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.