surrender

Thunder

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I was a human once.

I lived, I breathed, I knew who I was.

It was somewhere between where husband number one left me a puddle on the floor and husband number two decided I wasn’t enough.

Maybe I’m not.

Maybe they’re not.

I’m not qualified to say.

Tonight, I’m thinking I am beyond expectations and they are the fault.

Regardless, I’m here with the pieces.

Pieces are a funny thing. They fall in random intervals. They collide with ideals. They stick themselves in places you didn’t see coming.

But you hang on, groping for tomorrow because maybe it will be better and maybe peace can be found.

Maybe, instead of the ideal that someone will rescue me, I can find solace in me and my faith and the promise of tomorrow. I am tired.

I’m tired of picking up pieces and expecting gold.

Still, I am an optimist. I believe in tomorrow.

But today is real and I need to feel it to gather the gold.

So I struggle and rest in the same breath.

I am me and for tonight, that is enough. Tomorrow may be another story.

Shine when the darkness covers.

Shine when you can’t find light.

Today is a day gone…tomorrow is eternity, so live!!!!

Random thoughts from the lost and tired.

Be you!

Bring the thunder and the light will follow…at least that’s the hope.

Listening

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The dark can be so daunting

The light can seem so dim

Still, from heaven, you are calling.

Can I hear your voice again?

No fear in death or life, though all of hell presses in

Your voice, the roaring lion, shatters mountains and hangs on the wind.

Still small voice, speak to me. I’m listening!





Missing

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Tomorrow is a glass half full.

Tonight is a memory.

I exhale with baited breath to find myself on my knees.

And I know it’s “worth it” if I die another day.

And I know there’s purpose in the things I choose not to say.

But it was you and me against the world until you were gone.

Now it’s me and me to fight alone and I’ll sing some lonely song. Maybe I should just face the truth that you’re gone.

Maybe I was the “missing one” all along.

Here on the Edge of Dreaming

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When dreams seem to be dying before your eyes and hope is dwindling like a campfire guarded by a nodder, there is only one answer.

There comes a time when we are required to act on all of the things we believe in.

Suddenly the lofty ideals become necessities of survival.

We earnestly listen for the voice of our king to whisper a reminder that it’s all okay.

Our circumstances might be trivial in the scheme of eternity but they are our present and they feel like boulders, heavy, pressing.

My pastor has always said to see what kind of fruit something is, squeeze it and see what kind of juice comes out. (Eph. 5)

I’ve felt like a lemon this week, hoping for sweetness, love, joy, peace…instead finding sour.

The stinging remnants of old fears dropping in to say hello.

All I thought I’d sacrificed on the altar, shooting for a comeback and I stagger slightly until I remember to command my soul to listen.

“Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God” Psalm 42:11

Here on the edge of dreaming I hold on, knowing he didn’t bring me here to watch me fall.

I trust him.

Autopilot

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eagle_flying_bird

Autopilot – when I go through the motions

Head down, resolved, ready to do whatever it takes to make it happen

And then I sometimes break as resistance pushes me to realize I’m not built to maintain; I’m built for greatness.

Not greatness I’ve built with the persistent efforts of my hands, but greatness that comes only when I let go of my ambitions and allow yours to take over.

I ask so often for you to take all of me and then I feel injured when it’s pointed out that I can’t do everything on my own.

Why I allow the stubborn me to crawl off the altar of sacrifice and proffer a vote, I’ll never understand.

So today, once again, take it ALL.

Take my rights, my self preservation, my emotions, my ambitions, my plans.

Make them yours and use them for your glory.

I will fix my eyes firmly where they should stay, on the prize of the high calling of Christ.

There my feet find wings and fly, above the clutter, into your presence.

There, I find peace.

Blue skies

Painted

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Image

Paint me in colors only you can see. Vivid and full of life. Free from dull and gray.

Sing me in melodies unheard to human ears. An aria of mystery and beauty, sweet and precious to the orchestra of heaven.

Build me as a monument to your praise. Standing tall and strong in the face of the giants that would try to shove me over. A testament of your goodness despite all odds.

Make me humble, childlike faith that rests in your strength instead of ability given from your hand and misused.

Give me your eyes, your ears, your words.

Above all, give me your love and let me share it with the world.

The Edge of the World

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winter

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

mount

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.

Unruly Tongue

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From the outside looking in (or the inside looking out) I find myself wondering why I’m saying what I’m saying.

It’s that crazy moment when the spirit is screaming for me to zip the lip and I’m still going and realizing somewhere in the middle that I already regret what I let slip out.

Ah, unruly tongue, I want to wrangle you. I’d like to wrap my arms around the python and squeeze. Maybe it’s to prove that I have mastery over me. Maybe I’d like to show some fruit instead of being a cursed fig tree. Maybe I just don’t like messing up. Whatever the reason, can I undo what I’ve done? Can I suck the words back into my lungs and pretend it never happened?

“But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison” James 3:8

Flesh

At the end of the day, there’s grace. I’ll stand up again, awake and ready. I’ll try to tame my mouth but the truth is, I am utterly dependent on the Comforter. Only the Holy Spirit can remind me to wrangle my words and reveal to me the truth about my heart. He is my ever-present help. Through him I can make it through this crazy world with tongue and flesh in check, ready to lay my life down again on the altar of grace.

Then when I’ve messed it all up, he wraps me up in his love, showers me with mercy and covers me with peace. I can’t help but fall more in love with him daily. So I’ll press on today with this my goal, “O Lord, open my lips,And my mouth shall show forth Your praise.” Psalm 51:15. Maybe today I’ll learn to bite my tongue a little harder before it bites me.

Fortress

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The edge of protection II Samuel 22:2 ““The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer“

There are days when my strength deceives me

I can manufacture the ability to stand my ground

I can rely on myself or those around me wrapped in skin

I grow tired

Windblown

There are days the wind blows hard

I fight against it

I climb

I stumble

I fall

Fortress

You pick me up and hide me in the cleft of the rock

Safe in your fortress, I surrender

I find rest

My back aches, my feet are tired and I am weary

Carry me

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.