It's New Years day.
I'm getting ready to be with the Body, though I'll show up late...
Brushing my teeth and combing my hair,
I look in the mirror.
I don't like everything I see.
What we put into our lives, shows up -
Too much coffee, not enough sleep or veggies,
the unkempt heap of papers on my desk and clothes in the back of the closet,
plus effects of wine & bread & cheese, and not enough: gym-time, walk-time, get-out-and-run-even-though-you-hate-it time. And that's just the exterior stuff.
This is a tough moment.
because I remember what it feels like to hate this rumpled girl in the mirror.
I'm afraid of the lines and wrinkles,
the messy desk, the dishes to be done,
and the well padded-corners - the droops that muscle has now gone extinct.
I'm afraid of what this relfection might tell:
that I didn't try; that while my focus was elsewhere this happened.
I sigh.
I don't want this fear anymore. Because fear will motivate you for all of the wrong reasons.
It will destroy you,
just when you think you've secured victories.
You'll find you're just standing upon a heap of filthy lies - with a false mirror, trying hard to make believe it's real. And becoming even harder with hate.
Lord have mercy. Transform me with Your love,
so that in the rumply reflection there is find love not fear mirrored back - hope, not despair, freedom not hate.
To Him who has come, and who is able, be all glory & honour of 2012. Amen.
Showing posts with label promise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label promise. Show all posts
Monday, January 02, 2012
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
gravity of gospel.
it's been a tattering last couple of days,
as I try to piece together
this:
I'm trying to reconcile
standing, hearing the bloodiest shriek -
eyes rolling - not inhuman, but depraved.
I'm wondering, 'what in God's name am I doing here?'
how does an anxious, rumpled, twenty-something
find herself called
Here. With purpose.
Suffering tries to steal it.
worry grinds in deep, haunting memory.
Death, in all its suffocating power aims for precedence.
this threatens to take us all.
I've never seen it so grave.
So clear, and true, and bright the choice.
Even here, in the sobs of not understanding,
He is. Thank God! He is Who He is.
I'm wondering, 'what in God's name am I doing here?'
how does an anxious, rumpled, twenty-something
find herself called
Here. With purpose.
Suffering tries to steal it.
worry grinds in deep, haunting memory.
Death, in all its suffocating power aims for precedence.
this threatens to take us all.
I've never seen it so grave.
So clear, and true, and bright the choice.
Even here, in the sobs of not understanding,
He is. Thank God! He is Who He is.
More than black, white and tangible page,
that burn and blot and tear
blood and body, Words from Holy lips
resounding - hounding for dear ones
to come to Life
for His Name's sake.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
the pulse of men & women
The sense I get when I read the first chapters of Genesis - where the world and humanity, unfolds in the Creator's hands is that we, male and female are lovingly and tenderly made. Our action and intention perpetuated by the breath of God, pulsating with purpose to move and to think and to speak - to tend and to help. God made, him and her, human, in Him - in His image.
Tonight's spooky incident was the apex of a train of thinking I've been on lately.
While I walking home alone in the dark this evening, some guy ran at me - his face masked with paint, and scared the crap out of me. He used words to intimidate me, and I was alone. His friends got a laugh, and I cried - in the wake of the misapplication of human influence.
I felt similarly a few weeks ago, when I held the bleeding face of a man who had just been mugged - beaten with a rock in the face until he let go of his laptop. Brother broken on pavement, for a piece of plastic that will be obsolete in a matter of years or months.
How we can so easily make priorities out of `things, and miss the 'apple of Christ's' eye in the meantime.
How simply we can act upon our propensity to deny God's image in the people beside us.
How easily we can rape.
You know, sometimes I think I should just buck up and trust less. Laying bricks of fear and bitterness feels safer, definitely easier than vulnerability. It is less emotional than rending the soul before God in brokenheaertedness over sin and pain.
But it`s a lie to merit myself alone above creeps in dark streets - to judge for myself alone, another adequate or inadequate of Christ`s unmerrited compassion and grace through, the betterness of what I do with my time or days.
Without God, I`m not far off being a creep in a dark corner, really - from using the intent of my pulse for my own ends, to wield my influence in pride, insecurity, lust or anger. Maybe somethings don`t seem immediately negative or innately wrong, but over time they impact the heart - and change the rhythym.
In the Creation story, we're given a pulse, human impulse and influence - things we do every day: naming - using language, defining, refining, proposing, sharing, describing; and tending: to work, to school, to children, to relationships, to gardens, to our hair, to our dishes and vacuuming. We`ve all got that common rhythm, that intent to process and do - to eat and to live.
In relationship with God, naming is full and good - a work of shaping and affirmation of `being` that He has created. Tending with Him through Jesus Christ, is a work of justice that flows from value beginning with Him.
Tonight's spooky incident was the apex of a train of thinking I've been on lately.
While I walking home alone in the dark this evening, some guy ran at me - his face masked with paint, and scared the crap out of me. He used words to intimidate me, and I was alone. His friends got a laugh, and I cried - in the wake of the misapplication of human influence.
I felt similarly a few weeks ago, when I held the bleeding face of a man who had just been mugged - beaten with a rock in the face until he let go of his laptop. Brother broken on pavement, for a piece of plastic that will be obsolete in a matter of years or months.
How we can so easily make priorities out of `things, and miss the 'apple of Christ's' eye in the meantime.
How simply we can act upon our propensity to deny God's image in the people beside us.
How easily we can rape.
You know, sometimes I think I should just buck up and trust less. Laying bricks of fear and bitterness feels safer, definitely easier than vulnerability. It is less emotional than rending the soul before God in brokenheaertedness over sin and pain.
But it`s a lie to merit myself alone above creeps in dark streets - to judge for myself alone, another adequate or inadequate of Christ`s unmerrited compassion and grace through, the betterness of what I do with my time or days.
Without God, I`m not far off being a creep in a dark corner, really - from using the intent of my pulse for my own ends, to wield my influence in pride, insecurity, lust or anger. Maybe somethings don`t seem immediately negative or innately wrong, but over time they impact the heart - and change the rhythym.
In the Creation story, we're given a pulse, human impulse and influence - things we do every day: naming - using language, defining, refining, proposing, sharing, describing; and tending: to work, to school, to children, to relationships, to gardens, to our hair, to our dishes and vacuuming. We`ve all got that common rhythm, that intent to process and do - to eat and to live.
In relationship with God, naming is full and good - a work of shaping and affirmation of `being` that He has created. Tending with Him through Jesus Christ, is a work of justice that flows from value beginning with Him.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
there, your treasure
treasure
is buried
leaves, dirt, rocks, sand - mess
And you believe, it's better that way:
part of it's worth is in the planning
the dig, the find
the raising up and glory of it
as it crests the edge of the earth and is lifted above
settled for a life of dirt?
settling in the dirt,
sifting through - down to a laden trunk's temporary bed
Seeking and found by the One that is sought.
searching & finding with Em & more at:
is buried
leaves, dirt, rocks, sand - mess
And you believe, it's better that way:
part of it's worth is in the planning
the dig, the find
the raising up and glory of it
as it crests the edge of the earth and is lifted above
settled for a life of dirt?
settling in the dirt,
sifting through - down to a laden trunk's temporary bed
Seeking and found by the One that is sought.
searching & finding with Em & more at:
Thursday, September 23, 2010
none spectacular
There is nothing spectacular about these bushes before me through the window of this coffee shop; with sporadic, springing branches, see-sawing in the summer's end breeze, with August-sun drawn green-gold leaves. They aren't pretty, at all.
But I am comforted by these terribly humble, jagged leaves and the living life they whisper - of a summer growing and tales of warmth in the sun. Their thick and full is waning, the branches of the bush dip and bend, down toward the rest that comes of winter. Dead blooms, withered, hang.
There is nothing speactacular about these bushes.
Yet, they are quiet talking teachers still - professing to any who will wonder long, breeching the 20 minute lingering limit of the shop. Witnesses of the summer's Sun, preachers of bold and right growth, however wiley and sporadic; told in hues that will only ever be fair.
And now, dying deaths without wild witness.
Christ, gentle hand to the bent, broken and pale - liberator of seed, that life to the full might be plentiful to us. He is near.
giving thanks.
But I am comforted by these terribly humble, jagged leaves and the living life they whisper - of a summer growing and tales of warmth in the sun. Their thick and full is waning, the branches of the bush dip and bend, down toward the rest that comes of winter. Dead blooms, withered, hang.
There is nothing speactacular about these bushes.
Yet, they are quiet talking teachers still - professing to any who will wonder long, breeching the 20 minute lingering limit of the shop. Witnesses of the summer's Sun, preachers of bold and right growth, however wiley and sporadic; told in hues that will only ever be fair.
And now, dying deaths without wild witness.
Christ, gentle hand to the bent, broken and pale - liberator of seed, that life to the full might be plentiful to us. He is near.
giving thanks.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
somewhere along the way, I fell...
well it happened last night,
on a major street downtown - down to my knees
after a toe-dive into that pot-hole.
they are bruised today.
Rectified with a laugh and Friendship.
How often do I find mysef here?
How often have I questioned?
was that a misstep, or a normal one in uneven territory?
and here's the thing,
the bumps still happen and I still fall laughing-
in Love.
giving thanks to the One in all steps, jumps, flailings and landings.
its a great journey - thank You for letting me live it.
on a major street downtown - down to my knees
after a toe-dive into that pot-hole.
they are bruised today.
Rectified with a laugh and Friendship.
How often do I find mysef here?
How often have I questioned?
was that a misstep, or a normal one in uneven territory?
and here's the thing,
the bumps still happen and I still fall laughing-
in Love.
giving thanks to the One in all steps, jumps, flailings and landings.
its a great journey - thank You for letting me live it.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
uncontrolled anticipation.
like a little kid,
spunky and enerved, ready to pounce on deep Holy-cultivated desire.
and I see how I have much room for more risk,
more hope,
more space to anticipate more of Him.
Perhaps, you like me, don't know right now where He will take you -
He's giving you glimmers that you couldn't hang a hat on, and He's calling you to lay your life down.
Oh my God.
That's just it -- my God.
The One and Only for shady doubters.
my hands are loosed in greater grip,
and soft feather-breaths of hope come to rest on Him:
the Strong and Kind, the Hallowed and Near One,
willing us up from amidst the desert's thousand grains of sand -
in His way of wooing us to fall soft in Him.
In talking about plans,
dreaming dreams,
and telling Him about them.
in praying for things to for things to come,
wanting "Thy will be done".
About learning new shades and signs,
choosing ways,
taking a path
to follow Him on.
Trust in His hands known gentle,
with holy lips speaking God-life into all of me.
Hope is boundless and palpable,
He perfects my hoping as it's used and I care less about all that's not Him.
We talk of where we are and about hoping for more,
for change and for future.
All satisfied in wanting of Him.
Today, I give thanks for:
spunky and enerved, ready to pounce on deep Holy-cultivated desire.
and I see how I have much room for more risk,
more hope,
more space to anticipate more of Him.
Perhaps, you like me, don't know right now where He will take you -
He's giving you glimmers that you couldn't hang a hat on, and He's calling you to lay your life down.
Oh my God.
That's just it -- my God.
The One and Only for shady doubters.
my hands are loosed in greater grip,
and soft feather-breaths of hope come to rest on Him:
the Strong and Kind, the Hallowed and Near One,
willing us up from amidst the desert's thousand grains of sand -
in His way of wooing us to fall soft in Him.
In talking about plans,
dreaming dreams,
and telling Him about them.
in praying for things to for things to come,
wanting "Thy will be done".
About learning new shades and signs,
choosing ways,
taking a path
to follow Him on.
Trust in His hands known gentle,
with holy lips speaking God-life into all of me.
Hope is boundless and palpable,
He perfects my hoping as it's used and I care less about all that's not Him.
We talk of where we are and about hoping for more,
for change and for future.
All satisfied in wanting of Him.
Today, I give thanks for:
- looking and finding.
- open doors.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
a day full
I'm in my kitchen,
licking batter from a spatula - lapping up the dailyness as I bake, and the good smells from time-tested techniques that fill.
Wondering at who thought of pricking the dough before you bake it - or who discovered the binding properties of eggs?
My thoughts on a million things, as work season passes into season of celebrations.
I'm all nerves of excitement; I'm all nerves.
So, I bring my bundle to Him: as I slip a pan into the oven, and then as I close the fridge door to ingredients back in their place, and again as I ice cake tops - slow, careful, creamy.
I bring my requests to Him, in thanksgiving.
Thankfulness reminds you of the honey-and-milk land you live in when He is your Home;
reminds you that in Him, you are in the midst of the Promise.
It calls you to pause at the beauty of the flow, drink because there is thirst, and rejoice at it's quenching.
peace to you dear ones, as I am away to celebrate with brides & grooms, friends & family for a few weeks.
may your days be full of Him.
licking batter from a spatula - lapping up the dailyness as I bake, and the good smells from time-tested techniques that fill.
Wondering at who thought of pricking the dough before you bake it - or who discovered the binding properties of eggs?
My thoughts on a million things, as work season passes into season of celebrations.
I'm all nerves of excitement; I'm all nerves.
So, I bring my bundle to Him: as I slip a pan into the oven, and then as I close the fridge door to ingredients back in their place, and again as I ice cake tops - slow, careful, creamy.
I bring my requests to Him, in thanksgiving.
Thankfulness reminds you of the honey-and-milk land you live in when He is your Home;
reminds you that in Him, you are in the midst of the Promise.
It calls you to pause at the beauty of the flow, drink because there is thirst, and rejoice at it's quenching.
peace to you dear ones, as I am away to celebrate with brides & grooms, friends & family for a few weeks.
may your days be full of Him.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
sufficient
It's likely part my rural upbringing, partly growing up in town and not the farm, and partly being female raised in these places that I battle daily with the calls of 'lazy'.
"Lazy's" threat beckons so many of us from bed each day - anxious not to waste it, anxious that we might really be lazy if we don't make enough of our lives, if we miss the mark. Lazy pins us into a corner of Martha's and lays waste to His gift of grace. It makes me spin with more and more - do and do.
Lazy and productive are not the defining dichotomies of the Christian life.
I found when I moved out on my own (literally, educationally, and professionally), I struggled to define myself in my new space. I used old standby's, like 'doing' and 'lazy' and 'productive' - they helped with getting at the dishes and papers, and a feeling of pride when I'd been successful in accomplishing something. But they left me bearing the weight of their emptiness and negative drag, because I simply could not uphold all of the standards I'd set for myself.
A sinner still, needing His grace to accomplish.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
~ 2 Cor. 12:9
Slowly, the old and broken of my daily vocabulary is phased out, and I settle for a dealing of His words full of grace, defined in the paradox of Incarnation.
Today, I am thankful for:
"Lazy's" threat beckons so many of us from bed each day - anxious not to waste it, anxious that we might really be lazy if we don't make enough of our lives, if we miss the mark. Lazy pins us into a corner of Martha's and lays waste to His gift of grace. It makes me spin with more and more - do and do.
Lazy and productive are not the defining dichotomies of the Christian life.
I found when I moved out on my own (literally, educationally, and professionally), I struggled to define myself in my new space. I used old standby's, like 'doing' and 'lazy' and 'productive' - they helped with getting at the dishes and papers, and a feeling of pride when I'd been successful in accomplishing something. But they left me bearing the weight of their emptiness and negative drag, because I simply could not uphold all of the standards I'd set for myself.
A sinner still, needing His grace to accomplish.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
~ 2 Cor. 12:9
Slowly, the old and broken of my daily vocabulary is phased out, and I settle for a dealing of His words full of grace, defined in the paradox of Incarnation.
Today, I am thankful for:
- early mornings.
- the tickle of steam on your face with that first sip.
- great women to read about.
- His way of mercy.
Monday, June 28, 2010
handing over
I found a photo at Thanksgiving.
I was sad that he wasn't in more of them.
But then I noticed something I hadn't yet before.
His hands. And a "half a cup of diet Pepsi".
Farmer's hands.
Inventor's hands.
Painter's hands.
Hands that painted fences into his eighties, gripped a cane and pulled his body up into a loader to clear snow from the lane.
Rough hands - arthritic hands.
Hands that used to smooth up my arms as a little girl, as his voice would tease that that arm was as tempting as peaches and cream corn.
And then he would nibble and give me grandpa kisses.
He would send me into giggles.
I went to the farm today. It's changed from when he & she were there together.
And I find little things to take with me to remember.
The farm is moving on in the family, as it should.
And I don't quite know how I feel as I look through the familiar things set up unfamiliar on the basement table, to be taken home by grandchildren.
This home was not on the walls, or in the chimes of a certain clock, or the colour of the rugs.
Home dwells within, and is shared.
Her hands hold mine just the same as when I was five.
They are small and soft, with the gift of soothing to sleep, and mocking one-finger wags that rehabilitate the worst offender with a laugh.
And we kiss each other's cheeks and laugh at all the purses you collect over the years.
And we miss him together and share so much excitement at preparing her new home for this next chapter in life.
Today, I am thankful for:
I was sad that he wasn't in more of them.
But then I noticed something I hadn't yet before.
His hands. And a "half a cup of diet Pepsi".
Farmer's hands.
Inventor's hands.
Painter's hands.
Hands that painted fences into his eighties, gripped a cane and pulled his body up into a loader to clear snow from the lane.
Rough hands - arthritic hands.
Hands that used to smooth up my arms as a little girl, as his voice would tease that that arm was as tempting as peaches and cream corn.
And then he would nibble and give me grandpa kisses.
He would send me into giggles.
I went to the farm today. It's changed from when he & she were there together.
And I find little things to take with me to remember.
The farm is moving on in the family, as it should.
And I don't quite know how I feel as I look through the familiar things set up unfamiliar on the basement table, to be taken home by grandchildren.
This home was not on the walls, or in the chimes of a certain clock, or the colour of the rugs.
Home dwells within, and is shared.
Her hands hold mine just the same as when I was five.
They are small and soft, with the gift of soothing to sleep, and mocking one-finger wags that rehabilitate the worst offender with a laugh.
And we kiss each other's cheeks and laugh at all the purses you collect over the years.
And we miss him together and share so much excitement at preparing her new home for this next chapter in life.
Today, I am thankful for:
- Book after Book.
- our fellowship.
Friday, June 18, 2010
secret heart.
not in anxiety, but in trust.
kyrie eleison.
The lyrics of this piece are Kyrie eleison (Lord have mercy), Christe eleison (Christ have mercy).
I have been singing them out of an anxious heart, because my heart tends to be anxious - tender spots that still spike pain and I try to defend. My heart is shy - and I often stress myself out trying not to be (counter-productive, believe me), because I grew up receiving and believing that it wasn't good to be just myself with my peers. I know I am not alone here.
I've grown up. His victories through fears abound.
And I know I am still quiet country-girl, now with Saviour-friend and lover, university degree, laptop, stamped passport and the ability order a latte without fumbling over words in shear awe of "grande" and "venti" ;) - who likes wide, gravel roads best over paved, but who has had love cultivated for many in tight city-spaces.
His gentle love calms my storm of fears and stills my frustration with my shy-at-deep-self, my not-yet-there-self, my why-do-I-do-what-I-do-and-don't-do-what-I-should?-self. His eyes are of forgiveness and love that conquer my fears, so I can repent, forgive and love.
Lord have mercy on this anxious heart, that it would trust You more and more.
Today, I am thankful for:
- her face :)
- early morning walks.
- last-minute preparations late at night.
- "love you too".
(photo credit: Second Book of Masses, 1598 edition, http://www.vox-pop.org/gallery.php)
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
sign of seal
I need to know that I am protected, looked out for.
For all of the independent ventures of modern women, there remains a tenderness needing to be cherished in its delicacy. Same goes for our brothers too.
Sometimes (…lately, with work), I find my soul and heart feeling so raw, so over exposed as I'm working out the call to love God and others.
The rawness is disorienting and disturbing, and so I am given a critical opportunity to reflect and meditate upon this - deep in the Song of Solomon,
‘...Me as a seal upon your heart…’
I am getting more deeply acquainted with how great this truth is:
A seal: something used both for the marking of an impression in a soft substance, and also to the tenacious substance itself; a method of authentication or security, confirms, ratifies – making stable, assured – preventing the loss of contents and the infusing of impurities; that which affixes paradoxical edges.
(thank you Webster’s dictionary)
Aside from secluding oneself: building up walls of defense or veils of secret & superfluous that the Lord's only desire is to take down, is the option to sumbit ourselves to the impression of the One who desires to guard us, His treasured possessions - His weak children, as we encounter all that we do in the lives and calls He's placed before us.
Today, I am thankful for:
For all of the independent ventures of modern women, there remains a tenderness needing to be cherished in its delicacy. Same goes for our brothers too.
Sometimes (…lately, with work), I find my soul and heart feeling so raw, so over exposed as I'm working out the call to love God and others.
The rawness is disorienting and disturbing, and so I am given a critical opportunity to reflect and meditate upon this - deep in the Song of Solomon,
‘...Me as a seal upon your heart…’
I am getting more deeply acquainted with how great this truth is:
A seal: something used both for the marking of an impression in a soft substance, and also to the tenacious substance itself; a method of authentication or security, confirms, ratifies – making stable, assured – preventing the loss of contents and the infusing of impurities; that which affixes paradoxical edges.
(thank you Webster’s dictionary)
Aside from secluding oneself: building up walls of defense or veils of secret & superfluous that the Lord's only desire is to take down, is the option to sumbit ourselves to the impression of the One who desires to guard us, His treasured possessions - His weak children, as we encounter all that we do in the lives and calls He's placed before us.
Today, I am thankful for:
- an air conditioner waiting for hot days - bring it!
- together prayers and dinner.
- an opportunity to learn.
- the Rain (thank God! thank God!)
Monday, May 31, 2010
a Name
This morning this blog received a new name - only a slight variation, but a critical one. After four years of being, 'following hard' , it reads simply 'following'.
Names are important - using language, words to allow nuance and restrict undefinition, to create freedom to be and boundaries of not being something. In the garden, God created humans with the intent to give names to His other creatures (Genesis 2:19) - and what man named, so it was. I think in the act of naming, there's a little of calling things what they essentially are (i.e. what they are in and by their Creator), and the freedom to apply God-given human creativity to shape and form just as our Father does.
The 'hard' represented my real intention toward God and my Christian walk - my desire to get it right for Him, my real desire to pursue Him.
A 'hard'-following, committed Christian, as if 'Christian' wouldn't be enough.
Quite simply, as I'm beginning to see it - with heart renewing everyday in His word and love, and with fresh eyes - this walk is defined by the 'following', not the 'hard'-nosed intention to follow. It's about orientation to the One worthy of being followed and not self-orientating adjectives - that is the freedom of Christ, that is the name He bestows upon us. Following is desire and pursuit of the One who taught us to desire and pursue.
Christ is enough.
I am following through the thick and thin, soft and hard that one encounters in life- just as each of you who blog, who read blogs, and His faithful who don't even know what a blog is or how to turn on a computer, follow :)
Today, I am thankful:
Names are important - using language, words to allow nuance and restrict undefinition, to create freedom to be and boundaries of not being something. In the garden, God created humans with the intent to give names to His other creatures (Genesis 2:19) - and what man named, so it was. I think in the act of naming, there's a little of calling things what they essentially are (i.e. what they are in and by their Creator), and the freedom to apply God-given human creativity to shape and form just as our Father does.
The 'hard' represented my real intention toward God and my Christian walk - my desire to get it right for Him, my real desire to pursue Him.
A 'hard'-following, committed Christian, as if 'Christian' wouldn't be enough.
Quite simply, as I'm beginning to see it - with heart renewing everyday in His word and love, and with fresh eyes - this walk is defined by the 'following', not the 'hard'-nosed intention to follow. It's about orientation to the One worthy of being followed and not self-orientating adjectives - that is the freedom of Christ, that is the name He bestows upon us. Following is desire and pursuit of the One who taught us to desire and pursue.
Christ is enough.
I am following through the thick and thin, soft and hard that one encounters in life- just as each of you who blog, who read blogs, and His faithful who don't even know what a blog is or how to turn on a computer, follow :)
Today, I am thankful:
- for my own flower-name.
- for sleeping in.
- for a new class.
- for kitchen pep-talks.
- for activity.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
plans.
"...plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future".- Jer. 29:11b
I used to be pretty "plan" oriented until I became a Christian.
Through a series of painful experiences, I came to the conclusion that it was best to go with the flow, because God would work at random and intervene. Believe me, He has done some incredible things - praise to Him, but my means of interpreting those things was imperfect.
I began to work under the principle that I should make no plans.
I became this passive player in His grander scheme - convinced that my created mind, so flawed, would plan nothing good toward His ultimate will.
I trusted nothing of my own doing - for my own initiatives, however well-intentioned and clear conscienced, had met pain and seeming failure. I would trust only that which was inexplicably Divine revelation - that would be infalliable. A principle born of hurt and fear; not of God.
Means that I began to feel incredibly vulnerable before my God - harassed and ravaged by Him in the winds of life, rather than comforted and protected.
Means that I honoured that priniciple more than my God in my misunderstanding.
Means that I got hurt.
Means that I felt frustrated and impotent in the life He'd given me.
Means that my capacity to trust myself and the truth of Christ in me atrophied significantly.
It's been a continuous process of learning the balance of acknowledging 'Lord' and the freewill He has created us to act out within the confines of our createdness.
I find the plans He has for me are written still within, weather-worn and Heather-torn as I've fumbled through this season of fumbling.
You cannot erase the name He's written for you in His hand - a word calling you Beloved and dignified and worthy, for His sacrifice makes it so.
Today, I am thankful:
- in focus and fuzzy.
- for fresh eyes for treasured things.
- for dealing light to dark.
- for this city.
- for His daily renewal and indwelling.
- for new drafting pencils :).
- for the inner voice of love, and time with H.N.
Friday, May 28, 2010
hope & receipt
You can't deny that present actions affect future possibilities. We work toward today, in hope of that His promises make of tomorrow the end of wait, and pain, and tears, and death.
Hope, in real things to come - just as He said.
That's why we can ask now for just those things He's promised - living out hope in our asking, in our want of Him and His promises in fullness.
Isaiah 60 speaks of Israel in communion with Yahweh, foreshadowing the culmination that came in Christ Jesus,
Hope, in real things to come - just as He said.
That's why we can ask now for just those things He's promised - living out hope in our asking, in our want of Him and His promises in fullness.
Isaiah 60 speaks of Israel in communion with Yahweh, foreshadowing the culmination that came in Christ Jesus,
"to beautify the place of my sanctuary, and I will make the place of my feet glorious." (v 13b)
"you shall know that I, the Lord, am your Saviour and your Redeemer, the Mighty
One, of Jacob". (16b)"I will make your overseers peace and your taskmasters righteousness." (v 17 b)
"You shall call your walls Salvation, and your gates Praise" (v 18b)
"Your people shall all be righteous; they shall possess the land forever, the branch of my planting, the work of my hands, that I might be glorified." (v 21)
We are a people meant for unimaginable inheritance.
I want, with a desire that I've not known before, to be ready.
A child of inheritance - having received, receiving and waiting to receive.
Instead of ignoring it, thinking it's something way off for the far less jaded, like I have been. Instead of romanticizing about it, that the Spirit will so daintily place it in my lap without effort on my part. Instead of being disillusioned by past pains and unfulfilled aims, where the promise has seemed impotent.
I am thankful for:
- 'the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace'.
- Enjoying: together, & purged closets.
- Impromptu concerts in a park.
- Hope in Christ's promise.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Wide-open possibility
Last night, I was challenged. What would I do when I came up against things I found difficult to be thankful for? Being thankful and being happy do not always coincide – I could see the challenge mounting: gratitude is a discipline.
I will admit that possibility is something that I have been struggling with being thankful for. I’m a bit of a dreamer, and that can throw me miles ahead into ‘what ifs?’ and ‘hows?’ Sometimes I worry that I wont make much of all that He has given me – a wonderful career, education, a beautiful family, lovely friends. All this, I naturally manage by analyzing and making plans because I want to live my life well for Him. That’s kind of been my standard of Christian life up until this point – clamp down for Him.
I will admit that possibility is something that I have been struggling with being thankful for. I’m a bit of a dreamer, and that can throw me miles ahead into ‘what ifs?’ and ‘hows?’ Sometimes I worry that I wont make much of all that He has given me – a wonderful career, education, a beautiful family, lovely friends. All this, I naturally manage by analyzing and making plans because I want to live my life well for Him. That’s kind of been my standard of Christian life up until this point – clamp down for Him.
You can see I'm missing the fundamental piece (peace) of the gospel:
For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not
submit again to a yoke of slavery.
~ Galatians 5:1
In the midst of wide-openness, I’ve been feeling pretty raw. You’d think a person would be glad about unlimited possibility of living for God, eh? Well, I confess to you, I am asking God every day to give me a heart of thanks for His possibility. I want one; I’m just not there in fullness yet.
He tucks me under His arm, and shows me wonders, and my little heart is overwhelmed by His beauties.
Sometimes, I just have to close my eyes and let my heart settle, I just have no words. And all I can do is snuggle up closer to Him, centered again.
In the midst of wide-openness, I’ve been feeling pretty raw. You’d think a person would be glad about unlimited possibility of living for God, eh? Well, I confess to you, I am asking God every day to give me a heart of thanks for His possibility. I want one; I’m just not there in fullness yet.
He tucks me under His arm, and shows me wonders, and my little heart is overwhelmed by His beauties.
Sometimes, I just have to close my eyes and let my heart settle, I just have no words. And all I can do is snuggle up closer to Him, centered again.
This is a good time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)