Where your focus is, your heart will follow. I have heard this before in many places, but it was highlighted this morning in my time in the opening portion of Genesis 11.
Many are familiar with the story of the Tower of Babel, how the men of the land of Shinar find the area and settled there. They begin to consult with one another rather than with the Lord. "They said to one another, 'come, let us make bricks and burn them throughly.'" (Genesis 11:3 ESV)
I imagine one guy tells another and they begin to work on their plan and others join in and no one has turned their eyes to the Lord as weeks pass. The bricks gather and the men work hard, not even realizing all their effort is in vain.
Psalm 127 reminds us, "Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain."
As the piles of brick grow and their focus on self increases, the men then consult with one another again, "Come let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth." (Genesis 11:4 ESV)
How quickly our focus turns to self. We are so full of self that we are drowning in the depression, the sadness, the pridefulness, the selfishness. Our eyes are too enamored with what we see in the mirror to turn them upward to the only One worth gazing at. We think self loathing and shame help us be humble when all the while we are still self focused. We build towers to the heavens only to be our own gods and all the while our souls are rotting away in the sin of it all.
Oh to have the heart of the psalmist! "I lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth." (Psalm 121:1 ESV)
So where is your focus today? Are you navel gazing or hill gazing?
How does we turn these eyes back to the One we were made to look to? What if we literally looked up, cried out and asked Him, "Open my eyes, that I may behold wonderous things out of Your law. Fix my eyes on Your ways." (Psalm 119:18, 16 ESV) He just might do as He promises and meet us where we are and give us eyes to see.
Friday, October 18, 2019
Tuesday, October 8, 2019
teaching not just telling
Recently, the passage in Exodus 4 where God is calling Moses to something beyond him, was brought to my attention. I haven't been able to stop mulling it over. This is the place where,
after proving His Presence by showing Moses the miraculous sight of a burning bush that isn't being consumed, God gives Moses his next assignment.
"Go to Pharaoh that you may bring My people out of Egypt."
Daunting, impossible task for this has-been palace dweller turned shepherd. But God gives him a magnificent assurance. "I will be with you." God Himself was intending to go with Moses every step of the way. He is a Present God who never leaves or forsakes us. But this Truth wasn't enough for ole' Moses. He kept pressing the Lord. He kept looking at himself rather than looking at his God.
Don't we do this sometimes? Don't we spend more time navel gazing and working on the excuses of why we shouldn't and can't do the very thing God is saying: "Yep this task- this one is for you. I have done this more times than I care to remember. Always pondering if and how I can do something rather than just trusting the God Who knows me better than I know myself and calls me to a task in order to bring Him glory.
Moses tries to pre-think, something I am good at too.
"I am not eloquent (who said eloquence was required?)" Moses explains to the One who made his tongue. God reminds him of that very truth: "Yes, I know, I made you, remember?"
And then God tells Moses something that has been flashing in my mind these last couple weeks.
"Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak."(Exodus 4:12, ESV)
God did not intend to TELL Moses what to say to Pharaoh. He intended to TEACH Moses what to say. He intended to TEACH him how to lead and bring His people out of their captivity.
This is especially interesting because Moses, was in a self-made captivity of sorts when God met him in the wilderness. Moses had sinned, failed God and his people. He had murdered a man and out of fear and conviction he ran. I wonder if, in a way, he was doing what Adam did in the Garden--run and hide. Unseen among the sheep in the Judean wilderness, he likely felt he was secluded. Until the One who sees all saw him and appeared to place a calling on him far beyond his imagination.
God does that you know. He calls the messed up, broken sinner to accomplish His purposes. He calls us with a divine calling to His glory and excellence, knowing FULL WELL our failures, mistakes, sins, and short-comings.
Why? Why bother? I really think it's like He told Moses, He desires to TEACH us what to say, write, do whatever so that we, the weak and broken, display His grace and goodness in a way that draws others to Him.
So what is He calling YOU to do? What is the assignment you feel unworthy to walk in? He finds us in the very wilderness where we're trying to hide and comes with a calling so He might teach us to display His goodness and grace for all to see and glorify our Father in Heaven.
"Go to Pharaoh that you may bring My people out of Egypt."
Daunting, impossible task for this has-been palace dweller turned shepherd. But God gives him a magnificent assurance. "I will be with you." God Himself was intending to go with Moses every step of the way. He is a Present God who never leaves or forsakes us. But this Truth wasn't enough for ole' Moses. He kept pressing the Lord. He kept looking at himself rather than looking at his God.
Don't we do this sometimes? Don't we spend more time navel gazing and working on the excuses of why we shouldn't and can't do the very thing God is saying: "Yep this task- this one is for you. I have done this more times than I care to remember. Always pondering if and how I can do something rather than just trusting the God Who knows me better than I know myself and calls me to a task in order to bring Him glory.
Moses tries to pre-think, something I am good at too.
"I am not eloquent (who said eloquence was required?)" Moses explains to the One who made his tongue. God reminds him of that very truth: "Yes, I know, I made you, remember?"
And then God tells Moses something that has been flashing in my mind these last couple weeks.
"Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak."(Exodus 4:12, ESV)
God did not intend to TELL Moses what to say to Pharaoh. He intended to TEACH Moses what to say. He intended to TEACH him how to lead and bring His people out of their captivity.
This is especially interesting because Moses, was in a self-made captivity of sorts when God met him in the wilderness. Moses had sinned, failed God and his people. He had murdered a man and out of fear and conviction he ran. I wonder if, in a way, he was doing what Adam did in the Garden--run and hide. Unseen among the sheep in the Judean wilderness, he likely felt he was secluded. Until the One who sees all saw him and appeared to place a calling on him far beyond his imagination.
God does that you know. He calls the messed up, broken sinner to accomplish His purposes. He calls us with a divine calling to His glory and excellence, knowing FULL WELL our failures, mistakes, sins, and short-comings.
Why? Why bother? I really think it's like He told Moses, He desires to TEACH us what to say, write, do whatever so that we, the weak and broken, display His grace and goodness in a way that draws others to Him.
So what is He calling YOU to do? What is the assignment you feel unworthy to walk in? He finds us in the very wilderness where we're trying to hide and comes with a calling so He might teach us to display His goodness and grace for all to see and glorify our Father in Heaven.
Saturday, September 14, 2019
run or fight
Just wanted to share a word of encouragement from my time in Psalm 78 this morning.
Whether you are going through major trials in this season, like illness or marital struggles, or if you are about to start another school year with your homeschooled children or sending your young adult child off to college for the first time, Psalm 78 has a word for us.
In verse 9 it says the Ephraimites armed with the bow, turned back on the day of battle.
They were well armed. They had their bows ready. Yet when the going got tough, they turned back. They turned away from the battle for which they were armed. This is what they were armed for!
Those of us in Christ are also armed for the battle. Ephesians 6 tells us to put on the full armor of God to be ready when the fiery darts of the enemy come for us. We have the armor we need, and yet, we often back down from using it in the very battles we face.
Those of us in Christ can put on the belt of Truth, the breast plate of righteousness, the shoes of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation with the sword of the Spirit in our hand. But then we have to apply it, use it, go with confidence into the battle ahead.
The hard battle is to keep our heart and mind on truth, making the God honoring choices, standing on truth when our feeling argue, being guarded with the faith that says I act as if God is telling the truth. We will remember truth and trust God over our own feeling and fears when we get the bad news or walk through the scary seasons or have to relinquish our child to what the Lord has for him.
So let's put on the armor and then go forth in this battle knowing He has seen us through trials before and will do so again for His great glory and good.
What is so interesting is that this verse is right here in the midst of this generational theme.
But after praying this through with the Lord, it makes perfect sense...passing on our faith to the next generation is certainly a huge battle. But it is not one that we have to lose. It is one that Jesus has won. He arms the next generation too! But we have to be faithful to tell them and to pray for them. As the battle rages before us in this media driven world and as our kids (and us!) are attacked from all angles, remember your armor! Stand firm, do not shrink back, you are armed. So will you run or fight?
Whether you are going through major trials in this season, like illness or marital struggles, or if you are about to start another school year with your homeschooled children or sending your young adult child off to college for the first time, Psalm 78 has a word for us.
In verse 9 it says the Ephraimites armed with the bow, turned back on the day of battle.
They were well armed. They had their bows ready. Yet when the going got tough, they turned back. They turned away from the battle for which they were armed. This is what they were armed for!
Those of us in Christ are also armed for the battle. Ephesians 6 tells us to put on the full armor of God to be ready when the fiery darts of the enemy come for us. We have the armor we need, and yet, we often back down from using it in the very battles we face.
Those of us in Christ can put on the belt of Truth, the breast plate of righteousness, the shoes of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation with the sword of the Spirit in our hand. But then we have to apply it, use it, go with confidence into the battle ahead.
The hard battle is to keep our heart and mind on truth, making the God honoring choices, standing on truth when our feeling argue, being guarded with the faith that says I act as if God is telling the truth. We will remember truth and trust God over our own feeling and fears when we get the bad news or walk through the scary seasons or have to relinquish our child to what the Lord has for him.
So let's put on the armor and then go forth in this battle knowing He has seen us through trials before and will do so again for His great glory and good.
What is so interesting is that this verse is right here in the midst of this generational theme.
But after praying this through with the Lord, it makes perfect sense...passing on our faith to the next generation is certainly a huge battle. But it is not one that we have to lose. It is one that Jesus has won. He arms the next generation too! But we have to be faithful to tell them and to pray for them. As the battle rages before us in this media driven world and as our kids (and us!) are attacked from all angles, remember your armor! Stand firm, do not shrink back, you are armed. So will you run or fight?
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
the next generation
I have spent some time in Psalm 78 lately.
This call to tell the next generations of God has been dancing on my heart lately. With all the swirling and evil and sin in this world, with the increasing depravity our children have to see and hear about all around them. Where is there any stability and hope? What can we possibly offer the next generation as they embark on their quest to take up the baton of faith?
Children are the future. Cliché maybe, but true. Not just the ones we have personally birthed or adopted. But the children of our siblings, our neighbors, in our churches. the next generation is our responsibility. All of them. For us of us in the faith to pour into.
Psalm 78 says,
This call to tell the next generations of God has been dancing on my heart lately. With all the swirling and evil and sin in this world, with the increasing depravity our children have to see and hear about all around them. Where is there any stability and hope? What can we possibly offer the next generation as they embark on their quest to take up the baton of faith?
Children are the future. Cliché maybe, but true. Not just the ones we have personally birthed or adopted. But the children of our siblings, our neighbors, in our churches. the next generation is our responsibility. All of them. For us of us in the faith to pour into.
Psalm 78 says,
"He [God] established a testimony in Jacob
and appointed a law in Israel,
which He commanded our fathers to teach to their children,
that the next generation might know them,
the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children,
so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God,
but keep His commandments;
that they should not be like their fathers,
a stubborn and rebellious generation,
a generation whose heart was not steadfast."
God gave His word, works and wonders for one generation to tell the next and the next SO THAT they would set their hope in God. So they would have a place to securely set their hope.
Then history doesn't repeat itself. Then revival comes. Then generations are marked by Christ, for Christ, and many are saved.
So as a generation how are we doing? Are we faithful to invest in the next generations? Or are we buried face deep into screens and selfish pursuits that we miss the very reason we are called to know His word, works and wonders? You and I are commanded to teach, tell and not forget! So who are you investing in this very week?
Sunday, August 11, 2019
left to himself
God left him to himself, in order to test him and to know all that was in his heart. (2 Chronicles 32.31, ESV)
Some of the scariest words in Scripture. Left him to himself. To himself.
What do we come to when we are left to ourselves? To our own wretched hearts. To our own decisions, our own strength, our own sinful lusts and desires. To ourselves.
Upon reading this, I instantly felt my heart leap with fear.
Oh God, I have seen glimpses of the wretchedness of being left to myself. To remedy my own insecurity, my own emptiness. I have seen past the veil of my own heart and it is a dark place, Lord. Never. Never leave me to myself, Lord. I am so very desperate to cling to You. I have no other hope. No good lives in me. Jesus alone.
Hezekiah was left to himself, not after a season of trial and sin, but rather in a season of healing and prosperity.
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pic by Lynn Clemson Fritzinger
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Oh how vulnerable we are when we think we've got this all figured out. Pride creeps out of our wicked hearts and begins to make itself known in a fresh way. Look what I have, what I accomplished....Me. Me. Me.
Hezekiah had been so blessed, so healed. But not one bit of it his own doing. But where did he point when the envoys of Babylon came sniffing around? To the One who heals? The Blesser and Giver of all good and perfect gifts? Weak in his natural man, like me, when given the opportunity to point to God and glorify Him, instead points to self.
God misses nothing.
He saw Hezekiah's motive and his response. He knew in advance what it would be. Oh and still our gracious God healed and blessed. Such grace.
So, God left him to himself, in order to test him and to know all that was in his heart. Not for God to know, He already did. But rather for Hezekiah to know.
The God of all grace, and mercy, and love comes, at times, to test our hearts, to prove us genuine. Not for His own knowledge. He has all knowledge and intimately knows the heart of man.
No, God tests hearts so we will know. So, we can see the sin we are capable of apart from Him.
Had He never left him to himself, would ole' Hez have ever come to repentance? Would he have ever come to know and trust God in the same way? Depend on Him so desperately? Not likely.
Why not?
We are so good at tricking ourselves, though often no one else is buying it. Tricking ourselves into thinking we've got this, and we believe our own hype. Before we know it then, we come to the point of believing ourselves to be indestructible. We would never admit it. But one day, before we know it and while we are still seeped in the word, our pride throws a shovel full of dirt over us. We realize we dug this hole ourselves, wearing the blindfold of our own pride, hiding us from the reality of our own sin.
But when our eyes are opened to the reality of who we are and the sin we are capable of, suddenly we recognize our desperate need for Him. Our daily desperate need for Him. It's grace, really.
Sweet grace that brings us back to our Savior. Sweet grace that pours out over us to wash clean the wretched sinner. Sweet grace that reminds me constantly to press into His side because without Him, I am at a complete loss and only steps away from another ditch.
Never leave me to myself, sweet Jesus, lead me only ever near to Your side.
God misses nothing.
He saw Hezekiah's motive and his response. He knew in advance what it would be. Oh and still our gracious God healed and blessed. Such grace.
So, God left him to himself, in order to test him and to know all that was in his heart. Not for God to know, He already did. But rather for Hezekiah to know.
The God of all grace, and mercy, and love comes, at times, to test our hearts, to prove us genuine. Not for His own knowledge. He has all knowledge and intimately knows the heart of man.
No, God tests hearts so we will know. So, we can see the sin we are capable of apart from Him.
Had He never left him to himself, would ole' Hez have ever come to repentance? Would he have ever come to know and trust God in the same way? Depend on Him so desperately? Not likely.
Why not?
We are so good at tricking ourselves, though often no one else is buying it. Tricking ourselves into thinking we've got this, and we believe our own hype. Before we know it then, we come to the point of believing ourselves to be indestructible. We would never admit it. But one day, before we know it and while we are still seeped in the word, our pride throws a shovel full of dirt over us. We realize we dug this hole ourselves, wearing the blindfold of our own pride, hiding us from the reality of our own sin.
But when our eyes are opened to the reality of who we are and the sin we are capable of, suddenly we recognize our desperate need for Him. Our daily desperate need for Him. It's grace, really.
Sweet grace that brings us back to our Savior. Sweet grace that pours out over us to wash clean the wretched sinner. Sweet grace that reminds me constantly to press into His side because without Him, I am at a complete loss and only steps away from another ditch.
Never leave me to myself, sweet Jesus, lead me only ever near to Your side.
Thursday, August 1, 2019
conversation with my heart
Above all else guard your heart. Proverbs 4:23
What is it you would say, dear heart? Weary and unstable heart. I will pour you a hot cup of creamy coffee and sit across from you as you watch the cream marry the steaming drink in the mug.
I think you would sit a long while before speaking, because you really are more introverted and quiet than the rest of me gives you credit for. You tend towards the deeper thoughts and slower responses, if only my mouth would fall in line behind you.
I would watch as you pensively look out the window, watching the sunlight caught on the leaves sway and dance. what are your thoughts, heart of mine? What do you fear? Oh, that is a locked door of darkness and deep unspoken fears and cries of "Please God, never."
What thoughts captivate you, dear heart? What do you have to say to me about where you are right now? Such a shaky battle ground lately. Nothing stable, steady or routine.
Dear heart, are you sad? Grieving still for the loss that came so suddenly. Grieving still over not enough time, not enough words spoken. The look in those blue eyes that I fear will one day fade. The last long hug where we both were standing side by side next to his chair as I said, "See you on the sand next time." In hopes of a vacation, the last one together that would actually not be. My arm around his middle, his arm over my shoulders in a squeeze. I love you, dad.
How I still grieve. and yet, I carry the weight of the pain that I see in the eyes of my loves who grieve too. How can a mother heart grieve alone? My two hearts grieve with me and the pain is intense at times. It comes like waves as I recall all the moments that made up the days from diagnosis to death. such few days. Such sudden days. Yet days that help hope that was unrealized.
Dear heart, when will you heal? How can you heal?
Time. Time does soften but it also fades the memories like the colors on a polaroid. Oh I don't want the colors to fade. But how else will the pain fade? I miss him. Those words are too small to hold the intensity of emotion that is within them.
Meanwhile I still carry the loss of familiarity and sameness. It was buried in the memories of that old house, those familiar roads, the voices and rhythms of that town. There is a sense of grief in that loss too. Memories that were all too quickly buried under the rubble of the most recent eruption. But memories that held such tenderness and sameness.
This heart carries not only the instability of the year for its own weight and pain and grief but it carries the weight of my two other hearts. Every emotion, fear, sadness, grief and instability they feel weighs on my own shoulders and burdens my own muscles with knots and twinges. How do I unload this, Lord? Where do I place this burden? How do I get to your feet from here? Don't you see all the burdens that weigh me down and keep me from being still? I fear being crushed if I am still too long, but then I fear being ripped apart if I don't sit for a spell and just soak in the air up here.
Help me meet with you, el Shaddai, until I begin to lose this weight. until my heart begins to feel again. Let this emotion lighten as I sit and pour out to you. you alone hold my hearts and carry those boys ahead into their futures. Be so big to them Lord and mend them where they are hurting and fill them where they lack as only you can. Then come and sit and fill me too. Mend me too. Draw me ever nearer to your precious bleeding side.
What is it you would say, dear heart? Weary and unstable heart. I will pour you a hot cup of creamy coffee and sit across from you as you watch the cream marry the steaming drink in the mug.
I think you would sit a long while before speaking, because you really are more introverted and quiet than the rest of me gives you credit for. You tend towards the deeper thoughts and slower responses, if only my mouth would fall in line behind you.
I would watch as you pensively look out the window, watching the sunlight caught on the leaves sway and dance. what are your thoughts, heart of mine? What do you fear? Oh, that is a locked door of darkness and deep unspoken fears and cries of "Please God, never."
What thoughts captivate you, dear heart? What do you have to say to me about where you are right now? Such a shaky battle ground lately. Nothing stable, steady or routine.
Dear heart, are you sad? Grieving still for the loss that came so suddenly. Grieving still over not enough time, not enough words spoken. The look in those blue eyes that I fear will one day fade. The last long hug where we both were standing side by side next to his chair as I said, "See you on the sand next time." In hopes of a vacation, the last one together that would actually not be. My arm around his middle, his arm over my shoulders in a squeeze. I love you, dad.
How I still grieve. and yet, I carry the weight of the pain that I see in the eyes of my loves who grieve too. How can a mother heart grieve alone? My two hearts grieve with me and the pain is intense at times. It comes like waves as I recall all the moments that made up the days from diagnosis to death. such few days. Such sudden days. Yet days that help hope that was unrealized.
Dear heart, when will you heal? How can you heal?
Time. Time does soften but it also fades the memories like the colors on a polaroid. Oh I don't want the colors to fade. But how else will the pain fade? I miss him. Those words are too small to hold the intensity of emotion that is within them.
Meanwhile I still carry the loss of familiarity and sameness. It was buried in the memories of that old house, those familiar roads, the voices and rhythms of that town. There is a sense of grief in that loss too. Memories that were all too quickly buried under the rubble of the most recent eruption. But memories that held such tenderness and sameness.
This heart carries not only the instability of the year for its own weight and pain and grief but it carries the weight of my two other hearts. Every emotion, fear, sadness, grief and instability they feel weighs on my own shoulders and burdens my own muscles with knots and twinges. How do I unload this, Lord? Where do I place this burden? How do I get to your feet from here? Don't you see all the burdens that weigh me down and keep me from being still? I fear being crushed if I am still too long, but then I fear being ripped apart if I don't sit for a spell and just soak in the air up here.
Help me meet with you, el Shaddai, until I begin to lose this weight. until my heart begins to feel again. Let this emotion lighten as I sit and pour out to you. you alone hold my hearts and carry those boys ahead into their futures. Be so big to them Lord and mend them where they are hurting and fill them where they lack as only you can. Then come and sit and fill me too. Mend me too. Draw me ever nearer to your precious bleeding side.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
why the secret heart
"Write," He whispered to my heart.
Lord, after all these years?
Nearly five years of silence...the rebellion, the running, the retreating.
So many places I have failed, so many things I have run from and numbed. I released all You gave me....at first, possibly for the best things You gave me, thinking it was at Your leading. Was it?
Possibly...out of fear of more being demanded on me even further, being in over my head and realizing my own limitations. Failing to rest in You. Maybe I did exactly as You led me to...maybe I didn't. Either way, the path grew darker, thicker, deeper than I ever imagined. And still I kept walking, never pausing to seek Your direction, thinking at that point I had seen the map I knew the directions by heart...then I realized one day I no longer even cared....
"Write" came the whisper.
But I no longer cared. I walked so far down into the darkness. Others will never think I am qualified. I failed.
"Were you ever 'qualified'? Who does the qualifying?"
hmm...
oh what pride... to think that at any point I had been qualified, prepared, able....never was. Truth began to stir in a place long quieted. A small rustling...
Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your steadfast love; according to Your abundant mercy, blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! (Psalm 51:1-2)
O God, when You come to cleanse, You do it with thoroughness....You reach into every long forgotten space where grace has been cluttered out, where cobwebs have accumulated. Every place ignored and pushed to the recesses, hoping to be forgotten. But they aren't. They become places where we are uncovered. Places of weakness. Places of vulnerability before the enemy. Places of torture. Until I just cry out from under the dark place...
For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against You and You only have I sinned and done what is so evil in Your sight. (v 3-4)
Your pure eyes saw my sin, yet all the more do Your eyes continually see the wickedness planted in my heart already. You miss nothing. Why do I think You would miss my heart, my motives, my jealousy, my fear, my anxieties....You don't miss a single thing. Not only do You not miss a thing, You are willing to use everything. Every place of pain can be a place of healing. Every place of failure, a compassion. Every darkness, a place of intimacy.
"Trust Me and write"
It's how You made me...to put words to paper. To appreciate the written word. To meditate not on sounds and sights as much as on words. You captured my heart, this wretched heart, with Your very Word. Oh grace. Such grace.
It is who I am and where I can find You...in the Word, in the words. Sorting through the clutter of words, I find Truth, grace and intimacy with the One who called to walk on this sea of words with Him.
Behold, You delight in truth in the inward being, and You teach me wisdom in the secret heart. (v 6)
The Secret Heart.
The place no one sees or even understands, if they could see. The place where the wrestling happens.
The place where seeds sink into the dirt and are soaked, swollen and bring life from their death. The dark heart. The secret place. Underground. Private whisperings between You and me.
Right there, You delight in truth. You teach me wisdom.
So here. The secret heart. I will obey. I will write, Lord, and delight in truth here as You teach me wisdom. Your wisdom. Your good, delightful path back into the sunlight.
Lord, after all these years?
Nearly five years of silence...the rebellion, the running, the retreating.
So many places I have failed, so many things I have run from and numbed. I released all You gave me....at first, possibly for the best things You gave me, thinking it was at Your leading. Was it?
Possibly...out of fear of more being demanded on me even further, being in over my head and realizing my own limitations. Failing to rest in You. Maybe I did exactly as You led me to...maybe I didn't. Either way, the path grew darker, thicker, deeper than I ever imagined. And still I kept walking, never pausing to seek Your direction, thinking at that point I had seen the map I knew the directions by heart...then I realized one day I no longer even cared....
"Write" came the whisper.
But I no longer cared. I walked so far down into the darkness. Others will never think I am qualified. I failed.
"Were you ever 'qualified'? Who does the qualifying?"
hmm...
oh what pride... to think that at any point I had been qualified, prepared, able....never was. Truth began to stir in a place long quieted. A small rustling...
Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your steadfast love; according to Your abundant mercy, blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! (Psalm 51:1-2)
O God, when You come to cleanse, You do it with thoroughness....You reach into every long forgotten space where grace has been cluttered out, where cobwebs have accumulated. Every place ignored and pushed to the recesses, hoping to be forgotten. But they aren't. They become places where we are uncovered. Places of weakness. Places of vulnerability before the enemy. Places of torture. Until I just cry out from under the dark place...
For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against You and You only have I sinned and done what is so evil in Your sight. (v 3-4)
Your pure eyes saw my sin, yet all the more do Your eyes continually see the wickedness planted in my heart already. You miss nothing. Why do I think You would miss my heart, my motives, my jealousy, my fear, my anxieties....You don't miss a single thing. Not only do You not miss a thing, You are willing to use everything. Every place of pain can be a place of healing. Every place of failure, a compassion. Every darkness, a place of intimacy.
"Trust Me and write"
It's how You made me...to put words to paper. To appreciate the written word. To meditate not on sounds and sights as much as on words. You captured my heart, this wretched heart, with Your very Word. Oh grace. Such grace.
It is who I am and where I can find You...in the Word, in the words. Sorting through the clutter of words, I find Truth, grace and intimacy with the One who called to walk on this sea of words with Him.
Behold, You delight in truth in the inward being, and You teach me wisdom in the secret heart. (v 6)
The Secret Heart.
The place no one sees or even understands, if they could see. The place where the wrestling happens.
The place where seeds sink into the dirt and are soaked, swollen and bring life from their death. The dark heart. The secret place. Underground. Private whisperings between You and me.
Right there, You delight in truth. You teach me wisdom.
So here. The secret heart. I will obey. I will write, Lord, and delight in truth here as You teach me wisdom. Your wisdom. Your good, delightful path back into the sunlight.
Friday, July 19, 2019
a willing spirit
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors Your ways and sinners will return to You. (Psalm 51:12-13)
When the want-to returns, the trembling comes with it.
I know the call well. I loved it so. But now...
A bit harder to walk forward as bold- as prideful- now that I know how very far one can fall. How very far I can fall. But Your call is irrevocable. Isn't it?
So the call remains.
The gifting is the same.
When You restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me with a fresh want-to, then I teach transgressors, like me, Your ways. Not because I walk so well in them. On the contrary. Because I know how very near the ditch can be and how very slick it's edge is.
HEY, COME AWAY FROM THERE! LOOK! THAT'S A DITCH!
That's it...just pointing out where the ditch is and how to keep from it.
Same thing I, myself, am learning, even still. Oh, even still.
Sacrificing to You my broken spirit, my broken and contrite heart. I have nothing to offer but that Lord. A messed up want-to, a broken sinful heart, neediness, insecurity, emptiness...but You are the Filler. The One who comes to fully fill every place. To change the want-to. To restore the joy. To make a spirit willing again.
You make the weak offering, the broken heart and the messed up want-to into a beautiful offering, a valuable sacrifice and a useful tool in the hands of the Master.
The gifting didn't change, the call hasn't been revoked, so is the servant heart willing?
Uphold me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors Your ways and sinners will return to You. (Psalm 51:12-13)
When the want-to returns, the trembling comes with it.
I know the call well. I loved it so. But now...
A bit harder to walk forward as bold- as prideful- now that I know how very far one can fall. How very far I can fall. But Your call is irrevocable. Isn't it?
So the call remains.
The gifting is the same.
When You restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me with a fresh want-to, then I teach transgressors, like me, Your ways. Not because I walk so well in them. On the contrary. Because I know how very near the ditch can be and how very slick it's edge is.
HEY, COME AWAY FROM THERE! LOOK! THAT'S A DITCH!
That's it...just pointing out where the ditch is and how to keep from it.
Same thing I, myself, am learning, even still. Oh, even still.
Sacrificing to You my broken spirit, my broken and contrite heart. I have nothing to offer but that Lord. A messed up want-to, a broken sinful heart, neediness, insecurity, emptiness...but You are the Filler. The One who comes to fully fill every place. To change the want-to. To restore the joy. To make a spirit willing again.
You make the weak offering, the broken heart and the messed up want-to into a beautiful offering, a valuable sacrifice and a useful tool in the hands of the Master.
The gifting didn't change, the call hasn't been revoked, so is the servant heart willing?
Uphold me with a willing spirit.
Tuesday, June 18, 2019
a lament
Oh Lord, such a hard year
so battle weary
we are weak and bloody
but here
we are barely able to stand
or even to see through the fog
the pain still comes in waves
and the sadness wedges deep
none were left unaffected
it's hard to help them
when my own flesh fails me
drowning in tears
exhausted and frail
but You are able
Your strength can fill
Your hand can steady
Your Word does still heal and restore
Come O LORD and do what You do
strengthen the weak
knit hearts back together
and make victors out of the worn
for Your great glory
and for our good
in Jesus mighty name.
so battle weary
we are weak and bloody
but here
we are barely able to stand
or even to see through the fog
the pain still comes in waves
and the sadness wedges deep
none were left unaffected
it's hard to help them
when my own flesh fails me
drowning in tears
exhausted and frail
but You are able
Your strength can fill
Your hand can steady
Your Word does still heal and restore
Come O LORD and do what You do
strengthen the weak
knit hearts back together
and make victors out of the worn
for Your great glory
and for our good
in Jesus mighty name.
Friday, May 24, 2019
fear of the broom
Though sound asleep and snoring, when I reach for the broom and dust pan, my dog goes into full-on dread mode. She paces the house and continually comes to watch me sweep with fear in her eyes.
Now, she has never been hit or harmed in any way by the broom and dustpan, yet she fears them as if she had. She fixates on the broom and dustpan the whole time they are out. I could be sweeping in one room and she be sleeping in another, yet she comes trotting over to get a good look at the object of her fear and never lets it out of her sight until it is well stored away behind The Door.
Tauntings that engulf us at times. Their realness is nearly irrelevant.
Most of what I fear has never happened. And yet, creeping into my thoughts in the dark of the night, I fixate on them like my dog with a broom.
Irrational fears. What is she really even scared of? What am I really even scared of?
What if the worst did happen? Would my God not be faithful? Would my God not come through and protect my heart and make all things work for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose?
Scary things DO happen to believers, God's own people.
Bold missionaries do go to jails and are tortured for their faith. Faithful believer's do walk through painful divorces and betrayals. Pediatric wards do house very sick believing children and terrified parents who love Jesus.
So where is our security? In this shaky world where things CAN turn out "badly" in our estimation. The broom COULD fall and hit us in the head.
The psalmist can relate. You have kept count of my tossings, put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? Then my enemies will turn back in the day that I call. This I know, that God is for me. (Psalm 56:8-9)
Do I know that? He is for me. My God is FOR me.
That is what my dog isn't getting...I am the one in control of the broom. I love her and would never hurt her with the broom. And even if the broom slid off the wall where I propped it and hit her in the head, I would come to rub it and make her feel better and probably give her a treat.
In a MUCH greater way, my God is for me. He controls all things. He is over every detail and He will not allow one thing to happen to me that is in vain. Unlike my not being able to keep the broom from accidentally slipping, God does control every detail. So if He allows it, then it MUST be something He intends to use for His glory and my good.
So with boldness, like the psalmist, I can proclaim in God I trust, I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me? (v 11)
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
dad
grief. the small awkward word seems so inadequate to contain the emotions of loss.
it is defined this way, Grief is a multifaceted response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or something that has died, to which a bond or affection was formed. Although conventionally focused on the emotional response to loss, it also has physical, cognitive, behavioral, social, and philosophical dimensions.
that is certainly an understatement. certainly multifaceted. the loss of something to which a bond or affection was formed. hmm. indeed.
it is an odd thing to lose the same person twice. especially when that person is a parent. grieving twice in one lifetime for a parent seems harsh and painful but it also seems to confirm the bond and affection that was well formed.
as a six year old little girl, i remember vividly the day my dad left. he cupped my young chin in his large hands and promised me i would be ok. i remember riding for the first time to his new apartment. a residence i would not share with him. my little dress neatly situated across my lap and my younger brother riding along in the back seat. i had no way of knowing that just a couple years later the moving van would pull up to my house and take all my belongings to another state, without my input. i would then grow from a little girl to an adolescent and a young woman several states away from my dad, without contact to him for nearly 10 years.
i would often lay in bed at night during those growing years and mouth the word "dad". wondering what it would be like to call someone i love by that term. it seemed foreign. i wondered what the man i once called that was actually doing. where was he? did he think about me? about my little brother? about our mom? and if i were to get married one day, who would give me away at that wedding alter? living in a home with a step dad who didn't want the badge of honor of being called "dad" nor did he deserve it, led me to fantasize often the older i got about the man who did once hold that honor proudly.
one sweet day, that now seems like a lifetime ago, i did get to see my dad again. amusement park fun, too much sugar and an over-sized stuffed animal later and he was gone. returned to his real life as i climbed back in the car with my family to return to ours. the following 2 years were spent on emotional roller coasters without the fun, sugar or stuffed animals as my step dad and mom began to unravel the scarf of their tightly bound baggage. to my great joy but incredible uncertainty, my mom's husband stepped out of our lives as quickly as he had stepped in. nearly 10 years of my young life wound into memories with a man i never liked. but i gladly shut that door.
my fears came as i packed up and headed 2 hours away to college, leaving my mother and brother to find their way on this new path without me. facing my own insecurities and fears and roller coasters as i stepped out of childhood into adulthood was more than enough for my immature broken mind. i sought security in anything i could find, anyone i could hold to. i felt so alone and so very far from home in every way possible.
often god is working things behind the scenes of our lives that would blow our minds if we could take a peek. how do i know this? because when we finally see the glimpse of it, we are in awe. how did it ever work out this way? i never in 1000 years would have dreamed this to be the outcome. i have said it and thought it no less than 1000 times.
on one side of the state i am settling into this lonely, foggy, and confusing life in a college dorm. while my dad is packing his own belongings and moving to my state, to see my mom, my brother and i. leaving the life he never wanted for the life he wished he had fought for.
part two of their love story began as my dad began to court my mom like a couple of teenagers, with their teenage children witnessing. a cabin in the mountains and much forgiveness spoken. gratitude overwhelmed the grief of that first loss in my heart. he was back and that felt like a complicated gift. how did it ever work out this way?
he moved in, taking his rightful place again as dad and husband. he screened the boys i brought in from college. he laid rules for my brother at home. he began to fight the good fight, the fight for us not against us. we all wrestled out this new life, these new unknown paths. but for the first time we did it together.
my wedding day came, my dad at my side. he gave me away to the man he approved of. he kissed my cheek as the pastor asked "who gives this woman to this man?" his tender response, " her mother and i do." oh how many years had i waited and hoped to hear that man say those words.
how did it ever work out this way?
embracing his role as dad, he taught my man more how-to projects than bob villa knows. he doted on his grandbabies as they arrived. he was instantly taken by every little milestone of their young lives. he graciously received every one of the 500 shirts we have him as gifts as if it was better than the last. what do you buy a dad anyway?
the lord had mercy and rolled away the stone that had settled in his heart over the years, uniting him further to my mother, myself and our family.
grandparenting looked good on him. santa 4 you at christmas and santa for them all year. sleepovers for grandchildren and extra money for no reason. he played the part as if he was designed for it, so well.
the love story continued as they took a leap, packing up a home, selling a house and taking off out west. camping, traveling and adventure. living out the dream they never in 1000 years thought they would. soaking in the sights, songs and memories. his happiest joys and the sweetest treasures were nestled into those years, no doubt. postcards and phone calls. they were well missed, but cheered on. how did it ever work out this way?
the years came to a rolling stop as they drifted from that season to the next. selling the rv and moving back near by. catching up where they had left off. grandparenting again became the name of the game. my dad took on the mantle of driver as he whisked my boys to and from classes, each for a full school year. enjoying every minute. eating lunches together. overpaying them for junk food treat purchases and building memories that cannot be erased. solid memories constructed as i got spoiled by late mornings knowing my boys were in great hands. such a treasure. such a treasure to know his joy was in those thursday mornings. he certainly loved well. and he was certainly loved well.
nothing could have prepared us for the following year.
the 2nd semester of driving the youngest to classes came to a close and the firstborn graduated high school. no sooner was the tassel turned than that the plane flew him off to his second trip to haiti, as our home of 12 years and all of its memories were packed up and loaded onto 2 large moving vans. the job was set, the new place found and we closed the door on a well loved home for the last time.
leaving mom and dad felt temporary. we won't be too far away, and soon they would follow. but man can make plans but god is the one who orders our steps. the end of summer came with a sweet birthday celebration and the sun set on a beautiful season none of us were ready to part with.
the diagnosis came, not as the blow i thought it would, but i did have to sit down. we made haste to sit by his side in that hospital room. not knowing what would come, assuming the worst hoping for the best, in that room and back in our new town as a storm raged closer and closer to the home we had just unpacked. we ran from one storm right into another. we sat in a holding pattern watching his face each day and the news each night. what would be the outcome of these, the greatest storms we had ever dreamed of. how did it ever work out this way?
the false sense of security that followed as we so gratefully brought him home and went home to a house that was mostly intact, it had an odd way of drawing attention to the distance. the scars in the town were obvious and sad. the effects of the storm left things displaced and not the same as they were. the scars on my dad began to come to the surface as the effects of chemo began to have their way. we tried to remember normal. we tried to replay normal. i think in a lot of ways the year had caused us to forget normal and even how to get back to it. it seemed illusive.
we made hopeful plans. tentative plans. still forgetting that man makes the plans but god orders the steps.
the call came. bags were packed before thoughts ran clearly. driving to his bedside. holding his large hand and seeing the light dance in his blue eyes when i came in the room. so grateful for the familiarity he had become in my life. the bonding moments. hi daddy, speaking the words like the little girl i became around him. hi baby, the usual, familiar response. as we left the ER that day, he winked to me and blew a kiss as i blew one back and closed the curtain behind me. this storm was moving in fast.
calls were placed, reconciliation made. forgiveness given. many presents in the present. we each held his hands in turn as we cried tears of loss and gratitude. having known and loved a man who was bigger than life. how did it ever work out this way?
3 days. to say goodbye to a life well lived. much life lived in 68 years, 109 days. many live more years but much less life. why are you crying, baby? i will miss you, dad. patting my knee with his large hand and you will be ok, as you will be there soon too.
now he waits by the door for his bride. and i know i will again see the great man i called dad. blue eyes shining.
till then the grief comes. like the waves of the shore, some strong, some gentle.
words flood my mind as memories spill over into tears and i continue trying to find normal.
it is defined this way, Grief is a multifaceted response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or something that has died, to which a bond or affection was formed. Although conventionally focused on the emotional response to loss, it also has physical, cognitive, behavioral, social, and philosophical dimensions.
that is certainly an understatement. certainly multifaceted. the loss of something to which a bond or affection was formed. hmm. indeed.
it is an odd thing to lose the same person twice. especially when that person is a parent. grieving twice in one lifetime for a parent seems harsh and painful but it also seems to confirm the bond and affection that was well formed.
as a six year old little girl, i remember vividly the day my dad left. he cupped my young chin in his large hands and promised me i would be ok. i remember riding for the first time to his new apartment. a residence i would not share with him. my little dress neatly situated across my lap and my younger brother riding along in the back seat. i had no way of knowing that just a couple years later the moving van would pull up to my house and take all my belongings to another state, without my input. i would then grow from a little girl to an adolescent and a young woman several states away from my dad, without contact to him for nearly 10 years.
i would often lay in bed at night during those growing years and mouth the word "dad". wondering what it would be like to call someone i love by that term. it seemed foreign. i wondered what the man i once called that was actually doing. where was he? did he think about me? about my little brother? about our mom? and if i were to get married one day, who would give me away at that wedding alter? living in a home with a step dad who didn't want the badge of honor of being called "dad" nor did he deserve it, led me to fantasize often the older i got about the man who did once hold that honor proudly.
one sweet day, that now seems like a lifetime ago, i did get to see my dad again. amusement park fun, too much sugar and an over-sized stuffed animal later and he was gone. returned to his real life as i climbed back in the car with my family to return to ours. the following 2 years were spent on emotional roller coasters without the fun, sugar or stuffed animals as my step dad and mom began to unravel the scarf of their tightly bound baggage. to my great joy but incredible uncertainty, my mom's husband stepped out of our lives as quickly as he had stepped in. nearly 10 years of my young life wound into memories with a man i never liked. but i gladly shut that door.
my fears came as i packed up and headed 2 hours away to college, leaving my mother and brother to find their way on this new path without me. facing my own insecurities and fears and roller coasters as i stepped out of childhood into adulthood was more than enough for my immature broken mind. i sought security in anything i could find, anyone i could hold to. i felt so alone and so very far from home in every way possible.
often god is working things behind the scenes of our lives that would blow our minds if we could take a peek. how do i know this? because when we finally see the glimpse of it, we are in awe. how did it ever work out this way? i never in 1000 years would have dreamed this to be the outcome. i have said it and thought it no less than 1000 times.
on one side of the state i am settling into this lonely, foggy, and confusing life in a college dorm. while my dad is packing his own belongings and moving to my state, to see my mom, my brother and i. leaving the life he never wanted for the life he wished he had fought for.
part two of their love story began as my dad began to court my mom like a couple of teenagers, with their teenage children witnessing. a cabin in the mountains and much forgiveness spoken. gratitude overwhelmed the grief of that first loss in my heart. he was back and that felt like a complicated gift. how did it ever work out this way?
he moved in, taking his rightful place again as dad and husband. he screened the boys i brought in from college. he laid rules for my brother at home. he began to fight the good fight, the fight for us not against us. we all wrestled out this new life, these new unknown paths. but for the first time we did it together.
my wedding day came, my dad at my side. he gave me away to the man he approved of. he kissed my cheek as the pastor asked "who gives this woman to this man?" his tender response, " her mother and i do." oh how many years had i waited and hoped to hear that man say those words.
how did it ever work out this way?
embracing his role as dad, he taught my man more how-to projects than bob villa knows. he doted on his grandbabies as they arrived. he was instantly taken by every little milestone of their young lives. he graciously received every one of the 500 shirts we have him as gifts as if it was better than the last. what do you buy a dad anyway?
the lord had mercy and rolled away the stone that had settled in his heart over the years, uniting him further to my mother, myself and our family.
grandparenting looked good on him. santa 4 you at christmas and santa for them all year. sleepovers for grandchildren and extra money for no reason. he played the part as if he was designed for it, so well.
the love story continued as they took a leap, packing up a home, selling a house and taking off out west. camping, traveling and adventure. living out the dream they never in 1000 years thought they would. soaking in the sights, songs and memories. his happiest joys and the sweetest treasures were nestled into those years, no doubt. postcards and phone calls. they were well missed, but cheered on. how did it ever work out this way?
the years came to a rolling stop as they drifted from that season to the next. selling the rv and moving back near by. catching up where they had left off. grandparenting again became the name of the game. my dad took on the mantle of driver as he whisked my boys to and from classes, each for a full school year. enjoying every minute. eating lunches together. overpaying them for junk food treat purchases and building memories that cannot be erased. solid memories constructed as i got spoiled by late mornings knowing my boys were in great hands. such a treasure. such a treasure to know his joy was in those thursday mornings. he certainly loved well. and he was certainly loved well.
nothing could have prepared us for the following year.
the 2nd semester of driving the youngest to classes came to a close and the firstborn graduated high school. no sooner was the tassel turned than that the plane flew him off to his second trip to haiti, as our home of 12 years and all of its memories were packed up and loaded onto 2 large moving vans. the job was set, the new place found and we closed the door on a well loved home for the last time.
leaving mom and dad felt temporary. we won't be too far away, and soon they would follow. but man can make plans but god is the one who orders our steps. the end of summer came with a sweet birthday celebration and the sun set on a beautiful season none of us were ready to part with.
the diagnosis came, not as the blow i thought it would, but i did have to sit down. we made haste to sit by his side in that hospital room. not knowing what would come, assuming the worst hoping for the best, in that room and back in our new town as a storm raged closer and closer to the home we had just unpacked. we ran from one storm right into another. we sat in a holding pattern watching his face each day and the news each night. what would be the outcome of these, the greatest storms we had ever dreamed of. how did it ever work out this way?
the false sense of security that followed as we so gratefully brought him home and went home to a house that was mostly intact, it had an odd way of drawing attention to the distance. the scars in the town were obvious and sad. the effects of the storm left things displaced and not the same as they were. the scars on my dad began to come to the surface as the effects of chemo began to have their way. we tried to remember normal. we tried to replay normal. i think in a lot of ways the year had caused us to forget normal and even how to get back to it. it seemed illusive.
we made hopeful plans. tentative plans. still forgetting that man makes the plans but god orders the steps.
the call came. bags were packed before thoughts ran clearly. driving to his bedside. holding his large hand and seeing the light dance in his blue eyes when i came in the room. so grateful for the familiarity he had become in my life. the bonding moments. hi daddy, speaking the words like the little girl i became around him. hi baby, the usual, familiar response. as we left the ER that day, he winked to me and blew a kiss as i blew one back and closed the curtain behind me. this storm was moving in fast.
calls were placed, reconciliation made. forgiveness given. many presents in the present. we each held his hands in turn as we cried tears of loss and gratitude. having known and loved a man who was bigger than life. how did it ever work out this way?
3 days. to say goodbye to a life well lived. much life lived in 68 years, 109 days. many live more years but much less life. why are you crying, baby? i will miss you, dad. patting my knee with his large hand and you will be ok, as you will be there soon too.
now he waits by the door for his bride. and i know i will again see the great man i called dad. blue eyes shining.
till then the grief comes. like the waves of the shore, some strong, some gentle.
words flood my mind as memories spill over into tears and i continue trying to find normal.
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