On the last day...............

The New Year arrives soon.

My mind races ahead and tries to peer into days, weeks, months.
The questions quickly follow.
What if...?
How will I...?
I want to begin the year with a heart lifted up in HOPE. Yet sometimes concerens threaten to pull me down.
And in all of this I wonder, "What does God really want from me this year?" I find out on a chilly morning at a wooden table in my kitchen, fat coffee mug  in my hand--

{God} takes no pleasure in the strength of a horse or in human might. No, the Lord's delight is in those who are in awe of  Him, those who put their hope in His unfailing love. Psalm 147:10-11

I ponder those first phrases--the strength of a horse, human might. What does that mean? Oh, the striving, the endless effort, the independence.
Then the others--those who fear Him, those who put their HOPE in His unfailing love. And what does that mean? Yes, the abiding, the relationship, the trusting.
I catch a glimpse of freedom then. Because it's the second that brings not just a smile, not just a bit of joy, but DELIGHT to God's heart. Delight!
Yes, you and I can chase the fear of failure out the door because it's trust God wants--not results. And we can welcome unfailing love with these words instead:

Even  if ______________________________________________
    God's love will not fail me.
No matter how ________________________________________
    God's love will not fail me.

I write out my concerns in a list just like the one above. Then I lean back from the smiling  and set down my mug.  I feel warmer already.

We may not know what the New Year holds...
but we can be certain of Love that will not let us go.  Not let us go... not let us go.

Fear Not!

I don’t know how to write or teach or counsel without talking about our fears.

I sometimes teach workshops and get to spend time with those who come, and one question that seems to lurk behind whatever else they may ask is this:   Will I ever stop being afraid to _______?

My answer…  No.
You won’t.
Neither will I.
And this isn’t just about writing words—it’s any endeavor where we offer a piece of ourselves, lay bare our hearts for the world, give something we’ve held close.

You know what that is for you: words, art, music, a mission, a dream, a child, a relationship.
Maybe what we’re really asking, without even knowing it, is this: Can I do this and not be crucified?

    Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and  take up his cross and follow me.” Matthew 16:24

 

We blush a bit when we think of it this way but didn’t even Jesus ask for the cup to pass from Him? No one wants this part of it. Not even the Son of God. And yet it’s in the giving, the laying down, the opening ourselves up that we find a path to joy.

    Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:2

Yes, there are good things—such great things—on the other side of fear, the other side of dying to ourselves. But the only way from here to there is through it.

We try to make ourselves ready for the task. But there aren’t enough conferences, books, wise friends, experiences, degrees to take away that shaking in our knees.

Our only hope?

Do it anyway...

Merry★* 。 • ˚ ˚ •。★Christmas★ 。* 。*FROM MY HOUSE TO YOURS!!
° 。 ° ˚* _Π_____*。*˚★ 。* 。*。 • ˚ ˚ •。★
˚ ˛ •˛•*/______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛★ 。* 。*★ 。* 。*
˚ ˛ •˛• ｜ 田田｜門｜ ˚And a Happy New Year...  2011!!!!!

Stop perfecting the Perfect...........

I curl up on the couch, coffee in one hand and a pen in the other. Feeling weary all the way to my bones.

Thinking  of all the ways I fall short...
the corners of the house uncleaned.
the corners of my heart that are the same.
Whispering prayers about feeling too small, about things seeming impossible, of never being able to grasp that word that haunts the Daughters of Eve--perfect.

On the horizon of my heart a half-remembered Scripture slowly appears. I search for it. When I find it, I look in wonder...

The Lord will perfect that which concerns me. Psalm 138:8 NKJV

Twin truths slip from that sentence. First, God alone knows what perfect really means. And let me assure you, it's not the standards we set. Second, only He can make it happen in our lives--and He will.
God's "perfect" may not match what we have in our minds. It may not come when we planned. It may not work out the way we always imagined it would.
But God will perfect that which concerns me, that which concerns you.
Is there any better proof than a baby in a manger born on Christmas morning?
Jesus was unexpected, not-as-planned, didn't-see-that-coming, more-than-we-imagined. In one word: Perfect.

And through Him, we can trust that somehow, inexplicably, God will make everything else in our lives right too.
We are imperfect but His love never, ever is.
That, my friends, is worth celebrating.
I get up from the couch. I set down my pen and coffee.
I find myself humming, "Joy to the world..."

When you feel broken...

 The dish slipped from my hand, hit the floor, shattered into a million pieces.
I sat right down beside it.
Sobbing.
It was one of my favorites, a gift from Vivie.
In the cabinet I can see my other dishes.
Plain. Glass. Replaceable. But this dish?
I treasured it.
I think of a phrase God uses over and over to describe us...
Treasured possession.   (Deuteronomy 7:6)
And in that moment I know with all my heart that He cares about our brokenness. He cares about our hurts. It matters to Him when we are shattered. He came down beside us so that we would know that fully.
You're not just glass to Him. YOU are not "Replaceable."
No, you are the one He loves.
You are the one He treasures.
Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6:21)
Where is God's treasure?
With you.
Then where is His heart?
With you as well.
Right there. Right now. In the middle of your brokenness.
Only He can put you back together...
And you can be sure He loves you enough to do it.

Some days writing opens the flood gates......

I pick up a pen just to write what I have to do this week.
I scratch a few words...and there is no ink left.

Tears well and tumble over my sleep-deprived cheeks onto the page,
I whisper, "Yes, Lord, yes--I too am empty."

I think of you and wonder how many of you feel that way too.
Starting a new week, feeling as if you've run dry.

So let us come together to the One who came for us...

Lord, We are empty.
You promised us life to the full. We are empty.
So we come to you and ask that you would spill out peace into our hearts. We are empty.
Flow love into the places where we need it most.  We are empty.
Renew our strength, bring back our joy. We are empty.
Restore us so that we can be a living letter for you this week. We are empty.
We thank you that you are the ink in our pens,
the life in our hearts, the One who gives us all we need...and more.
We love you. Fill us.

Show that you are a letter from Christ...written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts. 2 Corinthians 3:3

come, sit a while....

I'm sitting at my kitchen table this morning. The sun is soft on the yellow walls. The coffee cup is warm in my hands.

And I wonder, What would he say if  he were here?
This is the hardest part of being a writer--not having you with me always. But in a way I do.
You know that, don't you?
That I think of, pray for, carry YOU in my heart.
If you were here this morning, I'd make you a pot of tea. I'd pass a plate of  fresh bread  across the table and I'd say.
"Before you start this week, I want you to know--
You're loved.
You matter.
You're seen and known.
And that thing you're worried about?
The One who made you is going to make it okay too."
Then I'd listen long and hard to your heart.
I'd send you out the door with a smile and tell you,
"Come back tomorrow."
You will, won't you?

won't you?

"See you on the other side." ...............

Those were his last words to me......

Then the phone rang just a few days after thanksgiving.
And my heart released someone I loved deeply to the hands of heaven.

No more Christmas hugs or special cheesecake on the deck with one fork.
My heart and my profession make me conscious of those for whom this is not the most wonderful time of year. I’ve seen a bit of “the other side of the manger.” Even in that lowly stable the shadow of what was to come fell across Christ.  

Christmas isn’t just about the merry and bright.
It’s also about Love deeper than we know—deep enough to conquer even death.
That’s where the wildest joy is found.
We don’t have to check our pain at the door of Christmas.
We can bring it, full force, to the One who knows that the manger leads to the cross. He also knows the unexpected joy that can come on the other side...

And when my time is due...    I'll look for you on the other side, dear friend. 

Busy, busy, too busy...............

'Tis the season to be busy. fa-la-la-la-la.....

There are gifts to buy, meals to make, trips to take, decorations to be hung, songs to be sung, places to go, people to see...
It's December 2nd and I'm already tired.
Anyone else?
I read the words...
Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10
But how can I be still when there's so much going on?
Of course, the first answer is to simplify my life.
Yet the kind of stillness God is talking about isn't just about my circumstances. It's about being still on the inside.
I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother. Psalm 131:2
What is a weaned child like?
One that has learned to stop asking for
more, more, more
and instead simply rests in the arms of
love, love, love.
My hurry and stress come from that want of more. I want to do more, be more, pack more in to these few short days. Then it seems God whispers to my heart, "Enough. You are enough. You have enough. In the middle of the busy, make a quiet place inside and stay with me. My love is what you really need."
I settle, quiet down, breathe a sigh of relief.
The miracle of Christmas?
God came for us so we could come to Him.
Even in the busy, broken, chaos of our lives.
'Tis the season to be still.