On a cold morning I had decided I’d most likely stay home, I felt compelled otherwise. I had no creamer for my coffee, black coffee for me.
I woke with much need for more.
Understanding, confirmation.
Comfort.
I’d be the only one to go, others sleeping or with other plans.
I hurried, barely read or journaled and only skimmed the passage marked for the day, the one devotional with which my day begins.
Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? Matthew 6:25-27 ESV
Barely let it sink in as I hurried to make the early service, early on a January Sunday morning, cold and a little lonely.
My car pushed forward with resistance, warming too slowly going to church. I ask God to open my heart and mind and so I go, I go towards what I am certain must be meant for me to hear.
Otherwise, I would justifiably stay home, the week had been challenging, more obligations to come.
The neighborhood was sleeping, the ground silver colored and frosty, I continue and I notice.
Sparrows rising up, a fluttering upwards and I say to myself
“Look at all the little sparrows, must be 40 or more!”
Then decide for myself, I must surely be a writer because I’m quite certain not everyone notices the sparrows and fewer still would pause to think of them, to speak of them in such a way!
To write of the beauty of Jesus speaking, of his comparing us to birds and lilies and of the way he positioned them to meet me as I rushed my reading and moved intentionally to seeking.
To have my morning interrupted by sparrows, 40 Sparrows
Maybe more.
Worth so much.
So very much more.
Otherwise, he’d never made the morning and never orchestrated the intersection of the sparrows, the timing of us three to meet.
To remind me of the waste of my imagination on worry,
when imagination is created by God our father for so very much more.
Yesterday, I told someone something in a way that only slightly conveyed the real thing I tried to say.
I told her that I believed it is impossible to imagine what my life might be if I began to believe only in possibility.
We paused and our quiet faces wondered, how on earth do we do this, how do we not stray or get swayed by criticism, cynicism or just the crazy negative noise of our hectic days?
I looked into my precious cousin’s face and I answered that I’d walk with imaginary blinders on both sides of my face.
I’d need to stare intently at the tiniest of light, like the dot of a pin off in the distance, move forward with intention towards hope, off quite a ways.
Avoid the garish glare and naysay of others and other things on my way.
She listened and I gazed past her and through the little tables lining the restaurant. I looked out onto the busy bustling downtown lunchtime street. People passing by, others stopping to speak, I thought of me a year from today, will I be changed by possibility, a soft contrast of me today?
Would my face be lit by possibility, will I carry my hopes in a more confident frame?
Some things I think, must be pursued in a solitary way.
I told her I was certain my life would be different if I became unafraid of possibility and if I just continued towards the tiny light growing brighter as I near.
I would be different if I believed in possibility, if possibility was seen as an option for me.
I think we rarely really live this way.
Pursuing possibility in a peaceful way, a waiting way.
A know as I go quite certain with God kind of way to what God has to show me.
Possibly possibility.
“Faith shows the reality of what we hope for; it is the evidence of things we cannot see.”
Hebrews 11:1 NLT
Whether it be work or money or art or writing or relationships, I am saying to me:
Do nothing out of desperation.
We continued talking about our longing to be hopeful after life has given us so many reasons to be afraid, to be so silly and naive to think we should be hopeful only to have past experiences slap us back to reality as if to say, “Hope’s not for you, surely, you should’ve known.”
The plot can shift though, we decided, the story line is our story line and we can change the paragraphs and flow.
We can surprise ourselves, readers of our own books by creating a different ending, we can believe in the hopeful development of our life stories.
Believing can come natural, just as naturally as we regularly disbelieve.
If we don’t allow fear to destroy our stories.
How different I would be, we all would be, if we took leaps of faith, if we walked on whatever represents deep waters towards the light that is meant to illuminate our days.
To bring clarity to God’s ways.
God, help me to be an example of someone who has faith.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.”
Proverbs 3:5 ESV
Last night I told myself I needed to get with the times. I need to be aware of how they are truly changing.
I am now that person who is panicked over what the world will be for my children’s children.
I was not this way before.
My mindset was one of oh, it was bad a long time ago too, people have always been violent, issues have been challenging and intense. Children can adjust as long as they have the firm and loving foundation of family and God.
But, I got all worked up over something I saw on the internet about three year olds. Close to midnight and I’m wanting to research it more, prepare myself to protect my grandchild.
The thing is, influence is either worrisome or wonderful. It is unwaveringly committed and steadfast in whatever the influencer believes.
Children, I am certain, will be influenced by the ways of those closest to them and by those who make a commitment to stay close to God.
Last week in church the preacher asked “Who in your life most influenced your faith by their life?”
There are a few people for a few different reasons.
But, I cannot deny my grandma.
She was quiet and private with her Bible.
She was unwavering in her commitments and traditions for us.
She was industrious.
She was gracious.
My name is written in red in her Bible, all of the other names are there too.
A few weeks ago, my “Aunt Boo” reminded me of God’s control and of being sure He is working all for good in my waiting to know.
She reminded me of the refrigerator magnets at my grandma’s that were letters spelling out, “God is busy.”
God is busy. Doris Evelyn Peacock
I told the story to my daughter.
She smiled. She remembered and I promptly purchased a bag of plastic magnets because every single day I too need to remember.
He’s got the whole world in His hands.
God is busy making ways for us.
God is busy dispelling myths about Him, replacing them with reminders of truths about Jesus.
About His love.
God is for us, not against us and He is busy being sure we believe.
Linking up with others on the prompt of “influence” here.
“Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, for our vineyards are in blossom.”
The Song of Solomon 2:15 ESV
Cold in a way I had no idea, I removed the soft heavy blanket and because the birds had begun to sing, I turned and saw the sky behind me, bright with pink.
Longing to see more and to see with a more private view I ventured to the backyard.
Bare feet on crunchy frozen grass, my steps became a dance and rather than staring towards the sky I became captivated by the camellias.
Pink, I decide is the color of vibrance and optimism. Some petalled balls fallen from the branches and in varying stages of change, some clinging gloriously and a few yet to bloom.
I pray we don’t get the icy days we southerners disdain.
I pray the terminal frost that curtails the continued growth stays away.
Because, the camellias this winter have blossomed in grander and more undeniable ways.
Or is it my notice that has changed?
Has a sense of hopeful curiosity begun to enlighten my belief?
Changing doubtful speculation to committed curiosity over things that might finally be?
Things I believe are for me, abilities and opportunities designed by God.
I am beginning to trust it might be, that I will see.
Jesus has seen me and is pleased in my growing understanding of Him.
Mercy is becoming more than “Christiany” expression tacked on in hopes to gain acceptance.
Mercy, I am finally seeing.
Is for me.
Jesus, leaving Jericho heard the desperate cries of two blind men sitting on the side of the road.
Their sense of hearing compensated for their inability to see and so, they cried out loudly to Jesus asking for mercy. The crowds chastised them, these pitiful men positioned on their way.
How dare they ask to be seen, much less to be able to see?
Have you felt this way?
Felt that according to God and to others, you should stay in your place, why on earth would you believe there could be grander things to see?
The blind men must have been desperate, must have been shouting.
Jesus paused for them.
He asked them what it was they needed.
Jesus wanted to hear their deepest need.
“And stopping, Jesus called them and said, “What do you want me to do for you?” They said to him, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” And Jesus in pity touched their eyes, and immediately they recovered their sight and followed him.”
Matthew 20:32-34 ESV
Yesterday, I sat anchored by weighted rice bags on my abdomen and thighs, the sense of settled safety, I was seeking.
I joined in my friend’s “Midweek Mindfulness” and loosened up the places where my stress had made its abode.
Anchored and waiting, eyes closed in meditation, I struggled to be still, to stay composed.
Surely, this will soon be over, I don’t know how much longer I can hold this pose and I can’t think of a single additional thing to let go and I’ve prayed my prayers and I’ve focused my focus…
Then she begins to speak of curiosity and I naively conclude she’s done this solely for me.
It actually could be.
I listen and decide curiosity is a worthy mindset, not one curtailed by pessimism or conclusions to my stories, rather a careful and hopeful, continuous pursuit.
The blind men could have chosen what they’d always chosen, likely just being careful to stay out of the way
Instead they decided to be brave, to be curious about Jesus and to give new sights a try.
This morning beckoned me out onto the cold January ground and led me to see beauty, not only in the morning sun but in the blooms fallen and fading making way for new.
I get emotional over a couple of lines in a pretty song. The voice is captivating, tender and true.
She makes a quiet and sure proclamation over her soul and unknowingly, mine.
She sings, “the foxes in the vineyard will not steal my joy!”
It is a tender song, inspired by the verses from the Song of Solomon, a book that reads like poetry, sonnets and splendidly passionate love.
What are the “foxes” in your vineyard? What present or past or based on your own predictions is set on stealing the joy you’ve begun to get a tiny taste of?
Exchange the sly intentions of the evil one committed to keeping you back for the mercy of the merciful one who asks.
What do you want me to do for you? Jesus
Speak of your need despite others silencing your curiosity.
Believe mercy will always meet it, always meet you.
I wear a bracelet with a charm that encases a mustard seed in a little glass bubble.
A gift I purchased for me.
I need reminding. I need to continuously seek more understanding.
I need to allow my fingers to find and cling to it occasionally, my reminder of faith.
I’ve found a newness of a feeling.
It feels like a treasure, my new enthusiasm for understanding the kingdom of God here on earth and in heaven.
“The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure that a man discovered hidden in a field. In his excitement, he hid it again and sold everything he owned to get enough money to buy the field.”
Matthew 13:44 NLT
Understanding of God that both fulfills my deepest longings and increases with assurance what I believe.
I believe more than before that heaven is better than here. The great mystery of it all confounds me less and absolutely intrigues me more.
The disciples asked Jesus why he spoke in a way that included illustrations, parables?
Jesus told them it was important to him that they see.
Jesus feels the same about you and about me.
He’s intent on the increase of our understanding of him, of getting us as close to heavenly thinking as we can be.
If we only and simply even just a tiny bit in the beginning believe.
“Here is another illustration Jesus used: “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed planted in a field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but it becomes the largest of garden plants; it grows into a tree, and birds come and make nests in its branches.”
Matthew 13:31-32 NLT
And then we allow our beliefs to grow, we anticipate heaven while we walk more closely to God here on earth.
I’m getting better at believing, believing in what I can’t see and in the fruition of my journey and the flourishing of my faith and the gifts of God in me.
Getting better at trusting that with quiet fascination and intentional nourishment, I will see my faith and the works of my hands continue to grow.
He’s not finished with me yet. Brandon Heath
Linking up with others who are prompted by “better”
I almost interjected this possibility to one and then to another.
One distraught and rightly so, I listened and became exhausted over my lack of anything I may be able to do.
I sat and simply took it all in.
Her dismayed lack of peace.
Another so burdened by wrongs and unable to live without fear, so protective and unbelievably afraid yet so very ready for something to change.
Both unable to know what might change their directions, what might help them understand the unfairness of their fate.
I have no real answers other than the three words seemingly from nowhere that are clinging to me and I, clinging to them.
Continue and believe.
I’m prone to storing up my interactions, sort of disengaging emotionally as I am present in my professional role and yet, the stories linger and they don’t stay buried for long.
I believe that is God’s way, to not waste any exchange meant for me to grow, to continue on and give words to feeling, maybe help another to grow.
I wanted to tell the mother grieving and in dismay that I still believed God is faithful and that I believed she could have some peace. But, I didn’t. It wasn’t the right time or the place.
I wanted to tell the one homeless with her daughter, terrified of everything, that life can be simple, dependable, peaceful I believe.
But, I didn’t. It wasn’t yet time, it seemed best to wait until she begins on her own to see.
See, peace comes to us in different ways, in our own separate time and place.
Jesus was the object of speculation and of disbelief and disenchantment, much the same way was John the Baptist.
The disciples were learning as they followed while the onlookers and the intellects were set on deliberations of who they thought the Son of God should be. I guess much of who Jesus appeared to be was not their idea of a “prince” or one able to bring about peace.
Jesus essentially said and continues to say, just walk with me.
“Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you.
Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30 NLT
I imagine me alongside Jesus. We are going forward, we are making clear the path through muck and mud and I am smiling as I am looking straight.
I am content in the steadiness of Jesus’ steps.
So, I walk with Him.
He is doing the bulk of the work of getting us through the rough places, keeping me out of the ditches, breaking up the ground for the goodness and growth that will rise up behind us.
There was no hurriedness only a little curiosity over the day. The open day with possibilities until evening and then a time to be guests with friends.
Quietly, I lie waiting and watching and saw the little clementine colored circle peaking through the sheer in the open space of the blind.
Saturday is here and it has something to say. Says you’ve made it this far now let’s get going today; but, let’s keep the same pace.
The pace you gave a name to line up with your deciding to commit to being faithful.
Believe and continue, believe and continue.
Like the sunshine’s swaying smoothly shadows, it’s an easy feeling, like the Eagles old song it’s a “peaceful easy feeling”.
Believe and continue, no self-imposed pressure any longer, no succumbing to the doubt of others who may be intrigued by your continuing because all along they suspected you never would or could.
Believing God is with me, His Spirit, Jesus is for me, with me.
I am for Him.
It’s no longer about being worthy. It’s about continuing while believing.
It’s silently seeking and being met by something unexpectedly good.
The sunshine is splendid where I’m sitting, saying Come and see, come and see.
Eyes closed for a little longer and prayers added on, building one upon the other and then more and more that came to mind.
I open them at peace and find patterns now excitedly dancing on the blue places of the rug as if reverence has clearly met relief and together they have birthed belief.
“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.”
Matthew 7:7 ESV
Come and see what happens when you continue to believe…continue now with me.
I saw myself in the kitchen window, the grey of rain darkened and made the glass a mirror.
I laughed, ha! surprised by my reflection. My hair was flat against my forehead, unattractive, like cafeteria lady or a shower cap.
I didn’t expect it, I thought it was just a misting rain, the driveway puddles barely rippled by the sprinkle.
I took a chance and the weather changed.
I was oblivious to the shower and ran without stopping all the way up the hill.
Ran with just a slight nod to the concerned neighbor who paused and the one turning in and braking, unsure whether I might be relieved by their allowing me to jump in.
I never slowed my rhythmic steps.
My face straightforward with the rain.
“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”
Isaiah 40:31 ESV
No change in the depth of my breath, no adjustment of my pace or my mindset.
No thinking of not go on.
The rain showered cold against my face as I tucked my phone in a pocketless place, steady sound piping through thin cords swaying as I pushed on through.
In my ears, a chorus, “Break every chain, break every chain…
Break every chain.”
Sloshing through the puddled grass, I was back home, burst back in
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 