Blackberry Jam

I love making jam! I think my favorite kind is blackberry jam. I love traipsing through the Kirkhaven woods looking for berry patches. I love filling my “repurposed” plastic ice-cream buckets with the juicy jewels I find. And I love the art and the craft of turning this summer bounty into rich, sweet, yummy jam. I don’t even mind the purple stains left on my hands (and sometimes my shirts) from the whole, earthy process.

I like bringing people with me sometimes when I go berry picking, but everyone isn’t always as keen on blackberry harvesting as I am. It is a hot, prickly, tedious job that puts you in close contact with bugs, thorns, ticks, and . . . occasionally . . . a blacksnake sunning himself in the meadow.

By the way . . . I always try to convince my companions that the blacksnake is a good thing. He eats the vermin that might otherwise overrun my farm. Kind of like our faithful Kirkhaven pest control. They don’t usually buy my reasoning, however.

As my bucket slowly fills . . . one-juicy-berry-at-a-time . . . . I have a luxurious amount of time to think, dream, pray, and hum myself through a peaceful Kirkhaven morning or early evening. I am treated to the joyous melodies of chirping songbirds if I go picking in the morning. Crickets, cicadas, and croaking frogs peacefully accompany my evening forays. Whatever the time of day, the predictably hot, humid Tennessee air usually makes the whole affair a complete energy sapper that climaxes with a fairly long . . . quite steep . . . walk back uphill to the house. However, orange-mint iced tea and a refreshing dip in the pool easily remedies any berry-picking fatigue.

For me, a gallon bucket heaping with these dark purple treasures is a treat well worth the effort. Blackberry jam for my breakfast toast. Blackberry syrup for my ice-cream or waffles. Blackberry cobbler for a summer evening dessert. Blackberry bread and blackberry muffins. Blackberries to enjoy and to share with those I love.

Actually, I am eating some toast slathered with blackberry jam as I write this blog.

Yuuummmm.

With peanutbutter. Double yum!

Here are pictures of my canning shelf in the kitchen after an afternoon of making jam. The hanging brown bags are for drying herbs from my garden. The blue pot has my small pruning shears and my herb scissors in it. A handful of crushed limestone in the bottom of the pot (harvested from our well-digging project) always reminds me of the Lord’s faithfulness . . . and keeps the cutting blades dry. The books contain my favorite recipes, canning instructions, and gardening tips. The basket beside the shelf holds my gardening gloves (I know I should use them, but I hardly do), my Lowe’s pocket apron (really handy), bug spray (keeps ticks away while in the woods), and my handy-dandy folding stool for weeding.

You should come join me some time. Picking blackberries and making jam are peaceful, rich, soul-satisfying kinds of endeavors. And you never know whom the Lord will bring to share the bounty of your harvest.

That is one of the sweetest things about my little East Tennessee farm. We never know who will come to share with us. We do, however, know that it will be very good.

Because the Lord is Good.
So very Good.

O taste and see that the LORD is good;
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
Psalms 34:8

Free

yada Yehovah Elohim, Elohim aman El shamar berith chesed eleph dor aheb shamar mitzvah

Know therefore that the LORD your God,
He is God,
the faithful God,
who keeps His covenant and His lovingkindness to a thousandth generation
with those who love Him
and keep His commandments
Deut 7:9

yada, know
shamar, faithful
chesed, lovingkindness

There is absolutely nothing more precious to me . . . more profoundly comforting, encouraging, and life-giving . . . than knowing the faithful lovingkindness of the Lord my God.

The ebb and flow of life’s many seasons, the unexpected intrusions of life’s tragedies, and the often relentless persistence of life’s challenges and difficulties can turn my personal creeds completely on their head. The crafted beliefs I hold dear can be entirely washed away by a flood of events that I neither understand nor feel truly equipped to handle. It is completely possible to leave me intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually stranded on the roadside of life, broken and confused, wondering if I have ever really gotten anything “right.”

But there is something utterly transcendent about the faithful lovingkindness of the Lord. He can reach me anywhere. He can touch me from any perspective. His kindness is so amazing that even the crass, vindictive, demanding, circumstances and people who feel obliged to demean me so that they can exalt themselves become swallowed up in a sea of hope and peace when I rest in His unchanging love.

That’s why the themes of quietness and stillness and rest are so prevalent in my writings. It is the hushed, secret places of the heart and soul, when both external joys and external sorrows have been shushed for a bit, that I find the rich, deep fellowship with God that brings my life its sustaining faith.

I want my heart to be like the glassy surface of a still, quiet pond . . . where the slightest breath of God’s Holy Spirit sends spreading waves of faith to every bend and slope of its uneven shoreline . . . where every raindrop of God’s Holy Word plops concentric ripples of life-giving Truth and Hope.

Resting in the Lord does not depend on external circumstances at all, but on your relationship to God Himself. – Oswald Chambers

On this July 4th Independence Day weekend, Kirkhaven, once again, celebrates freedom. The nourishing fellowship of family, old friends, and new relationships . . . the sound of children splashing and playing in the pool . . . burgers and brats on the grill . . . fireworks in the clear, starry sky . . . contemplation and simple joy at the summer sounds of nighttime frogs and crickets and cicadas. I relish it all. I am so very blessed to be given such bounty.

For now, however, I will head down to our soon-to-be-finished bass pond, in this momentary lull, to sit with the Lord a bit. I’ll toss a few pebbles into the water that has begun to collect below the shadiest shoreline. I may pick a few more blackberries for the jam I plan to make tomorrow. I’ll chat with the Lord a little about my recent thoughts and questions.

But mostly I will listen.
And quiet my soul.

I will rejoice because I know that the Lord my God is a faithful God.
I will rest because of His unfailing lovingkindness.

yada Yehovah Elohim, Elohim aman El shamar berith chesed eleph dor aheb shamar mitzvah

Know therefore that the LORD your God,
He is God,
the faithful God,
who keeps His covenant and His lovingkindness to a thousandth generation
with those who love Him
and keep His commandments
Deut 7:9

“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me . . . I am the way, and the truth, and the life . . .”
John 14:1,6

So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.
John 8:36

Free indeed.
How amazing is that?
Happy Independence Day!

What Gospel Do We Embrace?

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.
Matthew 11:28-30

Timeless, beautiful words. Like cool water on a parched heart and refreshing breezes across a dry, weary dessert. Freedom from tyrannical yokes. Relief from oppressive burdens. Jesus simply said, “Come unto me.”

The older I get, the more I have begun to appreciate the simple elegance of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. After 51 years of living . . . 46 of those years in vital relationship with the Lord of the Universe . . . I continue to grow more deeply moved and more quietly contented with God’s Wisdom and Truth. But sometimes I need to be reminded about what the Gospel is . . . and what it really isn’t.

All of us . . . and I especially . . . have such a penchant for personalizing things. It just seems to be human nature to take something and make it our very own. Add our own flavor and perspective. It is usually just small things . . . a little color here, an extra dash of spices there . . . we just like to fix things . . . beautify them . . . make them personally appealing or relevant or palatable. However, the truth and beauty of original Truth can become completely transformed when we persist in personalizing it.

There can be many variations on a daisy:

The Gospel of Jesus Christ, however, is not amenable to such ministrations.

 The word “amenable” means:
answerable to
capable of submission to
suited to another
willing to submit to
responsible unto
obedient to

The Gospel of Jesus Christ is not amenable to us.

It is true that The Gospel is intensely personal and infinitely capable of reaching every person “right where they are.” But it is not amenable to personalization. It is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Not the gospel of us.

The time that we are at risk of trying to bring God’s Gospel into submission to our personalization of it is usually when we find ourselves especially in need. Perhaps we are ill. Maybe we are in severe financial straits. We might be at a point of confusion or consternation. Or maybe even someone we love is facing tragedy. Frailty, pain, vulnerability, and confusion can be very frightening and very difficult. It is hard to be calm and circumspect when your world is crumbling down around you. And it is extremely easy to do and to think and to believe a personalized version of the gospel when the real Gospel of Jesus Christ simply isn’t responding to our immediate hurt.

Psalm 69:1-3
A Psalm of David.
Save me, O God,
For the waters have threatened my life.
I have sunk in deep mire, and there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters, and a flood overflows me.
I am weary with my crying; my throat is parched;
My eyes fail while I wait for my God.

So we create “mini” gospels, within the Gospel of Jesus Christ, to meet our glaring needs:
a gospel of physical healing
a gospel of emotional healing
a gospel of friendship and loyalty
a gospel of family faithfulness
a gospel of global acceptance and grace
a gospel of guaranteed prosperity
a gospel of mysterious powers
A gospel of glorious ecstasies

Of course, we find a plethora of scriptures to back our views and claims. And we usually recruit a “band of brothers and sisters” to join us in our fervency. And often, we slip into an “us-versus-them” mode of operating that insulates us from painful opposition and provides justification for our denigration of dissenters.

But Jesus never told us to do any of these things.  These personalized gospels merely siphon the real power and the real glory and the real Truth from the real Gospel of Jesus Christ. To put it simply . . . Jesus never told us:

“Come to healing.”
“Come to friendship.”
“Come to your family.”
“Come to grace.”
“Come to prosperity.”
“Come to special revelations and glories.”

Jesus simply said, “Come to Me . . .”

As I was reading this verse in Matthew a few days ago, I saw that my Bible’s footnotes mentioned that Jesus was quoting the Old Testament when He spoke these words. So I looked up the scripture reference. It is a selection from the book of Jeremiah, where the Lord is speaking about Israel’s sin:

They have healed the brokenness of My people superficially,
Saying, “Peace, peace,”
But there is no peace.

Were they ashamed because of the abomination they have done?
They were not even ashamed at all;
They did not even know how to blush . . .

Thus says the LORD:
"Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths,
Where the good way is, and walk in it;
And you will find rest for your souls."
But they said, “We will not walk in it.”

And I set watchmen over you, saying,
“Listen to the sound of the trumpet!”

But they said,
“We will not listen.”
Jeremiah 6:17-17

When we insist upon having our own gospel with our own revelations and tailorings within our own community in our own way then we have relegated the whole of our existence to very mortal, very capricious gods. We become burdened with things that are not from God. We become weary from the need to continually control and manipulate everything and everyone so that our constructed reality doesn’t fall apart. We anesthetize our pain and assuage our confusion and fear by the temporary work of our own hands and thoughts and words. We call forth “Peace, peace” and “Healing, healing,” and “Happiness, happiness,” and “Grace, grace,” but it is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is our gospel.

Jesus is The Way, The Truth, and The Life (John 14:6). When we come to Him, He will be the “ancient path,” the “good way.” He is no guarantee that things will become exactly like we want them. Our pain will not mystically disappear. Sometimes, we must even face persecutions from our families, our communities, and even our friends when we narrow our perspective to that of only Jesus. But when we come to Jesus, we will have Life. Real Life.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Just as it is written, " FOR YOUR SAKE WE ARE BEING PUT TO DEATH ALL DAY LONG; WE WERE CONSIDERED AS SHEEP TO BE SLAUGHTERED. But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:35-39

God calls to His people:
 “Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it.”

His Word stands as a Watchman over our souls, saying:
 “Listen to the sound of the trumpet!”

Jesus beckon us,:
“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”

Now, therefore, fear the LORD and serve Him in sincerity and truth; and put away the gods which your fathers served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the LORD.


If it is disagreeable in your sight to serve the LORD, choose for yourselves today whom you will serve: whether the gods which your fathers served which were beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.
Joshua 24:14-15

I love the words to this beautiful hymn.  They called to my heart to "come to Jesus" when I was a small girl at a huge Billy Graham Crusade.  They call to my heart even today . . .

I Surrender All
by: Judson W. Van de Venter

All to Jesus I surrender,
All to Him I freely give;
I will ever love and trust Him,
In His presence daily live.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Humbly at His feet I bow,
Worldly pleasures all forsaken;
Take me, Jesus, take me now.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Make me, Savior, wholly Thine;
Let me feel Thy Holy Spirit,
Truly know that Thou art mine.


All to Jesus I surrender,
Lord, I give myself to Thee;
Fill me with Thy love and power,
Let Thy blessing fall on me.


All to Jesus I surrender,
Now I feel the sacred flame.
Oh, the joy of full salvation!
Glory, glory to His name!


I surrender all,
I surrender all.
All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.

God can fill everything. He fills the empty, broken places with his healing and love. He fills the fearful or lonely places with His safety and comfort. He fills the places that seem already full with His wisdom and perspective and direction. There is a God who fills everything. And He is always more than enough.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Unedited.
Unembellished.
Elegant and simple.
Come to Jesus.
And rest.

Is God Your Lord or Your Steward?

I took a walk through the meadows and wooded trails of Kirkhaven a few days ago. The black-raspberries were beginning to ripen, so I picked a few to make some ice-cream topping. Clover, wild roses, and honeysuckle were blooming everywhere, leaving gentle scent bouquets wafting in the breeze. My son’s hunting dog, Pike, gleefully ran ahead of me, sniffing for critters in the brush, as I silently meandered in and out of cool shade patches.

My heart was overwhelmed with the goodness and the bounty of the Lord. Everywhere I looked, I saw mature poplar and oak trees I had not planted . . . thriving berry patches I had not tended . . . sun-bathed meadows of daisies I had not watered. Even the beautiful chirping and singing of blue birds, cardinals, and wood thrushes didn’t need my direction or care to serenade the summer afternoon.

In that simple, quiet walk, the God-ness of God completely overwhelmed the me-ness of me.

In a sense, I knew that I owned the land I was walking on.
I could see the red barn we had built with its newly finished chicken coop . . .
and hear our rooster practicing his crowing.
I could stroll beside earthy-smelling herbs in our lush, green garden . . .
and pick a hand-full of sweet peas for our evening salad.
I could look across the western meadow toward the well and the nearly-finished pond . . .
and dream about next year’s fishing ventures.

The seeds of our dreams and the plans of our hearts and the work of our hands were clearly evident on the landscape of my ridge-top home. And I knew that very soon, David’s red truck and Rachel’s gray car would roll down our gravel road . . . coming home from work . . . bringing fellowship, laughter, and joy with them.

All of these things were rich, colorful, threads being woven into the tapestry of my life.

But the overwhelming joy in my heart was not rooted in all the things my husband and I had done to build our family farm. The freedom I felt was in knowing that Kirkhaven was God’s property . . . His possession . . . not mine. And I was His possession, too. It was God’s loom that held the warp in place and His Hand that skillfully wove every specially-chosen welt. He was the weaver. He was Lord.

Whatever we believe about ourselves and our lives here on this earth,
we really need to know this crucial truth:

The bounty and the goodness are the Lord’s.
We are simply stewards.

Sometimes the people of God become entangled in error . . .
perhaps even dabbling in idolatry . . .
when they begin to think that they are the artists of their lives.

We can easily make the mistake of believing that
commendable accomplishments
or virtuous behavior
or disciplined habits
or cheerful demeanors
or charitable actions
or educated opinions
or enduring friendships
or healthy choices
or loving families
or prosperous lifestyles . . .

that all of these things
can be wielded as beautiful instruments
in our own hands
as we sculpt and paint and create our own living masterpieces . . .
life as we see it . . .
as we think it should be . . .
interpreted through our own, unique flourishes of texture and color.

Our own masterpieces.

But it is a grave mistake to believe any such things.

Because when we begin to believe that we are the creator . . . the gifted artist . . . , then we start to think of God as our steward. His character becomes a storehouse from which we gather riches for our kingdom. His Goodness becomes our birthright. His Mercy becomes our presumptuous expectation. His Healing becomes our much treasured prize. His Grace becomes our crown and glory. The things of the Kingdom of God become resources in the kingdom of me. And resources, as any good economist will tell you, can be bought and sold in the marketplace if you have the right currency.

A little insightful flattery.
A bit of well-timed denigration.
Eloquent application of promises and guarantees.
Artful use of cloaked warnings.
Creative splashes of humor and wit.
The right amount of hospitality mixed with a calculated measure of shunning.
A pinch of control here . . . a tweak of manipulation there.
It becomes far too easy to reach into our bag of royal coins and buy whatever reality we choose.

We become skilled in the nuances and craft of lordship
when we believe that heaven is our storehouse
and the hand of God is our ever-present valet.

Christians must not live this way.

The earth is the LORD'S, and all it contains,
The world, and those who dwell in it.
For He has founded it upon the seas
And established it upon the rivers.
Who may ascend into the hill of the LORD?
And who may stand in His holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
Who has not lifted up his soul to falsehood
And has not sworn deceitfully.
He shall receive a blessing from the LORD
And righteousness from the God of his salvation.
This is the generation of those who seek Him,
Who seek Your face—even Jacob.
Selah.
Psalms 24:1-6

He is the creator, the artist, the potter, the weaver at the loom.
We must be the stewards.

We are stewards, not lords.
And God cares very much about the hands and the hearts of His stewards.

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

Neither a happy life nor beautiful life-accoutrements truly indicate real Life in the Kingdom of God.

I sense, deep in my spirit, that God is calling His children to listen to Him.
To examine their gospel and see if it is the real Gospel.

There may be some very difficult times ahead of us. For many people, difficult times have already come. What will the canvas of our lives look like if the economy in America crashes? What story will our life tapestry tell if our Christian faith falls into dark social or political disfavor? What will be the testimony from our lips if the things we hold precious and dear are stolen or destroyed or fall away from us?

I believe the answers to these questions are dependent upon two factors:
Who is the Lord?
Who is the steward?

Are we the lord . . . the gifted artist . . . that creates the masterpiece of our life?
Or does the Lord God Almighty hold our life in the palms of His nail-scarred hands?

Is God the personalized steward of all our dreams and desires?
Or are we the faithful stewards of God’s costly, precious Truth?

Who is the Lord?
Who is the steward?
From whence does the goodness come?
Of whom is the testimony given?

But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;
I have made the Lord GOD my refuge,
That I may tell of all Your works.
Psalms 73:28

The Joys of Chickens

Now that they are 7 weeks old, I have decided to write a little about my fledging experience in raising Black Australorps. It is surprising how much I am enjoying my growing chicks. There is just something very satisfying and peaceful about sitting in the middle of my happy brood, watching them enjoy their busy day.  I am delighted with how gentle and quiet my chickens are. They will eat out of my hand and nap right up against my foot or leg. The only thing we have found that really frightens them is the sound of a cell phone ringing. So I don’t take my cell phone to the chicken coop. :)

Here are some pictures of my chicks on the day they arrived at Kirkhaven. They travelled from Missouri to my East Tennessee farm via the United States Postal Service. I drove to our local branch office to pick them up. I started laughing the minute I walked through the post office doors and heard them chirping. It just seemed like such a quirky thing to do . . . pick up my package of live chicks at the post office.
 
 

I kept my tiny chicks in a homemade brooder in my basement. We suspended a heat lamp from the upper bar of the weight-lifting set and used extra wood pieces as baffles on the lid to control the temperature inside the brooder. Our original plan was to keep them in the barn, but my kind husband graciously moved the chicks into our basement when I worried about keeping them warm enough during the chilly, early-spring nights. We built the brooder from poplar boards that were milled from trees right here on our property. We have huge stacks of rough hewn poplar, red oak, white oak, hickory, and cherry in our western meadow and were delighted to find a good use for some of the dried boards.

We are still quite a few weeks away from having any lovely, brown eggs, and our rooster hasn’t yet learned to crow. But the Kirkhaven chickens are now settled nicely into their new chicken coop and fenced chicken run. Fourteen soon-to-be laying hens and one adolescent rooster. We built their new abode inside two of our existing barn bays using the same rough-hewn Kirkhaven lumber that we used in building the brooder. They only have one roost installed low to the ground and we haven’t constructed the nesting boxes yet, but my Kirkhaven chickens seem to really appreciate their cozy little home.

Here’s our fancy door lock at the chicken run entrance. . .

Here’s the human’s door into the coop . . .

and, of course, the “special” chicken door . . .

There is such a pleasant, quaint rhythm to caring for my chickens. Here they are greeting me as I open their coop doors in the morning.

A couple of them always keep an eye on the food and water containers when I clean them and fill them for the day. Chickens are pretty smart. They know that all kinds of yummy treats come from the hands that feed them.

Delicious snacks also fly through and crawl in through the perimeter fencing. The most alert chicken has the best chance at catching the bug. Fence watching is a favorite morning activity.

There is always lots of happy chirping and congregating and scratching.

And there is always vigilant surveillance of both the ground and the sky.

Even the sand box . . . which is a luxurious place to take a lavish dust bath or a relaxing, cool nap . . . often has a selection of insects for a breakfast buffet.

It is important to note, however, that the chicken you are NOT focusing on is the chicken you should probably watch out for. Chickens are quite curious about cameras.

Seven-week-old chickens are not as cute as they once were, and they not as beautiful as they are going to be. Some have begun to grow combs and wattles. Some are beginning to add a little squawky clucking to their sweet baby chirps. All of them have a crazy-looking combination of baby fluff, emerging pin feathers, and shiny adult plumage that . . . pretty much . . . . only a mother can love. Sometimes, in the afternoon sun, you can see the iridescent blue-green-purple sheen that makes Black Australorps so beautiful. For now, however, they are definitely awkward adolescents.

I tried to get a portrait of my handsome rooster, but he was too busy this morning. He had a lot to do. And he would rather peck the camera than pose for it. He isn’t aggressive, however . . . thank the Lord. He loves to nap against my feet when I am sitting in the chicken run on my “thinking stool.” Actually, if I am wearing my crocks (my all-time-favorite shoes that I got as an early mother’s day gift), Elijah likes to nap on top of them.

Here are some portraits of three of my pullets (a pullet is a hen that is less than a year old). These girls were quite willing to pose for the camera. Each one is maturing at her own, special rate. They are beginning to shed the last bit of their cream and white markings. Soon, even their feet and their beaks will be solid black.

And here is what a chicken looks like right before she pecks the camera . . .

It was, of course, just a curious kind of peck. Could be a bug hiding in there . . . ya never know unless ya peck!

I really don’t know why this desire to raise chickens has come to my husband and I. But I do know that I am enjoying it immensely. This evening, when I walk out to the chicken coop to close things up for the night, I will say another prayer of thanksgiving. I will see my chickens lined up like contented, sleepy soldiers on their homemade roost. And it will make me laugh . . . again.

Sometimes I walk to the chicken coop alone as the sun is setting behind our western meadow and the first stars are beginning to twinkle over my quiet rooftop. Sometimes I walk hand-in-hand with my husband, and we chat about the garden or the pond or the weather in May. It feels like God is building an ark . . . a peaceful, bountiful haven . . . here . . . on this small piece of the world the Lord has given us to steward. My heart is so grateful and so quieted. And I am filled with wonder at the prospect of what He might do next.

For me, it is the common things that bring great satisfaction and joy.

There is far too much sorrow in life.
Way too much pain.
Too often things can be sad or difficult of just plain dreary.

But simple things . . .
like watching the sun rise . . .
or watering the garden . . .
or chatting with a friend . . .
or mowing the lawn . . .
or picking berries with a child . . .
or cooking dinner . . .
or watching the chickens . . .
simple things are always there, every day.
Finding joy in them is something anyone can do . . .
anyone willing to quiet their soul,
and dare to be content
in the company
of God.

The best day . . .
for me . . .
is the day that I get to revel in the simple joys
of Life in . . .
and Life alongside . . .
and Life by
the Lord Jesus.

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.