Sticking With It

An early morning February fog on Grove Street.

"Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in You. Show me the way I should go, for to You I entrust my life."—Psalm 143:8, NIV

In a classic Monty Python sketch, actor John Cleese explains his uneven cadence upon entering the Ministry of Silly Walks: "Good morning. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but I'm afraid my walk has become rather sillier recently, and so it takes me rather longer to get to work. Now then, what was it again?"

It's how a person can feel greeting God during those seasons of the Walk when even though a new sunny day dawns, it is often, like February in New Hampshire, obscured in clouds. Not horrible, but lacking that certain sweetness and clarity.  And like Cleese, not free-falling backwards but nevertheless sometimes feeling stuck in neutral, or for every two steps forward, one step back or even sideways. What's with that? It's called being human. It's called the Walk of faith. And the solution, it seems, can be found by taking what some might consider another kind of silly but beautiful walk: Very early in the morning on a Saturday in the late winter when most sane people are still cozied up in their beds. Walking and observing and remembering...

"Hey, what's that aroma?" It's not the usual wood smokiness accenting a frigid day. It's...it's the fragrance of the south wind! — the same one that hits you in the face during t-shirt and shorts weather. It's coming!

"Hey, what's that sound?" It's not the usual wintertime cackle of a blue jay. Nope, it's a robin! OK, so it's a Canadian Robin, eh? But it's still the same sound that sings in your ear when kayaking on a still lake on a warm evening. Kayak...open water...warmth. It's coming!

"Hey, wait, what's that thing growing in February?" It's not the usual wintertime shrub, like the one right next to it still covered with protective burlap, but a lilac bush with some very fat buds — the same bush that every balmy spring explodes in all-too-short-lived color and fragrance. It's really going to come!

Not just an early morning walk in late February. Instead, one where it was good to remember that whether feeling sunny or in a feels-like-I'm-stuck-in-neutral fog, God's faithfulness and promises for another Spring and for every season of life are unshakeable. And when you don't really know what's going on or feeling a bit "off," it's good to remember that the Walk of faith often means going into a land you do not know, and like millions of saints before you, God will be with you still. It's good to know, too, that occasional forgetfulness of God's faithfulness and goodness every step of your way is not a sin but a frequently off-course rudder that requires an occasional early morning walk of remembrance to get back on track.

And out of His great, unfailing love for us, and how that He knows so very well how we tick, God will use whatever means at His disposal — everyday things like aromas, sounds, and sights from a walk — to remind us that His faithfulness never changes and His promises have no "sell by" date. Most especially, God will often drive it all home with His Word, even one that hit home so hard many days ago that you wrote it down and tucked away for future reference because you knew you'd need re-reminding in the future. Like now...

 

"Barricade the road that goes nowhere

I choose the true road to Somewhere

I post Your road signs at every curve and corner

I grasp and cling to whatever You tell me

God, don’t let me down!

I’ll run the course You lay out for me

If you’ll just show me how.”

—Psalm 119:29-32, Message

"The strongest kind of faith is not mountaintop faith but one that says 'I won't quit.'"

— Steve Boyce

Field of Dreams

A summer evening visit to an old friend: the Cheney Avenue field.

Whenever I drive by it, I can’t help but take my eyes off the road for a second or two. Whenever I walk or run by it—and that is often— can’t help but gaze at its rolling knolls and tall grasses and wildflowers. And whenever I walk through it, I can’t help but stand in the middle of it all and just stand, and be in awe, and rest, and breathe deeply, and find invigoration for the journey.

Especially if you’re from around here, in a land filled with woods and mountains, there is something about a wide open field that is magnetic—something that makes you want to pause from the chaos, busyness and to-dos and pull off the road for a second and just take it all in. What’s with that? Perhaps it is as simple as God’s DNA in all that He has made—fields, creation, and we creatures that He loves—that is bubbling to the surface, and we don’t even realize it. Bubbling up and begging for attention amidst all the 24/7 noise. Not unlike what the psalmist famously discovered many years ago:

“The Eternal God is my shepherd, He cares for me always.

He provides me rest in rich, green fields beside streams of refreshing water.

He soothes my fears;

He makes me whole again,

Steering me off worn, hard paths to roads where truth and righteousness echo His name…” (from Psalm 23, The Voice)

And sometimes, those “rich, green fields” can even show up as a field of dreams…

One morning not long ago, I awoke to words from a song I had not heard in awhile:

“And all I did was pray

And all I did was worship

And all I I did was bow down

And all I did was stay still…”

Strange. I wasn’t sure where that came from or what I had been dreaming about, but I did know I had a lot on my mind and lots of loose threads to corral. And I had to wonder that if instead of mere coincidence, God, who neither slumbers or sleeps, saw that as well. Perhaps those random lyrics weren’t random after all and were simply a loving reminder that I needed to hear to start the day:

“I AM still here.”

And as I peered into them, I realized that those lyrics in the night weren’t strange at all but were the formula for getting through just about anything in life, including all those loose ends that need corralling:

Stop striving.

Stop trying to win this battle on your own.

Stop running away and run perseveringly to green pastures instead.

Stop trying to live by performance and approval and instead find God’s grace and mercy in time of every need.

Be still and remember that you have a Savior who is forever your advocate, no matter what.

He was, He is, and He always will be your defender:

“The Lord will fight for you. All you have to do is keep still.” (Exodus 14:14)

And whenever you need a reminder, go take a walk, or go for a run…

To that familiar place nearby where you can’t help but gaze at its rolling knolls and tall grasses and wildflowers. 

To go stand in the middle of it all and just stand, and be in awe, and rest, and breathe deeply, and find invigoration for the journey.

And remember once more, for the thousandth time:

“Let be, and be still, and know, recognize and understand,

that I am God.” 

(Psalm 46:10 Amplified Classic)

The Parable of the Old Bridge

All things new. (If you're from around here, no caption necessary.)

Once upon a time, in a land not very far away, an old bridge in the middle of nowhere was languishing under the weight of the world. It was uniquely shaped, just like other bridges, and its stones-and-rocks appearance was uniquely designed—each one precisely and perfectly fitting together. On the outside, the bridge was beautiful and had thousands upon thousands of friends who smiled as they went by. On the inside, though, the bridge had become tired, and beat up, and found it increasingly hard to greet each new day cheerfully.

Plain and simple, on the outside, all looked well. On the inside, the bridge was broken, and felt small and forgotten out here in the middle of nowhere. Surely, it thought, only the bigger bridges in the bigger towns and cities were noticed and cared for. So, for many years, it tried patching things up here, and trying to smooth things over there, and applying new coats of pavement to try to cover what was really wrong underneath its skin. That would always work for awhile, but soon, the little bridge would again feel tired, beat up, and broken. And the weight of carrying the cares of the world, day after day, night after night, winter, spring, summer and fall, became heavier than ever. Would anyone notice out here in the middle of nowhere? Would anyone care?

Then one very cold day while crying out for help, there was a voice unlike any the little bridge had heard before. Even in the winter chill, it was warm and powerful and wonderful: “I have come to bring you back to life!” But because it was so burdened and hardened, even cynical, from years of frustration, the old bridge wondered, “Is this really true, or is this just another self-improvement idea that goes nowhere?” But the voice, unlike any the bridge had heard before, continued...

“Where I’m from, all things are possible!”

With its back up against the river banking and nowhere else to turn, the little bridge surprised itself by saying, “OK, I give up!—and I believe you can do just what you say.”

And so it began. Immediately, some obvious surface things in the bridge’s old life changed right away. The sky never looked bluer and the air never felt more refreshing. People could tell that something wonderful was happening. But for the most part, the voice worked day after day after day on the heart of the old bridge’s infrastructure—the places most people could not see but where it was most broken. No more patching things up. Lovingly, patiently, and with great artistry, the voice brought new strength, new life, and new hope to the little bridge. Its effects were being felt all around.

Still, it seemed to take forever, and some days and weeks felt like two steps forward and one step back. But then there came that glorious time not many days ago when the old bridge looked at it itself and noticed it was still uniquely shaped with its beautiful and uniquely designed stones-and-rocks appearance, but everything felt, well, different—especially on the inside where no one could see. The little bridge was beside itself in wonder and joy and hope, even though it knew that along with days of warm sunshine ahead there would always be those days and years of storms and fog and burdens. Even so, everything had been fixed up, like never before!

Or so it thought. Until that same warm and wonderful and powerful voice came by to admire his makeover and to make one more makeover to the little bridge’s thinking: “Fix? Not at all. Look at yourself. See? I make all things new!” And best of all, the voice promised to always be ready to help in the days and years ahead, whenever it was needed...

“We are all trophies of God's grace, some more dramatically than others; Jesus came for the sick and not the well, for the sinner and not the righteous. He came to redeem and transform, to make all things new. May you go forth more committed than ever to nourish the souls who you touch, those tender lives who have sustained the enormous assaults of the universe.”—Philip Yancey

Walking in Peace

A late fall afternoon along the Wapack Trail.

When having "one of those days" or "one of those weeks"
When answers to prayer don't seem to be happening fast enough
Or the way you had hoped

When you are forced to slow down when you'd rather go fast...

And even on those days and weeks when all is right and good

When it's easy to trust in your own wits

When it's too easy to say, "I've got this"...
It is always wise, and never crazy, to talk to yourself

About two simple things:

"Put your hope in the LORD.

Travel steadily along His path."

- Psalm 37:34, NLT

This, too, is worship.

"The soul that loves God has its rest in God and God alone. In all the paths that men walk in the world, they do not attain peace until they draw nigh to hope in God." 

- Isaac of Ninevah, early Church mystic

Paddling In the Thunderous Silence

Putting in at sunset at MacDowell Lake.

"It's when you take two words that are totally the opposite and you jam 'em together....like military intelligence, dark victory...thunderous silence...."

― Danny DeVito in "Renaissance Man"

The Sons of Korah who penned the lyrics to Psalm 46 got it long before we, or Danny DeVito, ever did―this walk of following in Jesus' footsteps is an oxymoron of endless and sometimes chaotic noise bubbling over a deep current of perfect peace. The same psalm that inspired one of the most famous, most majestic, and most floor-rattling hymns of our faith ― "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God"―also whispers "be still, and know that I am God." Psalm 46 is not either/or, but both. It is not trying to avoid or deny the reality of the former to escape to the latter, but rather God gripping us by the hand as if to assure us, "I AM with you in the midst of it all."

Life with the King of the universe is a wonderful "thunderous silence." If only we will look for it. If only we will take the time. If only we will look for Him. But how?

"That same day, Jesus left the house and went to sit by the sea."

―Matthew 13:1, The Voice

On the heels of a day filled with going from place to place, surrounded by people of all walks of life making requests, and demands, and challenges, and questions, and accusations, and all the while being hemmed in by so many people in great need and in impossible situations looking for answers or simply just a glimmer of hope, Jesus pursued the stillness of His Father's presence by, it would seem, slipping out to someplace quiet without anyone noticing.

With one little three-letter word, Jesus our example lives out the oxymoron of life that is Psalm 46. "Sit." Most of the time, when we go to our favorite get-away place, we're still moving when we get there. We want to walk, or hike, or jog, or restlessly go to this vantage point and then the next. All the while realizing that just because we are at our favorite place doesn't mean that the noise has gone away. Besides, some of the most thunderous noises are the ones that keep playing in our heads: "do this, you forgot that, what about this?, and what if?... and you really should have....and what a mess―how is this every going to sort itself out-ok-let-me-play-out-all-the-scenarios-and-put-it-on-repeat."

And in that one little three-letter word, Jesus seems to to be modeling:

Recharge your batteries and get a renewed Heavenly perspective.

Stop moving, even if your brain is at full tilt.

Stop completely.

Be still.

Breathe deeply.

Look up and see His majesty and presence all around you once more.

And while you're at it, don't forget to confess with your mouth what your brain knows is true but quickly forgets.

The beauty of what is known as flat water kayaking is that it forces you to stop moving your feet even while your brain is racing―when it is too busy being busy, a sort of multi-topic mental vertigo. And when all that internal noise rages, the launch from shoreline can provide a stunning counterattack. One evening not long ago, the lake was so calm, so still, so smooth as glass, it seemed like splashing the oars to move forward would be akin to being that one person who has a coughing spell in the midst of holy-hush moment of a play or concert...

What would Jesus do? What did Jesus do?

..."Sit."And so I sat. And just floated rather aimlessly, occasionally carefully dipping a paddle into the water as though I were tip-toeing. It was still rather noisy inside, but soon, the thunderous silence began to invade. Soon the multi-topic mental vertigo was drowned out by the sound of...silence. Not a breeze. Not a distant airplane or traffic. Even the birds flying around and about seemed to be on mute in reverence.

And then, as I had done a few times before but not enough lately, I pulled out my phone's bible app and didn't just think-read but broke the thunderous silence by doing something which seems a bit weird and awkward: confessing with my mouth what is True. Out loud. It seemed to echo around the lake:

“God is our shelter and our strength.

    When troubles seem near, God is nearer, and He’s ready to help.

So why run and hide?

No fear, no pacing, no biting fingernails.

    When the earth spins out of control, we are sure and fearless.

    When mountains crumble and the waters run wild, we are sure and fearless.

Even in heavy winds and huge waves,

    or as mountains shake, we are sure and fearless….

“Be still, be calm, see, and understand I am the True God.

    I am honored among all the nations.

    I am honored over all the earth.”

You know the Eternal, the Commander of heavenly armies, surrounds us and protects us;

    the True God of Jacob is our shelter, close to His heart.”

(Psalm 46: 1-3; 10-11)

Even in the silence, the noise inside didn't suddenly disappear; the realities of dilemmas and decisions and tough situations remained. But what was noticeable was this: they were put in their place, drowned out by a peace that passes all understanding. And all Creation praised the moment: The thunderous silence was broken by the distant call of an owl, and then of a loon, and then of a beaver trying to quietly sneak by without being noticed. And then most amazingly, as though God Himself was smiling through this moment of the rhythms of grace, I looked to the western sky and saw that great hymn and the last verse of Psalm 46 as a painting: a glorious mighty fortress in the clouds....

... Woah! A painting that spoke blessed assurance in the wonderful thunderous silence, "I've got you, and I've got this noise. And I always have. And I always will."

[Originally published summer of 2017]

Radar Up

Creation speaking up the road from my backyard

 “…and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is My dearly loved Son, who brings Me great joy. Listen to Him.’—Matthew 17:5, NLT

I know and believe God has spoken this way, and that He still does on occasion. And yet whenever I’m in a conversation where someone boldly announces they heard from God, why is that everything within me wants to stand at arm’s length?

Them: “God told me…”

Me thinking: “Really? In an audible voice? Are you sure? Told you how, exactly? And how did you know it was God?”

Some people sincerely claim they hear God speaking to them regularly in an audible voice, like the voice-over calling Dr. Bob in The Muppets’ “Veterinarian’s Hospital” segment. I'd love to hear God like that.

But this week, I heard birds. And I’m good with that...

“Having your spiritual radar up in constant anticipation of His presence—even in the midst of the joyful chaos and regular rhythms of your everyday living—is paramount in hearing God, because sometimes the place and manner you find Him is the least spectacular you'd expect.”

—Priscilla Shirer, author

... As I often do as part of my morning routine in the warm weather months, after I grabbed my coffee yesterday, I opened the door to the porch to greet the day and to once again breathe in the breath God has given me. But there was something else: it was wicked noisy. Not traffic, not windy, but very, very birdie. The “dawn chorus” of the early morning birds in the summer was nothing new, but the volume yesterday seemed exceptionally loud. Excited about something? A lot to say? Announcing to one another a new source of food or a new predator in the neighborhood? Huh. While marveling at the sound, and finding a sense of assurance that, yet again, everything that has breath does indeed praise the Lord for that breath, I thought that was that and went back inside to my usual spot near the window, with bible and notebook and a couple of devotional books.

But then, a “voice-over” of sorts that wasn’t audible but that seemed to be clearly directed at me. I opened the day’s selection from a devotional called “Because God…I Can,” written by one of my previous pastors, Steve Gammon. And the “God told me” voice-over was this:

“Ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.” (Job 12:7-10)…Have you heard? God is speaking through His creation. As an artist speaks through his or her handiwork, God reveals Himself in the wonders He has made. Flowers, gemstones, and tropical fish eloquently shout the beauty of God and the brilliance of His glory. Snowflakes reflect the purity of God’s holiness, His grace to cover sin, and the sheer endlessness of His creativity. The lion, tiger and bear hint at His strength and fearlessness, and the soaring eagle exhibits the graceful moving of God far above all things. The trees point upward toward heaven, and the wind speaks God’s power to move heaven and earth. The birds show God’s care for all His creations. And every newborn baby affirms the miracle of life, which is of God. It is good for us to hear what God is saying through His creation. Are we listening today?”

And that would have been wonderful enough. But this morning, after a restless night for whatever reason, I opened that porch door again and intentionally listened for the birds’ cacophony. Not as loud as yesterday, but the reminder made me put up my spiritual radar again. And it was simply a sense, an inner voice: “check out Psalm 143.” And back in my usual spot by the window, I turned to this, and exhaled…“Let me hear Your loving-kindness in the morning, for I trust in You. Teach me the way I should go for I lift up my soul to You.” (Psalm 143:8, NLV) …Hey, it’s true—God told me!

Sometimes, the most important thing God wants to tell us is that He is still in control, large and in charge, that His love for us never quits (even when we think He’s got to have a limit), and that no matter how crazy this world gets, God will always care immensely for all His creation and all He has made.

And sometimes, He will make it known loud and clear yet without a booming voice from above—even through something as simple as the morning birds. Radar up…

Can I Say That?

In October 1979, three talented and beautiful teenagers from my hometown's high school had their lives suddenly snuffed out by evil in the form of a man charged with drunk driving. Then, just as it was this week with the evil that transpired at a Texas elementary school, there was deep sorrow for the loss of innocent lives, many prayers for family and friends, much anger, lots of questions, and widespread cries that something must be done to prevent this from ever happening again. On that last point, ever since October 1979, good people have worked hard to improve state laws concerning driving while under the influence. Even so, evil on the highways, in every state, continues. Evil always seems to find another way. It was true following the Holocaust, and 9/11, and Oklahoma City, and Columbine, and so many more.

And the whole world asks, “Where is the hope? Where?!”

To be honest, when unspeakable horrors happen over and over, when innocent people die, my own natural, human reaction, even as a Believer, is to wonder, “O God, where are You in all of this?” My intellect and a faith deep down inside knows He hasn’t gone anywhere, that it has nothing to do with God’s inability, that it all has to do with God’s Love for us being our choice to accept or reject, and that the worst choice ever by man and woman was in the Garden of Eden by eating from the tree of good and evil. And that the world has paid the price ever since, and that the Word says that evil will grow exponentially in the last days, and that God is holding back the end of all things so that all have opportunity to be saved, and when that day finally happens, all this evil will end. Hallelujah.

I know all that. And I truly believe-help-my-unbelief all that. And I know God still has the whole world in His hands. And I know He understands the pain and senselessness of evil because He was there at Calvary when His Son was murdered. But in times like this, my human heart (and I don’t think I’m alone) can’t help but ask...

“Why, God? When does this madness all end? I don’t get it.”

Can I say that? I just did.

Because while there may be practical things (like stiffer laws) that can be done to hinder evil, there is no one earthly fix. Evil’s web is crazy and seems to have an endless, trickle-down thread. There is nowhere to go but Up. And yet in the midst of all that questioning and mystery, I also know that now is no time for Christ-ones to hide their Light and live in a “rather not deal with it” bubble. How, then, shall we Believers live? 

“But brother, you shouldn’t talk like that. Don’t question, just trust.” Well, brother, you apparently have not met these men…

“O Lord, how long will You forget me? Forever? How long will You look the other way?”

—King David, Psalm 13:1

“My God, my God, why have You abandoned Me?”

—Jesus Christ, son of God, Matthew 27:46

Trite Christianese answers or escapism help no one, and the Bible has our back. The Bible’s characters are raw and real. And yet even in the midst of honest questions, the Bible time and again also holds the only real rope of hope. Sometimes you know that from personal experience, and sometimes, like now, you need to remind yourself once more that it is so. Which is why in all faith and against all logic (what some would call foolishness), and amidst honest questions from another horrific moment of evil, that I am still choosing to swim upstream to the One who created all good and truly hates evil, sees all evil, understands it all, sorrows through it all, and has a master plan to end it all in His perfect timing. His promise-keeping is perfect and trustworthy, I know it full well...and He even “gets” my questions and doesn’t laugh.

Many are saying, though,“enough with those ‘thoughts and prayers’—do something.” Good point. Christ-ones should be among the first to be on board for doing all we can, as was the case following my hometown tragedy of October 1979, to better protect innocent lives from future senseless acts of evil. But by all means, God calls us—calls me—to also continue to stand in the gap for the helpless and the deeply grieving, to “weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15) I don't know about the "thoughts," but the prayers must continue. How many stories have you and I heard, or personally experienced, about someone really having no words to say to someone in the midst of tragedy but praying God’s peace that passes all understanding (Philippians 4:7) — and it happens!? Up close or from a distance, our prayers have healing and comforting power beyond our comprehension.

When I step back and exhale in times like this, I know that I know that while improvements and fixes may indeed be worth the effort here below, there is ultimately only one, only One, who can and will one day overcome evil once and for all—for all who dare Believe, that glorious day when Jesus Christ returns to make a new heaven and a new earth, with a trumpet fanfare that seems to shout “Enough!” A day that is coming sooner than we can imagine…

“I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, 'Look, God’s home is now among His people! He will live with them, and they will be His people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.'”—Revelation 21:1-4, NLT

Hold onto that, O my soul. And until that day, on Christ the solid Rock I will stand (again), and pray, and will seek to carry Him with me, to one person at a time…even and especially during those times when “I don’t get it.” Yes, you can say that.

Parable From the Trail

Every happening, great and small, is a parable whereby God speaks to us, and the art of life is to get the message.—Malcolm Muggeridge

The joy of thriving on this journey with God while here on planet Earth seems to come down to one of these previous words: With. Relationship trumps trying to live by a checklist of "dos and don'ts"  every time. Yet in the routine of walking the rhythms of daily life, without even realizing it, it can be easy to be lulled into following Heaven-sent instructions and trying to make the best of it, figuring that God is looking on from, well, somewhere. 

Then there is this: "And Enoch walked in habitual fellowship with God..." (Genesis 5:24) and "he was commended as one who pleased God." (Hebrews 11:5) Recalibrating...

It's good to know that getting back to "with God" mode, like Enoch, is never very far away.  That was my mission one Sunday afternoon while setting out on a familiar and incredibly peaceful trail. It began with a fresh mode of transport: snowshoes instead of trail shoes. Adventurous and great exercise, yes, but also like that recurring nightmare where you desperately want to run but your feet won't move. Which, as it turned out, was the perfect setup for an encouraging parable from the trail. Because as Jesus modeled throughout the Gospels, the most practical and essential principles for joyfully living out this Walk often get through to us most effectively through storytelling and through those ways in which we best connect with Him. ...

...A few hundred yards beyond the trailhead, a crossroad of sorts; arrows pointing in two directions, demanding a choice. The path to the right seemed to be the clear favorite of many. The one to the left, however, seemed to have been the favorite of just one other hiker thus far. And though the exact passage didn't show up in bright lights right then and there, the heart of it did: "Ancient path! Dude, take the ancient path, it's really good!" I wrote it down in a little notebook in my back pocket. Now where did that come from? Later back at home, the answer:

"Stand at the crossing and consider the ancient path, for it is good and it leads to Me. Walk on this path, and you will find rest for your souls." 

(Jeremiah 6:16, The Voice)

And so I went left, where the one other guy a few hours or days before had gone as well. From there, the parable of the trail, in all of its impressions and imagination, began to download quickly. Words to tuck away and yet words to pass on as a baton ...

Yes, this path you've chosen is good, but as you can see, it is narrow, and few travel it. You stay on it anyway, because it's Mine.

There are many seasons on this good path where you can move ahead briskly or even run like the wind. But there are also seasons of slow, difficult plodding, like right now. In every season, however, My cheer will be the same: "Forward!"

Besides, there is beauty in the plodding season: It forces you to slow down and take it all in. So, remember to pause regularly and look Up often...Remember, I'm right here with you, every step of the way.

Now don't let this scene discourage you, but take a picture of it anyway as a reminder:

Some who have journeyed this narrow path have caved in to the temptation to quit too soon, or find an easier way, or just not really care much anymore. When that temptation comes your way, and it will, remember My promise that won't fail: "I have a plan."

Sometimes (many times, in fact) along the way, I will lead you out of your comfort zone, not to spook you but to strengthen your faith, and because on occasion you will, without fanfare, be blazing trails for others to follow...whether you realize it or not. And whenever you begin to wonder where this is all leading, just keep your eyes fixed to the trail markers of My Word and My Presence.







I remembered that "pause regularly and look Up" thing often as the plodding became as though walking through cement. And just as the trail was about to loop back to the trailhead, I figured the parable download was done, but instead, a grand finale:

Just remember, you often won't realize you're making progress on this Journey until you pause to look back at how far you've come...

With Me.

(Originally published March 2017)

Show Me

Cunningham Pond, fall 2016

Some mornings, you wake up with overwhelming brain clutter.

A night of restless sleep filled with multiple bizarre dreams that had no connection to one another.

“Turn your pillow over,” mom used to say.

But on these kind of nights, the movies keep playing, just on a different channel.

It is a relief to wake up, even if very early in the morning.

If you’ve been there, you know.

Coffee helps but it is hard to focus on anything after all of that.

It would be easy to start the day in a tailspin and be a bummer to all around you…if you let it.

Sometimes, a better decision is to simply turn on music that will soothe the soul, as David’s harp did for Saul, and which can counter the bizarreness of the night…

…And soon, a prompting out of nowhere: “Psalm 25.”

“I don’t even think I know what that one is.” More dream craziness?

Until you turn and your eyes fall upon this counterattack to the night’s bizarreness:

Show me Your ways, Lord, teach me Your paths.

Guide me in Your truth and teach me, for You are God my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long.—Psalm 25:4-5

Your. You. Hope. All…day…long. 

Just camp out there for a few minutes.

The atmosphere is changing now.

Who can explain how that happens?

One translation answers:  “for You are my God, my Savior—Helper. Victor.”

Over the brain clutter, and so much more.

And as you read these words over one more time, a song “randomly” shows up on the playlist.

Wait. No way. How can this be?…

“Holy! There is no one like You,

There is none beside You.

Open up my eyes in wonder.

And show me who You are

And fill me with Your Love

And lead me in Your Love to those around me.”

Even in the overwhelming brain or any other kind of clutter, it was a morning-after reminder that God’s promises never fail:

“…with a deep longing you will seek Me and require Me as a vital necessity, and you will find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.”—Jeremiah 29:13, Amplified

Selah…