More Than We Imagine

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

-Ephesians 3:20-21

 

When we were in kindergarten, what did we love? To paint, to color, to draw outside the lines. And our journal time in third grade? Who didn’t love using their mind to create a story, to put down all the rushing feelings that coursed through our veins? We were invincible in our imagination.

            But somewhere between adolescent and adult, the bright colors muted, clouds coated our skies and dreaming was saved for the subconscious. We lost the ability to feel. For what? Bigger paychecks and a stamp in society? Some of the greatest accomplishments, greatest impacts on reality and how we think, were wielded by men and women who refused to crush the creativity inside, to bend to the lines of conformity.

            Just because we must grow old doesn’t mean we must grow up. Our Creator designed us with purpose, with such an individual uniqueness that reflects His persona. We are formed, we are fantastic, we are filled with the blinding light of fantasy. If we choose to listen for His voice, softly speaking, we will hear all that has been written on our hearts, all we cannot beat in blood without. He is drawing us closer, closer to His light and love, to our purpose, to the burst of life we’ve held in wait inside our heartstrings since the moment time froze and we realized that we, once again, had the ok to dream.

Find those crayons again. Sit at your favorite table, in that comfiest seat that was your safe haven so many years ago and hold fast to the pictures you draw with eager hands. In His power you can do more than your heart has had the hope to dare. You are young. You are His. Your imagination is just beginning.

 

Prayer:

Lord, You are the ultimate Creator. You spoke, and the universe sprang into existence. In the beginning was the Word, sure and strong and sparkling. In Your creation, You set Yourself in our hearts. You have made my heart Your home. And through my skin, my soul, my mind, You have fastened limitless wonder and dreams. In Your strength, I can soar to uncharted heights, I can create. I can showcase Your splendor. Release me to radiate Your warmth, and to reflect my beloved Artist. Amen.

When You Loved

See how I love Your precepts;

Preserve my life, Lord, in accordance with Your love.

-Psalm 119:159

 

 

When You laughed, the sky scattered into a thousand pieces, arranging themselves at the shore of Your smile.

            When You spoke, the trees of the earth jumped for joy and strained to hear Your voice through their leaves.

            When You loved, the oceans couldn’t soak up enough of Your heart.

            When You touched the untouchables, searing their skin with Your soul, the crowds gasped, but the lepers leapt with jovial transformation.

            When You prayed, the gates of Heaven swung wide and welcomed in Your words.

            When You believed, there wasn’t a single person who didn’t see the fruition of Your faith.

            When You bled, a crimson current rushed to the realm of humanity and resurfaced as our saving grace.

            When You arose, Your glory shined like no eye had ever seen, no electric jolt so full of life and luster.

            When You turned to me and whispered, “My love, this is for you,” no greater joy could be found than in my blooming heart.

 

Prayer:

Lord, how You love me! How You set the heavens in their place and picked me for Your family. I am warmed by Your words, delighted by Your deeds. You came so far to set me free. Let me fall into Your love. Amen.

Hot Within Me

My heart grew hot within me,

and as I meditated, the fire burned.

-Psalm 39:3

 

I have been hiding something. A presence so consuming, so encompassing, I’ve fought time and time again to conceal it. Something I have truly been suppressing, no matter how much I've danced about it on some semblance of a floor. Truly.

Something spectacular is rising up within me.  And there is no other way about it.

There is something inside of me that cannot stay hidden, cannot stay sleeping. And I think this realization has become a break between my old, frail life since the beginning of this year and what is to come, what I am imploring to explode into the sky of my eyes.

I think that it is time. Once and for all.

God has woven words into my being, through the fabric of my soul and settled into the sea of my heart. I cannot let them bob around and slowly sink. I owe it to Him to do something with who He has made me to be. I must not be silent.

This feeling is so strong right now, I taste its ink-splashed texture in my veins. 

Which reminds me.

There is something you should know.

We are more powerful than we think. More powerful than we can imagine and fully realize.

I think God put His Spirit into us so we can take this power and wield it to what we are meant to use it for. To blaze God's name into the night, lit and lasting, in our own, beautiful, terrifying way.

I know you might be feeling a lot of nothing right now. Ashen and full of fading embers, even. But I hope that the flame inside decides to burn once more. That your heart grows hot with the sweet smoke of hope that catches fire and burns. And that you nurture and kindle it so masterfully that it cannot be contained into the corner it has found its way into. You are already rising. I feel it in my bones. And I know you can feel it, too, uncomfortable under your skin. Scratching its way to the surface.

Let it out. Who knows the heat to which it will blaze.

 

Prayer:

Lord, You have placed a specific passion and desire within me. You have created it to be of good use, to proclaim Your splendor. Though I am timid and feel unworthy of such a gift, it is mine all the same and You want me to be bold and brave and breathlessly take hold of it. Please give me strength to take up such a task, and let me lean on You to set this side of me on fire. Amen..

 

You Have Promised

Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what He had promised.

-Romans 4:20-21

 

            How can I doubt that You are watching over me, taking extra care in my discomfort and sheltering me in Your solid, stoic arms?

            Am I that consumed with myself that I see the surface and all that swims around me and think that You have left me to fend for myself, bobbing in the deep and deliriously unaware of my surroundings?

            You have provided so much for me in so many ways, so many tiny details each and every hour I cannot contain the numbers of each miniscule miracle. I play the victim in the Woe is Me one act performance, providing excuse after excuse for why I keep myself chained in confusion. Why I cannot claim to clear my conscious when deep within, I know with all certainty, that You are prodding me, chipping away at the scales that have rusted to my skin. You have my purpose resting in Your palms, and You are quietly calling me to reach to You and take what You are promising.

            I have been selfish and shallow, wallowing in self-inflicted self pity, crying out to You to help bring me from the dungeon of doubt that has locked me in. Yes, I have been tested, my walls breached. But if I would lift the shield of faith high above me, I can ward off the arrows that swiftly fly towards my soul. With Your Spirit of truth, I can trust that You are all You say You are, and that You have never left me, nor will You ever forsake me. You have Your righteous hand upon me, watching me, guiding me, and the things I think are tragic will turn to triumph for Your glory.

            How dare I delve into the abyss and think You just a figure on my shoulder, a charm around my neck. You are beyond this world, You’ve brought galaxies to life and expelled evil from Your sight. How can I forget the fire You’ve set within my heart?

            Forgive me for my frail faith, for not honoring You as I should and for my brittle belief. You are all You say You are, and only by Your power can I exist at all. Persuade me to pay closer attention to You, to pay closer attention to Your details in my day. Help me reconstruct my walls of wisdom and regain my fortress in Your foresight. Deliver me once again into Your corner. Let me remember that my battles are Yours to fight, and that You have the power to do all that You have promised with me.

 

Prayer:

Father, I have been weak in my belief and floating around my own little world of worry. Have You not provided for me all along? Haven’t You always kept me under Your wings and given me all I’ve needed, always when I need it? Please forgive me of my fickle faith, and strengthen my trust that You continue to fight my struggles for me. Amen.

Enough for You

Turn to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is no other.

-Isaiah 45:22

 

I wish I could be enough for you.

            I wish I could be the light that guides your face into a limitless wonder, and the gleam in your heart that pulls you towards a beautiful settling over your soul.

            I wish you’d taste the breeze that swims through the air to touch your lips, and that the connection would be delightful.

            I wish your eyes wouldn’t wander to every crooked corner, to draw closer to the sullen shadows wanting to whisper that you aren’t worth much. I wish you wouldn’t feel so alone. I wish your isolation wouldn’t drive you insane, where you begin to make up thin excuses of why you’re never smart enough, pretty enough, talented enough… just never quite enough.

I wish you wouldn’t believe all the lies. I wish that you could hear the way I talk about you, the way I look at you and see how wonderful you are. I wish you could feel the longing I have for you, and how I am not complete until I am all that you think about, breathe for, turn your troubles over to and smile at My presence. I wish you wouldn’t look anywhere else. I wish you would stay right here with Me.

I wish you could see how much you need me. And how close I am to reach.

 

Prayer:

Father, I need You. I need Your presence with an urgency I’ve never known. I want so badly to be cared for, to be enough. You promise that You can be my refuge, my Strong Tower. Please show me. Please let me see that You, and only You, are enough. Amen.

Future Hope

There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.

-Proverbs 23:18

Happy Birthday, Freddy!

 

Today is the day God brought you to life, welcomed you into this world and all of Heaven rejoiced. He crafted the chocolate hue of your hair, the deep, bright brown of your eyes and the light in your smile. He placed you in a small town full of lush green grass and trees, a family with parents who love you and dream of all you will become, and a brother and sister who make you smile. He surrounded you with the singing birds you love to draw, a happy home and lots and lots of red, your favorite color. There is no one else like you; no one else to live, love and laugh like you.

            He called you to His side, to cradle you and protect you, and to show you how deep His love extends.  He shares in your joys, in the innocent beating of your heart, and how you help at home each day and make your parents proud. You are a thousand suns in His sky, and every morning when you lift up your eyes and search the clouds for shapes of dogs and soccer balls, He stares right back at you, saying, “Good morning, my child. I am overflowing with happiness to share My day with you.”

            God loves you, Freddy. More than you will ever know. And the greatest part of His love is how generous He is. Because He has shared you with me, has brought you into my life to see the simplistic side of life and just how easy it is to admire the beauty around me. You have given me more joy than I can say, and when I receive your letters, I hold them gently in my hands like the treasures they are. With the rustle of the page, I learn more about you, the things that make you happy and the tender care with which you pray for me. Dear child, if only you knew the hopes of my heart for you, and the fervor and delight with which I also pray for you.

            For seven years you have skipped along this earth, and by your presence this world is given a tremendous gift. It humbles me to think about our souls inhabiting the same atmosphere, and it has been my absolute honor and privilege to pray for and hear about your growth and laughter for almost two years. I am thinking of you and praying for a perfect day full of faith and fun and more excitement your giant heart can hold in that tiny body.

May God richly bless you on this special day. May He watch over you and guide you, and may your face be radiant with the wonder of the world, and the pull of your precious heart reaching out inside you. I love you, and I hope you can feel my hug from thousands of miles away. I know I can, because God has linked us together, and whatever He has bonded, no man can tear apart. He has a bright and brilliant plan for you, and a hope that will never dim. I eagerly watch to see where your future stretches to, and all that God will do in, through, and with you.

Smile. Your soul rests in God’s favor and resonates through my heart.

Prayer:

Jesus, hold Freddy in Your sweet arms on his birthday. Let him know he is loved, and that he is the biggest blessing in my life. Watch over him as he grows, let him come to place his life in Your hands. Love him for me today, and let his heart be happy. Amen.

 

 

 

If you are interested in learning how to become involved in the life of a child like Freddy, please visit www.compassion.com or email me. It would make a world of a difference to that child. And to you.

One Who Sees

She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.”
-Genesis 16:13

 

This is for you, the girl sitting two tables from me in the back of an old coffee house.

 

This is for the way you rushed in here with a mission, plopped your backpack onto the bench and paraded to the counter.  For the way you spread out your books across the tiny space of table top and quickly opened to the marked page of a worn paperback, where you finished the novel’s last pages before the barista called out your order. For the way you rose, got what you needed, and made your way back to your fortress, where another page soon opened you to another world.

            This is for the beautiful folds of your floral summer dress, covered with a knit white sweater, cheery against the wooly, frowning clouds hanging lowly in the sky. For your iced strawberry mocha topped with whipped cream and a slice of egg quiche on a blue rimmed plate, for the way you slide a piece onto your fork and lift it without looking to your mouth. How you don’t look because you are so engrossed in the novel spread out before you on the table you can’t look at anything but the lines and lessons trickling into your magnetic mind.

            This is for the hopes I feel radiating from your heart, the passion you spill forth from the simple pleasure of sweets and stories. This is where I sense that the reality of your troubles- the quietness of your day at school and the fear of talking to that gentle boy who sits by you in English- fall away and you are safe in literary arms. You’re away from the petty girls with their frivolous fancies and the feeling of never quite fitting in. Away from the pressures of performance and the worry of where to place your faith. This is for simply being, in your moment, in your fantasy, in your heart that yearns for truth and love and acceptance.

            You are so lovely, with your summer sandals and your straight hair the warm color of cinnamon, the shy smile as you wake back into this afternoon, to the bright flowers perched outside the window and the girl who looks a lot like you two tables over, because she sees herself in your hands, how they delicately cradle that story, and the squeeze that shakes her heart when she thinks of what she loves.

            I pray you feel the love of God, how He watches you sip your drink and scan word after word and piece them together. How He, too, feels your passion within, and how He craves your company.

             You are precious, dear girl. You may be unaware of how glorious you are, but my heartfelt hope is that today, somewhere in the softness of your soul, you feel a stirring that can cast your dreams farther than your favorite fable, and sense the calling of the One who called you to existence, and who is captivated by your every movement.

            Because every movement you make is marked by His blood, which is the greatest romance you will ever have the privilege to not only read, but to live.

            So live. Live well. Live loved. And keep those passions perched inside your heart. And, once they find courage in His care, let them soar.

 

Prayer:

Lord, you watch over Your children and see them through Your crimson shaded eyes. Let me see Your people as You do, and to pray for their spirit to unfold to Your gentle prodding. And be with this girl, wherever she is and with all that she longs for. Amen.

We Remember

I remember the days of long ago;

I meditate on all Your works

and consider what Your hands have done.

-Psalm 143:5

 

We remember the blast of breath You released into vast darkness and turned into galaxies, stars, sun and earth. The tender care You took to dig deep the waters and form the forests and the gleam in Your eyes at Your masterpiece- man from dry, lifeless drips of dust and woman from the most tender piece of flesh.

We remember the disappointment in Your heart when we fell, when our disobedience seared Your soul and how we hid, and yet You sought us out.

We remember the roll of Your voice in a burning bush, arms of the Red Sea stretching back to send a path to safety, manna falling like shooting stars to fill stomachs and hope, walls of Jericho crumbling to a victorious heap at heralding trumpets.

We remember Your power in the crashing roll of thunder, Your glory in the white hot light that streaks across the sky. We remember how gentle You are with each petal You place on fragrant flowers.

We remember Your covenant, passed down from prayerful heart to prayerful heart, how You promised to be with Your people, and to walk beside them always.

 

We remember Your grace and our gore, how corroded and corrupted we became with sin, and how You couldn’t stand to see us stretch so far from You.

We remember that silent night in a stable, where Your Son slipped into the world, pure and precious, poised to trek the long trail placed before Him.

We remember the miracles, the wonders and the teaching, the caring gaze, healing touch and heart that reached down to the deepest hurt. 

We remember the false accusations, the screaming crowds and His quiet strength, speaking only when You moved through His voice.

We remember the verdict. The cross. The day You turned Your face from Him and took our punishment from His shoulders.  

We remember an empty tomb, a risen King, the vast canyon between us bridged. Your mercy drenched us, cleansed us, washed us in the crimson of Christ.

We remember how You couldn’t leave us, so You drew us closer than we could imagine, to wipe the tears from our eyes and set smiles on our lips.

 

We remember the joy at feeling Your presence, the warmth of Your love and the laughter echoing through Heaven’s hallways.

We remember Your Spirit, flaming through us. We remember Your oath to make us heirs, make us Your children.

We remember Your devotion. We remember YOU.

 

Prayer:

Father God, thank You that You have lifted us to the heights of Your heart and set us at Your right hand. Throughout history and generations, we remember Your mercies, we remember Your wonders, we remember Your sacrifice that set us right in Your eyes. You have set me apart to live in Your generosity. Thank You for the chance to remember, and rely on, You. Amen.

Me and You

But you must return to your God; maintain love and justice, and wait for your God always.
-Hosea 12:6

 

            I want when it was just me and You.

 

            When the sun rose and fell in Your eyes, where every wildflower was planted by Your hand for my bouquet. I miss when Your voice whispered through the wind, tickled my heart and captured my soul. When my smile sparkled and shone like a thousand stars because You were pleased with me.

            I want our walks again, when light streaked through the trees above me and the forest road went on for hours, went on for seasons. With You I was happy. Pure joy jumped through my veins and saturated my soul. All I wanted was to find favor in Your gaze. Everything I did, I did for You, and with Your hand held in mine. I miss the carefree laughter and the comfort of Your kiss in early evening’s fire glow.

            It isn’t You who has stepped away; I’m the one to blame. And now, away from Your warmth and beginning to shiver in my loneliness, I realize how deep I truly crave You, how desperate is my love. I want to throw off all the distractions that have tied themselves to me and leave them on the ground. I want to run and throw myself into Your arms and feel Your strength, taste Your sweetness.

            I don’t ever want to leave Your side. You’ve never left mine, even when I deserved to be deserted. Let’s weave our way through sunsets once again, let my lips sing Your goodness and my heart hold tightly onto You. Let’s be something special together, me and You.

Prayer:

My Lord and my Love, there is a piece of me missing and it is my devotion to You. Pull me back as I press on towards Your care and peace. I am a better person when I’m with You. Amen.

Never Been Eloquent

Moses said to the Lord, “Oh Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since You have spoken to Your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue."
-Exodus 4:10

 

            I am timid. I am tiny. I am not big enough to make a dent in this massive, cosmic universe.

            I am ordinary. I am nothing special and I have no charm to entertain for hours or a flash of brilliance to liken my mind to those of the greats before me. I have no talent to capture an audience, nor do I have the conversation skills to liven up a room. I have more bills than bonuses, my feet are a little too long and if something is really funny my laugh explodes into more of a donkey’s bray than a breathless giggle. In the stands of life, I am the one sitting on the corner bleacher, silently waving my banner and hoping to not be discovered for the halftime speech. I am so used to the shadows I would pale and squirm if subjected to light. When I speak, words slip and filter through my teeth in all the wrong directions. I am not eloquent in speech or stature; the world around me always revolves out of my element.

            I am mere. I am mortal. It’s hard to consider myself of any significance when there are so many people surrounding me with infinitely MORE- beauty, brains, charm, faith. I shuffle my shoes when I walk down the street and can’t keep my hands away from anything chocolate. When the opportunity arises to stand for You, I cower and keep quiet. How can I dare to dream to make a difference?

            For some strange reason, You have not called me to mediocrity. You have set me apart and fashioned me to fit a role You personally picked out. And because it comes from You in all Your glory and discernment, it’s beyond what the biggest heart could ever hope to hold. You entrust to me Your children, to sweeten them with a smile and listen, really listen, to their words, to cut beneath the surface and hear the struggles in their core. You give Yourself to me in the buttery sun and milky night, to bid me good morning and sweet sleep in the evening. When I am weak, You are strong. When I am fearful, You build up my trust in Your protection. When I cannot bring my gaze to stretch across the mirror, You coax me to set my sight a little higher.

            When I look at myself, I see a sloppy girl who has even less control over her life than she does of her hair. I am not fit to work the field for Your harvest.

But Your eyes are clear, Your focus, certain. You see something else. You see my heart embraced by Yours, and that alone is enough to make me magnificent.

 

Prayer:

Lord, I am a walking whirlwind. I am quiet, I am shy and timid. I am not enough to make an impact. But You see further into my soul than I can, and I’m counting on You to keep a place within my heart. Help me to see myself the way You see me, and help me discern where You want me to go for You, who You want me to speak to and love. I can do all things because You give me strength. Amen.

Missed You

I call to you, Lord, come quickly to me; hear me when I call to You.
-Psalm 141:1

 

I’ve missed you.

           

            Missed the way your smile lit the morning, missed the way I’d send the wind to swirl through your hair. I’ve missed your marveling eyes and your sweet honeysuckle laugh.

            I’ve missed the way you’d lean on Me, resting your head upon My shoulder and trusting that I had you protected. Missed our walks up hills and through fields fresh with flowers, when you’d lift your face to the sky and tell Me you’d never leave Me.

            I’ve missed hearing about your dreams and the simple pleasures that made your day. I’ve missed watching sunsets and catching fireflies in the early evening twilight, and holding you in the vanilla hours of night, where your heart shook and tears warmed your face.

            I’ve missed you calling out My name.

            My heart just hasn’t been the same since you slipped away from Me. You seemed to forget that together, we could do great things. We could do the impossible. You wanted to try it on your own, and now you’re down and drained in spirit. My love, can you come back to Me? You need me as much as I desire you, and I feel your heart searching for Mine.

            Beloved, I am here. Waiting. Come quickly to Me. I am watching for the light to lift you up again, because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, the degree to which you can glow.

 

Prayer:

Father, I have run around and around and tried to live my life as I think I should. I have forgotten that You want my attention, but most importantly, You want my heart. Bring me back to You, for I have missed Your presence and comfort, and I am humbled that You miss my affection as well. Amen.

Hear My Cry

But when I was silent and still,

not even saying anything good,

my anguish increased.

-Psalm 39:2

How worn to the ground

must I become before

You hear my cry?

My bones are dust

and scatter in the wind.

Sleep eludes me;

I close my eyes

yet my heart races.

I am a fire that

cannot be calmed,

a thirst that

cannot be quenched.

I pace as a tiger

on the hunt.

I have nothing left.

I crumble in bits and pieces

at Your feet.

This is not enough.

Release me from

Your silence.

Fire Up

I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other!

-Revelation 3:15

Better to hurt than to feel numb. Better to feel your heart about to explode in your chest than to count the slow beats appear and fade and appear again.

            Better to breathe than to hold the stale air you inhale inside your rusting lungs. Better to love or hate than to experience neutral feeling. Because God wants you hot or cold, not somewhere in between. He wants you on fire, but if you’re ice cold, He’d prefer it over lukewarm. Because your heart is engaged one way or another, and if you forget to feel, you forget to live.

            You are breathing, but just barely. Living in a world of gray, veil of mist entwining your mind and unsure where you are headed, what you are feeling. If you could hurt, oh, how you’d let yourself bleed. But when you jab your skin, you are impenetrable. Nothing coming in, nothing going out. You read your Bible but can get nothing from the pages so it eventually stays on your dresser, because you are afraid to be dismayed at your lack of understanding.

            Something should be setting you on fire. Instead, you play around in the ashes. You scoop up a handful and watch your fingers stain.  There is nowhere to wash away their touch that dries your soul. How can you keep trying to feel and hear and see when your eyes and heart are draped in a dull simmer that unenthusiastically fans itself out?

            Better to be burned than to let yourself sit in this barren land, but you’ve cried out for rescue and were met with silence. Questions unanswered, hope unfulfilled. When you rise in the morning, a tiny wisp of your spirit calls for something special. Something extraordinary. But as quickly as it comes, it is covered by a damp blanket of doubt, heavy on your chest.

            Fight. Keep fighting. Keep praying, keep seeking, keep crying out into the dark. Pray for that flame. That it will ignite deep in the quiet caverns of your spirit, so one day the warm river of God will come rushing through you, sweeping you up in a flood of feeling and you will at last know how His love can capsize and toss you overboard into an ocean of unquenchable desperation.

            Better to crave His presence than to sit and watch Him pass with a blank, empty stare upon your face, etched in your heart.

Prayer:

Lord, I feel nothing. I am dull, I am lukewarm and I can’t seem to shake this feeling of nothingness. Please revive me, please show me that You haven’t left me alone, that my search for something, for YOU, is not a lost cause. Heal me with hope. Amen.

Send Me

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”

And I said, “Here I am. Send me!”

-Isaiah 6:8

My hands hover

halfway in the air,

swelling the blood in my limbs.

I have attempted to sort through

signals and sounds scratching

in my head, crowding my conscious.

I have said I want Your will,

want to do Your will,

but on whose terms?

I claim to taste Your calling,

but I am warm in my bed

without a reason to release

myself from the comfort

wrapped over me.

You say to deny ourselves,

and I admit I cannot deny

this pulsing inside me,

steady, picking up speed.

You move in me,

twisting open doors

I’ve bolted in place.

For they are not my chambers

but Yours.

When You speak I want to listen.

Where You point I will follow.

My heart is hooked to the

back of Your caravan.

Here am I.

Send me.

Prayer:

Father, You have called me to do Your work. I am eager, but need Your strength to move forward. Yet here I stand, ready and willing. Send me. Work through me. Amen.

Empty and Alive

The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.

-Luke 24:7

When things are empty, it’s usually not a good sign.

            An empty wallet signifies a lack of money, hardest when bills pile up and income wobbles.

            An empty glass means you’re out of your favorite beverage, or out of a positive outlook.

            An empty brain signals no one’s home upstairs. Usually not good in a school setting.

            An empty room- void of warmth and activity.

            An empty promise is a hard burden to bear.

            An empty heart cries out from the depth of its echo, longing for another soul to smile and let them know they are not alone.

           

            But an empty tomb… now that is a very good thing.

            A beautiful sign.

            A refreshment to our souls.

            Because an empty tomb means a risen King! Because the stones scraped together could not contain the power and the glory of the One whom was placed behind the boulder three days previous. When the tomb was opened and no one lay inside, a light pierced the hearts of those who turned and saw the Savior standing before them, with a beating heart and mankind’s hope fulfilled.

            A chamber cleansed of death. A new arrival that lifted us to life. A symbol of sadness turned to joy. A bare room, empty and alive. The Son of God, full of flesh. Vibrant. Victorious.

           

            An empty tomb took us to a place of astonishment, as the impossible turned possible before our eyes and the breath in our hearts cried out, “Hallelujah! He is risen!”

            He is risen, indeed!

Prayer:

You conquered death and the wrath of God for my sake. Not simply for the whole of the earth, but for ME, the tiny one who stumbles and shakes with fear. You have made me victorious through Your scars, so I may stand cleansed in front of the Father. Because of Your triumph, I am Yours. Thank You for this new and enchanting, eternal life! Amen.

His Breath

It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.” When He had said this, He breathed his last.

-Luke 23:44-46

Can you feel it?

            The ragged, raspy breath on your face?

Filled with pain, pure and purposeful. Exhaling the few and fragrant puffs of air inside His chest. He uses them to shift His weight between the nails, to cry out to the Father, wondering why He is left with silence. He pants and squeezes each bit of Himself into groans that stifle and shout through His body. His spirit is restless, longing to go home yet preparing for the road still to come. In moments, His soul will be released into His Father’s hands, and He will once again begin to fight.

            But the bittersweet breath of this dying deity releases another anthem. Through His struggles to stay upright between the wooden beams, blood-splashed lips rasp out a name.

            Your name.

            He repeats His response, one word speaking for a lifetime.

            Your face is before His bleary eyes. Your laugh bounces through his busted ears. As darkness folds into the sky, as the earth moans and shifts between its heavy weight, He is thinking of you, and the crooked, colorful pieces that compromise your beating heart.

            Your guilt that builds inside you, molding and murky. He wipes it away.

            Your shame in the secret spaces, where you don’t dare look Him in the face to see His disappointment- He paints a coat of white upon it.

            Your condemnation, covered in crimson.

            He remembers your smile as the sun bleeds black. He harbors your hurt and locks it between his ribcage. Your debt is ransomed in His demise.

            One last breath. One last gust of grace, draped upon the weeping wind and pulled across the sands, the waters, the years and miles and generations, gathering strength as His soul slips into eternity. His body sinks into the blade of a badgering soldier, but His heart, His hope, gathers new life as tenderness trickles down His face, drying upon the warm whisper of your name that gently lifts to your trembling, tentative, incredulous belief.

Prayer:

You were pierced and prodded and strung upon a cross for me and all the black filth of my life. You knew You would take the blows for me, and You willingly accepted Your fate. You broke for me. Your spirit shook the heavens and earth, and Your groans called out my name. You saved me from myself, from a lifetime apart from You. Let me remember. Let me call upon Your blood-stained name and receive everlasting joy and peace and grace with You. Amen.

Awakened

Do not neglect your gift, which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you.

-1Timothy 4:14

            We are all meant to be.

            Someone.

            Something.

            A flash of light through thick, syrupy darkness.

            We have been fastened together by dreams and shapes and symphonies, formed in the secret spaces of the deep. Intentionally. With fervor.

We are silhouettes made of stardust, given faces and smiles sewn on our porcelain skin. In the moon-speckled night, our deepest longings were whispered delicately into our ear. While we slept, we soared.

And then, slowly, with sensation sweeping from our eyelids, we awoke. To colors drying and chipping from the sky. With our faces, our lineage, our stories, muffled against the exhaust of nameless fumes, toxic and telling us to move along. They invaded our invincibility, our homes that hooked us to our cotton clouds and pulled the string. We slipped and stumbled to the ground, no longer aware of the way we floated. Instead, the sharp realization of reality jabbed us in the jaw, and then we knew how much the fall would hurt once our brittle bones hit the earth.  Huddled around us, voices hissed, full of doubt and fear and cruelty. The voices grappled for the shine in our eyes, tender from the blistering light that led us for so long. They took the glow and hid them in shadows, where we could only hear the faintest whimpers as they wailed at our separation.

We were tried and tested, bruised but never fully bleeding. This new world sneered at the likes of us, the dreamers who had dared to believe we were made for more. So they kept us cowering, crossed up in lies that we don’t deserve delight. That we cannot claim a life of our own.

Yet.

A seed, small, insignificant to the outside eye, has been planted.

Many years ago.

Many miles from this world.

And it has grown, quietly, in the concrete corners of our heart.

There is something inside of us that cannot stay hidden, cannot stay sleeping. It is dangerous, it is explosive, it is the greatest instrument we can possess. And with it comes the living rush of wind that sets our sails to travel the sky. To once and for all search the sands and find the perfect space to insert our own shell, unique and exquisite in a sunrise’s surprise.

This is the time.

We are formed from the hands of mercy, of beauty, of light and love. These hands that formed the heavens, formed us. And within our private precincts, they placed a voice, a vision, a task entirely our own and utterly under our command.

We are to set fire to the fabric of our beings. We are to answer this call abundantly and unabashedly. And we are to savor each second the sunlight sweeps over our face.

Because in our breath, we taste our Creator. In our skills, we see our Mentor. And in our depth and width and luster of this fading world’s wonder, we see Him who lifted us from the cradle of conformity and set us high upon the hill of hope, His light bathing us in such a glory all who look upon us burst forth in choruses of admiration.

            How they shine, their reactions echo. How they radiate with the touch of His approval.

            All other voices are silenced.

Prayer:

Lord, I am meant to be more than I am making of myself. I have talents, I have gifts, I have abilities and determination that You have put inside me. I have roles that only I can fill, and to let them sit and fade each day is wasting what You have given me. Allow me to recognize You want to use me, want me to bring You glory in every tiny and tremendous way I can. Let Your light shine, let Your hand guide me. Thank You for allowing me to be more, for Your intricate and beautiful purposes. Amen.