Tuesday, May 4, 2010

The Haven in Storms

I am fascinated with the stunning beauty of simple, commonplace things. I actually went on a walk a few days ago to take pictures of things that normally get stepped upon. I wondered how many lovely things I trampled as I trekked with my eyes on a distant goal instead of looking down at the path I trod. I found remarkable things underfoot. And I was reminded of two things:

• how much beauty can be found in a faith that is vulnerable, honest, simple and stilled
• how easy it is to trod upon the things that really matter

The flower that amazed me the most was the clover. The simple white clover. I remember making bracelets, anklets, and garland crowns with these wild flowers when I was young. I would sit in the grass for hours crafting princess jewelry. But I never noticed the clover’s delicately curling petals or its rich coral and green highlights. How could a simple, common weed be so beautiful?



As I knelt in the meadow in front of my house, looking at all the different varieties of clovers and wondering if I could photograph them all, I thought about how beautiful a simple faith in the Lord can be. I wanted to write about what I was seeing and feeling, but I knew that some people wouldn’t like my essay. I thought about some of the times that people had quoted phrases from my heartfelt blogs about quietness and peace and called them boring. I remembered the denigration I felt when people wrote about their busy schedules and hectic lives and stated that only busy people with BETTER things to do than being still have the authority to share about finding peace and quiet. My blog wasn’t quoted as a source in any of those writings, however. Sniping from behind a stone isn't a transparant act.

But I am going to share my thoughts any way.  I am over 50 now. My life isn’t hectic like it used to be. Other people’s lives and opinions are not the rudder for my faith. I am not afraid of being simple or common or even boring. And the only real audience of my written words and my private prayers is the Creator of the Universe . . . who is the Author of quietness and stillness and peace.  And the Savior of my soul.

Perhaps I am narrow-minded, because I believe that Jesus is the only Way and Truth and Life.
John 14:6



Perhaps I am radical because I believe we should be poor in spirit,
mourn over sin,
cultivate gentleness,
hunger and thirst for righteousness,
value mercy,
love purity,
respect peacemakers,
and embrace the persecution that results from persevering in righteous living.
Matthew 5



I am definitely not legalistic because I believe we should live as if the 10 commandments are still respected and vital and relevant today. And that if we really loved others, we would be keeping all of them.
Romans 13:8-14



Some things, when they are trod upon, merely release the sweet fragrance of Truth.


But realize this, that in the last days difficult times will come.

For men will be lovers of self,
lovers of money,
boastful,
arrogant,
revilers,
disobedient to parents,
ungrateful,
unholy,
unloving,
irreconcilable,
malicious gossips,
without self-control,
brutal,
haters of good,
treacherous,
reckless,
conceited,
lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God,
holding to a form of godliness, although they have denied its power;
Avoid such men as these . . .
Now you followed my teaching,
conduct,
purpose,
faith,
patience,
love,
perseverance,
persecutions,
and sufferings,
such as happened to me at Antioch, at Iconium and at Lystra;
what persecutions I endured,
and out of them all the Lord rescued me!
Indeed, all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.
But evil men and impostors will proceed from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived.
You, however, continue in the things you have learned and become convinced of . . .
All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching,
for reproof,
for correction,
for training in righteousness;
so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.
2 Tim 3



Walking with the Lord can be brutal. But there is shelter from the storm. A Haven in Him. And only in Him.

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
And He brought them out of their distresses.
He caused the storm to be still,
So that the waves of the sea were hushed.
Then they were glad because they were quiet,
So He guided them to their desired haven.
Ps. 107:28-30

Here is Oswald Chamber’s advice to aspiring pastors in his book Approved Unto God. I believe it is good advice for all believers:

“The Gospel of Jesus Christ awakens an intense craving and an equally intense resentment. Base [your life] on personal love for the Lord, not on personal love for men. Personal love for men will make you call immorality a weakness, and holiness a mere aspiration; personal love for the Lord will make you call immorality devilish, and holiness the only thing that can stand in the light of God.”

If you crave quietness, stillness, and peace in your soul . . . cry to the Lord in your trouble.
Determine to shun evil.
Discipline yourself to do good.
Know that this will cause a storm of resentment and persecution.
But know that He is the Haven in the storm that always comes.
In Him is goodness and riches indescribable.

And please, be careful what you trample.


Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Beauty of Uncertainty

As spring blooms in the meadows and woods and hillsides of my beloved East Tennessee, I find myself awakening to a fresh, new season in my own winter-wearied soul. It is a season of growth, much like the tender green shoots pushing through the dark, rich soil in my Kirkhaven garden. New life. New hope. New dreams.


And like all growth that brings fresh strength, beauty, and insight, this growth comes from a place of deep fellowship with the Lord. Not a place of fanfare and bravado. Not a place of human consolation. Not a place where the definition of who I am and what I do has any dependence upon the opinions or the needs or the denigrations . . . especially the manipulations and control . . . of other people. This has been a place of drawing aside to be with the Lord and to glory in His fellowship alone.

It is impossible to live in community with others if you have not learned to live alone with the Lord. All life flows from Him. All truth abides in Him.

To believe that you can plumb the depths and comprehend the breadth and live in full, vital relationship with the Lord of the Universe in a few minutes . . . or a few days . . . or even a few years of distracted study and abbreviated prayer is a most grievous mistake. It is sometimes necessary to have protracted times of aloneness . . . long walks in the Lord’s companionship through the meadows and the deserts and the mountains and the valleys of life’s journey . . . until the essence of God Himself can begin to impact your frail character and mold your stubborn will.

And to believe that you can rightly relate, with true Christian graces, to both the unsaved world and God’s community of believers without a rich, deep, enduring, secret life alone with the Lord is worse than grievous . . . it is devastating. Vain philosophies, misguided doctrines, and co-dependant relationships are the fruits of deep, personal, intimate relationships that are shallow in the Lord.

God is more. He is always more than I can possibly take in. And more than I could ever relate or share. So I find myself, at this juncture of my life, beginning to relish things that, in earlier times, caused me youthful consternation. I am finding . . . in the more-ness of God . . . that I have settled for far too little . . . for far too long.

One of the biggest things that I am beginning to cherish . . . that I once deemed a frustration and a stress . . . is uncertainty. Oswald Chambers, in his book My Utmost for His Highest, eloquently expresses how uncertainty is a blessing in the life of a dependant child of God:

Certainty is the mark of the common-sense life: gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness; it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God.

Then he goes further to press the importance of this uncertainty in the formation of a humble, teachable, growing heart:

When we become advocates of a creed, something dies; we do not believe God, we only believe our belief about Him. Jesus said, “Except ye . . . become as little children.” Spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, but uncertain of what He is going to do next. If we are only certain in our beliefs, we get dignified and severe and have the ban of finality about our views; but when we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy.

To live in gracious uncertainty means that we don’t have to understand it all. We don’t have to explain it all. We don’t have to be it all. There is a simplicity and humility and sincerity in this kind of spiritual posture. There is an enormous ability to appreciate different people with different perspectives. There is a freedom to accept our own frailty and to depend upon God’s faithful strength. Gracious uncertainty allows us to release others to pursue genuine godliness. And it allows us to release ourselves from the yardsticks that measure our worth and our status.

Try to define love?
Try to understand grace?
Try to explain righteousness?
Try to build a profound teaching
or acquire a special revelation
or develop a faultless doctrine
that is immutable and global and imperative?

Nope.

None of those occupations can change a human heart.
They can’t turn water to wine
or stone to flesh
or mourning to dancing
or fear to hope.

Only God can do that.
And His Ways can be the most surprising, amazing, unexpected things.

I am thinking that a life of gracious uncertainty is a lovely life.
Who knows where it will take me??
I am thinking that is the whole point.

:)

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Time to Dig

Then Isaac dug again the wells of water which had been dug in the days of his father Abraham, for the Philistines had stopped them up after the death of Abraham; and he gave them the same names which his father had given them.
Genesis 26:18


I have been thinking about wells lately. We are finishing a well-drilling project here at Kirkhaven, and my heart has been captured by both the practical blessings and the spiritual symbolism of wells. We have “city water” here on our farm, so a well certainly wasn’t a Kirkhaven necessity. But as our farming ventures have begun to grow, my husband and I began to see the value of having our own underground water source . . . especially since we will soon have an acre pond that needs filling.

Deciding where to drill the well turned out to be simple . . . in a surreal kind of way. No one could give us any scientific formula for choosing the right drilling spot. My husband and I had discussed possible locations, but we both felt completely inadequate to make such a sweeping decision. We had already prayed for favor and blessing on the project. So we did what we have always done in projects that seemed to test the limits of our abilities and our faith. We just trusted God. We shrugged our shoulders. We made a decision. “Put the well wherever my wife wants it,” my husband joked, grinning. “I don’t want it to be my fault if this well ends up dry.” So John, the drill-rig assistant, ceremoniously handed me his empty Mountain Dew bottle and said, “Drop this where you want your well. That’s where we’ll drill.”

I dropped the bottle, with as much flare as I could muster, right at my feet. The rig commenced drilling. Only God knew what we would find.

I watched as the McCall Well Drilling and Pump Service turned up topsoil, then red clay, then Tennessee limestone. “You’ll hit water eventually,” Mr. McCall had said, “just no tellin’ how deep you’ll have to go or what kind of flow you’ll find when you get there.” Since the depth of the well determined its cost, we hoped that we wouldn’t have to drill any deeper than 300 feet.

From my research, I learned that our official state rock -  limestone - was often a great source of groundwater, so I bent down and scooped up a handful of the drilling debris at the edge of the deepening shaft. It looked like finely crushed gravel. But it was dry. Bone dry. I stood there beside the loud droning of the powerful drill . . . holding my dry, dusty limestone pieces . . . and I prayed for water.

That was a powerfully symbolic moment for me. Praying for water . . . cool, pure, life-giving water . . . drawn from a well dug by our own efforts . . . standing in utter faith that God would bless this work . . . knowing that when we found water . . . if we found water . . . the enduring testimony we would pass on to our children and our grand-children would be simply this:

El Shaddai is faithful.

When I look at my country today . . . and especially at the American church . . . I see dry, dusty limestone. Rock that is associated with water. Rock that often has fossils of marine animals embedded in it. Rock that signifies great potential for well drilling. But it is dry. Bone dry.

I remember how, in my twenties, we would sing in church about the “rain of God” as we enthusiastically prayed and believed and expected great outpourings of revival in our land. Sometimes we saw miracles. Sometimes we saw hearts gloriously converted to faith in Jesus Christ. But it was always about “the rain.” God would “come down” and we would glory in it all.

I believe the time for dancing in the rain has passed. There will, as sure as God is faithful, be outpourings of God’s love and mercy on this land and on His people. But our hands have grown soft . . . our wills have become lazy . . . our theology has shriveled into dry, psychological, socialistic graceology. “God does it all. Salvation is free. No worries . . . no fretting . . . no working . . . we’re all okay. Get a revelation of the grace message and you’ll never thirst again.”  Like in the days of Isaac in Genesis, the Philistines have stopped up the ancient wells. Who is left to dig them again?

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. Romans 5:1-5

What has happened to this kind of virtue? Where are our heroes of perseverance and proven character? Is there anyone left who believes that repentance is necessary, virtue is mandated, and good works are necessary in the Kingdom of God?

Our well-drilling at Kirkhaven turned into an expensive project. We had to drill much deeper than our hoped-for 300 feet. At one point we dug through two caves and had to pull up the drill bits, undo what had already been done, and double the amount of wall casing that was installed. We drilled all week and only found a minimum of water . . . 5 gallons –per-minute flow rate. By Monday morning, our 6th day of drilling, we were faced with a simple question: how deep is deep enough?

We passed 600 feet . . . then 700 feet . . . and the drill foreman asked us the same question each time we passed another 100 feet: “Are you ready to quit or do you want to go deeper?”

“If we go deeper, will that increase our flow rate?” I asked Chris. “Maybe not. Probably not. There’s really no way of knowing,” he answered as he shrugged his shoulders.

At the 700 foot mark, we finally gave Chris a definitive answer to his “how deep” question: “Go 800 feet.” That was it. 800 feet and no more. We would be grateful for whatever flow rate we found at that depth. Then we prayed one final, simple prayer:

“Father, bless this well. Send us a gusher. Oh Lord, let there be a gusher at Kirkhaven!”

As the sun was sinking low on Kirkhaven’s western horizon Monday afternoon, I saw the McCall Well Drilling truck amble up our gravel drive toward the exit to our property. I assumed the guys were headed home for the day and I waved to them, smiling. My husband and I were at the barn finishing our chicken coop. But instead of continuing up the drive, they turned onto the access driveway and pulled up to the barn . . . arms raised in victory: “It’s a gusher!”

Our well is sunk into an underground river at 760 feet. The current of the water is so powerful it prevented the drill from progressing any deeper. The water was gushing out of our shaft so fast that an accurate flow rate couldn’t be determined. Chris estimated it at “40 or 60 or probably greater than 60 gallons per minute.” After the bit was removed and the well was capped, the water level rose 555 feet up the shaft . . . now resting at an easily accessible 205 feet.

Digging this well was time-consuming. It was a test of our hope and faith. It was expensive. But it is an underground gusher . . . rain or shine . . . flood or drought . . . for generations to come. A testimony of God’s all-sufficient faithfulness.

Here is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his book The Cost of Discipleship says about the treasure of God’s grace in His church. In the 1940’s, Bonhoeffer actively and openly opposed both Hitler's National Socialism and the infiltration of Nazi philosophy and control into Germany’s churches. Bonhoffer was arrested for helping Jews escape to Switzerland, and was then executed by hanging at Flossenbürg concentration camp on April 9, 1945. He is a hero of the Christian faith and I believe that his words have great counsel for Christians today:

Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. We are fighting today for costly grace. Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices. Grace is represented as the Church’s inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessings with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits. Grace without price; grace without cost! The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing.... Cheap grace means grace as a doctrine, a principle, a system. It means forgiveness of sins proclaimed as a general truth, the love of God taught as the Christian 'conception' of God. An intellectual assent to that idea is held to be of itself sufficient to secure remission of sins.... In such a Church the world finds a cheap covering for its sins; no contrition is required, still less any real desire to be delivered from sin. Cheap grace therefore amounts to a denial of the living Word of God, in fact, a denial of the Incarnation of the Word of God . . .


Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: “ye were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.

America . . .
Church . . .
We need a gusher . . . a pure, clean, river of living water flowing up from deep within the very heart of God.

It is time for virtue and hope.
It is time for the kind of faith that produces the character of God in His people.
It is time to stop our hedonistic, “bless-me-again-Lord” rain dances . . .
       to abandon our cheap grace . . .
       to don our work boots . . .
       to change into some clothes that might get dirty . . .
       and to start digging.

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men, instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age, looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus, who gave Himself for us to redeem us from every lawless deed, and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, zealous for good deeds. These things speak and exhort and reprove with all authority. Let no one disregard you.
Titus 2:11-15

We need to dig until we find theTruth,
the faith,
the repentance,
and the resolve
to become the church God desires.

It might be hard.
It might be long.
It will never be cheap.

But we can trust God.
He is faithful.

Somewhere below the very ground on which we stand in faith. . .
is a real gusher
waiting for us.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Grace Has Come


I watched a storm dissipate a few days ago. It was an awe-inspiring thing. And since the storm was breaking apart just as the sun began setting, the colors were spectacular.


Skies that had been heavy and brooding from a dark, rain-filled day feathered softly and spread into a thinning veil of breeze-driven wisps. The charcoal canopy warmed to purple, peach, and pink as a warm, yellow glow softly lit the western horizon. I watched it all through the black silhouette of winter tree branches in my front yard. And when a tiny patch of blue sky began to slowly spread across this beautiful pastel canvas, I felt like a blind man seeing the wonder of God’s glory for the first time.



“This,” I thought, as the sun finally sank behind my Kirkhaven ridge, “is a photograph of grace.”

The grace of God is miraculous and glorious and absolutely unmistakable. For those who experience God’s handiwork in their own lives . . . and see it in the lives of others . . . grace is stunningly beautiful.

Purity.
Steadfastness.
Honesty.
Forbearance.
Dignity.
Peace.

After the storm of trial and the heaviness of repentance and the cleansing rain of Truth have brooded over our hearts for a time, God’s mercy comes . . . through the blood of His precious Son . . . and the sunset of His ever-present grace brings hope that tomorrow will be different.

That we will be different.

My heart knows what it feels like to gaze out onto heavy, stormy skies. There have been days and weeks and even months when light and color and hope were lost in the monochromatic landscape of sorrow and pain. Like an old black and white movie, I could only imagine the colors that actually thrived beyond the camera lens. I couldn’t see them outside the window of my soul; I could only see shades of gray.

But God’s grace has come.
The heavenly revelation is full and complete.
From the manger,
to the long, dusty roads of Palestine,
to the cross,
to the grave,
to the resurrection,
to the heart that will repent and believe.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see!

For the grace of God has appeared,
bringing salvation to all men,
instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires
and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age,
looking for the blessed hope
and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus,
who gave Himself for us
to redeem us from every lawless deed,
and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession,
zealous for good deeds.

Exquisitely simple.
Profoundly amazing.
The Gospel of Jesus of Christ.
The grace of God.

These things speak and exhort and reprove with all authority.
Let no one disregard you.
Titus 2:11-15)

Grace and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior be unto you.
Happy Resurrection Day!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Dreaming

Sometimes you just have to shrug your shoulders, dust off your shelf of dreams, pick one, and lace up your work boots. There will always be reasons for NOT doing something. There will always be people to tell you that you shouldn’t. But when the Lord gives His nod of approval . . . and your heart begins to bloom with hope that you might actually be able to do this thing . . . then do it.

I have always been a dreamer. And I am married to a dreamer. It is just the way we are wired. It isn’t that we are afraid of the real world and prefer to live in an imaginary one. We are not those kinds of dreamers. It’s just that we love to see things as they are . . .find the beauty in them . . . and then wonder what they might become.

For me, dreaming is a type of prayer. It is a conversation between the Lord and I that plumbs the depths of my feelings and challenges the truth of what I think. It helps me to find complete contentment in the goodness God has poured into my life while still nudging me to step boldly into what He is doing next. For example, I can enjoy, with gratitude, the deliciously tart blackberries that grow wildly in my Kirkhaven woods . . . and still wonder, as I meander down familiar paths, if I might also grow juicy blueberries up on the hill.

Dreaming is a lot of work. I study when I dream. I read lots of books. I ponder the Word of God for guidance. I seek the counsel of knowledgeable, wise people. I ask a lot of questions and search out a lot of answers. It is important to have an honest grasp of what you DO know and what you DON’T know and what you NEED to learn when you are dreaming. Not-willing-to-work-at-it-laziness will kill a dream. Know-it-all-arrogance will kill the dreamer.

So today, at the threshold of another gorgeous Kirkhaven spring, we have begun earnest work on a brand-new dream. Kirkhaven is becoming a working farm. We will grow heirloom fruits, vegetables, and herbs for cooking, canning, and drying. We will raise Black Australorp chickens for beautiful, brown eggs and healthy, organic meat . And we will build a bass pond on the west side of our 54 ridge-top acres for fishing, thinking, and . . . . probably . . . more dreaming.

I am a teacher.
My husband is an architect.

If you are tempted to ask, “Why would THEY try to tackle such a project?” . . .
I have a simple answer.

No reason at all . . .
except that we dreamed it . . .
and we could hear God smiling.

Here is the site of our future garden overlooking McNallie ridge . . . with the Smoky Mountains in the distance.
 
 
Looking across the garden, you can see our red barn.  That's where we will build the chicken coop.
 
 
And this is the sun setting over the site for our future pond.

Jeremiah 29:11-14


"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity . . .”

God’s plans are truly lovely.
Join me in dreaming?

Monday, February 1, 2010

Footsteps


I took a walk yesterday in the fresh, clean snow that had settled onto our east Tennessee ridge. We don’t see snow like this very often. I wanted to meander across Kirkhaven’s meadows and trek through familiar wooded trails . . . enjoying the beauty of this blanketed landscape before it all melted away. The sky had cleared, the sun was out, and it looked like a perfect day for a winter stroll.

It was a treasure-hunt of sorts. I was looking for footprints. I often see wildlife scampering across our property or lingering along the wood’s edge. I wondered if I could track rabbits, deer, turkeys, or coyotes along my favorite walking route.

I didn’t take my ipod with me. Music is usually standard protocol when I go trekking, but there was something about the pristine look of snow on rolling hills that made me just want to listen to the silence this time.

The first footprints I found were the delicate, wispy tracings of a single, tiny bird. If I hadn’t been looking, I would have traipsed right through them.



Then there was a curious imprint at the edge of the path where a rabbit had been sitting



. . . and a double set of bunny tracks . . .



that merged with deer tracks and hopped up the path into the snowy brush.



It was so peaceful to walk in the winter woods alone. The only sound was the smooshing scrunch of my muffled boot-steps. Blues and whites of the snowy forest floor melted into pastel browns and grays as the bare-limbed canopy filtered the sun’s warming rays onto muted patches of shade and shadow. Everything felt calm. Uncomplicated. There was such unembellished elegance to the stark beauty there.





Then something the Lord said in His famous Sermon on the Mount drifted into my mind:

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

Pure.
Like the clean, white snow.
Fresh.
Like a cold winter day.

I looked down and saw my own footprint in the snow.

I had walked these wooded trails many times, in every season.
The smell of honesuckle and wildflower blooms is nearly intoxicating in the spring.
The blackberries picked on humid summer afternoons are juicy and tart.
The brilliant orange-golds of autumn oaks and maples paint a stunning fall canvas.
And the brown, leaf-scattered path of winter’s simplicity makes a rich, musty carpet for brisk winter hikes.
Every season is beautiful in my Kirkhaven woods.

But only a snowy pathway clearly shows footprints.

Blessed are the pure in heart . . .
like fresh, white snow . . .
so that His every footfall,
His every touch,
His every Word,
even His every whisper and sigh
leaves it’s perfect imprint there.

I thought about my own heart and all the different states it had been in:
Proud.
Angry.
Critical.
Doubting.
Fearful.

Broken.

Far too noisy to hear God’s gentle footfalls.
Far too cluttered to see the prints He had left.

I knew that God loved me just the way I was..
And I knew that He often met me at the place of my greatest weakness.
I remembered how He even used an imperfect vessel to accomplish His perfect plans.

But blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

So I prayed.

Lord, take my hurting heart . . .
I give it to you again.
I repent of the sin that muddles your perfect Truth.
I want to be changed.
Touch me . . .
and leave your handprint there.

A pure heart is less than a perfect heart.
But it is more than fully forgiven.

A pure heart is cleaned . . .
and quieted . . .
and waiting . . .
for the footstep
and the touch
and the voice
of God.

Because to see Him
and to bear His likeness
is what really matters.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Matt 5:8


Friday, January 8, 2010

Simple Faith




 

 
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

Lyrics by Edward Mote
Music by William Bradbury.
The Cokesbury Worship Hymnal
Copyright 1938

I often find myself humming this faithful, old hymn during the day. 
Sometimes the humming is conversational . . .
a warmly familiar act of fellowship with the Carpenter of my days. 
Sometimes it is prayerful . . . 
a deliberate step of faith in trials that test both meddle and faith. 
Sometimes it is unconscious  . . .
echoing from memory’s musty halls like a timeworn photograph. 

It is a life song for me.   A hymn of many seasons.   The theme of a life lived in the Gospel.

If there is any mystery in Christianity,
it is the mysterious penchant of Christians to muddle-up elegant, simple Truth. 
Why do we do that? 
To try to be “deep?” 
To try to impress people? 
To try to convince others that our more mysterious revelation . . .
since it is greater than their more simple one . . .
earns us loftier notoriety or higher authority or greater specialness?

My faith is simple and my God is profound.

This is the 51st year of my life . . .
my 45th year of walking with the Lord . . .
the year 2010.

This year my resolution, my life-vision, is very simple: 
to be a bond-servant of Christ Jesus.

A bond-servant. 
In Greek, a doulous
A slave. 
A person owned by another,
devoted to another to the disregard of one’s own interest.

It is a life of "grace plus everything."  That's what my husband calls it. 
The grace of God bestowed and wrought in a life
through faith
that results in obedience.

Grace.
Faith.
Obedience.

So very simple.

This year,
I expect to experience forgiveness . . . as I repent.
I expect to experience freedom . . . as I turn away from the things that oppose God.
I expect to experience peace . . . as I choose trust instead of fear.
I expect to experience abundant blessing . . . as I share what I have been given.

I expect to work hard and to rest deeply.

I expect the Gospel of Jesus Christ to only and amazingly be
The Gospel.

Simply.
Profoundly.
Sovereignly.

For me, that’s the good life.
It is more than enough.
It always has been.
And always will be.

- Lesa K. Reid

“The Christian profession does not consist in a notional knowledge or a bare assent, 
much less in perverse disputings, 
but in obedience.” —Matthew Henry