As the new year approaches, let’s trust that God has us and will never let go. We can’t see what’s unfolding for 2026, but He can. He’s there preparing the path before us, making a way around, over, and through whatever comes our way. May we overflow with joy, peace, and love. May it splash over onto everyone we meet.
The Gifts wait with anticipation in the incense-filled room. The voices of the beloved rise and fall in a constant blend of timbres and tones, each voice precious, seen and so very loved. The Gifts love to watch the Creator as He gently lifts and listens to each request, praise, cry for help. Sometimes there are no human words, but utterances of the Spirit as deep calls out to deep. These are the voices of His precious ones. Each one cherished. As He lifts each voice and holds it carefully in His hands, He sings and prophesies over it. The Gifts thrum with excitement as they await His command. With a nod of His head, Peace is sent forth. Descending from the heavenlies, Peace makes a way through the swirling turbulence of humanity to the dear one asking her Father to please blanket her in His peace. Gently surrounding, above and below and on all sides, Peace wraps up the precious one and whispers the words to her spirit that it was sent forth to proclaim. She feels the soft warmth begin to soothe and soften her fearful heart. It is supernatural, this sending forth, as Peace simultaneously, yet personally, ministers to thousands of souls at once – the Father’s voice and love flowing down and through and within each of His children. Mystery.
Next to descend on a golden shaft of light is Joy. With excitement, Joy finds the man who calls out for relief. He is stuck in the never-ending spiral of his daily grind. He wants to feel alive again, so Joy dashes in with bursts of lightness, humor and the beauty of hidden blessings revealed.
At times, the sounds of the rising voices make the Father smile. The Gifts love to see how attentive He is to each and every soul. No one goes unnoticed. No one is lost in the crowd of millions. Each and every voice is completely unique, designed with forethought and purpose; none better than the other, all equal and perfectly loved. There are also times that He weeps with those who mourn. The tears that His beloved cry are never wasted, not one single tear drop. He knows the origin and reason for each one. He meticulously collects them and safely places them in lovely crystal jars that have an eternal purpose and plan. They will not be wasted.
The next Gifts sent forth are Protection and Healing. These two often travel together. They descend on a powerful beam of light piercing evil and darkness. These Gifts find the ones ensnared and tangled in chains, fear and illness. The Father infuses these gifts with His authority, power and love. Chains break, strongholds crumble, illnesses flee and darkness bows. Gentleness and abounding Mercy follow Protection and Healing, as hearts, souls and bodies are healed, restored and led into His Light.
Discernment and Wisdom respond to His command and travel on gentle shafts of light seeking those who are lost and alone, overwhelmed by choices and clamoring world-voices. These Gifts infuse the overwhelmed soul with calm, direction and clarity straight from the Father’s heart. The webs and twisty-looking paths that shroud the way forward are made clear, as the debris and obstacles of self-reliance are rolled away. Trust accompanies Discernment and Wisdom, as those coming out of the shadows need Trust to clearly hear and follow His voice.
Patiently waiting, Rest is summoned and joyfully descends on a beam of light infused with lovely colors. Rest flows like a sparkling creek and carefully washes away the busyness and exhaustion that covers so many of the beloved. The weariness of fixing, controlling, worrying and rehearsing piles on and sticks to His loved ones like a balm of good works that has gone rancid. In the beginning, the balm feels soothing and necessary, but as rest, peace and joy are sacrificed by the doing and the helping, the balm becomes suffocating and immobilizing. How beautiful it is to see the caked-on debris slough off in the stream of living water that beckons the weary one to rest in green pastures. Victory.
From His omnipresent vantage point, the Creator watches and is pleased as His love-gifts, in radiant light, descend continuously and purposefully to His beloved. He intimately knows where each and every shaft of light is going and declares that these Gifts will not return to Him void but will accomplish all that He desires and declares.
There’s something lovely about the rain, isn’t there? That moment when the first anticipated drops touch your face, hair, eyes. Refreshing. It brings joy, despite a fully or partially cloud-hidden sun, trying to peep through. You know it’s there, the sun, but it’s hidden. It’s a bit mysterious to wonder what the sun might be up to up there, veiled from sight.
Or hearing those first drops on the patio cover in the wee morning hours; pattering, plopping; like a sky-song flowing down. So soothing, as I lie in bed. The blankets covering me, I am enveloped in warmth and safety, listening to nature’s lullaby.
Sometimes the dreary sky and rain damp air offers the unmistakable scent of clean; washed and rinsed; a sort of gentle, yet sometimes fierce and unrelenting, opening of the heavens; as if Creator is gifting a new start, a clean slate. All is well, the old is gone and here is the new. Life giving water. Living water. Ancient and elemental.
The sound of the faithful pattering, dripping and beating of a good steady rain soothes and gentles the spirit and often my hectic mind, with nature’s rhythms; like an intentional chorus put on repeat. Truly one of my favorite sounds and scents.
Something about the rain dredges up childhood memories of wildly exciting, yet terrifying thunder and lightning storms, windows rattling and trembling. Such an electric feeling of exhilaration and fear, joy and safety; intertwining emotions that shouldn’t mix well together, but they do, when nature moves and does her thing. It is deep and wild. I love it.
Memories drift up of hot summer days, when a sudden rain storm cools and refreshes with the unforgettable scent of rain on hot sidewalks. That is childhood.
Something about the rain and wind and the slashing at trees, rose bushes and the apple tree reminds me that not everything in life is predictable and controllable. It’s not tamable and quieted and soothed, but roars and bucks and thrashes at the whim of the One who commands it. There is such beauty and raw power there. It is thrilling and terrifying; beautiful and fierce and unrelenting as it does the Creator’s bidding, yet it draws me in. Nature, all of it, in its pure undiluted elemental form, nourishes my soul like nothing else. It’s a God-gift I treasure and ponder. The mystery of it speaks depth to my soul. I will never get enough of it. There is just something about the rain…
There it is again. I feel it rising up from somewhere deep inside. It is difficult to describe, but there it is all the same. I want it to have a name. Somehow that will make it seem safe and predictable, possibly even controllable. However, it is anything but safe and predictable, most certainly not controllable. It is pressure that builds and needs a release; a cry from the deep that can only be satisfied by an answering calm, a gentling of the urgency; a whispered word, saying “Peace, be still child; how very close I am to you.” It is birthed in quiet moments of meditation and worship, where time ceases to exist and I know I have Your undivided attention. It is a place where my voice, my love and the groaning of Your Spirit, mix and intertwine in the Heavenlies, bringing delight to Your heart; setting into motion things I could never comprehend. It is so beautiful, yet not safe and certainly not predictable; uncontrollable. This it comes surging up as I fall to my knees in awe of all that You are; knowing that the small bit I know of You is almost more than I can bear. To know that there is more, that You are richer and more brilliant than my most vivid dreams frightens me, because that, too, is not safe, is not predictable and cannot be contained. No, it is holy, a consuming fire, pure and wild; it’s more fierce and passionate than I can handle on my own.
At times, it swells up when my fingers finally release their death grip on what I knew all along I could never control or hold onto, yet almost died in the trying. I hear it in the sound of chains falling and walls crumbling, as another stronghold tumbles to the ground; the scent of victory overcoming the stench of defeat. It comes as a wave, a pounding of the heart, as Your anointing falls when obedience calls and is answered with “Yes Lord, here I am.” It is there when the howling loneliness calls out for filling, clawing in desperation until Your presence is given permission to enfold and permeate the void. I sense it’s presence when joy unspeakable and peace that passes all understanding snaps like a banner in the wind, high above the circumstances and distractions of life, proclaiming that Jehovah Nissi is my covering and victory, shielding me with love.
As I wait in Your presence, I am beginning to understand what it is. It is desire for You so indescribable it hurts, a needy emptiness that can only be filled by all that You are. It is the craving my spirit discerns can only be satisfied when I am forever in Your presence for all eternity. It is an obsession that keeps me hungry and thirsty for revelation and wisdom; for truth and a startling intimacy found only with You. No, it isn’t safe or predictable; it’s certainly not controllable, but I know it will be with me until I see You face to face. I am learning to love it, not fear it, to embrace the wildness and fierceness of it. I will welcome it with open arms and tender heart. Its name is yearning.
Extravagant Hope 