Wonder

The Easter eggs have been sorted and packed for next year.  The crowded sanctuaries noted for next year’s church planning discussions.  Most of us have transferred our ponderings from the man no longer in the tomb to the mundane to-do list of the day.  I don’t know about you, but I want more!  I long to exist in the wonder of the resurrection and the awe felt by Job.  I long for my thoughts to be fixed on His Word and pleasing my Daddy.  To tarry with him in conversation or to simply be still…. living within the wonder of the Empty Tomb.

Take 5

 

Twelve years earlier, my son attended Growing Tree Preschool as well as Kid Quest.  For my daughter, the numbers mystify me.  I have always made being a Mom, my priority.  While my colleges were navigating along their career paths, I was struggling, as a single mom, to make ends meet so that I could remain home with my children.  That said, there are still things that I wished I had done differently.  I wish that we would have prayed more, together.  That our devotional times had been more consistent and that I would have spent more time doing the simplest things with them.  These things I will never be able to alter.  Those memories are never to be written on the walls of my children’s lives. 

My hope is that each one who reads my words will take them to heart.  Time is unredeemable.  In time’s economy, 5 minutes is as a grain of sand on a sprawling beach.  You can utilize those 5 minutes and change your child’s life!  Fill those 5 minutes with Jesus and you.  You will make a difference for eternity! 

ducks

I am a control freak.  There I said it.  Though, if you know me this is no surprise to you.  I like to have all of my ducks ordered, named, tagged and categorized.  In this, life feels safe and tidy. I take great pleasure in coloring within the lines.  Ah, this is the life!

It seems, though, that life delights in gathering all of my ducks and throwing them in the air, allowing them to land where they may.  There I am, scurrying frantically, gathering a feather here and a dropped tag there.  Madly, I attempt to reconfigure all of my prior categories; alphabetically of course.  Symphonies of quacks reverberate, sounding eerily familiar to the resonance of a good belly laugh.

 Occasionally, I don't require life's assistance at all as I can launch the horde of them solo.  After I have feverishly scampered about, attempting to retain a portion of what was, the scenario is similar.  I end up in a heap at His feet clutching the few feathers I have assembled.  He gently reaches for my hand.  If I'm going to hold His, I must let go of those feathers.  Ahh!  There they go...

He pulls me into His lap and just holds me.  Not a word spoken by Him concerning the definition of insanity.  He quietly takes my hand and heals the indents the prior feather furry has left.  The longer I am willing to linger in His embrace the more serene I become.  Once again, I am captivated by His furious love for me.  Once again I can breathe.  Until, a yellow feather catches the corner of my eye and in true toddler-like abandon- I'm off again.



worship

Mary, the sister of Lazarus, is one of my champions.  During my quiet time with Jesus, I will often picture myself as Mary, resting at His feet.  I have no perfume of worth with which to anoint Him.  Yet, I have something to offer which is far more costly-ME.  Let's imagine the rest of her story...
Looking at Mary's narrative in Matthew 26, we are well aware of her extravagant gift and what it meant to Jesus.  What we are unable to see are the after shocks.  How this extreme offering affected Mary, as well as those around her.  If you'll recall, she undid her hair and used it to wipe his feet.
Ponder this with me....
This fragrant worship of Jesus had a profound, inadvertent effect upon her.  This fragrance satiated Mary.  For days to come this priceless bouquet of worship would be unmistakably evident in her presence.  The brokenness of her offering would fill the senses of those with whom she would come in contact.
For me, this becomes intensely personal.  What I have to offer is my life.  All of me.  Not so much the happy-go-lucky, no care in the world Diane whom I so passionately try to convey.  But the Diane who is broken and fragile with nothing to offer but the Jesus deep within her.  That is my act of worship.  That is the offering that I desperately desire to lay at His feet.
Subsequently, the fragrance of my worship would be solely....Jesus.

letting go

 

I take immense pleasure in rock wall climbing though there wasn't a natural attraction.  I enjoy having both feet on the ground, thank you very much. It took some time for me to trust that the harness and bungee cable would sustain me if I were to suddenly plunge earthward.  Rising above my fear, the subsequent challenge, exhilaration and the sense of accomplishment in reaching the pinnacle of the wall was unprecedented.  Then came the issue of releasing the wall and careening toward the ground, trusting that the harness and cord would sustain me.  It was mandatory that I let go.  Ahh!
Rock wall climbing parallels significant life lessons as we walk with Jesus.  Though ascending life's mountains can cause great terror and trepidation, we learn to lean on certain hand and foot holds along the path.  At times the space between foot holds become increasingly expansive.  Each ridge becomes progressively minute in size.  At times we are forced to perch on precipices that refuse to support us.  It becomes mandatory that we let go.
We are quick to forget that we are firmly in His harness.  He does not let go.  Isaiah 43:1 reads,
But now, this is what the LORD says-he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you. O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.  When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."
By the way, I did release the wall.  I bounced off it's side a few times but landed with my feet firmly planted on solid ground.

Not about me

 

I have sat at this ridiculous computer for an embarrassing amount of time and have come up with nothing of value to say.  There I said it.  For a writer it is humbling to have nothing to say.  You have expectations of writing something prolific even if those expectations are your own.  The love of using verbiage and imagination to bring life is intoxicating.  A blinking, inert computer cursor spells consternation to the weak of heart.
Then it hits me like a Strong's Concordance.  I began writing with the best of intentions.  My heart was to connect Jesus with others.  To be a voice poured onto paper for Him.  To sit intently at His feet and share those precious lessons we've poured over together.  In the past, the words were His.  The lessons were His.  The verbiage and imagination, all His.  These all poured effortlessly; life lessons translated from contemplation to paper.
He then gently reminded that the verbiage and imagination were never about me.  Humbling, though point well taken.
This very post has become its own life lesson for me.  I had no idea where I/He was going.  As I typed, He unfolded. As I came to the end of my own thoughts and ideas, He began typing.  I thought I was simply airing my own frustration when He was leading me the entire time.  When I came to the end of myself, He was there to step in.  It really is all about Him.

It's ok

God completely intrigues and never ceased to amaze me!  One particular night, as we hung out, my heart felt heavy and conflicted.  "I am not okay."  The words reluctantly rose from my gut.  I was stunned as He answered, "It's okay."  What?  No, it's not okay, was all I could think.  He gently countered, "It's okay that you are not okay."  ....I fully exhaled for the first time in a very long while.  The healing of His statement continues to fall in layers.  You see, I gravitate towards the tenacity of a pit bull.  Usually my plan involves sanguinity and optimism with the complete determination to annihilate all negativity.  Admitting my defeat to God is never a portion of the objective.  If I can simply latch on to scripture and my unwavering optimism, I can do all things (neglecting the "through him who gives me strength" portion-Philippians 4:13.)  He was not surprised by my disclosure nor did He respond that I should consider it pure joy (Jas. 1:2.)
He simply held me close as I acknowledged my weakness.  I obviously couldn't see His face but, personally, I imagine He was smiling.

Daddy's lap

When my babies were small, and as long as they would fit, I loved to set them in my lap!  I would wrap my arms around them and pull them in as close as possible, deeply breathing in every detail!  Words were unnecessary.  Our hearts would collide and mine would dance and melt simultaneously.     When I could hold them long enough, I would listen to the rhythm of their heart and feel the cascade of their breath. Such precious mommy moments enabled me to press through the mundane as well as insane other moments that made up life.  Those moments brought both balance and a sense of renewed strength.
As I had my quiet time this morning, I pondered God's lap ( I call him "Daddy".)  Hmmm, okay I cannot wrap my brain around God literally having a lap.  But I do have a remarkable imagination!
I imagine laying my head in Daddy's lap.  Not the image of God penned by Ezekiel or Isaiah, but the image of God embodied by His son, Jesus.  We sit in silence as words are superfluous. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in as close as possible.  The world stops in awe of the moment, I'm certain of it.  Initially, I am left breathless by the immensity of the moment.  There we abide.  As long as I am willing to remain, he is fully present.  Even as I type, all the emotions and feelings of those moments overwhelm me.  Such precious Daddy moments birth renewal.  And the fragrance from those moments linger and hold me through the day.  Oh, how He loves me!

fog

 

Each morning, God and I hang out as I drink my coffee.  This morning we pondered the fog.  Well, I pondered the fog.  He doesn't have too.  I reflected on the times I have driven through fog so thick that I literally couldn't recognize where I was.  All I could see was fog, fog and more fog.  Perhaps He set me up by bringing up the topic. 

Anyway, I pondered my life and thought how fog-like it can become.  I'm driving along, minding my own business, when this haze begins to cascade from nowhere.  It's beautiful and amazing as it seems to dance around me.  The haze turns into a shroud, becoming a bit of a nuisance.  Before long the shroud is so encompassing that I can see nothing but what is immediately before me.  That would be my own hand.  This is so not a comfort place.  I'm trapped.  I can recall the road traveled but have no idea what lies ahead.  It would accomplish nothing to turn around as the fog is just a s thick in the opposite direction.  What do I do?

1 Corinthians 13 beginning with verse 8 reads, "Love never fails,  But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.  For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.  When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.  Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."

As I ponder this passage I am cognizant that Paul is speaking of love.  But I am mindful that God is love.  May I be so bold as to add my own paraphrase and state that God never fails?                                                                                            If we see but a poor reflection and we only know in part we have to return to the premise.  The premise is that God never fails.  If what we can see in the mirror is but a poor reflection, detail is indefinable and obscure.  No matter how relentless, we cannot define it.                                                                                                        So what was Paul's solution?  It was that he put his childish ways behind him.  Ouch.                                                                                                                             So we embrace, even cling to Deuteronomy 31:8 which states "The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."  We begin to discern that God breathes in this present moment.  Bottom line-that is all that matters and it is enough.

vulnerable

This is not the post I intended to publish.  Thirty-two hours have passed since I'd worked over my thesaurus, pulling out words that look impressive.  The article was replete with Scripture and religious platitudes (2 Corinthians 12:9.)  You may have enjoyed it.  Thirty-two hours can create a huge discrepancy in perspectives.  I returned to my lap top with fresh insight.  You see, its theme pertained to how we discover God's strength through our weakness.  I often cite this Scripture to myself as I know from personal experience that it is factual.  Currently, the transfer of this Scripture-the 18 inches from my head to my heart-is under reconstruction.  I find myself in a position where I feel so intolerably weak.  I believe that Jesus understands that I really don't want to pay attention to that Scripture right now.  Perhaps a portion of the weakness of which Paul speaks is the feeling that we have been entirely decimated and we have no idea if Jesus will even show up.  At times, I've questioned if He's listening.  That is real life and as vulnerable as it gets.  There are no answers...other than His; and currently, He's not talking.

faith

 

 

 "Faith is the mother of tenderness, trust and joy.  It has only love and compassion for its enemies who benefit so greatly at its expense."  Jean-Pierre DeCaussade (The Sacrament of the Present Moment}

Faith has a way of seeing beyond that which is tangible.  Faith grapples to unearth the courage to gaze beyond this present moment into the countenance of a Holy God.  Looking to our own resolve is futile.  Faith born of ourselves is senseless.  Faith nurtured by a Holy God enables one to speak with resolve, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."  (Luke 23:34)