Encourage the Exhausted

Encourage the exhausted, and strengthen the feeble,  
Say to those with a palpitating heart:  
Take courage and fear not...
      (Isaiah 35:4) 

Exhausted: To be drained of strength or energy, to be greatly fatigued, to be used up, to have drawn out all that is essential, to be emptied.

Sound like anyone you know? 

"I would love to encourage people," Leah told me. "I think I'd be good at it. I just never really have time. Keeping up with my job and family and the house and laundry...I'm too tired to do anything but watch the News and go to bed!"

How do we encourage the exhausted when our own energy is continually spent? When we live with the same schedules, priorities and exhaustion that the world offers, we discover that we, too, are empty and dry. We cannot encourage others if our daily lives are no different from theirs.

"I have kids", Gina sighed sadly, "and it takes all of my energy to get them where they need to be. It seems like everything I do is for the purpose of growing my kids up to be successful people and use all their God-given opportunities. Besides, kids need to be kept busy and involved! But, yeah, I'm exhausted. Quite frankly, so are they."

Dallas Willard said, "Arrange your life in such a way that you have joy, great contentment and bold confidence in God." It's become my favorite challenge and encouragement for maintaining my priorities.

When we set our minds on things above, not on earthly things, transformation happens. We become the sort of person who naturally encourages the exhausted.

Shouldn't joy, contentment and confidence in God be the bedrock of Christian life? What if instead of living in a tornado of chaos and exhaustion, we stopped? What if instead of laughing off our over-crowded lives, we chose to pursue peace?

Our encouragement would come, not from behavior modification, trying harder to balance everything, but from giving God time and room to refine us, to transform us, from the inside out. We would encourage out of the easy yoke, a rested heart of joy.

Certainly we each have temporarily busy, difficult seasons. Circumstances gradually pull us into exhausting difficulties. It's easy to get stuck there. Have you noticed in your own busy seasons how desperately you long for encouragement?

More of Him. Less of me. That is the source of abundant life, His wellspring of grace upon grace, joy upon joy, peace that passes understanding. He gives us enough time to step away from the noise and fray, to be invited into unhurried living alongside Him in the easy yoke.

What if instead of hurriedly asking someone how they're doing, we listened to the outpouring of their heart?

What if when  asked how we are doing, we took the time to truthfully answer, "You know, I'm doing well. I'm getting good rest, eating healthy foods, getting lovely walks, enjoying the Word and prayer."

What if we arranged our lives in such a way that we could encourage the exhausted out of our abundance?

The God Who Burdens

"Sometimes I'm so afraid," Liza whispered. "I'm a Christian. I'm supposed to have faith and joy and peace. Well, I don't, so what does that mean? What am I supposed to do? Keep on pretending?"

I have seen the burden God has laid on men.  He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the hearts of men;  yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. (Ecclesiastes 3:10-11)

Who is this God who laid such burden on us? What is beautiful about God's people living bloody, broken, confused and afraid? Can we trust a merciful, loving God when we cannot fathom what in the world He is doing?

Like a jar of river water all shaken up, the burdens of our noisy, demanding circumstances swirl around us. The world is reeling out of control, a tornado of hopelessness and conflict. As the chaos and mud sling us about, the turmoil grows. Our vision is lost. Our voices add to the clutter.

A jar of shaken sediment settles only when it is still. So, also, God waits for us to be still before He whispers to us.

I must be still for the sediment in my life to settle and my mind to become clear. Good decisions come from stepping out of the whirlwind of clutter in our lives so we can hear the voice of truth. Only in quietness and trust will we find our strength.

Be still and know that I am God.

 

The King Never Quits

"I feel like a train wreck," I told my friend Lynn. "I'm completely tired."

She smiled. She, also, is a soldier-princess and she has been walking alongside me for years. She encourages me as only a close friend can do. She sends meals and gives me flowers. She sends texts and prays diligently for me.

As she coached me through our Pilates workout, I gained the surge of energy that would carry me through the rest of my schedule. No soldier-princess would fail to fight for her comrade, and Lynn faithfully spurred me on so I could continue to show up for love and good works.

A soldier is trained to hear the voice of truth and to obey marching orders without questioning, without doubting what the King is able to do. She has her sword, the Word of God, at the ready, her shield of faith is lifted against enemy attack and she continues to do the next right thing over and over again. The mind of a soldier stays focused on God during battles and there is peace.

A soldier-princess never quits. She continues showing up to love alongside her King in enemy territory, in the trenches of the daily hard and in the unfamiliar dark wilderness where she feels afraid and inadequate. She keeps pouring herself out, laying her all on the altar of service to the King and she considers it an honor. A soldier-princess never quits.

When the energy gauge is on empty, when physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually she is poured out for the King, it is the King who recognizes the need for a soldier to rest.

When a soldier-princess "feels like a train wreck", defeated and exhausted, she learns to wait for the familiar voice of the King. She knows her King never quits. Though a soldier cannot always leave her battlefield, the King is able to lift her soul away for awhile. He carries His exhausted and broken princess in arms of love where only He can heal, sustain and pamper her.

After the whirlwind, a still, small Voice. "Come away to a quiet place."

Away from the noise and the fray, deep in the innermost being of the soldier-princess, pain and fatigue, brokenness and confusion, prisons and disappointments are left behind.

One fist lifted warns the enemy, "Back off. She's mine." One glance at the angel army and the battle is finished. One smoothing of His hand over her and the princess rests. He sings over her, a song no other will ever hear. He quiets her with His love, calls her by a special name only she will hear through all eternity.

"You look like you're running out of steam," a neighbor called as I was limping past her house. "Are you okay?" Most mornings I am happily jogging or running when she sees me. I call out and wave, but I am unwavering in my training and discipline. Today my heart and body were aching from the inside out so I stopped to visit a few minutes.

"You need to go to a movie or even take a vacation. Or do what I do. Shut the bathroom door and have a good wailing session. Then take a hot bath and read a good book. Sometimes we just have to crash."

She's not a soldier-princess and she wouldn't understand. I may feel like a train wreck, but I'm not. I am a child of the one true King and He would never let me crash. My name is engraved on the palm of His hand. I am the apple of His eye, His protected and treasured soldier-princess. I am my Beloved's and He is mine.

 A soldier-princess never quits, but neither does her King.

Sunlight on a Cloudy Day

As I was leaving the store one December, I paused to encourage an elderly gentleman who was ringing a bell for the Salvation Army donation bucket. >

A small boy dropped some pennies into the bucket, then handed me a paper snowflake he had made.

"Thank you so much," I told the boy. "What a kind thing you are doing to give both your money and a snowflake to help other children."

"My mom gave me the money, but I made the snowflake," he said softly. "Do you think some kid would like to have it?"

I smiled at his "widow's mite" and nodded. "Very much. Snowflakes make everything better, don't you think?"

He agreed and reached into his pocket. Sprinkles of glitter fluttered around us, a snow fall in a rainbow of colors as he pulled out a stack of paper snowflakes. "Would these help, too?"

I glanced up and noticed tears in the eyes of the old gentleman still faithfully ringing the bell. I looked back into the bright, hopeful eyes of the young boy. With my hands full of paper snowflakes I began to sing, "Away in a Manger."

The little boy grinned and began to sing along. The older gentleman joined in with a strong, cheerful bass voice. Then an elderly woman, waiting beside her cart for a ride, began to sing along. In moments, a crowd of strangers was smiling and singing Christmas carols one after another.

The Christmas season has been left behind.  February winds have blown in swirling, sparkling snow. Focus on giving has turned to complaints about the weather, a longing for spring as beautiful snow becomes dirty and tiresome.

Sabbath heart, a heart set on things above, not on earthly things, is a heart with steadfast peace.  Goodness and faithfulness are my focus. A Sabbath heart does not brood over circumstances, does not spread negativity. We are the sunlight on a gray, dreary day. We share the God-colors and God-light in a dark weary world.

Let your light shine in such a way that others will see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. 

One small boy believed a paper snowflake could change his world...and it did.

Train in the Trenches

The pitcher slid from my hands splashing a tidal wave of tea across the floor. Grabbing a towel with one hand and my ringing phone with the other, I glanced at the caller name and answered, "Hey, girl."

Melissa greeted me. "You sound, um...busy? I need to ask a question."

"Spilled tea. I'm not-so-peacefully mopping the kitchen," I explained. "I'm okay. Go for it."

She laughed at the timing of her question. "If the joy of the Lord is my strength, why am I so beaten down today?There is no joy and strength in Melissa-ville."

It's a humid 90 degrees before sunrise and the air conditioner stops working. The toddler drenches the crib, but has helpfully taken off his diaper to wash the walls. Your husband says the bills must be paid immediately. Once you juggle the budget, find the bills and prioritize them.

The kitchen is a soured mess because the older children didn't do their chores. The clean folded clothes from yesterday have been strung over the chairs by the preschooler who decided to play laundry woman... and all you really want is a shower so you don't smell worse than the crib...Was that the doorbell?

You glance at the clock, aware of your looming check-up appointment with the doctor, promising yourself to be on time for the half hour you will sit in the waiting room. The doctor will say you are fine. But, you don't feel fine. You feel tired of battling.

When the prophet Elijah was overwrought by battle fatigue, God's answer was simplistic: Eat some stew. Take a nap.

Sounds terrific, God, but I need groceries to make stew and taking a nap isn't on my schedule today.

The joy of the Lord is our strength. Even without the stew or nap.

In the trenches, we cannot discern who is winning a battle. The Commander holds the battle plans and gives marching orders. Success can look like failure. What seems hopeless can be a catapult to higher ground. Peace can rule even in the heat of battle.

A soldier-princess is not surprised to find herself in the midst of battle. She never gives up, never quits. Most of our training happens in the trenches, the shield of faith raised against Satan's artillery.

Raise your standards high. Gird your armor on. Stand firm, soldier-princess. We will win the war.

Ben Sits Still

Ben scampers across the church aisle and scoots in next to me during the quiet communion time at church. With swinging legs, bouncing arms and alert eyes, he is trying his best to be quiet and still.

Like dozens of Sundays before, I put my arms around him, hug him close and kiss the top of his head.

"Nana loves you," I whisper. Since his newborn days, rubbing his back and cuddling him close has helped quiet him.

He knows the church routine and he's not a difficult child, but he's a little boy. Learning to be quiet and still, to know God, takes a lifetime of training.

Ben wants to play. He wants to run. He wants to talk. He wants to giggle.

Clasping his hands, bowing his head, Ben tries his best to be quiet and still. He wants to make good decisions. He wants to please God. He wants to delight in obedience.

He reaches for my hand and squeezes each of my fingers before resting our hands in my lap. He traces the veins on the top of my hand and draws numbers in my palm. Then he remembers. Once again he folds his hands and bows his head, squeezing his eyes closed.

Leaning back against me, he rests his head on my shoulder, trying his best to be quiet and still. With a weary sigh, his eyes pop back open and he examines each of my fingernails.

Be still and know that I am God, the Psalmist tells us. Be like a weaned child resting in a mother's arms. Sounds easy, doesn't it?

"Sit still!" a frustrated mother behind us urges her little one. Ben grins up at me and I lift him into my lap as his giggles escape.

"I love you, Nana," he tells me when I remind him to be still.

On the inside of my wiggly little bundle of joy, deep in the heart of him, the training has begun. The God who knit him together in his mother's womb, is still at work, answering our prayers for him, keeping his heart tender, peaceful and safe.

All discipline seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful, at times;yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness. (Hebrews 12:11)

Every morning I discipline myself to sit still, to be quiet, to know God. I seek to have a tender, peaceful and childlike heart.

I lose focus and find myself playing. Sometimes I find myself running from the discipline. I want to make good decisions. I want to please God. I want to delight in obedience.

"I love you," He tells me as I lean into Him, squeezing my eyes shut, folding my hands and bowing my head. I am, once again, for awhile anyway, focused and still, quieted by His love.

Learning to be quiet and still, to know God, takes a lifetime of training. We will reap a harvest of peaceful fruit, if we do not give up.

I love you, Father. Remind me to sit still.

Before the Close of Day

"He's having horrible nightmares," Jamie told me, concerned about her 6 year old. "We've taken away all of his dragons and soldiers, all his play guns, and all the movies that might be scary. The doctor thought it might help., but so far it hasn't. Then one night, John's daddy lay face down on the floor and prayed, sobbing like I've never heard him do before. John was wide-eyed, but hasn't had a bad dream since then."

Lorraine, an elderly friend in the nursing home, hadn't been sleeping much lately because of bad dreams. She was sure there was an unforgiven sin she had missed in her prayers. "I'm near worn out over it, but I just can't remember anything that ought to keep me from my bed. I've decided to just take that time and pray for other people and, you know, it's been a great help to me. It's relaxing."

"I'm really tired, just exhausted," a piano student explained to me. "I didn't sleep much last night and then I had an exam this morning at school. I fell asleep worried and tossed and turned all night long. I decided I would ask you to pray with me so I sleep better tonight."

"I'm not sure I've had a good night of sleep since I've been here," laughed Carol, one of the prisoners, after our weekly Bible study at the correctional center. "I sleep best when you've been here and prayed over us. You always pray for our hearts to be so close to God that even our dreams our peaceful."

Late one night when my son couldn't relax and sleep, I began to sing a simple, made up lullaby that has now soothed countless children. "Watch over my soul. It's little, You know. Oh, keep my heart tender toward Thee."

When my childhood friend, Sherry, and I had sleepovers we talked until one of us fell asleep. The other of us would be interrupted by the soft, regular breathing of our sleeping friend.

I pray myself to sleep each night. Others have questioned the wisdom of this, declaring it a disrespect for God, but I don't agree. God is never going to be the first one to go to sleep. As His child, He quiets me with His love, sings over me with joy, and I fall asleep, leaving Him to watch over me.

"Oh, what peace we often forfeit," the old hymn says, "Oh, what needless pain we bear. All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer." (What a Friend We Have in Jesus, words by Jospeh Scrivener, Music by Charles Converse, 1868)

We all suffer from fears, aches, worries, disease and brokenness. Sleepless nights and bad dreams can attack anyone. Prayer can be our familiar resting place. Prayer keeps our hearts tenderly tuned in to the Father's song, His quieting love.

To Thee before the close of day,

Creator of the world, we pray

That, with Thy wonted favor,Thou
Wouldst be our Guard and Keeper now.

From all ill dreams defend our sight,

From fears and terrors of the night;

Withhold from us our ghostly foe,

That spot of sin we may not know.

O Father, that we ask be done,

Through Jesus Christ, Thine only Son,

Who, with the Holy Ghost and Thee,

Doth live and reign eternally.

(Unknown Author, 7th Century; 

translated from Latin, John M. Neale, 1852;

Music by William B. Bradbury, 1843)

The Big Spring

The Big Spring, we called it. Without it our cistern would be empty.

A large tank was loaded into the back of Daddy's pick up truck out on the farm. All we had to do was drive to the Big Spring and connect to the pipe running out of the hillside. Cold, sweet water began from an unknown source, high on the hilltops.  It poured down through the pipe, there at the side of a gravel road, and splashed into our tank, filling it up. In a week or two my family would return for more life-giving water and I would once again be amazed at the miracle of the Big Spring.

After we grew up and moved to the city, we filled containers to take the water back to the city with us so we could enjoy it as long as possible. Our Charles, my sister's husband, once said it was the best water he ever had. Fresh spring water can be bought for a price in the market now, but back then, we had to find the wellspring source ourselves.

For of his fullness, we all have received, and grace upon grace.  John 1:16

One of my favorite running trails circles a clear, sparkling lake. I sometimes rest at a graceful waterfall splashing over the large rocks.  Something about water restores body and soul, washes clear our minds and soothes our hearts. Water gives life and a thirsty runner is grateful for a few moments to drain a water bottle and catch her breath.

The water that splashes down is ever replenishing. It's always the same waterfall, but not the same water. It flows from a secret place, water upon water. Continually providing new water instead of the old, sweet instead of stale flows the spring of abundant, life-giving power.

For of his fullness, we all have received, and grace upon grace.

Water upon water. Grace upon grace. Grace instead of grace. Grace for grace. A perpetual hour by hour, year by year, replenishing of new for the old, fresh for the stagnant.

Grace-full water splashes down from a secret place in my life, a wellspring that never runs dry. It replenishes me continually. Living water upon Living Water. Grace upon grace. It's the same spring, the same waterfall, but not the same water. The water that flowed through me a few minutes ago has been replaced, replenished by a new in-pouring of Living Water. Water instead of water. Grace instead of grace. 

"For of his fullness, we all have received." We all can enjoy, depend on, be restored by his fullness. It's not a secret source, but a known source, this sweet, Living Water. Charles would tell you it's the best water you will ever taste. Like the lady at the well, you will never thirst again.

"Guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." It flows with a continual sweet spring that splashes down from heaven. Living Water upon Living Water. Grace upon grace. Love upon love. Joy upon joy.

For of his fullness, we all have received, and grace upon grace. 

His grace is sufficient for me. His love is everlasting. 

Johnathan Said No

Johnathan wanted to stay up with his older siblings. It wasn't that he cared about their games and books, he just didn't want to be left out.  He didn't want to miss anything. First he begged me, then he argued with me. After that, the child ran away from me.

"No, Johnathan. Come, please," I encouraged the toddler, moving toward the stairs. "Come to me."

"NO! No. No. No. Nana. NO!" He yelled as I lifted him into my arms. Legs kicking, arms pushing me away, I carried him toward the bedroom as he continued to rebel.

In the darkened room, next to the crib, he softened his crying as he realized he was helpless to change his lot.

As I cuddled him close and rubbed his back I talked gently, patiently. "Night Night Stars. Night Night Moon. Night Night Bear. Night Night God."

As I comforted him, he put his head on my shoulder, and I began to sing. Though still disappointed, he began to tune in to my words, quieted by my love.

"No, Nana, " he whined softly. "No. No. No. No."

My heart rebels, too. At first, maybe I'm only disappointed, but my frustration can quickly grow into anger and resentment. I want to do what God wants me to do, but there is hesitation, fear or rebellion against his plan.

I know he wants what is best for me, but must it take sacrifice? What if I miss out on something everyone else is getting to do? I beg him, argue with him. Sometimes I even run away from him.  "No, God. No. No. No."

"I love you, Johnathan," I said, "It's time for night night."

"No. No. Nana....Okay. Yes," my little one agrees.

What opportunity is God putting in front of you today? Will you trust him even in the sacrifice?

Not my will but yours be done. Okay. Yes.

Maisy in the Hubbub

Only a few people were in the church building when I arrived on Sunday. Maisy was sitting quietly on a chair munching some dry cereal, watching her father practicing music with the worship team. She smiled up at me from her peaceful reverie as I sat down beside her.

I hadn't seen her for a day or two so there was much news to tell me. She had thought of me in my absence and I had thought of her. Indeed, she is one of my little favorites and always in my heart and mind.

My husband and I always sit near the front of our church. Some of the parents of our favorite little ones teach Sunday School and lead worship. Being easy to see as the children return to the worship service after Sunday School helps them to find us when their parents are on stage or ministering in other rooms.

Yesterday four little boys and Maisy were sitting beside us as the worship service came to a close. People began moving about after church in the hubbub of happy visiting and cleaning tasks. I gave permission for the boys to go play and continued talking with a friend.

Maisy laughed at the boys silliness as they disappeared into the small crowd. Suddenly seeing only unfamiliar people, she covered her eyes and put her head down on a chair.

"I'm right here, Maisy," I reminded her. She sat on my lap and snuggled into my hug.

"You're not alone. We would never leave you alone. Daddy is putting away his guitar. Mommy is somewhere around here cleaning up or something."

"Don't leave yet," Maisy said, her peace quickly restored. "I feeled like I mighted panic."

"I won't leave," I promised, lifting her up. "Let's go see what Mommy's doing."

Outside of the hubbub of life, peace comes easily. Familiar pleasures fill us with joy. Peace is the absence of fear and turmoil, but it's not always the absence of pain or disappointment. We can be full of peace and full of sadness at the same time. We can be full of joy and full of disappointment at the same time.

I am the disciple whom Jesus loves. As a child of my heavenly Father, I am the apple of His eye and one of His little favorites, always in His heart and in His mind.

Do you feel like you might panic and fall apart in the noise and the fray, beloved one? Does the way look unfamiliar, even dangerous?

 Fear not. The Lord is near. Panic not. He has a plan for your well being, not your calamity. He would never leave you alone in the hubbub.

Johnathan Goes Home

My home is familiar to Johnathan. He runs through the house from favorite spot to favorite spot almost every day. He is contented and secure here.

Favorite rocks, toys and gourds were scattered around the toddler as he played in front of the cozy fire. I was reading a book when he left his play, crawled into my lap and snuggled sleepily with his Pooh Bear.

Having already had his milk, evening snack and changed into pajamas, I said, "Time to go home. It's night-night for my happy boy."

Johnathan nodded and repeated, "Hap Boy. Nigh-Nigh."

As soon as I set him down on the threshold of his house next door, Johnathan ran toward the kitchen. "Mommy! Mommy!"


There was no welcoming smile on the dearest face he could see, no reassuring hug. Mommy was with the rest of the family attending a volley ball game. He ran back to me and, though a little bit disoriented and disappointed, there were no tears.


I cuddled him close, prayed over him and sang to him, our usual routine before I put him in the crib. He nestled happily under his quilt and was singing softly as I left his room.


I'm familiar and loved, but I am not Mommy, the center of his universe. My house is familiar and Johnathan loves it here, but it's not home.

I listened to Johnathan singing in his crib for several minutes. Even though he still mostly speaks baby talk and I couldn't understand the words, there was a sweetness in his singing, a peaceful security.



Almost daily I sit in front of a cozy fire and snuggle under a quilt with a cup of coffee in my familiar chair. I read my Bible, write in my journal, sing worship songs and pray.

It is my favorite spot in all the world, not because it's home, but because I'm with Jesus, the center of my universe.

This world is familiar, but it's not home. It is His welcoming smile I seek, the dearest face I could ever see.

Soldier-Princess Gratitude

For every lost dream that crushed my heart because You dreamed bigger for me, thank You.

For every broken road that brought confusion, anger, doubt and fear, thank You.

For every night I lay prostrate before the throne pleading and You silently waited, thank You.

For swinging a wrecking ball into my heart for noble purpose, thank You.

For allowing what You hate to accomplish what You love in my life, thank You.

For watching me choose a pit over shady green pastures and never leaving my side, thank You.

For hearing my mocking voice among the scoffers and enduring the cross anyway, thank You.

"This is who asks us to trust him when he calls on us to suffer." -Joni Eareckson Tada, When God Weeps"

Consider it all joy.  Consider it all grace. 

Enough Time

Tears of frustration pooled in Mattie's eyes. Lifting her small hands off the piano keys to cover her face, she said in a muffled voice, "I can't do it, Teacher. It's too hard."

"But you love this song and you want to learn it," I reminded her. "You will definitely be able to play this song when you are 80 years old."

She moved her hands to smile at me. "I'm only eight."

"Then we have enough time to learn it little bit by little bit, don't we?"

God says, "Be holy as I am holy" and "Forgive one another as I have forgiven you" and "Love one another as I have loved you". If we don't hear the mercy of a Savior and the patience of a Father in His voice, we can be frustrated to tears.

"I can't do it, God. It's too hard."

Nothing happens as fast as we think it will so we need not be disheartened. To God a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day. The Author of our faith sees all the way to the end result.

Mattie first learns to love the song. The rules of technique and skill are learned little bit by little bit through practice, but her motivation is loving the song.

Our motivation for spiritual growth comes with peace, hope and delight when we read the Bible to know and love the heart of God. We can trust Him because He has a plan and a vision for teaching us.

Reading the Bible as a set of rules to follow will bring heartbreak and discouragement. The skills and techniques of a mature Christian are learned through practice, little bit by little bit.

My days are numbered by Him. My times are in His hands. The Author and Finisher of my faith is not pressured for time.

Ethan's Treasure

The door opened and closed so quietly that I wasn't even certain someone had entered the house.

Eight year old Ethan sat on the couch mesmerized by something in his hand. I paused, surprised, not because he was on my couch, but because he usually comes to me in a run, with a bang and a shout.

Life is an ongoing party for Ethan and it's one of my favorite things about him, but this time he was very still. When he looked up, his eyes were full of joy and wonder.

"Oh, Nana," he tells me, opening his hand to reveal a shiny black arrowhead. "Look what Carolanne gave me!"

I am amazed by the magnitude of Carolanne's generosity, wondering if it really should be seen as a gift. Ethan immediately senses my question.

"Really. She gave it to me. She said I will keep it," he whispers. "I need to draw it."

Working methodically through the disappointment and pain of my life with rheumatoid arthritis, a new appreciation is unfolding. I find myself awestruck with wonder at this gift, this treasure, this opportunity held in my hands. God is listening to me just as I listened to Ethan.

"Oh, Father. Look what You have given me. You said I will keep it. I need to capture my gift on paper, study it from different angles, appreciate it with gratitude.

"You can have the drawing, Nana," Ethan said, hanging it on the refrigerator. "I don't need it. I have my treasure."

He tucked the arrowhead in his pocket and hugged me even tighter and faster than usual. "Bye, Nana! Thanks!" he yelled, leaving the door to bang loudly behind him.

And I have a treasure, too. I have been given an opportunity to live fully awake to God's presence in every moment, every circumstance, to discover grace even in disappointment, even in pain.

It makes my life an ongoing party. I have a treasure that makes me want to create something colorful to give away...and maybe hang on the world's refrigerator.

A Visit with Miss Kitty

A Time to Rest

As a child, I never could understand how our neighbor, retired from teaching in a one room school house, knew I was coming to visit. Miss Kitty watched for me out of longing, out of love, out of a watchful heart. At the time I only knew I would be welcomed with her toothless grin, a giant molasses cookie and a glass of milk made cold by her ice box.

"Come, child, sit a spell," Miss Kitty would greet me, wiping arthritic hands on her faded gingham apron. "My work is all but plumb done up."  She would sit down to rock in her life-scarred rocking chair while I munched cookies and rested.We talked about everything and nothing, just enjoying one another's presence.

The book of Hebrews tells us that when Jesus finished bringing salvation to the world, He sat down at the right hand of God to wait for his enemies to be His footstool. His work was plumb done up on earth and He could sit in the Father's presence now that it was finished.

Do you find yourself living for the weekends when your work is done and you're finally able to relax? Do you sometimes feel like a hamster in a cage as a young mom because when weekend arrives, there is still more work than you could possibly get done? 

Sabbath rest is a gift from God even though our work is not done. Sabbath rest is a gift the Father gives to His child because the work of Jesus is done. Jesus is alive, sitting on His throne, victorious.  He brought salvation to a dying world and now it is finished.

All week long we are generous with our time, going the extra miles of doing good to others, working heartily as unto the Lord, taking heed to fulfill our callings.  Christians are points of light in a dark place, salt that flavors the world around us, soft places for the brokenhearted to find healing.  

We are able to endure, to run our race strong, because of the rest of God. The essence of a Sabbath heart is paying attention, living wide awake to the presence of God in every moment. Jesus sits on His throne, longing for you, watching for you to arrive for a visit. Come, child, sit a spell. My work is plumb done up. 

The wealthy, the famous, the elite, the educated, the proud often miss this quiet enjoyment of the presence of God.  Their eyes grow weary from paying attention to their work and personal victories. Seekers of grace, shepherds, children, the poor, the sick, the imprisoned...the least of us...more easily accept the call to the rest of God. 

"Come to Me, all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens.  I will give you rest," Jesus offers His people. We are invited to sit a spell, to rest in His presence. It is up to us to pay attention. 

Grace Splashed My Skirt

Hurrying to accomplish much this morning, I grabbed the wrong spray bottle to treat a spot on my favorite skirt. 

Moments earlier, a soft voice had whispered through my fatigue: Storing Clorox Bleach Kitchen Spray next to the Spray and Wash Stain Removal for clothes is foolish. I thanked God for the reminder and planned to finish the laundry then rearrange my shelves more wisely.

As I realized my error, I burst into frustrated tears and instant begging that God would make this awful disappointment go away. How could I have failed to listen to His warning and immediately obey?  How could I be so careless with something so precious to me? Why did I never learn my lessons to slow down?

As my skirt hangs on the drying rack God has once again somehow cleared away my disappointment.Oh, the skirt may be ruined. I won't know until it dries. 

But God cleared away my disappointment by reminding me to slow down and live my life awake to His presence even in the frazzles of daily life.  Maybe He has removed the problem and my skirt is not ruined. Maybe He will provide a different skirt that is in my new smaller size, a skirt that fits me and is as versatile, cute and comfortable.

Either outcome, the good news is that my Father loves me with personal everlasting love.  My times are in His hands, every ordinary day of my extraordinary life.  Grace like rain splashes all around me.  All I have to do is open my eyes and see.

The God of Light

Father, my heart grows restless when I lose my focus. I get tired, sick, sidetracked.

My Spirit is upon you. Keep hiding My words in your heart. Come to Me when you are weary and I will give You rest. My yoke is easy and My burden is light.

I know, Father, but it doesn't always seem easy and light. Noise and fray so easily sway my focus.

The enemy is like a lion, seeking whom he can devour. 

Exactly. And I want to live my life wide awake to Your presence in every moment. Oh, won't You walk before me and beside me and behind me. Live in me and through me.

Deny yourself. Take up your cross daily. Follow Me. A holy passion. 

I want a pure and holy passion. I won't turn back. Be strong in my weakness, Lord.

I am the God-Who-Sees, the God-Who-Knows. I am the Lion of Judah, the Holy One of Israel. I AM, the God-Who-Is-Able.  It is I who answers and looks after you. 

I welcome a Sabbath heart, Father. Create in me a heart after Your own heart. Bless the work of my hands. Fill my heart, my life, with Your presence, Your glory.

My love for you lasts from everlasting to everlasting. I will satisfy you. I will feed You and nurture you.  I am Author and Finisher of Your faith. Walk in My ways. 

I love you freely, for My anger has turned away from you.  In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength. 

A Sabbath heart, a praying heart, all that I am I give to You. I will be still and know there is no God like Jehovah. When my way grows dark, I will listen.

Awake.  Arise and shine.  The Light of the World is Jesus. The light has come and the glory of the Lord has risen. Come, let us away. I will feed you with the finest wheat and with honey from the rock. I will answer you and tell you of things that you do not know.

Awake, My Soul, and Sing!

Photo by Kate Ter Haar (flickr.com)

Clean white snow falls gently, silently, smoothly. Winter wind increases and tosses the flakes about recklessly, brutally.

Each snowflake is unique, each necessary to the earth. A single snow flake lands on my glove, trembles for a moment, is joined by several others. Like a vapor they each melt away at their own time.

In the stillness, surrounded by falling snowflakes, I look upward.  More snowflakes than I can count fall around me. And I smile, awestruck with wonder. There is a God who sees and guides each individual snowflake from beginning to end.

"Be still and know that I am God." ~Psalm 46:10

A Sabbath heart, a heart that is still, learns to know God. Every day we enter the quiet Sabbath place. We listen for the still small voice of the God who is there and is not silent, the God who is able to do even more than we ask or imagine. And then every day we seek out the lost, the broken, the lonely in our world.

Life tosses us about, reckless, brutal to a being as fragile and unique as a single snowflake. We are here for a moment before we tremble and melt away.

Awake, my soul, and sing! Prepare the mind for action! Through many a conflict and many a doubt, awake my soul, and sing! 

Who Am I?

"I am a child of God and I'm not really comfortable with any other name, title, distinction or classification. My value, my worth, my identity, my standing and my future are all defined by that one statement. I am a child of God. That is the one truth that will remain in my heart forever. I have a Father who loves me and it is His love that has transformed my life forever.

I am also, out of that, a Jesus-follower. I consider everything a loss compared with the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus, my Lord. Jesus is my standard by which all things in this life are measured for me.

I am a student of the Bible. The Bible is what tells me about Jesus, this Jesus who not only embodies my life but represents everything that I want to become. This is way more than a book, this Bible of mine. It tells me the very words of my creator, God, His words, His deeds, His wisdom. It's more than a book, it's the very breath that feeds my heart and my mind on a daily basis. It is a wellspring of living water that quenches an eternal life and longing in my soul. It defines what I believe. It dictates how I am to behave. " ~Jon Weece~

(I quote Jon, rather than using my own words, because I love the way he expressed this summary and I know he stands true in word and deed. He's out to change his world and while I don't get to see him nearly as much as I would enjoy, I'm always walking alongside him. ~Karen)

God is real. The Bible is true. Jesus is alive.

Muddy Boots

Father, Dr. Luke and I just finished sharing a glass of iced tea and some cranberry-oatmeal cookies. I was fairly quiet and ate most of the cookies while they did most of the teaching. My heart seems to have paused on Luke 18:1 and the admonishment that we "ought to pray and not to lose heart".

Pray and do not lose heart...*smile. In the land that is plentiful, where the streams of abundance flow, I can still find myself discouraged and disheartened. I feel the splash of muddy waters filling up my boots on my faith-walk and suddenly realize that once again I have taken my eyes off Jesus, started trusting in my own thoughts and ways....and like Peter walking on the sea I begin to sink.

I am a Christ-follower with decades of learning to walk in His steps. I am a lead-follower with many who trust what I say and do. My faith is strong, but my heart is "deceitful above all things". The evil one is alive and busy with trying to implement his plans for my life. There are no pedestals you can put people on that protect them from failures and disappointments.

Pray...Such a small word, isn't it? When Peter was sinking and turned His eyes back to Jesus, the Author and Finisher of his faith, his faith-walk straightened out and his heart began to soar rather than to panic. We ought to pray and to not lose heart.

I like it out of the boat, walking in the rapidly changing waters with Jesus. I have learned that sometimes He calms the storm and other times He calms my heart and lets the storm rage around me. He has a plan and if I have to be disappointed and wait or if I need to sacrifice without understanding why, greater glory will come for the kingdom.

"Pray and do not lose heart" ...I believe that's one doctor's advice I will follow because it came straight from Father's heart...the God who sees and is able.

As I held hands with Dr. Luke and Father this morning for prayer, it occurred to me that in 6 small words Dr. Luke gave me Father's prescription for good health as I walk by faith and not sight...and I will finish strong.

Pray hard. Love deep. Finish strong.
Karen