Broken Praise

What does it look like
To seek and find the comfort that I need
From a God I can only perceive?

How does it sound
To let out a shout for what I know to
Be true about the One I believe is You?

O God, I am only learning to stumble
Through these designs of You
In what I hear is the truth

Searching to find this comfort, Dear God
I am weak
Dear God, I don’t know what to say

Yet I call out to You
O Jesus, the One of Hope,
From a broken and anguished soul

I know not what to do
When I can’t understand the way You move
But in humanity breathe, and keep breathing

Dear God, let this be my prayer
The breath I take in because all of this air
Is the only thing I can manage

This is my way of lifting up to You
My broken praise
O God, is this all I can say to You, Yahweh?

If so, let Your will prevail
And have my heart always know
I rest in the hands of the Great I Am

And in those hands,
I breathe and keep breathing
To the praise of Your glory

Therefore, If this be the last breath I take
Even amid this broken praise,
just give me one last chance to say
I love You

His Blown Glass

     Stars, vast night sky.  The wind and breeze whistle through the trees; the creek below rustles and washes over rocks and winds through the base of the trees.  Owls hoot, crickets squeak and again, the stars shine bright.  Have you ever wondered at the stars?  How amazing it is that they appear so silently each night, yet shine so bright?  And that God holds them within the sky—that He molded them like blown glass—for them to twinkle and shine just because He had us on His mind?  Every night they shine and surround us, completely surround us.  No matter how far south I drive, no matter how far to the east I reach, they are always above me.  That makes my head spin—God loves me so much that He decided to give me a reminder of His presence.  Yet, how often I get distracted.

     Twice this summer I have been given the opportunity to go out to the middle of nowhere, specifically to learn about the One who saves.  Each night, I slept outside with my friends to gaze at the stars—so that the last thing I heard when I fell asleep was our sweet conversation, and the last thing I saw was Jesus’ wink through twinkling little stars.

     I remember lying there, in the middle of a random Canadian lake, surrounded by the most stars my eyes have ever been able to take in.  I was amazed.  The people around me were amazed.  We smiled at the sky, laughed and talked, all the while marveling at the wonder of it all—counting shooting stars.  Then someone gasped.  Pointed to the sky and said, “Oh, I found a satellite!”  All as one, we turned our heads and followed the tiniest little dot as it streaked across the sky, amid the greatness of the even bigger, steady stars.  We all followed the satellite with our eyes until it disappeared; then we found a new one.

     As I reminisced the other night, as I sat on my balcony looking at the stars, I couldn’t help but laugh aloud.  We were all surrounded by such beauty, encompassed in God’s glory, yet it only took the tiniest, man-made object to distract us.  Planets and galaxies, beauty and glory, vast greatness, was overshadowed by a dot that traveled across the sky and momentarily disappeared.

     This thought made me wonder how often the same thing happens with me and my Lord.  I stand amazed, basking in His awesome wonder and glorious grace—filled and brimming with the hope He bestows—praying to myself, “Dear God, how could I ever leave You?”  I feel His presence and His love is so prevalent in my life.  When suddenly, my vision is zeroed in on something smaller, lesser, and momentary: something man-made.  Suddenly it is all I can see, I trace it through the sky of my life, missing the smiles of Him because I become so fixated on something of this world—even though it is something lesser.  I compromise my attention that He deserves because my mind and heart are so fickle.  It is not even that I am easily entertained, because His glory alone is enough to entertain my beauty-loving heart into eternity.  However, I simply become fixated and no longer can take in His bigger picture.  Almost like I am standing at the Grand Canyon, and allowing myself to become enamored with the stone by my foot, when all I need to do is look up and I’ll stand in wonder.

     It makes me feel like Peter as he slipped into the water because his eyes were locked upon a wave when the Living Water was in front of him.  I feel like Abraham hearing the promise of God, yet giving into fear and acting upon that instead of His promise in confidence.  I am like the Israelites who experience firsthand His miracles and moving of mountains and one moment dance in praise, then suddenly lose sight of what is ahead: the Promised Land.  Then I become like Jacob, wrestling with God in those moments of fixation upon the lesser, crying out to Him, “O God, where are You?  Don’t You hear me?  Show me Your glory!  Let me see Your hand; put Your blessing over me.”  And I do not even realize that He is so close that I am able to wrestle with Him.  He was ever nearer to me then I would realize.  He was seeking me, when I hadn’t even noticed.

     Then He touches me.  Reaches out like He did to Peter when he stumbled, like He touched the hip of Jacob then turned and gave him a new name; blessed Abraham with a son to hold, and as the same deliverance He gave to the Israelites—He reaches out to me, allows me an escape, begs to break the hold of my gaze and all at once; I see Him anew.
Explosion of glory.

     Galaxies of grace as steady as the stars, a hope secured, beauty around, love as vast as the sky, His presence prevalent.  I stand in awe.  He was there; He was near, I just allowed my eyes to wander.  He smiles, and comforts through the breeze.  And I am reminded that even the satellite had to pass by one of His stars, brushing near to His beauty—I was given opportunities to return and run back to Him, yet I chose something lesser, something man-made to zero-down my focus.

     The night I sat on my balcony, He whispered something on my heart.  Even amid life; the high points, the times my faith is tested, the times of impact, the times where His glory resounds, the times when I can’t hear His voice, the times where I feel limited and structured by time, the days I feel like conquering the craziness, and the times I give in to the scariness—He just wants me to ask something of Him.  He wants me to ask Him to amaze me.  To have Great Expectations of His glory; because it is in those moments He uses me, those moments when I can stand in the testing of my faith, or remain steady in Him; because I am allowing myself to keep my gaze on Him.  I am turning my eyes upon Jesus so the grayness of earth can fade because it is His art to amaze.  He wants to amaze me.  And He wants to amaze you.  We just need to ask, and keep fixated on Him.

     I want to be amazed, and stand in wonder all the days of my life, while I believe God wants me to ask Him to amaze me, this also requires and demands something of me: to seek Him first.  This reminds me of my life verse from Psalm 27 which says, “One thing I ask of the LORD, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek Him in His temple.”  I desire to gaze upon His beauty, marvel at His stars, cry at the sight of His creation, and stand in joyful awe at the sight of the tiniest lily.  Yet this also calls me to action. 

He asks me to seek Him.

“Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.”    - Matthew 6:33

“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 by You, how You love me!”           - Desperation Band

"If the stars should appear one night every thousand years, how men would marvel and stare; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown to them!  But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the night sky with their astonishing smile."   - Ralph Waldo Emerson

“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.”  - Helen H. Lemmel

“Even though you may not understand how God works, you know he does.”   - Max Lucado

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.  And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith.  For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”   - Hebrews 12:1-2

Speaking Louder Than Words: A Touch, A Look, A Servant

    Earlier this month, a friend of mine taught me one of the most valuable lessons of this year.  This was a lesson that I had to experience through vulnerability to learn its truly powerful effect that it can have. The story goes like this:

    Hummus is one of my weaknesses, I am not sure why, but I really love it.  A
friend of mine was eating some of it a few weeks ago, and I would have gone and
eaten it with her, however I had to be somewhere else.  I instantly found a solution to my lack of hummus: I decided to bring a cup over to my friend, scoop some of the hummus and take it with me.

    I was wearing my gloves that day; my hands were a little sore that night.  My friend noticed the blue, fingerless gloves upon my hands, and she knew what that meant for me.  She looked me directly in my eyes and held them there, as I sat next to her.  She smiled ever so slightly, slowly took the cup from my hands without ever breaking eye contact and scooped the hummus for me.  As she placed the cup back in my hands, she smiled again and just touched me, still with her gaze holding mine.

    It was a mere moment before I broke down, weeping.  Truly, I cannot describe it, but I was so beyond touched that my friend would serve me in such a gentle way, even when I had not told her that my hands were hurting.  She served me, no words needed, just a look, an act and a touch.  I could barely contain my heart--I felt as if my heart was filled and pouring over with gratitude, feeling loved, and a sense of hope and joy.  I threw myself into her arms and we sat there for a few heartbeats, with tears in both of our eyes.

That moment will forever be ingrained in my heart, and now I truly realize what great power we hold when we get to know another.

    I have always believed that my primary love language is Words of Affirmation; in fact, I believed everyone’s love language was Words of Affirmation because they seem so meaningful—and they are.  However, over the past few months, I am learning that I have greatly underestimated the power of touch, and acts of service.

    I love affirming people—there is something about edifying, or encouraging someone at just the right time that makes my heart soar.  In those moments, I feel so in step with the Holy Spirit aiding and guiding my words to other people at just the perfect moment. Simply to see the spark of light enter their eyes is enough— I feel like it is a little piece of heaven and hope that enters someone in those moments. I feel like I will never tire of it.  I love it.  (I am also a writer, so words are quite important, I suppose. Maybe that is one reason why I love affirmation).  However, while I love affirming, I am realizing how much I am affected—emotionally; from a heart-standpoint—when people serve me, or place a gentle hand upon my shoulder when I need it; I am amazed.  Challenging me to stand there, bare and vulnerable, in front of the one serving me because there is no front or cover up I could make for where I was at in those moments, no excuse for what I was—but they didn’t care about that stuff. All they cared about was me, my heart; they were doing something for me.


Specifically for me.  Simply to love on me.

    My friend served me in a way that if she were to do it for someone else, it would be seen as sweet—almost like holding the door open for a stranger, they would be touched.  However, she did something for me that was purposefully to serve and protect my individual heart.

    It is interesting how a simple act can teach me so much about the heart of Jesus.  The way my friend served me, simply touched me, reflects in a small way, the heart of Jesus.  Yet to imagine how much more magnified is the act of Jesus raising from the dead, with you and me written on His heart, ingrained upon His mind as if He cannot think of anything else; He chose to think of us, chose to serve us; to give Himself up for us, all of us. You and me.

    And He did that with an act.  He did it through a touch to the lame so that they may walk.  He knelt at his disciples feet, tenderly washing, and gently drying each and every one.  He did it with a look of His all-loving, all-powerful, all-knowing eyes.  And we stand there, vulnerable and bare, with nothing we can do, nothing we can say; because we see His heart wants to serve us in our vulnerability and lack of ability to do anything back.  He did it for us.  He did it for our hearts.

    Words are so important and so valuable.  Yet through my friends simple but meaningful service, I realize we can reflect the heart of Jesus in a moment, even without words.  Just a steady, loving look in another’s eyes; a sweet, gentle touch to someone that is hurting, a small act of service to others, even when they don’t know they need it, just because you want to show you care; you can shine the heart of Jesus.  And that is something that I desire to be like in my life; I pray that when people see me, they think, “Her heart looks like His heart.”  And praise God, He’s giving us an opportunity, and He left us an example.  Through Touch, Service, a Look, and sometimes with Words.  We get to reflect His heart to others.


I want to serve.


“In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!”  - Philippians 2:5-8

Clothed As Daisies

     One day, I hope each and every one of you can drive down the road on which I live.  If my heart could describe a paradise, it would be this road in the glory of summery spring.  I’ll try to paint a picture for you.  Lining our small, secluded private road are trees—trees that reach to the skies with moss covering their trunks.  At their base, on one side is a creek; the other side that swirling water of the creek, progresses into a waterfall.  Moss covered rocks, delicate to monstrous trees—birds, crickets and frogs croaking creating a symphony of your senses—the sight it indescribable.  In all honesty it is so beautiful.  However, while all of this is magnificent in its beauty; what I love so much about our private drive leading up to our house, are the daisies standing on the side of the road.

     On both sides of the road, I kid you not; hundreds of daisies stand bunched together in a sea of white and sunny yellow.  They so much overcrowd the sides of the road that it is almost as if they are reaching out to touch you as you walk or drive by.  The majesty of daisies is amazing because you can almost hear them singing.  While they merely reach up to your knee in height, these tiny beauties complete the masterpiece painting of my private road.  I could sit and stare forever at the wonder of it all.  I feel as though my heart could stay there forever.

    On our way to church one morning, I was describing to my family how much I loved the growing daisies, and how I was glad our new neighbors moved in at just the right time—the daisies are blooming!  To my great dismay, quite literally, simply a few hours later, when my family was driving home from church that sunny morning—I witnessed a terrible tragedy.  As we drove up the road, I began to notice branches and leaves scattered over the road; and as we got closer my heart stopped.  The daisies were being mowed down by the very neighbors I was happy for just hours earlier.

     I almost got out of my car to politely (while internally screaming) and asked them if they disliked daisies.  I could have cried.  The beauty in which I thought my heart could behold for the rest of my days were being torn down; only to remain flattened grass and a sprinkling of left over daises that sit upon the hill.  I could almost imagine the daisies crying the next morning on my way to school.  Surely it was merely the morning mist that sat upon their petals; but it may as well have been tears.  I felt as if my paradise was gone until next spring came to bloom.

     This may sound silly, and a bit overdramatized, and who knows, it may be.  But that is how I saw it.  I am sentimental and a romantic—I see my life through the eyes of my heart.  To me, everything is beautiful.  And my private road appealed so much to my poetic sensibilities that my heart grew to love it as a paradise.  And not until my neighbors cut down the daisies did I realize, where I live isn’t a paradise.  While I believe God designed it with us on His heart, the woven grasses, trees and leaves aren’t the paradise—these will fade.  And while my heart tries to forgive my new neighbors; in a way I want to thank them.

     Like almost everything in life, the dream of a drive I get to witness everyday as I come home is a reflection.  A reflection of a bigger picture.  A psychologist once said that Micro-systems reflect Macro-systems.  Or in other words, small things always reflect something bigger.  And that is what I am learning through the pushing of my daisies (pun intended); my heart can see that it longs for a bigger masterpiece just as C.S. Lewis once wrote in his book, Mere Christianity, “If I find myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”       The beauty of the world and surrounding galaxies are almost too much for my heart to handle.  Oh, the beauty that surrounds me.  But this Micro-system world is reflecting a bigger Macro-system.

     I love my sea of daisies, but it will not last: seasons change, cold winter blows through, neighbors come with mowers; something will come to make my heart see—this world and I were not meant to be.  I have somewhere I am heading toward.  A place where the bird’s songs will join with angels’ singing; golden sun will become the face of my Savior.  The smile of the King will shine upon me, the sound of rushing water makes me clean.  The tall trees and their harmony, will join with Heaven’s melody.  Sweeter honey for my soul, greener grass and the reddest of rose, sparkling white and shimmering gold—The Place my spirit longs for.

Heaven.

     Oh, just the name makes my heart glow and my spirit flutter.  It has taken me hours to write this, because each time I think about writing this to you; I end up on my knees.  Thanking my Savior and begging please, Jesus, take us Home.  I love thinking about the Day in which the body of Christ stands as one at the feet of His throne.  No longer will we have to imagine what His face looks like; for He is smiling right at us.

     He will take us by the hands and lead us through the private drive He has prepared for us.  His heart is glowing upon us, warming our hearts as the sun had done on earth; with just His touch, He settles our restless spirits.  With each step, our blindness is clearing, ever revealing brilliant colors we hadn’t noticed before.  We can hear the words to the chirp of birds and hear the praise in the breeze we’ve felt.  All of it becoming clear: every sense alive.

     He leads us through His majesty, and all at once, we gather around Him as one: clothed in sparkling white, with a drop of sunshine glowing from within us; golden, reflecting the Son.  We huddle closer to one another, with our faces turned upward, and our beings reaching out.  Reaching out as one, in our new way to praise, for we are in His presense.  And clothed as daisies, in sparkling white.  But unlike any other daisies, we will no longer pass and fade for we are staring into Eternity’s face and we are real.  Finally free, and alive to feel that we have reached the place in which our hearts were destined:

Home.

“Let us rejoice and be glad and give Him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and His bride has made herself ready.”    -   Revelation 19:7

“Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with Me in paradise.”   - Luke 23:43

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

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