Life is unpredictable. We go into each day not knowing what is waiting for us. Will that prayer finally be answered, will that hard conversation go the way we want it to, will this health issue be resolved, can we just get some peace, will our loved one be safe?
Right in the center of this unpredictability is Jesus. He’s good, steadfast, true, and omnipotent. He has everything concerning you well taken care of.
The chaos that swirls and looks for a way into our hearts is held at bay when we reach out and take His hand. Fear must bow, anxiety must quiet, control must release its vise grip.
The lovely, gentle, glimmering thread of Hope that binds us to Jesus is protected and cherished. It can’t be broken or snipped by the vagaries of life. It is our strong and holy connection to the heart of Jesus.
Hope trusts that He’s got you, will never leave you, is always with you. You can’t be snatched up.
The holy, sacred, mysterious thread of Hope is tethered in His power, compassion, and deep love which cannot be taken away.
As the Creator spoke you into being, crafting every nuance of personality, eye color, and skin tone He sang over you as He put the finishing touches on His Masterpiece. He called you good, cherished, beloved, worthy. His child.
The song He sang swelled and flowed into your spirit infusing the tiniest parts of you with each note. It’s holy, mysterious, and unique. There is no other song like it – heavenly breath poured out over you, calling into being what wasn’t, into the divine purpose and plan He has just for you. There is no one like you. You are needed.
On an ordinary morning, as the sun rises over the hilltops you hear your song in the way the birds sing that one note that brings you such joy. Intentional.
You catch wisps of your song in the way the afternoon breeze shushes and sighs in the top of the Redwood trees – nature singing to you the very song He breathed into you. Peace.
On a dark summer evening the crackling and snapping of the campfire gentles your mind as your song fills you with safety. Rest.
The wild and fierce crashing of ocean waves onto rocks brings deep feelings of connection and reminders of His unrelenting love that follows after you always. You are seen.
Listen as you go about your days, in the sacred and the ordinary moments, for nature singing your song. He is everywhere and He is always with you. He causes creation to sing His love song to you and refreshes you with breezes that call to your spirit. Deep calls to deep as He sings to you in the silence when there are no words to speak. It is sacred. Mysterious, divine, holy.
There is comfort and so much hope in this verse. Before the Earth existed, God was there. He is with you as you read this verse, and He is already in your tomorrow. His eyes are on you.
You are not lost in a crowd of millions and your voice doesn’t get drowned out by someone louder or histrionic.
You are seen and deeply treasured. Maybe sit with that for just a minute? Let it soak into your spirit. 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.
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.
The house is silent tonight. Firelight flickers and logs snap in the woodstove. Tucked in and cozy under the quilt I feel peaceful. The only light is from the snickering fire and the Christmas lights strewn along the mantle glowing warm and soft. The small nativity scene nestled among the gentle light is beautiful. The Savior, Light of the world, Prince of Peace came for me all those years ago. He’s still coming. It wasn’t a one-time thing.
Every day He comes for me and He comes for you. The healing, the protection, the peace, the hope, and the rescue; it never stops. It renews and is reborn. His pursuit of us in the midst of the mundane and the ordinary, the fiery trials, the seasons of running from Him, the times of quiet rest, and the brilliance of joy and victory will continue until the appointed time when God Most High welcomes us Home.
This season of Advent is mysterious, supernatural, holy, and beautiful. I’m in awe of it all.
Sitting quietly before Him in the silence and peace of His presence, my heart feels full, safe, and full of hope, so much hope.
I’ve been thinking about blessings lately and the different forms it can take. This excerpt from Divine Appointments… talks about blessings and the different ways it might show up in our lives.
“Some blessings come after the hurt and wounds. The Divine often shows up in miraculous ways, turning devastation into glory, failure into victory, wounding into strength, and the impossible into something to be remembered in awe and reverence because there seemed to be no good ending, yet there was.
To live blessed, we need to be alert and seek it out. It won’t always show up immediately. Blessings may not be dressed up in blissful happiness and a cute outfit. Blessings may come dirty, scuffed up, straggling, and a bit off-kilter, but they will come. I have seen them come in both forms—equally holy, sacred, and consecrated. Blessed.
I want to live with an extravagant hope expecting blessing. I want to bloom where I am planted and thrive, no matter what it looks like. Holy, divine, sacred, and blissful happiness is all around, waiting with open arms for us to slow down and seek it. What is sought will be found.”
Proverbs 19:21 NLT “You can make many plans, but the Lord’s purpose will prevail.”
Are you a planner? I am. I love plans and lists. I like to know what’s coming. It makes me feel safe and secure, as if my plans and schedules can keep blindsiding circumstances, conversations I’m not prepared for, or situations that require a quick response at bay until I can rehearse, plan, and plot how to circumvent or control it all.
I love this verse, but it’s also challenging and it is hard to wrap my mind around it. Of course I want the Lord’s will to prevail in my life and the lives of those I love. I know all the reasons why His will is best. He’s omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient. He knows the number of hairs on my head, the deep, inner workings of my heart, and the wounds I carry in my spirit. He had a plan and divine purpose for me before I took my first breath. He is never far from me and I am deeply loved. Yet…
My need for control and protecting myself from chaos is strong and tightly woven into my heart. I have experienced quite a few blindsiding situations and each was devastating in its own way, leaving scars and fear in the aftermath. However, through these situations, I have learned and embraced that God’s presence never left me in those times. His will and ways were always perfect, shaping me into who I am now. These things allowed me to live out my purpose albeit with scars; reminders that I pushed through things meant to derail, wound, and cripple me.
I treasure in my heart the lessons learned. Above all, I discovered that Jesus is safe. He is good, He is compassion, He is my Warrior and Protector. I learned, and am still learning, that I can trust Him with me and that is a lesson I would not trade for a smoother life-road. His ways and thoughts are higher that ours. His plans are good and perfect, but not without scars that are a constant reminder of our healing. We can plan, be wise, and discerning as we look ahead, but ultimately His plans and His purpose for you and for me will prevail and it does bring comfort, peace, and rest for a plotter and planner. Trust Him. He won’t fail you. You are loved. Peace be with you.
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.
Extravagant Hope 