Peace

Misery and Motivation

Angels, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday, I read somewhere about the way Jesus cherished Peter, the disciple who denied Him.

I’m thinking this morning, of what motivates me to follow, to know each day invites my turning to God. Morning new mercies are motivation enough; still I let misery take over in regards to what I don’t see and well, I get better at recalling the mercy unending, better as I go.

It astounds me how Jesus knew it would be Peter to deny Him and how he knew and told Peter, “You will, and I’ll confirm my knowing of your choice not to stay loyal by the sound of a rooster, crowing two times to announce your denial.”

“And immediately the rooster crowed a second time. And Peter remembered how Jesus had said to him, “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭14:72‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It astounds me the way the disciples saw so much healing, so much mercy and kindness and were doubtful at times.

I’d love to have met some of the ones healed; the leper, Lazarus, the woman who could not stop bleeding and the man who thought he’d never see. I would treasure talking with Martha, the sister like me who couldn’t slow down long enough to believe; but, then did.

Signs and wonders, yet Thomas needed to see the open wound, needed to touched the body of Jesus, pierced in order to have us believe.

“So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side.

Do not disbelieve, but believe.”

‭‭John‬ ‭20:25-27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

How miserable he surely must have been in his disbelief, to say he would never believe! I wonder just how amazed he was, if his seeing and touching increased his believing or if he continued for all of his days praying for help in his miserable disbelief.

I believe he was motivated by his former misery.

I used to say all sorts of little “motivational mantras” to my children when they were athletes. I must have surely annoyed them to the point of nausea, that and the mandatory daily banana!

Thankfully, if there was eye-rolling, it was not in my presence.

Yes, I am fortunate, I know.

One of my bits of wisdom was:

You can be miserable or you can be motivated. Me

Every bit of wisdom I shared, I was saying so much more clearly back to myself.

It’s the same with my sharing here, on social media or in personal encounters. I’m encouraging, redirecting myself every step of the way, with every exchange.

I believe Peter was more motivated when Jesus invited him again to follow. I believe Thomas’ testimony more profound because Jesus granted him extra mercy to make up for his debilitating doubt.

Me too. I’m motivated by His unending and more than expected mercy.

Turn us to you, God. Show us a life other than miserable doubt and inconsistent faith.

Motivate us Lord, to recall that you are mindful of us and mostly that you’d never choose misery for us; we choose it for ourselves and it surely can be used for good, for motivation to follow, to believe.

I’m thankful for the FMF prompt of motivate. I’ve exceeded the 5 minutes allowed; but I’ll share knowing there’s also mercy in this group of followers who motivate me, one another!

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/04/fmf-link-up-motivate/amp/

Called “Precious”

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Y’all, I often minimize things or maybe it’s my pattern of not getting too excited about the way my life plays out. It’s not humility, the good kind of staying meek and quiet; it’s truly being joy-filled to the point of oh, my goodness can’t believe I’m seeing this stuff happening in my life.

It’s quiet confidence making itself embraceable, tangible.

And to think,  I’ve only just barely begun to surrender!

 

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“Do not fear, only believe.”  Jesus  

 

You might find it small. I consider it God showing me more clarity every day and that I am loved. Nan Jones found my blog through another blogger. She asked me to write. She first asked me about what is happening in my life now, what are my prayers, what is on my heart. I answered by telling of my prayers for my daughter’s healing and she asked me to write about it.

At first, it was all fluff then I decided to be truthful about fear and believing, the lessons I’ve been learning in my listening.

She’s sharing my words and my art here.  I am so very grateful for yet another person God in his infinite wisdom “enlarged my borders” with, people who I never knew might be my teachers, my guides, my spiritual pointers of the way to walk, to write, to be unafraid.

We’ve never met, yet she says she sees me as “precious” and all I can do is smile and cry just a little to know that I am called precious. Finding God in Quiet Confidence

 

Thank you, Nan! Thank you so!

Wording and Waiting

Angels, Art, Faith, Peace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I am strangely becoming more settled.

Countering where I have been with the counterintuitive tilt of my thinking.

I’m sure it’s such a joy to be met by words proclaiming revelation or breakthrough.

Words that invite, oh, let’s watch her now, let’s see if she means it this time.

Then realizing where this morning has me is contradictory in a gradually huge way.

Gradual, a word that feels like ease. Feels like the quiet me.

Accountability matters to women, I read. It’s why we don’t talk about diets, don’t announce our goals, hesitate to bring notice to our habits.

Last year, around this time I decided I’d have a “breakthrough” year. I did and I didn’t.

I didn’t write the manuscript. I did not finish and have barely begun.

I regretted, I panicked, I wanted to hide and I considered all of the let downs.

Myself and others.

I wrote more. Had a chapter published in a book, my name on Amazon. I painted so much more. I read, I noticed God and I was given opportunity. Given not chased after.

I considered new perspectives.

I forgave myself over time.

Asked a friend to hold me accountable, the book and all…all.

A few days ago, I read a verse that most of us know.

I read it differently because of that peace, that change in perspective.

“Be still, and know that I am God! ”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭46:10‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The weight of the words, more easy to know, the meaning slightly shifted either all of a sudden or have been all along.

The hashtag “breakthrough17” I boasted of this year enthused me early on and later led to hectic half-hearted writing and rushing.

Days were hectic, my writing a chore, a demand unmet and self-discipline became self-destruction.

I’ve been praying daily in December, equip me to write, help me to focus and give me words that heal not hinder, provide hope, not harm. Honest prayers.

The verse above I saw before of magnitude and strength, words that made sure I knew just how much God can do.

And I always focused on that and still do,

Still know that He is God.

But, as I sit this morning deciding to accept all I’ve not done thus far, I’m content in what has come already, what God has brought my way in ways of opportunities that have eased me forward.

Not pushed my way through…not at all breakthrough speed or fashion.

But, breaking through like the sunrise this morning, pink ribboned sky now fully shining and making shadows, warm and soft.

Yes, this is God’s way for me to see His plan, for others to see Him through me.

A dear, kind friend told me of visiting someone grieving this Christmas.

It wasn’t necessary or required he check in.

But, he did and she thanked him, adding she knew it wasn’t something he had to do.

His reply has changed my heart a little, has softened my striving, has granted me grace in all I’ve not done and had decided was failure.

“I didn’t stop by. ‘Someone Else stopped by through me.” J.

Oh, the humility of stepping aside while stepping towards what God designs.

His reply me that my work, my art, my words will fail me, will fail to come, will fail to find favor, if they are the measure of me.

Has reminded me to be still.

To be quiet.

To be confident in that quiet, that stillness.

He is God. Greater things are still to come.

Still, perhaps my word, “Still18”.

I Say I Believe

Advent, Angels, courage, Faith, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I just spoke with a precious soul who says she feels stuck. She says she can’t fathom how things might be because all she can think of is her guilt over what has not been yet.  All she can think of is this possibility that it might not turn out right again, that what she knows God wants her to believe might not be true.

She calls me her angel and I tell her  “Oh, I’m no angel.”

She said she read this morning about waiting and she felt the most real feeling that clear skies and days are coming soon. She said she felt God telling her that.

And so I told her, then hold on tight to that. Feel the feeling you have when you’re sure good is coming, when you believe what you’ve just said to me, silence the voices set up by your past that say nothing good is ever possible and all your dreams are empty promises.

That’s tough for one conditioned to expect hardship, tough for one accustomed to trauma and only beginning to climb the ladder of seeing more clearly what she might take the chance of believing.

She cried and she cried, streams of tears I thought I should lean towards her and catch in the palm of my hand.  Stop using “stuck” I told her, that’s not a word God would use to describe this time; God might use wait or trust or believe; but, I don’t believe he told you this morning you’re stuck.

She agreed and was better, only momentarily I know, still waiting to see if things will come true. We’ll talk again soon and I’ll remind her of taking steps and I’ll tell her not to be afraid, this time next year,  your life is going to be very different. Her eyes were brighter than before. She smiled, nodded. She knew.

I believe it.

The Book of Luke opens with the account of a righteous couple, Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. Both of them old and with no children.

Elizabeth was barren. Zechariah had no son to carry on his name.

He was a priest and a dutiful man. I would imagine had accepted their marriage would be childless and they were set in their ways.

The angel Gabriel appeared to Zechariah and told him, you’re going to be a father.  Elizabeth is going have a son. He should be named John and he has a purpose, God is giving you this son and this son, John will prepare the way for Jesus. His purpose will be to ready the way for the Lord.

Zechariah was afraid. He questioned the possibility of this outlandish announcement by an angel who appeared as he carried out his priestly chores.

And then he was silent.

Zechariah said to the angel, “How can I be sure this will happen? I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.”

Then the angel said, “I am Gabriel! I stand in the very presence of God. It was he who sent me to bring you this good news! But now, since you didn’t believe what I said, you will be silent and unable to speak until the child is born. For my words will certainly be fulfilled at the proper time.” Luke 1:18-20

This passage stirs my curiosity. Did Zechariah persist in his argument? Was he made mute because of his arguments and insisting impossibility?

Or was Zechariah silenced for fear that his questions might lessen the magnitude of the angel’s appearing, of God’s plans for the coming John, making the way for Jesus?

Zechariah could not speak until the baby was born, required to wait until what he doubted was fulfilled.

Was he simply not prepared to share a story of such magnitude?!

Everyone must have wondered. He exited the temple to a throng of confused faces, tried to express what had happened using his hands in motion and then went home to wait with Elizabeth, hidden for five months. Was she afraid of announcing her miracle, was she waiting to be sure she was far enough along to make known she was with child?

Was there evidence of what the angel said?

Did she wait for the feeling of tiny foot in her torso or the flutter stirring up next to her soul, that mother thing we call intuition?

After six months the angel appeared to Mary, told her about Elizabeth and told her she too would conceive a baby. Mary was afraid, how could it be possible? I am young. I am a virgin.  The angel told her of Elizabeth’s conception, told her “nothing will be impossible with God.’ Luke 1: 37

And Mary began to believe and hurried to visit Elizabeth to see.

She walked through the door and the baby inside the womb of Elizabeth sensed the spirit already in Mary and responded with joyous movement.

Sort of an affirmation, yes, it is true.

They decided themselves both blessed.

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice, she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” Luke 1: 41-45

Meanwhile, Zechariah remained mute.

I imagine he had things to say, just couldn’t figure out how or maybe a welcome relief to be unable to speak.

Nobody waiting to listen, oh, his words would surely need to be profound.

An excuse for being sure enough of his words, certain of his proclamation, excited over his announcement.

I met with a friend last week. Gave her the first chapter of a book idea and asked her if she found it too brave.

I’ve asked her to be my writing accountability partner.

Told her I’m stuck.

We talked of how I’m conflicted over some things, write brave and authentic truths or water down and make pretty at least for the few minutes someone reads it to feel they might make it through.

I expected her to say don’t unearth everything.  Don’t be too hard, don’t cause others to worry or to feel uneasy. She said let God bring you the things needed to remember, don’t fret over what you can’t. Time has passed. Good will come from recollection you’re supposed to tell.

We talked about one memory and I shared with her what a revelation it was to hear a long ago memory of me, not at all pleasant; but true.

It was strangely affirming.

We both smiled and she said “How many women have felt the same way, regretted the same behavior and yet, long for someone else to say “me too?”

I’m more silent now and okay with it really.

I’m not unable to write, just waiting to be sure that the words I write will be the ones that God wants others to hear.

Like Zechariah, when questioned, why are you not naming your baby after yourself, to carry on the name, this is what’s expected and you finally got your chance?

Not just doing what’s expected.

“No.”, Elizabeth said and he agreed, we will do as God has planned. His name will be John and when asked to record the name in writing, the name Gabriel, the angel had advised them of, Zechariah’s voice returned, he could speak of his son.

He waited and in time, found his voice still there.

I will not give up on the story, the one I call “The Colors of My Bible”. I’ll just not rush it, conflicted over how it will be welcomed or whether others will approve sufficiently. I’ll wait until the words come back, until the time God knows I truly believe in His design, not mine.

Because, I’ve not been visited by an angel; but, I refuse to believe this idea just came from nowhere, the telling of my colorful redemption story and the women who gave me hope.

I may just write about the dogs for a bit, paint some angels, jot down my prayer list, being sure to include “walk closely with Jesus”, a new daily one.

I may simply write about geese that fly over or the funny way it sounds to tell of “my embroidery” hobby.  I may slip in some stories about my family. I’ll continue to write about hope and heaven.

I’ll write about noticing God still.

Until I’m able to write the words so clearly, so truly, so hope-filled that I will be able to say Yes, this is my treasure, thank you for this treasure I thought impossible.

I’ve just written over 1400 words here and I’m betting someone’s gonna say, “Man, she’s all over the place!”

But, it’s good, good for me to write. Good will get better, better will get right.

For now, I’ll hold onto that feeling, the feeling that good is coming.

Not stuck, but waiting.

The truth I say I believe and told another the same.

Good things are just around the bend.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story.

Peace – Conscious of Christmas

Advent, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Is it harder now to find places to sense peace, to be conscious of Christmas?

Most things we do feel like a production, a scurrying, a hurried and hectic undertaking.

I spoke a little too sternly yesterday about all the noise driving me crazy. Another person said they were getting “addled” and I was thrilled to know someone was likeminded.

She quickly told me though, not nearly so much as you.

Yes, I know.

I knew.

Others just waited for the noise to settle down as if they all were resting in a bubble of peace, a comfortable and softly draped wrap of serene.

This week of Advent, the preparation for the birth of Jesus, asks me to consider peace.

On Saturday morning, I stood close to the edge of wooden dock on a misty cold marsh. Large oaks all around and their branches fat from age and layered with growth of bright green fern.

I considered and am still, could this be my church? Is this place and sometimes others I find, the place I am made to worship God?

I assure you it feels quite so.

Free of busy and business, just me and sometimes one or two others approaching whole body and soul a place we are called to by our longings?

A congregation consisting of white birds trying to avoid our cameras and a wide, wide sky?

I’m sure that’s not God’s desire, a solitary island dweller, he didn’t design me to be.

But, oh how at peace I am in the places I get alone with quiet and Him.

To notice God.

I’m different, I suppose, craving quiet and being made anxious by disorder.

He is my peace.

Not my surroundings nor those in my midst.

He himself is my peace.

I’m reminded in the quiet.

Peace that can’t be manufactured, demanded or insisted upon; but, that emanates from within me keeping me calm when all around is so very uncalm.

That’s the call to Christmas, the call to seek peace, surround ourselves in it and get immersed again in the story of the starry night, the Holy Night when peace was born.

“Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth”

The weary me, the weary world rejoices.

Night, divine. A night divine.

The night, the day, the moment divine when peace came near, made itself clearly known.

Still does, I call it ” noticing God”.

“In sin and error pining, until He appeared

and the soul felt its worth.”

O’ Holy Night.

Oh, to be seen as one with worth because of the Holy night, the Holy one, not at all because of what I do or anything I’ve done.

It’s been a tough couple of days with shifts and situations gone awry.

Not sure why things happen, wonder what might could have made it different.

Things that made, make no sense.

I bolted from church last night, it had become too noisy, too busy, too much a feeling like a clamoring for what might make one feel worthy.

I drove under the starry sky back home like escaping.

And I rested once home and woke this morning to read about peace, this week’s Advent focus.

Found myself peaceful, again. It was a welcome, I assure you, to come back to a place of peace.

A friend heard I’d never read a special book at Christmas and so she gifted me last week.

I’m grateful for her deciding to send it my way, gifting me in an intentional way.

I love her for it.

I broke my rule this morning about pencil marks on pages and I underlined and circled the words that spoke peace to me, made me more conscious of Christmas.

More understanding of peace

More conscious of Christmas.

And peace because of Christ.

So, if you’re alive today, sing redemption’s song.

Louie Giglio

Sing your song.

Do your dance, your quiet sway of peace.

I know I’ll do mine.