Broken

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.
-John 13:34


Do you love Me?

I hear this question resound through my head at all times- when I'm in the grocery store, alone in my bedroom, struggling to fill out tedious spreadsheets at work. And each time I hear it, I answer the same way. Yes, Lord, You know I do.

Then He speaks again, softly, yet with an urgent undertone. Do you love Me enough to break for Me?

Break for Him. That would require a rendering of my heart, a vulnerability to extract any self-preservation I hid deep within me and cast it at His crown. Can I do this?

My heart is shielded. By this nothing can penetrate to its core unless I allow entrance. It’s been safe, static. The beat in its chambers are steady. To crack the armor means to welcome pain, welcome feeling, welcome the weeping of others. I am far from perfect, far from forgiving those who have wronged me and left me weary and alone, and I fight this feeling of feeling.

But a pulse pounds in the distance. I lift my ears and follow the sound until I reach Calvary. There, atop a trodden and treacherous hill, lies my Love. His eyes grab my soul, His thorns removing mine. And as the final breath bubbles from His mouth, a flood of restlessness chips my strength, and I am emptied. Moving with no effort, He fills me with a tenderness I could not, would not, possess on my own. Yet this tenderness is solid, striking. My heart beats in time with His, squeezes when I see His face in the lines and curves of those I meet.

I came to Him, walls up, and He met me, palms bleeding at the foot of the cross. He exchanged His heart for mine, giving me the purest form of love imaginable- life. All He asks is for me to share this wonderful gift with hurting hearts, so very similar to my own.

Jesus was broken for me; how can I not be break myself for others in return?



Prayer:
Lord, I want to feel. I want to feel the rush of Your love course through me and radiate to others. I want to see with Your eyes, I want to break with Your heart. Create in me a selfless soul, so I may better further Your kingdom. Amen.

Ask Me

Ask and it shall be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.
-Matthew 7:7-8


The woods are silent, full of darkness with no reassurance from the moon. Her steps move rapidly, leaves crackling underfoot as she darts along the trail, looking around her as if mentally warding off any monsters on her trail. Just up ahead, beyond the mossy oak tree that looks like a sleeping giant, a cottage is perched in the middle of a grass field, plush as a welcome mat.

Her heart rises to her throat as the glow of lights grows brighter. Never did she think that this place, with its swirling smoke escaping from the chimney and roof made of thatched straw, would welcome her this late into the night, this deep into her need. But she has nowhere else to turn, and the people of the village told her the tenant will indeed tend to her questions.

The clearing pulls open before her, and she attempts to slow her breathing with her steps, which seem to stick into the grass with each reach of her leg. Approaching the door, she pauses, inches from the brass handle and she wonders whether it will open or remain shut, leaving her shrouded in a damp, midnight musing. The window next to it illuminates the shadowed ground, but when she leans to look inside, nothing can be seen.

A stirring starts inside her. Curious of the sudden warmth, she lifts a shaky fist to the heavy wooden door and knocks once. A lightness rushes through her, as if when she touched the wooden frame, a strength flooded through her body from whatever moved on the other side. Bolder, her hands heave against the door again and again, until a sweet melody flows from her fingers.

The door opens wide, a torrent of light wrapping around her. Standing with arms wide open is a man with a radiant countenance. His smile stretches from ear to ear, eyes blazing with recognition.

“Welcome, my child.” He ushers her in to a room filled with gifts of all shapes and sizes- wooden soldiers intricately painted in matching uniforms, books with velvet covers, block forts built all around the corners of the walls. But there are other gifts as well- unusual gifts to her tired eyes. On the shelf above the crackling fireplace lay Strength. Patience stacks at an angle behind the rocking chair and overflowing out of the closest tumbles Heart’s Desire.

He catches her assessing these gifts and their eyes meet. She opens her mouth to apologize for snooping but he waves her over to an ornate brass table, beautiful floral designs carved along the legs. There in the middle sits a large golden box wrapped in pink lace.

“Take a closer look,” he says, eyes shining. The wrapping feels like silk under her hands as she turns the box over and reads the inscription. There, written in fine cursive, her name sparkles in the lamplight. A gasp escapes her lips. Could it be? She dare not hope, but takes great care in detaching the ribbon and shifting the top edges. She clears the paper away and delicately pulls out the object inside.

No words escape her mouth; she stands staring at the treasure held in her palms. Before leaving to find the cottage, she had laid her most buried fears at the feet of this man, whom she had yet to meet but hoped would answer. She expressed her most fragile wants to the night, everything she was too afraid to speak. At the very end, into the inky blackness, she made one simple request. If it wasn’t too much, could her wish be granted?

She holds her prize to her chest, tears freely falling. This man’s gift went beyond what she expected, beyond what she could only hope for in dreams.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Endless joy pools in his eyes at her words. He doesn’t have to say a syllable; in that instant, everything she fears, every question sought, blends into one abundant longing fulfilled, and her uncertainty melts away on the wings of wonder.


Ask, and it shall be given to you. Seek and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you.

The Lord longs to be gracious to you, for you to take yourself to Him with even the tiniest request. He wants to hear what you say.

He is good. So very good. He wants to hear His children at His door, knuckles scratched from scraping across the wood in confident announcement. And when the hinges swing open and we are standing in the warm glow of God’s encouraging smile, we speak. His grin grows. He longs to hear His child ask Him for her hopes. And He loves to give.

Bring your desires and wishes before our Father, who longs to lavish you with gifts beyond comprehension.


Prayer:
Ask, and I shall receive. Seek, and I will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to me. It’s hard to think that the Ruler of the world wants me to actively unload my dreams and longings. But when I come before Your door and earnestly knock, You open it for me, wide and welcoming. Please let me remember You want me to come to You, to ask for even little things, because they matter to You. Thank You for giving me the greatest gift of all- Your Son, Jesus. Amen.

Trust

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. -Proverbs 3:5-6


One word. One leap of faith.

I am pouring my heart out to God, grappling with all He is saying and attempting to assemble the mixed pieces of me that come in a tattered plastic bag called life. He gives me little frames of the big picture, and I grab them with grimy, eager fingers and arrange and rearrange to how I see they should fit. Sometimes I get frustrated and jam a job in the bottom corner where it doesn’t sit quite right. I place a relationship next to it, though it appears upside down and a tad bit crooked when I take a step back.

But to me, my picture looks good. I see some nice colors and feel the flow and think how I could shuffle a few more pieces and they’d match up pretty well. Still I stare, eyes assessing.

There is something missing, one brush stroke from keeping it a masterpiece. My pencil slips from my pocket to my hands, and I turn it over and press the eraser to the work in front of me. Line marks and pencil shavings shower the canvas as I rework my life portrait, only when I step back again and take notice of this abstract art, it is out of order worse than before. This is definitely NOT a piece I’d be proud to hang in my hallway.

In the middle of my musing, underneath my workbench I hear a scrape along the wooden floorboards. Dipping towards the sound, I crouch and scan the dark crevice underneath me. There, huddling in the back, resting between clouds of dust and dirty rags stained with paint, the one word I had lost months ago stares me straight in the face. I level myself and sit, staring back, until I tentatively reach out my hand in invitation. I am unsure how it will react- I had never bothered to look for it once it was gone and pushed any thought of it out of my mind. I was doing just fine on my own. My puzzle was coming together nicely; it was aesthetically pleasing from the outside. Others loved how it looked. Only I remembered the thin foundation it tottered precariously on. Only I knew the void beneath the layers.

Still, it’s been so long since I welcomed this word into my world, since I let it transform me. Could I be allowed another chance? After it was right beneath my feet all along, and I brushed it back when I became too busy creating my own tapestry of tales?

My hand reaches farther into the darkness, bold now. I need this, I realize, I cannot continue crashing layer upon layer of life onto one another, tangling my direction in yards of knotted yarn.

“Please,” I beg the object in the shadows, “You are what I must hold onto.”

Delicately, it slinks closer, faster, picking up power until I am knocked on my back with the weight now wriggling in my arms. A warm realization washes over me, and I wonder how I ever thought I could do this alone. I hold such a comfort, nestling it close to my chest. The missing piece to my puzzle, found at last.

Trust.

One tiny word. Big implications.

I've been coming up with all these brilliant ideas. Good stuff, too. All involving my life and where I'm thinking God is taking it.
I look back at my journal entries. When I wrote the things I did, I'm sure God thought it was utterly laughable. Me, trying to take the great matters of the universe in my small, clumsy hands.

Hasn't He shown me over and over how capable and reliable He is?

Our own life’s paintings have smudges, tears at the edges, wrinkles and mixed colors from broken crayons haphazardly tossed on the paper. When we layer that first line, charcoal seeping into the fibers of the print, we see it straight. It appears to be as it should, so we add Crayola, coloring the roses in our garden yellow and painting green into the sky. We’re on to something beautiful, and we continue forward, building bridges with pictures, creating a collage of culture.

We step back to admire our artwork, pastels in our hair and paintbrush in hand. But instead of that wonderful image we were certain was made, the painting before us is swirled in squiggles and blurred with blots. Where did we go wrong? How can our life, our creation, look like this? We are alone in our workroom, but hear a soft rustle close by. Too close to imagine, too close to ignore.

Check under the table. The Great Painter who sits at your easel just might show you the right tool to take your image from a clutter of confusion to something breathtaking.



Prayer:
Gracious God, how many times do I try and take my life into my own hands? How often do I forge ahead making plans from the ideas You give me, only to run in place? Father, You hold my paintbrush in Your hands, and You draw with sure, solid strokes. I turn my life over to You, to take control of my canvas. Make me beautiful. Amen.

Be Still

Lord, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I don’t concern myself with matters too great or awesome for me. But I have stilled and quieted myself… -Psalm 131:1-2


God wanted to speak to me the other day. I knew it, too. All morning I had this pressing on my heart, and as I came back from lunch, my car idling in the parking lot as I watched the American flag across the street flutter in the wind, I knew we would have a discussion. “Later tonight, Lord,” I acquiesced. “We’ll talk later.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and after work I stopped at home to say hi to my mom and little brother. I stuck around a little later than I intended, warming myself in the comfort of the home I grew up in. By the time I ran a few errands and filtered back to my apartment, it was nine. As soon as I hung up my coat, switched on the living room lights and returned to my room, I felt Him watching, waiting with words unspoken, like He always is.

But I was cowering. I had a nagging feeling I knew the topic of conversation and didn’t want to go there. So I stalled. I picked up my room, checked my email, hopped in the shower. Still, my heart heaved within and my mind dug up one thought over and over, and each time I buried it deep inside, refusing to let it surface. I turned my thoughts to others, and prayed for them. “I’m not ready to talk about that yet, Lord,” I pleaded my case as I padded once more around my room, shifting my sheets and examining the ceiling fan. Minutes later, I still paced, heart beating wildly within. This time, though, I knew that my fight was over.

“Alright, alright. I’m ready. As ready as I can be, I guess. What do You want to say?” Silence hovered around the room, but inside my mind raced, running like a horse around and around a ring. I couldn’t think of a starting point and I just felt lost.

So I wrote. I grabbed my black leather journal and penned my request to God.
Ok Lord, the Spirit has been pressing on my heart all day. I have been avoiding it because I know what You want to talk to me about, and I’m not ready to go there. I’m not. If I’m being honest with You, I’m afraid to go there. You know this already, but I am a bit terrified to say it out loud. But I’m ready. You’re waiting for me. Again. Let’s have a true, honest chat and see what You say.

And the gates of Heaven opened. I just understood that even though my Father knew everything, every tiny detail and hidden desire within me, He wanted me to confide in Him, to talk as very best friends, my most intimate of companions.

I did, shaking at the foot of my bed, realization racking my rib cage. I poured out the longing I had felt so fervently in my heart. How I’m not one to fold up foolish fancies and keep them in my pocket, that I’m a realist and do not keep images in my mind if they aren’t possible.

There was one voice resounding in my head, that same one pushing and prying its way to the surface in my mind. I had to confront it, get rid of the possibility and ask God that if this wasn’t in His plan for me, to take it away. But every time I tried to speak, those words were stuck in my throat, and an overwhelming sense of panic struck. I attempted about four times, each with the same result. It was the weirdest thing. So weird. And the more I couldn’t voice my deepest fear and desire, the tighter my chest constricted and my mind swirled.

In my confusion I cried out to God. “I don’t know why I can’t say it, but give me something!” Pulling my Blessing Box up on my covers, I pulled out the scripture passage for the day. Psalm 131. Shakily, I read the lines and, incredulous, pulled up the psalm in my Bible and read it out loud.

“Lord, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I don’t concern myself with matters too great or awesome for me. But I have stilled and quieted myself, just as a small child is quiet with its mother. Yes, like a small child is my soul within me. O Israel, put your hope in the Lord- now and always.”

As I prayed that psalm, clarity immediately rushed in and that scripture applied directly to me. Over and over I repeated, “I have stilled and quieted myself, Lord I do not concern myself with matters too awesome for me. I have quieted my heart before You.” And my heart was stilled. Calm. A warm river of soft silence encompassed me, and at that moment I didn’t have to say another word of what was hiding deep in my heart- He knew, and He knew that I would come to Him when the time was appropriate. He will bring it up again, and at that time, I will remember this moment and go to Him with honesty and ease because Perfect Love casts out fear. My Father took me from the tumultuous torrent taking me under and lifted me out of the heavy waters to give breath anew, fresh and full.

Be still. Quiet yourself before our dear and patient God. He knows how you ache, how the storms rage within. But He will raise you to new heights, pour peace into your weary and ragged soul. How comforting it is to climb into the lap of our great Love and rest awhile!



Prayer:
Once again, You are my great Love. When I am filled with such tightness within, You stroke my soul to dissipate my fear. How beautiful You are, how gently You rock me in Your arms, stilling my anxiety and soothing me as Your child. Let me take refuge in You, to quiet myself in order to hear Your promising whisper. Amen.

Blustery Direction

The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.
-John 3:8


We just went through a few days of the strongest winds in state history. Tornadoes touching down, whole trees toppling, people clearing off their patios and anchoring anything they did not want removed by natural force. There were a few times I had to stop walking and brace myself, digging my shoes into the pavement to keep from flying away as I was pushed sideways from the swooping air. These wracking winds made me thankful for a strong foundation of a building to sleep in, for protection against the forces outside that howled throughout the night. But it also made me widely aware of the sheer power it possessed.

Wind. It comes in various forms- gentle, cooling, blustery, hurricane, a whisper. Sometimes it isn’t even present. Or is it, but we just can’t find it? As Nicholas Sparks wrote in A Walk to Remember: “Love is like the wind. You can’t see it but you can feel it.”

God is like that, too. He comes to us in the lightest of breezes, the stirring above us that tosses our hair and kisses our face. He prods us, pulling at our hearts until we, like the trees outside, bow to His calling.

But what of those moments when the air is still, and silence echoes around us? When we can’t decipher what He says or wonder why He shows no movement? We try and create our own wind tunnels, sprinting down the road attempting to generate a man-made pressure that leaves us soon after our steps slow. Then, we are left standing in our starting spot once again, with no wind in our sails. We listen, ears heavy from straining to hear the smallest of whistles. We wait.

And God answers. He makes His move, rushing in with typhoon-like strength that bowls us over quite unexpectedly. His voice swarms around us, swirling leaves and lives, and in His mighty power picks us up and sets us down miles from where we stood. Like Dorothy, our houses are tossed and twirled and land in some bright, bursting world- His kingdom inside our spirit. Reeling from the aftershock, we tentatively step into the new realm, which still rumbles with His presence.

Does this mean we cannot learn to hear Him in the mild moments, in the comforting draft that wraps around us, yet unable to see the wind storm approaching? No. But sometimes, when we feel no air upon us, it is then that God is working in the clouds, preparing a gale forced conversation where He will then reveal the wonders He has in store for us.

Be prepared for a hurricane, though. I experienced one just the other week, where after months of gently stirring my atmosphere, God spoke so prominently to me I could hear nothing except His plan for my life crashing into my heart. Sometimes we are too stubborn to listen and He unleashes a current so magnificent it bends us backwards until His commands are lassoed in our hearts. And we emerge from our storm cellars enlightened, shell shocked from the power displayed within us.


Prayer:
Lord, I cannot see You. But I know that You are there, sifting through my heart and speaking in the silence. Please let me listen, let me feel Your word blowing in the wind of life and learn to stand firm in each current reaching my way. Amen.

Our Great Romance

My lover spoke and said to me, “Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me.”
-Song of Songs 2:10

The other night I had the most amazing date. It didn’t quite start out that way, but boy, was it all worth it at the end of the evening!

We had decided to meet in the middle of the week so I could unwind from the unexpected events and twists in life bogging me down. On Wednesday morning, I awoke with such expectancy, looking forward to it all day, and every time I thought about him I wished to blink and have the evening upon me. I had told him I would be there at the end of the day, at our secret spot. Nothing was going to keep me from our meeting.

At 5:05, I got stuck at work. Definitely NOT part of my plan. Thirty minutes later, I was able to leave, but I realized I had left my half of the water bill payment at the apartment and had to swing home before the village building closed at six. I ran upstairs, grabbed my check and flew back to my car. The time on my clock when I pulled into the parking lot? 5:58. Sprinting into the building, I rambled to the poor lady behind the counter about leaving things to the last minute, thrust the checks in her face and launched myself outside and into my car.

Finally, finally, I made it to the nearby nature preserve. As I pulled into the parking circle I practically jumped out of the car before I killed the engine, loaded my arms with blankets, grapes and my Bible and set off at a record breaking speed walk. As I started into the woods, I imagined him there at the bluff, waiting for me. Patiently. Laughing at how he knew I wouldn’t be there on time but loving me anyway. At least one of us could find some humor in the situation. This evening was NOT turning out as I planned. I was so looking forward to this, excited to clear my head and stare up at the sky and nestle in his calming arms. Instead, I was running around breathless, head so cluttered I was amazed I actually remembered to not lock my keys in the car, all the while the sun slide down the horizon. Soon, I knew, we’d be covered in darkness and autumn’s chill would venture outside to fill the night.

As I hurried up the path speckled with woodchips and leaves, anticipation bubbled inside me. In a few short steps, the path would curve and there he’d be, watching for me. I eagerly pushed on, and when I lifted my head, there he was. A smile painted itself on my face; he was wearing blue, my favorite color.

I strode to the edge of the bluff and just gazed upon him- so immense, deep and powerful. His hands dipped into Lake Michigan and stirred the currents, voice echoing through the waters. Eyes shining like the moon above, the faintest twinkling of stars adorned my own as He greeted me with the sweetest silhouettes of birch tree shadows. His presence immediately flushed out the frenzy inside and filled me with serene silence.

Irrevocably, He is mine. He is my Beloved. Yes, the Lord delights in me. For all His jaw dropping beauty of the lake and twilight twirling sky, He waited patiently for me to join Him, so we could bask in one another and bathe in the smooth, calming waves lapping gently at the shore below.

He is doing the same with you. He stands, waiting, watching you hurry and forget your way and lose track of the time. For every frustration prying itself to the surface, His steadfast love is circling above you, guiding you down the stumble-strewn path you walk, until around the bend you see Him, arms outstretched to take your hand in His own and start the most adventurous romance possible. You’re almost at the clearing, almost through the forest of isolation, sun dripping between the few branches left that keep you from His crystalline, star studded sky. Keep walking. He is watching for you, waiting to woo you with an overwhelming love.


Prayer:
Beautiful Lover of my heart, countless times You wait for me, watch me run through life rushed and confused. But the tighter I wrap myself in seclusion, the wider You spread your blanket of compassion, eager to take my haggard heart and instill Your comfort. I thank You that You stand before me, serenading me with an uncompromising and unyielding love, if only I will cling to Your voice. Please, remind me of Your power, but also of Your soothing arms around me. Amen.