almost Sunday

be still

and know

that Sunday's coming

silent and waiting with Sandy

 

breathing again

The heavens declare the glory of God;

    the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Psalm 19:1 NIV

I've always been one to appreciate the beauty of God’s handiwork displayed as the sun begins it’s ascent in the morning sky.

Yet the darkness seemed to be settling in deep, driving me inwards, even as the light dawned.  

God’s glory hovering over Malawi was a call we never doubted. Wide eyed, innocent and willing to be obedient, we hungrily stepped into our first full time mission assignment. In a very short time the things we expected, the life we thought we would be living and the work we had felt called to do was crumbling in our hands.  I didn't know what to do with the disappointment. 

Like Christ’s disciples on the day following His crucifixion how could I imagine life would continue? I completed whatever tasks were given to me, never certain if my work was sufficient. Frightened of failure, I couldn't reconcile with the idea of giving up but did not know how to move forward.
Stuck and shaken, weeks passed living in the lonely space between Good Friday and Easter morning; between what was and what isn't yet.  I could only see what I was losing, budding relationships with Malawian people who had crawled straight into my heart.

I stopped talking to my Lord, certain he would see me as I saw myself, faulty and not up to the assignment He had set before me. I stepped off the only Rock that could sustain me and the world spun with a fierceness that stripped my breath.

Have you been there, convinced that somehow God stopped paying attention, didn't care, leaving you desolate and shaking?

Jesus, how could you leave us?  What about the Kingdom You promised? Now what are we to do? We can only assume what those who had followed Christ were thinking during those long hours of in-between.

There is a day after Saturday; for them, for you and for me.  When I was so weary I couldn’t reach for Him, He reached down and lifted me. When my words ran dry, His were fresh, true and life sustaining.

You are looking for Me in the ashes.  I Am not there, I have risen. The same power that lifted Me from the tomb resides in you. This is not the end of the road, far, far from it. Rise then, to new plans and purposes, designed by My hand. 

I am breathing again, gulping life. This is not an end to the road, just a redirection. We will not work in Malawi, but we will serve where He chooses. I know He will use me, broken and frail. Hopes once crushed have been resurrected, bold and bright as Sunday morning.

Linking up at The High Calling as we ponder Resurrection


 

nature's old song

Whenever there is stillness there is the still small voice,

 God's speaking from the whirlwind,

 nature's old song, and dance...

Annie Dillard

let me remain
silent, satisfied
in Him
let the wind blow
as it may
I will not be moved

sitting still with Sandy

 

tenacity

they take my breath

never failing

bright shining solid

gift from paradise 

this is not fragile beauty 

no, I am awed

by tenacity

I believe

 there is a lesson 

waiting here

 

settle in

Ask the world to reveal its quietude —

not the silence of machines when they are still,

but the true quiet by which birdsongs,

trees, bellworts, snails, clouds, storms

become what they are, and are nothing else.

Wendell Berry

in the center of the flood

grasping, gasping

may I find the still point

peace falling, as the dove 

Holy Spirit, settles in

for an extended stay

seeking the stillness with Sandy

love upturned

I felt a strange pull to listen to an old Suzanne Vega song, perhaps that which she was most known for.  In the lyrics to Luka she sings:

They only hit until you cry
After that you don't ask why
You just don't argue anymore

I was stopped, breathless
understanding the words 
in my own aching heart
in a way I never have before

why now?

I only pondered for a moment
before a deep knowing settled
for I can now add my name 
to the long list
of those who feel the sting
of the type of emotional abuse,
that leaves you shattered
tear-soaked, fragile
and uncertain if you are 
who you always thought you were

I made the temporary bed
in our place of refuge
this morning
without paying much attention
to the order of the throw pillows
not noticing I had allowed love
to be turned upside down

I have been blind
but my eyes are opening
what was taken, ripped away
is being restored
I was created, by His hand
the Master Designer
in His image
to love, as He loves

what the enemy has twisted
turned on edge
and used to harm me
is being restored
I have been claimed
reclaimed
and set free

But now, O Jacob, listen to the Lord who created you.
O Israel, the one who formed you says,
“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.
I have called you by name; you are mine.
When you go through deep waters,
 I will be with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty,
you will not drown.
When you walk through the fire of oppression,
you will not be burned up;
the flames will not consume you.
Isaiah 43:1-2 NLT



 

everything must change

day by day

we have watched
 the transformation

of a single rose

moving from glory

to glory

may it be unto us

the very same

as everything must change