grace

Light

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The first gentle rays of sunrise bathe the cluster of Redwoods in a pale, quiet glow. The forest air is crisp and clean as it sheds the last vestiges of night.

Nature’s early risers watch and wait. They are eager to greet the new day with gossip and chatter. The early light calls them to bring their songs and joy to the new morning. The undergrowth is full of rustles and kicked about leaves as the hunt for seeds and insects begins.

Shadows and light play off of each other illuminating swaths of the leafy forest floor as the sun makes its ascent. Sunbeams filtering through the branches catch and backlight tiny dust motes trapped in the air. It feels supernatural how the rays of light are so concentrated, yet gentle, like a divine spotlight that pierces and penetrates, exposing everything to the pure, beautiful light. Each beam highlights and dances over the branches, trunks and leafy bushes, casting an ethereal and other worldly glow to the waking forest. One might expect angels to move in this mysterious light. Whispers of the divine abound.

The crooked curve of a branch, sharp, rough edges of tree bark, mossy growth and choking poison ivy that entwines as it creeps up the tree trunks are laid bare in the light. Everything stands out in stark relief. Even dead, cracked branches that are brittle, hard and dull are bathed in light and a kind of loveliness is restored. Beauty found in unexpected places…

There are no secrets here. Nothing is hidden. The rough, sharp scars, the dead, ugly pieces, the mossy growths and random vines threatening to suffocate the beauty of the trees, are naked and exposed in the lovely, glowing light. Holy.

Transformation happens in the Light. All is revealed and can be made whole again. We can find beauty in the dead, scarred places when the One who pierces the darkness with His breath, His gaze, and His thoughts turns His eyes to those unlovely parts that we so desperately want to hide. Shame is exposed and covered with grace. Wounds are bound and healed as life and prophesy are breathed over them. He makes beautiful things out of the dark, hidden places. Scars show perseverance and victory, dead places are pruned and healed, curves and bumps become testimony and entangling vines are exposed and burned away in the Light.

His Light can feel harsh, painful and exposing. It takes courage to stand in it and let the Light do its healing work. But the end result will reap untold, eternal benefits. Joy will come in the morning, when the Morning Star covers and bathes our exposed and vulnerable parts with soft, healing, lovely Light.

The Park Bench and the Willow Tree

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The Park Bench and the Willow Tree

Gentle sunbeams peek through the branches and leaves of the willow tree. The soft light covers one edge of the wooden park bench beneath its branches.

The sun hasn’t been up for long. The spring morning is quiet and cool after a clear and chilly night. The newly budding leaves are vibrant and proud. They take their job seriously as the giver of shade to the bench and those who visit it.

They are a pair, these two, often referred to as the “willow bench” by those who find solace in its shade and peace from the view of the lovely little park. The things they have heard and seen in their years together – laughter and tears, joy and pain, love and heartbreak. Anxiety and fear are lifted and soothed as the Creator’s breath blows healing in the breeze rustling the leaves and cooling the bench-sitter.

His whispered healing is found in bird song, critter antics, fellow bench sitters and simply the peace and quiet where words are not needed; where love flows and tenderly holds the wounds poured out in the freedom found under the sweeping branches.

The willow and the park bench have seen seasons come and go. Spring, with the burst of new growth and gentle light from the sun encouraging park visitors to venture out and soak up the warmth.

The coming of Summer invites families, groups, picnics and summer games of baseball, frisbee throwing and kite flying with the bench and the willow providing shade and rest.

In the Fall, the leaf-peepers and lovers of the season, with their hoodies and warm drinks in hand, walk the park with anticipation of the changing colors and that feeling of slowing down, coziness and letting go that Fall always conjures.

There are less visitors in Winter when the cold descends, and glimpses of the sun are few and far between. The park folds in on itself as the work of deep rest and hidden growth takes place.

Then there are the faithful ones who visit the bench and the willow no matter the season. They have experienced peace and deep rest here. The wooden bench and gnarled willow are old friends who know all the secrets and pining of the heart and accept and embrace it without words. These park-goers have felt the divine whispers and heavenly songs breathed out over them while sitting in nature’s silence. They have allowed the healing and supernatural presence of the Creator to bind up wounds and lift heavy burdens. With ears that hear and eyes that see, what is sought can be found in the most ordinary and beautiful places.

Coming very soon!

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Hi everyone! Divine Appointments…will be live and published this month! Uploading to Amazon as eBook/Kindleand paperback has begun and both will soon available. I cannot wait for you all to get book #2 in your hands!

Thank you so much for the continued support – it is much appreciated and so very valuable to self-published authors.

Cheers!

Weakness

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The sun hasn’t been up for long. I’m sitting in my favorite spot with my coffee, of course. I am feeling out of sorts and restless this morning. The patio and garden are cool and lovely with early birds and critters stopping in for breakfast. I know there is peace to be found here, but it’s elusive. Things are weighing on my heart and circumstances happening that leave me feeling feeble, chaotic, and uncertain. Those are not feelings I like, nor do I want them hanging around making me feel out of control and incapable.

My mind is trying to process and organize all these things – trying to fix them because I fancy myself a fixer. As I’m sitting, a breeze picks up and tosses some leaves and spent blooms around the garden. I notice that they are at the mercy of the breeze. It isn’t a wild and insane storm; it is simply a breeze that is stronger than the blooms – the blooms are weaker than the breeze. Pondering this, remembered words pop into my mind…my strength comes into its own in your weakness.

Weakness. This isn’t a word most of us want associated with ourselves. However, strength needs weakness.  When we are at the end of ourselves and knowing how to fix and manage the thing, this is when Jesus has room to come in with His power, strength, wisdom, and compassion to protect, fix, and do miraculous things. I don’t believe He views our weaknesses as something to look down on or shake His head at; I believe He views our weaknesses as beautiful opportunities to shower us with His grace, love, and protection and to impart His perfect strength into us and our circumstances. He shows us glimpses of the future as He opens and closes doors, the foreshadowing of eternity and of Himself as we have a front row seat to watch Him do the impossible and comfort and heal us when life doesn’t turn out how we had prayed it would.

It’s good to remember that He is the Master Weaver of our life tapestry. He sees the beginning, middle and end. He sees where our lives will intersect with another’s journey.  Perhaps the unique and specific strengths He has given us will be exactly what is needed to help someone who finds themselves in a place of weakness, where our strength is perfectly matched to their circumstances. 

Weakness doesn’t have to hold a negative connotation. It has much more depth than that. Perhaps it has a richness to it that speaks to humanity needing each other to get through life and to witness acts of kindness and heroics since we are all unique in our strengths. In another’s weakness we get the beautiful opportunity to be His hands, feet, words, and comfort. We also get to be on the receiving end of another’s strength. The tapestry of humanity is a lovely thing  that intersects and strengthens as we witness startling acts of bravery and kindness; a chance to bring hope. There is beauty to be found in weakness.

The Country Chapel

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The weathered white wood of the simple spire comes into view as I crest the gentle hill.

The narrow dirt road leading to the country chapel is overgrown with tufts of sturdy grasses and haphazard rocks. It’s rutted and a bit uneven from so many years of weather, shoes and tires making their way to church.

The land around the chapel is wild and untamed. Nature has reclaimed this place and surrounded it with beauty, as if cradling the abandoned chapel in lovely colors and peace, so much peace.  It feels protected and safe. The Creator is here.

Tall, wispy flowers and assorted meadow grasses bend and sway as a light breeze sighs through, bringing movement and faint whisperings of years gone by.

An old pine tree rises up just behind and to the right of the old chapel. The branches are thick and heavy with a few quirky curves to its old trunk. The old tree has seen and heard so much life, death, joy, and sorrow. The tattered remnants of a rope swing sway and shift with the breeze. Visions of ponytails sailing out behind the swinger with shrieks of joy as the swing takes its rider higher and higher! Freedom!

Looking up, I see leaves, sticks and a piece of bright red yarn entwined and fashioned into a sturdy nest settled into the crook of a branch. Humanity may have abandoned this country chapel, but nature still finds shelter and a home here.

Taking a seat on a weathered stone bench under the tree, I imagine these pine branches shading long tables of cold, homemade lemonade, tasty potluck dishes and desserts on a warm Sunday afternoon, as congregants share a meal and life together.  If I listen closely, I hear muted laughter and the sharing of gossip and recipes passed down through the years. Those family recipes will make an appearance at every potluck gathering. Belonging.

Becoming more accustomed to the sounds of silence, I hear bird song and buzzing bugs along with the creak and groan of the old pine settling and shifting with the breeze and old age. A fluffy, grey squirrel spies on me as it chatters and flicks its tail. One could sit here all day letting the imagination and nostalgia go where they will…

I make my way to the offset wooden steps of the chapel that creak and shift under my feet. The wooden door’s paint is peeling, and the bottom has been gnawed and scratched by a creature seeking shelter.

Inside the chapel the hush and silence are palpable. High windows are covered in dust and streaks with a few broken and missing panes, but the light that streams in is lovely and warm – like an invitation to come and rest.

There are ten rows of off-kilter pews on each side of the chapel with a few missing or cracked in places. A tattered red-leather hymnal lies on the edge of one. Some of the pages have been nibbled off and perhaps taken as bedding for a small creature that found safety here.

As I move forward between the rows, I notice one pew has initials carved into the wood, KC was here. Another has a stick horse and flowers etched into it. Lorraine loves James is written in orange pen on the back of one with some little hearts surrounding the words. Life was lived here.

The altar is simple and pure on its raised-up flooring. It appears to be handmade and sturdy. It’s beautiful. Echoes of sermons, wedding vows and funeral memorials whisper and float on the still, dust-moted air. The chapel may be abandoned but it’s holy and alive with memories.

I sit for a bit in the front pew and allow the peace, mystery, and silence of this old chapel to speak and heal. It does. The supernatural is afoot. It can be felt in the slight shiver that pricks the back of the neck and dances along the spine. There is no room for fear here; it’s lovely, divine, and healing. Beautiful.

The light begins to shift as the day moves on and I head to the side door leading out to the left. It’s loose on the rusty hinges and makes a squeaking noise as I push it open and go out.

A lopsided picnic bench sits in the shade of an old, gnarled cherry tree. The legs hidden by the meadow grasses – the keepers of this place.  Sitting in the shade, I take in the weathered boards, streaked windows and lonely cross that sits atop the small spire of this country chapel. I’m struck with the thought that the Father met with his beloved within those walls. He healed, loved, and wept with them. He rejoiced, danced, and comforted them. The sacred holiness of that still permeates and flits within those abandoned walls. But we mustn’t try to contain Him inside physical walls, exclusivity, strict rules, or joyless routine. No! He is found under the gnarled old tree where someone sat pouring out their deepest heart wounds and pain. He heard every word, healed, and exchanged the pain for joy and peace. He did this as the birds sang, wildflowers soothed with their beauty and the breeze took the prayers and cries tossing them up into His ever-open hands to receive, heal and restore. He isn’t tame, safe, or containable. His love is fierce, wild, joy-filled and all consuming. He can be found within the walls of a sweet country chapel, but just as often I find Him in the wild places with dancing wildflowers, leafy trees, creatures, and breathtaking beauty.

My time here is complete. So many lessons learned from the old and abandoned. This country chapel with its divine murmurs and lonely beauty spoke volumes to me as I sat in the memories, nostalgia and quiet. This old chapel and the nature that cradles and shelters it healed, comforted, and spoke to my soul in ways a spoken word never could. Divine whispers float and swirl all around us – may we have the ears to hear it and hearts to discern it.

Hometown

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

There’s only a few more miles to go until her exit. The familiarity of these bends and curves in the highway prick at her mind. In a comforting way it feels like a buttery old glove made of soft leather molded to your hand. It fits snugly and securely wrapping you in warmth and a thin layer of protection. However, if she’s being honest, she isn’t feeling very secure.  How many years has it been since she’s been “home”? Her nerves are a bit jangly and wiry, and she wonders at her decision to visit her hometown. Will it fill the void gnawing at her heart – that unsettled feeling of something unfinished and dangling, something needing her attention to bring closure and perhaps much needed peace. It’s a vague nuance of emotion that dances in her soul; twirling and spinning, beckoning her to explore and discover what’s sitting within her demanding attention. What is it that needs her to let go?

Sipping the last dregs of her Peets oat milk, light foam latte, Natalie rounds the last bend. Here is the slight rise in the highway with the old barn in the field to the left. It once was a rusty red, but with all the weathering it’s endured the color is now a dusty brown. The big sign hangs by a tilted chain over the arched entrance. The country lane leading up to it still has potholes and ruts. The name painted on the sign is kind of hard read, but Natalie knows it by heart – Whispering Oaks Farm. The small orchard to the right is still standing but my, how the trees have aged and gnarled and twisted.

Two dappled horses languidly munch grass hay in their tidy corral. Natalie remembers Mr. Jameson allowing her and her friends to bring apples and carrots to his horses. She loved the feel of their chin whiskers tickling the palm of her hand and the intelligence in their dark eyes.

Her exit is next, and she signals and slows to follow it down and to the right. There’s a stoplight now where there once was a STOP sign. Modernization! At the green light, she heads into town to see what else has changed.

So much looks the same. There are tweaks, updated signs and fresh paint on some of the storefronts, but most of the businesses look the same as when she left.  Almost imperceptibly, her grip on the steering wheel loosens. Her neck and shoulders drop as muscles unclench and settle a bit.  There is something comforting here in the old and familiar.

Parking along the street bordering the town square, Natalie steps out, stretches, and watches people entering the bookstore and the new-to-her café on the opposite side of the square. In front of her, people stroll around the grassy, tree lined park. Some have coffee in green cups from the café. Others carry restless children demanding to get down, so they can run, screech, and play in the small, shady play area. Still others sit and watch the world go by or read their books, absorbed in the tales being told.

Natalie walks the park, taking in the scent of the pine trees growing in a cluster at one end. Pine has always held an old, safe, happy scent. The splashing fountain is updated and much cleaner now. It is so cheerful in its bubbling and chuckling. She feels the corners of her mouth turn up and can’t help smiling with the happy fountain. She remembers picnics and cold sodas in the summer on the grass right here in this spot.

She sits for a bit to take it all in. She did have happy times here; she did have fun and felt like she belonged. She did… How long will she allow that one memory, with its wounds and startling betrayal to stifle her? Natalie was sure that moving away would force that memory to fade into the jumble of her fast-paced new life in a bigger city, with more people and chaos to drown it out. Maybe it did for a little while, but it never truly went away, did it? Is this why she feels such a draw and pull on her heart to be back here? Is it time to let that terrible memory go, so she can peek back in time with fondness and happy nostalgia, to the little town that formed her and grew her up? She has such a need to remember some peace and joy, some happy contentment without the roiling bitterness and pain flooding it all out. Yes. She thinks nostalgia and healing are what’s been calling to her…

Waking up before the alarm clock, Dominic feels a push to get moving this morning. It’s an interesting anticipation and he wonders what it wants from him.

With his morning routine complete, Dominic grabs his keys, wallet and phone and scoots out the door. On the way to the café, he remembers he needs oat milk; it is becoming quite popular, and he’s run out. Swinging by the neighborhood market to grab some, he notices a flat of bright colored lollipops by the cash register. For some reason, they catch his eye. Hmmm. These could be a fun addition to the pick-up counter. Dominic buys the flat, picturing the short, wide mouthed vase he will put these lollies in as a fun, catchy display. His long-time barista, Meredith, will probably roll her eyes and tease him for it. He chuckles as he figures out some brilliant comebacks to her good-natured ribbing.

Opening his shop, The Cuppa Café, Dominic gives it a once over, like he does every morning. He turns the hand painted OPEN sign facing out. “I wonder who will stop by today?”, he asks the pastry display.

The church that her grandma brought her to as a kid is down the street about two blocks from the town square. Natalie remembers the smell of wax, hymnals and a faint, flowery scent.  She reaches the steps to the church and takes it in for a few minutes, before trying the big double doors. It looks the same, radiating a welcoming sense of belonging. The white paint by the doors is scuffed and peeling in random places along the sides and near the stained-glass window. The church spire points up, up, up.

Her breathing feels easier and lighter; not so strained and constricted. Funny, she never noticed how hard it’s been lately to breathe deeply. Feeling a calm, lovely serenity beckoning her, Natalie opens the doors and steps into the chapel. The scent memory hits her, enveloping and wrapping around her like an old quilt. Safety. Comfort. Peace. The frenetic energy drains away as she sits on a faded, padded pew and rests. She rests mind and body, allowing her spirit to drink in the memories that pour forth. Healing memories. Church potlucks, kids’ choir, Christmas Eve services and VBS – where the teachers always had a supply of sweet, bright colored lollipops as prizes. Such happy times!

Delicious feelings and gentle memories smooth out the worn, cracked, bandaged up places in her heart; even that place where the wounds and betrayal are hidden is tended to with mercy, grace, and healing. It’s time to let go and allow it to be taken from her. She’s ready. Natalie lifts her head and notices dust motes floating above her, dancing and moving toward the beautiful stained-glass window. She imagines those motes as tiny balloons with wispy tails carrying the wounds and pain, ascending toward the gentle light to be kept and tended by Someone else now. Freedom. Joy. Nostalgia.

Her time in the church brings restoration and lightness. Nostalgia is healing. The old things and memories hold a special balm that soothes and brings clarity. This was her call to come home for a spell. A reckoning in her spirit that needed to happen, and it did.

Warm soothing coffee sounds lovely right now, so Natalie makes her way to The Cuppa Café. Pushing open the doors, the bright, roasty scent of coffee brushes up against her. A man in a green apron is adding scones to his pastry display. “Hi and welcome in!”, he calls. The barista named Meredith finishes rinsing some cups and hurries over to take her order of a large oat milk latte with light foam. “Hey, you’re in luck! I grabbed a big carton of oat milk just this morning on my way in”, Dominic tells her. Natalie smiles, nods, and waits as Meredith makes her drink. “Is it ok if I add a bit more foam to your drink?”, Meredith asks, “I have a new foam design I’d like to try, and it need just a bit more to make it look right.” “Sure,” Natalie says, “how fun!”

Walking to the end of the coffee bar, bright colors in a short, wide mouthed vase catch her eye. There is a sign propped up against the vase that says, “Take One.” Oh my…the lollipops. What in the world? Natalie carefully picks a bright yellow one.

“Here you go!” Meredith hands her the cup and turns to start on the next order. Heading to a nearby table, Natalie sits and looks in the cup. The carefully crafted foam design is a balloon with a wispy tail.  Her eyes mist. The balloon and yellow lollipop blur a bit. The way this entire day has blended in a perfect symphony of comforting nostalgia, healing release and budding joy, touches her heart and soul in a way she has never experienced. Compassion. Tenderness. Hope. Is it random alignment? She thinks not. Someone orchestrated this all for her. How well thought out and lovingly intimate are these little gifts she received today in her hometown.

Refilling the jug of Half ‘n Half, Dominic glances at the slight, brunette woman sitting by the window. He hasn’t seen her before and it being a small town, he notices. As he watches her looking at her coffee cup and the yellow lollipop she chose, he sees her eyes are over-bright and misted. There is deep emotion at play here and he feels like an intruder watching her.

As Meredith brushes past her on the way to the stock room, Dominic hears the woman tell Meredith how beautiful the foam balloon looks and how much she appreciates her decorating her coffee with something so precious.  Hmm. Interesting way to describe a foam design…

Dominic hears the woman push back her chair, and gather her purse, coffee, and lollipop. She stands a moment, then shyly approaches him.

“Hi, excuse me – where did you get these lollipops? I haven’t seen these in a long time. I know this sounds crazy, but they bring back good memories for me. I really needed that today. So, anyway, thanks.”

She hurries from the café and out onto the street. Dominic stands still for a few minutes taking in what she said. So, this is what the feelings of anticipation and purpose were about this morning; the reason these silly, spunky lollipops caught his eye, willing him to display them. Someone arranged this random encounter for a dark-haired woman who needed a reminder of good things and happy times. Standing in the middle of The Cuppa Café Dominic smiles to himself – I wondered who would stop by the café today. Who knew that latte foam and lollipops could be life changing?

Ascending

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

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.

Coming very soon…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Hi everyone! I’m excited! My book is very close to being published; waiting on a proof copy of the paperback to arrive. Once I see it’s just how it should be, Divine Encounters…will go live on Amazon KDP (eBook and paperback), Kobo, Barnes and Noble Press and Google Play Books. Here is a sneak preview of the cover and blurb.

When it is out there and ready I will publish again with the links.

I can’t wait for her to be out in the world, doing what she was meant to do!

Sanctuary

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Looking through my laptop this morning, I rediscovered this piece of writing. It is one of the first things that I wrote several years ago, when I started on a journey of healing, hope and restoration. As I re read this gem, I see that it was prophetic, in a way. This bit of writing was the starting point for God to speak to me and give me inspiration to write and hopefully bring healing and hope to others who might need to hear what He has to say. He had plans for me that I was unaware of at the time and it blesses me to look back, re-read this and see that He has been at work, preparing me for launching a book with His words out into the world. Only He knows who it will reach and how far the reach will be. So, just wanted to share this again. I hope you feel encouraged knowing that all the steps and paths and situations that come up in your life are in His control and He knows what He is going to do with it all. Here it is –

I sit in the sanctuary of my heart, still, waiting for You. I no longer fear what is and was in my heart nor try to deny it exists. You hold out Your hands to receive it – the damage, the sin, the struggles, the fear; the place where deep hurts and secrets dwell.  You are not afraid.  You smile as I hand them over; some quickly and with ease, others with hesitation and still others that take time, as I painfully and deliberately choose to release them to You, one finger at a time, one muscle at a time. What you do with these things of mine I am not entirely sure, but I do know You want them, every one and You, in Your abounding mercy and love, take them and transform all that I thought was lost, used up and devastated beyond hope, into a thing of rare and poignant beauty, so precious and sacred to You that Your Spirit hovers over Your redeemed and transformed work, nurturing it, breathing life, wisdom and power over it; releasing authority and boldness into it and forever changing me.

How can I be the same when Your holiness, grace, and sovereignty intercept me in my humanity, frailty, and poverty? Not possible.  To be in Your presence for but a moment leaves Your fragrance, Your taste, Your fingerprints everywhere!  How could this not be my greatest desire?  But…life, busyness and superficiality also vie for my attention and the battle is hard.  Yet, Your Spirit, which watches over the transformation is constantly at work even if Your voice seems distant.  You are still shouting Your delight over me, rejoicing above me and dancing all around me. Will I choose to still my heart and mind long enough to hear You speak in the wind, feel Your touch in its caress, catch Your scent in the flowers, dance before You with no shame? Will I be still long enough and choose to trust You enough to take my hidden hopes and treasured dreams and place them in Your outstretched hands? You placed them in my heart. You have given me visions, dreams, and desires too deep to name, yet You ask for them back.  Yes, I will give them to You. For You are good, You are faithful, You are truth. Only You can give wings to the plans You have for me. You say that “no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him.”1 I love You and want what You have prepared for me.  Because of Calvary, undeserved sacrifice, and mercy, because of love that freely flows from Your throne and pours into a scarred yet hopeful heart, I can sit here in peace and safety calling my heart Your sanctuary. Thank You for the treasure You revealed in what was once a lonely and desolate place. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

  1. 1 Corinthians 2:9

He will see to it

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

I wonder if this will ring true for you, as it does for me? Will it hit a tender spot in your soul? Will we give that tender, carefully guarded wounding to the One who can heal it? It may seem gloomy and dire at first glance, but reality always has that aspect to it, doesn’t it? I believe that in order to see light and some hope, the hard, rough, frail parts of life must be seen and known; openly acknowledged for what they are. It isn’t always pretty on the surface. Maybe if we go below the surface seen, a different kind of beauty will be there waiting; a different kind of rest. Provision. Peace. Stillness. Will you look with me?

I’m tired, I’m weary; some days weary to the literal bone. My heart and soul have questions that I know I will not get the answers to on this side of heaven. That is not what overthinkers want to hear! My mind strives and spins in search of the “whys”, the “should haves” and the “if onlys”. For me, in this season, it is the whys of illness and surgeries. When will it be enough? When can my body rest? When will I have some peace and silence? Silence from constant world-chatter, arrogant opinions, ruthless maneuvering and diagnoses that are unwelcome. It is also the whys of friendships that end, dissolve, fade; some slowly, methodically and probably expected, and others surprisingly abrupt and hurtful. Should I have done this or that? Do I let it be?

Worry and overthinking are beliefs that God will not get this right, whatever the “this” is for you and for me. It is belief gone wrong. I have to go back to what I know about the Lord. I have to purposefully shift my mind to remember His promises and character. It’s hard and deliberate and I don’t always want to make the effort. I’m worn out and angry. I have to look below the surface of all that is swirling and clamoring; the noise and chaos trying to lay claim to my peace and faith. I need to remember all the ways I have been healed and provided for; all the ways He has taken those things that I saw as evil and impossible and used them for good; miracles that only I have seen, but profoundly changed me. In times of loneliness, He has been so near and spoken beautiful, soul-deep words and promises that no human could provide, but Him; words that would have been drowned out by expectations of others and their views and opinions. It is remembering that not a single thing happens that He does not see and that He does not allow to first pass through His hands, before it can touch me, touch you. This remembering does not magically make the pain, loneliness and fear go away. We are still humans with emotions and breaking points, worries and tears. But…the Lord sees, He will see to it. The Lord always sees; you, me, what they did and didn’t do, how you were treated, what the Dr does and doesn’t say. The life-tapestry being woven for you, for me, is beyond our limited vision, but is always seen and hand crafted by a unique God-design that is never wrong, never too much, too little or inadequate in any way. It is just what is needed. It’s exactly enough.

Can we pause for a minute and listen soul-deep? Ah, the mysterious, lovely and precious things He wants us to know! Below the surface, there is good and beauty and it has happened, it is happening and intertwining in the midst of reality and God sees it all. He is calm and He sees. He sees the tired body, the wounded heart, the panic and striving, as well as the victories, joy and laughter. He sees what is coming in the next minute, the next month, in12 years. He will see to it. “The act of God’s seeing means God acts. God’s observing means He always serves. This is the thing: your God’s constant vision is your constant provision.” (1) Can you see it?

Here is the beauty of faith; we may not see the provision right away and at times it won’t feel like provision and tender care at all, but that honestly doesn’t matter, does it? If we have faith that He sees and provides, even if that faith is a tiny, dirtied thread that is tossed and frayed and tangled by life, we can trust we are well looked after and so well loved. Not easy, but it’s possible. Hope. If we hold on to the fact that every mountain we will ever face, the Lord will level with the right amount of grace, we will see that the Lord will provide. He sees you, He sees me, He will see to it. The Lord always sees and He will see to it. Rest is found here. Blessed, beloved, beautiful rest.

(1) The Greatest Gift, Ann Voskamp