completing a few simple tasks and the joy of simply being. I would have missed the blissful, holy hush hidden deep within a few precious moments of absolute stillness.  I would have missed the uncensored freedom of being where I was and feeling what I felt.  But more than all of this …

I would have missed him. 

God doesn’t live in someday.  He is the “I Am”–right here, right now–and he lives in today.

Maybe someday I will have something profound to say.  Maybe someday I will I will have a great story, or great revelation, or something incredibly encouraging to share. 

Someday. Maybe. Someday.

But today I have something better … today.  

I’m glad I didn’t miss it.

Better Words

I have a confession to make–sometimes I get tired of words.  Tired of my own.  Tired of hearing them from others. Tired of saying them, tired of praying them–tired of writing them. We all use so many words.  Sometimes we’re careless or insensitive and use the wrong words. Other times we use the right words, but we don’t live them.  Our intentions are usually good but in the frailty of our  humanity, we frequently miss the mark … and our words fail.

On a recent sleepless night, I didn’t need more of my own words.  And I didn’t need someone else’s words.  I needed a higher vision and a higher hope than weak, fickle human words could offer. I needed his words … because his words are better than mine.  

I started reading–and declaring–his words from the Psalms of Ascent:

I lift my eyes to the hills–where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth (Ps.121:1-2).

If the LORD had not been on our side–let Israel say–if the LORD had not been on our side when men attacked us, when their anger flared against us, they would have swallowed us alive.  Praise be to the LORD, who has not let us be torn by their teeth.  We have escaped like a bird out of the fowler’s snare; the snare has been broken, and we have escaped (Ps. 124:1-3, 6-7).

Those who trust in the LORD are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever. As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people both now and forevermore. The scepter of the wicked will not remain over the land allotted to the righteous (Ps. 125:1-3).

Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping carrying seed to sow will return with songs of joy carrying sheaves with him (Ps.126:5-6).

Blessed are all who fear the LORD, who walk in his ways. You will eat the fruit of your labor, blessings and prosperity will be yours (Ps.128:1-2).

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope. My soul waits for the LORD more than watchmen wait for the morning (Ps. 130:5-6).

Lord, I lift my eyes to you.  My soul waits for you.  Whom have I in heaven, but you? Who can rescue, who can redeem, who can restore–but you? You are the One who brings beauty from ashes; you are the One who somehow, someway causes all things to work together for my good. You are the One who is always for me and always with me.  And you are the One–the only One–who always does what you say you will do.

Tonight I feel like my faith is hanging by a thread, but that’s my grip on you–your grip on me is strong and steadfast.  It is by sheer force of will–not by feelings of strength or faith–that I ascend your holy hill. It is a conscious, willful choice to lift my eyes and my heart to you.  My heart and my flesh may fail, but you are my strength and my portion forever.  Tonight weeping endures, but joy will come in the morning. That’s your word and your words never fail …

Because your words are better than mine.

The Anchor

I felt like the wind got knocked out of me.  A sucker punch right to the gut.  I never saw it coming.

“How could this happen, Lord? After all those years of standing in faith?  After so many sleepless nights praying until daybreak? After all the prophetic words?  After all of your promises?  I thought things had finally gotten better!”

My heart dropped like a lead balloon.  Immediately, my faith started to drift.  I felt myself being pulled under–plunged into the dangerous, dark waters of disbelief and despair. How could this be happening … again?  

It was bad.  Really  bad.   Something I never thought I’d see … again.  After waiting and praying for years and finally beginning to see glimpses of breakthrough, it was heartbreaking beyond words to see darkness establish such a deadly grip … again.  The schemes of hell were unleashed with full fury.  The circumstances taunted me–threatening to lure me deep into the sea of hopelessness.  I started to sink …

But then I hit something.  Something hard. Something solid.  Something immoveable.  Something that abruptly stopped my descent.

It was an anchor!  An anchor of hope.

I knew this anchor had been released years ago.  During the years of sleepless nights spent in fervent prayer. During the long years of choosing to believe without seeing. During the years of coming to know him and his faithfulness in a greater way. 

I stopped drifting. Instead of sinking, fresh hope arose in my heart.  Things looked bad, but it wasn’t over.  It’s not over until God says it’s over.  Until then, hope is still alive.  And “hope against hope, in hope, I believe.”

What are you waiting for?  Are you waiting for a prodigal to return?  Are you waiting for restoration?  For healing? For breakthrough? For faith to become sight? For longstanding promises to be fulfilled? Maybe, like me, you are waiting for all of the above and more.  Whatever it is–there is hope.  No matter how bad it looks.  No matter how long it’s been.  There is hope.

What God starts, he will finish. What he says, he will do.  I choose to believe him.  I choose to trust him.  I choose hope.

How about you?

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”  –Heb 6:19

And the anchor is holding.

You Know Me

Often what we think we need, isn’t what we need. Often what we think is broken, isn’t what is broken.  And often what we think will bring healing, isn’t what brings healing.  In those times, I am so grateful for a loving Father who knows me so much better than I know myself.

I was sitting in the prayer room at IHOP yesterday, asking the Lord to touch a place in my heart I knew only he could reach.  He did.  And, as is almost always the case, what I needed wasn’t what I thought I needed.  As he ministered directly to my true need, I realized–yet again–that he knows me.  I mean, he really knows me.  I started praying, then I started writing what I was praying, and this is what came out.  Not at all polished.  Not even sure it flows, but it’s what was on my heart (with a little help from Psalm 139 ) …

Before the foundations of the earth

You called me

Before you formed me in my mother’s womb

You knew me

You saw my substance when it was yet unformed

You saw all the days of my life before one of them came to be

Before I took my first breath–

You knew my name

You saw my face

You knew my heart

You saw the day I’d choose you

You always knew I’d choose you

So you chose me first

My name is forever engraved upon your heart

My name is carved into your hands

I’ve always been yours

I’ll always be yours

Forever and always–

I am yours

Where can go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

I’ll never escape your watchful gaze

I’m never out of your sight

And I’m never out of your thoughts

You’ve searched me and you know me

You’re familiar with all my ways

Yet you love me

More than words can express

Beyond my ability to comprehend

You love me

You know me and you love me

You’ve always known me

You’ve always loved me

And you always will

 

Lord,  I’ll never fully comprehend the miraculous beauty of your love. You see what no one else can see. You do what no one else can do.  You know me so much better than I know myself. Even when I feel like I have no voice and have absolutely no energy to try to explain how I feel or where I’m at, you already know and  you hear my unspoken desires.  You KNOW me.  You know what I need, you know what I desire, you know the deepest longings of my heart.  You know me and you love me.  And I’m thankful.    ~Amen