Cloudy

So do not fear, for I am with you;
Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you, surely I will help you;
Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.
-Isaiah 41:10


Why is it that when a cloud of uncertainty passes over us, it attaches to our heart and will not move out of the way for the clarity striving to be revealed?

It lingers, mockingly, enjoying our discomfort at trying to decipher its appearance. It laughs when we shield ourselves from its onslaught but cannot fully block its advances. And the more we attempt to untangle ourselves from its spidery arms, the more we become ensnared. It is relentless and spins our heads into such disarray we wonder for days after what came out of the storm we feebly tried to weather.

We think a thousand thoughts at the reasons we are tested, and the closer we try to get to the big picture, the less we truly see and understand. It’s like our life is one big maze, and we are the guinea pig curving around corners in search of blue skies and fresh air that will greet us as we finally make our way to the exit. In all the searching, never once did we expect to encounter a row of dead ends.

Somewhere there is an answer. Somewhere, sunshine and smiles. And somewhere, Someone is holding all we want to know. Is holding all we’ll ever need.

We may never find the exact clarity we’re looking for. We may never fully understand why we went through all we did. And that’s ok. Because we don’t need to know. At this point in life, we just need to acknowledge that the confusion will pass, there will be adventures at the next turn, and we are closer to our prize and comfort than we may imagine. And when the haze is lifted, we will realize that we were never once left alone in the abyss.


Prayer:
Father, I thank You that through all my uncertainty, all my questions and confusion, that You have been with me, right by my side. You know how my head and heart spin, yet You steady them with Your soothing hand. Please continue to hold me close, and walk with me as I try to navigate this cloudy maze, because I absolutely cannot even try to go at it without You. Amen.

Twisting Hearts

Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.
-James 5:16



When we hurt, there is no greater pain than the twisting of our hearts. That constant heaviness sitting on our soul. We crumble. We shatter. We are swallowed in a darkness that hammers at our heads.

It is difficult to understand. Almost impossible to bear. We cannot, do not, want to face it alone.

And it is in this time of complete misery and suffering that words disappear, and our only communication comes through a river of tears and a silence that speaks more profoundly than any other form of speech. We did not know how fast we could fall.

Brokenness. An aching hole in our chest. The more we know, the less we really understand. Why things happen as they do. Why our hearts get mangled. Why we feel completely helpless.

There is no fast road to recovery. There is no slow road, either. We seem to move backwards and questions keep piling up. Overwhelmed is minor in comparison. We are anchored in place with no wind in our sails. And when we seek direction, we are met with a deafening unknown.

We can do nothing else but throw ourselves into the trust, that gut wrenching, self-denial devotion that God IS in control. That He is with us, in this, even when He feels a thousand miles away. It is hard, it is unbelievable, but we must know that He is here, and that when every shred of our heart is sliced and scattered through our body, we take great pains in uttering two words from the depths of our soul:

Jesus. Healing.

Pray for one another. When we are shattered, the earth stands still and we are left on our knees in the debris of our disappointment. But when we rise, however long it may take, He is there, holding out His arms to lift us up and sweep away our ashes.


Prayer:
Father, I have no words to speak. I am broken. I am helpless. And so hurting. For myself, but for others involved. Please, Lord. Healing. Healing in so many ways, in all that I have not spoken. Jesus, I am calling on You to help and heal, to open up eyes and hearts in understanding. Remove me from the wreckage and into Your comfort and healing embrace. Amen.

Holding Something

And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.
-Romans 5:5



I am holding something in my heart.

A feeling. It is unidentifiable. It is deep. Buried, covered in earth hundreds of miles beneath my surface.

Sometimes I can feel it breathing. Feel its slight rise and fall as it inhales my life and exhales Yours. Like each space between the silence is filtered from me, from my selfish, sinful flesh, and squeezed through a needle of new awakening, to be filled with Your soul, Your desire.

Faint is the song lifting in the breeze. A soft echo, sweeping the sky inside me, drawing out the day. From black to blue, a powdered perfection infiltrating my existence. I am drawn to the light. I am reaching for that shooting star.

I protect myself to feel no pain. I see what I want, say what I need. I am foolish when I play my words back to me. And when I slow down the sentences, You are the white noise speaking in symbols to my soul. Your voice, its softness, its certainty, strikes me and hooks to my heart, and there it hangs, swaying gracefully above the gaps of life. Never wavering, never losing its grip.

Can I touch it, just this once? Can I reach my trembling hand inside my very being, the raw pounding of my chest, and brush my fingertips across the pumping presence of Your wonder? If I let myself in, break through to that practically unperceivable hope holding me together, where will it take me? Where do I want it to go? Where do You want it to go?

All I am is shape and silence. I am the snow forming in winter’s midnight. You are the ground to which I fall. In between the blankets of belief, You whisper in my head, trail Your design down my spine and slip into my soul. I never knew I could shiver with such restrain. You coax me, gently, imploringly, to lose myself in this feeling. This feeling of all things good. Because to know this greatness, this burst of unimaginable imagination, is to know You. To know that You take a stone and shape it into starlight. To know Your eyes see the color of my core and weave a rainbow in my being. From this serpent, You create a seraphim.

I have wings. They shine. They lift my heart into my hands and dance me to Your music. I am sorting out this freedom You have untied within me. I am taking hold of this feeling, transparent in my veins. Guiding me to a blushing horizon, encouraging me to dream. Dream in me, dream in You. Dream in all things bright.

My heart is beating. It is begging to unfold from the gray reign I’ve kept it subject to. Take it. Release it to the ribbon-sewn sweetness of Your promise, which longs to give me abundantly more than my hopeful heart has ever conceived.



Prayer:
Dear One, I have been sleeping for too long. I have been afraid to hope for anything good, anything beautiful. But to doubt its existence is to doubt You, for You are all things beautiful and good. I am going to dare to dream, I am going to set my heart out on a limb. Because I trust that You have me protected, You have me by Your side, and that You want to exceed anything I’ve experienced. You are joy. You are a gift. You long to gift me with Your presence. Fill me up, Lord. Let me see You in every great gust of wind You sweep across my face. Let me feel Your goodness, feel Your wonder. Amen.

Take Refuge

I long to dwell in Your tent forever
and take refuge in the shelter
of Your wings.
-Psalms 61:4


There was a place I’d go
when I was small,
deep in the woods,
deep in my dreams.
The rain fell down,
I ducked inside the trees
that hid me from the world.

You’d patch my hopes
with shades of green,
when light poured through
our fort of leaves.
I used to laugh,
so pure, so free,
and all the life
within my lungs
slipped sweetly through
Your beams.

My eyes flew wide awake
in the middle of the day,
I was so sheltered
in the words that You would say.
Take me to the top of branches
filled with song,
melodies the trees whispered
and You and I would sing along.

Autumn’s bitter browns
decayed and turned to rust,
brought sparks of fire,
floods of rain,
a hundred weeks of wonder
spilled and spinning to the ground.
As moons passed by,
years lined my brow,
the color in my veins,
once bold,
lay bleaching in Your palms.

My eyes flew wide awake
in the middle of the day,
I was so sheltered
in the words that You would say.
Take me to the top of branches
filled with song,
melodies the trees whispered
and You and I would sing along.

Take me back
to where we danced,
a swirling love,
bright in my hands.



Prayer:
Father, please shelter me in the loving arms I ran to when I was young. Sweep me in Your sweetness, in Your comfort and strength. Tuck me into You, soothe me with Your unshakable promises when the world around me shivers. Rest with me, sing to me, let me feel bright brilliance once again. Amen.

Firstborn

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son.
-Luke 2:6-7



Firstborn holds a lot of responsibility.

He is the one who leads the way. A trailblazer. Icebreaker. He sets the bar for those who come after, and is who younger ones look up to.

The road is unclear. There are no maps that direct which way to turn, where to go, when to get there. So the firstborn must forge a trail previously never stepped upon. And when the path proves a bit overgrown, He looks to His Father to show the way.

From the firstborn many appear. Bloodlines thicken, populations multiply. When you see one, others are sure to follow.

The firstborn is strong. He must hold his own and take on the world that is so unknown to eyes that see land and life for the first time through flesh. He is resilient. If something doesn’t turn out the way it should, He continues on to make it right.

He is caring, gentle, patient and kind. He looks after those in His care. When they hurt, He bleeds, too. When they smile, His heart rejoices. He encourages the downcast and propels them to a sky of dreams. He will make even the most stubborn of hearts crave His approval.

Love lives inside Him. Light spills from His eyes. His touch soothes. He knows His destiny, and steps towards it with determination. And from afar, His Father watches, waiting until the day He returns home, task completed, and has set the world in motion. In His Son, this firstborn, this selfless servant, the Father is well pleased.

And what pleases the Son, the right and true firstborn? Knowing the lives He’s cared for are well secured and safe.


Prayer:
Lord Jesus, You came into a cold, cruel world to mark a life of love, to set an example we are to follow. You were the firstborn, in every sense of the word. In life, in sacrifice, and for caring about my heart. You are the reason for the season of reflection. May I walk in Your steps and blaze like You. Amen.

Not About Me

Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call Him Immanuel.
-Isaiah 7:14


Christmas is a giving time. It is the season of selflessness, the joy of an undeserved but eternal gift. The month of miracles.

So why am I being so selfish? Why do I take it as I see around me- brown, dull, looming skies, and not for the feeling that once stirred so much inside me? Why do I look for a sign to see that this season is going my way? It’s as if I have this cookie cutter idea of what I expect the holiday to be, and the actual event is a fraction of an inch different than my expectations, I moan and marvel at how it just doesn’t seem like the way I knew before.

If I step back and assess my actions, it appears I am trying to make the season about me. It’s different for me this year, for various reasons. My schedule’s changed; it doesn’t allow time for gifts or greetings or even, dare I admit it, reflection on the origin of the celebration in the first place. I may have even reshaped my heart a bit, whether conscious of it or not. Somehow, in my twisted, self-absorbed brain, I’ve made it about what I can get from the hustle and bustle. How did I get my worship so warped?

I don’t have snow? It’s likely the first family of faith wasn’t greeted with flurries, either. But a storm stirred inside the manger that night, anyway. The storm of our salvation.

I don’t have time to take a breath? I doubt Mary did through all the months she carried our Savior, past the stares and jeers and endless travel on a donkey as she longed for a place of rest yet not to find it in a foreign land.

I have preconceived notions of the holiday? The first Christmas had no agenda or structure, other than a newborn to sleep quietly and build His soul’s strength before starting the quest to conquer death.

A star appeared. The angels sang. Wisemen journeyed across countries by camel. There’s the sign- God’s divine destiny. It all happened. As planned, according to the Father’s design, smoothly and without worry. And it was the best CHRISTmas ever.

Perhaps I have been too occupied with my to-do list rather than my to-Who list. After all, we wouldn’t even have a holiday to humble ourselves before had it not been for that silent night many years ago.

It’s time for me to slow down. Time for me to reflect and repent, and to fall at the tiny feet of Him who gave me the greatest, most freeing gift of all. The gift that granted me the right to celebrate life- His life, my life, our life- in the first place.


Prayer:
Sweet Jesus, how quickly I forget what Christmas is all about. How easily I get distracted and think the world’s turned upside down if the season doesn’t go as I planned. Help me remember why I am here amongst the twinkling lights, why I kneel at the small bed of my Savior. Amen.

A Simple Obedience

When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him.
-Matthew 1:24


It came in a dream.

An order. In the middle of the night, in the middle of a deep and stirring sleep, from a heavenly herald.

To a laborer, who lived by the harvest of his hands. Who studied for years in the craft of carpentry and built sycamore chairs and sanded stables. Who earned just enough to get by and worked diligently to provide for the young girl he pledged to marry.

Joseph was favored in his town, looked upon as a good and honest man. Everything lined up in a row for this tradesman. Everything looked to continue as planned.

Then, an announcement. A whisper from the lips of his betrothed. Gabriel’s appearance. Late night cravings. The swelling of her stomach.

He, being a decent, honorable man, determined to make things right, to do the decent thing so as not to shame her. He weighed the options, probed his possibilities and prepared to divorce her as quickly and quietly as possible. She would not be bothered, they would not be disgracing one another. A simple solution.

That night after his decision, as he lay down upon his straw mattress, Joseph prayed to the God of his fathers. For strength, for guidance, for His will to be shown. When he finished, he slipped into his blanket and drifted into the world behind his eyes.

A voice rang through the silence. Someone called to him. Knew him by name. Joseph, son of David. His lineage, leaked into his subconscious. And a light that filled the span of his mind’s space. Brilliant. Determined.

Joseph tossed between the sheets, terrified. But the messenger’s next words stilled his shaking heart. “Do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”

Do not be afraid. The Lord’s angel mentioned Mary by name, too! And the peace that flooded through him told of truth, that the little one inside her belly was indeed inserted by the Spirit.

Take her home as your wife. God was not calling him to let her go. He was calling him to hold on tightly, to walk with her and shelter her and stand beside her, amidst the people’s stares. And how they would stare, no doubt. But Joseph was a man of courage. Beneath his humble demeanor was a thick skinned warrior who served the Lord no matter the cost, no matter the instruction. If he was called to love this girl and father the incoming Messiah, then he would embrace this direction with dedication.

As the angel faded from his dream, the morning sun filled the corners of his room. Joseph roused, blinked in the new day and set out to obey the angel of the Lord’s command. He found Mary, bid their families farewell and set out for Bethlehem. And when the arrival of a Son appeared, he smiled at the King in his arms and loved as he never had before.

A dream. A calling. A simple man with a simple obedience. No fear. No question. Just trust and acceptance.

It takes great faith to hear the Lord and act upon His direction. Even when it means denying yourself comfort and stability. Especially when it doesn’t make sense to those around you. But it makes sense to God, and, like Joseph’s acceptance, it is enough to step forward and carry out His good and perfect plan.


Prayer:
Father, I thank You for Joseph’s obedience. That when he heard from You, he chose to obey and follow Your lead. I pray I may have a faith like his, a trust like his and the knowledge that You are in control, and whatever it is You have planned for me, it is growing me and bringing me closer to You. Thank You for carrying out your Christmas plan through a simple man’s heart and his obedient bride. Amen.