Something About Good

Tuesday, March 9, 2010


I've had so much time to think recently, and not so much time to process my thinking, to bring my scattered thoughts to real. But something is coming clear, something about inadequacy, my own God-gifted inadequacy.

The only solid thing that comes to me is this: that God has been very good to me and I have not deserved His goodness.

It is something about having a child whose high needs I can never fully meet. Something about her needing God too - for life, for help, for love, for discipline. It something about a place to begin teaching her of His care for her.



It is something about letting go, and about holding on, an almost-wish that these young, small days would last longer because I cannot get close enough to the smiles, the cooing, the giggles, the uncertainty, the pleas for time with Mama that will just never be enough.



This something is about a really big God. A really, really big God whose wrath is overpower, whose wrath will one day drive those who hate Him to curse His name without repentance. It is something about being held by this God, something about a strong love, eyes that burn like fire, a King on a white horse, a Gospel and a testimony that draws my eyes upward, outward, into Him who is Spirit and not like me.

Have I made Him too small in my need to justify myself, my life, my inadequacy?


It is my inadequacy that teaches me to embrace His power. It is my empty that begs His full. It is my dust that requires His glory.

I see so well where I have failed and where I must not fail. I try so hard to perfect myself, to be unbroken, to do the right thing every time. It is too much for me. I will never be enough. Not for this loving of my children, not for this serving of my powerful God. I can never cover all my bases.

If not for Christ, I would be destroyed. This something I cannot quite describe is at once terrible and comforting. It goes beyond all I have ever known, lives in a realm I cannot finger or photograph, draws me from the daily into the eternal and helps me trust a Person who provided for my redemption from this body of sin.

The uncontrollable pain I own in child-bearing, the transition and change in life that sends me spinning out of my comfort zone, the unrequited longing I know for my husband, time slipping through my fingers like so much sand - these are the gifts of His goodness to me, the painful, beautiful etchings of life under Adam redeemed in Jesus.


I cannot pretend to understand.

I can only be overwhelmed. Only offer up my thanks, wordless thanks that is more than emotion, that draws all of me up into Him, that bows me down before Him, and the eyes of my heart wonder beyond the dim reflection at the mystery that will be no more one day when I behold Him.

I can only taste this goodness that I will never be enough to earn.

...

Shared in the blog carnival hosted at Bridget Chumbley's One Word at a Time today.





(Images © Informal Moments Photography)

When Barren is Beautiful

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Thank you for this thorn embedded in my flesh;
I can feel the mystery, my spirit is made fresh.
You are sovereign still and forever wise;
I can see the miracle opening my eyes

To a proud heart so quick to judge
Laying down crosses and carrying grudges.
The veil has been torn -
And I thank you for this thorn

Thank you for this thorn, fellowship of pain
Teaching me to know you more, never to complain
Thank You for this love planted in my side,
Faithful patient miracle opening my eyes.

I never thought I'd say it without reservation,
But I am truly grateful for this piercing revelation
Of a proud heart so quick to judge,
Laying down crosses and carrying grudges -
The veil has been torn,
And I thank you for this thorn

And if You chose to take it, I will praise You
And thank You for the healing in Your name.
But if it must remain, I thank You for Your rod
Evidence of Father-love for a child of God.

I join You in the sorrow,
So much less than You have borne,
And I thank you, really I thank You...
Lord I thank You; I thank You for this thorn


- Twila Paris, This Thorn
I hever saw myself posting this song, or even echoing it from my heart until today when I found myself humming it, voicing it, singing it during a diaper change.

Yesterday's words
were for me. I meant only to give voice to myself and my struggle, meant only to shovel out some of my personal winter to make room for some spring.

Today, writing from here, I am nearly wordless at the depth of the response. I look at your words poured out in yesterday's comment box, filling my email inbox - words of encouragement, affirmation, identification. Words and prayers and Scripture and hope to refresh me, to make me feel young again, to let me know that there is still life to be had, to reach for my heart with yours and wrap it up and send it heavenward.

I have said thank-you so often lately, I can't help but respond with grateful all over the place. I am still with amazement today.

Today has been a slow day, a quiet day, a sunny day with March winds in January bearing growing excitement for us. It has been a day for making room, for choosing trust, for having and holding and trying again.

His mercies are new every morning, I learned in my first round of depression, when every night I fell into bed feeling I'd failed, knowing I'd handed in my miracles. They are still new, every morning.

This is what His faithfulness is.

I can't begin to describe it for you. It is simply something I know.

Last time I walked this path, I wanted what I wanted - the assurance that I would not lose, the end of my pain for crying out loud. God Himself was not reward enough for me. I was alone because I chose my isolation from His grace.

I am not alone this time. I could not have written what I wrote without the new knowledge I have of His love for me.

When I wrote yesterday, I could not thank Him for this, but today I step gingerly into praise. I learned last time not to feel guilty for the good days.

Worship aches out in breath today, in not-so-studied bed-making and hair-doing and nursing and diaper-changing and in writing and in cooking, which I have done.

There are not words adequate for this grateful, for this sense that God cares - He really does.

I look outside, absorb the sun and the blue and the trees and the glory of the morning traveling into noon and into early evening. The smile comes deep, peace that barely curves my lips, peace that lightens my eyes.

He has borne my burdens; you have borne them with Him. He has enriched my soul; He has used your words to do it. He has given me a good day; He has given me Himself.

Should it stun me that I am not wasted after four days in the dark? Should I be so amazed that I am not destroyed?

I am.

And I am, quite frankly, humbled. It as if I am seeing the world through different eyes today. I keep blinking, trying to make sense of it all, trying to figure out what to do with this "enfolded" feeling, with this "surrounded" feeling - this safe that isn't even a feeling so much as it is a faith.

I don't understand why I should feel beautiful like this. Why I should feel cherished like this. Comforted like this. Quieted like this.

Who am I to deserve such treatment?

Slowly, I learn now to pray.

------------------------


This post also linked at Holy Experience for Walk With Him Wednesday.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

What's In His Name?

Wednesday, January 20, 2010


Her name was Bethany.

It was such a big deal that her name was Bethany. It still stands out in my mind. I get into names.

She said that God had given her that name.

She said that she had known God intimately, the way I wanted to know Him.

She said that God had taught her to surrender fully and completely.

She said a lot of things.

But she never mentioned the name of Jesus.

...

Want the rest of the story? I'm guest-posting for @katdish today. Click over to "Hey Look, a Chicken!" to find out how God used my encounter with Bethany to reveal my own incredible need for Jesus.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Point of Reference

Wednesday, December 30, 2009


No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father's side,
has made Him known.


- John 1:18





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Sometimes I wonder...

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


...if it really does any good to pray.

And on days like today, I stumble into the reality that God listens. And answers.

You who are praying for me, I am in awe. I am almost hesitant to accept the strength, the encouragement, the rays of sunlight, the uplifted mood as everything shifts from clouds to color and brightness.

The waiting isn't hard today. My heart isn't so heavy as my stomach feels, hanging off my front, bigger than ever. His good is falling down around me, and I'm heart-staring in unwarranted surprise.

I have no explanation beyond your prayers.

It's humbling for me to ask you to continue. But who can knock this? Especially realizing that He is listening to you. Answering your prayers. Caring for me. Showing His care for you in His provision for me.

I think I don't need to be so hesitant to offer to pray as I have been.

Thank you for praying for me. For your involvement in teaching this heart more about His heart.

Ya'll (lol - my ode to having moved South!!! - did I just SAY THAT???) are incredible.

"Praise the LORD! Oh, give thanks to the LORD, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever."
(Ps. 106:1)





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Considering Grace

Monday, December 7, 2009

Then they said to Him, “What shall we do, that we may work the works of God?”

Jesus answered and said to them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He sent.”


- Jn. 6:28-29
I consider what He does not demand, remembering words shared in nighttime with one who does not yet grasp this faith, and I am awed. Who am I that I should understand? What have I done that He should bestow such grace so freely upon me that I should do this work He ordained for me?

The listing comes easier today:
*51: Today, I know who I am in Him

*52: I am not afraid

*53: Rose-gold light and

*54: Autumn-Christmas leaves afire with glory

*55: Baby-growth in-womb waiting

*56: Quiet to rest for God-timing

*57: Sun when it was supposed to be cloudy

*58: Tears - not all are bad

*59: Snow to make a younger brother's dream come true

*60: A younger sister's horse-dream realized

*61: Onesies and stocking-stuffers come by mail

*62: Conversations and prayers with loved ones waiting

*63: Community who cares where I did not know

*64: Three more projects finished and

*65: An unexpected toddler nap
------------------------


This post also linked at Holy Experience, sharing with the Gratitude Community in listing my own One Thousand Gifts.






(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Breathing Through

Friday, December 4, 2009


The night passes in five, ten-minute intervals.

I am conscious that I am resting, drifting in and out of dreams and silly head-stuck songs, aware of baby-movement, of womb-tightening that has not stopped for hours.

It is an almost-normal night. There is a full moon. Pete wants to rest early; Piper napped at five, so she is awake. She plays with my hair, sticks her fingers up his nose. She giggles when my fingers find her chin in the dark, and I giggle too, and she giggles again, and we both have the giggles. Pete is grumpy. I cuddle her close.

Soon.

The midwife has been called. She is resting too. I am glad not to disturb her tonight, worried that each contraction will be the last, that I will be embarrassed because I did not know - again.

But I know. It will be soon.

Morning breaks quiet, and still they come.

I eat. I drink. I remember another morning like this, so nervous. Mom and Dad came in the thunderstorm the night before. We slept and woke and waited almost all the next day. And then Piper came, and I was a Mama.

I am not less nervous now.

Pete has left for work early, to take care of some pressing things, while Piper sleeps and labor comes slow. I breathe through as I sit, willing the baby to drop a bit, hoping to hold him soon. He was busy last night.

The pain comes low, insistent, then eases. I surrender to it, last night's shock-shivers lifted. I consider how this pain - of all pains - begs me to my knees; I wonder how I will meet God there today.

I hope it will be today. This can go on for days, they say.

I open my hands, mutely asking His nearness, His entrance into this journey of mine. The tears aren't from the labor. They are longing welling up, vulnerable seeking sufficient.

And I can ask this, for the labor of another mother brought God human into our life. Into our death. To bring Life that is God with us.

The full moon sets; the sun rises through clouds.

I wait for Him.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

When I Grow Old

Thursday, November 19, 2009

I want to grow old
as October eases into November into
December and back again into Spring,
gracious in gray, clad in winter's first

white

as a bride wears a dream on her wedding day.

....

I want to find beauty
in windswept snow-ridges
on hands that were smooth and smile
at mirror-face
with unchanged eyes
the same soul peering out,

a little wise
a little joyful
a little seasoned with
some Christmas spice and a bit of blizzard passion

invigorated

like peppermint meeting brisk winter wind in the new year.

....

I want not to die
before breath slows - and stops
,
leaving flesh wrapped in allspice,
red earth-petals peeled, hibiscus layer of
fallen dust lingering sweet as kisses for
those I have loved alive, while in death

I live anew in
April fullness, in
summer glory, in
autumn memory, my spirit rising on spring

life-breezes

like a kite in a scented wind embraces the whole sky.

....

I want finally to dwell full alive
in I AM
who is

Beginning
and
End
and
Eternal,

passing like the seasons at winter's end
from shade-limitation into full exposure,
bathed in new God-glory,

beginning

as a wizened babe breathes first breath on its birth-day.

....

for this I was born, for this
I live
.
-------------------------------

Written in response to L.L. Barkat's poetry prompt - Fruits, Herbs & Spices (and the occasional snap pea & golden beet). A bit of a play on words took this from spices to seasonings to seasons, but I thought I would submit it anyway. Just something I've been thinking about.






(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Under Grace

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


Growing in Grace

Does "growing in grace" mean that I am to grow in my understanding of grace, or does it mean that I am to grow up into Christ covered by grace? Perhaps it's both, for growing in my understanding of grace is essential to releasing myself into it for God to complete His work, perfecting in me the image of His Son.
Therefore, beloved, looking forward to these things, be diligent to be found by Him in peace, without spot and blameless; and consider that the longsuffering of our Lord is salvation—as also our beloved brother Paul, according to the wisdom given to him, has written to you, as also in all his epistles, speaking in them of these things, in which are some things hard to understand, which untaught and unstable people twist to their own destruction, as they do also the rest of the Scriptures.

You therefore, beloved, since you know this beforehand, beware lest you also fall from your own steadfastness, being led away with the error of the wicked; but grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

To Him be the glory both now and forever. Amen.


- 2 Peter 3:14-18

To Him Be the Glory

Sometimes I wonder what effect my choices really have on what God thinks of me. I don't think He needs me to be one way or another - after all, I didn't choose Him - He chose me. Not only did He choose me, He called me out for His own glory, just as He did not call others out for His own glory.

Pete and I have been reading through Genesis with Piper before bed. She's not really interested yet - Abraham and Isaac and Jacob are right up there with Mickey Mouse and Curious George in her estimation. While she may not be engaged, her parents have been talking a bit about the lives of these three men.

Abraham had a relationship in which he walked with God. Isaac seemed to do okay without thinking much about it. Then there was Jacob, who really was a scumbag when Esau appeared to have a sense of honor. Yet God said elsewhere, "Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated."

Why would God choose a deceiver like Jacob? Why would He appear as an anonymous man and wrestle with him, tell Jacob he had prevailed against God and man, bless him and care for him, even though he was pretty self-focused and disinterested in relationship with God, except when he needed Him?


A Relational Center


When I was growing up, I asked my dad what made us different from other people who believed in God - what set us apart from the "religious" and authenticated our faith? His answer, "We have a personal relationship with the Lord."

I know now that is a more radical concept than I believed then. Even people who talk about "personal relationship" are too often focused on a legalized approach to "right and wrong" without considering our Helper, the Holy Spirit, sent for us after Jesus' return to heaven. So many churches I have attended preach right and wrong, simply assuming God-relationship. But the insidious fact of this legalism is the neglect of the Gospel, and the Gospel is everything.

The whole point of Jesus' Cross-work was to reconcile us for relationship with God. This relationship is made possible by His Spirit, speaking to us the mind of the Father, teaching us eternal things Jesus didn't have time to teach in His short ministry here on earth.

Too many times, I have wasted spirit-energy in self-searching instead of trusting God to search my heart as only He can do. Too many times, I have trolled down a do/don't list that tells me how to make God happy with me instead of reconciling myself dead to sin and alive to God.

Too many times, I have overlooked the fact that I have been crucified with Christ. Instead, I choose to wear a sin-cloak that is no longer mine to wear, thinking that I can get light out of an LED flashlight I'm throwing randomly around in the dark.


What Shall We Say, Then?

The choice that is left to me is not simply right or wrong. It is life or death. If I believe Jesus, I may choose to consider myself dead to sin and alive to God, or I may choose to subject myself again to a yoke of bondage.

God has much to do in me yet, but He knows and remembers what I often forget in my sincere but sometimes-too-pressured desire to please Him - that I am dust. That my dust cannot handle all of His Godness at once.

I need to grow beneath the shelter of Christ-grace: my death His, my sin His, His righteousness mine, His life mine. Even my faith is not of myself - it is the gift of God - and why should He have chosen to bestow it on me?





(Images © Informal Moments Photography)

Daybreak: I Recognize Desire

Sunday, November 8, 2009


For background to this post, you may want to read Friday's post, Trusting Love: A God-ramble from a Broken Heart

-----------------------------
I didn't always doubt love.

Once, I trusted easily. Too easily, it seemed.

That was before God let my heart break...
He let it break like a wave on the shore, leaving sand and shells and foam and litter behind to fall back into the sea and break again against Him, tide flowing in and out, a restless broken heart always seeking rest, never still until He stills me.
By the time I finished, the realization that I'm still aching for His love - in spite of everything I've been through with Him! - left me bemused, disillusioned.
I think I should have noted that I have been here before; I am always here again, because I do not do the things I want to do, and the things I don't want to do, I do.
I assume that even His "yes" will eventually become "no," so even the good gets rejected, and I am afraid to accept what He gives. The bad lesson pain too often teaches.
My surface-grievance is become habit, and I ramble and bumble my way through feelings and theology and what-I-know-that-I-know. I share the scribbled questions without resolution.

Faith doesn't require my answer - but I look anyway.

I ran across this last week, and wondered if God was trying to convict.
There I was minding my own business, relishing some bitterness about my grandmother, and the Holy Spirit broke into my thoughts with an unusual assertion... that I was being an idolater, putting myself up on a pedestal in an act of self-worship over and against my grandmother.
- L.L. Barkat, excerpt from an interview at Holy Experience
Nothing moved in my spirit. Just a still and quiet "wait."

A friend left this in her comment on Friday's God-ramble. Surely, this must be His confirmation of conviction.
One of the most telling Scriptures in support of this fact is "You shall have no other gods before me." If I say, "God, I can't be happy without such-and-such," I am essentially telling Him there is something I want more than Him.

- Excerpt from Christy's comment
Again, I looked inward, searching, asking God to search. But no. Still the quiet, "wait."
"What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead."

- Phil. 3:8-11
I read, and reread, and something soft and real and alive with joy pinged in my heart, ringing like a clear bell through the too-familiar clamor of the questions. Something that had nothing to do with "He gives and takes away" and everything to do with "blessed be the name of the Lord."

A year ago, I didn't want Him at all. Oh, I had no choice but to believe He was there, being God. Some things just are; He is one of those undeniables.

But I. couldn't. choose. Him.

My reasons were many: perhaps then it entailed some of the idolatry detailed above; perhaps it was my humanity, sin striving against Spirit for an assumed right.
Thus my heart was grieved,
And I was vexed in my mind.
I was so foolish and ignorant;
I was like a beast before You.
Nevertheless I am continually with You;
You hold me by my right hand.
You will guide me with Your counsel,
And afterward receive me to glory
.

- Ps. 73:21-24
I tried to push Him away. He was too much for me, for my heart. His kindness seemed only to hurt me more. He could not be my greatest treasure, the object of my desire.

Do you remember how Hezekiah laid his enemy's letter out before the Lord? Sometimes, I have to do this with the questions, with my feelings, say "this is what is here, God. I can't figure it out."

In Jesus, "sin shall not have dominion over [me], for [I am] not under law but under grace." (Rom. 6:14) As I acknowledge His Life in me, I know I have done - and can do - nothing to earn this grace to doubt and fail. I lay me out in front of Him, and sometimes in front of the world, embarrassed at my humanity, my foolishness, my easy disillusionment.

Finally, on the heels of the wait comes a phrase from a prayer, a quote mixed up in the whisper of desire... "how high, how wide... the love of Christ."
For this reason I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, from whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might through His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height— to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

- Eph. 3:14-19
He is not holding out on me as I have feared. He is granting me Spirit-strengthening. Love-grounding. The questions I have shared are the beginning of comprehension - of width and length and depth and height - the beginning of knowledge of the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge...

And the ping of joy ringing in my heart?

I actually want to know it. To know Him. To be filled with it - all the fullness of God.

Somewhere in the struggle - or in pushing the struggle away and being still and letting Him be God - my desire has changed. Somewhere in my quest for relationship with Him, He has become the object of that desire. Knowing Him means finding a Person at the end of my questions, learning to trust His heart instead of my experience-concepts of the God of the universe.

It is the most surprising thing to me, this awakening realization of desire. I no longer own a "want-to-want Him." I almost don't want to want Him, because it leaves me so vulnerable. But like a woman who has fallen in love, I just know He's the One who is meant to hold my heart.

And here I am, being invited into His.

I think He expects to take my breath away.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Trusting Love: A God-Ramble from a Broken Heart

Friday, November 6, 2009

I didn't always doubt love.

Once, I trusted easily. Too easily, it seemed.

That was before God let my heart break, before I knew the reality of loss, that choking, heart-wrenching physical pain of chosen vulnerability shattered, crushed, left for dead.

That was before I learned about God's sovereignty, His uncompromising, inevitable comforting ways that are higher than mine.

The story is not an easy one to tell. I was younger then, not so cynical as I am now. I don't want to think of myself as cynical, but I know that I am. Back then, it was a chosen cynicism, confirmed through minor experience that turned out to be my own misunderstanding of the situation. Now, praying for exceptions to what has become the rule of my experience yields little but disappointment.

Tuesday's post surprised me as I was writing it. When I began writing, I thought I was just frustrated with God for being God again. By the time I finished, the realization that I'm still aching for His love - in spite of everything I've been through with Him! - left me bemused, disillusioned.

I'm embarrassed to admit it. Embarrassed that He still looks like you-didn't-bring-K-back to me, embarrassed that He still seems only like God-who-takes-away to me, embarrassed to admit my non-thankfulness because I don't trust His giving. I half-laugh at my concept of Him - "God, the Indian Giver."

Pain changes things. Not always for the better; not always for the worse. My initial suffering (my health problems, work issues, dropping out of school) was minor compared to the soul-questions I have asked - no, screamed at - the God of the universe. See, I get that He is that. The God of the universe. That He is I Am. That He is higher than I.

What I don't understand in the deep of me is His care for me. I don't understand that from anyone. Not after once accepting, believing, trusting it, and having it crushed by the very person who once offered it.

I know God is not a man. I know God is Love itself - Himself.

I was good at Geometry. I loved having the solutions to my problems pre-defined. Just plug in the right postulate (this is this, then this must be that, now that must be this) and you can understand the problem. Similarly, there is much about God I can accept as fact, build a doctrine, craft my system of belief.

But in relationship with Him, the postulates only go so far. Because relationships are not pre-defined. They are not solution-driven. They are often a morass of miscommunications, misunderstandings, misconceptions - and emotions gone haywire over much of the above. Since my heart broke, simply "doing the right thing" when it comes to God has become nearly impossible.

I wonder if I have enough faith; then I wonder if the faith I have is misplaced. Is faith for something like moving mountains, or in Someone, the Person of Jesus Christ? And what does having faith in Him mean for accepting love in relationship with God?

Sometimes, I think if I just made up my mind to believe it, it would become real to me. But I know from long experience - that's not the way it works for me. I'm not really sure it's the way it works for God:

But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. (Jn. 1:12-13)

You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should remain, that whatever you ask the Father in My name He may give you. (Jn. 15:16)

The Psalmist speaks often of waiting on the Lord. I can make up my mind about what I'm going to do in regard to Him, ask Him for help, and wait for His response - if it doesn't come in my time, does that mean He has abandoned me, does it mean He doesn't love me or care about me? I don't believe it does - I clutch at His faithful, knowing He is stronger than I, that for all my struggle to comprehend faith that is solid evidence of the unseen, He yet holds my heart in His hand.

I am so afraid He will allow it to be broken again, and I know I do not yet comprehend His perfect love that casts out fear.

I fear God. I reverence and often rejoice in His higher ways, His immutability, His God-prerogative. Yet, this holy fear often caves to very human fear, the kind that has me hunkered into my corner trying to protect myself from being hurt again by Him, by others.

I am so out of control. I have often heard that trust is a command, but I wonder perhaps if it isn't more of a plea: "Trust Me. I am so good, if you will just believe Me..." He is not so helpless - He could force His hand, MAKE me trust Him. Just like He could MAKE my life go perfectly as I wish.

In both cases, though, relationship would be broken. In the first, His will would dominate and destroy - where my transformation through deeper knowledge of Him would serve better to strengthen mutual love. In the latter, my wishes would control, and God who is I Am would be subject to the whims of someone who doesn't see what He sees, no matter how much foresight the fruit from that tree gave to me. There would be no unity of thought, no oneness, no submission that fosters trust.

The strongest faith, I believe, is faith that does stand in the face of my why, that is solid in spite of my fears, faith that carries my heart beyond my shattered conception of God into the reality of Him and His real love. Twila Paris sings, "This is the faith, patience to wait when there is nothing clear..."

Wait when I decide to listen and He doesn't say anything. Wait when I ask Him for help and make up my mind to do better and fail miserably. Wait when His love for me doesn't appear to be the love I want.

Piper doesn't trust us for the "no" yet. Oh, when she's scared and wants to cuddle, she's all over us. But when we tell her "no" she doesn't yet understand that we have reasons we can't explain for our "no." She can't see what we see, hasn't seen what we've seen. She breaks relationship with her "stop eet, stop eet, stoppp eet!!!" and runs to hide from us.

She looks a lot like me relating to God sometimes.

Only I assume that even His "yes" will eventually become "no," so even the good gets rejected, and I am afraid to accept what He gives. The bad lesson pain too often teaches.

Years ago, when I chose to love at God's request and direction, I stepped out believing that God was capable of completely healing my heart, even if He never fulfilled all my wishes.

I would ask why the healing takes so long. I know the answer lies in His care for me.

He is incredibly patient, isn't He?

I learned this week that autumn leaves don't simply fall off trees. The trees must actually throw the leaves off, for the risk of blooming too soon and being killed during a warm winter spell would be too great if they remained.

He knows when my time to bloom will be. He knows how much of Him I can handle now, what must be shed from my soul for me to rest in His love.

This is what trust is about, I think; living as He created me to live, believing He will do what is best to sustain the life I now live in the flesh by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.

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*This photo of mine got featured over at High Calling Blogs today! So exciting!
*Need an earlyish Christmas idea? Check out these images for prints - available for a limited time only!






(Image © SXC)

The Word - a Meditation on John 1

Thursday, November 5, 2009


In the beginning...

It was the right place to start, the same place the story of our being had begun when Moses had written it long before. But his story was different. It was about the world, but it wasn't. It was about a Man, the God-Man whose love he had known.

In the beginning was the Word...

The Word, a Person, not inscribed on any page, inscribed on every page, 33 years and eons of being that would never be written, for all the volumes in all the world could not contain Him.

The Word was with God, and the Word was God...

I imagine his pen, pausing over the scratched-ink words he'd written, imagining his Friend at the beginning, spinning world and universe and tree and flower and heart in His image, sense his wonder as he repeats himself:

He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.

Telling His story, telling our story, the part we didn't know from Moses' telling, the redemption planned from the very foundation of the world, set from the beginning of time, the defeat of Satan before he ever deceived Eve, drew Adam into sin.

In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

As he wrote, searing pain at what he had seen mingled with joyful incredulity, sunset and sunrise at once, beginning and end tangled up in I Am, Alpha and Omega, incarnation and Resurrection, the Son of Man who was God who was Life and Light, who was his Friend, Jesus.

He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, and the world did not know Him. He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him. But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

Spirit-born again into God-inheritance, drawn by something higher than reason, redemption greater than the fulfillment of the Law - the words flowed faster now, passion-driven, aching with understanding that had seemingly dawned too late for him.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth... And of His fullness we have all received, and grace for grace. For the law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has seen God at any time. The only begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, He has declared Him.

Breath stopped for just a moment as he penned words Jesus Himself had spoken and realization wakened fresh so that he thought his heart would burst with the aching wonder of what he had seen.

All this time, He, John, had been walking with God.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

undefined

Friday, October 16, 2009

I've been blocked for content lately.

Not that the birds aren't still singing, the breezes blowing, the sun rising and setting, the clouds dropping rain and humid all over the place - bringing out the mosquitoes...

I could blame it on the tired that has me sleeping dead through the night from the time I hit the pillow, drowsing through the morning until my three-or-so-hour stint on the couch to relieve the sitting-up pressure from my growing baby belly. I could blame it on the toddler who is pushing all of her boundaries and asking for new ones as she goes, requiring more of my imaginative power. I could even blame it on the photography processing looming over me for a finish this month.

But I'm not sure that is the problem. I'm not sure there is a problem.
Something is happening, far beneath the surface of my daily life and worn-out responsibilities, something that began years ago with a niggling longing and a prayer that I should desire God more than anything or anyone else. I can't describe it, but I am aware, aware that He is drawing nearer, drawing me nearer - and if I turn and look at Him, stop and listen, I will find more than a lesson, more than a growth opportunity, more than the comfortable, controllable, explainable.

It almost frightens me; I don't run toward it eagerly. I take it measured, as a gift I don't know how to open, don't quite know how to receive, love that comes after a broken heart, so strong and so patient. I acknowledge it, and it travels deep into heart-quiet as I ponder what I know of it - what I know of Him.

Tears come easily, frustration easier; I am tenderized without my consent between toddler interruptions and disappointed expectations and my shallow daily failure.

How do I write this? So many others have written it better. How do I live this? It is yet undefined, and my humanity demands a to-do list for self-improvement. My grammatical conscience demands a defined "it."

"What is stopping you?" a friend asks, encouraging me to embrace the new, as I encourage others. "Nothing," I want to say, "It is unfolding here inside me, filling me up, taking me over, transforming me, renewing me."

It is a me I do not know, broken, redeemed, freed, and broken again for love of Another who invites my soul up into Himself, into Love that isn't my love, love I couldn't choose in the small strength I own, love I couldn't accept for my timid.

I wonder if I am too isolated, if I should surround myself with people for more insight, a more constant flow of ideas; I sense His quiet "be still" in a wilderness I thought was finished. Here I stand on the far bank of the Jordan, waiting the call to cross into Canaan, waiting the will to go, waiting for the parting of the waters I cannot pass on my own.

I think there are not often words for the circumstances of the spirit, not definitions for the steps we take in the journey our hearts travel toward God, with God.

So I stand still to see the salvation of the Lord.

Because there is really nothing else I can do until He bids me step into the river with Him to walk through - or to walk on water.





(Image "paint me a picture of this cloudy day" © Informal Moments Photography)

this grace

Friday, October 2, 2009


It seemed at times there was never a chance at grace, really. "Saved" from one right way into a different, higher right, the true way, the "straight-and-narrow" (which turned out to be wider than many imagined, because it took no work of the Spirit to get there). Just worldview and logic and argument and a good act that wasn't quite an act because it was sincerely lived and believed.

Of course it involved pride-breaking, admitting to disagreeing perspective, trading old perspective for new pride, safety, control - but never true God-humility, that broken, contrite heart-sacrifice where grace-growth is born at the feet of God - no, at the end of His extended scepter.

And so they inflicted the same wounds they received, because the wounds were never identified, treated, healed, never broken open and bled out to mingle with the blood of the One who already bore them in His own body. Instead, pain was covered over with answers and empty God-explanations no one can really be serious about making, no matter how sincere they intend to be.

The meeting was essential for accountability, but most always He was late to arrive, as if He was putting off His visits, salvaging His Name for something holier, something Truer, wishing to introduce Himself as who He was, I AM, the beginning and the end of life-grace breathed from His own God-nostrils into the dust of His Son, into His Spirit meant to hold His own for Him until the day of Redemption.

And that was it - there wasn't a chance outside of Him for grace, no breath without Gospel that is Jesus Christ crucified and alive and full of grace and Truth. Not a chance outside of God-given faith that could not be dredged up or imitated, for who really has faith in a certain Hope these days, when it doesn't hold a certain requested result?

No one has grace for this but Him, for yet a little while, as He is finishing the work He began, spilling over God-patience into the Love that He is and out onto His Chosen who sometimes think they are doing Him a favor with all their good intentions.

For He knows what is not yet seen in His Spirit, that grace and good works and true love is found in knowing Him, and that way is narrow, and discovered rarely without Spirit-help as He reveals I Am to those who think they already are.

I lived here once, and I have been given this grace to not know and this grace to know now.

But the living there...

--------------------------------

Also visit Amber and L.L. Barkat for a bit more on grace and a giveaway...






(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

The Gift in the Ache

Monday, September 14, 2009

© Informal Moments Photography
Sometimes, I want this more than I want Canaan, more than I want to live the faith that led me out of my chosen earth-home to follow my husband where God opened a door for him, for us. Sometimes, my lip quivers and I swallow tears, watching light and countryside and memories I have loved flash past, peeling away with a lingering ache behind our car as I ride back into yellow and scrabbled foliage and heated flatlands that just aren't home.

It is time, I know, to let God lead us, and He does in His time, in His way that is not my way. It is very vulnerable, this faith of mine that hopes, hopes, hopes He might lead us back to a place we know and love, while living grateful where I am, learning to love a new place for what He has given, despite the biting bugs and allergic humidity and soupy yellow light. And when He gives good, the holding-it-loosely feels as though it will break me apart with the constant knowledge that it won't last, it can't last, I can never be home here, because my heart-home is with Him, beholding Him, more complete in Him than I can fathom or dream or imagine.

I wonder where Canaan is, wishing it was here, half-praying an earth-fulfillment of the promise, knowing and groaning with an ache and a hope that wasn't mine before Jesus, before His Spirit filled me up with desire to be one with a heavenly Father, my Abba who cares for me.

It is a repeated theme, a constant reminding ouch to redirect my eyes from here to hope, an unfulfilled wish, thwarted desire that draws me into Desire Himself. And joy is quiet, glory-light seeping into my heart through diamond-tears, crystal-tears, salt-and-water-tears, something outside my dust. I see His faithfulness. I learn to trust His slow working that feels too slow, but must happen in His time, when He brings morning after the night.

It is time, I know, to be grateful, and I will learn rest again, because I know He is good.

Is this contentment, this whole-body-ache that keeps me stayed in Him? I probe and I ponder and I cautiously assess His gifts, Himself, the Truth that is a Person, the Word that is not mere words, that lives powerful in me and binds my heart up with Him.

And in the all-I-want-and-do-not-have, I have found the real, the grateful,
the small house that is not too small,
the baby boy growing and living in me,
the little girl learning new words and new love
parent hugs and sister hugs,
and little-brother salvation to leave me speechless
one soft night in my home-bed
and enough. Today, I have enough

and God is good and He is who He says He is, and I am not afraid.
------------------------


This post also linked at Holy Experience for One Thousand Gifts.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

"What, Trust Him?"

Saturday, August 29, 2009

I've been here before, asking Him where He is, why He doesn't change things, why He allows things. I've been here for me, and for strangers, and for people I love.
Why do the nations rage,
And the people plot a vain thing?
The kings of the earth set themselves,
And the rulers take counsel together,
Against the LORD and against His Anointed, saying,
“Let us break Their bonds in pieces
And cast away Their cords from us.”


- Ps. 2:1-3
I know why they rage. I know why I have wanted to set myself against Him as they do. I feel I have some right to demand His acquiescence to my ideas of life, my boxed-God concept of who He is. I weep with it:
LORD, how they have increased who trouble me!
Many are they who rise up against me.
Many are they who say of me,
“There is no help for him in God.”


- Ps. 3:1-2
Why would He let Himself seem so weak? Why must He always work beneath the surface, in ways we cannot know or see or speak or predict or understand? Why does knowing Him hurt so much sometimes?
But You, O LORD, are a shield for me,
My glory and the One who lifts up my head.
I cried to the LORD with my voice,
And He heard me from His holy hill.

- Ps. 3:3-4
A shield to block enemy blows, or a shield for my eyes, to keep me from understanding until all I do understand is that He is God and I am not? He hears; sometimes He does not move when I want Him to move.
I lay down and slept;
I awoke, for the LORD sustained me.


- Ps. 3:5
Waking. Still breathing. Still sustained. I almost don't wish to be. I almost wish away His help. The waiting is interminable today. This vortex-reality is only partially mine, a growing horror, crushing helplessness. When anything that can go wrong does go wrong without heavenly intervention, when my eyes have no proof of the salvation-God my heart knows is still good, I breathe hopefully, and then I scream, and I remember.
I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people
Who have set themselves against me all around.

Arise, O LORD;
Save me, O my God!

For You have struck all my enemies on the cheekbone;
You have broken the teeth of the ungodly.
Salvation belongs to the LORD.
Your blessing is upon Your people


- Ps. 3:6-8
And blessing doesn't always look like finished houses and lucrative jobs. It doesn't always look like daring rescues and thornless existence.
How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long shall I take counsel in my soul,
Having sorrow in my heart daily?
How long will my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and hear me, O LORD my God;
Enlighten my eyes,
Lest I sleep the sleep of death;
Lest my enemy say,
“I have prevailed against him”;
Lest those who trouble me rejoice when I am moved.


- Ps. 13:1-4
Consider and hear. Your reputation is on the line here, God. You clothe lilies. You care for sparrows. Why these daily sorrows, weighing more and more?

So I find my love limited by what I can see. If I was God, I would... but I am not. Eternal God, God with no beginning and no end, He is wise to me, to my ways. I must seem very small and weak to Him, when I am weeping over today unaware of His tomorrow-knowledge.

I would take of His bounty without apology, unconscious of my own offense, too offended by His God-ness, nearly blinded to His compassion for me. I do not want to trust; it is my right to withhold me from Him. Perhaps to punish Him, trick Him, manipulate Him to my perspective.

Yet I am naked without Him to clothe me. I am not so powerful as I wish to be. I'm not enough to sway Him. I am not God.

I practically throw my self up into Him now, "here, take it, You want this?" and I throw my loved ones into Him too, though He has held them all along, working heart-work with His God-patience, revealing Him to them in ways I do not know.
But I have trusted in Your mercy;
My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
Because He has dealt bountifully with me.


- Ps. 13:5-6
My heart shall rejoice. Future tense. More than I can believe in this moment. I will sing to the Lord. Tears and rage and childish petulance falling out into praise of Him. A promise. He will not leave His work in me unfinished.

He does not abandon those He loves. He is near, if I will but be with Him, rest with Him.

and a child shall lead...

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

She pitter-patters across the hardwood floor into the kitchen where I work. Already, her request is on her lips; she grabs my arm and puts it on repeat, like a recording. "Peease, Peease, Peease..." I am not God. I don't want the interruption. I don't want to hear from her right now. I look at her, annoyed. She doesn't notice my irritation. She knows only that she has gained my attention.

Her face lights with anticipation. "Okay! Okay! Okay!"

Oh my. She is so certain of my answer. She actually believes I have a desire to grant her request for "petz" or "phfaces" or "ban-ban-a" or "dink."

She makes me wish I did have one. Her "prayer" compels me from my concentration to lavish something good on her, despite the interruption. Her excited gratitude that I have listened (even though she expected - no, coached - my happy response) knocks my spirit over.

I wonder, when was the last time I prayed with that faith in the goodness of God? Omnipotent God, who isn't annoyed by my prayer, omnipresent God, whose work isn't interrupted by anyone or anything, a God who is Love, who would not give His children a stone when they ask Him for bread. When have I prayed as this little child, certain I am praying His will for me?
The LORD will command His lovingkindness in the daytime,
And in the night His song shall be with me—
A prayer to the God of my life.

Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God;
For I shall yet praise Him,
The help of my countenance and my God.


- Ps. 42:8, 11
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This post also linked at Holy Experience for Walk With Him Wednesday.





(image from sxc)

encounter

Monday, August 24, 2009

My understanding of God is too easily conceptualized, tacked on, understood, approved. I take Him for granted. I assume His thoughts. I live what I know; I am not always circumspect; I do not remember He is awesome God. Awful God. More than I am, indefinable, uncontrollable. I do not want to remember. I do not want to encounter Him.

I don't want to encounter Him when I'm cleaning, toddler-chasing, cooking, figuring out the dailiness, choosing my life. When I'm good and ready, I'll receive His Person, talk about relationship. Confess my fear of relationship with anyone and especially with all-powerful Him. Tell Him straight I can't survive my own stark vulnerability.

If I encounter Him and He is all I know Him to be, I think my heart will explode. My soul will be seared. I will be changed. I already have been. My words might live - no longer dropping habitually (or even intentionally) into speech and writing, attempting deep authenticity over a shallow approach to relationship with Him, feeling the hypocrisy of unanswered questions, unrefined faith.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, but I am told not to be afraid with any terror; I am terrified of Him. Afraid of Love itself. His ways are not my ways, and I don't want to be so helpless, so humble.

How do I know He is True? It is more than a choice to believe. It is Him, His Holy Spirit, nearer than I realize in my dailiness, living in me with His unending groaning for union with the One who has redeemed me through His Son, set as a seal upon my heart. Terrible, wonderful seal that holds me here, comforts my terror, teaches me of Truth Himself.

I am such a child. I have a short attention span. I have not yet learned to worship an eternal Lover; I seek only an affectionate Father who gives plenty of room to go and to grow in what time I think I need.
"Are you not thirsty?" said the Lion.
"I am dying of thirst," said Jill.
"Then drink," said the Lion....
"Will you promise not to--do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.
"I make no promise," said the Lion...."I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the Lion....
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion.
"Oh dear!," said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the Lion.


~The Silver Chair
I'm dying of thirst, afraid to drink, and I know. There is no other Stream. If I drink deeply, I will encounter the Lion.
To that soul which has tasted of Christ, the jaunty laugh, the tempting music of mingled voices, the haunting appeal of smiling eyes — all these lack flavor. And I would drink deeply of Him. Fill me, O Spirit of Christ, with all the fullness of God.

- Jim Elliot





(image from sxc)

I live with them and I learn to pray

Thursday, August 20, 2009


I don't always ask P how he's doing. I don't always tell him how I'm doing. Sometimes, we are a series of interrupted conversations. Sometimes, we dwell, but not together.

I wish to pray without ceasing and hold my breath; only faith (that is God's gift) reveals God's face to me. He is my Life-line, though I weigh too much in silent introspection even as desire unfolds and aches toward Him from eyes that hope for understanding. I am shy to whisper words and feelings only just discovered.

There is no last word on how it should be; prayer is the ebb and flow, the interrupted conversations of relationship with One who wishes to dwell together, and every relationship is different. Every trust takes time to build.

I reach for P, and I reach for God, and our fingers brush and the dwelling is intimate; our hearts intertwine and there is nothing else in the world - except the toddler, who is always reaching, always asking, always praying for together-love.

I learn slowly.
As the deer pants for the water brooks,
So pants my soul for You, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?

Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him
For the help of His countenance.


- Ps. 42:1-2,5




(image from sxc)

in crimson

Monday, August 17, 2009


"For You do not desire sacrifice, or else I would give it; You do not delight in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart — These, O God, You will not despise." (Ps. 51:16-17)

The Questions came this weekend, asking if I love enough; I don't. The human kind of love I own, love that is wrapped up in my dust, easily distracted, is not so easily maintained. They asked if I loved Jesus enough; I hadn't been writing about Him, thinking about Him, including His name enough, they said. They challenged Redemption, invited Shame, suggested remedies with Fear's recommendations.

Three days it took to pour them out. Once I began, they came quickly, but the getting there, that was the silent, the torture time, the first two days... Like walking through mist upside down toward a cliff that fell up. Then my husband's chuckling grace-full "Hello, human" and the world righted and I found my place in it, not expert, not spiritual, not sensual, not perfect, too broken - but loved and not despised.

Here, Love wrapped Himself around Fear and squeezed it silent, dropping red around me, fulfilling the Law with Grace whose name is Christ-crucified-for-me, satisfying wrath, offering more than I deserve or return. I could feel again how I need Him. How I need this Faith, this Redemption, this comfort that comes from Him even when I don't know how to reach for Him.

Thank God that He loved me while I was yet a sinner, that He Himself has declared me righteous - and it is not my own to maintain. He stirs my heart, fills my vision again, restores, renews.

Monday morning rises, and I am dust again, slow to love, sure of Him though I am unsure of me. Oh, it is hard to live here when I want to "grow" and to be "spiritual" and to gain the affirmation I crave.
"Teach me your way, O LORD, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.

"I will praise you, O Lord my God, with all my heart; I will glorify your name forever. For great is your love toward me; you have delivered me from the depths of the grave.

"The arrogant are attacking me, O God; a band of ruthless men seeks my life — men without regard for you. But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Turn to me and have mercy on me; grant your strength to your servant and save the son of your maidservant.

"Give me a sign of your goodness, that my enemies may see it and be put to shame, for you, O LORD, have helped me and comforted me."


- Ps. 86:11-17
Once I asked God who I was. There was so much going on inside me, I didn't know.

His answer surprised me:

"For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him." (2 Cor. 5:21)

Yes, falling crimson round my failing heart, the sign of His goodness, the righteousness of Christ - the Grace to be both human and His.
One choice
One tree
One fall for humanity
One lie
One liar
One bite is all death required
One great regret
One squandered chance, and yet
One hope
One day
One name above all other names
One bridge between then and now
One way to discover how
One price
One tree
One drop of crimson covers me


- Nichole Nordeman, Crimson