The Graceful Blade

I hang alone; a vine withering, dying without You
As the Gardener You came and took a blade to my veins
With each cut You trimmed the pieces away
So the unnecessary could fade; and only grace remained
Until holy I stood, in the likeness of You
And the desires of my heart would alter, change,
Grow until they reflected only You

Wholly new with each cut You drew
The bad away, and pulled the rest to You
Until no longer I could deny
My exclusive need for the Grace you bestow

Finally I see that I am fully in need:
I am in need of the mercy You show
In need of the strength You bestow
In need of a peace to surround my heart
Dear God, it is Your highest art
To display the love which I crave, to those You create

Captivating and connecting my heart
Like a Sculptor and His art,
You cut away and recreate—
Molding and crafting unyielding clay
Until other’s at the end of my days will say,
That heart looked like Your heart

O Lord, as You cut and construct righteousness
From something that only lacks; I as a vine in Your garden
I will always behold the glory in Your art
I as the vine, and You as the King of Grace
You perfected and cared, tending to me like a newly grown tree
With it’s roots held steadily in You, a vine stemming from Your truth
The fruit of Your labor, You are cutting, perfecting
Your glory born in me

This is my prayer, O Lord, my psalm
I sing to the God of my life: freely trim from my heart
What need not stay,
Until I am but a breath in rhythm with the words You say—
Growing and raising to the sky in praise
Cutting and making me whole with each cut You trace:
Fully a new creation beginning to bloom
So finally I see and freely believe,
My exclusive need for
The Gardener that is Grace

Simple Notes

      Ralph Waldo Emerson once said we find great delight in seeing the beauty and happiness of children. In beholding the sight, he says our hearts become too big for our bodies. I think this is true, because these little ones truly do make my heart swell so big I feel like I can barely contain it.  I love the way God created children, their innocence and pure joy simply at being alive and loved.  I also love learning from these little ones. I think this is one reason I love babies so much—no matter how often I see them or how many I hold, I am continually fascinated. I think it is because I connect with them. Lately I have been learning a lot from my nephew.

     A few weeks ago I was playing around with Titus; he is twelve months old and is on the move; I am surprised he isn’t jumping yet. He walks and spins and dances. It is absolutely adorable. At one point during our playfulness of chasing each other around the house and playing with everything in sight; Titus tried to run.  He looked back at me, smiling when suddenly, his little legs couldn’t catch up with him, and he slipped.  His eyes filled with tears and he began to cry.  Which made his auntie shed a little tear as well; despite it being a rather graceful fall.

     After holding my little man in my arms, he began to calm down—his breath returning to a normal rate and his head lifted from my shoulder.  When he looked up at me, his charming smile had returned to his face and his eyes sparkled at me.  He is so smiley; I couldn’t contain my giggle—tears all gone.  After a moment, I scooped Titus up into my arms and sat down at our piano that sits across the room we were in—Titus perched upon my lap. I press a few keys, beginning to play the chords to an old hymn when Titus started to giggle. Suddenly he reached out and pressed both of his hands down hard upon the piano, palms spread wide; creating a great rumble from the instrument. Titus thought this was hilarious.

     He threw his head back and smiled so big his eyes squinted shut at the music; then he pressed the keys again. This time the rumble came from his giggles in response to the piano’s music. He was utterly delighted by the sound of this piano. After a few minutes of him playing around, banging the piano with all his strength; laughing the entire time at the beauty of the noise—chaotic though it was—he began to slow.  Then I pressed three keys. I played the notes C, D, then back to C on the piano. After a moment of thought, Titus’ tiny fingers feebly mimicked my simple notes. Pressing them in the same order I had, with a grin so big, it was beyond reason. Then he turned his face up to me, threw his arms around my neck and hugged me; delighted in the moment.

It was overwhelmingly precious.

     I could barely contain myself. Just as the quote above said, my heart had to have grown three sizes in the space of a mere moment simply at the sight of this little baby.

I really love Titus.

     After reflecting back upon this auntie-nephew moment, I can’t help but wonder if that is how God sees us in response to Him, His creation, beauty and joy.  I often wonder if His heart grows three sizes when He sees us.  The thought makes my skin tingle with excitement. He really loves us, you know.

     I believe the moment I had with Titus sitting at the piano is a reflection of ones I have with my Heavenly Father.  I delight in the symphony He orchestrates with the birds and crickets, winds and the gentle breeze. Marveling at the sound, knowing He does it all for me, for you. Even the sheer delight at sitting in my Lord’s presence is enough to make my heart go pitter-patter. I love spending time with Him at the foot of His throne; He is constantly pouring into me.

     I sit next to the Ultimate Composer, the same as I had with Titus; delighted simply be in His presence.  Then He begins to play the chords of His majesty, and I giggle at the beauty. He starts to play simply at first, showing me and leading me through His glory. When suddenly, the treble clef merges fantastically with the bass clef, leaving me speechless and His glory glows.

I am continually stunned; speechless in response to His beauty, musicality, creativity and majesty.  My heart abounds and fills—how He loves me!

     Then His song starts to slow. He plays three simple notes, reaches over and touches my hands.  He wants me to follow His lead, like the princess following in step during a waltz with the King—He shows me which keys. Reaching out to mimic His movements, I place my hands upon the instrument, delighting in who He is beckoning me to become through following His lead and doing what He does.

     I gently press the first note, excited to mimic His movements.  However, after the first step, my tiny fingers feebly mimic His.  And in those moments when I see my little hands shaking to master the keys; the small delay of taking my attention off of His face causes me to remember my past mistakes, my previous shortcomings, fears, failures and sins. Just like Titus, a little toddler learning to walk, still stumbling.  So the next note I play, is ever less confident than the one before.  I get scared.

     Slowly but surely those memories of my past mistakes—the times I teeter and fall in my attempt to walk—those memories begin to cloud my vision of the simple beauty of the Lord.  I begin to wonder if He remembers what I had done; my fear over the past steals the joy I have now. My reality shrouds my ability to hear His singing over me. I block it out in fear.  And suddenly forget the notes He prompted me to play in response to Him.

     I do this quite often; in fact, it is almost like the story of my life condensed down into one moment. I sing and dance delighted in the joy of the Lord; walking among the beauty of His gardens, when I slowly begin to stray. Instead of staying in step with His Spirit, I run with the wind. I can run on my own for a time—just like Titus; he felt like he could run faster than he could.  Until after the first quickened step, just like Titus; I slip and fall every time.  The fear that He remembers my mistakes begins to overtake me.  Even at the knowledge that I am a new creation; in my humanity, when I became new, I didn’t fully let go of who I used to be.  Instead, I held onto my shame despite being forgiven; the only thing that was new was the ideal of who I thought I should be that I freshly pinned onto my shoulder.  I begin to miss His song that He daily sings over me; I can’t see the dance He walks above me—all because I didn’t believe I was fully new, fully redeemed.

     I get stuck in my own “reality.”  When in His reality, I am fully forgiven. In fact, if I were to ask Him about when I fell, I have a feeling He would respond by saying, “It is finished.” Then He would smile; touch my face and say, “Delight in Me, my child.” Wiping the tear stains from my eyes, once again clearing my vision of how He sees me: Beloved and free.

I like it when He smiles at me like that.

     Now I see that when He forgave me, and the old life I lived had died—I didn’t just have to release an old life, but I also had to release the ideal of who I thought I should be.  Because both refuse to believe that I am free.  And I am new.  I am alive.

     When I sat at the piano with Titus, he had forgotten about when he fell. The previous tears that filled his eyes had been replaced by joy and delight in the “music” he played. Once again, I want to be like Titus when I grow up. When I sit at the piano with my Savior hearing His whispers of grace at each note played; rejoicing at the sound of my shackles falling to the ground, celebrating in the peace in which I can rest. And delighting in the Love that is mine; I want to hold onto the moment, throw my arms around my Savior and dance. Past mistakes wiped away, for I am free. I want to rejoice, for He loves me.

     “You dance over me while I am unaware. You sing all around, but I never hear the sound. Lord, I’m amazed, by You; Lord, I’m amazed, how You love me.”  - Desperation Band

     “You turned my wailing into dancing; You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing Your praises and not be silent. LORD my God, I will praise You forever.”   -Psalm 30:11-12

     “But may all who seek You rejoice and be glad in You; may those who love Your salvation always say, “The LORD be exalted!”  - Psalm 40:16