I have just started reading this devotional by a fellow author and am liking it immensely!
I wonder how often we find ourselves in this trap of making our relationship with Jesus a to-do list?
*Read the Bible for a certain amount of time in the morning only – check.
*Pray for 30 minutes following a script of what to say, when, and how – check
*Listen to worship music ONLY in the car – check
and our lists go on…
I love the author’s reminder that Jesus doesn’t expect checklists, routines, or disciplines that take away from us just BEING with Him. Isn’t His presence far better and more deeply healing than our disciplines, routines, and lists? He knows us, sees our hearts, and delights when we choose just to be with Him.
It’s ok to take a hike, enjoy the silence of creation, and find Him right there with us. It’s ok to sip our coffee and allow Him to sift and sort our thoughts, fears, and schedules.
Maybe this week, we can just be with Jesus without lists, schedules, and expectations, and see what He has to say to us and how He heals us. You are deeply loved. Peace be with you.
The wool threads display the richest colors as they flow across the loom, some vibrant and brilliant, which immediately draw the eye and capture attention, while other shades and hues are subdued, calming, and deep, visible only to those who truly see. The Master Weaver has been at His work forever, and He will not stop until it is completed. His breath creates and calls into existence that which was not into what is. His thoughts and His songs, His glance, and His robes are all part of the Divine dance that weave and blend to make a way where there wasn’t one. Supernatural, unstoppable, beautiful.
We each have a unique tapestry. No tapestry is the same, yet our individual threads intersect, overlap, advance, and retreat as the tapestry is woven, and the Creator’s plans come into being. What He sends forth will not return void. It will accomplish the exact and perfect purpose for which it was sent. Perfection. Mysterious. Holy.
I imagine an open space that is peaceful and joyful, where the Master does His creating. It is a place filled with pure, flowing water, incense, and beauty. It is called Holy Ground. This sacred spot is where the weaving happens. It is precious and well-guarded. There is joy, tender love, hurt, and tears. Laughter and grief intermingle and twine about each other in a dance that is gorgeous, fierce, completely untamed, terrifying, and yet carefully orchestrated. Who can contain and control what Heaven has spoken and breathed into life?
The individual tapestries stand alone, yet they do not. Each one is carefully and precisely ordered to intersect, surprise, and flow into the others. Each tapestry is necessary for the others to come to fruition. Certain tapestries will be woven together for a lifetime, others for a few moments, years, days, or seasons. Some may barely skim the borders of another, yet there is a Divine purpose for the skimming and the overlapping, the touching, and intersecting.
The Creator knows, and that is enough. He sees it for how it is, how it was, and He will see it long after we are called home. Perhaps we will see His master plan with unveiled eyes, once blurred from striving to understand, force, or remove these divine intersections. What is woven together can’t be undone by the tapestry. Struggling is futile and distracts from the beauty unfolding minute by minute in front of us. No, we can’t foresee, tame, and reverse that which was breathed by Holy breath into existence. This is where hope and faith must come into play.
There are lessons that must be learned, hurts healed, and other tapestries that need the colors, hues, and patterns the Weaver chose to color your life tapestry. These will not always blend in perfect harmony. This mixture will, at times, appear chaotic and unsafe, as if they should not have been allowed to brush against each other. The Master Craftsman knows how it all unfolds because He saw it from the beginning. Alpha and Omega.
What appears as chaos, pain, and discord at the moment is part of the dance. He knows the steps because He created them. We can’t pretend to understand the whys and purposes behind His plan, but one day I hope we will. When the final thread in our tapestry is woven, and the Weaver shepherds us into the place called Holy Ground, we will see how it all blends into something lovely, ordered, and precise, and we will stand in awe of it; smiling through tears of understanding as the height, breadth, and depth of His perfect love covers us. We will watch in fascination as the remaining tapestries are sung and danced over, breathed upon, and woven together until He leans back from His loom, declares it is finished, and brings His masterpieces home to be forever displayed in the Most Holy Place, for all of eternity.
“Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.”
I took this photo several years ago while hiking near the ocean. The worn steps, the wild green grasses and yellow flowers, and the upward curve at the top spoke to me, compelling me to keep going up, up, up.
I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d find at the top or how much further I’d be walking to get there. But…something beckoned and I chose to keep climbing to see the view when I got to the top. It didn’t disappoint!
The wild, fierce, untamed, raw beauty of the North coast was breathtaking. The wind whipped and tugged, the air scented with life and all things ocean! The perspective from that height, the beauty, and power were a little overwhelming, but in a good way. Jesus and I had some good convos up there and when it was time to walk back down, I felt lighter, cleaner, refreshed.
It’s like our life journey. Some parts are smooth, easy terrain, and others…not so much. But He personally goes before us. He never leaves us when what’s up ahead looks daunting, exhausting, or too much. We are never abandoned, discarded, or left behind.
I love this photo because I picture Jesus going ahead of me, preparing the way, moving obstacles I will never see, and shouting/whispering/singing encouragement over me when I’m tired, world-weary, and not sure I can keep going.
He knows what is at the top of your hard, rocky, uncertain path, and He’s not leaving you to manage it. He knows the delight, beauty, joy, and restoration waiting for you at the top because He placed it there for just a time as this.
He’s got you. He’s with you. You are seen and so deeply loved. You are enough.
Now get out there and enjoy that journey! Who knows what delights, answers, and new perspectives are waiting for you to come up over the top of that trail that’s before you and gasp in awe at the incredible beauty.
“…- an escape from the mundane of my day and a glimpse into heaven. Every page had me nodding my head; identifying with what the author penned while simultaneously being both challenged and inspired. Truly, a divine encounter!”
The early morning sun offers the promise of warmth and expectation.
An indolent day at the beach is exactly what is needed!
Arms laden with a beach bag full of vittles, sunscreen, and a towel, I discover the perfect spot to settle in for the day.
Cliffs behind me, ocean before me, sun above me, sand below.
Perfection. Shelter. Peace.
My little space is set up; all is in order and ready for me to be one with the breeze and old-Earth smell of brine and life and decay.
Shoes off, sunscreen on, now to the water.
Contradictions.
That is what I see in the ocean, yet also safety, born out of the ancient rhythms of the Earth—forever marching on, steady and unyielding.
The tide’s constancy is relentless, untamable, fierce; all without apology, the ocean does what it is meant to do.
The water laps and rushes and chases my feet, startling and elemental in its coldness. Invigorating and inspiring.
The birds, crabs, and tiny sea creatures count on the unchanging ways of the ocean because it is life to them. The ocean gives, and these creatures take.
But I think the ocean is also a taker. It takes the worries, stress, fears, and uncertainties in life; it takes words spoken and wept and screamed by those who walk the beach looking for answers, solace, and peace. We push those things out of our hearts, and the ocean pulls them into itself.
A lovely dance.
Perhaps this is what God does for us. He takes all the fear, rage, worry, and tears that we spew out into Himself and pulls them away from us as we release it all to Him. He is fierce, constant, untamable, mysterious, and present. He gives life; He is love; we rely on Him.
Back at my sanctuary, the sand under my legs and back is so warm, relaxing, and inviting. It is solid and permanent; warmth leeches into my chilled bones, lulled to a drowsy peacefulness.
With closed eyes and warm sun baking down in pleasant coziness, I notice my other senses stirred; susurrating waves whisper and breathe, birds call overhead; somewhere, a dog is barking.
That scent of salt floats on the ever-present breeze along with notes of a barbecue and the cloying scent of flowers.
Drowsy and dreamy, my mind wanders in that half-dreaming state of blissful rest.
The sun has shifted in the sky, and there is a slight chill in the air. How long have I been lying here?
Hunger gnaws, so here come the snacks.
Seagulls make an appearance and scold and demand that I share, watching closely every move I make. I share.
Before packing up, it’s time for a walk.
There are footprints going before me in the sea-soaked sand, and I wonder whose they are and what secrets they’ve spoken to the sea today.
Interesting how before long, all traces of my footprints will be washed away, as if I had never walked here; as if the past is washed away and cleaned up and brand-new sand is offered up for a new direction, new footprints, new promises.
Jesus cleans up our lives like this; the old washed away, the new offered up; clean, lovely, and ready for a new journey. Sun dipping down, air quite cool, water coming higher; my signal to call it a day.
Heading to the car, I feel rested, new, and cleansed, a little wild and wooly from the rawness of the ocean and its wild and chaotic yet perfectly ordered dance.
I pray as 2026 looms near that we find our voices, sink our roots deeply into the space God has planted us, and thrive. He knows the plans He has for us and He knows the way you will positively impact those He has placed around you – it’s not by chance that you are where you are. You are so loved. Peace be with you.
The December night is dark and deep, stillness and chill seeping into bones despite a layering of coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and thick-soled boots.
Footfall is muffled and shushed along the pine-strewn path, boots stirring up the ancient scent of the woods and winter-shrouded earth.
The hush of the forest has a particular sound—not truly silent to the careful observer but full of the rustle, scurry, and purpose of those living in the night. Frigid air gives their purpose a new vigor with warm dens and beds of fern, pine needles, and forest detritus waiting to give shelter.
Deep, full inhalations fill lungs to the brim with invigorating, life-giving air. Oddly, the heavy chill, though it burns and startles, offers peace and affirmation of knowing one is alive and well. Sometimes it takes the cloak of a dark, wintry, forest-y night to bring clarity to the chaos and exposure of living in the light.
Rounding the curve in the path, the stillness of the pond with the shimmery moon-glow trail on the dark water is breathtaking. A path of light and love painted on the water by the brush strokes of One who loves to bring awe, redemption, and delight. Loved. Seen. Safe.
The sound of stealthy prowling comes from the edge of the pond as a night hunter shifts and waits for dinner. Circle of life.
Moving along as the chill ever deepens, the hooting of an owl adds to the frosty night noises—haunting and lovely, it is primitive and wild.
The path around the pond circles back on itself, and my boots head back to the cabin. Thoughts of the cheerful fire in the firepit on the deck and the warm sherpa blanket urge me onward at a brisker pace.
Wrapped in the cozy blanket, Irish coffee in the large Christmas mug warms my cold hands, steam rising merrily as the fire mesmerizes me.
A scrabbling, crunchy noise interrupts my reveries as a creature moves about to the left of the deck, digging through pine needles and foliage for a midnight snack. Curious glowing eyes spy on me. The shadowy outline of a fat raccoon in the faint reach of the firelight watches me until her curiosity wanes, and she moves along.
Leaning back in the deck chair, the stars appear strewn about like so much glitter landing at random points. But nothing is truly random. The night sky is beautifully planned and decorated with patterns and puzzles of light created to lead the ancient traveler.
Frosty breath wafts up as if making its way to the austere moon that guides, watches, and travels the night sky. Fascinating to imagine all the eyes that have looked up in the night for navigation and a sense of constancy in a world that doesn’t always seem that way. A balm to lonely souls, the shining beacon of light makes things feel safer and less chaotic.
The shepherds on that holy and silent night looked up into the same chilled, star-filled sky that I see on my deck as the fire glows and snickers to itself. The same moon watched on as the Holy One became man, as angelic hosts filled the still and starry night with the most awe-inspiring, stunning display of power and love that humankind has ever known.
It is not by happenstance that eyes are drawn upward—seeking wisdom, direction, meaning, safety, love, and blessed peace.
From a cold and silent winter night, filled with moonlight and stars, came the Light of the world. A Divine exchange between Creator and creation. Ultimate gift. Unconditional love. Emmanuel.
Warm bed beckons, and I head inside, mind full of awe as I struggle to comprehend the enormity of the gift humanity was given on that night so long ago.
The old wood stove burns quiet, drowsy warmth. I curl up under quilts and comforters as the light of the moon gently glows through the snug window. Thoughts of angels, joy, and eternity soothe and calm into a restful sleep—a silent and holy night where all is calm and bright under a December moon.
Psalm 126:3 NLT “Yes, the Lord has done amazing things for us! What joy!”
One week before Christmas and I’m dealing with a nasty cold/virus, canceled plans, and feelings of disappointment. My husband and I won’t have our adult kids home this year, so these vacation plans were something festive and exciting we hoped would ease the missing of them this year.
I was up extra early this morning in an attempt to ease the coughing and sneezing. I cozied down in my favorite chair wrapped in a blanket, with hot coffee, and the Christmas lights glowing in the living room. I wanted to feel sad, disappointed, frustrated, and I did, but…the silence, the misty fog outside, and the warm, glowing lights covered me in such a comforting feeling of peace and safety. I felt tucked in and looked after. Divine presence…
As I settled in, my mind wandered to Christmases past, funny and happy memories, and then it circled back to the now. It’s true that my plans and expectations for this season aren’t following the script, but joy doesn’t always come in carefully planned, to-do list ways. In the lovely quiet, I felt His gentle reminder of all the ways good things did happen. In the unexpected blessings and joys that did find me, in the divine encounters and the divine whispers that left me in awe of how deeply seen, known, and loved I am by the greatest gift ever given – Jesus. Emmanuel, God with us – the One who never disappoints, never falls short, lavishes us with blessings, joy, peace, and handmade gifts uniquely crafted for me and for you. Apple of His eye.
So yes, I am confident I will find joy this Christmas season. I will actively search for it in the ordinary, the mundane, the silence of a quiet house, the glow of holiday lights, and the adventure of canceled plans, because He knows the plans He has for me. That is comforting.
I pray that you will find the joy, the adventures, and the beauty in this season of mystery and divine appointments as you look to Him because He is enough.
“Earth has no words that can convey the holy calm of a soul leaning on Jesus.” Charles Spurgeon
Read these words again. One more time, and again. There truly are no words that describe the feeling of being immersed in His peace and His presence – fully in. The mysterious calm, the supernatural holiness. The only thing I have found that begins to come close is sitting in nature allowing the creation of His hands, His breath, His heart to wash over me, and surround me, and heal me. Nature speaks of Him always. Every color, sound, and scent leads back to Him. Those who seek Him will find Him.
Extravagant Hope 