Thought
The Edge of the World
In my own little world I become numb
The small of my back resting in a small little chair
In my small little house on a small little street
In a small little town
Where the green grass grows all around, all around…
The days go by one by one like a blur and I forget to open my eyes
Perspective is a thing gained in increments, easily ignored, or swallowed forcibly
We can either look straight at the moments that define us
Or recover with as much grace possible when life hits hard
I hope to choose the former

So here I am on the edge of the world realizing that there is a vastness so much greater than me
Adventure so much grander than I have imagined
A people gripped by more need than I have acknowledged
There are tears I have not shed in prayer
Hands I’ve refused to hold for fear of soiling my own
Eyes I have not looked deeply into
Thirsts not quenched by the reaching of my own hand
Somehow here, my mundane seems to lack meaning
To make an impact above the ordinary
To excel in the midst of the mediocre
To fulfill, suddenly becomes the only source of fulfillment
I am made full by the pouring out of all I am on the altar
The emptying of self in reasonable service to the Most High
Deep calling deep within my soul
Revealing to me that I only live when I stop living only for me
Here on the edge of the world, I find a new beginning.
What to do while you wait
The thing about being in the Potter’s hands (Jeremiah 18, Isaiah 45) is that we don’t always know what he’s forming us into. Sometimes it might even seem like we’re sitting on a shelf and waiting until He’s ready to do something with us. Isaiah 45 taught us not to argue with the Potter about the final outcome, but what should we do while we wait?
In I Kings 19, God tells Elijah to go anoint Elisha as prophet in his place. God has a mighty purpose for Elisha. We have the benefit of being able to read the whole story so we know that Elisha will do mighty works for the Kingdom of God. God will use him to perform miracles, obliterate wickedness, speak the word of the Lord. His ministry will be great.
I’m sure Elisha knew God had called him too, even before that day when Elijah showed up. He was quick to recognize the mantle and anointing of Elijah and follow him when he called. He didn’t just follow him, he gave EVERYTHING to follow him. That shows me that he was already following the Lord with his whole heart. He was waiting for instructions and activation in his ministry. God was faithful to give it.
But what was he doing while he waited?
I Kings 19:19 “He was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen, and he himself was driving the twelfth pair.”
When Elijah found him, he was plowing the field, tilling the soil, planting seed. He was already using what he had to make something.
When it feels like you are waiting around for life to start, for God to use you to do something big, why don’t you use what you have in your hand to make something beautiful. Start plowing. Plant a seed. Speak words of life to those around you. Be a smile to a hurting heart. Be a willing ear to someone who needs to let it all out. Help carry someone else’s burden. Pray with a neighbor. Talk to a stranger. What’s in your hand? What can you do now?
Don’t wait around for something big to happen, start spreading life NOW. The big things will come but even if they don’t, your life is about right now. Today always impacts tomorrow so spend it wisely. Make like Elisha and grab a plow!
Signs, Confusion and Forever
I confess, I’ve been known to take a shortcut or two. Time is a precious commodity in my life. Somehow, I’m convinced that I have less of it than most people, so occasionally, I improvise. Usually, it gets the job done so I don’t sweat the small stuff.
Still, there are suggested uses provided by manufacturers for a reason. This becomes apparent when I grab my favorite sweater out of the dryer only to realize it now needs to be passed down to an 8-year-old since it was intended to dry flat. Just like that, it’s gone.
I must also confess that I’ve never taken the time to figure those dumb laundry labels out. When I do take the time to read the label, I’m greeted with Pictionary instead of language. I know I could easily look up their meanings, but ‘ain’t nobody got time for that’. So I guess and just wing it. It’s usually just fine, but not always…
But maybe the world operates on symbols and not just words. I get it in some cases. Road signs could become very tedious if we clearly spelled out the meaning on everyone. How many accidents would be blamed on “I was trying to read the sign”? Some things you just have to make an effort to learn. 
I haven’t decided which category marriage falls into yet. Sometimes I find myself trying to decode the symbols and I just know I’m shrinking a sweater. I wish we could just find a way to clearly spell it all out so there would never be any confusion. Yet, there’s a lot of wisdom in NOT saying everything that pops into your head in the heat of argument.
So maybe it’s just part of the adventure. There’s an art to marital communication. It’s a blend of language and charades, verbal and non-verbal, argue and make up.
Sure, I’m going to mess up A LOT, but you better believe I’m going to keep trying. I may be far from perfect, but forever is always worth the effort.
When You Stop and Think About It
Have you ever read something that’s going viral that you agree with completely and then you can’t get it out of your head? Not because it was any new concept or trans formative thought, but because you’re suddenly struck by the notion that it isn’t common sense to the mass populace. You realize that the way you try to live your life is foreign to others. Somehow you’ve become the anomaly. Selfishness has taken the place of selfishness everywhere like an epidemic.
Then everywhere you look, there are reminders of this fact and you wonder how you never saw it before. Then you grow increasingly concerned about others because of this realization and you wonder if maybe a small voice in the mass void can make a difference.
Then you realize that by nature of the fact that the aforementioned viral piece went viral, one lone voice already has. Then you realize that if that voice called to the masses, maybe yours can too.
Then you sit down and write the circular reasoning down and send it out into the void so maybe someone else can come to the same conclusion and stop and write or speak up or sing or do whatever it is they do. Then maybe one voice will become two voices or one hundred or one thousand or one million. Then maybe the collective voices will proclaim in unison that there is a better way.
Give of yourself. Make a difference.
“Our greatest fear should not be of failure but of succeeding at things in life that don’t really matter.” Francis Chan
Who Told You that You Were Naked?
There they were in the garden. Man created in the image of God. A single rib taken to craft stunning beauty, a helper designed with detailed intent, a companion worthy of him. The crowning achievement of the Father warranting an affirmation of “goodness” from the lips of the one who’d just spoken the world into existence.
There were no thorns to prick the skin. There was no need to till the ground. The earth yielded abundance to them from divine mist that covered creation each morning. That alone is phenomenal to me, to think what it must have felt like to be covered by a mist sent from His own hand. What was it like to truly be kept…to walk with God in the cool of the day?
Then along came a serpent…
Even now his slanderous tongue spews poison to our souls. Did God REALLY say? Is there something more He’s not telling you? You can be like God. Dig deep within and listen and you may hear it. The scar on humanity left at the scene of the slandering. The whispered notion that it’s not quite good enough.
I hear it from time to time, the echoing accusations slither in to tell me that at the core of me I am naked and I should be ashamed. At the end of the day, when I’ve done all I could do before collapse, I hear the whisper that I have not done enough. I don’t think I’m alone in this. The scores of books written telling us how to a better parent, a better wife, a better lover, a better businessman, all serve as proof that we humans have an innate drive to be better. We forget that God looked at His creation and called it “good”.
So we sew leaves into coverings and though we are firmly planted in the garden of His grace, we feel the need to hide. We are ashamed and lulled to discontent by the siren song of something more. It looked good and pleasant to eat. Maybe the wisdom we attained, the knowledge of good and evil, was only the ability to discern the complete goodness of God juxtaposed against the inadequacies of man. We look at what God created as good and pure and view it as neither.
Don’t misunderstand me, when sin entered the world, it brought with it a world of death and ugliness. I do not in any way think that we should look upon sin as acceptable and call the ugly beautiful. But Adam and Eve didn’t just hide their sin. They also hid themselves, their beauty, their security, their intimacy. They hid from God.
God didn’t despise them, he called to them, “Where are you?” He longed for them. They felt exposed and unworthy…naked and ashamed. His simple question still rings out over the earth. “Who told you that you were naked?”
Who told you that you aren’t good enough? Who told you that you are a bad mother? Who told you that you aren’t a good enough wife? Who told you that you don’t make enough money? Who told you that you’ll never amount to anything? Who told you that you are ugly or not thin enough or too thin? Who told you that your ears are too big or your nose or your eyes?
Whoever it was and whatever it was, it wasn’t God. He looks at His creation and rests and calls it good. He looks at your abilities, your talents, your personality, who you are at the core of your being and he sees a masterpiece. You are the only you. He knows everything about you, even the ugly stuff and he still loves you.
Fortunately for us, He made provision for the ugly stuff. That day in the garden, he promised that would bruise the head of the liar and crush him underneath the heel of the redeemer (Genesis 3:15). He made good on that promise using some wood, nails and an empty tomb and exalting forever a Savior. So the next time those whispers try to slither into your soul, remember that you aren’t naked anymore and drown those whispers out with gladness.
Isaiah 61:10 “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord,
My soul shall be joyful in my God;
For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation,
He has covered me with the robe of righteousness”
O Ye Stubborn Masses
I come from a long line of stubborn women. I too, am stubborn and opinionated. It’s just a fact, plain and simple. It can be a gift. I will not quickly bow to the fanciful voices of other gods vying for my attention. I firmly stand in the face of opposition with confident composure believing wholly in my cause. I am a woman of great faith. But like any great strength, once overextended it can be an area of weakness.
There are two areas in particular that come to mind where this is the case. One, when the stubborn individual is just flat out wrong. I don’t mean in cases that are subjective either. Have you ever met someone who is holding firmly to something without foundation, baseless and formless? They try so hard to stand on the vapor and can’t imagine why anyone would proffer the suggestion that it may not support their weight. They’re falling, yet every attempt to catch them only leads to more insistence that they are just fine and dandy. The rest of the world is forced to watch, helpless, as they crash. It’s so frustrating and often leads to the second area where stubbornness can be a problem, when two stubborn people face off.
The stubborn face off can occur when one stubborn individual confronts another stubborn individual on matters of principle. Both equally passionate parties will live and die for their ideal. Neither will yield or compromise. Neither will even entertain the notion that the other party may have even the slightest bit of sense behind their argument. So they lock in and stand off. Most of the time, both have an element of rightness on their sides. Sometimes the argument is beyond pointless and doesn’t matter at all in the grand scheme of things. The wise man, in such a case, would agree to disagree and walk away, but we’re not always wise are we? I vividly remember arguing with my brother for days when we were younger because he insisted that the sky was never blue, it was in fact purple. It seemed a noble cause at the time.
Other times, the argument is of vast importance. In situations like that, shots are fired, wars are fought, governments are shutdown…okay I’m not going there.
To the stubborn individual, rightness is a necessity. I know one stubborn person (who I am in a stubborn face off of sorts with at present) who will idly throw out a remark and the run before I can respond. It irks me and makes me laugh at the same time.
The truth is, I’ve decided that sometimes peace is better than rightness. Though I would be tempted to fight the battle to the end and slay the demons that I deem to be clouding the truth in another person’s mind, if I know the battle will not lead to healing, the fight will lead to deeper cuts in an already wounded soul, then the most loving thing I can do is to remain silent. Sometimes words I offer with the best of intentions, fall on deaf ears and further divide the heart of this person who I long to see live free. It is then, that I, the stubborn one, must learn to love instead of lead. I often need to learn to bind up what’s been broken instead of proving truth to a heart not ready to hear. This is not an easy thing.
Do I possess enough love for another that I can surrender my sword of correctness to offer support when the vapor isn’t going to hold? Maybe I can even come underneath the falling soul and break their fall with kindness and mercy. Maybe that is what Christ did for us. When we were blinded by our own agendas and sin, Christ loved us enough to be crushed, bruised, beaten and scarred. Then he rose victorious, taking with him the keys to all the things that could come against us. He held captivity captive and freed us from the prison of…us. He, the only one who was actually right all of the time, was willing to die, not to prove himself right, but so we could be right before the Father.
I would venture to guess, eventually we will all realize that we don’t know nearly as much as we think we do.
Words, Words, Words
Words are a powerful thing. With their assistance we brave daunting emotions and weighty issues. We express our inmost thoughts and our deepest fears.
Words can cut through the soul to the inner man bringing both healing and harm. Words can be followed by joy, embraced by laughter or lost in sorrow.
There are words we set to flight that we’d like to grab back quickly like the bug the fly snatches mid-air with his rasping, sticky tongue.
There are words we could repeat infinitely and still never exhaust; the “I love you’s” whispered, yelled, proclaimed, declared and given freely.
In the inexhaustible I find a sweet malady. When I’m struck with more emotion than I could possibly utter. Those 2 a.m., “watching the baby sleep” moments. I’m there grasping internally for a way to describe the sentiment and find myself empty but so incredibly full.
How do we pinpoint love on a page? Many have tried but is such greatness definable?
It’s no wonder the heavens declare the glory of God because we would never be able to scratch the surface of the topic. We are so limited in our vocabulary, with our finite minds and detail-oriented natures. Yet there He stands, incalculable, boundless, limitless, vast and grand. And we should be in awe. We should stumble and wrestle with our verbiage in attempt to bring Him the praise He’s due. We do this not because we know we will succeed, but because what else is there?
We bound through life tossing words around like confetti, littering the landscape in an effort to bring joy, excitement, inspiration and meaning. Let us also fill the air with words of thankfulness and praise like the stars that paint the heavens as each word floats on frequency to the ears of one who hears it all.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” John 1:1
Words are a powerful thing!
Sing me a Song
I’ve been singing and playing music in church most of my life. I wrote my first song when I was three and my mother insisted that I sing it for everyone. I clearly remember refusing to do so unless she held my hand…she did. It was my solo debut. To answer the most commonly asked questions, yes, I still remember the song. No, I won’t sing it for you, but here are the lyrics (bracing for the embarrassment…remember I was only three)
Jesus, I love you
Jesus, I want you to be my friend
Jesus I’ve heard about you
How you hold the future in your hands
Jesus, I love you
Will you live inside my heart forever more?
I’m guessing it was adorable! That was all it took for me to decide I was meant to sing and sing I did…constantly.
We lived in Houston, TX for a while when I was four in a pretty rough apartment complex. I remember three things about Houston: my boyfriend whose name was Jesus (he thought all of our songs were about him), the SWAT team coming through frequently to collect whatever maniac was wielding a firearm that day, and getting up at 6 AM every morning, standing on the balcony and loudly singing to the world “See the bright light shine, it’s just about home time. I can see my Father standing at the door”. For the record, the neighbors didn’t think I was quite as adorable as everyone else did.
I was the “song leader” for my Daddy’s church when I was six primarily because we didn’t have microphones and I was the only one who could sing loud enough to be heard above everything else. I have always loved to write music. I am working on two new songs right now. We just played a new original of mine in church last Sunday. I’m not trying to toot my own horn here, just laying a little groundwork to let you know that I am very passionate about worship and music. It’s a part of me.
What I’ve realized, however, is that the thrill of operating in my calling is absolutely nothing compared with watching my daughters operate in theirs. I mean NOTHING! They are now teenagers (13 & 16) and play in the youth band at church and are on the worship team with us in ‘big’ church. Sunday, as we played the newest song I’d finished writing and my daughter’s bass guitar was ‘rockin’ it’, I was caught up in the moment. It’s a great thing to operate in your calling. It feels amazing to let God take over and use the gifts He’s given you to minister to others. It feels even more amazing to see your children or others that you’ve poured into, use their giftings to further the kingdom of God.
My pastor has told me many times that I should always work myself out of a job. The best thing we can do as believers is to find someone to come alongside us that we can pour into, mentor, minister to, teach and encourage. After all, the things that will matter in the end are the legacies we leave behind. What footprint did we leave on this earth? Did we use our time to further our own agendas or did we use our time to leave a lasting impact on another person?
Parenting gives us a unique opportunity to impact another human being. Sometimes the impact our parents make on us is positive, sometimes…not so much. As I think back on my life, some of the most profound influences and inspirations in my life were people other than my parents. There were the sisters in Christ who arranged “gigs” for me throughout my teenage years. There was the pastor/worship leader who would push me to reach higher, sing louder, let go and go for it. There was the dear sister who told me the phrase I still think of every time I step out to lead worship or write something a little extra personal; “Don’t hold back”! My grandfather inspired me to play guitar. My best friend has spent countless hours with me writing and playing music, polishing lyrics and trying to discover new chord progressions. My parents definitely inspired me, but these people spurred me on into my calling.
As I think of the impact I make in the lives of others, I’m forced to evaluate how important it is to me to take the time to make a difference in someone else’s life. It is taxing sometimes to spend hours on the phone with a friend whose heart is breaking. It is hard to put work and household duties on the back burner to go have coffee with someone who wants to get to know you better. It takes an effort to teach a guitar or vocal lesson or read over lyrics or poetry written by someone you barely know and give honest feedback that will encourage them to keep going. But these are the things that matter. The encouraging words spoken today may grow into faith in the soil of another heart. The time spent just being there for someone may make all the difference. The prayers shared together may bring just enough strength in a moment of weakness. The honest critique may birth wisdom. The lesson may inspire greatness.
We may never fully know the impact we make, but even if we aren’t afforded the opportunity to eat the fruit that springs forth from small seeds we’ve sown, we are rewarded for our faithfulness to the author of life who inspired life within us. That alone, is worth more than anything.
On Days When it Sinks in
You know that feeling when something hits you? I mean REALLY hits you! Those moments of clarity when something you’ve heard a million times suddenly is alive with meaning. I think of Isaiah’s words in Isaiah 6 when he says “I am undone”. The gravity of what God is doing or has done finally sinks in with all of the weight of glory it carries and I’m left “undone”.
Today, I heard a rendition of the classic hymn “How Great thou Art” by Stuart K. Hine. I’ve sung this song countless times and still do break it out in a moment of impulse when leading worship. I KNOW this hymn. Yet today, as I heard the third verse, it grabbed me by the spirit and pulled me into a new state of awe at the wonder that is my God.
“And when I think that God His Son not sparing, sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in. That on the cross, My burden gladly bearing, He bled and died, To take away my sin”
I know you’ve heard it before. I know it seems simple.
I scarce can take it in…
There is a God. I’ve met him. He’s wonder beyond definition. He breathed the stars into being. He spoke and the earth took shape. His hands molded man. Every cell and system was imagined by him. Every hair on every head is numbered. No tear or smile escapes his gaze. The universe declares his praise with vastness we can’t fathom. Numbers don’t go high enough to measure him. Words, as much as we love them, can’t even begin to fully describe him.
Yet, he loves me though I’ve done nothing to earn acclaim. Though I am dust and water breathed to honor him and have failed so many times. Though I have turned away and forgotten time and time again. He sees me, a prized creation, a masterpiece.
His son not sparing…I scarce can take it in…
It pleased him to take my burdens, my shame, to reconcile me to himself. He considered it joy to bring me peace through his suffering. “For it pleased the Father that in Him all the fullness should dwell, and by Him to reconcile all things to Himself, by Him, whether things on earth or things in heaven, having made peace through the blood of His cross” Colossians 1:19-20
And now I stand…free…not by works of righteousness which I have done, but according to His mercy He saved me. (Titus 3:5) Every sin banished forever, taken away and remembered no more. Every mistake no more than a memory.
I scarce can take it in…
Every now and then, it hits you…those moments when you realize what the gospel really means. Those moments when I realize once more how great he truly is. I am undone.













