prayer

I Want a Psalm 20 Heart

/ Jaimie / 2 Comments

I can be cynical and critical by nature. I blame the gift of discernment. I once heard someone say that our greatest weaknesses are our greatest strengths overextended. My intuition and wisdom can lead to an attitude fast if I don’t temper it. That aspect of love from 1 Corinthians 13:5-7 where love thinks the best of people and not evil does not come naturally to me. It’s something I have to be diligent about. I’m constantly crucifying my wary self to allow someone a bit more like Christ to come out.

This morning, I may have found the key to this in Psalm 20,

“May the Lord answer you in the day of trouble;
May the name of the God of Jacob defend you;
May He send you help from the sanctuary,
And strengthen you out of Zion;
May He remember all your offerings,
And accept your burnt sacrifice. Selah

May He grant you according to your heart’s desire,
And fulfill all your purpose.
We will rejoice in your salvation,
And in the name of our God we will set up our banners!
May the Lord fulfill all your petitions.

Now I know that the Lord saves His anointed;
He will answer him from His holy heaven
With the saving strength of His right hand.

Some trust in chariots, and some in horses;
But we will remember the name of the Lord our God.
They have bowed down and fallen;
But we have risen and stand upright.

Save, Lord!
May the King answer us when we call.”

I’m determined today to have a Psalm 20 heart toward every one I meet. I will cast my cynicism aside and choose to think the best about others. I will pray that they be strengthened and encouraged and that their prayers would be answered. I’m thinking if it will be a lot easier to truly love others when I’m busy thinking good things and praying blessings upon them.  Let’s all find practical ways to honor those around us today.

Stretched

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Bound

Bound

Stretched thin am I as faith and fear collide

Cascading plans, as towers, tumble to the waiting ground

Opens up to absorb them

Covers them with dust

All other ground is sinking sand

And I hover, helpless to save

In breath, I reach

Stretched upward like flame pulled higher

I become vapor

Seated on the air

Growing wings that carry me to the heavens

Prayer whispered, measured in golden bowls before Him

Worthy of all my praise

Worthy of all my trust

I gaze at the empty place my plans once stood

Knowing His are better

Knowing tomorrow He’ll open the heavens and restore all that was swallowed by the hungry ground.

Faithful

Stretched am I as my fear and faith collide

Stronger I am on the other side.

Strong

Lazy Soldier

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My quiet time is evolving. Where I once sat cozy on the couch with coffee on the table beside me and a mountain of books, three different translations of the Bible, a devotional, whatever Christian living book I happened to be in the middle of etc., now I sit with baby on one arm and tablet or IPhone in the other perusing my Bible app and the R.A. Torrey book I downloaded with my Kindle. I sneak in verses from the “real” paper and binding version of the Bible here and there throughout the day when passing by. It’s not bad, just a different experience.

This morning I was reading in Jeremiah and then Matthew and what kept coming to me was that the amount of relationship we have with God is entirely up to us. He constantly encourages us to seek Him. In that, in our seeking, He is faithful to be found and to draw near to us. We hold in our hands the ability to either be near Him or distant. Not the most earth shattering revelation but as I adjust to my new routine, I find myself needing to sneak in moments of intimacy with the Lord. I have to grab a scripture here and there instead of spending an hour soaking up the richness of the word. I have to remind myself to pray when I’m glued to the chair being a mommy. All of the sudden, my relationship and intimacy with God isn’t easy or easily attained. I have to dig for it. I have to seek and pursue and want it desperately, something that admittedly, I forget to do sometimes. I’m starting to think this is a good thing.

“As we advance in life it becomes more and more difficult, but in fighting the difficulties the inmost strength of the heart is developed.” – Vincent Van Gogh

“And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.” Matthew 11:12

We tend to fight for and work for the things that matter the most to us. I so often hear people complain that they have no time to read the Bible or no time to pray and I can understand this completely. It is difficult to carve out moments in the day when the demands of this world can be stilled in the mind long enough to truly focus on scripture. It is difficult to silence the voices of this world that press into our minds (all the things to be done, all the things said to us, all the happenings around us) long enough to engage in active and meaningful prayer. I contend that in those difficulties, we can attain the greatest prize. We, with violent persistence, can resolve to fight for that which really matters. We tiptoe clumsily through this mundane existence, watching life go by us and forget that this is merely a drop in the ocean of eternity. This life, this here and now, is fleeting and only that which is eternal will matter. Shouldn’t we diligently fight to find those moments of clarity? Shouldn’t we run with all that we are to the wellspring and remember to drink deep?

I fear I have become a lazy soldier. I pray today that I will begin to violently run toward that which matters. I pray that in that pursuit, I might become strong. I pray that in ALL things, I would learn to seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness. At the end of the day, that is the prize and nothing else matters.

IMG_0421 IMG_0423 IMG_0498Sword Drill

 

Perspective

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Image

Photo by Rachel Woodland (my daughter)

The sun sits full above the earth beneath. The day is in motion, bustling as my list gets longer though I work through tasks one by one. I am taking this moment to still myself and realize how blessed I truly am. Tiny baby feet kick my middle filling my heart with love and the knowledge that everything’s okay. The older kids are off to school and I know I’ll see their smiles soon and have a chance to hug them and laugh with them.
We sold my old van yesterday…the one I refused to drive at some point because it was just too unreliable and I wanted better. We sold it for the amount the junk yard was willing to pay us for the scrap metal. The family that picked it up was so thankful and appreciative and felt privileged to be able to drive it home. We told them about every problem it had, every hiccup, the fact that the a/c was broken and the passenger’s side window couldn’t be rolled down because it wouldn’t go back up, the missing headliner, yet they talked about how they’d never let the kids eat in it and mess it up, how precious a blessing it was to them. I realized our perspective was skewed. I realized how blessed I truly am.
The funny thing is that I can remember the days when there wasn’t food in the pantry and the car didn’t run and the floors had holes and the house had rats. I remember the beans and cornbread for weeks straight because that was all we could afford. When I lost perspective I don’t know, but somehow I forgot to remember to be thankful for the blessings I have now. Worldly possessions matter so little, but I can so easily take them for granted or worry about how we’re going to pay for the baby that’s on the way or whatever.
Yet here I am, in my comfortable home, with clothes on my back, food in the kitchen, transportation in the driveway, kids that amaze me daily, a husband who overwhelms me with love, a new baby bouncing to the rhythm of the keys as I type reminding me of life and new beginnings; and I can become overwhelmed by the trivial.
Lord, let me never forget to thank you. Let me stop when the hectic hits and gain a little perspective. Let me remember to hold everything in my life with an open hand realizing that it all belongs to you. Let me give freely and love deeply. Let me surrender everything for the sake of your kingdom. All you ever asked for was all of me and I am yours.

Prayer

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When I open my mouth, let your words come out
Let me not be afraid to open my mouth
When I look, may I see through your eyes
Let me not be afraid to open my eyes
When I take a step, calm and guide my wobbly feet
Let me not be afraid to walk
When I pray, may I seek your desires instead of mine
Let me remember to pray
When I sing, be the melody and frequency that carry the song
Let a song be ever present on my tongue.
You be the voice. You be the strength. You be the brain. I’ll give you my throat, my hands, my all. I won’t settle for less.

Need

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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

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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.

Gotta’ do what you gotta’ do

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Whoever said pregnancy was magical must not have dealt with morning sickness. I have, in my four pregnancies, experienced varying degrees of first trimester ickyness. This time hasn’t been too bad until the past week or so. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that folks ask how I am feeling and up to this point, I’ve been able to say that I’m feeling great despite a little fatigue and the occasional nauseated moment. So since I was bragging, I am getting hit with the big guns. I am not feeling so good these days! Even as I sit here and type, I feel more and more rumbly in my tumbly. I’m sure this post will be cut short and revisited before it becomes complete as a result of this.

I realize that this is a completely normal part of a healthy pregnancy so I try not to complain about it too much (though my husband may disagree with me about the quantity of my whining). I also know there are little things I can do to stave off the nausea. The most effective is for me to eat something which always makes me laugh when I think about how ironic that is. When I feel the least like eating and the most likely to be unable to eat, I must eat in order to feel human again. What an awful trick?!

Like so many other things in life, the principle holds true that sometimes we need to do what is good for us regardless of whether or not we feel like it. My kids rarely jump out of bed first thing in the morning bursting with excitement about another day of school, but they need to go in order to grow. I rarely revel in the thought of a tough workout (try NEVER these days), but if I want the results I go for it anyway. I rarely find my kids begging for more zucchini or broccoli (except for my oldest who is abnormal and prefers veggies to meat at ALL times) but I know they need healthy foods to be healthy so they eat them anyway. Sometimes, I don’t feel like spending an hour in prayer or a little extra time in the word, but without prayer and study, I cannot maintain my spiritual health.

I am sitting here at lunch time trying to determine what I’m going to try to ingest to calm my queasy midsection and nothing sounds appetizing but I either eat or I continue to feel miserable. What we need may not always match what we want but that doesn’t mean we won’t end up with the desired result. God knows exactly what we need and what’s best for us. Instead of trying to beat the system and get our way, maybe we should just do what we know is best and get rid of the ‘icky’ for awhile. Sometimes we just gotta’ do what we gotta’ do.

Of Life and Pinatas

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My son just turned six as you can see by my previous post “Birthday Thoughts from a Mushy Mom”. In typical “mushy mom” fashion, I let him convince me that he NEEDED a piñata to celebrate properly. Even in the store while purchasing said piñata all I could think about was America’s Funniest Home Videos and how it seems nothing good can ever come from such a thing…which led to my thinking about how on earth I could convince my husband to help in this activity as usually it’s the man assisting who ends up getting whacked in conspicuous places.

My husband and stepfather proved to be very wise men. They configured a pulley system of sorts from which to hang the piñata while providing ample distance between them and the onslaught of small people swinging bats. This also provided the perfect opportunity to mess with the youngsters by moving the piñata at random times thus disorienting them. You can watch what happened as my nephew Malachi stepped up to bat in the following video

We spent a lot of time laughing that day and I’ve watched all of the videos I took of all of the kids taking a whack at it, and I’ve laughed some more. Still, the last couple of days it’s gotten me thinking…

I can’t help but think that often I’m just a kid with a bat swinging randomly hoping for contact. God’s watching and probably laughing at me from time to time. Maybe He’s even moving the piñata occasionally to see if I’ll stay centered & listen for the sound as the prize inside swishes around.

We all have blindfolds on. Maybe it’s just the concept that we see through a glass dimly until we see Him face to face. Maybe it’s just that we allow things to get between us and Him and cover our eyes. The biggest tragedy isn’t when we can’t see, it’s when we don’t listen. He that has an ear, let him hear.

The kids eventually succeeded in breaking open the piñata and enjoying its spoils and so will we as long as we patiently endure. “And so, after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise.” Hebrews 6:15

Lord, help me to keep swinging and listen carefully.

The Correction Connection

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I hate that I hate criticism!  I’ve always struggled with this. The smallest of critiques can make my brain shake. I know in my heart it’s ridiculous. I know the truth is that, “Whoever loves instruction loves knowledge, but he who hates correction is stupid.” Proverbs 12:1. My head & heart have run laps around this mountain for years, but still I sit here in my office fuming over accusations that are trivial in proper proportion, but just the fact that my proficiency has been questioned makes me crazy. The fact of the matter is that I was not created to be fully proficient at everything anyway. Again, I know that, but this awareness does little to still the maddening quakes of my pride.

I’m not proud of this fact, in fact I’m questioning whether or not I’ll actually allow this post to exit my computer & enter the world of the living. I hate that I am proud. I hate that I have flaws; I want to be perfect after all. The sad truth is that the very desire of my heart to be perfect may be one of the most imperfect things about me. I remember being in the fifth grade & crying myself to sleep every night for two weeks because I got a “B” in Science on my report card. I kept that report card for years. There, lost in the middle of the monument to my “smartness” was a lonely little “B”. I realized a few months ago when I came across it in a drawer that I must be crazy for keeping it for 25 years but more so that I must be crazy that instead of taking pride in the accomplishments evidenced by all of the “A’s” staring back at me, I was ashamed of the lonely “B”. I kept this for all those years as a tribute to my perfectionism. Now I seek to kill my perfectionism & start a new desire for excellence without condemnation. With that, I threw the report card in the garbage can.

Why not start memorializing things that I’m actually proud of? No one really cares about what I got on my 5th grade report card anyway. To be honest, what people think about me doesn’t really matter. Whatever good I do, I should be doing for the Lord and not for men to praise me.

Matthew 6:3 “But when you do a charitable deed, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 that your charitable deed may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you openly.”

Colossians 3:23 “And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men”

My greatest accomplishments are the simplest of things, the way I serve the Lord and my family as a wife & a mother, the way I abandon myself in worship and the moments spent in prayer that no one sees. The biggest mystery of all is that the best things are always born from the times I allow myself to decrease. Upon the death of my pride & my selfish nature, I can begin to live and accomplish great things. So why do I let myself get caught up in the criticism of others when I really desire to change from who I am and be changed into the likeness of Christ? 

I can almost see myself, lying down on the altar ready to present myself as a living sacrifice Romans 12 style, then someone questions my Budget calculations and I start kicking and screaming & hurl myself down from the wood and flames ready to fight and defend my math to prove to everyone that I am capable while God sighs, shakes His head and says “I guess we’ll be revisiting this lesson again”. I’m so glad He’s patient with me. It really is laughable that I waste so much time and energy trying to defend myself, when I have the greatest defender whose only requirement is that I do everything unto Him. He will gladly do the rest.

Lord, help me to acknowledge when my pride is trying to rise up & overthrow the village of my soul. Help me to deal with it quickly and stay right where I’m supposed to be, surrendered on the altar of your grace. There is no better way to live. Let me see that correction makes me better. Let me embrace it with an open heart & a willing Spirit. Help me to discern when it is true & I need to change or when it is silly and I need to ignore it, shake it off and move on. God, let me be so focused on YOU that everything else I do and say will be filtered by Your Spirit, then I won’t blow it.