Author: Lisa Anne Tindal

The Book of Luke – 24 Days of Jesus, an Advent Experience

Abuse Survivor, Advent, bravery, Christmas, confidence, contentment, daughters, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Lessons for the Learned

At some point I must have been set on remembering the sermon.

The margin of my Bible is marked with my interpretations and revelations from a passage.

“And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭4:17-19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Spirit of the Lord is on me and if you believe in His birth, His death, His resurrection, on you, too.

God has given us all opportunities to proclaim the good news to the poor.

To proclaim liberty to those without purpose, those who are trapped in the bondage of sin, shame, doubt, fear, unbelief. To remind myself and others of the gracious rescue from these places.

To those who are blind, we like Jesus are to help them see the light of the gospel, also known as “good news”.

We need reminding, all distracted at times and unable to see, our eyes covered by the blinders of this crazy world.

We are here now to tell our stories.

Our stories of why we believe, why we know we’re better believing than not.

It’s that simple. Life before Jesus was not what life with Jesus is and will be.

Why we’re tempted not to believe at times and why we know we can’t return to that road or jump from that dangerous place again, taking advantage of the grace that will catch us in our fall.

We’ve heard the Word, we read the accounts and like the crowd Luke wrote about, we are astounded by all the healing, we are now learned ones, for we have experienced salvation and healing and we continue to grow, we continue to be open to His lessons.

Jesus was born to bring us salvation.

For thirty some years he was a healer, a teacher, a speaker through parables, readable lessons.

May I never stop learning, ever progressing towards Him, to be like Jesus. May I embrace the opportunities in front of me to more purposefully tell.

Most of all, may what is said about me be more consistently true, more about Jesus than about me.

I want to leave a legacy.

“and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭3:9-10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

My surrender is my story.

The Book of Luke – 24 Days of Jesus, an Advent Experience

Advent, Angels, Art, Children, contentment, courage, daughters, family, hope, kindness, love, memoir, mercy, Motherhood, painting, praise, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

It Matters to Me

Luke, Chapter 3 is evidence of the writer’s intellect, I decide. Luke, a physician explored and recorded the lineage of Jesus. It would be easy to avoid the 15 verses with challenging names, like skipping over the Book of Leviticus on yet another plan to read through the Bible.

But, it is relevant, this lineage, this record of ancestry.

All the relatives of Joseph and thereby Jesus, the Son of God.

“the son of Enos, the son of Seth, the son of Adam, the son of God.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭3:38‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It matters to me, the humanity of Jesus, the lining up of people, just like the people lined up before me.

Makes me reflect on our genetics and our similarities, the ones before me, making straight my way through the memories of their own ways.

“Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall become straight, and the rough places shall become level ways,”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭3:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

My grandma made the best of paths she may have thought might be straight, she made it through the crooked places and leveled her life with scripture and determination, she always made a way.

I told my “Aunt Boo” that I felt my grandma with me and in me. I’ve sold hand-painted Christmas cards this year.

I remembered her carefully designing her velvety Christmas ornaments, covered in pieces and parts of old jewelry.

She used the long stick pins and carefully created elaborate pieces. I see her now.

She’s in the room they added on, the double bed filled up the room and there was space just wide enough for her beside it. She retreated to this place, I was invited in to sit quietly on the bed.

A dresser was covered with sectioned flat containers, sparkly, metallic, extravagant and antique. She stood for hours, her tiny frame steady, her hands working constantly. No words spoken and her mouth set just so, her tongue tipped up toward the curve of her lip, peeking through, she worked with her mouth “set just right”.

She was industrious. She placed the ornaments in big flat boxes and with her little memorandum pad, she loaded her car and she made her deliveries.

I am forever impacted by her choice to pursue something so joyful, to do something that was fully and completely her choice to do.

It matters to me, this characteristic of my grandmother in me.

I’ve been selling my art again.

Luke reminds us that everything is purposeful and everything matters.

In the first verses of Chapter 3, John begins to tell of a new concept, repentance and forgiveness of sins. Isaiah the prophet had written of John, a voice that would come from the wilderness. The same John who “jumped” in his mother, Elizabeth’s womb while in the room with Mary, pregnant with Jesus, this John would baptize many and baptize Jesus.

And Jesus heard his father, God say, “you are my son”.

“Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heavens were opened, and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form, like a dove; and a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭3:21-22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It’s doubtful I’ll ever be a theologian, doubtful I’ll return to any further education.

Life and God are my teachers now.

Life, the enormity of it around me, exposure to wisdom, thoughts, experiences. God helps me see the relevance of Him in it all.

I’ve just finished reading an article I’ll read again and maybe more. The wisdom of a man over why his ancestry is significant, why clarity matters, why approaching things hidden or unexplored is something we all should do.

It is never too late.

Two gentlemen, both guys who are wise and caring and ones I respect, pointed me in the direction of this piece.

Bruce Springsteen

We are all individuals formed by those who made us. Our heredity is more than physical, it is experiential.

It is a brave choice to consider the weaving of our ways, to look at them and say, oh, I see now this horrible or wonderful thing, how it made me, me.

Some might wonder what these thoughts have to do with Christmas. I get that.

I don’t know why; but, I said a long series of “thank you, Gods” beside my bed today. It began and then just became a spontaneous building of more and more. God kept up the conversation, brought to memory all of my before to say hey, look at now!

This life I have, this life I know.

It is absolutely a life of hope. My lineage and my life experiences at one time convinced me it could never be so.

Like Luke details the way the 30 year old Jesus came to be, it is similar for you and me.

The breath of heaven that brought Jesus is the same breath of God that created you and me.

On purpose and with purpose that life causes us to sometimes lose. I told someone yesterday I wish I hadn’t returned to art so late in life.

One of my thank yous this morning was that I am here and I have art and life and so much more.

I have hope.

Advent, the days before Christmas, these are the days to have hope.

It matters to me that my grandma chose hope, that she became independent in her pursuit of making beautiful things, that she was about my age when she began this thing that kept her captivated, made her feel significant, brought joy to so many.

It matters to me that I got to see what I didn’t understand as hope back then, but understand it now.

She prepared the way for me. I pray I’m preparing the way for my own daughter, my son and all the other children yet to come.

Luke, a Book about the life of Jesus. I’m no seminarian, I’m just sharing what he’s bringing to light …24 Days of Jesus, my Advent Experience.

Hope.

The Book of Luke – 24 Days of Jesus, an Advent Experience

Advent, Angels, bravery, confidence, Faith, family, memoir, mercy, Motherhood, sons, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I mentioned I knew little of Advent before. I acted as if I did when my cousin gifted me with a package containing images to display, to mark each day.

Now, this year I can’t find the Advent activity and most likely won’t be going back to search through the attic.

Instead, I saw something going around on social media. I’ll read and reflect on a chapter of Luke for 24 days, a look at the life and death and resurrection of the baby that became my Savior.

December 2, I began:

Reading a chapter of the Book of Luke a day, 24 days, for Advent, a new way to honor the tradition, to truly connect with Christmas.

In the 1st chapter, Elizabeth and Zechariah, although old, realize they’ll be parents to John, the one who’ll make way for Jesus.

Elizabeth feels her baby move as soon as Mary, with child, enters the room. Mary is surprised, uncertain, but settles into the surprise of being chosen. It’s the beginning, the beautiful beginning. Everything must’ve felt uncertain, maybe even giddy.

A baby changes everything.

December 3, Luke 2:

The chapter covers a whole lot of life. I wish Luke had lingered longer in several places. I’d like to have known more about Jesus in the manger, about little boy Jesus in the temple, about Jesus being described by his father Joseph, about the way Mary’s face appeared, her emotion as she took it all in, as she listened and pondered.

Jesus Found at The Temple

I wish I could have been amongst the people.

I believe for miles around the angels’ song was heard, the one that followed their calming of the throng, assuring them not to be afraid, through a song.

“”Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

One verse captivates me this year. Possibly because I will soon “go by grandma”.

It makes all of this divine story so human. After the angels announced the birth, they ascended back to heaven. The shepherds made way to see the baby and there must have been a commotion, a flurry of comments and conversation.

Like we are today, waiting room waiters, nursery window peering and chances to be invited in finally, oh, to see the baby!

I imagine there were questions of Joseph and a paparazzi like reaction. To be the first to see what had been spoken of, hoped for and possibly disbelieved…what a special occasion!

There he was, a baby born to a teenage virgin, the one God sent his angels to welcome into our world.

Mary, oblivious to the crowd, cradles her baby.

I love this part. the part every woman who has ever given birth knows.

I love the realization of the miraculous.

Mary swaddled Jesus and simply “pondered”. Luke includes no description of her expression, I imagine a serenity, a glow.

“But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today, on this 2nd Day of Advent, I’m praying with “I will” rather than “help me”. I’m remembering Mary and her acceptance of what became her opportunity, the time she was chosen for.

I’ve decided to shift my mindset of “hope so” to deliberately so. It might be what I have been missing, might allow me to forgo regret over what I’ve not finished and replace it with resolve to carry it through.

That’s what Mary did.

She believed what God told her He would accomplish in her.

Luke may have left out their late night discussions, she and Joseph still so blown away by this pregnancy. Mary might have had some “hormonal” moments, fear, fatigue and even, dread.

She was human, she was uncertain.

But, I believe she decided to be deliberate.

Deliberate in her seeking

Deliberate in her surrender

Deliberate in her notice of God all along her journey

Deliberate in her quiet pondering

My prayer today.

Tell me what to say.

I want to be deliberate in all my ways.

Luke, Chapter 2 ends with their son becoming their teacher. He takes off on his own, they panic until they find him in the temple.

He tells them why he’s there.

And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:48-49‬ ‭

Mary begins to learn a lesson, a human one again, one I’ve learned of late, the need to allow our children to individuate.

Again, she’s quiet.

And his mother treasured up all these things in her heart.

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:51‬ ‭

It’s true, Lord. I learn when I get quiet. Help me to be deliberate in the quiet.

Not Stolen Joy

Abuse Survivor, Advent, bravery, Faith, grace, memoir, mercy, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

More and more everyday, I’m shrugging off, tossing aside, assuredly changing my understanding of what my faith should mean, should be to me.

Believing joy might be for me.

You won’t understand unless you were raised with harsh reins and criticism meant to be corrective counseling that was more control and sometimes coercion.

I’m not accustomed to traditions like Advent and I had no clue until I began to seek to know, the meaning of so many beautiful traditions.

I’m realizing the church of my youth considered itself independent and non-denominational; but, what they taught me were lessons like you’ll never be as good or good enough or those people don’t love Jesus as much as we do otherwise they’d walk around like us, looking miserable and solemn and bent under their inventory of guilty sin.

I messed up the Advent tradition. I started yesterday instead of today.

It’s okay.

I’ll begin from the beginning again, I’ll glean from the glory of the story of the newborn Jesus, even more new and life changing things.

I shifted to a jog in the stretch of straight on the trail. I thought of my morning journal and my note to myself.

His joy remains in me.

This new comprehension of joy, it can’t be taken. I’ll know fullness in my relationship with God when I have joy no matter my circumstances or successes.

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭16:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Up ahead the birds are flying from tree to tree as if the trail is a river below them and they’re crossing to get to the forest. I get closer, they flutter away and then one, just one remains, as if to be sure I see. Bright red and healthy, sitting on a branch up high like a king.

A beautiful presence.

Yes, I see.

I finish with a song that allows me to go all the way back home, my version of a run, the rhythm of the song, the timing is right, I have no inclination not to go on.

I’m as light as I can be, the thought of struggling so very far removed.

The foxes in the vineyard will not steal my joy. Audrey Assad

‘Cause you are, good to me, God.

And every time I hear the words about the foxes in the vineyard, I’m stronger than before, all those sly and conniving distractions and distractors …no more for me,

no more stolen joy.

Good to Me

A Sort of Shift

Uncategorized

I watched the sun take the sky from the evening, it was taking over the day.

It became less beautiful but captivating all the same.

My typical steps were interrupted

By morning today, it was an unavoidable display.

The clouds were thick and shaded grey, layered like a trifle in a pretty “get together” bowl.

I walked outside to watch the movement, a sort of shift towards the right and then I turned to look for more.

Up above the peak of the roof, I found it.

The crescent was shining, fuzzy from the gradient atmospheric filters.

I found it again.

My fascination with the sky, my willing and wistful on purpose bend towards deepness.

It is resurfacing, the blinders of circumstance and cynicism causing constant complaining,

They’re falling off, filtering my embrace again of my God.

Of his grace, His keeping me, helping me, being again, my rescue.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills.

From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭121:1-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Writing prompted by the word “Deep” and thinking of a question my sister asked last week. She saw my gaze in an old photo I shared and wondered “whatcha thinkin ‘about?”

I answered, “Ain’t no tellin’.”

Linking up with others here: http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/11/29/fmf-link-up-deep/

Believing

Abuse Survivor, Advent, Christmas, contentment, courage, freedom, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

I smiled when I saw the few seconds of the scene, the little boy who didn’t believe and then

Believed again.

The child who was intrigued enough to board the big train and then challenged with whether he’d stay on board. “The Polar Express”, I love its many lessons story!

Satan has been using some things to silence my story. I can barely conjure up the magnificence of my hopeful plan of before. Circumstances and choices make disbelief make more sense than believing.

Blinders have been placed on my eyes and my heart seems a little muffled to the miraculous now.

I’ve noticed I’m no longer noticing like before.

Restore my ability to see you, Lord.

I wrote it down, I believe God loves it when I pray this way,

He knows it’s really me.

Restore the woman filled with wonder, filled with hope, filled with ideas and the idea that possibly it could be.

Set my feet back to following and my footfall a happy little bounce with intention.

This Lord, is my request.

Like the little boy who believed, help my unbelief. The child almost yanked from the top of the perilously traveling train, show me the same.

The same joy that comes from believing, the same confirmation that the seemingly crazy trip’s worth traveling.

To arrive back at the place of wonder and to find a treasure like the bell he thought he’d lost in his pocket.

Yes, show me that believing makes all the difference!

Be my conductor, Heavenly Father.

Get me back to the safest destination, the place of believing!

“And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭1:45‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Yes, I believe!

Changes in Just a Moment

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Homeless, Prayer, Serving, Vulnerability

When I told her I realized clearly a name for the feeling, I believe she knew, was surprised but she knew. I told her I’d been doing all I could with very little coming back in return.

I couldn’t name the feeling, fatigue like emotional drudgery.

But, on the way to work this morning, God named my feeling. Things happen a lot of times, you, alone in your car. Clarity comes.

I felt useless.

Now for no other reason than to chronicle the way it all was so momentary, I record it here.

We’re close to broke. I’ve been asking for money like the boy crying wolf.

All the helpers and helping places are asking now.

I understand the conclusion drawn that we don’t really need it, it’s just time to ask.

I had a letter to write, the year-end appeal. I was circling round our homeless shelter, looking for angles to capture in a photo.

Our need is great. Our hopes are high.

An image that would convey:

We need you now.

I stopped in to the shelter, barged in, worried again over budget. I realized my tone was less than helpful.

I thought I bet she wished I hadn’t stopped in.

Her demeanor was slightly solemn, her posture different in a tired sort of surrender.

I listened. She was worried about someone she loves. I had no words. I felt compelled to hold her.

We hugged.

I returned to my desk to see a message left for me.

The Foundation funding representative calling, asked that I return the call.

I dialed the number then regretted not pulling out the application, anticipating clarity needed, budgetary explanation.

Instead, we’re fully funded, are you available for a pre-press conference?

My legs felt it first, the emotion and a sizzle-like current ran up and back down and I felt my eyes water, I felt the fullness.

The fullness of feeling useless, doing all I could with a less than favorable, feeling ignored return.

I called her, shared that the reviewers of the grant found her to be “phenomenal”.

She paused. I listened, her joy.

“Oh, I’m so full.”

And I added, it is not me alone.

Remembering the way the reviewers of the grant on our site visit were entranced by her sharing and her speaking from her heart about our work, I told her, it’s you, it’s us together that has made this program so strong.

Then I added. Well, I thank God for making me able to write about our work and for making you able to talk so beautifully and passionately about it.

I’m lying down this evening feeling significantly surprised by my usefulness.

If you’d like to know about my work, visit Mental Health America Aiken County.

If you’re compelled to do so, please donate.

We really do need you now.

Christmas, Still Seeking

Christmas, courage, Faith, grace, Peace, praise, Stillness, Uncategorized, wonder

May we never lose our wonder.

“And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭2:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

If you try, you can imagine yourself a wise man or perhaps, the wife of one of them or maybe a child, hearing the whispers of your mother, where has father gone…something about a miracle, a baby who would be a Savior?

They heard of a baby about to be born. A young man, a pregnant young woman traveling across the vast and empty country side.

No place to lie, no place to rest. They settled on a barn knowing they couldn’t go on for very much more.

I’m not much of a historian, the scene and situation not really relatable.

But the feeling of heaviness round the bottom of my belly and the pressure of being unable to go on, of my walk being a waddle and my fatigue being a sort of settled endurance, a requirement, go on.

Only getting through as long as I continued to go on.

I think of the wise men, intrigued in a way as a challenge, they learned to believe when logic made no difference at all.

The wise men who sought him, I kinda relate to their need to continue on.

Just now I read a little saying…

Wise men still seek him.

And I paused to think how true, how so very true like a familiar old song.

I added magnolia leaves to my tree, reminiscent of nature next to glory.

Glorious blue, natural coppers and twine. Reminds me of heaven meeting earth. Earth changed by its brilliance.

It is so.

Christmas, a time to think of a baby born to give us heaven and of our soiled souls, earthly tainted lives.

Yet, we seek Him.

We long for Him.

We glance towards the winter black sky dotted randomly bright white and maybe think of the traveling couple, the shepherds, the wise men.

We’re seeking.

We seek Him.

May we never ever lose the wonder of seeking, of seeking to know Him more.

The gloriously miraculous wonder of Jesus.

Providence

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I suppose I should surely call myself with confidence, a writer.

Just because of the way I love words, the way God made me to love words.

I wake up with new plans and consider a bullet list Thanksgiving blog.

This little garland left unhung and it was cute in Target, but I’m not sure if it was right for any place in my home. I’ll let it lay, it can go undone.

Again, I’m thinking of the list, the thankful today list. I could fill several pages and yet, not include it all.

Instead, I love the idea of three, so three it shall be.

Thank you, God, you are patient and unconditionally present and tolerant of me and you help others also to be.

Thank you for the way you got me here, to a place of morning sunshine landing on my succulents as I disciplined myself to know you more in the years before and how now, like today it’s an unexplainable joy, my morning space I rush towards in my morning return.

Thank you, God, for your word. When I said to myself I want to know more about providence, you sent me straight to Job, Job who cried out to the God who “molded me like clay” and found himself in a place I only know as well but on a much smaller scale, saying I trust you God, I do because you and only you know me so well.

Lists and exchanges of thanks should surely rule the day.

For me, I prayed I’d be an encourager that those around me would know my love, would surely see my love in a grander more consistent way, only possible if I lean into and stay leaning into You.

Happy Thanksgiving my readers who comment just when I need it, unbeknownst to you, perhaps.

That’s God who nudged you towards encouraging me.

That’s providence.

Thank you, God

“You gave me life and showed me kindness, and in your providence watched over my spirit.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭10:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Thank you for all you’ve brought me, brought me through to be used to honor you!

Your Glory Today

Angels, courage, Homeless, memoir, mercy, obedience, Prayer, Serving, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

All day long she sat alone.

Waiting for me to figure something out, fourth, fifth, maybe the sixth day the same.

Something or some things happened to change her, cause her to hear noises not there, to believe harm was always beating hard against her windows.

My friend asked yesterday why I thought God had given me this assignment. I don’t believe I answered.

I don’t know.

In the beginning, I thought God had sent my mama, this woman who calls me “lady” had a similar helpless tone.

Like my mama did when she was very sick and very sad. I thought maybe here’s your chance again, save this situation, make right the failure of the one before. She’s so difficult to deal with but she’s human. She’s a soul.

But, no, there’s some other reason, I believe, I don’t know.

She continues to come back, waiting every morning at our door.

Countless calls for collaboration, asking family to take her in, to others to put our heads together, just suggestions or ideas.

No solution so far.

Other than hotel rooms for a couple of nights to know she’s not outside, not curled up on someone’s porch, or walking in the night, just walking.

She told me people see her. She’s afraid she’ll be arrested. Some drivers slow down to speak, ask if she’s okay and others look away.

She’s a pleasant sight, really. I smile when I see her resolve, I find it meaningful that she wears her earrings.

I’ve yet to see her without her gold “hoops” in, complementing her high cheeks.

She’s a mystery, how her condition came to be, the way she served others before, the way she engaged in community.

Before she got so afraid.

Today, she told me I won’t see her, said she could handle herself today. We paid for her one night of sleep and I gave her cash for some minutes on her phone and bought her a double when she said she’d take a single, no fries, a baked potato instead.

She’d asked the lady checking her in for a safe room, the lady said they’re all safe here and asked her not to complain about the noises again.

I listened, piecing more of her mystery together.

I’ll call others today, I’m praying for a resolution or at least someone to pay for another night in the hotel.

I woke in my warm bed, the chill of the room against my face and I prayed “Thanks, God”.

I slept so very well.

I turned to kneel beside my bed.

Again, “Thanks, God.”

For assignments, for opportunities

For interruptions and issues like homelessness, like suicide, like budgets that never have enough to cover and ideas I can’t get back when I want to so I consider throwing in the towel.

You order my days.

You, God, not me.

Enlighten me, Lord.

Show me your glory. Cause me to stick with something as long as you find it necessary to bring you glory while being humbled by the assignment.

Help not to despise your assignments.

Help me to see you in them, just like the day so very long ago when I was chastised by a boy who happened to be my son. I questioned the validity of someone’s need, and the boy spoke up to say…

“What if he’s Jesus?”

“”With the merciful you show yourself merciful; with the blameless man you show yourself blameless; with the purified you deal purely, and with the crooked you make yourself seem tortuous. You save a humble people, but your eyes are on the haughty to bring them down. For you are my lamp, O Lord, and my God lightens my darkness.”

‭‭2 Samuel‬ ‭22:26-29‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Show me the way, Lord.

Show me the way.