Round and round we go, don’t stop until we’re dizzy enough to fall. Laugh at the circle engraved in the ground by our feet marching in rhythm. Sing another verse of the same old song. Forget the new lyrics begging for freedom because we’re too busy to write them down. Trapped in the same pattern we’re too lazy to escape. Another opportunity passed by as we say we’ll do it later. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time or maybe we were too scared to move. We were made for more than this.
One Foot in Front of the Other
Photo by Rachel Woodland (my amazing daughter)
Most days I write about good things, the passions of the soul, the deep longing for a savior and the glorious news that we have one. I write about joy and life and beauty. Then there are days when familiar monsters try to reappear and torment my heart. The most infamous carries a message he’s repeated in my ear for as long as I can remember, “You’re not good enough”. The smallest of criticisms can cause the sulfurous vapors breathed from his lips to sting my senses until I’m wasted and fighting to hold the tears inside a little longer.
Sometimes it builds, brick upon brick, cut upon comment, and little disapproval upon condescending stare, until the weight is more than my pretense can handle and I collapse. Sometimes the dam breaks early before my imposter smile can react.
Some days, I can wring the neck of the beast the moment he appears. My shield in place, I fight off every effort to discourage and hold my head high, knowing that I am called lovely and nothing else matters. I wish I could say I am victorious every time. I cannot. What I can say is that, in my head, I know he’s a liar. It may take a little time for heart and head to connect, but I will continue holding on and fighting harder each time I hear his raspy little voice until the voice becomes a whisper and eventually no more than a memory, a testimony of another battle won. It’s at least a step in the right direction.
I’m Hungry
I’m drinking in the morning. Splendid sights before me captivate the senses and awaken the mind. The sunrise out my window tosses red, orange and pink beams into the horizon, borrowing just a fraction of the majesty the omnipotent one holds. Such sights make me hungry to see more of Him every day.
If I could pull back a small corner of the veil of eternity and peek in, would I even be able to stand tomorrow? My legs would surely be the first things to go as my wobbly feet try to process what it would mean to take a step closer.
Who is like Him? The earth is His footstool. The heavens declare His wonder and still He thinks of me.
I know I cannot pull back the heavens for a closer look so, for now, I’ll put away my pen and dive deeply into the ocean of wonder contained in His word. I’ll always be hungry for more.
Into Dreaming
In my waking and my slumber may your presence fill my heart. When my eyes close let me see you clearly. When all of me is shut down and distant let me hear you shout loudly. Even when I’m unaware, you’re guiding me, warning me, comforting, drawing me near to your glory. My ever present refuge, my deliver, strength of my heart. I trust in You.
Let me dream dreams of vision. Let my passion be bigger than me. May my vigor for your purpose drive my life; a pen in the hand of a ready writer (Ps. 45:1). All I am I give to you, my desires, my dreams. Make them into something more. Make them lovely. Overwhelm, consume, edit my life until it portrays your message.
I’ll dream again and wait for you.
Proverbs 16:9 “A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps”.
Everybody Talks
I hope I’m not becoming a talker. I’m sure you’ve met people who you can sit down with for any length of time and you quickly see that they can have a conversation with anyone and escape can be difficult. Before long they might even be having a conversation all by themselves while you are plotting a polite exit route and thinking about a million things that have nothing to do with the words floating in the air. Often, I realize I can’t even understand them anymore. They are suddenly speaking an entirely different language referencing things that clearly interest them, but have no meaning or value to me. I sit there nodding along, faking a smile, trying so hard to be a patient and Godly woman and praying they don’t find me callous.
I’ve never been good at making conversation so in part I’m thankful for the talkers of the world. I think this comes from my mixed heritage. My mother is a talker. My father is one of the quietest men on the planet. Together, they made me, a strange concoction of timidity and passion. I may not be able to start a conversation but if you get me going, look out! I can talk a person’s ear off and not realize I’m doing it until I recognize the blank stare forming on their face and I can read the thoughts behind their eyes saying, “Good Lord, how do I make it stop!”
It doesn’t help that I have an opinion about everything. I feel very strongly about what I believe and this passion can sometimes become a myriad of soapbox appearances that others can find amusing or annoying or a mixture of both.
Over the past few months, I’ve made a commitment to work on controlling my mouth a little better. The tongue can be an unruly little booger. I hate those moments when I say something and I instantly feel like I shouldn’t have said a word. I know that a wise woman considers the words she’s about to inflict on the earth around her before she speaks. I want to be a wise woman.
Proverbs 15:1-4 “A soft answer turns away wrath, But a harsh word stirs up anger. The tongue of the wise uses knowledge rightly, but the mouth of fools pours forth foolishness. The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good. A wholesome tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.”
Scripture is very clear about how much of a mess we can make with our mouths. Proverbs 18:21 “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” I feel like this verse is often taken completely out of context and abused, but that’s a soapbox for another day. If you read the verses preceding this scripture, it’s speaking about offenses and strife. It can be so easy for us to say something that would offend someone or sow strife and animosity. This can cause others to fall into a spiritual state of emergency. Taming our tongue is important for us, for others and for our spiritual health.
James 3:2-11 “If anyone does not stumble in word, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle the whole body. Indeed, we put bits in horses’ mouths that they may obey us, and we turn their whole body. Look also at ships: although they are so large and are driven by fierce winds, they are turned by a very small rudder wherever the pilot desires. Even so the tongue is a little member and boasts great things. See how great a forest a little fire kindles! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity. The tongue is so set among our members that it defiles the whole body, and sets on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire by hell. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and creature of the sea, is tamed and has been tamed by mankind. But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our God and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the similitude of God. Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be so. Does a spring send forth fresh water and bitter from the same opening?”
Lord, let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you. Let me learn to be quiet when I should. Help me to bite my tongue when anything unruly tries to take control. Help me to think of the effect my words have on others and be a woman of wisdom and self-control.
Happily Ever After
I’m not sure where we got the idea that we wouldn’t face adversity. Many well meaning Godly men and women have grabbed ahold of principles about abundance, prosperity and healing and walk around like Job’s friends wondering what isn’t operating in a person’s life if they are going through a trying time. I hear expressions like, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” from folks who are longing for answers, for fairness from the universe. To quote The Princess Bride, (Rob Reiner, dir., 20th Century Fox, 1987), “Who said life is fair? Where is that written?” or “Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
Every great love story holds within it the need to overcome obstacles. We grew up on fairy tales and somehow got the moral all wrong. True love conquers all. It’s true. Christ proved this on a cross many years ago. Yet, when we are young, we expect to grow up, meet a prince or rescue a princess, find a painless adventure and live happily ever after. We somehow forget that the phrase “happily ever after” denotes that there was something before the present and future that wasn’t so happy. We’ve come through all of this and now, we can begin enjoying the spoils of our victory.
Sleeping Beauty and Prince Phillip overcame a fire breathing dragon and eternal slumber before their happily ever after. Snow White spent time hiding in the forest from a murderer, was poisoned by a witch and was rescued by a team of unlikely heroes only to face death until her prince showed up before her happily ever after. Belle sacrificed everything to save her father. Cinderella suffered slavery and persecution. Ariel and Eric fought a sea witch. Jasmine and Aladdin conquered an evil sorcerer. There’s always peril preceeding the victory.
Real life isn’t so different. I know so many men and women who have overcome tremendous odds in life and fight on. These men and women are the true heroes: The young man I know who lost both legs in a motorcycle accident who lives his life on prosthetics and lives to the fullest in spite of the circumstances, The wonderful woman at my church who suffers from MS yet volunteers consistently, offers a smiling face to those who walk in the door despite the pain she suffers consistently. The mother of seven I call my friend whose newborn twins battled RSV shortly after birth leaving one of them with cerebral palsy. She is light and life where others would falter. There’s the lovely lady I know who is battling cancer who through the agony breathes words of life and love to all those she encounters. There’s the woman I know who lost her baby at 26 weeks gestation and despite the heartbreak, she’s strong. She teaches toddlers the love of God every Sunday. She is a warrior. These are heroes. In their eyes true joy is evident.
My life was not always easy. I grew up in poverty. My family fell apart. My stepmother battled alcoholism and paid with her life at a very young age. My father was a thousand miles away. I married an addict, who abused me emotionally for years and chose substances and other women over me. I went through a divorce. But I am a fighter and refused to give up or give in to the pain. The journey is far too precious for that. My happily ever after didn’t depend on my circumstances. My happily ever after began the day I met Christ. He has carried me through every moment and blessed me abundantly in the midst of them all.
For me and most princesses, there is a happy ending. I have met my prince, I’m carried in the arms of a loving savior. I’m blessed with incredible children and the joy of building my very own fairy tale with my family. Everyday, I pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming. I’m blessed and I’m overflowing with joy. But I know the rains will come. Not everyday is perfect, but real contentment can be found in the middle of the worst situations through the love and refuge of a comforter, Emmanuel, God with us.
Paul was stoned, shipwrecked, beaten with rods and so much more, yet he fought on with joy! It seems to me that bad things may happen to bad people sometimes, but they definitely happen to good people also. Into every life, rain will fall on both the just and the unjust. It’s how we handle the adversity that matters. Jesus Christ is our joy and we can begin our happily ever after right now.
Christmas
Here lies a wandering world, numbed by silence and lulled to slumber in the bed of their own consequences. Hearts yearning for “something more”, frustration and longing for love and satisfaction gripping them with fists of disillusionment. “I thought my life would be different.”
Glimmer of hope, Jupiter crowned in Regulus, star to cut the darkness brightly. King of all wrapped in cloak of skin, divinity set aside in submission to meager mortal. Love beyond comprehension. Inconceivable wonder. (You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.)
Care and protection of the Godhead assigned to lowly frame of girl and boy. Unspeakable mystery. “Be it unto me according to your word.” Prophecies of old fulfilled in one. Odds too numerous to imagine. Proof through faith and Science of a living God who set the heavens in motion for this moment.
Christmas tree, gift of God, hanging sinless in agony for the very ones who scourged him. Forgiving and zealous for the waiting world. Accepting the blame for our mistakes. Tree of life, glorious cross. Beauty from despair, newness from death. Lasting satisfaction and peace given freely from scarred hands of mercy.
I am eternally grateful.
Photo by Gino Santa Maria
Common Sense when Speaking Please
Please indulge while I rant for a moment on basic etiquette and common sense.
As I’ve told you before, I am happily pregnant with my fourth little munchkin. The second trimester is so much easier than the first in many ways, but I’m encountering a new phenomenon that I don’t think I noticed the last three times around. As my baby bump is growing, I am finding that the comments I am receiving from the peanut gallery are growing and some of them are a little baffling.
I am perfectly fine with people commenting on the fact that I am showing or (hopefully) how adorable I look. I can even (in most instances) tolerate the occasional belly rub. Still, I wonder what is going through the minds of those who choose to use words like “huge” and “fatty” in reference to how an expecting mommy looks. I’ve been told, “You’re HOW far along?” while eyes roll and gravitate back and forth between my face and stomach. Or there’s the ever so popular, “Are you sure there’s only ONE in there?”
I was so grateful for the fellow mom that happened to be standing next to me yesterday at church and said “I always showed right away too” in response to the man who was telling me if I’m already this huge I’m certainly going to be REALLY HUGE by the time I deliver. I could tell in his face he was genuinely trying to be nice, but still…not too brilliant.
It seems to me that there is a certain insanity among those who would say insulting things to a woman whose hormones are raging in such a way that you never know how she’ll react. I usually possess enough self-control to push down the impulse to punch them or snap back irrationally, but I can’t promise that my strength will prevail every time. I admit that it is making me cranky! Maybe writing it all out here will alleviate some of the frustration and return me to a state of “normal”…at least that’s what I’m hoping for.
I made a decision at the beginning of this adventure that I would wear my baby belly proudly and I will continue to show off my HUGE-ness with a smile. However, please say a quick prayer that I don’t deck any poor, unsuspecting, well-intentioned but extremely misguided, blabbermouth who happens to call me fatty on the wrong day. 🙂
Need
I watched a newborn baby snuggled tightly to her mother’s chest in perfect peace amidst the noise and chaos all around. I sang with all I had in worship to my father, the author of all I am, the one we so often forget to acknowledge. We pursue Him in word and song, praying He will meet us where we are. We pursue the strength of His arm to sweep in and lift our heads from the weight of the burdens we insist on carrying.
The baby before me needs her mother’s arms to carry her. She gains her sustenance from her mother. Without her parents or someone to care for her, she will not survive, let alone thrive. Yet we act and live as if we are somehow independent.
My prayers changed in that moment.
I don’t want to long for an encounter with God or for His strength to meet me and carry me through moments I cannot handle on my own. I want to NEED Him! I realized He is faithful to meet us in the place of our need. I pray that I will need Him in everything. I pray I will worship Him from a deep knowledge that without Him, I cannot hold my own head up. Without Him, I am thirsty and hungry. Without Him, I am bound by the impossible weight of this world. Without Him, I am weak and broken.
In Him, I am alive. In Him, I can breathe deep and inhale the wonder before me. In Him, color awakens to brilliance. In Him, shadows flee, questions have answers, light and hope fill the places once occupied by darkness. In Him, I love and am loved. In Him, there is joy unexplainable. In Him, I live and move and have my being. Everything I need, He has given. My desires become captured by beauty and purpose. Meaning takes on new meaning.
Lord, I pray that I would be consumed by a passion and a need for you. I pray that I would continue to decrease making more room for your glory in my life. There is no greater joy. I am enamoured and captivated by you. As I seek you and find you, I realize that I can’t get enough of you.
White Washed Tombs
I took a drive today to a place I once lived. Something once so familiar now screams of distance and abandon, of days long past and reminders of how far I’ve come.
Even the sky is dim framing the homes fallen to disrepair, forgotten or ignored by the “noble” ones; still occupied by dreamers or those who’ve given up, a little of both, who am I to say?
The middle of the street interrupted by medians that were created a few years ago by those seeking to rejuvenate or beautify the otherwise dismal. Live oaks and palm trees stand like proud pillars lending shade to the mass of flowers beneath. Anything to train the eye to ignore the reality and focus on the seemingly lovely.
Money spent to cover up instead of resolve. Funds allocated to appearance instead of wholeness and recovery. An attempt to buy hope for the broken instead of introducing the need to the one who IS hope, the answer, the truth.
Maybe that’s what we’ve become. White washed tombs who hide our need behind proud pillar smile and flowery words. Broken and bound within but perfumed and covered by manicured skin and rote responses, “I’m doing great! How are you?” “Blessed and highly favored” though the words lack sincerity and genuineness.
My heart breaks for the broken ones, the ones hidden behind showcases of beauty. Can we acknowledge the need and do something or do we drive by and focus on the flowers? Am I willing to allow my eyes to see? Am I broken for others and pouring out in prayer and kindness? Am I offering my hands and my heart or am I content with the covering?
Not just on the street among the drug bound and needy, but in the grocery store when I see someone who needs a smile and a word of encouragement. To the cashier whose day consisted of complaints and busy people. In the church where the people so often hide who they really are for fear of rejection (struggling with secret sin but too afraid to admit it and find healing)? Do I walk by and join the others, refusing to go deeper into the fray? Will I not be moved to compassion for another?
Am I a white washed tomb, who appears to have the answers but never provides a solution? Am I real? Do my words show the genuineness and compassion of a loving, infinite, savior and comforter who longs to mend the broken-hearted and restore the weak.
Lord, break my heart for what breaks yours. Here I am, send me.
INSPIRED BY THE COMFORTER 