Longing

It rises up from deep in my soul.  The sensation is difficult to describe, and I need it to have a name.  Somehow that will make it seem safe and predictable, possibly evencontrollable.  It is pressure that builds and needs a release like a cry that can only be satisfied by an answering calm, a gentling of the urgency; a whispered word, saying “Peace, be still child; how very close I am to you.” 

It is birthed in quiet moments of meditation and worship where time ceases to exist, as I have Your undivided attention.  My voice and Your Spirit mix and intertwine in the Heavenlies bringing delight to Your heart and setting into motion things I could never comprehend.  It is so beautiful, yet not safe and certainly not predictable – uncontrollable. This feeling surges up as I fall to my knees in awe of all that You are knowing that the small bit I do know of You is almost more than I can bear.  Knowing there is more, that You are richer and more brilliant than my most vivid dreams frightens me because that too is not safe or predictable and cannot be contained.  No – it is holy, a consuming fire, pure, wild, and more fierce and passionate than I can handle on my own.

It swells up when my fingers finally release their death grip on what I knew all along I could never control yet almost died in trying.  I hear it in the sound of chains falling and walls crumbling as another stronghold tumbles to the ground; the scent of victory overcoming the stench of defeat.  The feeling comes as a wave, a pounding of the heart as Your anointing falls when obedience calls and is answered with, “Yes Lord, here I am.” 

It is there when the howling loneliness shouts for filling and claws in desperation until Your presence is given permission and enfolds and permeates the void.  I sense it when joy unspeakable and peace that passes all understanding snaps like a banner in the wind, high above the circumstances and distractions of life proclaiming that Jehovah Nissi is my covering and victory.

Waiting in Your presence I begin to understand the sensation is a soul-deep desire for You – a needy emptiness that can only be filled by all that You are. It is the craving my spirit knows will only be satisfied when I am forever in Your presence; an obsession keeping me hungry and thirsty for revelation, wisdom, truth, and a startling intimacy found only with You. This isn’t safe or predictable and certainly not controllable but will be with me until I see You face to face.

So, I will let go and embrace the wildness and fierceness of it.  I will welcome it with open arms and a tender heart.  I will name it longing.

The Beach

The brisk wind snaps and fluffs the tendrils of auburn hair peeking out from under her olive-green beanie. It feels so invigorating, as if the wind is beckoning her to come out and walk the beach. Perhaps it knows something feels different this morning, like that feeling when an elusive word is on the tip of your tongue, but your brain won’t quite let it go.

This beach is Misty’s favorite place. It has been since she discovered it several years ago, quite by accident, actually. After spending time with friends in Santa Cruz before one of them headed to a new job in Texas, Misty decided to take a little detour on her way home, just to see what she might see.  Rounding a curve, there it was laid out before her in all its glory! A lovely beach cove, set off the road with a sandy little parking lot to accommodate visitors.

Misty pulled off, parked her yellow VW Bug and that was it – she was in love with this beach and knew it was her place.

Lately, life has been hard and confusing, complicated, and draining. The life path she dreamed of following is not panning out and it weighs heavily on her heart. Patience is not her bent and the desire to move things along is a constant battle in her weary mind. Shouldn’t she be there by now? Why wasn’t she finding her niche?

Full of hope for a day of clearing her mind, she steps onto the sand into the wind and salty smell of the sea. Deep cleansing breaths, she tells herself. Deep, long and cleansing.  The vibrancy of the water holds an anticipation in the micro sparkles she sees dancing on the swell of each wave.  Heeding the call, she gingerly hops into the foamy sea and catches her breath at the cold, crisp tingle on her bare feet. The dramatic inhale of breath feels lovely and empowering. It feels comforting. Some of the fear and worry escape on the exhale. Is that a lightness in her soul?

“What do I do now?”, she asks the sea, willing it to part with its ancient wisdom.

Walking along the wet sand, she alternately runs toward and dodges the ever-coming waves. For the first time in a while, she is having fun!

Up ahead she sees something in the sand just out of reach of the waves. How odd, she thinks. What is it? It appears to be a small pile of driftwood. Ever curious, Misty investigates and discovers someone has spelled the word JOY with the driftwood. It is gnarled and holey with striations of dark and light in the sea-soaked wood. Pausing to look at the driftwood she feels what might be joy.  Her mouth relaxes into a gentle smile, which if she is honest with herself has not happened in a while. Well, not a genuine smile. Hmmm. Joy. Yes, she does feel it. It’s been simmering there just below the surface blocked by worry, fear and feeling left behind while others are off making their mark.  Feeling like she doesn’t measure up.

As Misty continues down the beach soaking in the joy, letting it do its thing, she detects a lightness in her step and her shoulders relaxing. The sweet sun pours warmth into her bones, yet not the overwhelming heat that makes one want to run for the shade. Stopping to scan the sea and the sand behind her, she sees her footprints. They look purposeful and confident, like these prints have a destination in mind and are confidently heading there. The sea is edging closer to her footprints and will soon wash them away as if they never existed. The past being taken and what is before her opening wide.

There are not many beachcombers out this morning. Mid-week keeps the crowds away and Misty likes that. Up ahead, she hears barking and yipping from a sleek, brindle dog dancing with delight over the stick about to be tossed into the shallow waves.  Being a dog lover, Misty briskly walks toward the middle-aged woman tossing the stick. She notices black yoga pants pushed up near the woman’s knees to keep from getting soaked, a camo-colored hoodie with rolled up sleeves and short, fluffed light brown hair that dances and tosses in the crisp sea-wind.

Smiling as she approaches, the woman waves, calls out a greeting and tosses the stick high at the same time. As the wet dog returns with the stick, the woman reaches down to stroke its sleek body and gets a sandy, toothy grin. He wants her to hurry and throw the stick again. “He will do this all day, you know,” the woman laughs. “This is our happy place where we escape to refill our souls.”

As they exchange small talk and watch the escapades of the dog, Misty notices the woman has tattoos on her arms. One says Be Still and another Faith over Fear. She is surprised how these simple words tattooed on a stranger fill her with such emotion – this is what her tired heart and dry soul need. How she longs to just be still and let go of the fear that cripples her; fear of the unknown, that she isn’t making a difference and the constant striving that saps her energy.

Shyly, she asks the woman, “May I ask about your tattoos? This sounds weird, I know, but I am drawn to them. I think they’re speaking to me.”

“Of course!”, the woman replies. “These tattoos hold special meaning for me. I’ve been through some rough patches; things I thought would break and destroy me. These words remind me of all I have weathered – mantras the Creator spoke to my soul. They mean so much I had them etched in a place I could revisit anytime, anywhere.”

As the silence spins out the woman turns to look at her; her forest-green eyes compassionate and knowing, holding her gaze for a moment. “I don’t know what’s weighing on you, honey, but I believe everything happens for a reason and we all have a specific purpose on Earth. Sometimes to find it, we simply need to be still and let it come to us. Joy will come if you make room and give it permission.”

As the woman speaks, Misty feels peace flow over her back and neck. She has a more confident tilt to her chin and senses a shift in the atmosphere as she embraces the letting go.

“Thank you for sharing that,” Misty replies. “I know why I needed to be here this morning.”

As she moves down the beach and circles back at the cliff with the purple flowers, Misty’s parched soul feels softer and her insides less strung up with anxiety. What if all she needs to do for now is be still? What if there is a Creator who has plans and a specific purpose just for her? Walking toward the car, the small smile on her face is brighter. She feels joy at the beautiful beach, the warm sun, the constant reassuring shushing of the sea.

After a few more hefty tosses of the stick, it’s time to head home. The dog drops the stick at her feet and the woman smiles and offers up a silent prayer of thanks. This random, yet not, encounter on the beach blessed her, too.

Gathering up her coffee thermos, the wet dog and the precious fetching stick, the woman in the camo hoodie understands why she felt such a pull to the sea and this specific beach today.  Tattoos and JOY written in driftwood. The still small voice isn’t wrong and what blessings come from heeding it.

Hope Grove

Hope Grove

He is up before the sun rises. His camo-colored backpack lies on the backseat of the old, dark blue Jeep. It’s full of water bottles, snacks, a sketch pad, and sunscreen. A few haphazard beach towels and a trusty old blanket are tossed on the floor, below the backpack. The smell of his hastily grabbed cappuccino wafts and swirls around him; it’s a comforting scent and tastes like liquid gold.

He enjoys road trips, especially heading to the forested mountains of the Sierras. He gets an early start to avoid traffic and people. The many laned freeways of suburbia will inch down into 2 lane, curvy mountain roads. The gentle hills give way to the foothills dotted with trees and brush.  Soon he will be in the mountains and the anticipation in his bones is invigorating!

As the Jeep climbs up and up and twists and turns on the winding road, he feels some of the tension leave him. His shoulders drop a little and the tightness around his ears and neck loosen up. He really has been full of knots and worry and vague feelings of frustration.

It won’t be long now. His turnoff is coming soon. He can feel the pull and tug on his heart and body that this mountain trail always conjures up in his soul.

Turn signal on, he eases into the small, wooded, empty parking lot. Yes! He doesn’t want distractions today. He deeply needs to be alone to refresh and get some perspective. Such unsettled emotions plague him lately. They bubble up and at times consume him. Life is difficult right now. How does he get out of this slump? Nothing is going as planned. His big interview was a disaster. He was completely unprepared and the failure of it still reddens his face with embarrassment. High expectations and dashed dreams camp out in his mind. Others in his sphere are successful and fast moving. They are further along than he is, and it rubs, scrapes, and gnaws at his thoughts.

Yet…another feeling has been hanging out in his mind, as well – a rushing sensation that pulses along in his very blood. It’s not unpleasant but unusual. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Deep down he knows whatever it is, it’s calling and beckoning to him; an insistent feeling telling him it is time to get to the mountains.

Well, here he is in the mountains…

He takes in the stillness punctuated by calling birds, rustling trees and the beautiful, blessed silence that is the forest. He belongs here. This is his place. He feels known and accepted by the mountain, the trees, the very scent of warming pine that he loves so much. He takes deep, deep breaths to capture the scent in his lungs and hold on to the scent memory.

Hefting his backpack from the Jeep, he grabs a beach towel. He plans to find a lovely place to sit and become one with the earth and forest for a bit. Maybe he will break out the sketch pad. Downing the remaining cappuccino, he is off to the trail and whatever adventure awaits him.

He chooses a brisk but easy pace for his hike. He likes to feel his blood pumping but doesn’t want to miss a single thing the forest has to show him this morning. It has been a while since he’s hiked here. He wonders if it’s changed; in his heart he hopes not.  He soaks up all the mountain offers him; sounds that only the forest makes – creatures scurrying and fussing in the undergrowth vying for bugs and seeds; loud jays that scold and screech at each other shouting the forest gossip; louder, more defined thumps and rustles that come from a bigger animal making its way over and around whatever is in the way.

All these are music to his ears and a feast for his eyes! Moving gingerly along the path, he notices some random bursts of white hidden among the detritus on the forest floor and snagged along the bark of some trees and bushes. Hmm. Odd. In all his years of hiking forest paths he doesn’t remember seeing this strange white stuff. He stops and waits a moment along a curved spot in the trail.  He looks back and sees that the placement of the white doesn’t seem quite as random as he thought. Was it placed here purposely? That urgent feeling of beckoning and calling is coursing through his blood again. Interesting. “What is this?”, he wonders aloud.

He heads off again, alert this time for more white. He spies it snared on a fallen old pine tree and heads over for a closer look. Oh, it appears to be feathery and light, a bit silky, airy, and so soft.  As he runs this white, airy softness between his fingers, a peaceful feeling of safety and rest settles over him. He senses that he is going to be ok; somehow all is well and will be well.

Not knowing what to make of this, he searches the path in front of him and spies more white as the trail twists and turns out of sight. Senses piqued, curiosity and bravery filling his soul, he travels along this mysterious path that enchants him.

Rounding a bend, he spots a small, weather-beaten sign. It sits on a dilapidated post covered with moss and lichen. Tiny yellow flowers surround the crooked base. The sign says Hope Grove and there is a faded red arrow pointing off to the right. The white, airy material is profuse here at the right-hand fork. He doesn’t remember any of this; is he lost? He does not have that frightened, adrenaline rush feeling of being lost. Oddly, he feels found.

He doesn’t hesitate as he follows the fork to the right toward Hope Grove. He feels anticipation and wait, is that joy? It might be…

There is a small tunnel-like area up ahead where smaller trees and creeping vines, snagged with the white feathery material, make a covered spot over the trail. He moves through and emerges into a lovely little grove of pines. There is a small area of meadow grasses and some wildflowers dipping in the breeze. Fascinating! He moves about this little grove stopping to look closely at the flowers, sturdy grasses, and the light; the lovely, beautiful, soft light. Excited, he finds the perfect spot to toss down the beach towel and sit a spell. His mind is clear and uncluttered. He enjoys the sounds, scents, and beauty. It refreshes him. It is actively restoring him. He feels it, he knows it. His soul and spirit unclench, and he decides to let it all go. Peace. Safety. Rest.

After sitting for a bit, allowing his tired body and battered spirit to breathe again, he opens his backpack, grabs snacks and water, and looks at the sketch pad lying there. It wills him to open it, to capture and fill the pages with what his senses show him, and the grove speaks to him.

Taking in the entirety of the small meadow and grove, he sees a well-worn sign to his left. Hope Grove. The words are written in blue faded letters. Floating off one corner of this aged sign, he sees the white again. The way the light hits it, the way it flutters and moves with the gauzy breeze looks like feathers – white, airy, wispy feathers. Happy and joyful, they beckon and call to him. He is not alone here in Hope Grove. The presence is not sinister; it is a Spirit of joy, belonging, peace and love which permeates this sacred place. It is sacred and intimate. Here he is wanted. There is no expectation put on him because he knows that he is enough. The fear that sticks to him of late falls away. In its place is confidence. Confidence that he’s got this and is right where he needs to be in his life journey. Opening the sketch book, he surprises himself at how deftly, yet simply he captures the light of this place. The way it falls between the pine trees, in stark but gentle beams. The sign is dappled by the rays that penetrate its corner of the grove, illuminating the white feathers in a mysterious, forest-y, and peaceful way.

In between his drawing and snacking, he allows the peace and silence of this grove to seep deep into his spirit, soul, and bones. He will not forget.

As the light and sounds of the forest shift to early evening, it is time to go. He feels wistful as he packs up his things, careful to leave this magical place undisturbed. What he will leave behind him is fear, defeat, expectations, and comparison. What he will take from the grove is joyful determination, confidence, peace, and the ability to rest and enjoy his life journey. He is enough!

Making his way back along the trail he sees that his feathery white guides are gone. He smiles to himself. He knows the way back but needed their help to discover restoration and hope for his tired and restless soul.

Ascending

The Creator watches as they ascend to the heavenlies. Lovely, iridescent conversations drifting up from the souls of His creation. Gently capturing every spoken and unspoken request in His hand, He attends to them all with love and delight. Engraved on His palms are names, so many names; each one a special treasure with His undivided attention. He listens with deep compassion as the fragrance of our need for Him fills, swirls, and mingles with cherubim song and the voices of the saints. A song that is deep, mysterious, and filled with prophecy pours from His mouth and flows down to bathe and hover over us. Deep calls to deep as He intervenes, commands, and performs the miraculous. His timing is perfect.

Each prayer, groan, praise, and cry rise upward on the delicate, life-giving vapors of His very breath breathed into our lungs. Returning to the Creator, they seek peace, protection, and healing; compassion, provision, and love – that deep need to be known and seen – to matter.

Never resting, omniscient and omnipresent, the Almighty is aware of all that concerns His cherished ones. No need, thought, or desire is hidden from Him. The first fluttering open of an eyelid in the morning, the woodsy scent of pine being inhaled and enjoyed, the sting of rejection and late-night tears from a broken heart are not lost on Him. Full of compassion and mercy He sings over the pain, fear, joy and mundane, speaking that which is not, into existence and calling home those for whom eternity with Him is beckoning.

When a wound is so deep that the wounded one has no words, yet cries out with groans and weeping, He is in the midst of it, speaking peace, speaking healing, speaking Himself into the chaos. It must quiet, obey and make space for His plan, healing, and comfort. Just a brush from the hem of His robe is enough to calm a soul in distress, to heal the body, mind, and spirit, and quiet the voices of fear, worry, despair and evil. His thoughts and His glance are always enough. Omnipotent.

When shouts of joy and words of thanksgiving tumble from grateful lips and eyes are tear-stained with joy and deliverance He is there. He rejoices with the heavenly host over a prodigal come home, a life healed, a relationship mended, a soul repentant and forgiven.

The prayers whispered in the mundane, unseen happenings of an ordinary day are revered and never overlooked. There is a specific purpose for each second granted to His child and not one is trivial.

There is peace and safety knowing that we are not anonymous. We are fully known and seen in a sea of humanity desperate for hope, peace, protection, and healing. Psalm 139: 1-6 declares, “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.”

The prayers of creation will never cease ascending to the Father’s ears. He will forever receive them with love and mercy, giving grace, undivided attention, and care to each one. Billions of soul-whispers and cries continuously flow upward. Yours will never be lost in the crowd. You will never be irrelevant and unseen. Your voice will always be a beautiful incense perfuming the Throne Room of the Most High. You are not anonymous to the One who loves you best.

Let There Be

This short statement in Genesis 1:3 called the world into existence. The Spirit of God hovered over the empty, formless mass of Earth declaring it to exist out of nothing.

In my mind I see it – deep blackness empty of hope and life, the vast, desolate emptiness and absolute silence of it all. Nothingness. It’s overwhelming to think about because we have never experienced absolute nothingness, the absence of all sound. How would that feel? Suffocating? Terrifying? Absolutely alone. Pin pricks of goose bumps form as I picture what the Creator hovered over in that place devoid of everything.

But He said, “Let there be…”.

That is not a wish or a casual comment. “Let there be.” It’s a command. As the Spirit of God hovered, He already knew what He was going to call into existence. He always knew and dedicated a specific time and place for it to happen.

Omnipotent. Omniscient. Omnipresent. Alpha and Omega. The power, compassion and patience, the wisdom, authority, and mystery wrapped up in these words is nothing short of awe inspiring, humbling and breath taking. Everything becoming as He intended by the words of His mouth – nothing accidental or happenstance. “So is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” 1

This word from His mouth included you and me.

As the earth we inhabit was being called into existence you and I were on His mind. When there was nothing but blackness and silence, we were thought of and intimately known down to the minute cellular details of our being. The exact timing of our birth, our parents, our siblings, our friends, our entire sphere of existence was known, decided, and waiting for His word to release us to be and do what He ordained from the very beginning. I imagine the joy and excitement in the heavenlies as each of us were sent forth!

It is hard to know what to do with the knowledge that we have always been known, cherished and so very loved; that before we existed in a worldly way, the exact number of hairs on our heads was decided, the color of our eyes was carefully thought out, and the path we were created to walk was plotted out carefully and completely. There is no surprise or plot twist for Him. Our paths may be twisty, uncertain, tedious, and full of the unexpected, unwanted, and unexplained to our limited wisdom, but not to the One who set it all in motion with the command, “Let there be…”.

I wonder how many times each day He declares that command over us. “Let there be” …a job, provision, healing, restoration, a safe trip, a friend when we are lonely, an angelic intervention, hope when life seems desperate, protection from evil. His words never return void, and they achieve all that He sent them forth to accomplish. He’s declaring it over you right now. “Let there be” …hope, peace, blessings, and victory! You are safe, you are known, you are of immense value.

1 Isaiah 55:11

Living with Hope

1 Peter 1:6-9 (NLT), “So be truly glad! There is wonderful joy ahead, even though it is necessary for you to endure many trials for a while.  These trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold – and your faith is far more precious to God than mere gold. So if your faith remains strong after being tried by fiery trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world. You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him, you trust him; and even now you are happy with a glorious, inexpressible joy. Your reward for trusting him will be the salvation of your souls.”

These are hard words to read during a painful trial that seems to have no end. Sometimes it blindsides us and we reel with feeling overwhelmed, unprepared, and out of control. Maybe this trial was caused by the result of someone else’s choices that we didn’t see coming.  Maybe it stems from our own bad decisions, and we are left stumbling through consequences that we brought to our doorstep. We have all been there at least once and it hurts. It is confusing and frightening. It feels like there is no way out from under the damage. We feel helpless. How desperately we want Jesus to take it all away!

A few things I have learned about trials is this; oftentimes God uses the trial we are walking through to change us. When we are living unchallenged, complacent, comfortable, and self-reliant, He may use a tough situation or circumstance to move us away from destructive patterns and steer us in a new and healthy direction. After a breast cancer diagnosis, my world collapsed in a matter of moments. Everything I thought I knew and understood was destroyed. Nothing made sense. Never had I felt so vulnerable, helpless, and terrified. No one could walk this path for me or take it away and there was no one, but God, who could carry me through this. I had a choice to make at that moment; allow despair and terror to reign in my world, or choose to put it at His feet, extravagantly hope and believe there was a purpose somewhere in this. I chose hope and it was my lifeline. I did not know His plans – would I survive? Through the two years of treatments and surgeries, hope and unexpected blessings, pain, and fear, I discovered that feeling helpless is NOT the same as being helpless. With God we are not helpless. He is always as close as our next breath and never leaves us to face trials alone. He is the source of all hope.

I truly believe He uses our pain and rough seasons to purify and beautify us and our faith, so that one day he will clearly see His image in us. Self-reliance, pride, and self-righteousness have no place amid a life altering trial. It is surprising and beautiful how compassion and empathy are born during difficulty, pain, and loss if we choose to trust ourselves to the One who created us.  He will make a way. We can be confident that God will separate something priceless from the dross of our experiences.

Imagine God’s joy and delight as He skims off the gunk and begins to see HIS image in us; something priceless!  I hope it makes you smile knowing the Creator of galaxies is so invested and in love with each one of us, that He takes all the time necessary to allow us to feel the heat of trials, so that He can one day bring forth, for the world to see, the radiant beauty of our life testimonies. We can be a beacon of hope, salvation, and love to a world full of hurting humans who need to hear a word of hope and see a life redeemed.

Random thoughts on quarantine, prayers and thankfulness…

This is a weird time to be in right now. The requirement of being home is quite different than wanting to be at home or choosing to be home. When I want or choose to be home, it’s like giving myself the gift of permission to just “be” and that feels safe and cozy and pleasant, something to savor and appreciate. With a lot of things feeling off kilter and out of balance, I feel a bit lost in being home and it not being my choice. Errands that were annoying and exasperating a few months ago, begin looking so lovely! An opportunity to get out! Go! Do! Accomplish! But, that’s not how life is right now. It is eerie being out, strange to feel exposed and vulnerable just doing what I always do. It is odd to need a mask on my face to feel some semblance of safety, yet not really knowing where the threat is coming from…is it the guy over there by the bread? The woman, with no mask on, coughing, by the eggs? The seemingly strong and fit younger guy browsing the veggies? Or the couple walking by with their dogs, trying to enjoy some sun? It is a disconcerting knowing there is a real threat out there but having no idea exactly where it is lurking or if I am the threat to someone else.

I love to pray, intercede and talk to Jesus during the day. There are times when I feel unsure and overwhelmed by all the need in the world and next door and in the next state and in my own home, that I literally do not know how to pray for all of this. We haven’t experienced this before and there isn’t a “set way” to do it. This truly is beyond us. But God… sitting on my patio thinking about how to pray for ALL of this, God reminded me of Romans 8:26, “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.” That’s comforting. He knows how this is going to turn out. He knows what He is going to do and not do, who He is going to equip and raise up for such a time as this. It’s been in preparation for eternity and this virus has not taken God by surprise. He’s gifting scientists and researchers and healthcare workers with wisdom, creativity and intellect to tackle this and we aren’t left all alone in it. Filtered through His hands. When we don’t know what or how to pray, it is perfectly ok to say, “Here it is God, here’s all the need and fear and illness and death and unknown, so just here, take it, heal it, work it out and please just give us You.” He’s enough.

There is a book I like reading each morning – Jesus Calling. I loved yesterday’s reading. “When you focus on what you don’t have or on situations that displease you, your mind also becomes darkened. You take for granted life, salvation, sunshine, flowers and countless other gifts from Me. You look for what is wrong and refuse to enjoy life until that is “fixed.” Negative focus darkens the mind. Hmmm. Yes, I think it does. Right now, there are a lot of things that are not going our way, that seem impossible to surmount, that are terrifying and unknown and create so much fear and panic and feelings of lack. I think it is healthy to acknowledge all the things that displease, frighten and anger us. If ignored and denied, those feelings and fears fester and grow and threaten to take over. But, once looked at and acknowledged, maybe we can choose to look about us with clear eyes, open minds and expansive hearts to find things to be thankful for that are good, positive and bring joy. What if we were present and not attempting to rehearse the future, imagine what post-virus life is going to be like and just be and see what is in front of us. There will be terrible things, but I need to believe there will be just as many, if not more, good things right in front of us; maybe hidden by the large looming pandemic, but still there. Simple things like warm sun, chilly rain, 11 day old baby kittens in my guest room, sunrise and sunset, birds singing, coffee on the patio, a walk in the neighborhood looking at all the flowers, the actual chance to sit, to be, to stare at nothing…

I know this is random and disjointed, so thank you for sticking with me, if you made it this far, but this is my mind right now. I don’t have this figured out and I don’t know how to do this either. I can guarantee my mind will go to dark places, probably even today, but I know I can pull my thoughts back up and refocus as many times as I need to and so can you. The one constant I know completely and has never failed me is Jesus. He’s never left us and He’s not going to now.

I pray His peace and presence all over every one of you!

It is well

Pandemic. Shortage. Lack. Hoarding. Panic. This is how it feels right now. All of social media is full of the latest death, new cases of Covid-19, rumors of martial law, people ignoring social distancing out of fear, denial, ignorance, stupidity, selfishness…it is frightening and disconcerting. We haven’t had to do this before. We don’t know how to do this and that in itself makes everything feel off balance and surreal.

The first time it really struck me and became “real” was in the grocery store not that long ago. The atmosphere was odd. People were wandering the aisles and I could see the uncertainty in their faces – how much do I buy? Will there be enough? Will we be ok? I stood still in the aisle that normally contains all types of dried beans, rice and pasta and felt totally overwhelmed. The shelves were bare. Stripped of just about everything. It was such a surreal feeling. I have never felt that way before and it felt like the footing was ripped out from under me. I stood there and wanted to cry; for the loss, the strangeness, the total unknown, the anxiety that all of that produced. I finished my shopping, but that undercurrent of unease and chaos still simmered there.

I turned on music as I put away our groceries and the song It is Well by Bethel Music started to play. I stopped, sat and listened to the lyrics. Such beautiful words. Such truth.

“And through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You. And through it all, through it all, it is well…and this mountain that’s in front of me, will be thrown into the midst of the sea…So let go my soul and trust in Him, the waves and wind still know His name…and it is well with my soul, It is well with my soul…”

God knew I was afraid, disconcerted, stressed and feeing out of control. I adore Him for gifting me with this song at that moment. I literally felt my muscles relaxing, my breathing slow and my soul calming. The wind and the waves obey His every command! They cannot cross the boundaries He has put into place without His permission. He’s got this. He’s got us.

The chaos is still here, life still remains uncertain; panic and fear prowl and sniff at our hearts and minds, looking for any tiny fissure of terror and doom, to sneak in and flourish. We don’t have to let them in. We don’t. It is very hard not to, believe me, I get it. I have to talk to myself and Jesus constantly to keep from getting sucked into chaotic thinking and trying to rehearse what will happen and how this will all turn out. I am not good at that and not always successful. I don’t know what the new normal will look like, as this virus continues to rage or what the new normal will look like once it has run it’s course. No one knows but Jesus. He knows and He isn’t afraid, He isn’t scrambling and panicking. Nothing touches us that isn’t first filtered though His hands.

I pray that as we navigate all this “new”, that we will love others and try to give lots of grace and compassion. I pray that we allow others to feel what they feel and allow ourselves to feel what we feel, because we are humans; but I pray we choose not to reside in chaos and fear, but remember that it is well and He is so very near.

 

 

Anniversary

This simple word holds a lot of meaning. It’s definition is “the date on which an event took place in a previous year.” It doesn’t say that this event was particularly good, bad or otherwise, but it often represents something significant; something that is seared in your memory and that has long reaching effects on life going forward. Marriage is one of the first events that typically comes to mind, along with birthdates, first day of school, graduation, first job, death of a loved one.

For me, this time of year is the anniversary of an event that was completely unwelcome, blindsiding, shocking and heartbreaking. Nine years ago, on November 23rd, 2010 my Doctor told my husband and I that I had breast cancer. It was the day before Thanksgiving. I find that ironic. Thanksgiving, when we are supposed to count our blessings, be grateful, go around the beautifully decorated table and list 3 things and people we are thankful for that year. It is supposed to be happy, full of laughs, calm, restful; full of blessings and appreciation. That is not at all how I felt nor did my family.  It was a time of sadness, fear, helplessness, not knowing if I would be alive the following year, deep anger and many emotions that I still, to this day, do not have adequate words to describe. I was not thankful.

The next several years were full of chemo, radiation, Herceptin, anti nausea and various other meds pumped into me 24/7. There were prods, pokes, surgeries and so many scans and tests, blood work and scares and triumphs. And every year, the anniversary of one of the worst days of my life.

Yet…now that there is some distance from that first anniversary, now that the scares come less often as well as the blood work and tests, I find I am thankful. The scares and fears are still there on some level and will always be with me and I’m ok with that. What I learned through this experience and living through these anniversaries has taught me more about life and God’s love, compassion and mercy than anything else could have. I’m not in control of everything and it’s not my job to be.

There are those who say forget the past and all that it brings up, focus only on the good and positive. I agree on a certain level, however, I don’t believe in erasing those things God allowed into our lives for a specific season and purpose, because nothing touches us that He doesn’t first filter through His hands. Nothing. Life, death, pain, heartbreak, joy, triumph and victory. It all serves a purpose and will be used for good. I can’t say I know how it will all be used, and I won’t say it might not break our hearts, but I 100% believe it is and it will be used for good. The imagery of God’s hands filtering and sifting events, people and circumstances that enter my life makes me feel safe and valuable and protected.

This anniversary is one I will not forget. I will not try to stuff it all down or put it away. I let it come each year and I let the emotions that are attached to it flow. It isn’t easy and parts of it still hurt, but there are many parts of the memories that don’t hurt anymore, because I see clearly how close Jesus was to me. For that I can say that I’m thankful. He had and still does, have a divine purpose in all of this. This trauma brought me close to Jesus. It had to, because I had nothing else to cling to and no other hope but in Him.

So this Thanksgiving and the anniversary of my cancer diagnosis is a reminder to me that there is hope in Jesus for every single circumstance that is allowed my way. I don’t know what your anniversaries are and I don’t know the impact they have had on your life and the lives of those you love, but I do know that God was there on that first anniversary and He is here right now. He saw you then and He sees you now. You are not alone and He is working it all out. It may be hard, frightening, a wild ride full of joy and victory, love and loss and new seasons, but in the midst of it all there is hope, extravagant hope!

Psalm 119:114 NLT

You are my refuge and my shield; your word is my source of hope.

Jeremiah 29:11 NIV

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

 

Holy Ground

Easter is upon us. As I reflect on the most tremendous sacrifice of love the world has ever known, I am overwhelmed. I can’t wrap my mind around this kind of love. Before Creation, Jesus knew the sacrifice He was fully willing to make for you and for me. He knew every doubt, sin, unbelief and evil thought we would harbor; every selfish, unkind act we would commit; every self-sufficient attempt we would make to be in control of our lives and ignore the leading of His Spirit. He knew. He died for us anyway.
John 3:16 – “For God loved the world in this way: He gave His One and Only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.”
One of my favorite songs is Holy Ground by Passion. When I hear and sing the words to this song, I tear up. Not out of sadness or pain. These tears come from a heart that’s grateful for the grace, mercy, healing and compassion that is beyond what I can understand. Tears come out of love, awe and reverence for the power that is in the name of Jesus.  As the words to the song convey, the power in the name of Jesus changes everything! Absolutely everything. The personal encounters with Jesus I have been blessed and honored to have, of His presence, power and healing, leave me without adequate words. As you read the words to part of the song, I pray that they reach out and touch you in a personal way that is just between you and HIm. I pray the words you are desperate to hear from Him, the love you desire to know, the peace you have been so long in seeking, will fall down over you.
“Chains fall, Fear bow
Here, now
Jesus, you change everything.
Lives healed, Hope found
Here, now
Jesus, you change everything.”
He knows where healing and renewed hope are desperately needed. He knows every single detail about the chains that need to be broken and what caused them to bind you in the first place. He can heal all of that. Fear will be cast down and put in its place before the power of His great name. Jesus knows exactly why we need Him and in what circumstances we need to see a miracle. May our burning, beating hearts become holy ground, where the divine and humanity intersect and dwell together, creating something beautiful, miraculous and eternal.
“Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Philippians 2:9-11