So it’s been awhile, cuz those holidays hit like a whirlwind and kind of make a giddy mess that takes time to clean up. It was a good mess, a grand mess, a sweet mess, as our rain bird was home from college and brought with her a house-guest for six days. We baked, I chopped, and diced, and boiled and fried and filled that guest’s belly and made him mighty satisfied. Cuz that’s how I love much of the time, satisfying bellies.
But I’m back updating this blog where I spin words and hope to brighten them with vibrant color, soften them with shades of earth, and still them with glass blue so maybe the canvas of them will hang in the backdrop of your mind somewhere, if God uses them to paint truth into your life. So here I go….
Denial is a funny thing. It takes the hand of self-absorption and runs head on into false hope. I know because I’ve slipped my own wretched grabbing fingers into the hand that looked like comfort, looked like more…
somehow looked good and better…like what they have.
And so, unsatisfied with words of love, spun in truth, dripping with fatness, breathed out in a holiness meant to shake the ground on which I stand… these words…
“no good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly” (psalm 84:11...)
wounding words…when you are tempted to believe He is a God who keeps from you,
not only challenged my faith, deepened my wonder, and stilled my insatiable chasings…
they blew up my love in a way that the scattered pieces somehow fell into place somewhere between heaven and earth…and hung there…
on the symphonic tones of a love song.
Some of us move from trial to trial in this life. Some of us resist and some of us simply sway to the rhythm that leads in chords of love. Listen to the words of that old ancient psalter inspired by living Spirit breath,
“Oh Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty; nor do I involve myself in great matters, or in things too difficult for me.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul; Like a weaned child rests against his mother, My soul is like a weaned child within me.
Oh Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forever” Psalm 131.
In many ways I am one who has moved from trial to trial in this life,
walking in Wisdom’s shadow, cocooned in the night, breathing in a Holy exhale.
Some trials have undoubtedly rocked the corners that connected and held everything together…that four-cornered box that made sense. Unshakeable ground seemed to tremor and quake, threatening the sureness of steady feet. Like my first-born’s brain that got all shook up like a bowl of jello inside her skull when she hit that tree…ten years ago. One life-changing event gave birth to residual on-going trials. Health has been threatened, marriage has dipped its toes so far into selfishness there has only been enough oxygen for one, as waves of that old false hope and greener grass suffocated.
And those locusts have had themselves a feast on the soggy scraps of our drowned out union.
And here I sit so wrapped and swaddled in inexpressible joy, clothed in favored righteousness, that when I read words that have life,
and grant life
and grow life,
and EXPLODE life, like…
“…Oh You who hear prayer...” my deep gets all stirred up and finds its way out down my face during that dark. fourth. watch….the one just before that soft glow reflects off frozen snow.
Because don’t tell me He isn’t near, and that He doesn’t uphold all things together, and that He didn’t know me before I was born and set me apart and choose for me to be knocked off my throne of self and blown over by a love force so strong I can’t stand. Don’t tell me He isn’t in control of every detail of my life and spoke my name before sperm and egg united, and has carried me from the womb into these years that mark themselves with strands of gray,
and sagging skin,
…Don’t tell me when He takes away He isn’t giving back 100 fold in joy and peace and hope and love and soul-knit relationships and a composed and quiet soul that finds its rest in His sovereignty and lovingkindness that can never be taken from me.
Don’t tell me that God of Moses and Abraham, Issac, Jacob, Job, Paul, Peter, James and John….doesn’t love me so fiercely He will stop at nothing to shape me into the image of His only and most Holy Son. Even if that means trials…
and sleepless nights….as of late. Cuz those sleepless nights challenge my comfort and ask…
what do I crave more?
Sleep or Savior?
and then my soul waits quietly for my God more than the watchmen for the morning,
YES, MORE THAN THE WATCHMEN FOR THE MORNING! and that symphonic love song plays over me, and hems me in, in the dead of night…and I meditate on my bed in stillness…and trust that…
“no good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly…”
and my soul is composed. Because I agree with the One who commands the morning, and gives to me life and breath and sleep, and tells those proud waves where to stop, and wounds and heals, and restores, and feeds the sparrows and clothes the lilies…in that dew drenched valley,
and set His gaze on me and made this wretched woman the object of His love.
I agree with the One who wrapped up more of Himself in brain injury, and sickness, and crashed into the two who kept their haughtiness prized like a trophy on a shelf, and shattered it so we can experience that gift of humility and servanthood and keep serving and loving and bowing as we sway like a pendulum on the Strong Cord that wove itself into us.
And those soul-knit relationships, you know the ones…the ones you call upon to say your name under that torn veil to the One who hears prayer...(Psalm 65).
When you ask and say….”I want to stay by my man at night and be blessed with sweet sleep and wake tangled up as two…will you pray for me?”
You can be sure they will pray, and that God will hear,
and that sleep will come, like it did last night,
and we were watched and held by God.