We all want big things - big dreams, big impacts, big plans. I look around me and see very little. I see days, not years. I see steps of faith, not legacies. I see hearts softening, not already soft.
When did I forget that God shows us his plan? In the going ons around us. Slowly the intricate plan unfolds. The most important thing in life, God's plan, unfurls slowly. Why would the pieces of such a plan appear in any other fashion? And if that's true, if we can not see the big picture, if our minds were not made to see that, why should we focus on it?
Again I see my soul laid bare before God. Pride. Pride that I wanted to be God so I could see the big plan. Instead of delighting in the greatest blessing of understanding the moment, something God wants to give me, I strive to have more. When will I relinquish all of my desires and allow Him to fill the greater desires. The ones that run deep. The ones that I was made for, and made with. Not what sin brought about.
I listen to the strains of the music, and see the moments ticking away. Yes, revel in those moments and allow Him to nurture my spirit with the things of the moment. Moments of grace.
Never to quit yearning for heaven. But yearning for what God has for me here on earth? How can I yearn for what I already have? But I do. I ask God what he will do with my life. He gives me more moments. As I draw in breath I remember. Anything that He will give me in life is in the moments, and he's giving me moments right now. Blessings all around me? Yes.
The bouquet of flowers on the table, they remind me. Yes, smell the flowers. And remember the moments. Another reminder of the precious moments he's given me.
Listening to the music, I enjoy the moments. The chords hit a note in my heart. Those moments continue, and I begin to hear a melody. The dynamics tell a story, and as the piece closes the story ends. Bitter sweet. What if life is just like that? It's made of moments, and you must enjoy the blessings of those moments. If you don't, the melody of life will not move you - lifeless and boring. The changes, the ups and downs...they all create the story. Without the downs would I know what up was? And the end...life cannot be replayed like music can.
I still dream. I listen to his spirit reveal the next moment. He delights with me, and a smile graces both our lips. I tell him the dreams in my heart, I open my hands, he holds my dreams for me. I remember that dreams happen in the moments, and I embrace these moments with him. I thank him for the moments that make years, that these make legacies.
I thank him that he can do big things with the moments. Because moments are all I can handle. His plans are to great for me to bare. One foot in front of the other. I learn to walk with him spiritually just as I learned to walk as a child. Again a moment of grace - he teaches me with things I understand. His gentle lessons refresh my soul.
He grows me, and teaches me. He gives me glimpses of his plans and that's enough.
I pray for wisdom, for insight. I pray for the future - that I will be prepared and that my heart will be ready for teaching. He'll let me know just enough. He won't let me fall. I take the next step. The most important step of all. The letting go.
Then I allow his peace to surround me. I rest in his love knowing he is faithful.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
Good Friday
With tears in my eyes I prepare to celebrate the most important holiday - Easter. But before Easter is death - before Easter, Friday must happen. And it tears me apart...just like the body of my Savior.
When did we become apathetic about the cross? When did I say in my heart that he did not care for me? As my eyes burn, I thank God for the reminder of his love. I thank him for the pain of Good Friday. I allow it to rush over me.
Going to work, cooking, cleaning. Anything to not really think on Good Friday. I stop and listen to the whisper of my God. Whispers to allow the pain overwhelm. To allow the pain to grip my heart. To cry.
Without pain where is the victory? Without the grave, where the resurrection? And without that, relationship?
I allow myself to relate. To feel the pain of rejection. To understand a Father and the pain he feels as his child decides yet again to sin.
I see through the eyes of Mary. I watch the hammer fall. I hear her cry, as she covers her face.
I see through his disciple. Watching his friend and teacher heave, knowing the betrayal and wanting to do it again. To do anything and everything. But it's too late.
I see through the eyes of Jesus. To feel the ardent love that he has. To see those he loves watching and wishing they understood. Not wishing...no much more. They must know. The rejection of the Father, the cry of a relationship torn. His heart rent more than his body.
The Father, turning away. Not in disgust. No, in pain. In parallel with what the Son has done. The punishment must be paid to the full. Anguish. Never to be the same.
I see through my own eyes. I see a savior desperate for me to know his ardent love.
What now, what to make of it. Is it over and done, forgotten? No, this pain must not heal, not until I see his face and allow it to remind me instead of pain. I must not be apathetic to his love. To forget means to discount. I must hang onto the nails. I must remember the blood and the body. I thank him for communion. That he gave the simple like me something to see, to smell, to feel, to taste. Just like a loving father - giving his child something tangible to hold onto.
I hear the dog's nails on the floor...another reminder of his grace. These nails can be trimmed and shaped. They cause no pain because the clippers take them away. Just like the Lord taking away the nails for me. I sweep them up and take care of throwing them away. The dog does not understand. I thank the Lord that he has taken care of the nails in full...no sin holds us apart. Another moment of grace.
I accept the pain. I open my heart. I prepare to feel the joy of Mary, the disciples, Jesus, the Father....and like the pain, I prepare to share in the joy as well.
When did we become apathetic about the cross? When did I say in my heart that he did not care for me? As my eyes burn, I thank God for the reminder of his love. I thank him for the pain of Good Friday. I allow it to rush over me.
Going to work, cooking, cleaning. Anything to not really think on Good Friday. I stop and listen to the whisper of my God. Whispers to allow the pain overwhelm. To allow the pain to grip my heart. To cry.
Without pain where is the victory? Without the grave, where the resurrection? And without that, relationship?
I allow myself to relate. To feel the pain of rejection. To understand a Father and the pain he feels as his child decides yet again to sin.
I see through the eyes of Mary. I watch the hammer fall. I hear her cry, as she covers her face.
I see through his disciple. Watching his friend and teacher heave, knowing the betrayal and wanting to do it again. To do anything and everything. But it's too late.
I see through the eyes of Jesus. To feel the ardent love that he has. To see those he loves watching and wishing they understood. Not wishing...no much more. They must know. The rejection of the Father, the cry of a relationship torn. His heart rent more than his body.
The Father, turning away. Not in disgust. No, in pain. In parallel with what the Son has done. The punishment must be paid to the full. Anguish. Never to be the same.
I see through my own eyes. I see a savior desperate for me to know his ardent love.
What now, what to make of it. Is it over and done, forgotten? No, this pain must not heal, not until I see his face and allow it to remind me instead of pain. I must not be apathetic to his love. To forget means to discount. I must hang onto the nails. I must remember the blood and the body. I thank him for communion. That he gave the simple like me something to see, to smell, to feel, to taste. Just like a loving father - giving his child something tangible to hold onto.
I hear the dog's nails on the floor...another reminder of his grace. These nails can be trimmed and shaped. They cause no pain because the clippers take them away. Just like the Lord taking away the nails for me. I sweep them up and take care of throwing them away. The dog does not understand. I thank the Lord that he has taken care of the nails in full...no sin holds us apart. Another moment of grace.
I accept the pain. I open my heart. I prepare to feel the joy of Mary, the disciples, Jesus, the Father....and like the pain, I prepare to share in the joy as well.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Breath of Grace
I allow the images from these last few days to play through my mind. The car broken down, the eyes of the patiently waiting yet sad dog, the clicking of the engine, the kind words of another. I sigh. What a week it's been...one of amazing grace.
A long day at work, much to do at home. His hand stops me. Whispers to be still reach my ears. I breath. There's my manager, grace in his eyes. He gently asks if he can help. My step is lighter.
My friends dog happily comes running. Bliss...not knowing about those pesky human struggles. Should I take her example? As she allows me to handle everything, trotting along with me, I see that God wants me to allow him the same care for me.
I except humility, and allow the grace of help to wash over me, instead of the pain of pride.
"My pleasure" my brother (in law) says as he comes to the rescue. No embarrassment. Only grace. I let out another thanks.
Grace is in the every day moments. Looking back I see even more grace than when I was in the midst of it. Meditating on what he has done for me takes on new meaning.
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.
A long day at work, much to do at home. His hand stops me. Whispers to be still reach my ears. I breath. There's my manager, grace in his eyes. He gently asks if he can help. My step is lighter.
My friends dog happily comes running. Bliss...not knowing about those pesky human struggles. Should I take her example? As she allows me to handle everything, trotting along with me, I see that God wants me to allow him the same care for me.
I except humility, and allow the grace of help to wash over me, instead of the pain of pride.
"My pleasure" my brother (in law) says as he comes to the rescue. No embarrassment. Only grace. I let out another thanks.
Grace is in the every day moments. Looking back I see even more grace than when I was in the midst of it. Meditating on what he has done for me takes on new meaning.
Psalm 19:1
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.
When I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
Remembering what he's done in the moments brings a smile to my lips. His presence grows stronger. And I breath. Breath in the grace and love that surrounds me.
Remembering what he's done in the moments brings a smile to my lips. His presence grows stronger. And I breath. Breath in the grace and love that surrounds me.
Moments with God
A life with God is a life of adventure; of exploring the paths of life; a journey to be enjoyed, moments to be treasured.
It can be so difficult to keep God as the center. There's dishes to be done, rooms to clean, floors to vacuum. There's a whisper from our Creator. Sometimes we pause and listen, other times we move on oblivious that we've had Jesus, creator, come to talk to us. I sweep the kitchen. Then I notice the grains of sand. The dogs have been outside making a mess again. What grace that God can remind me of him in that mess - in the grains of sand that he has numbered.
I hear the dog snore, and again grace. Grace that God reminds me that each breath comes from him. How precious it is. The chimes make a song of their own, the breath of God the writer.
How can I see grace at some times, yet at others I am oblivious that the Creator is whispering of his love to me. Displaying it for me to see. Then I remember that the stories of those who inspire...those lives that we hope to attain...they lived each moment. They swept the floors, listened to the chimes.
They found God in the mundane.
In the simplicity of the moment we can see God. In the months and years, others can see what God did through the moments.
As the spray of water washes away the dirt, I allow Him to wash away the doubts as he washes me in his grace. He truly is the living water of life.
I take a deep breath, and allow myself to remain in His presence. For the moment, that's enough.
It can be so difficult to keep God as the center. There's dishes to be done, rooms to clean, floors to vacuum. There's a whisper from our Creator. Sometimes we pause and listen, other times we move on oblivious that we've had Jesus, creator, come to talk to us. I sweep the kitchen. Then I notice the grains of sand. The dogs have been outside making a mess again. What grace that God can remind me of him in that mess - in the grains of sand that he has numbered.
I hear the dog snore, and again grace. Grace that God reminds me that each breath comes from him. How precious it is. The chimes make a song of their own, the breath of God the writer.
How can I see grace at some times, yet at others I am oblivious that the Creator is whispering of his love to me. Displaying it for me to see. Then I remember that the stories of those who inspire...those lives that we hope to attain...they lived each moment. They swept the floors, listened to the chimes.
They found God in the mundane.
In the simplicity of the moment we can see God. In the months and years, others can see what God did through the moments.
As the spray of water washes away the dirt, I allow Him to wash away the doubts as he washes me in his grace. He truly is the living water of life.
I take a deep breath, and allow myself to remain in His presence. For the moment, that's enough.
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