My daughter and I went outside tonight just before bed and awed at God’s winter lights hung in the cold night sky. The full moon was showing off her grandeur in such full display you could take a peaceful walk under her or slump into a peaceful picnic of hot cocoa and blankets. Not to be outdone, the millions of stars glittered and splattered in unruly beauty, beckoning a feeling of holy creation itself. It’s something so impressive and beautiful, you could stand there forever and never bid daylight unless your feet were freezing from 45 degree air. (Jammies and barefeet are probably not the best winter attire for sky gazing.) A sky like that is something far simpler than “life” below, and yet far powerful than anything below. God’s kingdom of winter lights, God’s answer to peace and playing with artistic splendor. And us, standing front row to holy hues from a patio on earth! Somehow I know God looked down at a couple pajama-clad girls and said “happy Tuesday night my precious daughters, I’m glad you’re enjoying the lights tonight, I enjoyed making them for you and designing love so you could see it!” No matter where a human being stands under the night sky, no matter how rich or poor, young or old, put together or lost in trenches, healthy or sick, excited about dreams or exhausted about downfalls, with God, worried about God, wondering or waning about Him, east or west, or just plain breathing before bed, a glimpse of fresh crisp peace is theirs to behold when they look up. A glimpse of creation itself designed from a Trinity that loves us. All that said, most of us looker-uppers eventually head out to life again the next day, holy hues in mind but human spirits doing the living part. Life can be so much and so unexpected. I need a full moon on earth, in the middle of the daylight on a Tuesday. God, I need you.

As I pen this piece, fires are ravaging in LA, California. Homes are lost, so are people. Human spirits are crushing with “what now” and the road ahead is extreme. The same moon beams I saw tonight are illuminating ashes in LA as families look down at ruin where they can’t look up at peace. For hundreds and thousands, tears are falling on questions and strange couches. People are either in shelters or shambles, piecing together shock and a plan simultaneously. Eyes have been glued to tv’s, social media has erupted with first-hand family accounts and heroic measures, and political decisions are being called out. Children want their favorite toy, adults want their 45 years of memories back, firefighters want saved lives and a nights sleep, and countless businesses want to serve the same cups of coffee they always have or take the same flower orders or mop their floors after a customer’s haircut. Life is unexpected, and a lot in LA right now. If you’ve ever been in an evacuation or ferocious fire threat or severe weather threat, if you’ve ever had your home or business or life threatened, you know there’s nothing like it. Ever. Many of us will forever have PTSD from such situations and some will have lasting health effects from stretching the human spirit so hard. I well remember when fire was ravaging my own home town. We were evacuated to a hotel for a couple weeks and visited a shelter during that time. The image of people resting on cots in an open room is still vivid in my mind. The image of red cross people standing behind tables of food and drinks serving out love is still embracing me today. The fear of not being able to return home or where would we rebuild our business is still imprinted on my life’s story. One night in particular I remember just losing it in the hotel room out of exhaustion. I had my parents down the hall in a hotel room, my mother-in-law in another room, our dog with us, and I’d been out buying a pair of jeans and some shirts for myself and some clothes for my parents. My work emails were pouring in from students, but I had few answers and fewer focus. My husband had been navigating some car things and my daughter was figuring out how to do college assignments on sketchy hotel wifi. I returned from the lobby with salvation army suppers for everyone and felt a severe trigger of reality for a minute losing all emotions to tears. I didn’t want to go relax in the hotel pool. I didn’t want to watch hotel tv. I didn’t want to wash our clothes in a guest laundry mat or order room service towels. I wanted to return home and sleep in my own bed and have an ending to the nightmare. No amount of holy beautiful graceful moon beams would have stopped the tears that night. I was living a life my human spirit couldn’t rise to that night. This is the story for many in LA right now, and many in their own fires of personal living right now. “What now? And why?” Life is a lot across the nation, across the globe, across the street, across the hallway. No amount of moonbeams is fixing the right-here and right-now life. Instead of looking up from a patio on earth, it’s a moment to call deeply from a patio on earth, God WE need you.

During the weeks we were evacuated, twice for 2 weeks each, I had texted a friend on the fire department if there was anything I could do to help. Did they need food, blankets at the firehouse to rest worn-out firefighters, or did they need gatorades and vitamins? My friend said the team could use a warm meal. I was so thrilled to be able to be part of the fire effort and told him we’d have dinner there in a few hours! What greater feeling could there be than to feed your home town firefighters as they battled fire! Later that evening, the fire chief messaged the police we were cleared to come up to deliver dinner. My husband and I drove up to the station and got out of the car with food bags in hand. Immediately one of my friends came running out of the station bay and we embraced for a long time. She was one tired firefighter, but one brave woman! Her family home had burned to the ground, yet she was still standing in the face of duty and love for her town and fighting fire beside her comrads. More than food, she needed a hug. She needed a moonbeam and a star scattered sky of love. I was more than touched and grateful to support, to stroke her hair, to shine hope, and to be hugged back. Burritos and chips and salsa were never more popular than a fleet of sutty tired men and women! I would have done it every night in this terrible fire! As they were beginning to dive into the food, I went up to one of the firefighters to ask how she was. She got tears in her eyes. I leaned in to hug her and she stopped me saying “You don’t want to hug me, I’m stinky and dirty and sweaty.” I leaned in and embraced her fully with my body and arms and told her I didn’t care how stinky or dirty she was. I thanked her for her service and told her I would be praying for her. We were all navigating this nightmare, but she was fighting in it. About a year or so later, she recalled that story with me and the people standing around us, she said she’d never forget that hug and how much it had meant to her. As she told it, she had tears in her eyes and said she’d been so grateful for how I treated her despite how dirty she was. She was recalling a moonbeam in her life and I hadn’t realized that’s what it was for her. God SHE needs you.

Perhaps the message of a moonbeam is more than “happy Tuesday night my precious daughters, I’m glad you’re enjoying the lights tonight, I enjoyed making them for you and designing my love so you could see it!” Perhaps the message of a moonbeam is more than the moments of heartache and looking down at fire ravaged homes because we’re too overwhelmed to look up to hope. Perhaps the message of a moonbeam is more than burritos and hugging stinky dirty comrads in this life. Perhaps the message of a moonbeam and a sky of sparkling starlight is God coming near for all of it, to love us and to be in the mess with and for us, and that we may unabashedly need each other and His holy support for the human soul. Perhaps the lights against a black night sky is God coming near in the darkness because we need Him to, perhaps He’s lighting the way for us to look up and need Him too. Perhaps when we need holy and hope so much in this world, God is coming near using us to be a moonbeam for a fellow comrad. I can only hope one day soon the sky will light up in a heavenly majestic way and we’ll forever gaze up to the very holiness of Christ Himself. For now, God WE need you. All of us. All of you. God, WE need you.

Dirt clods were flying in my face, striking my arms, and pinging and stinging my jeans all afternoon. Shredded weeds were peppering my clothing and hair while sweat was mixing with dirt on my cheeks. Face shields and sunglasses did little against the power of motorized and mobilized brush. My feet were navigating uneven ground, my gaze directly at the earth. I was tackling the project of weed-eating the front bank on the edge of our yard. Weeds were gangly and ugly, snakes would wake up for summer, and defensible space for fires commanded the project’s completion. Weed eating isn’t exactly my favorite chore, but it does bring a sense of clean-up. Surprisingly there are parts of the job that require meticulous care, so as I worked I carefully went around the California poppies to preserve their beauty and respect, then continued moving my weed eater side to side to whack the weeds right down to the dirt and remove their roots. I didn’t just want them to be mowed lower, I wanted them to be removed from growing back as tenaciously fast as they tend to do. By the end of the afternoon, the bank looked great and cleaned up and I looked exhausted and dirtied up. And very done with uneven ground beneath me and dirt clods flying at me. Trust the mission, child of God.

It was now Sunday evening when I decided to take a drive in the evening dusk, time to breathe from life and ante up some self-care and morale. The air was still warm from the afternoon sun, the breeze flowed lavishly through my car windows as I drove The Trail. Sunset beams fell gracefully on the hills and vines as if beckoning nature to calm life down. There weren’t many cars this time of day so the open road was free to share her landscape with a tired woman. Dirt clods had been flying at my face all afternoon, but life’s dirt clods had been barring down at me a lot lately. I needed a minute. Ever feel that way? You need to see outside just to see outside for a minute. Sunroof open and sunset showing off her grandeur, I drove. My thought was to grab an evening hot drink and maybe a few things at Target, but mostly driving out of the dirt clods for a minute. At one point, I glanced down at my dash to see if I should fill up the gas tank for the week ahead. All was well there, but alas all was not well. I noticed a reading of my car. “Right front tire is low on air, recommend immediate checking” and it was flashing. Flashing didn’t seem like a good thing here! Back to uneven ground and “dirt clods.” Trust the mission, child of God.

I was alone and nightfall was coming, so I pulled over the side of the road and took a look. The tire seemed to look okay and didn’t show signs of being flat so I decided to cautiously keep driving and head to town about 15 minutes away. Once in town, I chose the safest looking and largest gas station, then pulled in next to the air/water tanks to seek help. Though I know a lot about cars, this was a relatively new car to me and I wasn’t sure what the tires should read or if I had a problem. I sat for a minute searching the gas station for a safe looking person to ask for help. The convenience store had some questionable people in it and I had no desire to enter that area where I’d be closed in and trapped in fear. I’ve seen one too many news stories where the convenience store was robbed or the attendant was shot. My insight told me to stay outside and control my own decisions as much as possible. I located a man washing his windshield while his gas was pumping. His wife sat in the passenger seat waiting and they drove a minivan so I wondered if they were a family. I surveyed him for a minute in his jeans and ballcap and decided he was safe to ask. Trust the mission, child of God.

“Excuse me sir, may I kindly as for your help. My car is flashing a tire concern and I was wondering if you could help me check it out. I’m sorry to trouble you.” The man looked at me, then kept washing his window. I continued one more try and said “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t concerned for my auto safety, do you mind helping me?” He laughed at me like I was off my rails, looked at me, then said “well, um, okay I guess I could do that, let me finish pumping my gas. . .um…., okay I guess so. . .um. . .I’ll be there in a minute.” I said an appreciative thank you and let him know I would wait over by the air/water tanks in my car. I pointed in that direction to show him my vehicle. He laughed again at me like I was a lunatic, nodded his head my way, and I continued to head to my car and wait in my driver side seat. I was feeling scoffed at and offended by his laughter and would have asked someone else if there had been anyone else safe-looking. He had turned from “physically safe” in my mind to a jerk in my experience. It’s a sad state of public society when a person can’t humbly ask for help at a service station and expect a kind hand in return. We’re all out on the road. Strangers are never safe and I don’t venture into them, but if one is needed I would like to think a service station is a humble enough place to help each other out. Evidently not so, “service stations” of any kind are few and far between in our world of fear and selfishness. All that said, this was a minute I unfortunately needed a stranger. I wanted to wait inside my car for my safety and didn’t want to draw attention to myself just weirdly standing around so I buried my feelings and waited. Trust the mission, child of God.

I watched as the man finished washing his window and secured his gas lid on tightly. Taking his receipt, he got into his car and drove away. He did not help me, he did not tell me he wasn’t helping me, he did not look my way. My help and his family mini van drove away, likely laughing. Uneven ground, dirt clods. Trust the mission, child of God.

Life is not easy. Needing is not easy and regard for each other has gotten watered down to distraction, fear, and fatigue these days. People seem stranded from feeling cared about, stranded from love. I don’t want it to stay there. I don’t want my life to stop there or my care of others to question there. I don’t want to be a jerk at a service station who won’t help people or a helpless woman who should’ve learned about her tires before emergencies put her in danger. I don’t want my attitude to succumb to strangling weeds, but rather a cleaned landscape of joy and strength to face the time of tribulation. I can’t wish all that positivity alone, nor can I accomplish it alone. I’m human, it’s a lot to yearn for. It’s a God-size mission. Have you ever noticed Jesus re-named a lot of people? Simon became Peter, The Rock. Hadassah became Esther the Brave Queen. Saul became Paul, brand new converted Christian warrior. Sarai became Sarah, part of the covenant as mother of all nations. Jacob became Israel, prevailing with God in battle. Abram became Abraham, a holy covenant and father of nations. These humans felt dirt clods flying in their face before and after they were renamed, but the difference became the ground beneath them. Before they were renamed the ground was uneven, rocky, and reckless. After they were renamed, the ground was solid, sustaining, and strong. They learned to trust the mission. Not alone, but with their Shepherd who never once gave up on them. God had removed the strangling weeds from their feet and created a beautiful landscape in their soul that would build His kingdom. Not because they were dirty, but because they weren’t. Not because they were lost, but because they were His. And not because they were scared, tired, or confused, but because He wasn’t. God saw through it all to His beautiful created children and desperately wanted them to do the same, change for the kingdom and change for their joy! Was the mission easy on them or God? No. Was it short and immediately awesome for them and God? No. Was the mission an act of love for them and God? Yes. Always yes. You are loved. Trust the mission, child of God.

With passion ablaze for each of us who seek something beyond the dirt clods, embrace the higher love that’s yours to cherish. Trust the complete mission of love working in your life, child of God. The mission that comes from your Shepherd in the field. Leave the strangling weeds behind and unbind from your lives from the affect of those who laugh your needs away and drive off. You are being formed into a holy warrior, you are in training for kingdom work. Not because you’re dirty, but because you aren’t. Not because you’re lost, but because you’re His. Not because you’re scared, tired, or confused, but because He isn’t. Will it be easy and will the dirt clods stop this side of heaven? No. Is it exhausting, unfair, and doubting sometimes? Well it is for the human writing to you this afternoon! But in those moments of despair, in those moments of shear need for rest for my soul, in those moments where I can’t see through the dirt clods and don’t want to, God isn’t gone. God comes near and builds! God is renaming you and meticulously preserving your beautiful gifts He created in you. Trust the COMPLETE mission, child of God!

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” Isaiah 26:3.

Some of us wonder if God is pulling His hand of protection away these days. Others of us wonder if God is coming closer than ever protecting His people. No matter where you are on the wonder-scale, it’s likely we can all agree the times we live are far different than anything we’ve seen before. Where do we abide in that?

Abide in worry. Abide in anxiety. Abide in wishes, wants, weariness. How about abide in money or masquerades? Though most of us wouldn’t say it that way, it’s exactly what we do. Abide in need and abide in life.

Abide in fun. Abide in relationships. Abide in good scores. Abide in promotions, premiers, or promises. Though most of us wouldn’t say it that way, it’s exactly what we do. Abide in need and abide in life.

A number of weeks ago, I was abiding in chores on a Sunday afternoon. Christmas and New Years had come and gone and the decorations were due to be packed back up for another year and put away. After one does that, the house looks a little lonely so I decided to get out some fresh linens, dust the shelves, and put a few new things around while tossing older things. I began cleaning a glass candle vase, but it had aged and didn’t hold up well. The bottom of the vase broke out the bottom leaving fresh jagged glass in its wake. Fortunately it had rested on the counter top when it broke so I wasn’t hurt in that moment. Into the kitchen trash it went, the bag got put in the garage, and I kept working merrily on my project. Our office had the week off work to bask in the aftermath of the holidays and enjoy our families and homes. Cleaning and nesting fit the afternoon and I was enjoying it. Abide in home.

Towards late afternoon, I went to the end of the driveway to bring the trash and recycle cans back up to the house. It had been trash day, so the cans were down by the street waiting for the garbage company to dispose of their contents. As one does, I picked up the kitchen trash I had put in the garage earlier that day and placed it in the trash can with a couple other items, pushing down on the trash bag to allow it to go to the bottom. Seconds later, the skin between my thumb and index finder was punctured, a large hole was gaping open with blood flowing quickly out. I’d forgotten all about the broken candle glass and pushed my hand right through it. Abide in pain.

Running into the house, I turned on the kitchen faucet and called my daughter to come help me. Fortunately she was on Christmas Break from school so happened to be home too. We tied a kitchen towel around my hand in tournequit fashion and decided I needed to go to the ER. I was bleeding quite a bit and feeling more dizzy and lightheaded by the minute, plus there was no way a bandaid would help here. There was no way 10 bandaids would help here. I waffled about going because I knew needles and stitches were in my near future, but my loving daughter did the thinking for us and determined I was going. She put me in the car, grabbed her keys, and off we went to the ER. Abide in instruction.

“I’m going to need to stitch this up. I’ll be using 4 needles of lidocaine so I want to prepare you that those will sting when I do that. I need you to hold very still so I don’t accidentley prick another area of your hand or miss numbing you up” came the doctors instructions to me. “I’ll do my best” I said, aching from pain and dizziness. He went to work, I squeezed my now-arrived husband’s hand, and my daughter watched in compassion. They all counted after each shot was given. “One down, half there, almost there, last shot.” I held my hand on his side table solid as a rock, but man it hurt and the tears came. Word to the wise, don’t get lidocaine shots if you don’t need them. They sting like fire and the needles in a fresh wound aren’t great either. For that matter, don’t push broken glass down in a trash can. You’re welcome for the wisdom. Three stitches later (should have been 4-5 in retrospect) and gauze bandaged around my hand, I was sent home to wonder if I had severed a nerve, tendon, or artery, or if I’d ever get the feeling back in my thumb. Abide in exhaustion.

The next couple weeks were an opportunity to be grateful it hadn’t been worse, but also a challenge to do everything left-handed instead of right. If I did use my right hand, it had to be using my last three fingers to open bottles or doors, fasten jeans or brush my hair, eat or cook, and type things at work. You use both hands far more than you realize until you only have one or part of one. For a 1 inch hole in my hand, it seemed like a ridiculous amount of interruption in my daily life and pain in my body. I began to have a very different perspective for people who have no limbs or much bigger physical challenges than I. Abide in gratefulness.

It’s been awhile now and the stitches are out. Fresh new skin has formed and the wound is infection-free inside the body and out. I’m happy things are healing, but when the circulation and feeling fully returns in my thumb I’ll be even happier. It’s a very weird recovery and I’m ready for the internal part to heal and return to normal. I’m told it will take months to a year sometimes for vascular areas to heal inside. Life certainly brings the big and little unexpected chapters to us. Abide in time, waiting, adapting.

Was God abiding in the ER with me? I’m certain God lovingly held my hand rock-still for the doctor to work. I’m certain He lovingly equipped my family as vessels of support for me. I’m certain God gifted the doctor to sew thread on skin and evaluate wounds. And just as noticeable, I’m certain God didn’t remove my pain or heal me on the spot even if He hurt for me. So many of us feel the ER’s of life right now. Joy is an emergency. Answers are an emergency. Trauma, jobs, school, money, open dreams, and feeling loved are all an emergency. Is God abiding in the ER’s of our lives? Is God abiding in the ER of current events nationally and internationally? I’ve thought a lot about the answer to this very human and present question for many of us. I believe God is fully abiding with us. The pain may still be as present as He is. The devil may still be vying for victory in our ER’s. Yet I believe God’s hand is on our hand and I believe God is sending vessels to support us. I believe God gashed His hand to save ours. Abide in trust.

Is it always easy to believe God abides with us? No. Do encouragement words on a page solve our problems? No. Is life suddenly easy when we abide in trust? No. Does God fix the pain of problems while we wait for the miracle of majesty? No, not always. That’s a lot of important no’s. That’s a lot of important hits to our faith. It’s a lot of important hits to fragility, famine, or fatigue. Life is hard. Where’s the “yes” question? Where’s the “yes” answer? When is the “yes” answer? Abide in searching.

Several years ago, I was talking to a friend when they said something I’ll never forget. He said “I have a list of things God would never want.” I asked why he felt that way and if he believed God made him. “I guess He made me but I know He’s sorry He did.” My heart went splat. God’s heart went splat. We talked for a long time about the story, about life and pain and past. We talked about what causes us to feel so separated from a holy feeling. For the most part I listened. When someone is unwrapping self-worth, they aren’t looking for a pep talk. They’re looking for a place to abide at all. To protect privacy, I’ll spare the story of details, but at its core was a sense of failure. A series of things had happened, some caused and others not caused, but the result had been losing life as they knew it. My friend was abiding in failure. To keep it real, haven’t we all set up failure-camp in our mind at one time or another. You can hardly travel this life without wondering about your worth either inwardly or outwardly. It’s rough and it isn’t just a hand that’s torn open. It’s a life. Abide in re-fining.

If Christ were sitting here reading this with you, if Christ were sitting in your ER putting stitches on your mistakes or wiping tears of pain from your face, if Christ were sitting beside your chair listening to your “list of things He would never want,” what in the world would He say to bring such a need full circle for you? Which of the “abides” would He pick for your mental desperation, your life’s hot mess, your flat-out loss of answers? Which of the “abides” would He pick to answer your dreams and desires to live free or live fierce? I can only cry out from my own experience and I can only imagine from my own friendship with Him, but I would guess it’s this. From the holy lips of Christ Himself and within the holy embrace of His warm body, the Lord Himself would look straight at your yearning eyes and say “It’s none of your abide’s my beloved. It’s ABIDE IN ME. Keep your eyes on me. I got you. I. Got. You. ABIDE IN ME.”

ABIDE IN ME. ABIDE IN ME. ABIDE IN ME.

“So that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God.” Ephesians 3:17-19

The seasonal words to Christmas songs seem to call out a longing in each of us. We pay more attention to their voice, the calling of their melody, and feel an urging of honest emotion rising within. We respond and find ourselves forgiving some demanding time to engage in a moment of softness. Is it the vulnerability of the season? Is it the longing for something less complicated, less reality-rushing? Or is is just the end of a year and the 12-month journey calls for a party? Whatever it is, the music seems to usher in holiness, happiness, or hunger. Today, Silent Night came on in a playlist I was listening to. It’s a centuries old song I would guess, sung in a thousand concerts and known the world over as one of Christmas’s calming and truest vibes. Some find it traditional and take it no further while others find it pure and take it to heart. For me, it came to heart today as it enveloped the car. I cranked the volume and let the ambiance take the moment as I drove the road towards errands on a Sunday afternoon. “Silent Night, Holy Night, all is calm, all is bright. . . . . .glories stream from heaven afar. . . . .sleep in heavenly peace.” The words “sleep in heavenly peace” rose up in me and bid me into a moment of breathing deeply. I was tired. How often I hunger for doing life in heavenly peace. How often I hope for “being me” in heavenly peace or loving others in heavenly peace. Perhaps most poignant, how often I pray for trusting faith in heavenly peace.

Silent Night moment killed! Heavenly-Peace moment ruptured with life. A car suddenly pulled out of an adjoining road in front of me, I came within mili-seconds of a T-bone accident going 60 miles an hour. I was on a straight-away in the road, so it wasn’t a matter of blind corners. The rain had broken for a time, so it wasn’t a matter of inclement weather or hydroplaning. And the speed limit was 55, so I was only speeding a little (keeping it real!) in the freedom of the straight-away. The driver pulled out in the road with confident plans and simply didn’t see me, she saw her cell phone. I laid on my horn and gunned my brakes, swirving as much as possible without hitting the jogger to my right. In the midst of jelly legs, swear words, and a deep breath, my rear view mirror showed the other driver merrily on her way with not a breath lost. Why? She wasn’t looking up. I’m sure the jogger had an opinion on how jelly-legs felt right then and I’m guessing he thought of some words too. Peace was not the capstone of our open road today.

Has something or someone pulled out in front of your peace? This is a “yes” for all of us at some point in our lives. And for many, it lead to a wreck, a time of uncertainty to suddenly gather the pieces and put them back together with jelly legs in tow. Life can hurt, and worse it can take faith away or kidnap joy in the darker moments. The notion of Heavenly Peace feels illusive while we recalibrate what on earth to do. I wonder what God would say to usher in Silent Night’s “all is calm, all is bright” to us. I wonder what God would do to illuminate Silent Night’s “glories stream from heaven afar.” What would He place to advance “radiant beams from they holy face.” Come inside my dreams to imagine God on the road.

“I’m stressed God.”

“Tell me about your day, what happened my love?”

“A car pulled out in front of me, I didn’t like it and I almost got hurt. So did a jogger. My legs turned to jelly.”

“I’m so sorry! I saw that and I didn’t like it either. I know it scared you.”

“Scared me bad Jesus. Can I ask you something?

“Always, I love to answer your questions and sit with you. Especially when it’s about your day or how you’re doing.”

“I feel like life is pretty hard and there’s always something pulling out in front of my peace. What do I do about that?”

“The devil is pulling out in front of your peace, he wants you to get in a wreck. I don’t. Remember that.”

“He seems to do it a lot to me and all the other joggers in this life. I don’t like him and he makes everything harder.”

“Don’t spend time not liking him, spend time loving me.”

“Will that keep him from pulling out in front of my peace?”

“Don’t spend time keeping him away, spend time keeping me informed. I’ll handle him.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to like him. He’s lost. You’re not, sweetheart. Have you heard the song “Silent Night?”

“I listen to it at Christmas.”

“What’s your favorite part of that song?”

“Sleep in heavenly peace, what’s yours?”

“Radiant beams from thy Holy face.”

“Why that part?”

“That’s how I love you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I pour radiant beams from my Holy face to yours. I’m here. My child, I can’t stop things from pulling out in front of your peace. I can’t stop every wreck from happening to you in this earthly chapter of our life together. But I can tell you there will never be a wreck that will stop my Holy Face from seeing your life. There will never be a wreck that will stop my radiant beams from planning a way through for you. There will never be a wreck that will keep me from answering prayers of joy and restoration for you. I know life hurts honey. I love you so much. Can you trust me on that?”

“I just need you.”

“I want you. Keep your eyes on me, don’t look down and don’t give up when something pulls out in front of us. We’re together on the roads, the King of the Universe and His beloved YOU. Okay, my turn for questions. Why do you love the part about ‘Sleep in heavenly peace’?”

“I like the word ‘peace’.”

“Yes me too, check this out! “The LORD bless you and keep you; The LORD make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The LORD lift up His countenance upon you, And give you peace.” (Numbers 6:24-26)

“Thank you Jesus. I needed that at the end of a hard day. I needed you.”

“Sleep in heavenly peace my love, I’m shining on you all night and I’ll be here all day tomorrow. I don’t tire and I don’t leave you. Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.”

Perfect, healthy, and normal. She wasn’t any of those things before surgery. For ten very long newborn weeks after I delivered my daughter, I pleaded with the pediatrician she wasn’t breathing right. I described how she would only nurse for seconds at a time before needing to breathe. I told him she would never take a pacifier without spitting it out to stutter breaths and cry. I told him she would experience choke and spasm sounds for no reason. I told him her color was pale and her limbs were limp, her nutrition poor, her weight falling. Sleep was rare for her without episodes of gasping to inhale and exhale. The same was true for me as I laid beside her urging myself awake so I could make sure my beautiful infant was still breathing, terrified she would stop if I slept. I was a mother and it came with strong intuition that something wasn’t right with my beloved. On the eighth time to the doctors office, I pleaded to my pediatrician “I am not leaving here today until something is done for my baby, she isn’t breathing right and I’m worried she won’t make it.” I’d had enough of being told her lungs had a condition called Stridor and just needed to finish developing. I’d had enough of being told I was a sleep-deprived new mother and worried about “nothing.” And I’d had enough of being told “nothing” was in her throat or up her nose or in the chest sounds of a stethoscope. I wanted vibrant unharnessed oxygen flowing into the lungs of my child. I needed full life-giving oxygen flowing into the life of my child. Lord, let me be oxygen for your kingdom.

Within 24 hours of that doctor’s visit, my husband and I found ourselves in the ER of a specialized pediatric ENT unit in the city. We were told the Senior Pediatric Surgeon was clearing her entire day’s schedule to operate on our daughter. They’d found a random cyst sitting in the back of her 10 week old throat the size of a gumball and air was barely squeezing past it. She was starving for air and unable to breathe, eat, or sleep. She could have and would have died. Moments flying around us, we were then greeted by an OR assistant in full blue scrubs and gloves asking me to let go of her. There will never be enough words to describe the moment I had to hand my baby over to the scrubbed assistant and watch her tiny pink blankie and her tinier frail body carried to the OR. There will never be enough words to describe the terror and relief all colliding and crashing at once in my head. This was the twilight zone. “I will hold her little hand in mine the whole time for you, I totally understand, I’m a mother too” came the whispered words of the nurse as she hugged me tight and left. She had given me a moment of powerful oxygen with her compassion. Lord, let me be oxygen for your kingdom.

“We don’t normally allow parents in the recovery room, but would you like to come inside and hold the oxygen for your baby girl?” came the words of the same nurse hours later. With tears flowing and fear falling, “YES, I will!” My husband and I came around the corner and saw our baby on the little tiny bed hooked up to wires and IV’s. The nurse brought me to the side of the bed and gently transferred the little oxygen mask to my hands so I could hold it over my daughters mouth and nose. This was the moment I’d been fighting to have for weeks, helping my baby breathe in and out, in and out, in and out. “She’s waking up, so this is helping her lungs while she does that” explained the nurse. “She’s not in distress, the oxygen is making it easier for her to rest while she wakes up from the anesthesia.” More moments of compassionate oxygen coming from the nurse to me. I couldn’t take my eyes off my sleeping baby. She was no longer gasping for air as she slept, but she also wasn’t in her safe bassinet at home either. Birth to 10 weeks had already been full of strain and stride and I realized in that moment, I was raising a young life that would know more of the same combination. How would I navigate her to more stride than strain? I didn’t know, but I did know I’d be there to hold oxygen to her heart every time she needed. And I did know I would need more nurses in my life giving me oxygen of compassion. Lord, let me be oxygen for your kingdom.

Are we the dependent infant needing oxygen to rest from strain and repair, or the compassionate nurse giving it to a stressed and hungry soul, a held-hand of love until we’re breathing again? In my life, I want to be both. I want to know humility as a child and a warrior. I want to know the robe and the resilient. I want to know the fallen and the fighter within my own soul. I want to live the truth and call the breathe of God Himself to fill my truth no matter what we’re walking through together. It’s my deepest longing in life to breathe for my Lord. To keep walking, to keep waging on towards the kingdom. To serve with all my heart and all my might and all my time so that I can be oxygen of kindness and compassion for the kingdom. It’s also my deepest prayer in life to depend on Him with all my mind and all my needs and all my trust so I can be filled with the breath of grace and love as I trudge and tire. I am journeying through and looking for the joy just like each of you. I am trying to use my gifts and change my gaffes just like each of you. And so often, I cry out to Christ to help me see what He created so I can cherish it the way He does. To see me, to see others through His eyes. Help me see the lives behind the people. Help me see the stars and streams of water behind the Creator. Help me see the human blockage of air so I can act and hear the call and say ”YES, I will!” And in those quieter nights when prayer is speechless and my heart is strengthless, I beg He come to my hospital room of life and hold rest and relief over His baby girl so I can breathe for as long as I need and as deep as I crave. Lord, let me be oxygen for your kingdom.

My dear readers, whatever moment it is for you, whether your holding oxygen for another’s life or needing it desperately in your own, invite the Trinity’s Kingdom and live the truth. Invite the kingdom to your dreams. Invite the kingdom to your loved ones dreams. Invite the kingdom to your strides and strains. Invite the kingdom to theirs. Invite the kingdom of waterfalls of His divine grace to your parched human grit. Invite the kingdom to cascade living grace on them too. Most of all, accept that you can do that. Accept that He can do that. Accept that He will do that. Most of all, dear warrior, accept that He WANTS to do that. God of hope, God of today and tomorrow, God of breathe, God of His own children. Accept. Lord, let me be oxygen for your kingdom.

What thing embodies the essence of peace? What place embodies the stillness of peace? What person embodies the voice of peace? So many go looking for it and many more starve for it. We love our goals and dreams, we work hard and learn harder, and we do chaotic life the best we know how. We’re engaged in a deep life with everything from potential to purpose and it keeps us moving forward. But somewhere inside, we long for abiding peace. Somewhere in there we long for time to feel it, especially in a raging world. Maybe the area of peace is different for each person, but it’s still peace inside the craving mind and drumming heartbeat of a human life. Reimagine peace.

Some time ago I was in a hospital waiting room while a friend was getting some tests done. An elderly man shared the room with me and was tending to items on his phone while he waited. He got up once or twice to ask the receptionist how his wife was doing, then thanked her and sat back down. He wasn’t in a hurry and didn’t seem anxious about being there. He didn’t have fancy clothes and didn’t seem to be stricken with ”what if.” He seemed calm, he emulated resolve, but most of all he acted as if he felt peace in a hospital waiting room. Reimagine peace.

About a half hour later, a clinician wheeled his wife into the waiting room and said she was done and ready to go home. He let the elderly couple know the test results would be sent to her physician as soon as possible. Based on the other comments from the clinician, I guessed she had undergone tests to determine lung function. The couple thanked the clinician and joked with him about her socks and short hair. She had all the time in the world to explain she’d just gotten her hairdo done and loved her new cut. She said her hair was short and needed to be combed down, but she loved it anyway. This elderly lady was about four feet tall and beamed with the conversation. The clinician helped her transfer to sitting on the seat of her walker and patted her on the arm as if to say ”you’ve been my favorite patient today!” They thanked him again and he headed off to the next procedure while she settled herself in her walker. Like her attentive husband, she too seemed calm and simply worry-free. Had they been here a lot and felt trust? Is that where the peace was coming from? Were they older and wiser to life’s stress and choices of reaction? Was that it? I didn’t know, but I wanted to. I’d spent hours, days, sometimes years in hospitals with family and hadn’t ever felt the essence of peace like these two people. Reimagine Peace.

He got behind her walker and began to push it as she sat on its seat. As they came closer to the waiting room door where I was, I told her she looked beautiful in her new hairdo. I smiled at her and let her know she also had beautiful nails. She was so pleased I’d noticed and explained how her daughter had done them for her. She splayed out her fingers and said ”look, she did a good job on these short things, I love the color don’t you!” I smiled again and said ”we girls need the pretty colored nails and I love it! God bless both of you as you go home.” She beamed and shifted to turn to her husband. ”Honey?” she said. He immediately knew what ”honey” meant and they worked together to help her stand for a minute. She held on tight and I sat wondering what they were doing. He lifted her walker seat up and retrieved a small ziplock bag from the compartment beneath the seat. Once seated again, she reached into the ziplock and picked one of many lavendar pouches she’d made, then handed the bag back to her husband. I kept watching and wondered as they worked together on what seemed a rhythmical event. She settled again and then reached for both my hands and cupped them in her own. ”Oy Nee” she said. ”Sweetheart, do you know what that means?” I answered with ”no, tell me.” She said it was an expression of giving blessings to someone to say thank you. She told me she wanted to give me this lavendar from her son’s garden with a small message she’d tied around it that said “oy nee.” She said I had really blessed her with my smile and wanted me to know it delighted her that day. She said God’s peace was so dear to her and she wanted me to know I was dear. She then cupped the lavendar pouch in my hands, squeezed them inside her own, and wished me peace. She beamed again, a small tear in her sparkly eye, and away they went out the door. The lavendar pouch still sits on my dresser months later. Reimagine peace.

An elderly woman spending the afternoon in a hospital for unknown test results gave me a new insight to peace. She had complications with lung function and sustaining the breaths of air, yet she overflowed with the breaths of peace. How? I believe she re-imagined God Himself. I believe she knew He was King and Father enough to come walker-side in her life. I believe she knew He’ll take her heaven-side in His. I believe she trusted He wanted to do both because He made her. Have you heard someone’s belief’s before? Have you heard them from a walker? Have you re-imagined them from yours? “God, please come walker-side in my life and help me re-imagine You. Help me re-imagine who you are and where you are and how far you’ll come to be with me. And while you light the flame of grace and reveal your personal love to me, I ask for peace and rest in the shelter of The Almighty.” Reimagine HOLY PEACE.

It’s been awhile since I put my passion for Jesus into words. It’s been awhile since I’ve polished my praise for Him. And it’s been awhile since I’ve ministered the way I love Him and who He is in my life. I’m not sure why, perhaps I’ve paused my public voice so I could soak in His personal voice. Perhaps I’ve paused processing life so I could breathe. Perhaps it’s both. Ever been there? You pause processing anything while you’re busy doing everything? The physical pace takes up the emotional push? One day you need to figure out your fight so you pause it all. Life is pretty full in our world, but more importantly, life is pretty full in each person’s world. Do you ever wonder what someone else has truly been asked to cope with? Do you ever wonder if it’s the same thing you’ve been asked to do? Being a human soul often comes with feeling like a human soul, at least in my life. There’s days I can conquer the curve balls, then there’s days I can’t conquer my own socks. I’ve come to believe every human soul can live this life with strength, and every human soul can live this life with courage, but living our best life comes when we tire out enough to crave both and choose to fill up in the well of Christ. Living our best life comes when we use everything we’ve got in ravaging hunger for heaven, but choose to fill up in the well of Christ. And when we need, we push pause so He can re-position our praise, re-position our courage and strength, and re-position our hope. What does a loving God do while He’s re-positioning our life tools? What does a loving God do while we’re pausing? He works on our dreams. He pours compassion on our rest. He re-positions our need for love and fills it up with His. God, re-position my heart. God, re-position me.

A few weeks ago my family was getting food at a local take-out restaurant. I was tired from the day of errands, so waited in the car while my husband and daughter went to pick things up. A car pulled up next to me and an elderly man slowly got out of the car insuring his rickety cane was faithfully holding him up. He wore old green pants, a hefty white beard, and traveled brown shoes. As he began to head for the line of hungry people, I noted the contents of his tattered khaki car. I smiled as I noted a half eaten bag of low-salt toastito chips, a can of cheese-wiz, and an old tattered Bible in the front seat. I’m not sure if he was a bachelor, but I am sure he lived a simple life. I thought to myself “that’s what you need in this life, cheese-wiz and your Bible!” I wondered what his story was and why his Bible was tattered. I wondered how old he was and if he lived alone. And I wondered if he used the mop in the backseat himself or if he had someone help him with day-to-day necessities. Whatever the case, he drew my attention and I felt a tug in looking at his belongings as he ordered his burger and fries. He was old enough to have lived a long life. How many pauses had he taken in his journey? From the looks of his cheese-wiz, he’d paused enough to find joy in simple things. YES. From the looks of his Bible, he’d paused often to be re-positioned in Christ. YES. I found myself praying for him that night and asking to be like him in the journey of my life. No fancy car. No fancy life. No fancy cane. But very fancy walk with God and a used up Bible. God, re-position my heart. God, re-position me.

My dear readers, I love the Lord my God with all my heart and soul. I don’t know what’s next in this life. I don’t know what’s next in my dreams or in this world to come. I don’t know how many pauses I’ll need to take. I just know I need to pause my heart often so I can appreciate yours. I just know I need to pause my heart often so I can absorb His. If you’re saying “I love the Lord my God with all my tired heart and soul,” remember this. You have the strength and courage to live this life. Live it all out. Use everything you’ve got in ravaging hunger for heaven. You’ve got a loving God that will refill it all. But cherish the pauses along the way. Cherish the compassionate rest that happens in the pause. Cherish the enduring love that happens in the pause. Cherish the gentle voice of grace you hear in the pause. Cherish being re-positioned in Christ. God, reposition my heart. God, reposition me.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” Matthew 11:28-30

The neighbors tree slammed our home on Thanksgiving night. Patio destroyed, Family Room beams split, cracked, and fallen down inside the rooftops, sliding door glass strewn all over the carpet and patio, water well pipes dislodged and cracked underground, mangled gutters, shingles, roof, and support posts, and tree branches in every direction. The wind-driven gravity of a giant douglas fir had brought it down with an unmatched thunderous boom. It was the second tree of two connected trees; our neighbor’s home had taken the first tree assault 4 hours before as it pummeled through their roof to the floor of the kitchen. We spent Thanksgiving afternoon knowing we had a matter of time until the second adjoining tree assaulted our home too, and wondering what part of our home would be smashed. We pulled our trailer out safely in the driveway, finished clean up of Thanksgiving food and dishes, and gathered some blankets to bunk in the trailer waiting. Ten minutes after we were safe in the trailer, the tree slammed down. God had held the tree while we prepared and He had boldly delivered us to safety. What do you feel first? Terrified? Shocked? Exhausted of 2020 assaults? Scared? Questioning why this had to happen on Thanksgiving or ever? Grateful God delivered and touched by His timing? Yes to all, my feelings have been everywhere! Tonight my heart envisions Christmas from the rubble.

Is that my King out in the back yard? It looks like He’s pulling a couple beams out of the rubble. Is He taking them to the dump? It doesn’t look like it, why not? They’re devastating and broken and can’t be repaired. He’s picking up a saw and cutting them in small pieces. Doesn’t He know they’re full of splinters, nails, and glass? I keep watching with my tear stained face of exhaustion. It looks like a tornado hit. The Kleenex box is empty and my jeans are pretty dirty, but I keep watching. He’s picking up a hammer now and nailing the small boards together. It looks like He’s making a little animal trough but I’m not sure why He’d be doing that in the middle of my mess. No one needs an animal trough after a tree falls on their home. He just stood up the trough from all the nailing and it looks like He’s picking up pine tree bows for it. I keep watching and wondering what going on as He gently arranges the pine bows inside the little trough. Suddenly He picks the whole thing up and places it back in the middle of the rubble. There’s now a glow coming from this little trough, but I’m not sure why. Is there a piece of broken glass reflecting off the sun? I get up from the couch and walk over to the broken sliding door to peer out. As I get closer, I see it clearly. The King has built a manger. The broken glass and debris is now reflecting off The Son. Tonight my heart envisions Christmas from the rubble.

There’s more people coming to the yard now. Who are they? I haven’t seen them in the neighborhood before. I put my slippers on and grab a coat to go outside and see who they are. Now there’s tons of them coming from every angle in the yard. They’re so brilliant and shiny and I notice their clothes aren’t made of denim like mine. They look more like beautiful whispy robes, certainly not good attire for a dirty pile of rubble. I begin to hear an engulfing sound of majestic music coming from their voices. Suddenly I realize these are a huge legion of heavenly appointed angels and they’re powering up the back yard singing Oh Holy Night. It’s incredible! I watch as they walk to the middle of the shattered pieces and broken roof and encircle the manger the King had built. They’re now standing in the mess blasting in full formation the radiance of Oh Holy Night. I’ve never seen rubble look so weak, it’s usually so selfish with ownership. The King is looking at me now with all His loving being and reaching for my hand to walk in the middle with them. I say yes. Just then He whispers to me “I can build you a manger from any devastation, I love you.” Tonight my heart envisions Christmas in the rubble.

2020 has been a devastation all year. Some have lost homes, lives, livelihoods, normalcy, and hope. Tonight, I pray you envision the Son reflecting off your broken glass and a manger in your rubble. Tonight I pray you hear the voices of heaven’s choir and lift your heart to Oh Holy Night. Jesus has not left you. He has entered your rubble to build His manger. He will always enter your rubble to build His manger. May your tear stained jeans walk onward from here and hold the hand of the King no matter where life takes you. Go in strength. Go in hope. Go with Jesus. Christmas from the rubble is often where the broken glass glistens off the Son the very most. Christmas from the rubble is often where the most beautiful stories are formed for your life. Merry Christmas child of the King.

“Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.” Matthew 1:23

I got off work late today and came home to my family making soup and sandwiches for supper. Top Ramen for my daughter, canned split pea for my husband, and canned tomatoe basil for me. Toasted bread, lettuce, tomatoes, fried egg, and stripple sandwiches. Simple and delicious. Soup and sandwiches. Somehow on this Thursday night, the simple was perfect. The simple was comforting. And the simple filled the need.

I so often wish for a “soup and sandwich” life. Something that fills the hunger and the soul. I so often find myself pushing through another tough event or plowing through the last tough time more than feeling empowered to beat them. It’s easy to get tired isn’t it. And I wonder how to feel the peace of God during it. You can be strong or weak in faith and that question will tug at you at one moment or another. It’s the hills and valley’s of life. How do I feel the peace of God whether I’m on a hill empowered with positivity or in a valley pushing through pain? The Lord says to rest the life ON Him and the heart WITH Him. He beckons us to let Him have our fears and trust the robe of refuge. Every fiber in my being wants to tap into that peace release and every corner of my heart wants to be rescued from the un-simple. Yes please, sign me up! I long for peace and I certainly pray for it whether on the hills or in the valleys.

Here’s the catch. It’s often easier said than done. Here’s another catch. The closer we get to Resurrection Day, the farther the peace potential feels. The nation is absolutely roaring. The lands are churning with fires and climate change and earthly abuse. The people are writhing with distress and divide. Hearts are tried and tired and tangled. Peace is craved by all, but cultivated by few. Now go deeper. There’s an intense battle moving about. The devil is happy with pain, but unhappy with losing. And God is holy and winning and ready to rescue. It’s a big battle. And somewhere in there, there’s you. You with the beauty of hope and the strive for dreaming and becoming something better. You, the one that doesn’t want it to be a mess. You, the one that’s had enough of decay attitudes and unpeaceful emotions. You, the one screaming for peace. How can we take it all in? How can we take it all on? And how can we not take it all into our own walk with God? It’s easy to be mad at the devil. He’s a jerk. It’s not easy to be un-mad at God when it all feels too much. He’s the Savior and we want the saving action. I long for peace. I long for “soup and sandwich” peace, love, and life.

Here’s what I’m learning dear readers. As much as I cry and crave and call for peace, Jesus cries and craves and calls for me. He knows this hurts. He knows this life is ruining peace. He knows this fight is getting confusing and complicated. So He’s going after me. I may have the middle of the fight emotions, but He’s in the middle of the fight winning me. Winning, won, done. When I’m low or out of peace, my soul can trust He’s not low or out of winning me. He’s not low or out of winning you. His emotions are everywhere too. He’s raging with love and strife for you. He’s stronger than ever with the heavenly sword moving heaven and earth to end the battle.

Are you out of peace? Me too. What’s The Heavenly Trinity doing about it? Winning you. Wholly and completely and fully winning you. The peace will come. The peace will melt our very souls when we at last fly through the gate. The peace will wash over our face with unbridled emotion when we fall in the arms of Jesus. And I believe the tears of relief will not just be ours. I believe the tears of relief will also be falling from the eyes of our Savior and King. He loves us. He loves us so so much. Here’s the most important catch. Perhaps our peace release comes from being won and loved by the reigning Savior instead of overcoming a heavenly battle not meant for us. Breathe peace this side of heaven tonight because you are loved. Lovingly won, lovingly loved. Someday, I’ll sit by candle light and serve Him a bowl of soup with a sandwich and tell Him I love Him back. Peace.

“May His face shine upon you and give YOU Peace.” Numbers 6:26

Today. Salvation Army brought all evacuees lunch at the hotel today. Ever eaten a meal from a rescue group? Napa Christian Academy told us they’re providing supper for a week, the tables have pumpkins and white lights. Ever eaten a free and homemade meal for a week because you’re helpless? The hotel slipped a note under the door tonight, hand signed by employees to let us know they care. Hand signed. I was able to do laundry, the smell of fresh clothes was perfect. Ever had your giddy moment be washing your jeans? And lastly, the highlight! I was so so excited to be able to minister to Angwin Fire Department with providing dinner tonight. It meant so much to me to do that.

Evacuation. It’s tear-jerking to receive and give basic humanity and love in such a time as this. When all you can do is the minimum basics of living, and when all you can do is wait and pray and find a way to do life in the meantime, you learn a lot. My biggest “learn” is this: feeling grace and giving grace are in the neediest places and so is Jesus Christ. “Basic” and “fear” and “worry” are amazingly hard to experience, but GRACE is truly incredible. Don’t give up in the middle of this horrific fire. Grace will reign. From my trenches to yours, may God’s grace shine all through your spirit tonight no matter what. I’m praying for all of us. God bless, nite nite.

Be brave. Be fearless. You are never alone.” – Joshua 1:9. 

I’m working one of the most demanding stretches of my life. I leave the house with the sunrise and leave the office with the moonrise. Somewhere in there I eat a little and sleep a little. Today I ate three Mint Milano cookies for brunch and a sandwich for dinner. I think my fingers typed their cartilage down to paper thin wafers. And I’m pretty sure I don’t remember my whole name. I’m running on exhausted fumes. I’m absolutely certain God is running me on mental strength and physical ability. I’ve definitely ordered up a plate of it from Him right now. My team and I are pushing strong for students and we’re giving it every single thing we have. All the way.

School readiness is different this Fall. Serving students is normally busy this time of year, full of energy and drive to get them all ready to go. I’ve loved the excitement of it every year and done it for Kindergarten to college. It’s such a buzz to kick off a year and I love my career! But this year, this unprecedented crazy year, getting ready for the year demands a higher caliber. It demands a higher everything. Not only do I feel the need to answer student preparation, but I feel the call of doing it with a heaping dose of encouragement to them. I so much want them to feel empowered with encouragement. Here’s the higher caliber part. You have to keep the encouragement ramped up while doing extra protocol, adjusted navigation, Pandemic crisis and fire evacuation. The business part doesn’t stop for you to encourage, so you encourage in the middle of it. The adjustments don’t stop, so you encourage in the middle of them. The new way of life isn’t going back to the old normal, so you encourage in the middle of it anyway. Your give tank hasn’t grown so you ask more of it anyway. You have to keep encouragement on top and everything else rolling under it. It’s like a persevering duck on the water and his little webbed feet are paddling like crazy under the surface of the water. All the way.

I had a student say to me today “thank you for your kind words of encouragement, you have no idea what they mean right now.” They’re right, I don’t know what they mean for them, but I know there’s never too much compassion and never too much hope-planting. I went back to my office unsure whether to lose it over his words or lose it over the stress of papers and projects everywhere. Either way, losing it was going to happen. That’s life right now. For all of us. All the way.

Where’s the caliber in losing it? Where’s the caliber in doing a weird life right now and wondering how to answer it? I think the answer might be in the sunrise and moonrise. I think the answer might be “all the way,” not “in the way.” The strains of life often feel in the way of God’s strength in our body. The differences of life often feel in the way of normal and able. But God hasn’t left us. God hasn’t left life. God hasn’t left our families. God hasn’t left the papers and projects. God hasn’t left the overwhelmed tears or the tired faith. God hasn’t left the dreams and desires of His students. Go all the way my dear readers. But go all the way as human beings. Dependent, authentic, honest, and roughed up. You’re in the most demanding era of your life. Let God be God from sunrise to moonrise. You may not go all the way how you planned, but you’ll go all the way within grace and love. All the way to the gate.”

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9

“Be strong. Be brave. Be fearless. You are never alone.” – Joshua 1:9 

Lately I’ve gotten inspired to use my camera again. Not an iPhone camera where convenience and ease abounds, but my beautiful Nikon camera with a zoom lens, variety of technical settings, and a strap that makes you feel like you’re taking a picture with the poise a life-moment deserves. I think this re-ignited love might be coming from my inspiring nephew who takes his passion for photography and creates the most amazing photos I’ve seen. He captures the full essence of his muse and brags little about his result. He does it for joy. He does it to create quality and technically intact products. And he does it because he loves the challenge of artistry through the lenses. I love that!

This past week I took my camera to the coast when we went for a mini vacay day. Tiburon is always so beautiful and we frequently enjoy our little picnic spot on the bay. I always enjoy the little sea lions that pop their silky wet heads up here and there, and the tiny sailboats that almost tip over the crew while the big fancy yachts go by watching it. I frequently get stuck sparkle-staring as I watch the sun beams dance on the top of the sea. They’re so beautiful the way they glisten about. I took photos of it all, or at least tried. I need lens lessons and capture cues from my nephew. As we spent the day away this week, the late afternoon fog began to wisp and roll over the San Francisco skyline across from us and cover the city. Soon the vast expanse of the Golden Gate Bridge was out of view and we could no longer see “The Gate.”

There are times in this life faith is pretty tough. The fog rolls in and covers our view of the gate. The fog rolls in and we pack up and head out. It gets cold and the sparkles and sea lions are replaced with a different vibe so we stop gazing and start gnashing. Without realizing it, we often become the fog itself. We can’t move ourselves out of the way so we miss the beauty around us. We can’t move life out of the way so we stop seeing the beauty in Christ. Faith fog.

Dear readers and faith-foggers, the Creator loves you. I don’t know how loved or troubled you feel, but He does. With all His divinity, He does and He dearly loves you. Dearly and authentically and compassionately loves you. No, you won’t always be able to see the whole view. You won’t always be able to spend a lifetime in long glistening afternoons of peace. You won’t always be fog-free when you’re trying to see “The Gate.” But I believe with all my heart we bear the Creators love inside. We hold His joy inside. We hold His artistry and beauty inside. We are full of His grace. Wherever we go, whatever happens along the way, and however we’re able to do life, Our Creator cares deeply about it. I said a silent prayer out at the sometimes-beautiful and sometimes-foggy sea. “Lord, help me remember your story is so far from over. Help me remember the Son glistens on me as vast as the open sea when I leave this place today.”

“The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”  Zephaniah 3:17

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”   Jeremiah 29:11

I’m sitting outside the surgery center today. My dad is somewhere in the building on the OR table getting a painful torn rotator cuff put back together. I don’t want him to go it alone and this is the only way I can keep watch with him until the nurse tells me he’s okay and out.

“Rapid Response 3 North!” just got blasted out 3 times through the speaker system from the main hospital next door. My mind begins the instant image of all medical personnel running down hospital halls towards the life in peril. Crash carts pushing, equipment barreled into action, people colliding out of the way, life saving in progress by all those well trained to do it. There’s one goal. To save somebody. To deploy their knowledge and empty their priorities to hurriedly help someone in trouble. It’s a powerful moment. It’s a human moment and it’s a miracle-in-motion moment. I know it well and I know the raw dependence the family feels. I hope today they’ll look in the eyes of their loved one again.

“Rapid Response 3 North!” Do you realize that’s the right call? Do you realize how powerful it is to call the Divine Trinity of Heaven when life rips into response mode? Do you realize when The Godhead hears that call they deploy every legion of angels in the heavenly courts and rush them to your side? Talk about a power packed moment! Humanity meets the heavenly team! As I sit here waiting for another medical concern to close, the sounds of Reach helicopters, birds, transport carts, car doors, and “she’s ready for pick-up” echoing around me, I am impassioned to say we can sound the call for Christ at any moment or every moment. And we should. Words or no words, we can sound the call. Messed up or still messed up, we can sound the siren. Never-believed or permanent baby-step believer, we can sound the need. Angry human or avoiding human, we can sound the heavenly horn. The Godhead is ours. Pursuing us, watching over us, and moving everywhere on behalf of us. He’s the healer of the falling land. He’s the launcher of amazing love. He’s the all-powerful, unshakeable, immovable Maker of grace. You have a Godhead team in this world. You. They rule the universe deploying every majestic team of angels to human lives in peril the world over. Why? Because they don’t want us to go it alone.

“Be still and know that I am God.”  Psalm 46:10

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me.” John 14:1

What does it mean to be brave?  What does it mean to get behind your bravery and walk?  When I was young, bravery meant to ride a bike without training wheels or say something out loud in First Grade.  Blond curls, knees knocking, answer recited, recess please.  Later being brave meant to hold a boys hand for the first time or drive myself somewhere I’d never been, and again, say something out loud in class, only this time in front of teen peers.  Brown curls, heart and knees knocking, opinion recited, recess please.  Today, being brave is confusing to me.  Sometimes bravery is facing the times we live, but other times, bravery feels like doing something about the times we live.  And yet again, being brave is saying something out loud in class; the classroom being life and the “out loud” being WHAT I want to stand for and WHO I want to stand for.  Graying straight hair, prayer knocking every day, learning in full motion, heaven’s recess please.  What does it mean to get behind your bravery and walk?  I believe the real question is what does it mean to realize you need to walk in your own heart?  It’s one powerful walk.  Walking Lives Matter.

Today I walked with my community in stance and truth for Black Lives Matter.  We started at one end of town and walked to the other.  We walked for an end to racism, we walked for a beginning of awareness, we walked for those we know and love, and we walked as God’s beautifully diverse creation.  It moved me deeply, but in more ways than one.  I’ve walked in “Light The Night” for Cancer lives before and it too moved me deeply, but I’ve never walked in change before.  I tearfully wrote “Black Lives Matter” on my shirt last night as I realized the need I felt to walk and talk in “class.”  I humbly dressed in it this morning ready to take the steps to show the willingness and learning I felt. I proudly wore it with my community to be a voice of love, and yes with everything knocking in my body.  Why?  Because for me, the brave part was not the walking outside.  It was the walking inside my heart.  This walk was showing me more than I expected.  This walk was showing me walking matters when something needs to change inside me.  That’s a powerful moment to go through when the walk answers more than reason you’re standing for.  There’s so much I need to walk for in my own heart.  There’s so much refining I need to face with contrition, honesty, and difference.  You can live a lot of days and not realize your need to walk for your “stuff.”  You can live a lot of life without deciding WHAT you’re walking for or WHO you’re walking for.  When the opportunity comes to show you, the need comes to refine you.  It’s one powerful walk.  Walking Lives Matter.

What do you need to walk for?  What do you need to tearfully write on your shirt and walk to the cross with?   “Forgiveness Matters.”  “Pride Doesn’t Matter.”  “Worthy Matters.”  “Worth Doesn’t Matter.”  “God Is Foreign.”  “I Don’t Want God To Be Foreign.”  For me, it starts in First Grade again. I need to head up to calvary with “I Need To Walk” blazing on my shirt and awakening my heart.  It’s soaking that powerful moment into my soul and growing from there.  It’s God revealing His love in what I can be when I feel the need to walk. There’s a different shirt for each of us.  There’s a different way to face the moment for each of us.  But bravery is truly at its core.  Not brave enough to walk, but brave enough to admit the need to walk in the direction of the cross of Christ.  It’s one powerful walk.  Walking Lives Matter. 

“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”  Psalm 139:23

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”  Micah 6:8

We authors like to hook a word and deliver it to our readers with power and sustainability.  We like to be poignant and punctual, and most of all a voice for our passion.  Let me be the first to say I’ve been tripping over my words to fully deliver the passionate peace we so desperately hunger for today.  Peace in the land, peace in the people, peace in the lives.  It’s tough to sort that degree of need into nice little semantics.  It’s tough to deliver that kind of gravity to an embattled people.  There’s a land mine of emotions flooding my soul lately and new realities every morning.  Life feels dramatic and traumatic.  It’s sad and it’s mad.  It’s sobering and surreal.  Most of all it’s big.  Life is unprecedented.  So is God. 

I’ve been thinking non-stop about what our world is going through and what our people are going through.  So many lands and lives are in pain in one way or another.  It’s rough.  I’ve come to a powerful question in my mind.  How do we use the lifetimes we’re given?  It seems this question is becoming just as big as the unprecedented times we live.  How do we use the lifetimes we’re given within the circumstances and choices we’re given?  We face COVID, racism, religious liberty, earthquakes, flooding in poverty-stricken lands, sex-trafficking, corporate corruption, depression, recession, political warfare, international unrest, and familial divides.  We face adversity in the war of sin versus salvation, and we face confusion between past and future generations of all eras.  That’s a lot for the human spirit.  Life isn’t just a simple lifetime we’re given to spend.  It isn’t a span of years to pick and choose from a buffet of desirable realities and freely pass on the undesirable ones.  How I wish we could go after our dreams and find worth and happiness within our ideal needs for them.  How I wish we could feel loved without first working so hard to believe it.  There’s learning the easy way and learning the hard way, but most of all, there’s a planet of mankind doing it next to us with different sets of life nesting in their time.  We’re a people striving through it all.  But are we a people striving for the heart of God through it all?  It’s perhaps not a tangible solution for many, but it is a triumphant one for all.  Chasing the heart of God in the middle of very muddled and mangled times.  Chasing the heart of God for a lifetime.  Life is unprecedented.  So is God. 

I heard a comment the other day that stuck with me for some reason.  “Can I see what that looks like?”   Though it had nothing to do with emotion or current events, the comment went straight inside like an arrow of compassion to the core of my soul.  In the middle of all this worldly mayhem, I stopped cold and thought, “can I see what it looks like if we chase the heart of God?”  Life is unprecedented.  So is God. 

I started this piece yearning to deliver adequate words of peace to an embattled people.  I’m ending it moved with grit that it isn’t just emotional peace we need to live this side of heaven, but rather the urgent chase for the heart of God.  A God on the throne of amazing grace.  A God who has the power to split the roaring seas and walk among roaring lions.  A God who has the divinity to demolish sin’s arresting hold and the divinity to open heaven’s beauty to expose forever glory. A God who loves without boundary and plans without pause.  A reigning God forever for us and never against us.  This isn’t just poetic writing.  This is bold reality just as defining as your worldly struggles, only much more dominant and delivering. This is God in your life.  This is God in a lifetime.  My dear readers, life is roaring.  We need our God of unstoppable love to lead it.  He can roar back at sin and win.  He already did.  We need His heart to spend our lifetime persevering with love and legacy.  If we could chase the heart of God, I believe we could see what it looks like to claim the heart of God.  Stand up and chase the change.  May peace and power collide in your life.  Life is unprecedented.  So is God. 

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”   1 Cor. 13:13

Witnessing is not always easy. It always feels right, but there’s times it feels really tough. Why? Because when things like COVID-19 change so much about our lives, it changes our energy and challenges our strength. At least for me. It seems we use the “full throttle-I can power through” strength faster and the marathon positivity begins to wain and strain this far in the race. You have to look harder to find the trust and faith in God when sin takes hold this tight. You have to try harder to not give in to the weariness and you have to find more spirit to use. You have to pray more often for love so you can have some to give out. And you have to keep pulling at every shred of encouragement you can find because it matters. A silly joke, a really dumb sitcom, a box of fattening filling ANYTHING, or a powerful faith quote or song that drives you to tears of gratefulness. Or tears of meltdown. I’ve done both. A lot. It’s a lot of “you have to’s” and “trying.” I’ve decided its all ok and part of how I’m navigating the call to crazy. Can you relate?

We’re pulling each other through piece by updated piece. We’re finding new ways old thought by new thought. We’re relating and tweaking everything from money to milk. And we’re stopping to rest when it’s too much for that hour and the mask stinks. Is this what witnessing is? Is it combining all this for each other and living with the faith and strength we wake up with that day. Is it knowing at the end of that song that we really do love our God and fall to our knees for His help. I believe with all my heart it is. Why? Because when a weary soul still speaks of God, knees bent in the eye of the storm, it can be the most powerful time in a persons life. For them and all those around them.

Authenticity is at its peak and God is still in the sentence. God is still in the soul. God is. God is. My dear readers, this time in the world is hard. We all find it harder and harder. If I can witness to you this Friday night, I would say from one soldier to another, from one set of weary bent knees and bowed head to another, God is on His way. We won’t find rational when the winds shift and the gate begins to flex. The End Times are not rational. They are not reasonable or fixable. They do not come with feelings of comfort and normalcy. But they do come with Jesus Christ making it all right again. They do come with a shepherd taking us through every embattled path. I don’t find it easy to keep strength up. I don’t find it easy to be in the unknown of so many aspects. I have to look harder for God right now. I’m with you and all the weary feelings. But I’m looking for the King’s robe and I’m looking for His call and I know I’m not out of His sight. He’s not looking harder for me. His eye is on the sparrow. His eye is on you. I believe we are the generation called to be alive when He comes. I believe we are the generation He’ll help every step of the way. And as we work harder to witness to each other, I believe we’re on our way to witnessing the greatest event of all time. The very coming of Christ himself. The face of Jesus. The day when the skies open up and the grounds uproot and it’s over. Power up tonight, we’re on our way to heaven’s gates. Weary yes, but winning? More than winners, the CALLED.

“Though the mountains may be removed and the hills may be shaken, My loving devotion will not depart from you, and My covenant of peace will not be broken,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you.”  Revelation 6:14

Dear family of everywhere and every human soul. We’ve been through so much together. We’ve toiled and served and fought for joy. We’ve huddled and argued and given of our guts and time. We’ve loved and lost and won and, most of all, we’ve lived this side of heaven. It’s a full world and we’re a traversing family.

We’re going to make it the rest of the way. We’re going to make it until we share the shores of heaven and climb the highest waterfall. Dear family, we’re going to make it even if we’re crawling through the gate and falling in a heap in Jesus arms. We’re His heap. We’re going to make it even if we use every ounce of life he gave us to do it. Dear family, I don’t know why we’re asked to navigate COVID or war or starvation or hatred. I don’t know why Jesus is waiting so very long or why He hasn’t pushed the devil off the planet yet. I don’t know why He hasn’t rained pure joy and hope down in physical droplets to our homes or why He hasn’t made it easier to understand why faith is muddy sometimes. I just know Jesus has holes and I just know why He has holes. Us. The holes are a big deal.  The holes are holy.  I love the hole-holder. 

Dear family, breathe and release your answers. Breathe and release your unknowns. Breathe and release your “but’s”. Breathe for the holes. It’s Friday night and there’s nothing more you’re assigned to today. Dear family, one day in the very near future, we’ll be hiking the trails of heaven and the sun will set on all our troubles. The joy will be in waterfall cascades and the guy with the holes will be splashing you with pure water of life. Remember who’s son you are, remember who’s daughter you are, and breathe. Happy Sabbath from Lamb Lines. 

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  John 3:16

“UNPRECEDENTED HONESTY” I wish I knew how to make Jesus’ love fly off the shelves like toilet paper and hand sanitizer. I wish I knew how to make Jesus’ healing touch be the headline story on every network and the power push for everyone to implement social closeness to each other and Him. But in my beautiful wishes, the honest truth is I’m also asking Jesus the un-beautiful reality of “how much more?!”

What unexpected curve is next to navigate? How many more unprecedented events will rattle our nerves? You can’t order more nerves on Amazon prime or purchase more stress barricades at the hardware. The shake-ups and break-ups of our world are on so many levels now. Panic, preparing, and fatigue are all fighting for the frontline and souls are having trouble resting in Christ Jesus. They’re having trouble resting at all! How much longer can we sustain rushing and rallying for the next assault on our lives? How much longer ‘til the good Lord takes us out of here and sets our feet on soothing majestic ground? Oh to sit on those glassy sparkly shores and breathe the purity of heaven’s rest.

My dear readers, it’s getting tough, it’s getting old, and it’s getting more. In these times when we’re somewhere between wondering about God, questioning God, and needing to know there is a God, it’s my belief this is where we have to be the most honest with God than we’ve ever been before. Unprecedented honesty for unprecedented times. This is where we say “God, what’s happening to us?” This is where we say “God, we’re scared and stressed and we don’t like it.” This is where we say “God, this isn’t easy what you’re allowing and we’re getting tired of doing the trying-hard thing.” This is also where we hear Him say “Son, Daughter, I don’t like it either and I will make a way for you, I’m so glad you told me.”

You see, I’ve learned you can’t sugar coat a question to God. I’ve learned you can’t sugar coat a real prayer. It’s been a journey to figure that out and I’m still journeying. But one thing I feel is that if I’m to invite God and choose God, then I must invite and choose Him as me. Just me. Not fake me. Not public me. Not convenient or faithful me. Not hidden or held back me. Just me where I’m at with a desire to do God. Be “just you!” If you’re asking God how much more coronavirus, calamity, financial, political, disaster, death, or crime is within our time, that’s okay. If you’re wishing His love would fly off the shelves and get down here in a tangible “fix this!” way, that’s okay. If you’re wishing you had a consensus on how you feel about God’s action or seeming inaction, that’s okay. Have unprecedented honesty in these unprecedented times in your heart.

My dear readers, He is alive. He is aware. He is yours. His blood flew off the shelves of heaven and showed up in our emergency. It still is. When it’s getting tough, reach out and tell God it’s getting tough. I believe with all my heart He’s about to clean this place out of all God’s people and fly us up out of here. I believe with all my heart we have what we need to face panic with peace. We have Jesus. Maybe it’s tough to believe in this reality, but it’s still true. We have Jesus. Maybe it’s tough to believe when we feel in and out of faith and facts, but it’s still true. We have Jesus. Unprecedented honesty in unprecedented times, He’s alive and He loves you. It is well with my soul. Jesus.

“Peace be still.”  Mark 4:39

I had another blog I was mulling, but tonight I found out my neighbor passed away. The news brought quietness to my mood and thoughts to my spirit. Her name was Mary. Mary always enjoyed looking across the street at our house and seeing the lights on. She said it brought her relief and ease, like someone was home and caring if she needed help. She was right. One afternoon she called and asked if I’d come over because she had something important to give me. I was greeted at the door with a bouquet of roses from her beautiful bushes. She said it was about to get windy and she wanted her roses safely adorning my table instead of wasted and whisped away in the wind she hated. I noted a big bouquet on her kitchen counter too and had fun sharing in her important joy of safe roses. Mary loved our Christmas tree in the window each year and loved our dog watching the world from atop the couch. This past Christmas, we hung lights outside the house and I secretly left them on extra long each night just for Mary. I knew she was house-bound and couldn’t get outside to see her beautiful roses or get the paper on the driveway. I hoped the lights would cheer this aging night owl and hoped they’d bring her love. She passed away just before the new year and I can only cherish the thought the lights were one of her last joys. I can only cherish the thought the face of Jesus will be her first joy now!

Leaving the lights on. It’s become a bigger meaning for me tonight. I wonder if we know how big it is to leave the lights on for another’s life. I wonder if we realize shining light warms a heart that might be dying inside, brings a moment of hope through a window, and creates something pretty for a tired spirit. It’s a big deal. And getting bigger by the second in our world. For everyone. There are times in my life I don’t feel light. There are other times I do. I’m human, humble, and heaven-hungry just like you. Life is something I often look to the stars about and wonder about the lights of heaven. Crave the lights of heaven. The need for encouragement in this life is so real. The need for beautiful caring lights is so real. We need to know someone is home. So it’s on my mind tonight to shine lights for the neighbors of my life and ask Jesus to ricochet His glory throughout the hearts and homes. Throughout the needs and through the craving people. For each Mary who needs something pretty to see. For each life that craves something hopeful to feel. And for each soul that hungers for something caring to push them through this planet.

This Friday night, leave the lights on. Leave them on extra long. Light up your love. They’ll see Jesus is home. And if you’re in the middle of a human, humble, and heaven-hungry time in your life, warm up tonight in the comfort that Jesus has glory lighting up your desires and dreams and discouragements because He loves you and understands all of it. Every “all of it” you’re dealing with. He’s home lights blazing. Happy Friday Night from Lamb Lines Blog. 🌹🌟🏠

“For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever.”  1 Thessalonians 4:16-17

What if you’re not the one lost sheep? What if you’re the 29th sheep, the 46th, 69th, or 83rd? What if you’re one of the 99 safe in the fold, but need more of God’s attention? Life seems bumpy, but generally okay, and you’re keeping up for the most part. You don’t really qualify as lost or outside, but don’t really feel inside either. You haven’t gone off the deep end or wrecked your life in some catastrophic way, but life is hard just the same and you feel lost at times. Not to mention it’s been awhile since you and the shepherd swapped sin for saving prayers and you’re not sure if He’s noticed the lapse since there’s overgrown thickets straining His earth. Do you matter?

I saw a woman today leaving the restroom as I was walking in. She looked put together in fashion, shopping list in hand, and normal as any other shopper headed for the grocery carts. Except she was crying on her way out of the restroom. She looked out of energy on a Friday afternoon, but not done with errands. Have you ever needed to sit in a bathroom stall for a sec before continuing to push a cart full of life? She looked tired. Maybe she wasn’t lost like the one sheep, but maybe she was an awfully tired number 29, 46, 69, or 83rd on a Friday afternoon. I believe Jesus calls her the ONE. Why? Because she was lost in fatigue. I believe He calls each of us the ONE. Why? Because we’re lost in ways we don’t even see.  I believe He goes out everyday calling in pursuit of us to be our friend, comfort, help, and Savior. Why? Because we’re His kids and finding us every single day in every single situation is what a Savior does. From manger to Messiah. From Christmas to Christ. From heaven to earth. It’s you He’s rescuing.

I wanted to reach out and tell the restroom lady that she’s a ONE. I wanted to reach out and tell her there was no scale for how lost or tired you have to be for Jesus to come to your thicket and pull you to His robe. I wanted to hug her and tell her He saw her and was on His way to rescue her to amazing grace and saving peace beyond a public bathroom. In this time of year, in this season of CHRISTmas when a Savior was born and a star was hung, may you feel the Holy Night soothing your soul. No matter what’s okay or not okay, may you know you are the ONE in His rescue. May you know it’s never been too long and you’re never just a number in a fold. You’re a child of the King. A sheep of the Shepherd. A soul in the Savior’s call. ONE lost, ONE seen, ONE saved.  ONE.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  John 3:16

“And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.” Luke 15:6

It’s not often I’ve hosted Thanksgiving for my family. As my daughter and I set our table tonight, I found myself thinking about what being a hostess really is. Is it setting this table and placing a name at each setting just for that life? Is it cooking the favorite food of that life just so they feel “Thanksgiving-y?” Is it smiling at each life and asking what I can do to make their day special? Or is it in the invitation to come? Maybe it’s all of that. But I think the simplicity of peace is where I want to place my hostessing this Thanksgiving. This year has been really really full in my life and I’ve craved simplicity more. I wonder if we all feel that way. I wonder if we all could use some peace; genuine lung-filling, heart-healthy, full-releasing peace. I hope this Thanksgiving, my home will be a place where my family can find that. It’s the theme I’ve chosen; china dishes out the door, paper plates that say “peace” placed for each setting and each life. (And let’s be honest, clean up is more peaceful when one uses paper plates! It’s how I’ve bridged the Mary Martha dilemma I hound myself with!) I bet God’s table abounds with heavenly beauty. I bet simplicity spills out everywhere. I bet His theme is HOME. You are invited, you have a place setting, you are loved. God is hosting peace.

“The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face shine upon you,
And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace.”  Numbers 6:24

Copyright 2019  All rights reserved by Heather VandenHoven

What’s the big deal about “more?” Earn more money, spend more time, be more positive, do more to help, give more to the cause, be more organized, pull more hours out of the day, listen more, buy more, plan more, be more patient, be more to your kids, have your kids be more to you, eat more veggies, work more hours, practice more, get more likes, laughs, or loves on social media, relax more, go on more vacations, understand more, limit more, speak up more, read more, budget more, diet more, play more with the dog, take more classes, smile more, exercise more, and my personal favorite, get more sleep. Seriously. I’ll get right on that as soon as I finish more laughing.  Or melting down from all the “more” shopping about myself.

It’s almost Christmas and the “mores” explode this season. More deals and bags combine with more offers and open hours. “We’re open longer with more options so you can do more.” I’m a season lover just like anyone, but I’m a “look-at-the-lights and drink-hot cocoa” kind of girl. And Christmas music! I struggle with the mores. I struggle with the commercial-more versus the beloved-Jesus-more world war of the season. I’m guessing Jesus struggles too. And I’m guessing he’s a big hot cocoa and carols fan for us tired folk.

The other day I was in a store line and a small child was arching her little body in the front seat of the cart. She was full on screaming and full on having a hissy fit almost launching herself out of the cart and onto the concrete floor. Her long blond hair was sticking to her tears, snot, and sweat and her face was beat red. At one point she was kicking so hard her little shoe flicked off. I honestly worried her scream and strain would leave her passed out from the intensity. It was in a word, crazy. Why?  Her mom wouldn’t buy her more. She had to choose only one princess doll. More was not an option and mom remained calm and unwavering about that fact. “You may choose one or none Molly.” What happens when “choose one” is unwavering to “more?” Increased anger and arching, and the news there would be nothing bought because of it. The cart went out the door with Molly in it and she was promised a nap and punishment when she got home, doll-less. My heart went out to the mother and I inwardly prayed for her strength. It’s hard to teach what more really truly is and isn’t. My heart went out to the child who didn’t know the special value in having more mother than she could ever dream of.

More. What’s the goal? What is or isn’t it truly? If the cart is full of everything we want to be or want to have, will we be less prone to hissy fits at ourselves? Or hissy fits at each other? Or God? I suppose it depends on what the “more” truly is. Better life or bigger life? Filling life or fulfilling life? I don’t have the answers for us. I want all the good mores and none of the destructive ones. I want goals, but not gavels on my life. I’m tired. So most of all, I want to answer what Christ made me to be. Just that alone.  More-less.

Where does that put us? You can’t be more child of God. You can’t be more loved. You can’t be more died for. If you want to be more of something, tell God what more’s you need help with in your life and let Him be the parent. You’ll have more in a Savior than you could ever dream of.   Don’t continue “more” shopping on your own.  You’ll eventually be sold out of yourself.  Don’t continue “more” shopping in the world.  They’re already sold out.  You were meant to refine inside God’s abiding love for you.  You were meant to be a complete version of you inside God’s leading promise for you.  Earlier I mentioned I love Christmas music. The most beautiful exquisite Christmas song in my eyes is Oh Holy Night. Dear Child of God reading these lines, “Oh Holy Night” is His idea of “more” for you. He came for you. You can’t be more God’s than you are. You can’t be more adored and loved and wanted. If you have some more’s you dream of being, ask for His help to be you. Not “more” you. God’s you. Beautiful, strong, loving God’s you.

Molly could choose one or none. I’d rather choose one “more with God” than a thousand more’s without Him. The Holy night is for you.  You are loved.

Jesus.

“Dear Jesus.  Please take over the “more” shopping in my life.  I’m so tired and I’ve had a few hissy fits in the middle of the store.  I’ve had a few hissy fits at you.  I’m so sorry I do that Lord. I yearn to be beautiful, refined, and peaceful within your abiding love.  I can’t do more on my own and I don’t want to do more on my own.  Please sort out my mess of “more’s” and get rid of what I don’t need to carry.  Refine me Lord.  Thank you with all my heart for the Holy night Jesus.  You’re more than I could ever dream of.  Oh and Jesus, I can’t wait to see you.  I could use more hugs from you.  That’s a good “more” huh?”    

Oh Holy Night composed by Adolphe Adam in 1847.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the word “shame” lately.  Pulling it apart, thinking about those five letters yanking so much power when strung together, and mulling over why we feel shame in the breath of our own lungs and why we put it in the breath of someone else’s.  What a terrible word.  Who wants to focus on something so negative.  But we do at times.  Shame.  I can think of few other words that rival as lowly a sentiment as “shame.”  I can think of few other piercing emotions that waste a worthy child of God like tears spent in shame.  I can think of no hurting attitude more popularly chosen than shaming to win over someone else and watching them lose under something else.  Shame.  How utterly ugly.  Are you familiar with it?  Is it your go-to or is it your run-from?  What is it about shame that melts us away and steals value with such strong effect?  I really don’t know.  I just know it’s one of the devil’s biggest tools.  Perhaps it’s one of the Savior’s biggest conquests.  “How wide and how deep and how long is the Savior’s love for us that we should be called children of God.”

I’ve been mulling this piece for a couple weeks with the desire to put grip in it, yet all that mulling didn’t capture the heart of the piece as much as the person I met today.  They left an impression I won’t soon forget and they are the reason I finally put pen to paper.  They are the reason Jesus wants to rescue and restore so achingly bad.  They are the reason the force of shame must turn to the force of love in this world.  It was an image of defeat.  Eyes watery. Face drawn.  Smile not even a flicker or choice.  Gait slumped.  Care dumped.  And most of all, surrendered to any notable worth.  There was not a single light in this person’s eyes and not a single word that sought help.  They had been victim to the ugliness of shame.  Who would level someone to despair like that?  Did they see the aftermath of their handiwork?  Did they see what they stole from someone’s heart?  Did they realize what they replaced it with?  I can’t go into any detail because I told them I wouldn’t, but I can tell you this.  It was horrible and I never want to demolish someone like that.  This person was a stranger to me, but held my compassion and ache within seconds in the middle of the grocery store.  What an unthreatening place the cereal aisle can be and how God-like of God to schedule ministry in such a basic location.  I wanted to love it all away and restore their value, but sometimes loving in the midst of shame is more important than wanting to fix it.  I needed to realize that.  Quick.  Sometimes loving one through their hurt is more meaningful than loving one out of their hurt.  They can’t un-shame at that moment like you want them too.  They can only fall into a heap with someone who doesn’t believe in their shame, but believes in being there in the cereal aisle through it.  The devil sells shame so flawlessly and ferociously and the people don’t need more blinders to their worth.  They need reminders of their worth.  We have too many people walking around with shame shoulders.  Have you seen them too?  Are they the ones in the mirror?  Genuine embarrassment or inadequacy or littleness so deep you can’t lift them with anything?  It will take a long time for life to undo the writhing shame of the person I met today.  But that’s where Jesus lives so that’s where my prayers went. Lord God, fix this.  This is wrong.  Lord God, fix the shamer and the shamed.  They are beautiful.  Lord God, be the Lord God.  You are compassionate.  “How wide and how deep and how long is the Savior’s love that we should be called children of God.” 

When I was a little girl, I had horrible crooked ugly teeth and I shamingly never smiled for a camera for years.  When I was an adolescent, I was lonely and shamingly never felt chosen.  Rejection is rough, but believing you’re the reason is rougher.  When I was a young adult, I dated someone who made bets on me with his friends.  Though he lost the bet, the girl, and the love, my shame is what I believed.  When I was a college student, a professor told me I didn’t have what it took to make it and I shamingly believed.  That shame changed my life.  When I was an adult, a friend used to use me a lot as the butt of jokes to friends and family and I shamingly allowed it until one day I couldn’t stand the tears at night.  When I was a new mother, someone told me I should be more like another mother they knew and I shamingly remembered for years.  And still today as an adult in the middle of life, there are ways shame creeps it’s way into my heart and questions my worth.  You can’t unshame all the years you believed, but you can choose to unload it at the cross.  “How wide and how deep and how long is the Savior’s love that we should be called children of God.” 

What’s the derailing, diffusing, deactivating code to Satan’s push on shame?  How do we release this ugly word from our lips and scorning beliefs in our hearts?  As I’ve thought deeply about that answer and what to bring out of shame from my life or the cereal aisle ministries or the pushing world, I’ve come to answer with simple alphabet letters.  I’ve grabbed on to being a kindergarten learner with childlike wisdom. Here’s the simplicity of learning the alphabet and making sense of words.   The word “am” is square in the middle of the word “shame.”  The great “I Am” is boldly standing in the middle of shame refusing to let it be a whole word without Him in the center. The power of shame is out.  The power of God is in. The word changes from mutilating to majestic when you put Gods name square in the middle of the mess and watch His power and glory diffuse the poverty and pain.    Take it one step further.  The word “me” in “shame” is also right beside the great I Am.  The “m” is shared in the middle connecting us together.  Me and I Am are a package deal.  Exactly as they should be.  You’re not in the middle of shame without being beside God to break it up. He’s right beside you whether you know it or not.  If you feel it, he can take you out of it.  If you do it to others, He can remake you from it.  Why?  Because He loves you too much to let you see anything but beauty because that’s exactly what He sees when He looks at you.   Not sure about that?  Not sure about you?  Not sure about Him?  Here’s something to think about.  We’ve never hung totally naked on a cross in front of people while watching others jeer and joke of our clothes and make fun of who we are while we’re dying.  But He has.  Shame is awful for one person, yet carrying shame of a human race is breathtaking.   He gets it.  I believe with everything I have, He gets it.  That’s why He stands in the middle of the very word shame and deactivates its sting.  You are anything but shamed.  You are loved.  Very very loved.  Live it, spread it, believe it.  “How wide and how deep and how long is the Savior’s love that we should be called children of God.”

Do you want to live with joy and focus on vibrancy?  Do you want to diffuse something like shame?  Look for you and God right in the middle of the problem.  Do you want to free yourself from feeling so bad?  Look for you and God right in the middle of the pain.  Do you want to stop stealing someone else’s beauty?  Look for them and God right in the middle of your mind.  The Great I Am is there.  Shame is no exception and has no hold on the majestic glory of God. “I Am” is beside “me.”  He’s alive.  And so are you, more than you could ever realize.  You’re alive with the breath of God.  Walk no more with painful shame shoulders and climb on to I AM shoulders.  “How wide and how deep and how long is the Savior’s love that we should be called children of God.” 

“How wide and how deep and how long is the Savior’s love that we should be called children of God.” Ephesians 3:18

“So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them…”  Genesis 1:27

So many people have either messaged me or told me they’ve been lifted up by this Facebook post.  To that end, I’ve put it on my main blog page too.  I pray for you dear readers and ask you to pray for me.  “Use It All!”  

I often post a pre-Sabbath thought from my Lamb Lines blog. I haven’t done that in awhile, so tonight I’ve been mulling that over. It’s been a full week of privileges in my life. You? What’s been a privilege in your life this week?

I’ve felt the privilege and full efforts of working as a financial aid counselor for students at Pacific Union College during registration. I love seeing their energy, responsibility, and courage all move together in their life as they come in droves to our office and seek help in their “I’m here and I’m ready” lives! What a privilege to see new dreams on fire! And nerves! And light shining on senior finish lines! Everybody ready to settle, study, make touchdowns and baskets, sing, and ready to show up for everything but early morning workouts without coffee cups!  I’ve felt the privilege of watching my daughter embark on college. Yep, that’s a loaded sentence, so I’ve felt the privilege of finding a private bathroom to cry in with a mirror to fix mushed mascara, and the privilege of ear to ear smiling with more pride for who she is than ever before. To see her life move to new levels and watch her learn new ways to shine forth is the biggest privilege ever.  I’ve felt the privilege of a delivered flower bouquet, granola bar, and supportive people. I’ve felt the privilege of lifting up a nervous college student and their nervous parents and showing the mom where the “private mushed mascara” bathroom haven was. I’ve felt the privilege of God helping me use everything He gave me and pushing me through; tired feet, full heart, and grateful mind. I’ve been praying all week in my head. “Lord, use it all, but lift the girl to do it.”

What can I leave you with for a coming Sabbath weekend? Life is not a “one size fits all” gig. Sometimes you need the private bathroom to cry in and sometimes you can be up and encouraging to someone else. Some are strong about everything, some are nervous about everything, and some are good at finding ease with it all. I believe what matters is that we show up with a student’s “I’m here and I’m ready” mentality to learn how to use everything God gave us. To be willing to learn where our gifts can shine and not worry about a “one size fits all” gig.  God’s gig is beautiful and diverse and powerful.  It’s a tremendous privilege to ask “Lord use it all, but lift the people to do it!” Happy almost Sabbath. God bless and keep you.

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord.”  Colossians 3:23

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

My dad used to wear a gray suit to church, carried a small black comb and velcro wallet in his pocket, and played the guitar for sabbath school.  He was a tie’s guy, not a bow tie’s guy, and he always had a matching colored kerchief in his lapel pocket.  I always thought that was so classy as a little girl about her “sabbath” daddy; matching tie and pocket kerchief.  He also had polished shoes every sabbath because the Friday night before he would come out to the family room with his boxy wooden shoe polish kit and, with his lips pursed a certain way, would diligently work to polish and then brush his shoes to a shiny finish ready for church.  Sometimes it was black polish, sometimes burgundy, but always the same routine of his hand buried up inside the shoe turning it this way and that with the same meticulous concentration.   I remember the “tttt-tttt” of the brush as it went back and forth across the top of the shoe multiple times and found that to be my favorite part because of the cool sound.  The next day Dad would head down the church aisle to find a seat for our family and then motion us to come down while he waited at the edge of the pew for us to file in.  I would have my trusty light blue tote bag filled with coloring books, felts, and my olive green Bible and would traipse down the aisle toward my daddy and my very own familiar seat in church.  Sabbath in our church was always full of people side by side sitting in mauve pews and looking at a wooden pulpit, yet I remember Sabbath was also Dad helping to open the windows with a tall stick to reach the tall window latch when it was summer because the church didn’t have air conditioning and all the people were too hot.  The upside to this warm sunny temperature was that the big stain glass window on the platform wall was so majestic the way it illuminated with sun beams and, to my little girl eyes, it was a “real church” with “real stain glass” that was just so pretty every sabbath.  Church is a different kind of building than anything else and I loved its presentation of stained glass and “Daddy finding a seat in our church” every Sabbath.  My mom used to wear a navy blue dress with a waist belt to church and she always wore dark pink lipstick and had butterscotch lifesavers in her purse for during the sermon.  She often had multiple other things in her hand too because she’d just come from teaching our sabbath school.  I remember her always taking several minutes to organize it all on the floor and then make sure all three of us kids were settled with our clothes tidied and our activity tote bags in place.  Shortly after we got all settled, they would call for everyone to stand for the opening hymn and we’d have to settle all over again five minutes later.  Then came children’s story where we’d leave the pew and come back to settle again.  Then came “please kneel for prayer” after a few more minutes and we’d settle again after that.  My mom never seemed to get flustered about all that settling and I always noticed how she made church a destination every week with special attention to making it doable and likable for us kids.  Looking back, a mother of three little kids getting settled that many times and never flustered was a dedicated thing to do each week and I cherish the inner stress that likely caused her (while she was also planning a full family meal plus company lunch in her head), yet she fully participated and valued raising us in church anyway.  Finally after the last “settling,” Pastor Smith, our longtime pastor and very kind Christian man, and to us kids also a balding man with overhead church lighting shining on his polished head, would deliver a sermon and all the families and elderly people would listen intently until closing prayer and dismissal music.  I remember thinking he was “the pastor” of our family and I liked how he was “the pastor” of our church and “the pastor” of our friends.  I loved having “a town pastor” to claim on Sabbath.  Especially one who’s wife loved us children so much.  After he concluded with prayer, the church ladies or Pastor Smith’s wife would sometimes announce potluck immediately following or remind all the kids to come to VBS the following week so we wouldn’t miss the treasure chest prizes and living Bible story time.  Church.  Two parents, three blond-headed kids in elementary school, mauve pews, butterscotch lifesavers, olive green offering bags, tall window latch sticks, polished shoes, light blue activity totes, and a very traditional sabbath day.  At church.  Every sabbath.

Yesterday’s are gone, but in many ways I wonder if it’s the sabbath traditions or being raised with church values or the warm observations of “family and friends in our church with our kind and Christian balding pastor” that makes me hungry for more in this tough world.  Do I hunger for more niceties and dependability today or more Jesus or both?  It’s always more innocent to be little and relish the pretty and predictable things, but ever as important to go forth and grow older and find Jesus in your life.  Hard, but ever important, ever authentic, and ever worth the challenge it can be.  I hunger for that now.  My big girl Jesus.  My big girl Sabbath.  My big girl life walked with poise.  I hunger for finding Jesus in anything I’m beholding, beautiful stain glass windows or broken stained gut situations.  I hunger for strength to hold up in the challenge and I hunger to see the messy mire of life as a faith builder instead of a fault maker.  And yes, I hunger for more Sabbath and less Monday too.  It’s a long way from the little girl.  The aisle has gotten blurred and it’s not as easy to see the Father saving me a seat and beckoning me to walk toward Him with my tote full of life and the joy of a waiting Life Saver.  It’s all gotten a lot deeper and it pulls more authenticity out of my heart to go the deep route of finding Jesus and finding Sabbath.  (And if I’m being honest, sometimes I’m too tired or tarried for all this deep and just want to have life be easy and sleep or play in the pool until the need of effort goes away.)  But the big girl in me has now become a believer because of the deep.  Not an arrived believer.  No.  But a clinging believer to the Breath-Giver of my life.  All seven days of the week.  Maybe I’m growing up and cherishing the simple need of clinging in an undependable world, maybe I’m still little and cherishing the innocent “daddy” who leads the way to Jesus House, but somehow I hold this new “clinging believer” state as perfect in my Father’s eyes.  It’s what I can be, a clinger.  It’s what He wants, a clinger.  He never asked me to arrive to heaven.  He asked me to cling to Him because He loves me and His power and joy will pull me through life this side of heaven.  He never asked me to arrive to Him.  He invited me to travel on His back.  Perhaps that can be said of cherishing past and present churches too, ones that are strong in programs and parishes or ones that are struggling in beliefs and believers.  He never asked church to arrive to the gate.  He asked church to cling to THE WAY there.  He never asked church to arrive to Him.  He invited them to share clinging to Him.  Can you cherish church as a room full of clingers?  Worshiping, searching, imperfect, dependent, little child and big child clingers?  The shoes might be dirtier than before, but the heart might get cleaner than ever.  Can you cherish your Monday to Sunday as a week full of opportunity to cling to the POWER and THE WAY?  The tote bag might be more worn than before, but the weight might get lighter than ever.  Are you okay?  Cling.

I miss being a little girl in church and I miss the sun beamed stain glass windows and my family’s ways, but more than that these days, I need a deeper every-day walk and call with the Lord to be a big girl in a bigger world.  Growing in today’s world groans with a lot of messy life, but finding Jesus in the deep changes a way.  Finding Jesus in the days before and after Sabbath changes the power of the week.  And clinging to THE WAY changes beautiful church members and allows them to cherish sitting with clingers.  The sun beams reflect not on a beautiful stain glass window, but on beautiful stained up souls.  Souls that are willing to let it all go and walk humbly down the aisle to where God’s family sits.  Souls that cling to the heart of God.  Every day.  Everywhere.  No matter the past.  Because of the present.  Start clinging today.

“Dear Jesus, take us further than we’ve ever been before with you.  Help us climb on your back and cling to you, leaving all our childhood and adulting needs in your heart for safekeeping and compassion and joy.  Blaze through every piece of our need and carry us through as clingers to Christ’s power, Christ’s love, Christ’s soul.   Blaze through every piece of our churches and show us the outlook of cherishing the cling.  And when at last we can all run into your arms and feel full body clinging in your big warm Daddy hug, share our tears of joy face to face after the journey.  Dear Jesus, take us further than we’ve ever been before with you.  We want to be clinging believers.  Every day.  Everywhere.  No matter the past.  Because of the present.  Lead THE WAY and we’ll come.  Praise Jesus, Amen.” 

“Be still and know that I am God.”  Psalm 46:10

“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”  Matthew 11:29

It was my first time riding the New York City subway so everything around me was in full interest to my eyes and mind.  I wasn’t like the “New Yorkers” who sat clad in career clothes and flipped through career phones.  I wasn’t like the “residents” who sat clad in boredom until their bus stop dropped them off to resident tasks and resident places.  And I wasn’t like the very strung out smelly guy who stood holding the pole telling the rest of us he would now sing a song for our entertainment and proceeded to do just that at the top of his lungs.  So it may surprise you when I say I was like the woman who sat homeless clad in the corner of the bus hunkered down and riding to and fro on a subway.   Not knowing anything about her,  I privately gave her the name “daughter” in my mind.  “Take heart, daughter,” He said. . .”

Daughter sat clothed in layers of rags.  If you’re homeless I would think a pair of jeans would be your best friend, but in her case, a dress with many layers would have to suffice.  I imagined her legs were cold at night and little protection was offered her from bugs and dirt getting on her legs and private areas.  Daughter’s hair was gray, frizzy, short, and dirty.  If it had been washed or combed lately, it sure didn’t look it.  I wondered when the last time she felt beautiful was.  Most women take pride in their hair cuts and curls as a first order of self care.  It’s one of their outer beauty marks.  It seemed as if Daughter had long since forgone that care and would place her dreams in simply having a comb to own or bigger, a bathroom to use, or bigger, a bathroom that came packaged with a family and love.  Daughter had several plastic bags laid around her feet.  As with most homeless people, these bags of possessions likely felt like her survival.  Keeping them at her feet was perhaps her way of keeping them close by.  The bags looked old and, although there were several, none of them looked packed and overflowing.  They simply looked necessary to her.  I found it lonely for her that her “home” was in plastic bags sitting on the floor of a subway.  Daughter’s feet were probably the biggest thing that stung me.  Crusty, dirty, swollen, exposed in such worn shoes that the word “shoes” was really just a historical name of what they once were.  Because she was so traveled, her “shoes” held little purpose when compared to the feet they needed to carry.   Daughter was also overweight.  I’ve never studied homeless people very much, but it would make sense for them to be skinny.  When you’re digging in trash cans for food or reliant on an occasional passerby to donate, it seems like you’d be concave with hunger.  Why was Daughter overweight?  Was she not only homeless, but sick?  She never looked up and I never saw her face.  She sat bent over her knees with the sway of the subway moving her gently this way and that while she sat, never moving, never looking up, never receiving of her surroundings, never receiving of a bus stop.  She was in my opinion the most lost woman I’d ever seen and she was riding a New York City subway in rags and bags to pass the time of life.  “Take heart, daughter,” He said. . .”

Yes, it may surprise you when I say I did find myself in the eyes of Daughter.  Not because I was riding a subway like her that morning.  Not because I am a female like her.  Not because I notice hair and clothes and shoes.  Not because I had my own bags of life survival.  But because we’re both daughters of Christ and because neither of us will ever be anything less than beautiful daughters of Christ.  How often do we see another person and immediately feel the flood of “they are a daughter of Christ?”  How often do we see another situation and immediately see the light of “they are a son of the Almighty God?”  It was as if the Creator had gotten on the subway with me that morning and said, “look over there honey, she’s mine.”  It’s as if the Creator has gotten in my mind that morning and said “so are you and neither of you know it.”   Life is so poverty stricken in spirit and so powerfully moving in action.  There isn’t a person on earth born in a suit and tie or born in rags.  There isn’t a person alive that wasn’t given the beholding name of being a son or daughter of God Himself.  And there isn’t a single person who could ever use up the love and grace of the Almighty Jesus Christ.  Ever.  “Take heart, daughter,” He said. . .”

Are you riding a subway right now?  Is your head down with shame and your hair frizzy with the dirt of life?  Are you wearing rags?  How long has it been since you’ve felt beautiful and worth raising your head for?  I don’t know what your story is, but there is someone that does.  Jesus.  I don’t know when your story will be beautiful again and your bags will find a home, but there is someone that is always home for you and finds you breathtakingly beautiful.  Jesus.  I don’t know who else may be standing in your subway watching you and praying for you and feeling the personal knocking of the Creator in her heart, but I know there’s angels standing in your subway and I know who’s driving the bus out of the underground tunnels.  Jesus.  Leave your “shoes” in the subway, climb on Jesus back, and get off.  He knows you’re sitting there and He’s not judging you for it.  He’s loving you because of it.   Find a glimmer of hope in your heart and light up some faith.  “Take heart, daughter,” He said. . .”

There’s one other person Daughter had something in common with.  As Jesus walked on this earth years ago, a woman who’d been bleeding for twelve years and was tired of it came up to Him quietly and tugged on the hem of His robe.  Her thought?  “If I only touch His cloak, I will be healed.” (Matt. 9:21).   Jesus action?  “Jesus turned and saw her, ‘take heart daughter’ he said, ‘your faith has healed you.’  (Matt 9:22).   I love how he calls her daughter.  I love how He saw her.  I love how she had quiet pain and quiet reaching to Him.  It was her private battle and she was tired of it.  It was her personal faith and she was going for it.  I wonder if all of us could go for it more with faith.  Do we live in private circumstances without a robe to tug on?  No.  There’s a robe.  Do we live in private circumstances without “go for it faith” to tug on?  Likely.  There’s a robe.  “Take heart, daughter,” He said. . .”

What is it you need to move you from the subway to the robe?  For me, it’s my name.  Daughter.  Maybe it’s Son for you.  Maybe it’s Daughter for you.  Maybe we’ve forgotten our real name.  Not the one in the career clothes, resident clothes, or homeless clothes.  Not the one in the bathroom or the corner subway chair.  The one you were born with.  The one you’re still born with.  Son.  Daughter.  Worthy, forgiven, not-forgotten, not-a disappointment, not-too-late, not-too-messy, not-alone, way-loved, way-wanted, way-planned, way-purposed, name.  Son.  Daughter.  Your name is Son.  Your name is Daughter.  Move from the subway to the robe because you can.  “Take heart, daughter,” He said. . .”

I believe God rides on subways.  I believe God rides with Daughter whether she knows it or not.  She does not ride alone even if she feels alone.  Neither do you.  She does not live private circumstances alone and she has not fallen from her Creator’s adoration.  Neither have you.  You’re seen.  You’re loved.  There’s a robe for you to tug on.  There’s a name for you to remember.  Stop bleeding out life and accept your name.   Someday God’s going to use it in the majestic skies and call you belongingly home.  You’ll love it when He speaks it out loud like that!  For now, don’t miss that He’s whispering it in your life every single day, subway or not.  Son.  Daughter.  His beloved.  “Take heart, daughter,” He said. . .”

“Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you. . .”   Isaiah 43:4

“I have loved you with an everlasting love.”  Jeremiah 31:3

“If God is for us, who can ever be against us?”  Romans 8:31

“TAKE HEART, DAUGHTER, HE SAID”   Matthew 9:22

Do you ever want to talk to God but you don’t know what to say?   You need Him close but you don’t know how to get Him there?   You are not alone.

Maybe you’re not the “spiritual” type and you don’t relate to “spiritual” things.  The God thing has you stumped.  Maybe you’re a church-goer and song-praiser and the God thing still has you stumped.  Or maybe you’re just plain feeling something and not sure if it’s the God thing or the life thing and neither comes with ease.  Sometimes I think there’s a whole generation that feels caught and confused.  Sometimes I think there’s a whole world that struggles with struggling.  People might not know what to say to God.  People might not know how to do God or be close to God.  The funny thing is they don’t know how to do the world either.  And they might not know many are walking some of the same laps.  The more I blog, the more I get feedback from the hearts and needs of readers, the more I realize there’s a powerful current going strong. We need connection for what we’re feeling about God and we need connection to what He’s feeling about us.  We like it and it makes us feel safe and same.  We need to feel okay and even the presence of God questions brings us comfort.  You are not alone.   

As I’ve struggled and worked and persevered and adored and fallen and loved within God’s place in my life, I’ve come to a warm thought for me in a “remove God” and “what God” world.  I wondered if it might be warm for you too.  I’ve wondered if it could be a start to God for someone.  The thought I’ve come to is this:  “God’s yes.”  God says yes to me.  God says yes to you.  God spoke stars and scars to say yes to you.  Do you get God says yes to you?  Have you put that together in your life?  You’re looking to stamp out the no’s and the people or places saying them.  You’re looking for the yes-path in a non-path or no-path world.  Here’s your yes.  God’s.  He hasn’t said yes to the world dear reader.  You won’t find it there, stop looking and longing there friend.  He’s said yes to you.  Look there first and most.  He started the “what do I say to God” conversation for you.  Yes.  You are not alone. 

When I was a teen girl, I used to go to a nursing home to write letters for the residents there.  Many of them didn’t have the motor skills or mind skills to reach out to their families, but some wanted to.  They were of a generation that still wrote cards and letters back home to the kids and grandkids and it was special at the very least.  I remember a few residents in particular because their stories were impactful.  Fred was a war vet and the loudest guy in the place.  His hands shook like the wind and he always had a hat on.  He didn’t quite understand what to say to anyone he’d write to because he saw his life as all “mushy food and fogie hallways not fit for a mosquita'” and said no one would want to hear about that *&!@#.  I’d laugh and tell him they wanted to hear about anything and I’d get out the pen and paper.  He’d say a few things to his kids like “I’ve got a blasted boat story for ya about me and the guys” or “bring this fogie a big mac so I can fill this grunt up!” and then he’d tell me that’s all he could think of.  I could sense this feisty energetic sweet guy missed them and hoped they’d come visit even if he felt like a has-been.  I’d sign the letter in his name and give it to the front desk for addressing, stamping, and mailing and then keep him hugged and humored whenever I visited.  How does one go from vibrant navy vet to “mosquita’ mush” man in his mind?  Did he know the “yes” in a nursing home was still as important as it had been on the ship?  The yes-giver didn’t think him any less at any place.  I remember Mabel very much.  She was a shrinking little lady who always sat in her wheelchair with a pink and white afghan blanket she’d made.  Mabel was a sadder lady with long thin silver hair and she really didn’t want to write to anyone.  She looked down a lot and seemed lost to herself and lost in this place.  I’d visit her because of it and, even though we didn’t write letters together, we spent time talking about how she was doing that day.  I got to know Mabel’s favorite color (pink) and how she loved her berry pie.  I got to know she was 94 and had arthritis hands from old age and years of being a seamstress.  I also got to know her pain.  One day I asked Mabel why she didn’t want to write to anyone.  She tearfully said, “my life’s been full of no’s honey, no one’s visited me for years, I’m all alone.”   What do you say to someone who feels no’d in the past and put away in the present?   Does she know someone said yes to her?  Does she know who said yes to her?  One day I wrote a letter to Mabel herself and brought it to her.  It said “I’m thinking of you Mabel. You’re not alone and I like your pink afghan.  My grandma made me an afghan too.  Berry pie is my favorite too.”  Mabel cried in her wheelchair and I was struck at my young teen’s age with the power of telling someone else the “yes.”  I hadn’t felt like a yes in someone’s life before or told someone else “the yes” before and it made an impact that day.  I’ll look for Mabel in heaven and revel in her face when she sees the “yes” in God’s kingdom.  I wonder if she’ll make Him a pink afghan and post His letter of “yes” to her on her heavenly porch.  You are not alone.

Are you a feisty Fred and don’t feel worth a mosquita’ anymore and, as only lovable Fred could put it, don’t think anyone would want to hear about your *&!@#?  Are you a very lonely Mabel hungering and craving a letter from God saying the “yes?”  Dear readers, I don’t have your answer for how you should talk to God.  I only know how He has talked to you.  Yes.  I don’t have the answer for the world separating us from God.  I only know I don’t want to be separated from all of you in connecting about it.  The star and scar God said yes to wanting us.  So with all my blogging heart, I say to you today, I am learning God’s Yes.  Whatever else we’re hung up on, our own words or the world’s ways, we are a yes to Him.  Perhaps we should accept it.  Perhaps our first word in talking to God should be Our Yes to God’s Yes.  You are not alone. 

“Dear Holy God,
I have no idea how to talk to you.  I’m one of those.  Yes I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do in my world.  They tell me to remove you.  Yes I’m not sure how to fit in your world.  I’m not good at that.  Yes I’m confused.  Yes I’m struggling.  Yes from the ground up.  God, can I do your yes today?  Can I say yes to you too?  

“Dear Child,
You have always been my yes honey.  You have always been my amazing strong promised yes.  I love you.  I know the world confuses you about that.  I’m so sorry they do that.  Don’t long for me there.  Learn from me here.  I yes you.  I adore yes’ing you.  I can do great things now that you yes’d me.  Honey, you are not alone.“

“I keep my eyes always on the Lord.  With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”  Psalm 16:8

“I have loved you with an everlasting love.”  Jeremiah 31:3

“I will never leave you nor forsake you.”  Hebrews 13:5

Not long ago my family and I were on our way home from skiing and going out to eat at one of our favorite restaurants.  We wanted to top off the snowy athletic day with mounds of mouthwatering food and the choice was perfect.  Walking up to put our name in, the hostess informed us it would be about a 30-40 minute wait before she could seat us at a table.  It wasn’t the best news, but when you’re not in that area very much and they serve the best food ever, you look at each other and agree to the long wait.  You also get a soda from their bar and sip on it to curve your crazy hunger.  This particular evening happened to be rain-free and sun-kissed, so we found an available bench outside the restaurant and got comfortable next to the many other families doing the same thing.  There were two boys approximately 4 years old running wildly and entertaining themselves with the famous “tackle me, punch me, catch me, and watch me” games little boys are known for, their dad monitoring the hyper activity while mom held the newest addition in her arms.  I noted another pair of little girls, this time around 8 or 9 years old, fawning over a baby in a stroller and giving it all the adoration and softness these “little mamas” inherently had in their spirit.  Beside them was another set of retired gentlemen with their wives.  One of the men was missing an arm, the other wore a “war veteran” hat and a pocket watch.  I really liked that they were together in the world and felt happy they were surrounded by grass and pleasantries so different than historical war lands.  To our right was a girl in a specialized and motorized wheelchair.  She was missing all the tone and regularity of muscle in one arm, had one leg far deformed, and the other leg far shorter than it should be for the age of her body and face.  All together she was about 3 feet tall and likely about 20 years old.  The biggest thing I noted was her smile as she talked as normal as anyone else about being starving and looking forward to a nice meal.  A variety of thoughts rambled my head, not the least of which was genuine admiration for her poise and cheerful involvement in her party. Then there was the big group of prom students coming and going from the restaurant.  The teen ladies wore long stylish dresses, the guys donning a variety of fashionably clad outfits to go with them, and everyone sporting anything from Converse tennis shoes to 6 inch heels parading the patio with presence.  My daughter and I were of course assessing which dresses we liked and my husband chimed in with whether or not “that guys outfit” would do or not.  The thing I noticed about “prom people” was that they didn’t look together even though they were out together.  They had the “this is so awkward, but she’s gorgeous” look or the insecure girls “what do I say next that isn’t stupid” dilemma.  Best yet, others had the hair do’s and struts that said “I have dudes” accompanied by the hilarious “how do I act on this date without my dudes” thoughts.  They were fun to watch and I’m guessing when they got to prom, the dancing either got more awkward or less “just you and me.”  Wrapped packages and balloons sat by another family as they anxiously awaited going inside to celebrate the mom’s birthday.  They were a fun African American family with several members, the most obvious being a toddler that couldn’t get much cuter in her fancy flouncy red dress and many braids.  We said hello to her and she just smiled shyly.  The Asian couple standing nearby also noted her cuteness and smiled as well.

People came and went for quite awhile.  I think the couple that got my attention the most was an elderly couple likely in their 80’s or 90’s.  She wore a soft pink sweater and blue pants with white shoes and he wore blue jeans with a tan button up shirt tucked in and tennis shoes.  I thought the blue jeans was cute on a guy like that. They were way past impressing anyone with dresses or hair do’s, rather they were just out together enjoying companionship and depending on someone else to do the cooking.   She walked feebly holding a cane in one hand and her husbands hand in the other.  He carried her purse in his other hand and guided her through the people and over the bumpy areas of patio.  I loved that she still wanted her girlie purse even if she couldn’t carry it and I loved how he cared and enabled that desire for her.  It was a busy waiting area and she sweetly looked up at him with a sparkle and smile at one point and then back down at her walking.  I watched them for a few minutes and found myself feeling emotion for people I’d never met.  They were the full picture of a lifetime friendship and dependent loving I’d seen in a long time and I found myself wishing their generation would last forever just like their marriage and honest work ethic had.  What a collective and varying display of people all waiting to eat, all in one common thread with one common need.

As any family does after 40 minutes, we began getting a little impatient after awhile.  We felt like new people were going in before us and we’d been the forgotten children.  The sun was setting now and I was getting cold, this “favorite restaurant” pulling hunger out of me faster than soda was appeasing it.  My husband went in to check on things and discovered some people had reservations, thus we’d been moved further down the line.  We were now at number eight on the list.  Being “number eight” feels so middle-man doesn’t it?  We buckled up and decided we’d waited this long and we’d wait the rest.  Finally, “Party of 3, your table is ready.”  Relief and joy lit up together as we loyally followed our hostess to the table ready to order the whole menu.

We’re all waiting right now for our table in heaven.  Just like the world of people I saw, we’re each bringing different family sizes and ethnicities, different stages of life, different reasons, and different physical bodies to the wait.  But one thing is the same in all those “different’s.”  One thing joins us together on common ground for the wait.  We’re all hungry.

Sometimes I wonder if waiting together for our table is what’s getting harder in our world.  Other times I think it’s not waiting together that’s stressing us, but being hungry together that’s straining us.  It’s easier to wait in kindness and love when you’re not hungry.  It’s easier to wait in patience when your basic needs are met.  It’s easier to wait in wisdom when you know the time frame for the fix.  Yet everything strains and pulls when you’re empty inside.

Are we an “empty” people?  I would say no, we are anything but empty.  I believe we’re a full people, but feel empty with the comprehension and living of life.  I believe we’re a full people with joy at our fingertips and charisma for our dreams, but sometimes feel there’s trust blocks or hurt securities to go get them.  I believe we’re a full people with the divine Holy Spirit’s drive, but sometimes feel full and driven by the divisive devil’s issues. It’s tough on us, but that’s just it.  Those are his issues, not ours.   I believe we’re a full people of choice, but sometimes feel controlled by circumstance and convenience instead of patience and persistence.  Still yet, I believe we can look around the waiting patios of people and choose to fill someone else up who needs reminding they’re full of beauty and worth, but sometimes don’t because of self.  Why don’t we walk around with the fullness of God and His ways?  People say that’s easier, yet it sometimes seems harder.  Why does the world push us to its own ways of unquenchable hunger and why do we let that ruin a positive hunger for God?  Because it’s hard not too.  Because even though we know the list of what we should or could be, we’re doing our best to just be at all sometimes.  We’ve read the spiritual books and blogs and we know the ideal, but ideals are different for everyone and we’re not them.  We’re needing to ditch the list of perfect ways and do the possible ways.  We’re absolutely craving the supportive and encouraging words “you’re doing it just fine so carry on; you have my love and I have your load.”  It’s tough.  It’s hard to be tougher sometimes.  So what’s the answer?  Are we really empty?  Are we enjoying feeling empty?  Nope.  We want to tap into the “full of the Holy Spirit” energy and we want to let stuff roll off our backs and into the bucket of “trust in the Lord with all your heart.”  We want to let go and embrace “don’t worry about anything, instead by prayer and petition, submit your requests to God.”  We hunger to feel those things and live large by them.  Praise Jesus for the words connecting His promises to our hearts.  Praise Jesus for Jesus.  Yet even the most Christian one among us gets hungry for more in this wait.  Even the most committed among us is tired of the tough times.  Are we an empty people?  No.  We’re a hungry people.  A beautiful, resilient, impassioned, hungry people doing the very best we can at being us.  The hook is to realize we’re God’s hungry people.  We’re not alone, we are within mighty love and power saturating every part and piece of our life and load.  The hook is to fill each other up for Christ and live to our full and abundant abilities despite the wait.  He didn’t put us here to wait, He put us here to live and love large.  The hook is to do all that holding the dependent and steadying hand of Christ, holding on to His Shepherd’s cane, His lifelong friendship guiding us over the bumpy patio, His sparkle and smile to gaze at, and letting Him carry the purse of stuff until we hear the words “Party of trillions, your table is now ready, right this way to the heart of heaven and the loving divine face of God Himself!”

“Dear Christ in Heaven, watch over our wait I plead.  It’s hard to wait when we’re hungry.  It’s hard to have stuff happening in our lives that takes energy faster than strength can convince us we’re not empty of you.  We want to be called to our table in heaven.  We want to fill up with peace and praise.  Teach us how to better channel our hunger and act with kindness and patience for the other hungry people in our world.  Teach us to wait with purpose instead of wait with complacency.  Lord we need your heart and we need your grace.  We always have.  We always will.  Lord, in a world teaching us to feel empty, I ask that you show us it’s our hunger instead.  Hunger for you and hunger for letting you lead.  And dear Jesus, when we do feel “empty,” may it be emptied of self and emptied of satan’s ruin.  With all my life, and with all the lives of my family, friends, communities, and worldly nations, I bow with ravenous hunger to hear you say from across the skies,  “Party of trillions, your table is now ready.  Right this way to the heart of heaven and the loving divine face of God Himself.”  

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”  John 14:3

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.”  Mark 12:30

“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Matthew 11:29-30.