Hope Renewed & Glory Resounds

     One thing I never tire of is the beauty of God's creation. Almost always I am thinking about the beauty of His artistry, searching for His painterly, beautiful qualities of the life He gives, and dreaming in the color of His beauty; for truly, it is quite difficult not to ponder beauty, especially on sunny days.

      I woke up the other morning by the pure light of sunshine pouring through the blinds that cover my windows. Instantly my heart brightened and I sashayed out of my bedroom, twirled, listened to love songs, smiled, danced, skipped all the while singing, “La-la-la-La-la,” dreamily because it was sunny. I read much poetry, wrote some of my own, read outside, drove my car with the windows down, smiled at the sky with my eyes closed and I laughed. I did all of this in the space of a few hours and proceeded to then fill my day with many other things as well.

Sunny days are so good for my heart.

      I love this time of year—the twitterpated time—when the sun shines, the stars are bright and the cricket and frog’s symphonies are at midnight. It is so beautiful. However, where I live, right now it seems as if we are on the brink of spring yet still teetering because old man winter simply loves us too much. We have had some overcast days in which at certain times, the clouds burst as if they simply are overcome by an incredible tragedy and they pour their tears down on us in a great escapade of raindrops. Winter is having a hard time letting go of us, the dear, green Northwest, and who can blame him? Where we live is beautiful—even in the rain.

      I love the rain, truly; however, there is something about it that doesn’t brighten my heart as the sun does. I don’t have the urge to sashay about the room when the rain comes down. Rainy days aren’t always good for my heart. They are cold and wet and don’t proclaim the same amount of “Hope!” as sunny days so wonderfully do.

       I think that is what I love about the sun; it feels as if it is hope materialized and created; His glory beheld. However, in order to have the sun in all its glory, there must be rainy days prior. And rainy days are miserable if there is nothing to cling to; nothing to cover us from getting a cold due to the water falling down around us—there has to be hope that it will not last forever. Faith that the sun will shine someday soon; something to get us through the grayness of rain.

      I think it must have rained in the garden the third day following Good Friday so many years ago. I always imagine Mary sitting on her knees crying near her Savior’s tomb, with the blades of grass below her already damp from the morning rain and her tears adding to the remaining dew. Her heart was numb and heavy, I imagine, with little hope because the One who had liberated her from the seven bonds that plagued her was chained only three days earlier. The Man who protected her and loved her not for what she had done but simply because she belonged to Him; His life was stolen. He was buried in a tomb and the hope in which she held dearly onto was the stories and parables He had told her while on earth, I think. She really loved Him, and to remember Him within her heart must have brought her hope on that rainy morning. Hope that the Son will once again shine and sit with her.

      The Gospel of John records this time in such a vivid way. Mary was in the Garden feeling absent from her Savior, trying to hold onto Him, honor Him somehow. However, in the space of a few minutes, she went from downtrodden with nothing, to being filled and brimming with hope. The morning was rainy and gloom-ridden, however after realization dawned in the time of a few words exchanged, the sun shone and the hope in which she clung became glory radiating.

      When Mary beheld the dear face of her Savior, God and King, I imagine she did a bit more than simply sashay about the roses. I think she danced, and sang and praised and laughed and twirled and gave all she had in response to His glory aglow. Her hope was renewed because His glory resounded. The hope in which she cherished and embraced became living, breathing, laughing, singing and glorious praise because her Savior lived. Her rainy day didn’t last, but her hope more than lasted—it carried her through to the glory of the other side of clouds.

     Rainy days don’t make us want to twirl and sashay, however, hope-filled hearts on those days might make us desire to dance to the boom of thunder because hope now means glory will soon blaze. Sunny hearts are good for rainy days.

      The forecast predicts, “62 degrees and rainy,” in Portland this Easter Sunday. However, Easter is the perfect day to be hope-filled and waltz to the “1-2-3” between thunder claps. Our Savior lives! What better reason to smile with sunny, hopeful hearts than to know that one day, on the other side of these monotonous rainy days is eternity where we will have the Son shining with us—gloom gone. Sunny hearts rival even the brightest day in regards to beauty. And hope can’t help but make us sunny inside. Praise and glory be to God!

Happy Easter!

"And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."  - Romans 5:2-5

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope."  - Romans 15:13

Writer's Block and a Baby's Coo

    One of the sweetest things I have ever seen is something my nephew, Titus, has been doing lately: he has been fascinated with lights. He will be sitting in my arms with his hands wrapped around my neck, when all of a sudden; Titus lifts his face, coo’s with his arms raised above his head, palms open— reaching. His long, curly eyelashes frame his big baby-blue eyes as they mutually shine into the chandelier he is reaching toward. He will interrupt the happiest moment, when he is grinning and giggling, because he is so excited to simply reach out and attempt to touch one of these shimmering stars. For in his young mind, even a light bulb is a star. It’s the sweetest thing ever.

    I am not quite sure how this story fits into my post; all I know is it is one of the cutest things I have ever seen, and I simply had to share my auntie-joy.

    Although, there is something about a baby's coo that fascinates me. Usually a baby’s coo comes from the overflow of their thoughts. They are thinking, and having not quite developed their ability to talk to themselves, or keep their thoughts within their head; they make a noise in response to their musings. However, Titus’ coo is something special; it is very purposeful. When Titus coo's at someone, he looks directly at them and tries to speak. One can tell that he is trying to say something to you, and he is not simply squeaking out of his baby excitement uncontained. Instead, he has something he wants to say; yet doesn't know how, so he does what he can to communicate. And although we can't understand the words he is trying to say, the light in his eyes and his sheer desire to speak is enough. Thus he does what he can.

    God created in me a desire to write. He designed within me, a heart with poetic sensibilities-- sensibilities, I believe He wants to use through me, for His glory. God will lay on my heart what He wants me to say, write and compose, but sometimes I don't have the words. Sometimes I can't think of anything to say or write. The nouns, pronouns and adjectives which are supposed to flow, are bridled—writer's block keeps them confined within me.

    When this happens, I simply don’t write. I figure that this means it is not time for me to speak through my pen; even though God has laid the thoughts on my heart. When I feel as though I should write, but I don't have the immediate words; I wait. Titus is teaching me that this isn't always what God is calling me to do. Instead of holding back, waiting, and submitting under mere writer's block; I want to be purposeful when I feel within my heart what God wants me to say. Even if all that comes out in my efforts to bring Him glory are baby coo's, I want mine to be like Titus': Purpose-filled.

    In my efforts to write and speak His words, even if I feel like a small toddler, teetering and stumbling as he attempts to walk—having the ability, but lacking confidence—I want to still try. C.S. Lewis says that even if the desire to walk is there, God is pleased even with our stumbles. Thus, when I open my mouth to speak, my heart to listen, my eyes to see, my hands to hold; I want it all to be for the praise of His glory. I want to praise my King on purpose, not on accident. I want everything I do to be on purpose - even if that means writing against writer’s block when He lays the thoughts on my heart. For through my efforts, God is ever more glorified, than through my silence. I believe He will make perfect that which I attempt to do for His kingdom. Even if I can’t find the words and all I can perceive of my writing is a mess; His glory is made perfect in my weakness.

   I am so thankful to be an auntie—and have Titus as my nephew. And I am even more thankful that God speaks through the cooing of this little baby. I want to be like Titus when I grow up; I want what I say to be purposeful, even simple coo’s. Praise God.

I love Titus Ryan.

    “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 the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” - Ephesians 3:20-21

“I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.”   - Edward Everett Hale

Here I Lay My Isaac Down

Here I lay my Isaac down
Lord, my desire, Lord, my crown
O Lord, here is my Isaac,
I lay it down for You alone

Father, You say, I am completely forgiven
Led by You on this road to Heaven
Lord, I asked, Lord, I prayed
O Lord, You answered
Now here he lays

Many nights I cried, many times I prayed
Many times my sacrifice to You I gave
Laying it down at the feet of Your throne
Until that prayer was answered--
Here You blessed me with my own!

Then I loved, O Lord, I praised;
Your holy name, I exalted and raised
With all I had, I thanked Your name
Then You asked of me, what I dared not think
You asked me to hand him back; Truly, my heart sank

Wandering in this valley of unknown
Begging for peace but desiring hope
You called, O Lord, You asked
I praised You on the mountain
So, Lord, I praise You in the valley

You called, so Your servant answers
Though I must obey, my heart cries for compromise
Dear God, Take something else! --
My land, my wealth
Take something, O Lord, but not this

You rewarded my little faith
Though I stumbled, though I caved
You blessed Your servant with what I craved
Out of Your love, O Lord, You gave;
I thanked, I praised, I loved, I sang
Now out of my love, I must give

So, here I lay my Isaac down
Lord, my desire, Lord, my crown
O Lord, here is my Isaac,
I lay it down for You alone

I lay my Isaac down, for You to restore on Your own
O Lord, I give, O Lord, I’ll obey
O Lord, I still praise Your holy name
This is Your decree, and so I say:
Blessed be

Childlike

Snow inspires me. It inspired a very write-ie mood in me today. So I decided to blog.

     Today I was in the drive-thru of Starbucks with a billion-and-a-half cars in front of me (kind of), so I had time to sit and to think and to listen to Chris Rice sing in the background. I had time to watch the waltz of snowflakes around me. I was admiring the beauty, thinking to myself, “Whoa, that is so pretty.” When the snow started to fall heavier and faster.

     Each unique snowflake that fell upon the windshield of my Mini Cooper was at least the size of two quarters. I had to catch my breath because I could feel the Choreographer of these snowflakes wooing my heart. As if He wanted to impress me and speak and connect with me through my romantic and poetic sensibilities. My admiration went from “Whoa, that is really pretty” to utter awe in a mere heartbeat. As if the King heard my small adjective of “pretty” in response to His creation, looked down at me and said, “You like that? Well, then watch this.”

The symphony began.

     I could hardly breathe. My smile started to spread and tears nearly filled my eyes enough to spill over. Without a second thought, throwing propriety and proper manners to the icy wind, I rolled down my window in the middle of the drive-thru and stuck out my arm as far as I could reach, in the attempt of the capturing of these graceful crystals. Not minding the chilly air, nor the sleeves of my jacket getting soaked, all I felt was my joy and the smile of the King’s heart. He really impressed me.

    I have always been told that I am mature for my age, and maybe I am (And if that is at all true, it is solely by gentle parents and the Grace of God). Anyway, I heard that a lot, so I felt like I needed to completely put “Childish things behind me,” and live up to the term “mature.” In my young brain, I translated “childish” to feelings and emotions. I have always cried easily and felt everything very deeply. I thought tears meant I was a child. I thought being mature was having surpassing talents such as amazing rhetoric and being able to discuss politics and knowing the geography of the earth like the back of my hand, knowing why the sky is blue and physics. And that could be. Who knows?

     So I tried to tame the turbulence of feelings within my heart by bridling and blocking the flood. I thought discussing how beautiful and awe-inspiring leaves were when they changed color in autumn and progressed to fall to the ground at the brink of winter, was childish. So I became embarrassed of those feelings. Believing people to think I am silly and young and foolish and immature. Believing that the woman I am meant to be should certainly enjoy those types of things, however more from an artistic and intelligent angle-- that I should, after seeing something like that, have something philosophical and smart to say in critique or response-- not just sit in the beauty of it.

     I was still trying to tame my emotions, and become sophisticated and cultured, when a few years ago, I was reading in Psalms. The Psalmist, King David, wrote beautifully of Creation in Psalm 19. I had heard, memorized and read that passage of Scripture so many times, however, I read it at a vulnerable moment of time and that is when Jesus spoke to my heart. He showed me that David described the skies, heavens and the mysteries of the ends of the earth very simply. He didn’t make some grand discovery, indeed, at the beginning of this psalm, he wrote simply about the sky. And just the sky. Not why it is blue or what clouds are made of, but simply that it is the glory of God. I began to cry; for from the time I was very young, I always have connected to the most simplistic of things: The painterly qualities of forests, the intoxicating fragrance of rain, the taste of snow, the smile of a child, the excitement of twirling in a dress, the imagination of storytellers. The impulsiveness of youth, bright eyes, long eye lashes, the blush across one’s face, the vulnerability of a man’s smiling face when he hears his love returned by his girl. The sound of “I love you’s.” I am fascinated. And was still fascinated even when I was trying so hard to become “mature.”

     My Heavenly Father was showing me that my idea of mature was all wrong. That He created me with the heart and sensibilities that I have, because it is His facet of speaking and wooing and flirting with me. That I am young and childlike at heart and will never be able to tame for long, the love and excitement He placed in me. He didn’t create love, compassion, awe and inspiration to be held back. He created them to glorify His artistry through us. When realization finally dawned in the midnight of my mind, He began leading and teaching and showing me what beauty is, through that, He was creating a sunrise in my heart and being. The painterly qualities I used to cry at the sight of, were being revealed in me-- and I could see it in those around me. He was sculpting a beautiful heart in me through His patient, Fatherly love; all because I started to pursue becoming whom He wanted me to be, not what I thought I should be.

     I used to be embarrassed at the impulsiveness of my heart. Now, I realize that when Paul wrote about “putting childish things behind me,” I interpreted it wrongly-- ironically, in my immaturity. I began to realize that there is a very distinct difference between “childish” and “childlike.” One of which we should put behind us (childish) and the other our King is saying we should become (childlike). He describes what this looks like in the Gospel of Matthew chapter eighteen, verses one through five.

“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who, then,

is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ He called a little child

to Him, and placed the child among them. And He said: ‘Truly I

tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will

never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the

lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

And whoever welcomes one such child in My name welcomes Me.’”

    At this realization, my heart rejoiced greatly, for I realized that I am terrible at acting sophisticated and cultured and mature when I tried.  I received compliments such as, “You are very mature for your age,” when I wasn’t trying to be mature.  I was mature when I was listening to the prompting of the Holy Spirit.  When I grew near to God and allowed Him to be near to me.  When I allowed myself to feel what He is showing me through His way, not my “sophisticated” way.  When I said what was on my mind and heart through His love and gentle guidance.  When I expressed and shared His joy and love.

    When I finally began to understand what Childish and Childlike meant, that is when Jesus opened the flood gates of my heart and taught me how to write.  Actually, He opened the eyes and ears of my heart to listen to His words and He sculpts, through the chaotic messiness of my mind, and places words into the proper paragraphs and stanzas.  It’s pretty exciting.  At this same time of releasing my childishness and becoming childlike, He also allowed me to release the aches and pain that my hands cause me.  He allows me to, each moment I stand in awe, forget about the ache of my hands and sit only in His beauty.  It’s marvelous.

    Of course I am still becoming who God wants me to be, and daily do I still have to put childish things behind me and become childlike in response to His glorious love.  However, I am no longer embarrassed by the feelings in my heart.  I no longer feel the need to hide behind a mask of staunch religion.  Instead, He is showing me that I am a ragamuffin-feeler and that, as Brennan Manning answered the question in his book, The Ragamuffin Gospel, “How do we live in the presence of the living God?” he responds saying, “In wonder, amazed by the traces of God all around us.”  He is teaching me to be fully alive and stand amazed at His wonder.  I can finally be set free from the shackles I put on my heart and I can cry, smile, sing and dance in the love of the Heavenly relationship I have with the King of kings and Lord of lords.  Goodness, I am in love.

    And believe it or not, through this childlike wonder, I now see beauty in science, physics, astronomy, UFOs, rocket science and mathematics instead of feeling drudgery.  What a wonder, right?  Although I am created a feeler, and love dreams and simple things.  I enjoy those things as opposed to facts and details, but God did not limit me to only enjoying things through my right brained-ness.  Instead, He taught me that learning about these things are beauty to left-brained people.  And thus, I see the beauty in facts and science along with similes and analogies.  So, if you are left-brained and very smart, I appreciate you.  The world needs you.

    All of that to say, when the snow came pouring down around me as I sat within my red Mini Cooper, I didn’t just see it as frozen raindrops, but as Jesus wooing and flirting with me.  And I jumped at the chance to stand in childlike wonder.  So in the drive-thru of Starbucks today, although I had a silly grin across my face at the Waltz of these falling Snowflakes, I wonder if the smile on my heart was even bigger and brighter than the one on my face.  I probably looked ridiculous, but maybe I made someone smile.

    Want to be a little kid with me? Sweet. Let’s begin with admiring the stars tonight.

This Thorn Within My Side

I am a motion sick flight attendant and a sea sick sailor
Begging the moon to turn its face aside and hold back the windy Tide
I’ve been put on this ride, and whether I am ready or not
My flight has taken off

I feel unfit for this fleet
And Dislike the fact of nothing but
Air between the concrete and my feet
The wind in this sky is nothing compared
To the turbulence in my heart

My mind is speaking and my ears are hearing
As the pressure around is caving and popping
With the elevation rising—
I feel unequipped

I get sick from the slightest movement
And my stomach turns at the slightest provocation
Yet in the midst of this occupation
I am called to serve

I feel I couldn’t have been created for this—
Due to my motion sickness
I have a job to fulfill yet the
Mind and body You created
Appear feeble and weak

Could it be me?
Maybe I should get off this ride
Maybe I am called to a job
That involves a solid, unmoving drive
At least something that can shake away this thorn within my side

I continue to feel that This plane is unrelenting
The pain and fear is peaking
However, it is in this moment when
I finally start seeing
A view from high above;
This that You created

I was created—
My motion sick mind does not dictate or control me—
I was created for You
Created by a God that is good
By a God that can see and perceive all of this affliction
Before it even happens

At the climax He counters it with affection
And it is at this time
That I recall to mind and therefore I have hope:
Through the beauty of this view and in the midst of this climb
Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed
Your unfailing love for me will never be moved

My motion sick mind cannot be trusted in this climate of notion
My perception is not clear
Until I come through that cloud and fog of fear
I realize that You are ever near

Your grace is sufficient
While I have this thorn within my side
I have become equipped and fit for this fleet through
Your strength and light
In which I am enabled to finish out this flight
Even despite an uneasy tide and a motion sick mind
Your calling will override
And Your love, I will always find

 
“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken.” - Isaiah 54:10

Sunglasses

     I want to be fully honest with you; I want to know God’s will for my life.

Wait, you too?

     Some days I earnestly pray all day that God would just shine light over the unknown so I can better follow Him.  So I can know what to do.  I do not need a booming voice from the Heavens or a burning bush to tell me what God’s will is for my life.  However, a nice little letter in the mail, an email, or even a Facebook message from God would suffice.  Honestly, anything would be enough; I simply want to know which path to take.  I just want to know.

     In one of his songs, Chris Rice says that he would take “No” for an answer just to know he heard God speak because sometimes trying to see God’s will for his life is like trying to “Smell the color nine.”  That is how I feel too.  If I were to get a “No” from God when I ask about something, I would be content, because at least I know for sure that that is not the path to take.  However, every once and a while, I do not feel like I get a “Yes” or “No.”  People might say that is God’s “Wait,” but sometimes I feel like I need to act right away.  So what do I do?  I squint past the situation and try to see through to the thick, foggy future.

     In Psalm 119:105 it says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.”  This verse intrigues me.  God could have inspired these words to say that His word is a headlamp to our path.  Picture a miner with his light attached to his helmet as he sets out into a vast, dark tunnel.  Sometimes I wish that that is what it said, because a headlamp shines ahead of where we stand—at least five paces ahead.  We would be able to see what was ahead, but the present would be darkened—God didn’t want that.  If it were this way, we would be left in the darkness with no comfort except seeing our own destiny; robbing us of contentment for the now and taking away the ability to learn and experience the simple joys of the season we are in.  God says He will never leave us or forsake us—He will never leave His children in the dark.

     The verse also could have compared God’s word to a lantern—something that we guide and control.  With a lantern, we have the power to shine the light over whichever area of our path we desire to see more clearly.  Essentially, we are guiding our own lives—there is no reason for us to yield to God’s will and His sovereignty.  In effect, we are leading ourselves.  But God didn’t say that either.  He purposely said His word is a lamp to our feet.  Or in other words, this situation, this day, this choice.

     God has been teaching me a lot through this verse lately.  His light is shining over today.  In other words, we have this step clear to us, and not until we take that leap of faith, do we see the next step clearly.  The choices I am to make today are being made known to me when I need to know them—in His perfect time.

     So often I miss these revelations.  I put sunglasses on, fading the brightness of God’s grace over my present situation to squint and interpret the future.  I worry over the crashing waves in the distance before I ever even step out of the boat.  I miss God’s hands aiding and guiding me over those deafening waves because I am fearing the dark clouds looming in the distance.  When all I need to do is keep my eyes fixed on Jesus, on His light, to guide me—which He is ever doing through His grace.

     One of my most favorite hymns is by a woman named Helen H. Lemmel.  In the chorus she writes, “Turn your eyes upon Jesus; look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.”  When Ms. Lemmel wrote this song, she had already been blind for years; having to trust God with each step.  While I desire to know God’s will spiritually, as do all Christians, she had to rely on God’s hand even physically.  Her hymn goes along with our verse from Psalm 119.  When we worry about the future—what is to come, and where we should be—we are allowing the fear of the world to take over our hearts and minds—to cloud our vision.  But when we focus on Jesus’ face, His wonderful, all-forgiving face, all of that grows dim in the midst of His glory.

     While it may seem somewhat unfair to have only the present situation in the light, God does not leave us without anything to go by.  Philippians chapter four, verses six and seven, say that when we present our requests and desires to God, His peace will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.  This peace doesn’t always tell us straight out what God’s will is for our lives, but it transcends understanding.  An understanding that God is good that He will never leave us in the dark.  A peace that God knows and is guiding and purposing, all we need to do is learn to trust Him.

     I am still learning to take off my sunglasses and focus on the light of today’s step, and in that God’s grace abounds—praise Him!  So I do not know what His full will is for my life—I don’t know where I will go to college, when I will get married, or even who I will marry, for that matter; I do not know how many children I will have or what turns my life might take—but what I do know is that God has given me peace.  Peace for the present, a peace to trust Him.

     P.S.  I have to admit; I know a piece of what God’s will for your life is.  Would you like to know?  Funny thing is, it’s the same as mine.  His word will shed light over it.  Just read 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, and remember to take off your sunglasses.  Praise God.

“My heart of faith keeps pounding so I know I’m doing find, but sometimes finding You, is just like trying to smell the color nine… Nine’s not a color, and even if it were you can’t smell a color. That’s my point exactly.”  - Chris Rice, “Smell The Color Nine”

My Sometimes Immovable Hands

I look down and see
Just me
Two little hands
That I direct unplanned

These hands

I can see, can dance
On the keys and make melodies
As praises to You

These hands,

Write words
And draw with the expression of the
Things of my heart

These hands are used

To express this compassion
Through a touch
And Love through contact

But sometimes these hands

Do not work as I plan

These hands shake and stall

To the point that they cannot move at all 

This desire to use my hands

To make the music of Your voice
And write the words of Your song
Was placed in me by You

This cannot be Your plan

These sometimes immovable hands
The expression of my hands
Are contracted and confined

Why must I sacrifice

This that I love and that
Which was given to me
To use for Your glory?

You are glorified by my hands

My desire to speak through these hands

Is Your plan
And this waltz they dance is my Love for You

I speak through my hands

These sometime immovable hands

Why must I be taught through these hands too?
Why must You temporarily take away the movement of my hands?

Yet this is how You speak to me

Through these sometime immovable hands
You gently urge me to listen
When I cannot move my hands

Instead of me playing and focusing on Your melody,

You allow me to listen to the harmony
And smile to the rhythm
When I cannot move my hands

You allocate these immoveable hands

For the purpose of my turn to listen
I need not always be the one to speak
But I also need to listen; to learn

I feel through my hands and comfort those

Who need it, but You allow me to be

Comforted and held by another

When I cannot direct these immovable hands

What I have learned

Through my sometimes immovable hands

Is they are not only my hands

They are Your hands that You gave

Your glory is not only through

What I speak through my hands

Your glory is ever shining

Even when they are immovable

I look down and see

Not just me, not just two little hands

But Your hand moving and purposing

Ever still through my immovable hands

Mystery in Modesty

    My house is out in a forest, at the top of a small, secluded road.  I have birch trees at the top of my driveway, my house is brick and I have a creek running in the backyard through the trees.  To get to the creek, one must walk under an arch made of purple wisteria, walk down many stone steps to get to the bottom of a hill where the creek is running.  It is truly beautiful.  I walked down the hill this morning to go by the creek, and, as always, it was beautiful.  However, something was different.  Most of the leaves on the trees were gone and scattered on the ground, leaving it wide open to see through the trees.  And, honestly, I was a little disappointed.

  
    I feel it necessary to say that fall is one of my favorite seasons, it is a new masterpiece every day—even when the sun is not shining.  I anticipate every year, the time when the leaves fall from the trees.  But, as I was saying, today it was not what I expected.  Usually, walking down those mossy stepping stones is like an adventure, only once you dare to take another step do you reveal even more beauty than when looking at a distance.  All the way down you slowly uncover more and more in this mystery hidden inside the trees.  If I had not experienced that mystery before—during the spring and summer when it was hidden behind the leaves—I would have missed out on the journey of uncovering that beauty.  It would have been out in the open for all to see.

    I recently finished a book on modesty.  Growing up with brothers, I have always had a different perspective on modesty—it was always just my family culture.  It became routine for me to make sure I was dressing appropriately.  However, not until a few months ago—when I started reading this book—did I realize what modesty actually means.  It is not just being conscious of clothing so as not to stumble my brothers in Christ—this is a great reason to be modest!—but it goes even deeper than that.  Psalm 45:11 says that God is enthralled with our beauty.  Enthralled.  In other words God is captivated and enraptured by our beauty so much that we are commanded therefore to honor Him in our beauty.  But what does that mean?

     We are told, even by our culture in some ways, that beauty is not just skin deep—one’s character can be truly beautiful.  I am a “character-type-person,” or in other words, I believe that someone could be the most physically attractive person in the world, but if they have bad character, or they are rude, selfish or crude, it can instantly make them very unattractive.  Beauty is definitely a part of the soul and character too.  And I believe that is what God is mostly enraptured by.  He is delighted in our hearts.  In Bethany Dillon’s song “Beautiful,” she says that she desires for God to see her and say she is beautiful, for Him to look in her heart and say she is enough.  That is the cry of every human’s heart, I believe.

     One way that we can honor God by our beauty is to cover up that which is meant to be a mystery.  As we should be physically modest so also we should guard our hearts and feelings through modesty.  Proverbs 4:23 says, “Above all, guard your hearts, for it is a wellspring of life.”  While I believe in being vulnerable and authentic in our relationships with other people, I also believe that we should guard that which makes us as women—and men—a mystery.  Essentially, we should not tell every single person we meet every tiny detail about us.  Instead, we should, while being vulnerable where we can, and authentic in every way, balance that out with the mystery of our hearts.  We should slowly reveal our beauty in time.

     Now, what does this have to do with the trees and my creek?  Well, as I described above, I was disappointed in having all of the beauty and mystery revealed to me at the beginning—as I took the first few steps, I could see all the way down to the creek.  I could see that far down because the leaves had fallen so quickly.  There was almost, I felt, no reason to continue on because I felt I had seen everything already.  The joy in uncovering the mystery had vanished.  This is also how it is with modesty.  Girls, in our modern day culture, have revealed the mystery of themselves—physically and emotionally—too quickly because that is what they believe they need to do in order to be perceived as beautiful.  When in reality, that is not found attractive.  What people love is an authentic mystery.  While it may appear that revealing ourselves is what draws attention from guys right away, I believe it is not what they truly desire.  Men were created as gentle warriors.  They were designed to have to fight for a girl’s heart by wooing and earning her love and discovering her mystery slowly and over time.

     In letting time and tenderness reveal the mystery of ourselves, we honor God, but it also brings honor to our future spouses.  The apostle Paul says that our identities are “hidden in Christ.”  He is what gives us our mystery and allure.  In essence, we should hide our mystery in Christ for Him to reveal in His time.  Just as the leaves dance to the ground in fall—in obedience to God’s seasons—so the modesty of our hearts and bodies should be revealed in His time—in the perfect season.