Too Much to Carry

Monday August 18, 2014 

Sometimes there's just so much to carry.

And it gets to be too much.

What do you need to lay down today? 



Concerns about the future?

Doubts about yourself? About your parenting?

Worries about that son or daughter you’re sending off to college?

One day Moses, carrying his staff, met God.

Now, a staff isn’t a bad thing. It can be used for good—to walk, to direct sheep, even to ward off predators.

But God told Moses to throw it down. 
So he did. 

And after Moses picked up that staff, it was never referred to as “his” again; it was forever after called “the staff of God” or “the rod of God.” 

What do you need to lay down today? 
What are you holding so tightly to, trying desperately to wield in your own power? 

Throw it down.
Give it to God and pick it back up in His power, with His strength. 

There will still be tough hard times, but your strength will come from Him, not from you.
Moses held up his hands during the battle in Exodus 17 (likely with that staff), and they dropped after a time.

But what did Moses do?

He focused on God and what God would do. 
He let others come alongside him to hold his hands up. 

You can do that.

Throw it down—whatever you’re holding in your own power.
Give it to God.
Pick it back up in His name, with His strength.
Focus on Him. Let others help hold your hands up.

What do you need to lay down today?

I'm linking up today with Laura at Playdates with God and Jen at Soli deo Gloria Sisterhood.

What to DO?

Monday August 4, 2014
 

When life is crazy, when things go awry, that’s often the question we ask.

What should we do?

I’m usually looking for a four step plan to success, a way to fix, a solution that has worked for my Facebook friends. I make a list, I check it twice...

I don’t often think to simply be still. 

In fact, if you told me to do that, I’d probably say, “Are you CRAZY? We need to DO something here.”

Certain situations call for immediate action—like my son placing himself in imminent danger (a daily occurrence at a house of four boys). But often I react when I should be still. I place my trust in my work, not in the One who fights for me. 

Just before the Lord parted the Red Sea for the Israelites, they cried out in terror, rebuking Moses for convincing them to leave their slave digs in Egypt. They panicked.

Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today…the LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.” (Exodus 14:13) 

All too often, I forget that One greater than me is fighting for me. My trust is banked on my measly human efforts. With my eyes on myself, with misplaced trust, I reduce an opportunity for God to show Himself into a failed panic. 

In reality, there is so little I must do. Psalm 37:23-23 reminds me:

“The LORD makes firm the steps 
     of the one who delights in him; 
 though he may stumble, he will not fall, 
     for the LORD upholds him with his hand.” 

If I delight in Him, He will make firm my steps. I may stumble, but I will not fall, for He holds me with His hand.

I can think of no more reassuring picture than that. 

What must I DO?

When my tendency is to panic, I must instead turn to Him, delight in Him.
From Him flows the peace I seek as I wait. 

I need only to be still and delight in Him. 
 

I'm linking up today with Laura at Playdates with God and Jen at Soli deo Gloria Sisterhood.

Impossible to Possible

Monday March 25, 2014 

He’s the God who makes the impossible possible. 


He brought light from darkness.
He brings life from death.


And the more I read the Bible, the more convinced I am that He’s the God of the unexpected.

The King of Kings and the Prince of Peace has a genealogy that includes not only a king who sinned, but a Gentile woman and a harlot. Tucked inside those names are stories of hope—hope for those born in the wrong place, to the wrong group. 

He includes David and Ruth and Rahab, reminding us that our inclusion in this family is dependent on God—not on our birth, our status, or our performance. No matter where we begin, He finds us and grafts us in. We are adopted into the royal bloodline, related forever to the King of Kings.

What greater picture of the hope of the Gospel? Foreigners, outcasts, aliens, He welcomes home. How can we do less? 

This post is both written in celebration and in anticipation. In celebration of little ones come home. My dear friend, Missy Roepnack and her sweet husband and family of four have just welcomed two more to the family—Aaron and Haven, two children from China with dwarfism and special needs. The story is one of open hearts, open arms, and lives lived ever for His glory, and you can read it here. With a total of six children now, it’s bound to be quite the busy house, but once Missy posts the homecoming pictures, you’ll see the joy. I just have to share one quote from Missy, who never misses an opportunity to point to the gospel. As she wrote of waiting for her children, she said:

“I do want to remind you all that there is a God who is making all things new, and that He is waiting for you. I would have missed EVERYTHING if I had missed Jesus.” 

That’s certainly worth celebrating. 
And the anticipation? 

The Groves family is waiting for adoption news that we think may come soon. And when we can share a name and a face, you will see it here! My son and his sweet wife are adopting a little girl from India and things are moving ahead. They’ve made great strides in their fundraising, they’ve filled out countless forms, waited for over a year, and we can’t wait to share what God is doing when we can. Pray for us, with us, as we wait. And then, one day, you will see a homecoming post right here! You can hear their heart for adoption in this video.



Those of you who are fans of a good story and have a love for international adoption, I’d love for you to check out Pearl, my novel. (Proceeds from the sale go to my future granddaughter’s adoption fund.)

Until that little one is here, we’re depending on the One who makes the impossible possible. 

He IS hope—the One who opened His arms wide to make us—the undeserving—His own.

Even when the road is rocky, He’s always there—the One who makes possible the impossible. 


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

In the Mirror

Monday March 10, 2014

I think we stare at ourselves in the mirror for far too long.

It’s called introspection, self-examination, navel gazing, reflection. Some terms are kinder than others.

My problem with such self-examination is that we tend to wallow. We stay where we are, claiming grace as a justification for all our flaws.

Yes, grace is there. And it’s free and boundless and unlimited. There is no line. 

But how can we to respond to that grace? With a fathomless awe and love that compels us to One who is the Good. 

W.H. Auden sums it up beautifully, as he so often does:

“Unless introspection is accompanied…by an equal passion for the good life, it all too easily degenerates into a spineless, narcissistic fascination with our own sin and weakness.” 

Give me that passion for good—for You, Lord—so that, in Your power, I respond to Your grace.

I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

When life hurts...

Tuesday February 18, 2014 

This life is no bed of roses.


Even those with an eternal hope can attest to that.


In fact, a seminary professor said in one of my classes, “Life is more like crawling through broken glass.” 

Think back to a garden—one that held a tomb. A woman wept, a totally appropriate response, and one most of us have shared. The events of the previous day were full of shame and heartbreak. The cross is an ignoble way to die and the loss of the Messiah was disheartening to his followers.

And now, a tomb and a woman in tears.
This looks like a hopeless picture. 

Then, the woman sees Jesus. 

Suddenly this story echoes an earlier one—but this bower holds a new man and a remade woman and now, a garden full of life.

And the woman? She goes from weeping to running and proclaiming to all.

Life is full of tears. Totally appropriate ones.

But we live in the shadow of the cross where there’s hope and help and promise.

And the Man in the garden? He's alive, and He loves us.


And suddenly, love shines through the broken shards around our feet.
 


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, Jen and Emily today.

Waiting.

Tuesday January 28, 2014 

The waiting doesn’t take Him by surprise, you know.

I usually think so.

I have my plans and my ideas and, of course, my calendar.

Sometimes I just wait for His smile to rubber-stamp what I’ve already chosen.

And I forget how He works.



It’s not just in the whirlwind, in the loud “Yes,” in the Jumbo-tron approval from the Master.  

It’s in the silence, the space. 

For Him, it’s not space. It’s filled with His love and His lessons, lined with His peace.

If I stop…and wait…and look toward Him, I begin to see it.

So I turn from the object of my waiting and step toward Him.

And I rest. 
 

I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

A Not-So-Silent Night

Monday  December 16, 2013

If you’ve ever been in a labor and delivery room, you know it wasn’t a silent night.

But more than the sounds of Mary’s anguish and joy...


Consider how the centuries must have resonated that night.

There’s much more taking place here than the birth of a babe.

Centuries of oppression are falling away, as the birth of grace lightens the age-old law.

No longer a burden, the law becomes an expression of love, a response to the grace gift.

Listen.
Listen carefully to that not-so-silent night.


Cattle lowing, angels singing,
          chains falling.
Mother sighing, shepherds praising,
          God redeeming.

Echoes of a wooden cross
      resound that blessed night.
Resting in a feeding trough…
      Embrace the Bread of Life.



I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

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Literature and Life

Monday November 11, 2013

Once again, I read about a book and I thought of life.

Mine.

A friend sent me a link yesterday to a post on Touchstone – a journal of Mere Christianity.

The article talked about Charles Williams, who was at the core of the Inklings. He’s lesser known than Tolkein or C.S. Lewis, but his writings sound intriguing.

Each of his seven novels begins with rather ordinary life in England in the 1930s. Then “something crops up,” Howard writes in this post, “…and we are off and running.”

Howard continues: "The characters divide themselves, unbeknownst to themselves, into those who wish to make a grab for the thing in the interest of knowledge, power, or ecstasy, and those who, like Simeon and Anna, or, supremely, the Blessed Virgin in our own story, place themselves obediently and humbly at the disposal of whatever The Mercy (Williams never says ‘God’) might wish to ask of them in the situation."

And I saw my face.

We (just as the characters) divide ourselves into two camps:

• "Those who wish to make a grab for the thing in the interest of knowledge”
[What's going to happen? Can I handle it?] and

• “Those who...place themselves obediently and humbly at the disposal of whatever The Mercy might wish to ask of them in the situation."

I wonder over the situations facing me and I make a grab—mainly in the interest of knowledge. I think I have to know.

I wonder what will happen. How I will face it. When it will happen. How long something will continue, and when it will be over.

Oh, to be the one who places herself “obediently and humbly at the disposal of whatever The Mercy might wish to ask!”

May I be that one today.



I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

A Summer Redeemed

Tuesday August 27, 2013

It was a summer redeemed.

When Jen of Soli Deo Gloria asked us to share snapshots of our summer--the refreshing, the renewal--I immediately thought of the redemption this summer represents for our family.

What did God redeem? Tough times, uncertainty, a change in path.

On January 6, 2012, our third son was hit head on while traveling to his teaching job in Kentucky. And life changed in an instant. His injuries were serious and required two weeks in the hospital and two weeks in a rehab center. Then he came home to Florida, to recover with us, spending three months in a wheelchair and then in intensive physical therapy.

 

The wonderful young lady who was in his life then is now his wife.

During that time, there was much prayer, lots of patience, and some very tough times.

But none of us ever felt alone; we knew that, even through the darkest of nights, God was right there walking the path with us.

And this precious young lady walked the path right alongside my son. When my son was woke up in the hospital days after the accident, she was there. When he started taking small steps, she was there. Even when she had to be back home at her teaching job, in spirit and prayer, she was there. When he was told he might never walk without a brace, she was there.


 And this summer, God brought beauty from the broken.

Because, you see, that's what He does.

This summer, my son walked out of that church with his precious bride with no cane, no brace. Praise be to God!






It was truly a summer redeemed, capped off by a day full of praise for what He has done.



And we're so thankful.


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

Where does brokenness drive you?

Monday August 19, 2013

I read a blog post today by Megan Hill entitled, “The Very Worst Trend Ever.”

I had such mixed emotions.

First of all, who didn’t read Jen Hatmaker’s post, “Worst End of School Year Mom Ever” and howl and cry and nod your head?

In true Erma Bombeck fashion, we commiserated that day over Jen’s words. And it was awesome.

And who doesn’t love Ann Voskamp’s dirty dishes in the sink as she loves on her bunch of kids? Most of wish we could push the dishes aside and have those priorities.

But something about Megan Hill’s subtitle caught me: “How our love of brokenness actually fails us.”

Those two writers aside (because I definitely don’t think the following describes them), I do feel that within the blogosphere there’s a bit too much wallowing. Kind of like, let’s all admit we’re worms and wiggle around in this mud together…and claim grace.

Megan points to Titus 2: 11-13: “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in the present age.”

Notice what that says—GRACE trains us to renounce…and live self-controlled and godly lives.

Grace doesn’t stop with “what a worm am I.” It has more work to do.

So, I’d like to propose a question amidst all this brokenness and laughter and commiserating that we call the mud of life:

Where does your brokenness drive you?

We might as well ‘fess up—yes, we’re all broken. But where does that drive you?

To talk to or read about another mom who messes up as badly as you do? And do you stop there?

Or does it drive you to perfect your life even more, taking the reins from the One who should have them?

On both ends of the spectrum—wherever you are—brokenness has validity only if it drives you to the One who can do something about it.

Maybe you see Him in the mom who just listens and gives you a bit of hope. The mom who writes your life, and you realize it’s okay to be broken.

But look around the corner.
Take the next turn.
Fall into the arms of the only One who can bring hope from our brokenness.


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

What do you see in the basin?

Monday August 12, 2013

Basin: a bowl for washing. An open, shallow, usually round container.

Yes, but there’s much more there than meets the eye.

I hope I never stop discovering the richness of the gospels!

Each story—most taught to me when I was tiny—is full of Christ. Not just full of His actions, but brimming over with His heart.

I’m amazed—and encouraged—that even though I’ve heard these stories for years, there is so much more of Him to discover. (And thankful, too, to my pastor for leading us to the wealth.)

Take a look at that basin. The one used to wash those disciples’ feet in the Upper Room.

Did you realize the basin made its debut in the middle of the meal? John 13:2-4 tell us that the meal was being served and Jesus got up from the meal, girded Himself with the towel, and grabbed the basin.

Feet were usually washed when one entered at the door, but this was a secret meeting, one without preparation. There was no servant there. Correction: there was but one Servant there. The disciples, in fact, had just been arguing about who would sit on Jesus’s right and left in His kingdom. You can be sure they weren’t of the mindset to wash feet.

So Christ did.

And in the washing of those feet, the wielding of the basin and towel, we see:

Jesus’s authenticity. He IS the real. John 13:4 says, “He showed them the full extent of His love”—in the foot washing. That statement doesn’t precede the cross, it introduces Christ’s humble act of washing the disciples’ feet. When we humble ourselves to serve others, we show how real our faith really is. Christ showed His love and introduced His sacrifice by donning a towel and picking up a basin. It was real, practical, rubber-meets-the-road love.

Christ’s unconditional love. The savior became servant that day. In one simple act, He said, “I want to take care of even the dust of your feet. Nothing that touches your life is insignificant.”

And He didn’t just say that to the faithful. Remember who was there? Judas would betray, Peter would deny, the rest would flee…but Christ’s actions said, “I will love you.”

Humility—gift and necessity. He gave a humble gift that day. But a gift has to be received. We have to humble ourselves—admit that we need Him—and be served by Him. We have to open our hearts and lives, show Him our dirty feet, and let Him cleanse us.

There’s so much there. In the basin of servanthood, blessings abound!

• He shows the extent of His love in practical ways in my life.
• He loves even when I flee—and He will tomorrow, too.
• He can deal with the dirt of my life.

Bring on the basin.


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

A Journey Toward Hope

August 5, 2013

That’s what the story of Pearl is—a journey toward hope...and peace.

In the midst of destruction and loss, for one mother the buds of hope begin to surface.



We’re on a journey of hope, too, as our family waits to welcome a child from India.

The purchase of my novel, Pearl, benefits my son and daughter-in-law’s adoption fund.

It’s available here and on Amazon. The Kindle version will be available around August 14th.

Journey with us toward hope!


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

Following

Monday July 29, 2013

I open my Bible each morning, but I usually don't I preface my reading with, “I wonder why this was written?”

But I’m learning that’s so important because, surprisingly, it speaks to me, where I am, right now.

I’m learning that the gospels reveal much more about Christ—and about me in relation to Him—that I had imagined.

Look at the stories. The people.

We see disciples who just don’t get it. They see healings, they hear His words, they know the ancient scriptures…yet they ask if the Suffering Servant if they can have places of honor at His right and left.

They promise they will NEVER fall away; and they do. They deny, they run, they flee in fear.

Yet the writers don’t attempt to paint a more attractive picture of themselves, do they? Perhaps that’s because, in retrospect, they have the bigger picture.

They know they’re not the righteous; they’re the sinners He came for.

 

Oh, not at first.

At the beginning, like the rest of us…

1. They’re blind. They hear He’s the Messiah, the Son of God, but they really don’t fathom what that means until He hangs on the cross and emerges from a tomb. So they keep expecting him to do political messiah type things.

How am I blind? Do I ever expect God to do political messiah type things—fix life here so it’s more like heaven? Make people nicer, better, kinder? Do I sometimes want Him to swoop in and cure the earthbound political system?

2. They’re bound. They want to stay by His side; they pledge to. They say they’ll pray, but they sleep. They can’t do what they will. Until His sacrifice has been made and His spirit is there to bolster them, they’re bound.  

How am I bound? Oh, my. How many times do I say I will—pray, read, study, be His hands and feet—and I don’t? “The spirit is willing, but…”

3. They’re people, just like us. They fall short. They misinterpret the Maker, place expectations on Him according to their own situations and perceived needs.

That all sounds like a pretty pessimistic picture of the disciples (and us), but it’s not the end of the story.

He told them they’d all fall away, and they did.

And knowing they would flee, He told them he’d go before them and see them again in Galilee—and He did.

Despite their disloyalties and inconsistencies, their fear and their failure, He went ahead of them…and welcomed them again with open arms.

Despite our misplaced loyalties and priorities, our fears and failure, He continues to go before us, even when we don’t get it; all we have to do is follow.


I'm linking up with Laura and Michelle today.

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It's astounding.

Monday July 22, 2013

Matthew 5 is astounding.


“Blessed are the pure in heart…” And I think, “Well, maybe sometimes I am.”


“Blessed are those who mourn…” Not how I’d describe myself most days.

“Blessed are the meek…” Meek? Really? I thought we were supposed to be bold for God.

You can see where this is going.

If these are the requirements for being blessed, then basically, I’m sunk.

So, instead, is this what I’m supposed to work real hard at? They’re really laws I’m supposed to keep?

Then I get to verse 17 where scripture says Jesus came to fulfill those laws…not me. And He ends that section by stating that “unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Well, I can’t do that. My righteousness won’t surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees. Then I learn that being angry is as bad as murder (vs. 22). And looking at someone with lust is the same as adultery (vs. 28). And I’m supposed to love those who hate me, and last …

“Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

Yes, Matthew 5 is astounding.

It’s astounding because it isn’t a list of laws for me; it’s a statement of fact. The pure in heart will see heaven. Those who mourn will be comforted. The meek will inherit the earth.

It’s astounding because HE is pure in heart.
He mourns—over us.
He is meek, speaking not a word to His accusers.
And He is perfect.

I can’t be the beatitudes; He is. Without Him, I am sunk.
He is the righteousness. He’s what God sees when He looks at me.

You get a righteousness that exceeds the scribes and Pharisees only when you get Jesus.

Jesus, given as grace gift, to me. Me, clothed His righteousness.

It’s astounding.


I'm linking up with Laura and Michelle today.

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What does a changed heart look like?

Monday July 15, 2013

There’s something appealing about the law.

It’s written out. It’s black and white.

It has boundaries; there’s no gray area.

It’s tangible, demonstrable. We see people following it and we can follow it ourselves.

We can set goals and discipline ourselves and strive toward checking off the boxes.

Then we can be proud of ourselves and others can, too. We can bask in their praise.

But is that a description of a changed heart?

As admirable and God-given as the law is, though, it can lead to a broken system of lists and checks and duties and obligations. One that is all of us and devoid of Him.

Nevertheless, I’m thankful for God’s law, for it leads me to Him. I can’t do it on my own. Oh, I can for a while, but it eventually leads to a full calendar and the obligation to post and no breathing room and most of all, no time for the One who wants to spend time with me.

That precious time spent with Him ultimately leads to acts of love and law-keeping that grow simply out of my love for Him, my desire to share Him with those around me.

So I ask myself, once again, today:

What am I doing for others to see?

What am I doing for approval?

What am I doing just for Him?

And true circumcision is not merely obeying the letter of the law; rather, it is a change of heart produced by God’s Spirit. And a person with a changed heart seeks praise from God, not from people. (Romans 2:29)


I'm linking up with Laura and Michelle today.
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What I Learned on My Summer Vacation

Monday July 8, 2013

Remember writing those first day of school compositions? I’m not quite ready for that yet, but in the last few days I’ve been ruminating over our last three weeks of travel.

From home to wedding weekend, full of family and treasured friends. Then off to spend time with Mom, followed by grandson adventures. Driving home with the one I pledged my life and love to 35 years ago, I thought about what I had learned.

1. Sometimes you forget; it’s good to remember. You forget what it’s like to have a two-year-old who wants no one but Mommy. You forget that thrill of being called “Mr. and Mrs.” for the first time. You forget just how much crazy fun it is to have the whole bunch together. And it’s good—so good—to remember those things.

2. Real love wins. When plans are derailed, when life throws you a curveball, when age and generation and geography separate you and those you love, yes, even then real love wins. What do I mean by real love? You know, the kind that’s from above—that models Christ’s love for us. It’s faithful and unselfish and overlooks oh-so-much. That’s real love. It’s the best.

3. When there’s a two-year-old around, there just might be crocodiles in the family room. And if said two-year-old asks you to follow him on tiptoe, just go for it. There’s nothing like the imagination of a child, and what fun to be a part of it!

4. Traveling time can be thinking time, and sometimes that's sorely needed. We spend hours in the car, and it’s such a great time to think, to talk, to dream. I love it.

5. Coming home is good. Back to a bit of routine, the familiar stuff…it feels good. And all those things I planned and dreamed about on the trip? Let’s just say I have my work cut out for me. I’m thankful to have those things to reach for and work for.

If I can keep remembering, and make real love the main thing while I indulge in crocodile hunts in the midst of my travels, then even the routine of home will be a joy.

What did you learn on summer vacation?


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.


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Three Steps to a Fulfilling Summer

Monday June 17, 2013

My week at the Write to Publish conference was downright inspiring.

I heard encouragement from published authors, editors, and fellow writers. I got instruction in areas that were foreign to me. I made wonderful connections and renewed acquaintances.

But perhaps the most important advice came in three concise, pithy words.

No matter what you do with your time, these three words can be the key to a fulfilling summer.

1. Read.

For fun. For enjoyment. For escape. For education. For inspiration.

Reading opens up new worlds and deepens our understanding of ourselves and our place in the universe. And for writers?

“A writer’s brain is like a magician’s hat. If you’re going to get anything out of it, you have to put something in it first.” (Louis L'Amour)

“He is careful of what he reads, for that is what he will write.” (Annie Dillard)

2. Pray.

Some have said that coming to prayer is like coming home.

At times, I feel homesick…and I know it’s time to come back to prayer. So often, we just stay away too long, busying ourselves with human efforts we think are so necessary. We think our labors will yield the biggest, quickest results. When we do that, we cheat God, we cheat ourselves, and we cheat those we interact with.

Prayer is our connection to what is much greater than we are.

As speaker Bob Hostetler urged us, “Pray before you write. Pray after you write.”

When we bathe our efforts in prayer, we open whatever we do up to His power.

3. Write.

At the conference, we talked about writing, we learned about it, we were inspired to do it.

Then the time comes to just do it.

You’re not a writer?

Whatever it is that you do, abandon yourself to it—throw yourself right in.
Don’t just sit on the edge and dangle your toes in.

Do it.

Three steps to a fulfilling summer that I intend to take.

Read. Pray. Write.

How about you?


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

Stepping out

Monday June 10, 2013

They shielded their faces from the salt-laden spray that seemed to come from all sides.

In the pre-dawn hours, crouched down in the rocking boat, they peered across the waves and saw…
What was that? A ghost?

Their terror grew.

And then, He spoke. Jesus spoke, across the wind and waves.

“Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” (Matthew 14:27).

The Book tells us that one man in the boat spoke up. Peter.

Peter didn’t say, “Are you sure?” or “What do you guys think?”

He heard Jesus. He recognized His voice, and he connected immediately with Him. If I had seen Jesus walking on the stormy waters in pre-dawn hours, what would I have said?

The mom in me would have said, “Lord, be careful!” And I’m pretty sure that would have been followed by a request to quiet that crazy storm and ensure my own safety. But what does Peter say?

“Lord, if it’s You, tell me to come to you on the water.” (verse 28)

What? Did Peter just ask the Lord to summon him to step on the rolling waves?

What is he saying?
“Could I do what I see Jesus doing?”

When Peter realizes he’s in the company of Christ, his desire is to do what Christ is doing. He asks the Lord to call to him, and he vows to come.

At Write to Publish, a writers conference in Wheaton, Illinois this past week, Bob Hostetler shared these observations about that storm-filled night in a message entitled “The Right (Write) Focus.”

His prayer sums it all up:

“I want to do what I see You doing, Lord. Call me to that, and help me not to be distracted by all these other things.”



I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

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Grace Gift

Monday June 3, 2013

The Old Testament continues to amaze me.


For years, I considered it important but, well, separate.


Parts of it were beautiful to me, but honestly, my interest was in the New Testament. I was more comfortable there.

But lately, the Lord has just increased my thirst for the treasures of the Old Testament.

I should not be so amazed that the God who brought us the Word, the beautiful world, and His Son could have crafted such a treasure.

It seems to me that the underpinnings of each Old Testament story are made of grace.

Centuries before we ever see Jesus, the ultimate grace gift, God elevates a simple shepherd boy, anointing him as the coming king. And I see grace. As God shows us a king who stumbles but pours his heart out to God in repentance, I see grace again.

And then there’s Josiah.

At eight years old, he takes the throne. He comes from 150 years of wickedness on the throne; he has no model for holiness. Until the Book is found in the temple.

Then he cleans house.

2 Kings 23 tells us Josiah renewed the covenant, and the people followed his lead. Under his direction, pagan altars are torn down, pagan priests are done away with, memorials to godless gods are destroyed. And the nation makes an about face. Josiah and his legacy? In verse 25, we read:

“Neither before nor after Josiah was there a king like him who turned to the Lord as he did—with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his strength.”

From one boy king, David the shepherd, to another, Josiah…God gifts ordinary people to do His work.

In the unlikeliest of times, from the unlikeliest of men, His grace breaks through.

David. Josiah.
A simple carpenter’s son, despised and rejected...raised to be the Lord of all.

Pure grace, my gift.



I'm linking up with Laura, and Jen today.

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Firefall

Monday May 20, 2013

They had wandered…again.

Loving whatever captured their hopes and dreams instead of placing their faith in the One.

The One who parted the waters.
Led by cloud at day, fire by night.
Brought victory again and again.
Gave them a king after God’s own heart.

Spiritual infidelity spread through His people and they followed the god du jour with a small “g.”

Elijah warned; they ignored.

Then came the showdown.

But first the question: “How long will you waver between two opinions?”

And the people said nothing.

Elijah gave Baal’s prophets every advantage. Their god, after all, was the god of fire. It was 450 prophets of Baal to one man of God. They even went first.

The prophets of Baal cried out. And their god (with a small “g”) said nothing, did nothing.

So the prophet of God called the people to Him. He repaired the altar using 12 stones to represent all 12 tribes. Israel, though divided now, was to see themselves as one before God. In faith, he called for four jars of precious water to douse the wood.

Then he prayed: “…so these people will know that…You are turning their hearts back again.”

And the fire fell.
And the people cried out, proclaiming, “The LORD – he is God!”

When I wander, Lord, capture my faith, my heart, my focus.
Help me to see those miracles wrought only by your hand, Your work in the world and the hearts around me.

The firefall of every day.


I'm linking up with Laura, Michelle, and Jen today.

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