I say "thank You" this morning for all the sweet little things...
the sun bright
the morning cool
the husband sweet
the children snuggly
the wisdom provided
the love all encompassing.
I give You my laundry list of what I need...
healing for this
healing for that
healing for others
love for Your Word
softened hearts
clarity of direction
wisdom with finances
The laundry list expands...my mind reels, I can't keep all the thoughts in one place...cannot make sense of all that is overwhelming me....this friend needs this, this child has this need, my husband, my parents, my church, my pastors, my heart....
Lord, Lord! Please make sense of my mess. Please hear my words and the cries - the nonverbal utterings - of my heart and piece them together. This is the chaos. You are the Master. You will weave all of it together and make something beautiful of this mess that is placed at Your feet. Your hands are mighty and powerful! Your works are wonderful!
You heal, You create, You rescue, You save, You soften, You teach, You give, You protect, You restore, You redeem, You love.
Your love is better than life!! Better than anything and anyone that holds me here, in this place, on this earth! Better than ALL.
I surrender all to You, Lord and seek Your will.
Will I continue to give thanks when things don't turn out the way I think they should?
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
More Grace to Ponder
To be grateful is to recognize the Love of God in everything He has given us - and He has given us everything. Every breath we draw is a gift of His love, every moment of existence is a grace, for it brings with it immense graces from Him. Gratitude therefore takes nothing for granted, is never unresponsive, is constantly awakening to new wonder and to praise of the goodness of God. For the grateful person knows that God is good, not by hearsay but by experience. And that is what makes all the difference.
Thomas Merton
"Re-posted" from a friend. Italics added.
This says it all, encompassing all that my recent thoughts have acknowledged.
Gratefulness.
Goodness.
Grace.
All is grace.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Grace 101 - Intro to Grace
A woman whose book I have come to love as a favorite makes the statement that all is grace.
All? Every bit of it? The sum total, the entire lot, or each and every individual moment and experience?
Isn't it just the beaming faces of accomplishment? The saving of one from some devastating illness or accident? The palpable current that flows between lovers in love? The blessing of children, the fruit of the womb and heart? Flowers gifted for no apparent reason, or the unexpected hug from a loved one? Or perhaps the narrow miss of something so dreadful, too awful to contemplate?
Could it also be...
spilled milk?
a broken heart?
a missing child?
a fatal illness?
a tragic mishap?
a distant husband?
a painful marriage?
If we count all that He gives us as grace - unmerited ( not earned ), undeserved, freely given favor - then we must count all - the overall, AND the momentary. For the complete picture only is His to see, not ours. We count as grace all that is because the moments add up to the sum total which is His perfect plan for us. It is why we have hope and we look to eternity for it is there that the minutes add up to what is important - the total of our lives. The complete and perfect sum.
All? Every bit of it? The sum total, the entire lot, or each and every individual moment and experience?
Isn't it just the beaming faces of accomplishment? The saving of one from some devastating illness or accident? The palpable current that flows between lovers in love? The blessing of children, the fruit of the womb and heart? Flowers gifted for no apparent reason, or the unexpected hug from a loved one? Or perhaps the narrow miss of something so dreadful, too awful to contemplate?
Could it also be...
spilled milk?
a broken heart?
a missing child?
a fatal illness?
a tragic mishap?
a distant husband?
a painful marriage?
If we count all that He gives us as grace - unmerited ( not earned ), undeserved, freely given favor - then we must count all - the overall, AND the momentary. For the complete picture only is His to see, not ours. We count as grace all that is because the moments add up to the sum total which is His perfect plan for us. It is why we have hope and we look to eternity for it is there that the minutes add up to what is important - the total of our lives. The complete and perfect sum.
Lord, may we acknowledge that all is Your grace abounding in love. Perfect love. That Your plan is for hope and a future, a future with You. That we trust what we cannot see because we believe in the promises You have given us.
All IS grace.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
A Psalm of Love
Today, my heart hurts.
I long for the time we are together.
When life won't be the complicated mess that it is.
When people I care about won't be sad. Or angry. Or desperate.
When the only joy we will know is Your presence, the very presence of You.
I love You, Jesus.
I sing songs of praise to You.
My soul rejoices.
You give life to me.
You have lifted me from the depths.
You know my days and You have a plan for each one of them.
May my life reflect You. May it point to You and Your wonderful deeds.
Even when it looks messy. Insurmountable. Impossible.
For all things, all things, are possible...
With You.
This, the color of my love, the song of my heart, the praise of my lips.
May it ever be to You. Most High. Almighty.
Sustainer of life, Giver of all good things.
Teach me to bring glory to Your Name.
I long for the time we are together.
When life won't be the complicated mess that it is.
When people I care about won't be sad. Or angry. Or desperate.
When the only joy we will know is Your presence, the very presence of You.
I love You, Jesus.
I sing songs of praise to You.
My soul rejoices.
You give life to me.
You have lifted me from the depths.
You know my days and You have a plan for each one of them.
May my life reflect You. May it point to You and Your wonderful deeds.
Even when it looks messy. Insurmountable. Impossible.
For all things, all things, are possible...
With You.
This, the color of my love, the song of my heart, the praise of my lips.
May it ever be to You. Most High. Almighty.
Sustainer of life, Giver of all good things.
Teach me to bring glory to Your Name.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
The Believing
I didn't have my camera with me. It was the perfect shot.
An entire row of them, flying past the window of my car. I've stopped to let them pass, the sound of the gears changing, chains ratcheting, the rubber of the tires as they hit the pavement and quickly pick up on the other side. The wheels are spinning, the boys are laughing, hurrying past to get to class.
Further away, the soybeans flutter in a breeze that belies the sticky heat. Silvery waves that go on for miles. The sun beats down on us. We've got very few places to retreat. The pavement is hot and the air is heavy. The tabernacle, of interminable age, with lofty heights and creaky wood is a marginal refuge in the dismal heat of the day. Whatever breeze there happens to be floats through the open spaces between the planks.
Later, after we've lifted our praises together in that lovely place, and the visiting evangelist has spoken Truth to us from the Word, an older gentleman stops me.
"See here," he says, "Thomas said he must see it to believe it, but that's not what the pastor said, he said you must believe it to see it."
"Yes." says I.
He goes on, "it's like a wheelbarrow see, one hand you have works, but you aren't saved by works. The other hand is the faith. The believing."
Ah yes, the believing.
But what's IN the wheelbarrow?
What is it that I have out there in front of me, pushing before...or perhaps always reaching toward?
Shouldn't I know, in order to really believe? Believe that what is here is only temporary and that what is "there" is more real than what I could ever know now, here?
Is it hope?
Is it Jesus?
If one hand, even ONE lets go, that wheelbarrow becomes practically impossible to move. Certainly far more difficult than it was ever intended.
Is it the working out of my salvation?
On the one hand, faith. The choice to believe and be saved.
On the other hand, works. The product of my salvation, by faith.
The one hand doing tangible things that can be seen, the other hand simply making the choice to do what is asked.
To have faith.
To believe.
An entire row of them, flying past the window of my car. I've stopped to let them pass, the sound of the gears changing, chains ratcheting, the rubber of the tires as they hit the pavement and quickly pick up on the other side. The wheels are spinning, the boys are laughing, hurrying past to get to class.
Further away, the soybeans flutter in a breeze that belies the sticky heat. Silvery waves that go on for miles. The sun beats down on us. We've got very few places to retreat. The pavement is hot and the air is heavy. The tabernacle, of interminable age, with lofty heights and creaky wood is a marginal refuge in the dismal heat of the day. Whatever breeze there happens to be floats through the open spaces between the planks.
Later, after we've lifted our praises together in that lovely place, and the visiting evangelist has spoken Truth to us from the Word, an older gentleman stops me.
"See here," he says, "Thomas said he must see it to believe it, but that's not what the pastor said, he said you must believe it to see it."
"Yes." says I.
He goes on, "it's like a wheelbarrow see, one hand you have works, but you aren't saved by works. The other hand is the faith. The believing."
Ah yes, the believing.
But what's IN the wheelbarrow?
What is it that I have out there in front of me, pushing before...or perhaps always reaching toward?
Shouldn't I know, in order to really believe? Believe that what is here is only temporary and that what is "there" is more real than what I could ever know now, here?
Is it hope?
Is it Jesus?
If one hand, even ONE lets go, that wheelbarrow becomes practically impossible to move. Certainly far more difficult than it was ever intended.
Is it the working out of my salvation?
On the one hand, faith. The choice to believe and be saved.
On the other hand, works. The product of my salvation, by faith.
The one hand doing tangible things that can be seen, the other hand simply making the choice to do what is asked.
To have faith.
To believe.
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