Live In The Light

1 John 1:5-10

Here is the message we have heard from Christ and now announce to you: God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all.  So if we say we have fellowship with God, but we continue living in darkness, we are liars and do not follow the truth.  But if we live in the light, as God is in the light, we can share fellowship with each other.  Then the blood of Jesus, God's Son, cleanses us from  every sin.

If we say we have no sin, we are fooling ourselves, and the truth is not in us.  But if we confess our sins, he will forgive our sins, because we can trust God to do what is right.  He will cleanse us from all the wrongs we have done.  If we say we have not sinned, we make God a liar, and we do not accept God's teaching.

(c) Holy Bible, New Century Version, 2005


The word "light" here is used as a symbol of God's goodness or truth.  Darkness would be the opposite - i.e. Satan's evilness and lies.  Living in the light allows us to fellowship with God Himself.  To me, this is mind-blowing.  There is something I can do that puts me in fellowship with the One who created everything.  He is so far beyond anything I can comprehend, and yet He says he'll fellowship with me. 

I encourage you - live in the light.  He gives us grace to do so - you don't have to do it in your own strength.  Trust Him, pray to Him, live according to His word.  It's worth it.

Not Ashamed

Psalm 34:1-5, Contemporary English Version:

I will always praise the Lord.  With all my heart, I will praise the Lord.  Let all who are helpless, listen and be glad.  Honor the Lord with me!  Celebrate His great name.  I asked the Lord for help, and he saved me from all my fears.  Keep your eyes on the Lord!  You will shine like the sun and never blush with shame.

 I have led a life that is far from perfect.  I have sinned, sometimes unintentionally, and sometimes deliberately.  I've had experiences that filled me with intense shame.  But even the worst of it all fades away when my eyes are fixed on Him.  When my gaze is steadily on Him, His glory and holiness and the love He has for me over-rides my own perceptions and beliefs, and I see myself as He sees me.  I am redeemed, chosen, called.  I am his child.  And most of all, I am loved.

People can tell when I've got my eyes fixed on Him.  When my attention is on God, and His love for me, my face changes.  During those times, I get told repeatedly by others that I look so good, that they can tell I'm doing well.  When my gaze shifts, and I'm looking at the world or myself, people ask me what's wrong.  It's a spiritual principal with natural, tangible, visible evidence.

Where is your attention?  Where are your eyes fixed?  How can you tell?

I'm Alive

Ephesians 2:1-10, NIV

As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient.  All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts.  Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath.  But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions - it is by grace you have been saved.  And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.  For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast.  For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

This passage means so much to me.  I don't know about anyone else, but I know that I personally slip into legalism sometimes.  I'll do something I shouldn't do, or I'll neglect something I should do, and I'll start to feel un-saved.  It's just a feeling, but I know that if I don't counter it with scripture, it will take root in my heart, invade my thoughts, and if it continued unchecked, I would convince myself I was no longer saved at all.  My salvation causes obedience.  Obedience does not cause my salvation. 

What distortions do you battle in your own life, and what scripture do you use to contradict them?

It's Not About Me

I have a confession to make:  I have been chugging along, moving through life, and slowly, a lie has crept in.  That lie?  "I have sinned, therefor I am no longer blameless in God's eyes."  Yes, that lie really did try to find a place in me.  I wasn't aware of it; I just knew I had a vague discomfort and lack of trust.  It's only been through reading my Bible that that lie has become clear. 

Two verses really spoke to me, and are what made it clear to me that I've let an untruth start to take root.  1 Thessalonians 5:23-24 says,

God Himself - the God of peace - has sanctified me through and through.  My whole spirit, soul, and body will be kept blameless at the coming of my Lord Jesus Christ.  The one who calls me is faithful, and He will do it.

Did you catch that?  God Himself has sanctified me.  Not me.  It's not my works, it's His.  Don't let the devil sneak in and alienate you from God who loves you.  Don't be ashamed; be bold.  Know that HE will do it.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 - He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the human heart, yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

I have often pondered eternity.  In a way, I get it.  It's, like, forever.  It never ends.  It just goes on and on and on... but at the same time, I don't really get it.  How can something simply never cease?  But it's there, in my heart - I "know with my knower" that it's real.

And for today, that is what I am thinking about.  Where will you be spending your eternity?

Take My Breath Away

Many are saying of me, “God will not deliver her.”  But You, LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. 
I call out to the LORD, and He answers me from his holy mountain.
~Psalm 3:2-4

There are moments in life that take my breath away.  Beautiful moments. 

Like the day my nephew Israel was born, and the first time I held him close to me. 

Or the day my daddy walked me down the aisle at my wedding.  He was wearing his flip flops and I was wearing... nothing on my feet.  I had heels but they hurt so I left them in the back of the church.  I kept looking at my daddy's face.  He'd see me looking and his smile would get bigger still.  And then mine would.  And then his would. 

And then I looked up and I saw my husband.  Derek is absolutely, without a doubt, 100% in love with me.  Do you know how amazing that is?  To have someone so loyal, so committed, so passionate?  To not have any real fear of abandonment or even harm or neglect?  It will take your breath away, just for a minute, when you realize that there is someone who feels that way about you.

Other moments... walking along a path in the woods, crying privately about the recent death of my Gramma.  Knowing I would wait the rest of my life before I could be reunited with her.  Aching and broken and trying so hard to be strong.  And there, on a snow-covered branch, with big flakes floating all around me, was a flawless cardinal singing so sweetly.

Looking to my left and seeing my dad and my Kelly and my husband and my dad's friend Charlie, all beaming.  Looking in front of me and seeing my friends and instructors.  Raising my arms up so that a black belt could be tied around my waist... less than a month after getting out of the hospital with my hand, and 8 months earlier than it was predicted I'd be able to even START training with my leg again.

Trying to teach a very happy 10 year old how to do some ground-fighting.  Trying to be serious.  Starting to get annoyed with his unstoppable laughter and unyielding smile... and finding it suddenly pouring out of me, too.  Laying next to him on the mat, just laughing.  Looking into his black, almond-shaped eyes, at his tan skin and a smile so big it looks like it almost hurts... and realizing that the isolation and resignation and sadness have faded away.

Hearing my closest and dearest friend after Derek tell someone that I am a good, good friend.  That I would be a strong place for them, that I could hold them up during a hard time.

Those moments take my breath away.

Seeing lines of clouds in a deep blue sky, with fields of hay rolling in the breeze and birds singing. 

Watching the hillside behind our house blinking with so many fireflies it seems impossible.

Coming in softly late at night, and watching my husband sleep.  All the tension gone from his face.  Gently kissing him, pulling the covers up over his shoulders.  His mumbled "I love you" that is so deeply ingrained, he says it even in his sleep.

Sitting on the back of a horse for what would be her last full-speed run... ever.  And what was my first full-speed run with a horse, ever.  And feeling for just a moment that I was somehow joined together with this animal who CHOSE to obey me, and that the world rushing by could not touch me.

Tiny, sticky arms wrapping around my waist as two young boys dash across a restaurant to greet me.  Spaghetti stains left on my shirt from their faces, and warmth spreading through my heart with their "I love you" still fresh and new.

Feeling my pocket vibrate and hearing the strumming of a guitar, telling me that my daddy - my hero, my protector, my friend - is calling me.

Those moments, take my breath away.  Not for long, but briefly.  Just briefly, I am too full of so much good, and I don't have room for air.

And then there are other moments.

Watching a young father gently pick up a tiny, tiny white coffin that holds his newborn daughter.  Watching him walk, alone, down the aisle of the church while my heart exploded with grief and love for that child's family.  Watching that man slowly sink to his knees at the back of the sanctuary as tears poured and his shoulders slumped.  Watching him rise up again.

Driving too fast for too long in order to make a cross-country trip in time to attend a "brother's" funeral.  Feeling my heart explode with new grief as I notice one of the pictures by his coffin - it was him, holding his baby girl, before she went to heaven.  Dreaming so vividly of him stronger even than he was here, with his giggling daughter, dancing in heaven.  Seeing his bride comforting those who came to mourn this wonderful man, and vowing not to cause her any more grief or hurt... knowing I would bear all of her pain for her if I could.  Hugging her and suddenly feeling the crushing weight of what she was facing, and being so unprepared that I began to cry.  Forcing a smile as I said to her, "My heart is broken for you, for your kids, for all of us who will miss him.  He is in heaven, and we WILL meet him again." 

It took my breath away.  So intensely that I wouldn't have been surprised if I had physically turned blue.

Standing with a camera, as requested by my Grandfather.  Taking pictures silently, as he bent to kiss my Grandma goodnight.  Hearing him tell her she was beautiful.  That he loved her - that he'd always loved her, from the first time he met her.  Watching the back that had always been straight and the shoulders that had always been square slowly droop.  They've dropped further in the years since.  And when I look at him, it takes my breath away.  This man has known death, has known grief, has known financial hardship, has carried personal burdens that he is afraid to put down... and what did he choose for the inscription on the grave site he will someday share with his wife?  "But you MUST be born again."

I relived that moment when the film came back.  All you can see is the flowers around the coffin.  The middle of the pictures is completely white.  It takes my breath away.

Seeing a still, perfectly formed but not-beating heart on the ultrasound screen before the technician turned it away.  Falling to my knees in the bathroom of a convenience store on the way home, and crying out to God in sheer, broken anguish.  A month later, getting "lost" in the Black Hills with my husband.  Still waiting for my body to release its hold on our daughter.  And being filled with a gentle peace that did not remove the sadness, but made it easier to bear, as we sat beside a mountain stream surrounded by millions of tiny blue flowers, and tiny blue butterflies.  Anna's flowers. 

It took my breath away, to be so broken and so at peace and surrounded by both beautiful life and ugly death.

Watching my friend be blasted financially, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.  And seeing no end in sight.  Knowing I cannot fight this battle for him, I cannot take it on his behalf.  And loving him so deeply that I would.  I would take every last bit of it, if it would take it from him.  Watching that friend give up over and over... and over and over, renew his fight, renew his vow to NEVER give up.  Knowing that I am so blessed... to have my husband, my daddy, my friend... men who treat me with respect and love and honor and gentleness, and who defend not just me, but everyone around them.

Walking into a nursing home and having tears start welling up and my throat clamp shut when I see a strong, intelligent man curled up like a baby in the bed, having shrunk drastically in such a short time.  Wondering if that day, he'll know who I am or if he'll once again thank me for being kind enough to "visit a stranger."  Kneeling down to hug him, and feeling his hands soft and warm gripping my hand and around my neck, holding on with every bit of strength left in his failing body.  Feeling his tears wet against my cheek, and hearing him whisper thank you.  Trying to stand strong, maintain composure on the way out the door.  But unable to stop the ache inside, and unable to stop myself from imagining that it will be my dad in that bed some day.  Breaking inside for him, and for his children, for his wife.  Knowing that the burden he carries, the aching and sorrow that come when a parent buries a child, aren't fading along with the rest of his memories.  Knowing that soon, he'll be with his son in heaven... and that his other son will be here on earth and will be more broken than he's ever been.  And knowing I'm powerless to do anything more than be present.

It takes my breath away.

Watching my husband walking the same difficult path I walked down myself just a few short months ago - the path of genuinely and fully grieving the fact that all of our children live in heaven, and not here.  Facing the very real probability that we will not raise any of our biological children here on earth.  And hearing his stifled sobs as he does what I've been doing... and reads a childrens' book about heaven.  As he gets the truth of eternity ingrained more deeply into his heart, giving him the strength and courage to feel the temporary loss here and now.

Seeing so vividly that it seems as if it's playing out in front of my eyes, an image of that daughter who went to heaven.  Seeing her holding my Gramma's hand and beaming as they wait for me at the Eastern Gate.  Remembering Gramma's soft promise, made each night that she tucked me in.  "Make sure you look for me in the Rapture, Jenn.  It will be beyond description.  But if I beat you to heaven, I promise, I will meet you at the Eastern Gate."  Aching for that day with every fiber of my being.

Knowing that in Heaven, there is so much.  And loving my life.  But wanting so much to just be done.  To go there, and be with my Jesus.  To see my Grandma smile, to hear my childrens' voices.  I wonder if my uncle Paul is a carpenter there?  I wonder if Gramma takes care of kids who get there before their parents?  I wonder what it's like to truly and eternally be free of oppression.

And it takes my breath away.

And when I have no breath, when life squeezes the air out and I am at the end of myself... I remember these words from Job, chapter 33.

"The Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life."

It's April 17th.

Today is April 17th.  When I woke up this morning, my phone was blinking.  It was telling me something. 

I let myself think about him... about Roy.  And his wife, Carman.  And their three children.  And about how Carman is still living life and having joy.  I prayed for her, and the children, that they'd know the strength and hope that only our Father gives us.  That they'd never lose sight of the fact that the day is coming when they'll be reunited with Roy.  And that they'd live life to the fullest, today and tomorrow and every day until our Lord returns for us.

You see, today is Roy's birthday.

He went to heaven in 2007.  I remember that phone call so clearly.  It was Sunday morning, and Derek and I were standing outside our tent in that early-morning mist, half a country away from home.  And we got that call... our 'brother' died.  It ripped at our hearts and we knew we had to get home.  Get home and be with our 'family.'  There may not be any legal relationship to these people, but they are blood-brothers, having chosen Christ as Lord.  We drove, and drove, and drove... it was a long, rough trip, but we did it. 

It wasn't that long after my Gramma died.  I feel like we (Roy's legal and biological family, and I) have grieved together.  And I pray that today, they are where I am.  I pray that they can think of him and smile, even though their hearts are a little sad.  I pray that there is peace and hope, not sorrow.  I pray that they feel whole again.

1 Thessalonians 4:15-18


For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord will by no means precede those who are asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words.

It's Not Me - It's Him

It seems like most of the time, life involves trying to prove something to someone.  There are tests, requirements, standards which must be met or exceeded.  We go to first grade and our efforts begin to be graded - not based on our actual abilities, but on the way our performance adheres to certain standards. 

Truth is, it's exhausting.  And it contaminates our thinking and beliefs regarding our God.  At least, it contaminates mine, and I've seen the contamination in the words and actions of so many others that I've lost count.  Maybe it doesn't impact you.  Maybe it doesn't carry over into your faith, into the one thing that will matter for eternity.

It seems like we look at our lives, and see the short-comings, and think either one of two things:

 -"I have to try hard, do more, be better, or I will never make heaven and God will never accept me."
 -"I cannot possibly succeed, cannot possibly be good enough... I've already messed up so much, what is the point of even attempting to do any better?"

Okay.  I know what a lot of you are saying:  "No, it's not that black and white."

And you are right.  It isn't that clear-cut.  At least not on the surface.  We rationalize.  We tell ourselves we aren't being extreme so it must be right.  Do any of these thoughts sound familiar?

 -"I know He forgave me for lying yesterday, but today I did it again.  I'm out of chances."
 -"I am worthless."
 -"I won't actually make it to heaven."
 -"I cannot continue this way.  I am done."
 -"I can't do this.  What is the point of even trying?"
 -"I know this is wrong, but I am already condemned so why does it matter?"
 -"I give up."
 -"I will never win."
 -"I am captive."
 -"I am not really saved.  If I was, I wouldn't really (insert the thing you battle most)."
 -"I have to do (insert ideal that you hold in your mind and/or heart) so that I can be accepted by Him."

I don't know.  Maybe the emails, the questions, the comments that I have received represent a dramatic minority of those who trust Christ for their salvation.  I doubt it though. 

Read Colossians 2, verses 11-14 with me:

Entering into this fullness is not something you figure out or achieve.  It's not a matter of being circumcised or keeping a long list of laws.  No, you're already in - insiders - not through some secretive initiation right but rather through what Christ has already gone through for you, destroying the power of sin.  If it's an initiation ritual you're after, you've already been through it by being baptised.  Going under the water was a burial of your old life; coming up out of it was a resurrection, God raising you from the dead as He did Christ.  When you were stuck in your old sin-dead life, you were incapable of responding to God.  God brought you alive - right along with Christ!  Think of it!  All sins forgiven, the slate wiped clean, that old arrest warrant cancelled and nailed to Christ's cross.

Look at these words.  Just look.  Do you know what they mean?

They mean it isn't up to you to earn salvation.  You don't have to earn your way into favor with God.  There isn't a test or a set of standards that you have to conform to before He will love you, before you can become part of His kingdom.  It's already been taken care of.

It isn't you.  It's Him.

**Disclaimer: I am not suggesting, not even remotely, that sin in our lives does not need to be addressed.  Our actions and thoughts are to conform with the Word of God, and we are to try our hardest to make that happen.  What I am saying is that our failure to be perfect isn't what we're going to be judged or charged by.  The thing that will determine our guilt or innocence for eternity is Him and what He did.  Not us and what we did.**

But what about those things that consume us?  What about the sin that we vow every day to never repeat, and then the next day, it happens again?  What about the thoughts we can't seem to capture.  The intentions that are not pure, the fear, the anger, the hurt? 

What do we do with the things that our adversary, the devil, has stacked against us?

Colossians 2:15:
God disarmed the principalities and powers that were ranged against us and made a bold display and public example of them, in triumphing over them in Him and in the cross.

Did you catch that?  The devil, and his minions, those powers and principalities that are out to destroy us, have lost their ammunition.  They are disarmed.  No war can be won if one side is armed and the other is not. 

But wait.  Yes, this says the other side is disarmed but if we have no weapons, then how can we win?

Read Ephesians 6:17
Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God.

The principalities and powers get disarmed, and we get a sword.  Seems like we will win.  It may take us a while to figure out how to actually use the sword.  We might not remember we even have it sometimes.  But we do.  We are armed; they (it, he, etc.) are not.

We win. 

The fight is hard.  We take hits.  We fall down.  We fall short.  Our technique is flawed and our courage sometimes fails.  We may wave our white flags and we may fall to our knees, believing we are defeated.  It can hurt, it can be overwhelming, it can be terrible and frightening sometimes. 

But He (Jesus) said to me, "My grace, my favor and loving-kindness and mercy is enough for you; it is sufficient against any danger and enables you to bear the trouble manfully (successfully and with strength).  For my strength and power are made perfect, fulfilled, and completed, and show themselves most effective in your weakness.
(2 Corinthians 12:7a)

He can handle our weakness.  He planned for it.  He paid for it.  It's already been dealt with.  Those areas where we simply can not, He can.

It's not us.  It is Him.

So what do we have to do about it?  What's is expected of us in response?

Hebrews 4:14-16 answers that:

Now that we know what we have - Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God - let's not let it slip through our fingers.  We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality.  He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all - all but the sin.  So let's walk right up to Him and get what He is so ready to give.  Take the mercy, accept the help.

I'm running out of steam for tonight.  So I leave you with this final statement:

Yes, I believe we are required to act upon what He did.  I believe our faith isn't truly faith without actions to back it up.  I believe we should live the best lives we can and strive to be free of sin.  But I also believe that when we stand before God Himself, the thing that matters most isn't going to be us, but Him.

Because it's not me.  It's Him.

Colossians 3:1

Since, then, I have been raised with Christ, I set my heart on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  I set my mind on things above, not on earthly things.  For I died, and my life is now hidden with Christ in God.  When Christ, who is my life, appears, then I will also appear with Him in glory.

I remind myself of this today.  Today, I am not the only one missing a child.  I am not the only one who knows my child is in heaven, but does not know the color of his eyes or the texture of his hair.

I have a friend who is missing his child today, too.

It is a secret, painful ache.  One that people don't run around talking about.

"Hey, Bob, what's up?  Me... oh, well, I'm just thinking an extra lot about my dead children today."

Right.  When is the last time someone admitted such a thing to you?

That's what I thought.

So today, rather than talk about my friend or his child, I will talk about me.  Because if you know about me, you will know about my friend.  And you will know about Suzie and Matt, and you will know about J. & C., and M. & J., and S. & J., and R. and J., and T. & E., and L. & F., and so many more - and these are just people in my life.  I am sure there are just as many in yours.

There are parents who knew their child.  Who looked into his or her eyes, who stroked his or her hair, who prayed desperately to not have to say good bye.  Parents who have stood before a tiny coffin, tears streaming. 

There are parents who have paid all the fees, filled out all the papers, been approved on every level... and who must spend the rest of their earthly lives knowing their child (or children) will never come home because for whatever reason, the adoption never came to fruition. 

There are parents who met their child briefly... tiny babies, babies too tiny for life in the world.  Babies with beautiful souls and eternal spirits and no breath.  Babies who spent minutes, hours maybe, here on earth.

There are parents who have not met their child.  Parents who knew the child was on the way, and parents who didn't.  Parents who found out later, or who knew right at the moment, that a tiny life was leaving this planet and going to "a better place."

Some of these parents have children on earth, and are told to "just be thankful for the children you do have."  As if they do not have, and never had the child or children that are already in heaven.  As if one child replaces another.

Some of these parents do not have children on earth, and are told to "just be thankful you don't have to do the work of parenting.  Be thankful you can do whatever you want."  As if raising their children would have been hurtful.  As if they didn't want to raise their child.  As if pain and sadness were what that parent really wanted.

Today, I ask you to do something with us.  With these parents who have children who don't live on earth, but live forever in heaven.  You may or may not be one of these, but that doesn't change my request. 

Picture us in heaven, with our children.  Don't worry about getting the hair color or eye shapes or smiles all right.  I suspect that in heaven, these things are not going to be so important.  Just picture us together.  See that in your heart.  And remember this togetherness, in perfection for all eternity.  Remember this is what His perfect will is. 

I leave you with this... an image generated by a just-for-fun website.  If aging were to proceed in heaven as it does on earth, our children would be four years and seven months; four years and two months; three years and nine months (twins); three years and four months; and our recent twins were due in August of this year. 

Truth is, it hurts.  It always hurts.  But when I close my eyes, and picture our family of nine walking through eternity together, it hurts less.

Stars. And Him.

Last night, I spent some time with a good friend and my husband.  Then my husband went home and I got to chatting with said friend and ended up staying pretty late.  Then I had the 35 minute drive home.

It was so quiet... no other cars (I saw one, in 35 minutes.  A county sheriff on patrol who followed me for the last 5 minutes of my trip.  I assume to run my plates out of boredom.).  The sky was so clear, with little patches of steam and smoke rising up from houses.  No lights other than in the one tiny town I went through. 

The stars were so bright.  It was so cold and so still that they didn't really even twinkle.  Everything looks bigger that way.  And there were meteors.  Lots of them.  Just as I reached the top of the final hill, a particularly large and bright one flashed into view and trailed further than usual.  It was one of those rare moments when you look up at just the right instant; one of those moments that burns vividly into memory and can be recalled at will.  Or maybe you need to think in pictures for that to happen?  Regardless, it did.

I got to spend those 35 minutes worshipping and praying.  "God time" is the most special time... to be able to communicate with the One who created the entire universe is just so... humbling, and beautiful, and amazing.  It is a time when I can express myself, yes.  But more than that, and better, is that He can communicate with me.  Peace.  Joy.  Hope.  Assurance.  Correction.  Rebuke.  Love.  Most of all, love. 

Do you know how amazing that is?  That One who can created everything, Who knows all, sees all... that that One loves me?  It is something that is irrevocably true, and yet... and yet, I cannot wrap my mind around it.  HE loves ME.  Wow.

Psalm 8
LORD, our Lord,

how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
in the heavens.
Through the praise of children and infants
you have established a stronghold against your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.
When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?
You have made them a little lower than the angels
and crowned them with glory and honor.
You made them rulers over the works of your hands;
you put everything under their feet:
all flocks and herds,
and the animals of the wild,
the birds in the sky,
and the fish in the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.
LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Courage to Live.

There is one emotion that I truly despise.  One emotion that in my eyes truly robs people.  One emotion that stifles growth and in so many ways, inhibits really living at all.  It can cripple, immobilize, and destroy.  It breaks apart relationships, ends dreams, and can even stop hearts from beating.

Fear.

We are not made for fear.  The Bible tells us 365 times to "fear not."  Once for every day of the year. 

But what about those moments that make our pulse raise, our temperature rise, every muscle tensed and ready?  Is that sin?  Is it wrong to feel fear?  It's a question I've asked myself so many times... and I admit I do not have an exact answer.

I think it might be.  Before you get upset... follow me for just a minute.  1 John 4:18 tells us that "there is no fear in love, but perfect love casteth out fear; because fear hath torment.  He that feareth is not made perfect in love."  If fear is a sign of imperfection... than it cannot be of God, and cannot be "right." 

Unfortunately... we are all flawed (Romans 3:23 - all have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God).  We live in an imperfect, sin-infested world.  This side of heaven, we must fight to do what is right, and we often lose the fight (if we fight at all). 

That said... there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1).  I would not dare, for even a second, to condemn someone because they are afraid.  In fact, there are things in this world that are pure evil.  Things that do wrack us with fear.  Mostly, death and the process of dying.  Indirectly, at times - being afraid of a financial situation,or where we will live, the start or end of a relationship.  Ultimately, it doesn't really matter why we are afraid. 

What matters is the presence of courage.  Courage is what sends us running toward the gunshot, so to speak.  It is what inspires greatness.  It is what gets us out of bed each morning and it is what enables us to learn new things.

It is not the absence of fear.

Courage is a choice we make.  It is choosing to act a certain way regardless of fear.  For some people, courage is smiling along with their cancer-ridden child.  It is in taking a deep breath as a coffin is lowered into darkness.  It might show up when a person stands before a review panel or when he or she kneels before the altar of God.

There are as many opportunities to choose courage as there are moments in life.  It looks different every time, but we can recognize it anyway.  Sometimes it is as much a surprise to the courageous one as it is to anyone looking on.

But always, courage lets us live.  Yes, actions buoyed by courage do sometimes lead to death.  Running into a burning building to save another; serving in the armed forces; waiting until the last minute to give birth in hope that a tiny child's lungs will develop just a little more. 

But it is courage that allows us to truly live.  Without it, we would not stand on top of mountains.  We would not stand with our arms outstretched to soak in the fury of a storm.  We would not laugh, we would not cry, we would not love.  We would never take a chance on our dreams, and we would miss every victory.

With it?  With courage... we can do those things and so much more.  We can truly live.  We can do more than exist.

There is one reason to have courage... one thing that lets us hold our heads high and stand unmoving in the face of anything.  The Lord, our God, is with us where ever we go.  (Joshua 1:9).  The fact that He is with us, that He never leaves or forsakes us... that is what gives us courage to live.

I'm Alive.

It wasn't all that long ago that I wondered how long that would be true. The alive part, that is. I remember the surgeon coming, telling me that the VRE infection I had developed in January was still rampant. It grew both in my wound and blood cultures. For those of you unfamiliar with the abreviation, the VR portion stands for vancomyacin resistant. That means that they literally don't have anything left to treat it with. They were pumping me full of three kinds of antibiotics, plus the antihistamines and steroids required when giving me levaquin (I am allergic). Those would take care of some of the bacteria - the other kinds. But the VRE? The doctor said it was up to my own body.

God was merciful. I initially caught the infection along with four other kinds of bacteria. Most likely from someone who didn't wash his or her hands adequately before applying gloves and doing a dressing change while I was hospitalized. They told me then that there was nothing they could do about the infection. We all thought it had abated, until nearly three months later when my shin literally started rotting off.

God was merciful. In spite of the fact that the original wound was self inflicted, and in spite of the fact that I was falling apart in so very many ways, He saved my leg. And He saved my life.

I was thinking about this tonight in church, and Psalm 143 came to mind. I've got it below for you to read. It just seems... fitting.

O Lord, hear my prayer, listen to my cry for mercy;
in your faithfulness and righteousness come to my relief.
Do not bring your servant (me) into judgment,
for no one living is righteous before You.
The enemey pursues me, he crushes me to the ground;
he makes me dwell in darkness like those long dead.
So my spirit grows faint within me;
my heart within me is dismayed.
I remember the days of long ago;
I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done.
I spread out my hands to you;
my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.
Selah. (Which means meditate on this.)
Answer me quickly, O Lord;
my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit.
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
Rescue me from my enemies, O Lord, for I hid myself in You.
Teach me to do your will, for you are my God;
may your Spirit lead me on level ground.
For your name's sake, O Lord, preserve my life;
in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble.
In your unfailing love, silence my enemies;
destroy all my foes, for I am your servant.

But That's So Selfish (Plus a Leg Update)

Forgive me if I include a very brief leg update for the curious: Still scheduled to be admitted the morning of May 11th, will go home 5-7 days later. The psuedomonas turned out to be susceptible to Cipro, so I'm taking very high doses of that and Augmentin up until that morning. A "colony" of bacteria was removed by the nurse today, which will be cultured and verified as something that either Cipro or Augmentin will kill. Slurpy's working well. Pain is decreasing. There are several small eschars (areas of hard, dead tissue) and several obvious colonies of bacteria, but over all, the wound is looking better than it has since the original surgery. Talked to the doctor about some concerns I have related to the PTSD. The result? He understood. I will have a private room. I will not be catheterized and I will not be required to use a bedpan. Over all, a very productive day.

Okay. Now that that's over with, the meat of this post.

Selfishness. Defined by Webster's as either "concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself: seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others" or "arising from concern with one's own welfare or advantage in disregard of others." Certainly not a trait most of us want attributed to ourselves. In fact, I don't know that I've ever met someone who said to me, "I wish I could be just a little more selfish."

I have noticed that many people, myself included, seem to say "yes" to almost any request made of them. I want to give. I want to help. I want to be selfless. If it benefits someone else, I am all for it. Even if it hurts me. I have always used Galatians 5:13 & 14 to justify myself in this attitude. I've convinced myself that i have to "do it all" because... well, because that's the unselfish thing to do. Look at those verses with me for just a moment, will you?

It is absolutely clear that God has called you to a free life. Just make sure that you don't use this freedom as an excuse to do whatever you want to do and destroy your freedom. Rather, use your freedom to serve one another in love; that's how freedom grows. For everything we know about God's Word is summed up in a single sentence: Love others as you love yourself. That's an act of true freedom. (taken from the Message Bible)

I could use this passage to try to convince you that we should do everything others ask. After all it says "serve one another in love." Right? We should serve others. In love. Because that's what we're told to do.

Let me ask you something though. Have you ever been SO busy that you cannot remember what it is you are supposed to do next? Maybe not. Have you promised someone that you'd be there for them, only to walk away with the sinking realization that you have another equally important commitment? I think that sometimes in our efforts to serve God, to love our neighbors, we fall terribly short. Not for lack of willingness. Not for lack of "yes" answers. But because we don't say no. We get so wrapped up in doing, going, and helping, that our own lives start to fall apart.

Look at Luke 6:41 & 42

"Why do you notice the little piece of dust in your friend's eye, but you don't notice the big piece of wood in your own eye? How can you say to your friend, 'Friend, let me take that little piece of dust out of your eye' when you cannot see that big piece of wood in your own eye?! You hypocrite! First, take the wood out of your own eye. Then you will see clearly to take the dust out of your friend's eye.

I always looked at that passage as sort of applying to them. You know, those other people who sit in church with you. But you know what? It's talking to me. The reason I didn't think it was? Well... I am pretty sure I would notice if I got a big piece of wood in my eye. Even if it was metaphorical, like getting entrenched in sin. Or failing to meet my commitments. Or failing to manage my finances. Becoming unsubmissive to my husband. Wouldn't I?

Maybe. If I had time to pay attention to that sort of thing. You know, in between all of the loving my neighbor that I have to do.

Face it. We cannot obey the commandment set forth in Galatians if we don't take heed to what's written here in Luke. Maybe that's why Luke comes first in the Bible? We absolutely, positively must take heed to ourselves. We have to take care of ourselves before we can take care of anything or anyone else. There is no way we can be of any earthly use if we are falling apart.

I am a very good example of this one. I got so caught up in wanting to "be better" and help people that I didn't even notice myself slipping back into the very dangerous, very scary habit of self mutilation. The mess I made is still being cleaned up (see the note at the top of this entry). And right now? I just need to let myself take care of me. I can't take care of others, can't see past my own mountain to help them. And that hurts. But truth doesn't always feel good going down - sometimes, it's bitter, like medicine. Right now, my truth is that I can't really do much for anybody else. I hate it. Loathe it. Want to deny or ignore it. Or both. But I can't. I have to heed it, or I'll wind up with not just a big stick in my eye, but an entire log jamb. And that would certainly help my neighbor, right? Well... maybe not so much.

A little bit further in Luke, it we see what exactly it was that Christ came to do. We are called to be Christians, or Christ-Like. So maybe we ought to read what He did, so we know what we ought to be doing. Read Luke 19:10 with me:

The Son of Man (Christ Jesus) came to find lost people and save them.

Well, that's simple. If we're to love people, and be like Christ, we should be out finding lost people and saving them.

I will be honest. Right now, I feel selfish. I am not out finding lost people and saving them. I am barely getting through my days, battling a systemic infection, fighting to keep my leg, looking at my 3rd urgent surgery in so many weeks. Praying that this one the last - the surgeon isn't sure it will be.

Am I a bad Christian for this? Am I failing? I've stepped back from some of the "helps" things that I usually do. I spend less time now "reaching out." I am asking others to help me. I am trying to force myself to let them. Everything in me is screaming out "THIS IS SO SELFISH."

But then I read this in Matthew. Matthew comes before Luke the way we arrange our Bibles, but this account is after the commandment to love, and after we see what Jesus came to do.

Read Matthew 14, verses 22 and 23:

As soon as the meal was finished, He (Jesus) insisted that the disciples get in the boat and go on ahead to the other side while He dismissed the people. When the crowd dispersed, He climbed the mountainside so He could be by Himself and pray. He stayed there alone, late into the night.

So. There you have it. Jesus, who was perfect, drew away for a time. He spent time alone. He prayed, and He didn't do it for just a little while. He did it late into the night. He didn't just happen to find Himself alone, either. He sent everyone away. He took care of Himself. I don't believe that He would have been able to do what He did if He didn't take this time, alone. This time to be restored and refreshed and rebuilt.

And so, while my flesh screams "SELFISH SELFISH WOMAN" my Spirit whispers, "Wisdom. This is wisdom."

Think about it... can you find a way to apply any of this to your own life? If so, please leave me a comment. I'd love to hear from you.

A Funny Story With Serious Implications

Yesterday, I started running low on the narcotic I was prescribed for the pain caused by the large chunk of flesh that was removed from my shin. So I stopped taking it, and I realized that without it, the pain was... nearly unbearable. It wasn't too bad, as long as I didn't walk. Or sneeze. Or move. In between heartbeats, it was fine. But with all of those, the minor increase in pressure was almost enough to send me through the roof. I called the doctor, said I wanted to be seen because something was awry. I'll write more on that tomorrow, though, because today's post is about the picture above.

I'd like to introduce you to Lucy. That's what I call her. The cardinal, that is. Lucy has a problem. You see, she has worked hard with Mr. Cardinal to build a nest in a branch that overhangs our two dysfunctional cars. But at some point this morning - I'm guessing right around sunrise, which is when I first heard her complain, she discovered two intruders. As you may know, cardinals are territorial.

Lucy will do anything to keep any cardinal other than Mr. Cardinal out of her territory, away from her nest. She wants to protect it. She would lay down her life to give her eggs a chance. Well, these two intruders weren't like any she'd ever discovered before. I first discovered that she had this problem at about 9:00 AM, on my way to my car so I could go to the doctor. I could hear her complaining, Mr. Cardinal calling plaintively, and this repetitive smack, smack, smack sound. It was almost like someone was hitting one of our cars with a stick.

My first thought was that a child from an area daycare had escaped and was indeed hitting our car with a stick. But no... it was she. Lucy. She was using every last ounce of her tiny body and every bit of energy generated by her fierce desire to protect to attack an intruder. Unfortunately, she was unsuccessful. The intruder? Trapped within the mirror of our car. After about 30 seconds, she seemed exhausted - hopped on top of the mirror, ruffled her feathers, and looked around. Then she spotted the other mirror. On the other car. And she was right back at it.

I spent nearly two hours at the doctor's, and she was still at it when I came home. Several hours later, she was still attacking the "intruders" trapped within our mirrors. I laughed hysterically, and stood to watch a while.

I noticed that every now and then, Mr. Cardinal's voice would break through her obsessive, slightly crazy drive to defend, and she would follow him back to reality and "normal life." She'd stay as long as he occupied her, but sooner or later - usually sooner - she came back. I laughed some more.

And then I froze. I realized that I was laughing at myself.

I'm like that. There are things I am battling right now, very real, very intense, potentially dangerous things. Things that I want out of my life for good, that keep coming back. But there are other things - things that can't hurt me any more than those reflections could hurt Lucy's eggs - that I fight just as hard. I will beat myself senseless in so many figurative ways, giving all I have to defeat these reflections.

I am blessed.

I have a Mr. Cardinal. He pulls me back when I'm doing that. And just like the real Mr. Cardinal, he shows no sign of judgment when I return. He receives me with joy and gladness, eager to show me the joy and wonder of the world we live in. He points out the good things. Loves me. Shows his love. There is no shame, no condemnation. Just... love. Even though he knows I've been fighting against reflections, against shadows - things without substance - he helps me fight and holds me close when I'm done.

Mr. Cardinal and my husband have a lot in common. I am so amazingly thankful for this vivid picture that was painted for me today. And even more thankful for my very own Mr. Cardinal. I usually call him Derek or Sir though. I think he'd look at me oddly if I were to address him as Mr. Cardinal.

But most of all, I am thankful for my God. Do you know that some of what we battle is nothing more than shadow or reflection? I know, it's hard, and seems so real. It is so real. It's just that so often, it's not as bad as we think. And He gives us strength for these battles we wage. And when we finally notice Him calling us, and we run after Him.... He welcomes us back. Romans 8:1 - there is no condemnation for us. He doesn't judge us. No name calling - we are not addressed as silly or foolish or wasteful or stupid. He welcomes us, with just love. Unfailing, unyielding, unchanging, unshakable love.

That's all for today - a funny story, with some serious parallels. By the way, did I mention that cardinals have an extremely special meaning to me, and that I have been praying for God to show me one for a while now? Once again, He's done exceedingly above and beyond that which I have asked or even imagined.

Come Walk With Me.

It's time for my nightly "God time."

God time is a new policy in our house. My husband declared it three weeks ago, after we met with our Pastor. Each night, we set aside one hour. During that hour, we separate - he has chosen the basement, and I stay upstairs. We don't answer the phone, don't read emails, don't play with the cats. We spend that hour with God. It is good. Very, very good.

Tonight, I am having more than a little trouble focusing. Thoughts are racing, and distractions are competing for attention. I'll start a thought, and before it's finished, it's gone. I could "fight it out" alone and probably benefit. But instead, I am going to ask you something.

Will you walk with me? Tonight, I'm giving you an open invitation into my time with God. As I pray, as I read, I will write. I will share my heart here, in the hope that doing so may give you a glimpse of God's heart for you.

Lord, I love you. You are holy. You are awesome, mighty... omnipotent. You are awesome. Indescribable, uncontainable. Amazing. Wonderful. Perfect in every way. I am humbled by Your majesty, thankful for your grace. For all that You are, for all You have done, I give you praise. I come before you with thanksgiving, Lord.

Tonight, my heart hurts. Tonight, I find myself dreaming of what might have, could have... should have been. What should have been is a little girl. A little girl named Annaliah. She would have been three next month. If she had been born here on earth. If we had gotten more than 14 short weeks.

I remember being on my knees, begging God for comfort. Asking Him to help me through. Aching for something to hold onto. Something to remember. Some part of her. And I remember the dream I had that night. I believe with all my heart that it was from Him, of Him. In the dream, I saw her face. Her beautiful, sweet face. Her brown eyes. Perfect cheeks. Her daddy's mouth and her great grandma's nose. Downy soft hair. I held her in my arms. I felt her warmth, her weight. Felt her breathing. Saw her flex her tiny fingers. The image faded. It was replaced with light. Amazing, all consuming light. And in the middle of this light... was Him. The King. He held the hand of a little girl. Brown hair, dancing eyes. She was looking up at him with an expression of awe, of love, and of total trust. He smiled, and bent down a little to speak to her. He pointed at me. She broke into a grin, and ran toward me. I awoke, filled with comfort. With peace.

I have never shared that second part. I have cherished it in my heart, relished it as my own. But tonight, I'm sharing it with you. Not for judgement. Not so that you can ask God for the same thing. But so that together, we can thank God for loving us. For knowing us. For comfort that He and He alone can give.

Thank you, for comfort. For peace. Comfort. Unchanging, unyielding, and unending love.

Proverbs 2:1-15
My child, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God. For the Lord gives wisdom, and from His mouth come knowledge and understanding. He holds victory in store for the upright, He is a shield to those whose walk is blameless, for He guards the course of the just and protects the way of His faithful ones.

Then you will understand what is right and just and fair - every good path. For wisdom will enter your heart and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul. Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you. Wisdom will save you from the ways of wicket men, from men whose words are perverse, who leave the straight paths to walk in dark ways, who delight in doing wrong and rejoice in the perverseness of evil, whose paths are crooked and who are devious in their ways.

One thing that I have done many times, and will continue to do... one thing that helps, that makes a tangible, immediate difference... is to confess the Word of God. I'll take a passage, or a verse, or a chapter, and speak it. Out loud. Usually, when I do that, I personalize it. For example... instead of saying "My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life many years and bring you prosperity," I say "I do not forget His teaching, and I keep His commands in my heart. They will prolong my life many years and bring me prosperity."

Make sense? Good. This is the final exercise I do each night. Read them with me. Out loud.

Psalm 91.
I dwell in the shelter of the Most High; I rest in the shadow of the Almighty. The Lord is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.

Surely He will save me from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He covers me with His feathers, and under His wings I find refuge; His faithfulness is my shield and rampart. I do not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand my fall at my side, ten thousand at my right hand, but it will not come near me. I will only observe with my eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.

Because I make the Most High my dwelling - the Lord, who is my refuge - no harm will befall me, and no disaster will come near my home. He commands His angels concerning me, to guard me in all my ways; they lift me up in their hands, so that I will not so much as strike my foot against a stone. I will tread upon the lion and the cobra, and trample the great lion and the serpent.

The Lord says that because I love him, He will rescue me. He will protect me, for I acknowledge His name. I will call upon Him, and He will answer me; He will be with me in trouble, and He will deliver me and honor me. With long life will He satisfy me, and show me His salvation.

Ephesians 6:10-17
I am strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. I put on the full armor of God so that I can take my stand against the devil's schemes. My struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, the authorities, the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore I put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, I can stand my ground. And after I have done everything, I will still be standing.

I stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around my waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with my feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all of this, I take up the shield of faith, with which I can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. I take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God.

I hope that in walking with me for just a short while, you have been blessed. And now may the Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace.

I haven't forgotten.

I know I posted weeks ago. Many weeks. And said that I was working on a series.

I came here tonight to say, I haven't forgotten.

That series in in the making.

To prepare, you might consider reading and re-reading 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. I think you'll be blessed when the series does go up. And I know that you will be blessed reading those verses.

Tonight, I am posting something that has very little to do with that series.

First, a little bit of background. There is a date coming up, a date that has been scaring me. For years. And no, it's not the 31st. Or the 30th. The date itself isn't so important. It's the implications of this date. I have spent a life time dreading it. And that dread, that fear, has had a lot of years to sink its roots down deep. The struggles of the past 18 months or so have amplified that fear until it seemed to have a life all its own. And I let it.

There is someone who has helped me, who has walked beside me over the last 10 months. Someone older, and wiser. This individual seems to constantly be reminding me to "tell myself the truth."

Tonight, there are many things that are techinically true.

My face, hands, and feet have been turning bluish-gray or white off and on all day today. I spent several hours last night laying in bed listening to my pulse pounding in my ear. I just took my pulse, and it is thankfully finally back down where it belongs. Not regular, and little blips of really fast ones. But comfortably slow at 55.

But the truth is, my God is God. Faithful. Dependable. Can never change. His Word stands forever. He is bigger than this. He knows what is wrong, and has already provided the solution.

Another thing that is true is this: in August of 2002, my Pastor at the time sat at a public park with me as I told him what I thought God had said to me. He confirmed it. He gave me an assignment. Said to do it every day. For the rest of my life.

I started strong, and after a few years... well, I let it go.

I have been feeling really convicted about that though. And have been doing it again.

Ephesians 6:10-18, spoken aloud and in the first person. There is a particular section that really got me tonight.

"My struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore, I put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, I will be able to stand my ground, and after I have done everything, I will stand."

What is supposed to happen on a given day does not matter in light of this verse. Because I can stand in spite of it.

And that, tonight, is something worth meditating on.

Throwing Aside Weights.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And you have forgotten the word of encouragement that addresses you as children of God:
"My child, do not make light of the Lord's discipline,
and do not lose heart when He rebukes you,
because the Lord disciplines those He loves,
and He punishes everyone He accepts as a child."

This all comes from Hebrews 12.

I have been absent from posting lately. I promise, I am still plugging away at my series of posts.

But for now... for now, I just wanted to share that little bit of God's Word with you. I'll try to get back here and post again this week... and hopefully, the series will be finished by next week.

Psalm 65

Verses 6-8:
You faithfully answer our prayers with awesome deeds,
O God our Savior.
You are the hope of everyone on earth,
even those who sail on distant seas.
You formed the mountains by Your power
and armed Yourself with mighty strength.
You quieted the raging oceans
with their pounding waves
and silenced the shouting of the nations.
Those who live at the ends of the earth
stand in awe of your wonders.
From where the sun rises to where it sets,
You inspire shouts of joy.

The Voice of God.

*From Psalm 29

The voice of the Lord is over the waters;
the God of glory thunders,
the Lord thunders over the mighty waters.
The voice of the Lord is powerful;
the voice of the Lord is majestic.
The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars...
He makes Lebanon skip like a calf,
Sirion like a young wild ox.
The voice of the Lord strikes with flashes of lightning.
The voice of the Lord shakes the desert;
the Lord shakes the desert of Kadesh.
The voice of the Lord twists the oaks
and strips the forests bare.
And in His temple all cry, "Glory!"
The Lord sits enthroned over the flood;
the Lord is enthroned as King forever.
The Lord gives strength to His people;
the Lord blesses His people with peace.

Life has a way of piling up around us. It can be suffocating, overwhelming, terrifying. The cares of this world can grow out of proportion, eclipsing hope and reason. The voices of confusion can drown out every other sound.

During these times, the still, small voice that God often uses can be easy to miss. We try to listen, we try to still our minds and hearts, to quietly wait for Him. And if you are anything like me, it only works some of the time. It is in these times that we so desperately need what this passage speaks of. A voice that thunders, flashes, shakes the very ground on which we stand. We, I, need something louder than the storm, something to awaken sleeping faith and revive dying hope.

I get pictures in my mind when I read passages like this. I have stood on the rocky shoreline, watching a storm split the sky and stir the waters. I have heard His voice, speaking to my heart, while wind and rain carry away the hurt and pain. I've thrown my arms open, inviting Him to shake me to the core and change everything I am.

Can you see it? Do you know His voice?

Have you laid in your bed, watching the minutes drag by while the doctor's words echo in your mind? Have you felt the peace that comes with His words, washing over you as the first hint of dawn lights the eastern sky? Have you stood in a cemetery, staring at the dark hole into which your loved one is about to be lowered? Have you desperately clung to the hope of glory as your heart broke in pieces? Have you heard Him whisper?

"I have been there."

"I will never leave you."

"I am."

Today, tomorrow, next week, I am seeking His voice. I know it is in Him and through Him that I draw breath, and it is only by His grace that I wake each morning. And I know that if I cannot hear His voice, I cannot go on. So as I wait on Him, as I trust Him, as I listen for His voice, will you do the same?

I don't know what is in your life - it may be the bitter pain of loss, the horror of an abusive past, the snare of offense. Maybe your bank account can't add up to what you owe. Or perhaps you are wondering where you will lie your head tonight - or if your life will end before the day is over. Whatever your situation, whatever your hurt... He is with you. He loves you. He will never leave you.

And I pray that in the midst of it all, while the storm rages around you, you would remember His promises. That His peace would still your beating heart and calm your fears. That His whisper would comfort you, that His Spirit would guide you.

That you would hear His voice.

Emotion. Psalms.

This post is going to be a short one... because the thing that's weighing most heavily on me tonight, the thing that I truly need to write out, may or may not be something that I share here. But, for those who may be following along in the Psalms with me...

Jump ahead to Psalm 18. I'm going to pick it up in the middle, share a few verses, and wrap it up. Meanwhile, if you would, take a minute to head over to Jennifer's blog. Her sweet son, Stellan, is struggling. Fighting for his very life. Please, take a little time out of your day to pray for him, for his parents (Jennifer and Israel), and for his doctors as they prepare for a very risky procedure.

Verses 1-3
I love You, O Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my Rock, my Fortress and my Deliverer;
My God is my Rock in Whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation - my stronghold.
I call to the Lord, Who is worthy of praise,
and I am saved from my enemies.

My life has not been what I would call easy. Blessed, for sure. Good, mostly. Amazing, thrilling, exhilarating? At times. But not easy. And yet, through everything... He has been there. In the darkness, in the sadness, in the hurt, He comforted. In the joy, the peace, the beauty, He showed Himself. He truly is my rock and my Deliverer. It is He who has delivered me, and it is He in whom I take refuge.

Verses 4-6
The cords of death entangled me;
the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
the snares of death confronted me.
In my distress I called to the Lord;
I cried to my God for help.
From His temple He heard my voice;
my cry came before Him, into His ears.

I'm not going to expound on verses four and five. They speak for themselves, and there isn't anything that I would like to say, other than "I get that."

It's verse six I want to talk about. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. That is the only thing I could do. There wasn't strength for anything else. No earthly way forward. Men (or women) could not help. The battle was not physical, not a flesh-and-blood thing. It was (and is, and will be for the rest of my earthly life) spiritual.

It's hard, truthfully, to cry out to God when it feels like I'm failing. When that insistent little voice whispers "You did this and you never do that. Surely, God can't accept you anymore. You've gone too far, done it one too many times now." When that happens, shame rushes in and confidence is harder to grasp than the wind. It is at that time that I truly feel unworthy. And it at that time that doubt raises its ugly head, blocking my view. And it is hard, so hard, to cry out to God. And yet, it is then that I most desperately need to do just that. And it is then, when I am totally and utterly dependent on His grace, on His mercy, on the sacrifice He made and the sinless life He lived, that He has shown Himself faithful.

He has heard my cry. Not just heard... but really heard. It's not like when a bird outside serenades. When that happens, we hear the song, but we don't really hear it. Am I making sense? God hears us. Not just perceives that we are making noise, but really hears what we say.

Verses 7-18
The earth trembled and quaked,
and the foundations of the mountains shook;
they trembled because He was angry.
Smoke rose from His nostrils;
consuming fire came from His mouth,
burning coals blasted out of it.
He parted the heavens and came down;
dark clouds were under His feet.
He mounted the cherubim and flew;
He soared on the wings of the wind.
He made darkness His covering, His canopy around Him -
the dark rain clouds of the sky.
Out of the brightness of His presence clouds advanced,
with hailstones and bolts of lightning.
The Lord thundered from heaven;
the voice of the Most High resounded.
He shot His arrows and scattered the enemies,
great bolts of lightning and routed them.
The valleys of the sea were exposed
and the foundations of the earth laid bare
at Your rebuke, O Lord,
at the blast of breath from Your nostrils.
He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
He drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the Lord was my support.

This is one of my favorite passages, because of the picture it paints. I don't know about you, but my mind works in pictures. I see the wind, the dark and swirling clouds, the lightning and parting waters. I have stood, arms thrown open wide, as a storm rushed in. I've felt every hair stand at attention in wonder.

And yet... this passage, pales in comparison to the work He has done inside of each person who allows it. It pales in comparison to what He has done in me. For me. I'm not going to draw any more parallels, not going to expound on that thought any further.

I'm ending here, with this statement. This passage, these words recorded for all eternity, bring to mind a few emotions. Awe. Wonder. A sense of being loved. But more than any of that, they bring gratitude. I am so unspeakably grateful for what He has done and Who He is. And for tonight, that is where I am going to close.