healing

The Tapestry

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The wool threads display the richest of 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, un-stoppable, 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 in this place. Laughter and grief intermingle and twine about each other in a dance that is gorgeous, fierce, and 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. All the 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 in 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.

The old barn

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

I glimpse it from the country road. It’s down the next gentle curve, off on a little used side road, possibly forgotten; full of ruts, some potholes and waving, faded wild flowers; abandoned yet peaceful. This calls to me. So beautiful.

Turning off the road, I follow the pocked and tumbled lane, carefully maneuvering, following the faded track to the old, falling down barn. It’s graceful and lovely. There is history here. Stories abound within these wind and weather scoured timbers. I need to see it, feel it, breathe it in.

Pulling off the jutted lane, I stop the car, quietly get out and just stand a minute. Absorbing, listening, watching. The silence begins to speak and it is a beautiful language, the silence. I know it well and it feels like a comfortable old quilt; old, wise, full of life and so many possibilities. It has so much to say; and the wisdom – the wisdom gained from silence is not lost on me.

To the left of the ramshackle barn, an old oak tree still casts shade and shadows; it has weathered much. A thick, frayed rope swings lightly in the breeze. Maybe a tire swing hung there, propelling its riders on so many adventures; the freedom of flight!

There’s a bird house tacked to the upper part of the old oak that’s seen better days. Part of the tiny roof is missing and something has gnawed a small hole in the floor of it. Someone, a child perhaps, painted a welcome sign above the bitty door to the birdhouse. Welcome Home, it says, in faded orange paint. Closing my eyes, I see and hear the many families this old house has sheltered through the years. Mamas and babies and the first tentative attempts at flight; the swooping, diving, bug catching and seed collecting. Nature doing its thing in a never ending cycle.

Standing in the silence, I hear a cheeky giggling, bubbling coming from the other side of the barn. A creek! Gingerly making my way, I brush through tall meadow grasses and an assortment of wild flowers that have claimed the long forgotten space. The happy water-sounds call to me. I find the creek and simply watch for a bit; listening and observing. I don’t know the origin of this pretty creek. It snakes through the gentle rises and falls of this land, making its way to the destination meant for it. It is not daunted by obstacles. It goes over, under or around as it can; it always finds a way and there is always a path for it – an end-point. I wonder if it knows that it carries so much life in its twists and turns and frothy bubbling. On the quieter edges, I see tiny fish gathering in the sunny spots and darting away as my shadow falls on them. I think I see a crawdad and I hear a wood pecker hammering on the old oak. I spend some time here by this creek. The joy in the nature-chatter of it makes me feel happy and somehow ancient and in tune with Mother Earth.

The abandoned barn still beckons and I respond. I imagine it in its heyday. I think it was a reddish color, but it is so weathered and sun and wind burned that it’s exact color is hard to determine. How proud it must have looked when it was first erected! I picture pick up trucks full of neighbors and wood and nails, helping build it. The lively shouts and laughter as they worked together must have been comforting and friendly. Was there a barn raising party here after the work was done? It’s big enough inside that I envision a long trestle table filled with vittles and cold lemonade and ice water. Comradery. Life lived and protected under the timbers and beams.

A rusted old pitchfork is leaning jauntily against what looks like an old stall. Did a horse live here? The railings are falling down and a couple are broken and jagged. Further in, old withered ropes are looped on lichen covered hooks and a broken-down wheel barrow sits. There is a remnant of loft beams overhead, long tumbled and rickety. A hole in the roof speaks of heavy snows that over the years weakened and dashed the beams. How lovely, quiet and breath-taking this barn must be, covered in the powdery white of a snow-fall. I will be back to see that.

Large tufts of grasses, a ripped old sack and abandoned hay look to be patted down, in the left side corner of the old barn. A creature finds shelter here, warm and safe, despite the battered look of this old barn. Looks are deceiving. The barn’s skeleton and frame are still useful and needed. Life is still very much present here. I find that comforting. The outer glory and flash of this barn may be diminished, but it still shelters. It is still needed, but in a quieter and gentler way. Roof beams directly above me have been claimed as home by birds. I can see the nests, abandoned at the moment, but ready for the return of nature; all in its perfect timing.

The large, half cracked open door at the back of the barn, hangs on dilapidated hinges that have their fair share of rust; parts of them just holes, eaten through by time, wind, heat. I carefully make my way to that door. There on the side beam that forms the support for the door, is the name Jill, written in squiggly, nail-cut writing. There is a heart and a cat and a smiley face etched nearby. This barn had stories and adventures lived out inside it’s walls. I wonder if Jill told this old barn her secrets; are they contained in the walls and the beams?

The wind picks up a bit and through the chinks and cracks, it whispers and sighs. Its breath is new and fresh, yet has all the undercurrents of time passed, secrets and hints of the supernatural Divine. The old and ancient, ramshackle and run-down have so much to teach us. Nothing is entirely as it seems on first look. What appears to be abandoned and useless often carries far more than the passing glance reveals. Life needs the old things. Cracked and weathered beams still protect and teach and shelter. There are safe, soft corners that can be missed if overlooked.

A squirrel chatters nearby and a bird trills and scolds. I give another look and listen to the old barn. It is time to go. I won’t soon forget this old barn. What a welcome detour it has been, this reconnection to the silence and healing of the old, time-worn and abandoned. “Thank you,” I tell it. “I will be back.”

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

The Lake

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The path around the lake is a bit overgrown, but navigable. I wonder whose feet last hiked this trail. What were they hoping to find here at the lake, nestled in the mountain meadows? This path is not new; scuff marks from countless boots have worn a soft pathway in the alpine meadow, gently leading around the deep blue-green water of the lake. I am alone here with the only sounds being my feet, as they lead me along to my favorite spot and nature, doing its thing. Birds call and snicker to each other as I pass by, dipping and darting over the water as they snip up the buzzing, whirring insects that make the lake and tall grasses their home. Parts of the path are cool and shady, winding along under the forest canopy; then sneaking out into the open meadow with wildflowers nodding and swaying, as the breeze passes through, sighing through the canopy, and stirring my hair.

The banks of the lake are home to such diverse life, with the nooks and hollows filled with myriad water skippers, boatmen, pollywogs and tiny fish, darting and spying, as I lean down to get a closer look. How can one lake hold the life of so many creatures and plants in its watery, silty hands? Carefully kneeling, I notice the lake rushes rustle and shiver, as a creature makes its way though the slippery murk at the edge of the lake. It is totally immersed in the tall, wet grasses; hunting, watching, doing what it was meant to do. Is it a muskrat? I become as still as I can and quietly watch and wait…then yes, I see its long brown body gracefully dip under water. Bubbles breaking on the lake’s surface give away how swift he can swim, as he heads to his den in the lake bank. I have a feeling I will be carefully watched.

Moving again along the path, I pass by a cold and deep looking spot, right along the edge of the lake. There is an old, long since fallen pine tree along the banks and I wonder what fish may live in that deeper, dark part. Has a fellow hiker ever cast her fishing line in, hoping to hook a big trout? Looking carefully around the fallen pine, I notice a shallower area with sunlight filtering through the trees and spot a large crawdad, his orangey-red pincher motionless. Has it spotted me? Finding a long, slim stick, I gently submerge the tip and try to touch that claw. It is too fast for me and darts under part of the fallen pine. I smile and tell it I am sorry for disturbing its rest and get up to move along the path.

My destination on the lake is coming up soon. Just a couple more twisty turns under a low hanging branch and up and over some high raised roots and I am there. My spot is at the edge of the meadow that curves and moves along the edges of the lake. There is a sweet little mountain stream that winds its way down the slopes and forest floor, and feeds into this lake. I love this place the most. Swinging off my light backpack, I bring out what I need to get comfy here. A thick blanket, water, some vittles and my book, that probably will not be cracked open. The blanket is large enough to accommodate the various positions I may choose, as I sit, lie, stretch out and soak up my spot. The babbling, chatter of the stream as it flows, dips and rushes past forest debris, rocks and flowering plants makes me happy. It is cheerful, chatty and constant, yet completely soothes and refreshes my tired soul, as it chips away the debris of life. It leaves a tender, slightly raw place inside that revels in the solitude of nature, babbling streams, throaty frogs and cricket symphonies; gossipy, scolding birds, slithery, earthy sounds and the busy, buzzing insects. And the smells, oh the smells! Earthy, fresh and that distinctive lake smell – part mud, part plant, part fishy, part flowers and pine. It smells new, yet ancient, all at once and it is lovely.

I got an early start this morning, so have most of the afternoon ahead of me to be still, listen, daydream and let some of the heaviness go. I have needed this for a while. I am ready to soak in whatever the Creator has for me here by the lake. My mind wanders to Psalm 23, “…He lets me rest in green meadows; He leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength.” Renewal. Yes.

The wind has begun to sigh and whisper through the trees, as it will in the late afternoons. My signal that the sun is starting its trek to the west and sunset will soon be here. Packing up, I take another long look at the stream and the lake, drinking in my afternoon of peace and restoration. Heading back along the trail, I smile and speak aloud, ”It is well, it is well, with my soul!”

Where are you?

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Life is filled with questions on a daily, sometimes minute by minute basis. Sometimes, for me, questions make me prickly and feisty. I don’t always like them because sometimes, the question I’m being asked forces me to think or re-think my point of view or assess my current thoughts, actions, ideas. It makes me take a hard look at where I am.

I recently started a Bible study by Beth Moore called The Quest. The very first week, Ms. Beth asked four “recalibrating questions” that have the ability to transform our walk with Jesus and to greatly increase our intimacy with Him, our prayer lives and boost our trust. They are designed as an opportunity for us to talk to Him, to be as raw and real with Jesus as we are willing to be with Him. According to Ms. Beth, “These divine questions have the potential to recalibrate and reignite a walk with God that has gotten off track, stuck in a cul-de-sac or has lost steam or our interest.” These questions are actually questions that God Himself is asking us and are found in the Old and New Testaments.

So, here is a challenge to you, if you are game, over the next four weeks:  find 5-10 minutes per day to take the question God is asking you and answer Him. You will get out of this, as much as you put in.  Journal the answers, pray it out, meditate on it; however you are lead. We are all in different seasons, so do what you can and trust that God will respond back to you, as you pour out your heart to Him. He is faithful. He loves you. Your voice in His ear is beautiful music.

I hope you will find healing, hope and intimacy with Christ, as you honestly talk Him and answer the question below. Remember, He already knows the answer. He wants intimacy with you. Not who you wish you were or dream about being; not who you compare yourself to or act like you are when others are watching you.

Question #1! Here we go!

This question comes from Genesis 3:9 (NLT) “The Lord God called to Adam, ‘where are you?’” If you need a quick context refresher, please read Genesis 3:1-9. In the Bible study, Ms. Beth asks us to switch places with Adam and let this divine question, from the very mouth of God, land on us. I firmly believe He is asking us this question over and over again. Hear Him ask you…

“Where are you, child?” Are you in a relatively good spot right now, with things humming along like a well-oiled machine, all the parts of your life working pretty well? Is your family, your job, ministry, hobbies, all moving forward at a good pace? If this is where you are, tell Him and rejoice and be thankful for that blessing! Pour out your gratitude and tell Him about all your hopes and dreams for what is to come.

“Where are you, child?” Are you in a valley that seems a bit monotonous and, dare I say, boring? Does life seem to be plugging along with the same-old/same-old things, without much excitement? He sees you in this place that appears to be a long and predictable holding pattern. Tell Him about it. Tell Him your desire for something new and exciting. Talk to Him about giving you bravery and courage for what is coming. He can give you peace and patience that you need for this season.  Remember, He is ALWAYS working on your behalf; organizing, shifting, and setting good things in motion.

“Where are you, child?” Maybe your season is one of pain, disappointment and heartache and you wonder if He is even there or even cares. Maybe it feels as if He has forgotten you, and your desperate prayers seem to float and drift, never landing at His feet. If this is you, tell Him! He reads your thoughts and knows every hurt and every wound. He can handle whatever you pour out to Him. Tell Him all of it, the raw, the ugly, the desperate; all the anger and deep disappointment. Nothing touches you that has not first been sifted through His hands of love, goodness and healing. It’s ok to turn the question around and ask God, “where are You?”

Now, go and get with your Father! May this scripture from Psalm 139 encourage you and powerfully remind you how very known and loved you are!
Psalm 139:3-5 and 17

You chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment you know where I am. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord. You both precede and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.

How precious are your thoughts about me, O God! They are innumerable!

Some things cancer taught me…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

April is a big month for me. On April 26, 2012 I celebrated a HUGE victory. That is the day, at 2:15 pm, I was told, “You are cancer free!” After being diagnosed with an aggressive breast cancer in November 2010, I began surgeries and treatments that ended in April 2012.  

As this anniversary date approached, I had many things running through my head; random memories of the cancer center and that “one of a kind, not found anywhere else” smell; the taste of the peppermint candies I sucked on to keep the horrible taste of saline and chemo out of my mouth; the blanket I brought to keep warm during treatments and comfy pink slipper socks. I can still hear the sound of radiation equipment being dialed into place. It was such a lonely feeling being alone in the radiation room, as the technicians went behind layers of safety walls, and I lay there exposed, cold and numb, willing the machine noises to stop; hoping I wouldn’t burn.

Good memories also pop into my mind of my faithful husband going with me to my treatments while the meds flowed in; or when a friend kept me company during a long treatment. The distraction of good company meant so much to me, even though I knew it was hard for them and uncomfortable. There are the memories of my little 2nd grade boy telling me to hop on his bed, as he tucked me in with blankets and got out his books to read to me. Blessed. Loved. Precious. I treasured up in my heart when my 6th grade girl would tell me about her day and the ups and downs of middle school; feeling so blessed that she shared with me; praying so hard that I would have years and years ahead of me to just listen to her talk to me.

Through all of this, I learned I am physically strong, as my body fought with everything it had to beat this invader named breast cancer. It endured extreme treatments, nausea, steroids, exhaustion and hair loss, but never stopped fighting. God gave me the strength to make it one more day, through one more test, one more treatment. He did it. He is absolutely faithful. His eyes never left me and His tears mixed with my own as I would cry out of fear, rage and frustration; when I wondered if I was going to die.

I see my body through a different filter now. I am proud of my scars. They shout out that a battle was waged and won. I want to be strong and healthy, so I do what I love – hiking, biking, swimming and all things outdoors.  I want to enjoy every single second of life I am given. If my son asks me to go get ice cream, I will. It’s a memory we are making and it makes me happy that he wants to share it with me. So I will eat ice cream and I will not worry over whether or not I will look ok in a swim suit because of it. I am alive and that is enough. Our days are numbered and I want to take advantage of each one with those I fiercely love.

I am mentally and spiritually stronger, as well. Despite days of deep sadness, fear of the unknown, rage and brain fog, I told myself I would get through this; that cancer would not win and that God would not give me more than I could handle. I knew God would be with me through every test, every treatment, every bit of good and bad news. I held on to that and He proved Himself faithful and merciful and compassionate. Yes, it was the hardest thing I have ever done. Yes, it put my body, mind and soul to the ultimate test, but I am an overcomer and I am victorious in Christ Jesus.

During other trials that have come along since this cancer diagnosis, I have looked back on all that Jesus brought me through.  It gives me strength and courage to face the trials that I know are coming. Life is hard, unpredictable and unfair, but I have found that if you look closely, you will find nuggets of joy and hidden treasures of beauty in everything. It is there just waiting to be discovered, but you have to look for it, change your filter from a victim mentality and choose life; choose to find peace, hope and sweetness in whatever is swirling around you. I promise you it is there. I remind myself daily, sometimes minute by minute, that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. It is only by His strength, love and healing that I am here to live another day and breathe another breath. It is His breath in my lungs and as long as I live, I will give Jesus the praise, honor and thanks due Him. He saved my life and changed my perspective. I am thankful. I have another day to live and my prayer is that I leave everyone better than I found them. Peace and love, readers.

Everything

~ Extravagant Hope ~ 2 Comments

This song by Lifehouse (lyrics below) has been running through my head for a couple of days. I find this song profoundly beautiful and deeply moving; almost to the point that I cannot explain it with words. When I listen to it, goosebumps rise up all over my skin and my spirit awakens and rises up; tears prick my eyes and my heart beats stronger and faster. This is a song I can put on repeat. The lyrics resonate with me so deeply, because I have experienced these emotions and responses to Jesus described in this amazing song. I desire to hear Him speak and long for His words; it is a deep need in my soul and when I do hear Him, peace fills me up; I rest and have the strength to keep walking and trusting Him.

There are several specific times in my life that I look back on and know, like I know, like I know, that it was ONLY Jesus that kept me going each day; only His presence, only Him holding me in His hands and letting me rest that literally kept me afloat. There were times that I didn’t know it was Him carrying me through the storm, until it was over, and frankly, wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with Him.  Nevertheless, He saw through the pain and fear, right into my hurting heart and gently lifted me anyway. I’m His girl and He wasn’t letting go.

During my years of battling an aggressive form of breast cancer, He was the only hope I had to cling to and He never once failed me. Never once. The weeks and months that I don’t remember, because of a haze of medications used to keep me from the sickness of treatments, He was there and held me in His hands. I have scars, yes, but I’m proud of them. It reminds me of where I was and where He brought me. Survivor. Overcomer. Victorious.

During other dark times, He was the light that led me to a place of healing, peace and safety. Fully protected; never out of His sight. Thoughts of Him do take my breath away! He has stolen my heart and I’m not ashamed to say so.

Life has things in store for me and those I love that will be hard, painful and seem very unfair. I know this. However, I also know that Jesus has walked this suffering before me, He knows, He understands, He heals and He restores. He brings joy and peace into situations where there shouldn’t be any.

He is all I want, all I need. He is everything.

Everything

By Lifehouse

Find me here, and speak to me

I want to feel you, I need to hear you

You are the light that’s leading me to the place

Where I find peace again

You are the strength that keeps me walking

You are the hope that keeps me trusting

You are the life to my soul

You are my purpose

You’re everything

And how can I stand here with you

And not be moved by you

Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?

You calm the storms and you give me rest

You hold me in your hands

You won’t let me fall

You steal my heart and you take my breath away

Would you take me in, take me deeper now

And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you

Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?

Cause you’re all I want, you’re all I need, you’re everything, everything…

Hurt and Healer

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

I have been feeling a bit nostalgic lately. I’m dealing with some health issues that are coming to a head soon with some tests and procedures in the works. Maybe that is triggering memories of my cancer days with surgeries, radiation, chemotherapy and biotherapy, when I really didn’t know what the outcome was going to be and if I would be healed.

Music has always had a tremendous impact on me. When nothing else can reach that deep place or describe my feelings, music has always done that for me. It is a gift that I am so grateful for and that I hold very dear to my heart. To me it is God’s mouthpiece to my soul.

During the most intense times of my cancer treatments there were many songs that spoke to those places in my heart that were weary, afraid and overwhelmed; songs that spoke peace, hope and safety to my soul.

This song, The Hurt and the Healer, by Mercy Me is one of those that I clung to tenaciously and listened to over and over again, multiple times a day sometimes; declaring to myself that even in the midst of my deepest fear, pain and hurt, Jesus is there; the Healer colliding with my hurting body and heart, whispering to my soul that one day this will all be understood and made clear. I know that one day I will hear Jesus say, “It’s over now.” That brought me such hope! I know that whatever I face and whatever scars I’m left with, He will use for good and His glory; to bring hope to someone who has run out of steam and needs to know it will be ok. If this is you today, soak in these words and promises from a God that sees all, hears all and watches your every move, cherishing you and catching every single tear, bringing you healing in unexpected and beautiful ways. His arms are open wide.

The Hurt & the Healer”

Why? The question that is never far away

The healing doesn’t come from the explained; Jesus please don’t let this go in vain

You’re all I have, All that remains

So here I am, what’s left of me, where glory meets my suffering

I’m alive

Even though a part of me has died; You take my heart and breathe it back to life

I fall into Your arms open wide, when the hurt and the healer collide

Breathe

Sometimes I feel it’s all that I can do;  pain so deep that I can hardly move

Just keep my eyes completely fixed on You

Lord take hold and pull me through

So here I am, what’s left of me, where glory meets my suffering

I’m alive

Even though a part of me has died; You take my heart and breathe it back to life

I fall into your arms open wide, when the hurt and the healer collide

It’s the moment when humanity, is overcome by Majesty

When grace is ushered in for good and all our scars are understood

When mercy takes its rightful place and all these questions fade away

When out of weakness we must bow, and hear You say “It’s over now”

I’m alive

Even though a part of me has died; You take this heart and breathe it back to life

I fall into your arms open wide, when The hurt and the healer collide

Jesus come and break my fear, wake my heart and take my tears

Find Your glory even here, when the hurt and the healer collide.

-Mercy Me

You can find the video to this song on youtube.

 

A letter from Jesus to you…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

To the one I so dearly love:

Someone I deeply love and adore has made mistakes. Someone I love needs to have faith that despite these mistakes, they are My delight and joy and that I will never leave nor forsake them. Nothing will ever separate us. Nothing and no one. My love and forgiveness are unconditional. I know how hard that is to grasp. Don’t try so hard to understand it in finite ways; don’t try to put Me in a neat and tidy box; just trust Me. I am more than what is seen, heard and explainable, but I am a safe place to rest and find peace. Place all fear, worry and troubles at the foot of My Cross and then leave them there. I am in control. I know how this all ends.

Someone I love knows in their heart that they have strayed far away from Me; taken a path I never intended for them to walk. Those consequences are hard and it hurts. Someone I love is feeling broken and ashamed. I long for this dear one to remember that there is no condemnation for those whom I hold in My hands.  Trust Me when I say that I  have come to heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds. My arms are wide open; just turn towards Me and come. The heart knows the way; I’m calling My lost one home.

Someone I love needs to focus on Me and believe that I will walk with them through this difficult journey they are facing; through these circumstances that have blindsided them; hit them hard out of nowhere.  I am right here. My arms are strong and My feet are steady. I will carry My precious one when they need Me. I will hold them in My hands; I will catch every tear.

Someone I love needs to remember that I am their Healer, their Redeemer and their Salvation; that through Me, their sins are washed as white as snow.  I see them as lovely and graceful; of great value and worth, because I died for them. I keep no record of wrongs. I am so very proud to call you Mine!

Someone I love needs to be reminded that My love endures forever, through the good times and the bad. Someone I love needs to know that I am here, and I am listening. I see every joy and pain, every failure and every victory.

Someone I love needs to believe that everything will work out according to My will, and that if they trust in Me, I can use what was meant for evil, for good. Scars are evidence of my Healing. Scars are beautiful in My sight.  I delight in restoration!

Someone I love needs to be reminded that I have plans for them; plans to prosper them and not harm them; plans to give them hope and a shining future. Be at peace. I am in control. All is well. It will be okay. Talk to Me. A heavenly bear hug is waiting!

All My love and peace to you- your best friend,

Jesus

 

 

Divine Exchange

~ Extravagant Hope ~ 2 Comments

Maybe this time, I tell myself.  I can do it.  I’m strong, I can handle this.  I strain to see.  I try to remember how it looks, but it’s been a long time.  A primal knowledge in my soul tells me that I need to see it, must find it again, but things are obscured through the webs; my vision seems cloudy and I can’t clearly make out the shapes in the strangely filtered light.  Frustration wells up inside as the heaviness settles back in to take the place I’ve given it. When did that happen?  Did I give it permission?  I used to hear, but the sounds I’m searching for are muffled now in my ears; very faint and far off; disturbed by an odd rattling, scraping sound. Frustration, blindness and confusion; is this where I’ve settled?  “Maybe if I get up and move around I can get a better view; this odd lighting is the problem, “I decide.  With that decision made, I make my move to stand and am confronted with the source of the rattling, scraping sounds; thick, heavy, rusted chains.  My chains.  Mine.  I can’t get up and move around for a better view, because I am bound to this place of filtered light, muffled sounds and intolerable frustration.  Why? When? How?  Panicked, I struggle and fight, then in exhaustion I slump down in defeat.  Tears begin to fall from my eyes and spatter down on the ground all around me.  Am I bound here forever? Is there no escape, no way out?  Dark images flicker across my line of vision; stealthy movements threaten and mock.  Is that faint laughter I hear?  I didn’t start out here, bound like this, in chains like a condemned prisoner.  Who put me here? What did I do?  “Please,” I call out, “someone, will you help me?” I don’t belong here.  I want out.  “Someone, rescue me!”

I hear faint movement coming from all around me.  The dark shapes are shrouded by the obscure, filtered light, but I sense them coming closer, bold and violent; mocking in their approach.  “Help yourself,” one hisses in my ear, arrogance and fear scenting its breath, mocking laughter flowing from its tongue.  As hopelessness starts to fall, I look more closely at my surroundings. I am elevated on a mass of circular stones with faded words written on each one.  They are carefully arranged and set just so, in a small clearing.  Like an altar.  All beauty has been methodically wiped away, revealing only dust, barrenness and grotesquely twisted roots, thrusting up out of the ground.  The harsh loneliness of this place is terrifying.  Wait…I can see more clearly now; this used to be shadow-like and obscure, but now I sense the light shifting; brighter, clearer, full.  I don’t like what I see.  Webs from something horrid and smothering have been woven around, above and below my prison, trapping me; altering my view; skewing my perspective.  “Lies,” a Voice gently says, “lies that have kept you snugly ensconced on your altar of self.”  Altar of self.  Yes, that is exactly what this is.  As recognition of my pridefully built, self imposed prison floods my awareness; I realize that I cannot get out on my own.  I have locked myself in.  Trapped.  The mocking laughter swells and I feel the heaviness trying to descend again, the weight of my chains pulling cruelly at my limbs.  I am at the end of my self.  ”ENOUGH!” I shout.  “Please, Jesus, You have the keys…set me free!”

The mocking laughter is silenced by my words.  The atmosphere shifts and grows completely still, except for a deep vibration I feel surging up from the altar on which I stand, as it cracks in two. I look down and see a clear stream of water gushing out from that crack.  You stoop down and scoop the water in Your hands and offer it to me.   I see the silvery scars on Your hands and a song I can’t name, but deeply understand, floods my soul.  Thirst quenching.  A divine exchange is taking place here and my cracked altar becomes the catalyst.

The sounds and scents I have longed for begin to reach me.  Sweet laughter, gentle voices, Spirit breath, heavenly song.  Delicate and powerful, they flow all around me, bathing me in sounds and scents so sweet and pure that my breath comes in gasps; expelling the dust and debris that accumulated in my spirit as I worshipped at the altar of self.  I again breathe You in deeply, richly, slowly.  Freedom bathes me, ministering to the wounds inflicted by the stones named Fear, Pain, Loneliness, Pride, Rebellion, Abuse that I used to build my altar.  I feel lighter, clean, loved.  Heavy, rusted chains break apart and fall away from me.  I dance before you with abandon, unashamed, cleansed; my weakened muscles growing stronger and more nimble.  The heaviness is gone and a gentle, but vibrant spirit of praise now clothes me.   “Climb down, child, get down off of your broken altar.  Take the stones with you; they have a purpose to fulfill here.  There is something you need to see again.”  I fill my white robe of praise with all of those stones. Somehow they all fit.  I follow You out of the clearing where that altar once stood. As I go, new life is sprouting up. The gnarled roots of bitterness and rage, rejection and vengeance are sprouting into lovely trees of forgiveness, peace, Sonship and humility.  “Stop here, beloved.  Now You must use these stones to build your steps leading up to My Cross.”  I look up at the Cross and it speaks to me of ultimate sacrifice, profound mercy, joy indescribable, unmatched beauty and plentiful grace, even grace for one who built her own altar of self-protection. Tears of gratitude and love wash over my face and spill down onto my hands as I build those steps. It is hard work.  My building stops at times, as I find a tenacious tendril of frustration or pride trying to creep in over and around my stones, but I rip it out with Your strength in my hands.  As I lift my stones into place, I notice that where my tears have fallen shoots of brilliant green are pushing their way out of the rich soil.  As the sprouts emerge, You bend down and I see You writing something in the dark ground and I hear You speaking tenderly to the new sprouts. Your voice is the nourishment they need as they continue to grow. You rejoice over the harvest that only You can see.

My steps are built. They are placed firmly and deeply into the ground at the foot of Your Cross. Engraved by Your hand on that first step are the words Nisi Dominus Frustra.  “Come up, Daughter.  Come up higher to the very foot and find rest. Up here is what you have been searching for in vain.”  I ascend those steps in anticipation. As I come closer, I stop for a moment and look back down, surveying where I started.  My tears watered what You divinely planted and I see beauty stretching out below me and Your Cross is beauty before me.  I feel a shout that I absolutely cannot for the life of me contain, rising up in my throat, so I shout! It is a shout of pure joy, a song from my spirit to Yours.  A harvest will be reaped from my pain that I never thought I had a right to know. It is a beautiful inheritance.  It is You.