Category: Presence

Standing on the Promises…

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I’ve said this liturgy of promises to myself over & over again, most often in times of great anxiety or distress. Almost fifteen years ago, in such a time, God reminded me that I could rest assured in any situation by claiming His Word. Psalm 94:19 says: “When anxiety was great within me, your consolation, O LORD, brought joy to my soul”. As I poured out my heart to Him that evening, it was as if He began to assure me of the unfailing promises I could always hold. I found myself listing them off on my fingers, finishing with exactly enough for two full handfuls. I call them my “Finger Promises”:

 

    1. God is w/ me, & will always be with me. (Isaiah 41:10, 43:2; Zephaniah 3:17)
    2. God loves me, & will always love me. (Psalm 136, Jeremiah 31:3, Romans 8:35-38)
    3. God is at work in my life, & He will always be at work in my life. (Psalm 121:7, Philippians 1:4, II Corinthians 2:14)
    4. God is in control, & I am not, for He is God, & I am not. (Psalm 135:6, Romans 8:27)
    5. No matter how circumstances appear, He is always at work for my good & His glory. (Isaiah 48:9, Romans 8:28-32, II Corinthians 9:8)
    6. He desires to give me the desires of my heart. (Psalm 16:11, Psalm 37:4)
    7. He has plans to prosper me, & not to harm me, to give me a future & a hope. (Jer. 29:11, Lamentations 3:31-33)
    8. God will not allow me to be tempted beyond what I can bear, & always lends me His strength. (I Corinthians 10:13, II Corinthians 12:9)
    9. The Lord’s timing & plan for my life are perfect. (Psalm 138:8, Isaiah 46:10)
    10. His love for me is perfect. (Isaiah 49:15-16, Romans 8:32, Galatians 4:7, I John 3:1,16)

 
The mere fact that I’ve never struggled to remember this list, and that each promise seems as clear to me now as it was the night they were given, seems to me a sign that God Himself wrote them on my heart. As I’ve searched the Scripture since, I’ve found multiple verses to support every single one. They assure my heart in each and every situation I face. No matter what, I’ll be okay. He hasn’t forgotten me, He never will. His love will always sustain me. His hand will never stop shaping my life to His purposes. Because of these promises I can stand and say with confidence: “I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my ship” (Louisa May Alcott). Let us continually take His promises up in our hands and hold them close, let us stand upon them as a sure foundation. He is always enough to satisfy our souls and fill our lives to overflowing.

Tenderness…

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 Anyone who listens to a music playlist of mine comments that I must be a “hopeless romantic”. Those who know me best would say that’s true, but in a different way than it might first appear. I never thought that mine would be a temperament satisfied with anything less than a tangible romantic love, but here I am, thirty-five and still single, and content. It’s only by the grace of God I can call myself a hopeFUL romantic. Since high school, I’ve prayed that God would turn all of the desires of that naturally hopeless romantic heart towards Him. He has answered my prayer, as He always does. When I hear a love song now, most often, my first thoughts are of Him. A great favorite is the song “Love Me, Tender”.

 

Though the word tenderness seems to have gone out of style with Elvis, it’s a wonderful word, and so perfect a description of the character of our Lord. Its synonyms include: kindness, kindliness, kindheartedness, tenderheartedness, compassion, care, concern, sympathy, humanity, warmth, fatherliness, motherliness, gentleness, benevolence, generosity. In Lamentations 3, the prophet Jeremiah states that the “tender mercies of the Lord” are new every morning. His is the only love that is merciful in every capacity, gentle in its every dealing, compassionate in its every gaze. The words of the song capture His unfailing love, the Love that can fulfill all our dreams, and take us into its heart, filling us with everlasting joy:

 

Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go,

You have made my life complete and I love you so.

Love me tender, love me sweet, all my dreams fulfilled,

For my darling, I love you and I always will.

Love me tender, love me long, take me to your heart.

For it’s there that I belong and we’ll never part.

Love me tender, love me sweet, all my dreams fulfilled,

For my darling, I love you and I always will.

Love me tender, love me dear, tell me you are mine,

I’ll be yours through all the years till the end of time.

Love me tender, love me sweet, all my dreams fulfilled,

For my darling, I love you and I always will.

Surrendering to Rest …

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I’ve been called particular and highly organized  by some, “persnickety” by my father. My physical therapist once commented on how strongly my body seems to like the predictable. I once joked with a counselor about how my family and friends exaggerated these tendencies by terming them as “OCD: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder”. She asked me to describe them and then remarked that she didn’t think the term was an exaggeration at all. Though I was surprised, I shouldn’t be. I like my world in order, and attempt to control what I can. It seems I can take chaos in stride until my physical environment is disorganized, but if it is, at those times, those who know me best know to keep a safe distance. Though it has its advantages, it makes finding rest challenging: it plays out most when it’s the least productive thing for me to do, like when I’m tired. Despite my stubborn resistance, rest is a habit my body demands I learn; I’m learning to let go, or at least practicing.

 

I’ve definitely tried to be a marathon runner in this journey of life, pushed myself to complete exhaustion more times than I care to count. I’m learning, oh so slowly, to become a weightlifter instead. When I’m diligent and following God’s rhythms, I rest after I work, and then to re-apply myself once recharged. For better or for worse, I’m reliant on His strength every hour of every day. As a teenager, I once asked God to do whatever He had to in my life, to keep me dependent on Him. Apparently, He knew my stubborn heart would need a lot of shaping and refining. I definitely didn’t know what I was getting myself into with such a request, but still find myself grateful He faithfully granted its fulfillment. Though at times it’s been painful, it hasn’t been without great reward; I’m blessed that He has given me Himself. I rejoice to sing with Matt Maher, “Lord, I Need You”:

 

Lord, I come, I confess

Bowing here I find my rest

Without You I fall apart

You’re the One that guides my heart

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You

Every hour I need You

My one defense, my righteousness

Oh God, how I need You

Where sin runs deep Your grace is more

Where grace is found is where You are

And where You are, Lord, I am free

Holiness is Christ in me

I Shall Not Want…

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I listened to a wonderful sermon about the classic Shepherd’s psalm, & the pastor (Chip Ingram) read the psalm differently than I had ever heard it, simply by emphasizing the personal pronouns present in almost every line.  

 

“The Lord is MY shepherd; I shall not be in want.  He makes ME lie down in green pastures; He leads ME beside still waters; He restores MY soul….”

 
Isn’t that so personal & powerful?  The Psalm is also such a good reminder of God’s promise for provision.  So, today, rest easy in the assurance that YOU will not be without: rest, restoration, guidance, safety, companionship, peace, comfort, joy, goodness mercy or love.

Faithfulness of Perseverance…

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It strikes me that the saints of old are often called the faithful. The most famous example of this must be in the beloved Christmas hymn “O Come All Ye Faithful”. Those of us with even a small acquaintance with humanity know that none of us are naturally saintly nor faithful. What is it that enabled these pilgrims to be found thus, and in so doing, to become “joyful and triumphant”? What would allow us to do the same?

In the “Faith Hall of Fame” begun in Hebrews 11, those such as Abraham and Moses are referenced because they believed that God had power to do what He proclaimed, and were obedient, even unto death, despite great obstacles. It could be said they persevered in the calling God gave them regardless of the circumstances.Merriam-Webster defines perseverance as “continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure, or opposition: the action or condition or an instance of persevering : steadfastness.” Paul wrote to Timothy, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race” (II Timothy 4:7). I have always thought of the two statements as two different accomplishments, but maybe they are one and the same. Maybe to be faithful, we just have to run our races, not win any prizes. Maybe we simply have to stay the course. 
Today, we promise to be faithful in everything from attendance to marriage, and yet so few of us are. For most, it has come to mean loyal, or steadfast in fulfilling one’s promises or obligations. If we simply dissect the building blocks of the word, it is to be full of faith, but its definition parallels that of perseverance: “loyal, constant, staunch, steadfast, resolute, firm in adherence to whatever one owes allegiance, implying unswerving adherence to a person or thing or to the oath or promise by which a tie was contracted” (Merriam-Webster). It would seem it is working in tandem with God, and taking Him at His word, that enables us to embody such constancy and unswerving devotion, and gives us the tools to persevere.

 

God makes us faithful, by being faithful to us. Each day, He asks us to run the course He’s set before us, and each day, He acts as our trainer and guide, as well as our fuel and our rest. I’ve found if I’ll just show up & take that first step forward, He’ll take me the rest of the way; irregardless, He shows up every day. He invites all to come, regardless of their qualifications or the training needed. The end results are in His hands, and regardless of how we place, He is “quick to mark even the simplest of efforts to please [Him]” (Tozer, A.W., The Attributes of God). He offers Himself to as the prize., and in so doing, He Himself is glorified. As we, the faithful, sing out each Christmas to THE Faithful One: “Jesus, to Thee be all glory given…..Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing…. O Come, let us adore Him….O Come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord” (“O Come All Ye Faithful”, Wade & Reading).

The Gift of Presence…

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There’s a faithfulness in presence. On the other side of my Grandma Thelma’s kitchen, and the table she always seemed to have prepared, sat Grandpa Ray in his screened back porch. No matter when we’d arrive for a visit, there he’d be in his chair, calmly smoking his pipe, ever composed and even-keeled. He never seemed caught off guard: throughout each day until supper and sunset, there he remained sentinel, regardless of what moved around him. He wasn’t an excitable man, and despite having spent his life as a barber, he wasn’t a talkative one. Even as a child, I wondered why he held himself aloof, always a bit removed even from those he loved most. I still know relatively little about his life, beyond the fact that he married my grandma when my dad was in high school, after my dad’s biological father had passed away. Grandpa Ray was the only paternal grandfather I knew, and though he never said he word, I knew he adored us. He  died soon after Grandma passed, so in my mind and in that reality, he was always with her.
Though I never understood his cautious engagement with life and people, I think it was through him that I first learned that presence itself is a gift. Grandpa Ray was an observer of the quiet and beauty around him, enjoying his vantage point of the lane through the apple orchard and the bluff of southwestern Wisconsin. More than that, he regarded relationships and life with acceptance and wisdom. On the rare occasion where he would choose to comment, it was clear he’d been paying attention all along, and his voice was respected. “[His] good opinion [was] rarely bestowed, and therefore more worth the earning” (Austen, Jane. Pride & Prejudice). Though he was a man of few words, on the rare occasion he was out of the house, it felt rather empty without him. By the time I knew him, and perhaps before, he’d realized he could do little to control life, little he could understand of it. Still, he faithfully offered his attendance, and stood beside us all; his was the faithful gift of presence.

“Looking for An Answer to a Question I Can’t Name”

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I learned a long time ago to stop asking questions of others if I don’t want to hear their answers. At least that’s the case most of the time, with most people. It’s definitely a different story when it comes to God; despite my best efforts to predict and control my circumstances, He always seems to answer in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes His responses takes my breath away with how wondrous they are; others, they can stop me in my tracks with how much they seem to wound. He’s hard for us all to comprehend. Mostly, it seems my questions have to do with the problem of pain, essentially asking why I and others must suffer. Christian apologist Ravi Zacharias points out that only a Western worldview would allow this question. Isn’t it funny that we frequently question why we deserve to suffer, but rarely consider why a just God has freely given us so much love and grace and beauty?

 

Just maybe, I’m trying to reconcile the irreconcilable. Still, I can’t seem to stop wondering why things happen as they do. Why are we all living our lives as if we’re trying to tip the scales in our favor, when we have to know that’s not the way it works? Maybe, as Norah Jones sang, “I’m looking for an answer to a question I can’t name”. Author Marilynne Robinson reflects on this too:

 

“Things happen for reasons that are hidden from us, utterly hidden for as long as we think they must proceed from what has come before, our guilt or our deserving, rather than coming to us from a future that God in his freedom offers to us… My meaning here is that you really can’t account for what happens by what has happened in the past, as you understand it anyway, which may be very different from the past itself. If there is such a thing….Of course misfortunes have opened the way to blessings you would never have thought to hope for, that you would not have been ready to understand as blessings if they had come to you in your youth, when you were uninjured, innocent. The future always finds us changed. So then it is part of the providence of God, as I see it, that blessing or happiness can have very different meanings from one time to another. This is not to say that joy is a compensation for loss, but that each of them, joy and loss, exists in its own right and must be recognized for what it is. Sorrow is very real, and loss feels very final to us. Life on earth is difficult and grave, and marvelous. Our experience is fragmentary. Its parts don’t add up. They don’t even belong in the same calculation. Nothing makes sense until we understand that experience does not accumulate like money, or memory, or like years and frailties. Instead it is presented to us by a God who is not under any obligation to the past except in His eternal, freely given constancy. Because I don’t mean to suggest that experience is random or accidental, you see. When I say that much the greater part of our existence is unknowable by us because it rests with God, who is unknowable, I acknowledge His grace in allowing us to feel that we know any slightest part of it” (Lila, Farrar, Straus and Giroux; pp. 222-223).

 

Perhaps it’s natural I don’t understand God’s working, when there’s so much about Him that simply can’t be known yet, and so much of what we do know defies understanding. I’m a spectator in a parade, and He’s the grand marshal, looking at His creation from a view up above. As C.S. Lewis says of his character Aslan, and in so doing describes and untamable God: “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”  Who could worship a god that was at our level, that didn’t defy our logic? What can we do but stand in awe? As Chris Tomlin sings, it’s good He’s “Indescribable”:

“Indescribable, uncontainable,

You placed the stars in the sky and You know them by name.

You are amazing God

All powerful, untamable,

Awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly proclaim

You are amazing God”.

Anchored in the His Harvest…

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A friend of mine was once  given a vision and a strong mental picture of harvesting. She saw a girl walking through a corn field, ripe for harvest. As the girl walked, the storm winds blew & endangered all that had grown. As she faced the storm, she carried a large anchor, & began to cast it against the wind, into the harvest field. Again & again, as the storms buffeted all that had been produced by hard labor & careful care, the girl made this choice. Again & again, she threw her anchor into the harvest.

 

It reminds me of Bebo Norman’s song entitled “All That I Have Sown”, which describes what ultimately comes of each of our lives:

 

And all that grows is our story told

As life unfolds here before

The peace we found in that broken ground

I can see them in the harvest…of all that I have sown

And when my life is done

I pray the kingdom come

And take me to Glory

It’s living inside me

It was planted like a seed

All to tell a story
It’s “all to tell a story”. The tasks given to each of us may require a hard, committed constant endeavor, and at times, can feel very lonely. We must encourage each other to take heart, and together, courageously cast out our anchors over and over again. Matthew tells us that Jesus said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Pray therefore that the Lord will send out workers into His harvest field.” Even prayer may feel like a long labor, and trusting the season of harvest awaits us may require immense faith; we are only capable of this great work as we are filled with God’s strength. As we anchor ourselves in a harvest that is most often unseen, truly, we anchor ourselves in Him. In Him is “all our hope & stay” (On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand).

“O Joy that Seekest Me Through Pain” (George Matheson)-

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One of my favorite sights in Barcelona is the artist Antoni Gaudi’s Parque Güell, where mosaic tiles cover the longest bench in the world. There’s something so beautiful about mosaics, isn’t there? They strike something within us not only for the picture they create with complementary colors, but also for the stunning revelation of patterns and colors one wouldn’t think of as naturally belonging together. They are all simply pieces of vessels and structures that have been broken and neglected, whose original purpose seemed to lie torn in worn-out pieces. They highlight the beauty of fractured things coming together to create something new, something unexpected. When this happen in my life, as in this present season of reinvention, the new and ultimate picture being made by God is often a mystery. C.S. Lewis spoke of God as being the master artist in our lives:

“Remember He is the artist and you are only the picture. You can’t see it. So quietly submit to be painted—i.e., keep fulfilling all the obvious duties of your station (you really know quite well enough what they are!), asking forgiveness for each failure and then leaving it alone. You are in the right way. Walk—don’t keep on looking at it.”

When I do catch a glimpse of God’s vision for what seemed fragmented and lost, it often takes my breath away. Submitting to His artistry, and to this mystery, ultimately seems to bring a surprising joy that can’t be ignored. Pastor and hymn writer George Matheson spoke of this too:

“O joy that seekest me through pain,

I dare not close my heart to thee.

I trace the rainbow through the rain,

And know the promise is not vain,

That morn shall tearless be.”

The Apostle Paul’s encouragement in Romans 8:28 is so comforting: “And we know in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, of those who are called according to His purpose”. One day will see the grand design: “Then I will know, even as [we] are fully known” (I Corinthians 13:12). That day will not only hold the revealing of His artistic design, it will be the completion of all our joyous victories, manifested in all their fullness.

The Song of the Meadowlark & The Coming of Spring…

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In Colorado, it’s definitely hard to predict when spring has actually arrived. Skies are typically as consistently gray as ever are, and spring blizzards and dust storms frequent. It’s mid-April now, and for a couple weeks, I’ve been hearing the song of the meadowlark, my favorite of all birds. There’s something about this bird’s song in particular that signifies the arrival of spring here. Now the daffodils are blooming, and I’m sure that spring is on the way. Oh, how wondrous it always is. Sometimes in the fall, I almost welcome the shorter days and quieter season, bringing with them a chance to turn inward. Despite holding a definite appreciation for each season, however, it does seem winter always leaves its mark. The coming of spring is always so welcome. Margaret Manning, an author and speaker for Ravi Zacharias ministries, reflects on the arrival of spring and Easter:

Even as Christian mourning turns to joy with Easter resurrection celebrations, it is important to note that Jesus bore the wounds of violence and oppression in his body—even after his resurrection. When he appeared to his disciples, according to John’s gospel, Jesus showed them “both his hands and his side” as a means by which to identify himself to them. Indeed, the text tells us that once the disciples took in these visible wounds “they rejoiced when they saw the Lord” (John 20:20).

The resurrection body of Jesus contained the scars from nail and sword, and these scars identified Jesus to his followers. And yet, the wounds of Jesus took on new significance in light of his resurrection. While still reminders of the violence of crucifixion his wound-marked resurrection body demonstrates God’s power over evil and death.

But his wounds reveal something else. God’s work of resurrection—indeed of new creation—begins in our wounded world. His resurrection is not a disembodied spiritual reality for life after the grave; it bears the marks of his wounded life here and now, yet with new significance.

One of the best parts of spring and Easter, it seems, is the joy we find in the perspective we have in them…perspective that is often wrought from the suffering and scars gained in winter-likes seasons in our lives. Bess Streeter Aldrich, a fiction author who wrote primarily in the the 1920’s, has a novel called Spring Comes On Forever. It’s a beautifully told story, but it’s the title itself to which I’d like to call attention. The wonder of spring is that we can enter into it fully, in all its presence and glory, and yet simultaneously receive the promise that it is always still coming, still waiting. May we never lose our sense of wonder in both realities!