It occurred to me as I thought of today’s prompt, “trust”, that so many of the words we use may be less powerful, more pretty, even cliche.
Trust is a word I write every morning, some days God follows with a bold period and often underlined.
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.” Proverbs 3:5 KJV
Trust.
I start the day with this written commitment. Still, some days it’s nothing more than a pleasant hope, a halfhearted decision to remember God is my Father and I am His child.
I can trust Him.
Even if trusting humanly is a challenge for me, an established avoidance or cynical pattern.
I can decide to trust God.
Words like trust, faith, redemption, and salvation are powerful and unchanging words.
They are the fruit of our Creator’s character and intent for us.
They are God’s covenant.
“Promise”, another word we hold loosely when we consider it from human experience, is just as valuable, a weighty word.
Today, I will trust God. I will know and cherish words like trust, faith, mercy, grace, freedom, salvation, healing, and peace.
I’ll embrace these words tightly, held and certain like a child being cradled in the strong arms of a parent.
“I am carrying you.” God
He keeps His promises.
He gives joy, trust, patience.
We’re not able on our own to sustain these.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,” Galatians 5:22 KJV
But, as for me, it is good to be near God. Psalm 73:28
Morning Spot
Changing my morning spot with the season means I’m facing the morning sun. I’m not able to linger as long. I’m motivated to move forward, toward the new day, the give and take back cycle of surrendering its way to God’s control.
The longer I stay, the more unavoidable is the glare. My face looks towards my journal, the three words on focus.
Holiness
Health
Change
Waking today, to a one step forward and three back kinda feel.
So, I ask simply for more grace.
Look up again, the sunlight now dappled through the pines.
I pray.
Turn my face towards the sun, Lord. Empower me to let the shadows fade away. All knowing, Father, you are good and only do good. Settle my mind and heart on this truth.
“The day is yours, and yours also the night; you established the sun and moon.” Psalms 74:16 NIV
“Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he has redeemed from trouble” Psalm 107:2 ESV
Georgia
When this kitty cat came to me as a homeless sort, sleeping in a horse stall because she got separated from the litter and the mama, she hid under the house.
Imagine me lying on my belly in the overgrown elephant ear plants in the corner near the kitchen.
There was no coaxing her out. She came to me reluctantly the next morning.
Last week someone suggested I might not be the best kitten mother, maybe I don’t have the time or patience to tame her.
I considered it, that I’m not a real animal person, that she’d be better in another place.
But, I persisted.
I approached her with the understanding of her lack of trust, understanding she felt more safe all alone, she could only trust herself, she’d learned.
I had empathy with a tiny grey cat and changed one thing.
I became unselfish with my morning quiet. I made it her time first.
I allow her to find my lap. I don’t reach for the journal, the Bible, the pen or the stack of books.
I cup my warm coffee cup and I sit quietly. I think. I breathe.
I pray. We sit.
Early on, I considered the kitten sheltering under the house, hidden and afraid and I decided to see her perspective.
This new place, these new noisy people, this warmth inside, this back favorite room where the sun warms the blanket.
This woman, this man, these people plus a little toddler, a bit overwhelming.
The person who cautioned over the adjustment was also adamant not to allow my granddaughter near.
I wondered. I decided it will be okay. Because my grandchild understands the need for a gentle voice, a gentle hand.
She’s not bothered if kitty cat runs away, we’ll just try another time.
Gently.
Gently and with our persistence she sees we’re redeeming her uncertain beginning.
Same with us, the invitation to the Savior’s call, the gentle beckoning of us to come near, be safe.
“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.” 1 John 4:16 NIV
Be taken care of.
I pray you don’t resist the call to be rescued by the sacrifice provided by God, our Father
His Son, our teacher, our Savior.
“Come, ye sinners, poor and needy, Weak and wounded, sick and sore, Jesus ready stands to save you, Full of pity, love, and pow’r.
I will arise and go to Jesus; He will embrace me in His arms. In the arms of my dear Savior, Oh, there are ten thousand charms.” Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy J. Hart, 1759
Suppose I post this little graphic on social media today, maybe add one word “please” in front of “pray”.
There may be a flurry of questions, curiosity over what in the world is wrong with Lisa?! (now).
Or maybe others would think…
there she goes again, talking about things she should keep to herself.
Either could be the case.
But, it is encouragement.
Pray.
The tattered book I’m revisiting has no dates beside the entries of my thoughts. There’s a smiley face beside a verse, dog-eared corners from not sure when. There are prayers, quite personal on the pages.
Prayers that have been heard, met with either answer or with growth, changes in me and situations.
Peace in the form of acceptance.
My prayers were heard.
They will be today.
Whether they’re the confident gratitude that thanks God for knowing or
The bewildered surrender that finds me face down and allowing tears. No words, just flow.
Or simply, again.
Thank you for today. I woke up well.
Recently someone likened “thinking about it” to “praying about it”.
Said it’s the same, just semantics.
I can say with certainty it is not. We can not know everything and so our thoughts are incapable of changing our conditions.
I’ll be careful here. I’m not a theologian and I’ve begged God for things I’ve yet to see.
But, oh the things I have been shown. It astounds me all the times I’ve prayed and resisted the urge to take action.
God has sweetly surprised me.
A phone call longed for that pops up, a request for Jesus to put his healing hands on a family, a plea for knowing more clearly than ever His nearness and protection.
Three very recent answered prayers.
A pleading soul is the soul at peace, at peace with its position in this universe.
“I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me. He freed me from all my fears. Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces. In my desperation I prayed, and the Lord listened; he saved me from all my troubles. For the angel of the Lord is a guard; he surrounds and defends all who fear him.” Psalms 34:4-7 NLT
Lord, thank you for changing my understanding of prayer, of bringing me to here, a place to boldly say to others, “my encouragement to you is that you make prayer a priority.” Help me to help others see the powerfully available connection to you, the one who fully knows us.
Lord, keep teaching me to pray. In Jesus Name and because of your great mercy, I say
Tuesdays are early days, good if I wake on my own, no shrill of startling alarm.
I did today. Turned to my husband’s side to see the red lit time after waking with the words.
Pray about everything.
Two minutes shy of alarm, 4:58.
Pray about everything. Be still. Hope endures. Trust and wait. Pray and be patient.
A word comes to mind as I find verses to reference prayer.
Platitudes, do my notes to self, casual recommendations to others feel less like truth and more catchy phrase, a platitude?
Maybe.
“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.” Philippians 4:6 NLT
Patience is the word prompt today. Who of us is bold enough or certain enough to say,
“be patient”?
Be patient, this season of death, distress and division will be over soon.
Maybe we did last year this time, but now it feels/sounds like an empty platitude.
So, here’s an idea. Keep praying. Keep being patient.
Maybe it’s with your husband who says soon we’ll redo the bathroom. Maybe it’s with the person in the little old truck either worked all night or just in no hurry and you can’t safely pass.
Be patient.
Repotted your orchid and you see green on the branches after all this time? Be patient.
Patience is a practice. Prayer too.
Pray now, something tiny.
Wait.
Watch your patience grow
and change from a shallow teeny hope, even crazy thing to something better.
Evidence only you will feel and know.
Be patient. Be small. See your world this way and pray.
My gaze focused on the tall bare branched tree, old and ash colored amongst the others still holding green.
It reminded me of hope and holding on, of being planted in just the place that the morning sun illuminates it. We walked together in rain jackets, pockets crammed with acorns and fallen leaves, feet bare because of spontaneity.
The rain sounds led to a prayer stance she copied. I smiled.
Peace. Sweet peace.
On the way to church on Sunday, a memory came. No reason, not a song or a scene that stirred up the scary long ago vivid memory.
Of a time marked by alone in a sort of wilderness, marked by events that changed the imprint of my brain. Changed and erased my sense of safety on most days.
I’m afraid altered workings of my brain forever.
I wonder.
Today, that fear of forever seems accurate. Powerful nightmares for no apparent reason woke me at 6:00 and then finished their working as I drifted in and out of their fearful overtaking until 8:00.
I journaled them, looking for the seeds that started the nighttime stories, the coal that fueled the frightening furnace.
I made sense of it in a way and then asked God if nightmares would always be my battle, if I’d ever be able to be effortlessly hopeful and free.
Matthew and Mark recorded two versions of the boy brought to the disciples and Jesus by his desperate father. I imagine the father was wondering if his son would ever be well, if he’d be overtaken by muteness and seizures forever.
Jesus answers questions firmly and with a tone of importance and perhaps, impatience with them all.
He tells the disciples your faith must be increased and he tells the father you must rid yourself of unbelief.
“And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.” Matthew 17:20 KJV
“Jesus said to him, “What do you mean ‘if’? If you are able to believe, all things are possible to the believer.” Mark 9:23 TPT
Then he tells them, you must have faith and most of all your prayer must be a committed, confident and consistent kind of prayer.
“And when he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” And he said to them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” Mark 9:28-29 ESV
I gathered my journal and pens, other books and put them away for today. I sat with my coffee and my kitten.
Quietly, not at all condemning, the answer to whether my past trauma would always lead to debilitating nightmares and have power over me in my sleep came.
Yes, if you will hold fast to the faith seed I gave you, nurture it with prayer and commitment and allow the growth, you will be better, less held in the horror of past trauma.
I believe
If you will decide to believe. If you will have faith in your healing equal to the measure of me, your powerful Heavenly Father.
You will continue to be better.
The passage in Mark 9 has held my interest for a couple of months. I see the father, I see the disciples who’d just returned from the Mt. of Transfiguration with Jesus.
They’d been witness to God saying this is my Son.
“And a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice came out of the cloud, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” And suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone with them but Jesus only.” Mark 9:7-8 ESV
Still, their faith was small, Jesus told them as they asked why they weren’t able to heal the boy.
“He said to them, “Because of your little faith. For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:20 ESV
I find comfort in knowing belief wasn’t easy for them, having faith that made no sense must have also been a challenge.
I like the tone Jesus had with them…sort of you asked and I’m telling you. You need more faith, you need less unbelief, doubt and dread and more abandoned belief in me.
I sit now with the answer to the question I asked an hour ago, a note to God as a prayer.
Yes, you are well and you will be even more well as you ask for my help. Ask me to help your unbelief.
Is there something you’re sure you’ll never be fully free from? This side of heaven may always include our hardships, horrors and disabilities.
Ask God to bring you relief and to increase your faith, decrease your unbelief.
Perfection is not necessary in this pursuit. Recognition of its power and of your need are more important.
Turn your face towards heaven.
We were not made to carry burdens alone. Talk to God and a friend or counselor. Find someone who will believe alongside you.
“He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud and anointed my eyes and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ So I went and washed and received my sight.” John 9:11 ESV
Growing
Two passages have held my interest in August, my writing sparse because of a desperate longing to correctly understand one and to linger in the hope of the other. Plus, my brain’s been a bit fuzzy, like a dull swirling of what next.
Anyone else?
The passage about the man blind from childhood whose parents were interrogated by the Pharisees about the cause and the remedy has captivated me.
“His parents answered, “We know that this is our son and that he was born blind.” John 9:20 ESV
The other is the passage that contains the words to “carry your cross” used often in sermons or songs. It always intrigues me. More so now because I believe I’ve been believing it wrongly.
“And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” Matthew 10:38 ESV
Once I heard a woman sing a song she wrote about her cross. Her voice was strong as she began and then wilted in weepiness towards the end. The lyrics told of her personal battles, her depression. These burdens she told us she had decided were her’s to carry, they were “her cross”.
I caught myself now thinking, “albatross”.
Mercy
I remember how hopeless it left me, her disclosure, and how I pondered the weight I’d be expected to lay across one shoulder for the rest of my life.
I’d be bent permanently by the burden of my traumas.
If my past was my cross I’d be like the aged and decrepit beggar on a back street barely carrying on.
Oh.
The road I often travel passes by the County jail. Men and women are leaving to walk towards town with paperwork in hand or they’re sitting at the exit, heads bent towards their laps, hoping soon their ride will be there.
I pray.
“Change their life for better, God, today.”
Last week, a young man I guessed to be in his late twenties stood on the corner waiting. He was dressed in clothes that didn’t seem to match a night spent in jail. He stood and then paced and I watched in my rear view mirror until watching was no longer possible.
I noticed something different. I sensed his deep contemplation and so I opened my hand to heaven and prayed, “Lord, let today be his turnaround day. Be near him in a new way.”
When Jesus passed the man who’d been blind from birth, the disciples asked him, whose fault is this?
Is he blind as a punishment for his wrongs or is he blind and it’s his parents’ fault?
Jesus told them no, it is because God wants others to see the possibility of hope, of healing.
“Jesus answered, “Neither. It happened to him so that you could watch him experience God’s miracle.” John 9:3 TPT
And I See
Now I see.
“The healed man replied, “I have no idea what kind of man he is. All I know is that I was blind and now I can see for the first time in my life!” John 9:25 TPT
And now I see, the cross I carry is not the cross of my past wrongs or wrongs done towards me. My cross is not a burdensome visible and invisible reminder of what Jesus healed me of and from.
My cross is the very cross Jesus died on, the sacrifice of surrender to His Father’s plan, the hope of eternity for all of us who would say like the blind man.
It was “the man called Jesus”. (John 9:11)
Who said , I can’t comprehend it all, I just know what I experienced and I won’t debate with anyone on how or why or if.
I’ll carry on healed and I’ll carry the cross that made possible my healing, the good shepherd’s brutal cross.
I will follow.
“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” John 10:11 ESV
I most likely won’t know what happens in the lives of the prisoners who’ve been set free.
I know hope is possible.
Healing is a moment away for any and everyone. Jesus is still near and miracles are still the evidence and purpose of the cross, the cross waiting for us to carry in exchange for every weighty sin, shame or trauma.
“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Galatians 5:1 ESV
Barely had I written down the words, instructions to myself for today, when the sound of rain in subtle steady sheets caused me to rise.
I opened the door, left it open and watched the rain fall against the luminous backdrop of day.
The rose petals splattered softly like paint tossed towards a canvas.
Beauty.
I like rain in the morning.
Permission to be slow.
I made a list of “be’s” wondering if it’s just me that can’t get started, can’t accomplish in an orderly manner like before, can’t see things through because of changing direction halfway through or a focus blurred by one thing or another.
Anyone else?
I wondered.
Be still.
Be focused.
Be surrendered.
Be okay.
Be open.
With the last one came a visual. Me, in the car, me in my room, me in prayer, me in pause.
Walking and my hand opens to let God have a hope, a thought, a question.
With regularity, I open always my right hand and I give someone or some thing(s) to God.
Prayers that don’t just happen in church, happen any or everywhere.
“Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.” 1 Peter 5:7 NLT
Not until this morning did I think of the act of the surrender from my open hand, a stronger visual of letting it go, giving it to God over and over
Because I grab it again and I keep having to say sorry, I know it’s better with you.
Here you go, God. Please take this, help me to let you keep it this time.
Maybe I’ve turned a corner this morning, I’m thinking.
The “be open” added all of a sudden saying don’t close your fingers in a grip of what’s not yours to handle.
If you do this, how can I lay the very best things in the cup of your hand, the place I designed to gift you like a newborn in a cradle, new things, new joys, new chances,
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 