I thought that was its intent, especially the Book of Revelation. Can you relate?
Angry preachers and their warnings with the intention of frightening me towards God.
My twenties changed to avoidance altogether, no chance I’d dare to believe that punishment for my behaviors might be met with a full measure of mercy. Thirties brought hope, a timid hope that perhaps I could chance trusting, believing in a different way.
Here I am at sixty plus a year.
Going on a decade or so of steadiness in my seeking even if my walk isn’t always steady.
That’s the thing.
Unwaveringly and simply, I keep deciding moment by moment to believe God.
In my quiet and confident way.
In God who created me, saw me through choices and troubles that were not his intent for me.
Still, His intention is that I know now,
He never left me, never will.
Like the wings of angel draped around my shoulders, surrounding me in love.
I’ve been cared for. The foundation of my faith is His provision, protection, wisdom, mercy and grace.
When my days are complete. I want it to be said of me.
She kept believing in Jesus. She wasn’t afraid tolive according to His Word.
“I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” John 15:11 NIV
What did Jesus tell them, tells us through His recorded words?
Remain connected. Be a healthy and thriving branch of my goodness, mercy and love getting the nourishment to grow directly from me. (my paraphrase)
“…apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5 NIV
Love everyone. Endure. Be found faithful.
Be met by God on your last day on earth this way.
Leave stories of your faith for your children and grandchildren. Live this way, Lisa.
Even when others drift away, make allowances for sin and avoid hard conversations.
Abide in me, stay.
You don’t have be a fighter, just be you, a gentle and steady believer,
A victor of the faith.
“Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.” Revelation 2:10 ESV
Lord, thank you for the changes you’ve brought in me and keep bringing as I continue and believe.
What’s one question you have? An intrusion in your thoughts that refuses to go on its way?
How does God feel about questions?
Us knowing a little, but aching to know everything.
I wondered.
A little may be all you’re supposed to know and may just be enough.
This way of thinking came after praying. To put it into practice, I listed the things I do know. They outnumbered those I don’t.
My vision is blurry. My understanding is unfinished. My conclusions are often skewed. I’m patterned to protect myself, to anticipate bad news, to not be knocked down by surprise.
So, I like to know it all.
I’m changing though.
I know goodness and grace and that my prayers are heard.
I know enough.
Because, I’m not yet whole and well, I’m not God.
I can just know a little.
If I use what I see as the answer to a long coddled question, I’ll forever be longing for earthly evidence, confirmation and rest.
When I understand I’m only supposed to see just a glimpse, the glimpse meant for me, and I trust that God alone needs to comprehend the rest
I won’t need the whole picture.
“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12 ESV
I’ll just need my view.
The view often found at the foot of the cross, the floor beside my bed.
“To be with God, in whatever stage of being, under whatever conditions of existence, is to be in heaven.” Dora Greenwell, Joy and Strength Devotional
From the kitchen window view, I felt hopeful for Fall, considered leaving the back door open, optimistic that the breeze might join the morning sounds of peace.
Refreshing, it would be.
Not quite yet, but pretty was the thought, the heavens met my request and answered with the ushering in of new.
Hoping to catch a shot of a spider in its web, I found comfort in the powder blue sky fluffed with white.
Turned back for coffee and saw the rosebud ever persistent and perky.
Life continues.
God sweetly says so.
What if you decide the life you think you want is not the life your heart knows is for you?
What if the only voice you answer to is God and the Spirit of Him inside you?
What if contentment isn’t a fight to the finish, instead a quiet knowing you’re already farther than you thought you’d ever go?
What if you shift all your measuring tools from “I was” to “I am”
And gently, gently let yourself be you encountering the doors that open to who you are “becoming”.
All without outside interventions, offerings or comparison.
Even if according to others, becoming feels like unjustifiable, unfair or underserved waiting.
What if you realize you’ve really no idea what it is you’re waiting for?
“Believe…life will surprise you.” Brandon Heath
What if who you are is quiet and you’ve been way too noisy?
Even if you’re the only frustrated listener?
It’s loud, overbearing…the you that’s unsatisfied.
“But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.” Psalm 37:11 ESV
Continue and believe.
Decide to be close to God, unchanged. Look up, remember where you are when you’re with God.
Stay if you can. Return often and linger longer.
“For just one day of intimacy with you is like a thousand days of joy rolled into one! I’d rather stand at the threshold in front of the Gate Beautiful, ready to go in and worship my God, than to live my life without you in the most beautiful palace of the wicked.” Psalms 84:10 TPT
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.
Who can you think of past or present who is famous because of their peace, the most indescribably unknown person you know?
“These are treasures no bird of prey can see, no falcon’s eye observe.” Job 28:7 NLT
“Bethesda”
I spoke with an author of three books recently. I sensed the ache in his voice as he told me about his writing after I talked about mine, the children’s book inspired by Matthew 6:26. We agreed to sell a lot of books, you must be famous, have a website with a bookoo of followers and be good at talking about yourself.
Just the conversation between us about self/book promotion was hard.
Before sunrise today, I thought of just how contradictory that seems. I’ve read lots of Christian books, some sort of trendy and insubstantial and some very resonant and worth returning to.
I thought of how we, as far as I interpret the words of Jesus, are not supposed to want to be famous.
When we say
“Make Jesus famous, not me!”
We’re supposed to be able to mean it.
And yet, an agent won’t return an email and a query goes unread because you have less than 5000 Instagram followers.
A few weeks ago, I had a skip in my step, a sense of a really cool possible art opportunity.
Time passed and it faded to “oh,well…”
I’ll reference trauma once here and that’ll be it.
If your needs went unnoticed as a child or young adult and you get well enough to try expression of your needs and talents again and nothing happens…
You decide it’s better to be invisible again.
Because invisible is what you know.
But, now this self-awareness feels less achingly deficient and more like
a better fame.
A realization of what I decided was my “treasure” was not my treasure at all.
Years ago, when I began writing, my heart set on a memoir about the possibility of hope, I was starry-eyed and optimistic and I told myself don’t be a chatty little woman who writes about Jesus.
Be authentic. Be real. Be truthful but not so truthful you hinder another’s hope.
And I thought I’d write a book about it all.
Now, I realize I may not.
Because the truth, my truth I am learning to be okay with is,
I don’t think I want to be famous. I think I’d rather be quiet.
That admission may be the kiss of death to being a published author or it may be the breath of heavenly fresh air to a weary striving soul.
Because writing, painting, being a published author are not my treasures, my peace and my peaceful sharing of my healing are. They are the treasures I hold and occasionally share in hopes of stirring curiosity over the same treasure for others.
I won’t stop writing and I won’t stop painting, often with crayon.
I’m just certain being a person who can be found by name on Amazon as an author or who has art that can be searched for and purchased has given me a taste of fame.
But never has fame made me famous, instead only made me wanting more.
Thirsty for recognition, parched for praise and aching for a dollar sign saying success next to something I made.
Eight years blogging. I suppose it’s fitting to write honestly today.
That feels like a quiet celebration.
Keep writing. It’s good to continue quietly and to believe.
Because healing is not dependent on fame, only on believing, believing like the lame man on the banks of the Bethesda.
“When Jesus saw him lying there, he knew that the man had been crippled for a long time. Jesus said to him, “Do you truly long to be well?” The sick man answered, “Sir, there’s no way I can get healed, for I have no one to lower me into the water when the angel comes. As soon as I try to crawl to the edge of the pool, someone else jumps in ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up! Pick up your sleeping mat and you will walk!” Immediately he stood up—he was healed! So he rolled up his mat and walked again! Now Jesus worked this miracle on the Sabbath.” John 5:6-9 TPT
In the summer months, my husband questions my robe with pajamas.
I tell him I love it, I just like to wear it. I feel pulled together.
Before daylight, I’ve left home, left it hanging with soft pajamas on the hook.
Monday morning morning views are back. The sunrise to the right of me leads me on. I turn to see it developing, the new and glorious day.
The road towards small town has me meeting headlights and remembering a time the lights sparked caution.
Remembering today that’s better, the lights, the road, the earliness of day.
Everything an adjustment bringing acceptance.
This time last year I wrote a book I thought was for children.
It was God’s promise posed in a way of “maybe she’ll get it this way” kind of thing.
I matter to God.
You matter to God no matter what.
You’re seen, known and loved.
When I worked with women trying to decide whether to believe life was worth living and whether they could change life stealing patterns,
I’d say,
“Look in the mirror, look for more than a minute, you’ll be able to see how you’re doing.”
I’m not talking full length that helps you decide if you can walk on the beach without your shorts or whether the pants are too tight from behind, whether the dress fits good or is too matronly.
No, just the bathroom mirror.
Wash your face and gaze. Consider the condition of your soul through the look in your eyes.
You’ll see. You will know.
Look again, again and again.
Check yourself.
Are you wearing your righteousness? Are you dressed in the covenant of peace?
Your eyes will know and they will tell you so.
You’ll see restoration, you’ll be excited to keep seeing it.
Christ in you, the hope of glory.
Become friends with the morning mirror. Carry on. Remember how yesterday was different.
Your faith more certain, your chasing misplaced trust became an acceptance of it.
A robe embraced you, rested on your shoulders and covered your questions,
The robe of righteousness, the blanket of salvation.
Continue and believe.
Be faithful in your belief.
Faithfulness is God’s character and that same character is in you.
“He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” Psalm 23:3 ESV
“By trying to grab fulfillment everywhere, we find it nowhere.” Elisabeth Elliot
Morning Glories
I felt Fall wispy through the bordering trees on Monday morning.
August saying change is coming, change is coming, the kind that causes retrospect in the realization.
Small and sweet, the change.
God’s Hand The Strangest Bloom Early Color
The morning rain on Tuesday made the road a soft and sandy cushion under our feet.
We measured our bare feet and talked about the shape of them.
Walked towards the corner and remembered being brave and careful.
We stood still and saw the sunflower aurora against the blue sky border.
We climbed the little hill, twice the height of the two year old.
I’m thinking now of how careful she was, careful and brave.
I told her she was brave to climb the little hill to touch the flowers.
Told her I was brave too.
Later, I approached the room where I paint.
Brushes left soaking in murky water, a week’s worth of blue paint tinted water spilled as I chastised myself for being undisciplined, unsuccessful, “un” driven.
Cleaned up the mess and sat for a minute to add color to an acceptable but unfinished canvas.
Swirls, shapes, layers became a subtle oyster shell.
I left it, pleased in the satisfaction of enough.
A small thing.
Not a burden.
Rest for my soul.
Considered adding to the waiting in process angelic canvas.
Finish it. Share it, wait for the likes and notice.
No, not today.
Tonight, I chose small.
Gentle with myself.
Brave in small ways.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30 ESV
What are you carrying?
“Even angels must find their wings too heavy sometimes.” Helen Van Slyke
“Praise ‘n Worship” (prints available, comment to purchase)
I’ve missed the part about the shared yoke with Jesus being easy to carry, being light.
“In times like these you need a Savior In times like these you need an anchor Be very sure, be very sure…” In Times Like These
Saul was blind for three days after being confronted by Jesus over why he chose to be such a criminal, intent on being so vicious.
He was found and he saw life differently.
One lamb wanders away, the others stay in the pasture waiting as the shepherd, the master of their wellness and safety leaves them to find the wayward one. The parable is for us, the ones who were lost and still get lost sometimes.
We need our good shepherd. We’re prone to forget.
“Think of it this way: If a man owns a hundred sheep and one lamb wanders away and is lost, won’t he leave the ninety-nine grazing the hillside and thoroughly search for the one lost lamb? Now you should understand that it is never the desire of your heavenly Father that a single one of these little ones should be lost.” Matthew 18:12, 14 TPT
I saw a man walking on Wednesday.
His dark hair combed back from his face, his jaw clean shaven. The sun came up over his shoulder, I hoped it was the one I’d been praying for, the man I’d seen the days before.
This man curled up under the overpass, then later on my route, walking cloaked in black jacket and too big pants, bent down towards the sidewalk along the highway, once I saw him leave the Waffle House, I prayed he’d been well fed.
Seeing him early in the day made me hopeful. I prayed God had made for him a new path.
I’ve been sketching lots of practice sketches for a commission, a bird cradled in a hand was the request. Instead, I keep sketching hands cupping a bird in a nest.
Think of this.
We know God cares for us by looking at the birds as evidence of that love.
Look at the nest built by a mama bird and you’ll see it’s even more elaborate than we can fathom. A bird nest, intricately woven together, little stems and pieces of whatever that the bird creates using a sort of circle pattern as if the cupped hand of God is keeping it safe until it can fly on its own.
I’m humbled and awed by this.
If God, the maker of heaven and earth has equipped a bird to do this, how could I ever question His love and intentional preparing of me, to do things for those around me and for Him?
“Consider the birds—do you think they worry about their existence? They don’t plant or reap or store up food, yet your heavenly Father provides them each with food. Aren’t you much more valuable to your Father than they? So, which one of you by worrying could add anything to your life?” Matthew 6:26-27 TPT
Be very sure. He cares for you.
Like a mama bird with babies, like a kind and gentle shepherd who’d never abandon his lost lamb.
Like a Father who is wise, a friend who is kind. Like a stranger who stops what they’re doing to offer aid.
Be very sure, God cares for you and for lost, lonely or weary people you’ll never know.
“The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.” Psalm 16:6 ESV
I wonder if anyone on a summer morning would pause there as well. Or just me, my eye drawn to nature, the way an old bent root is exposed through what once was the ground, now eroding to give way for the road.
For our morning walking.
We noticed the pillowy green moss covering the border and we’d never not touch it, the invitation to see new life juxtaposed with trees barren because of age.
We stopped and cupped the evidence of life in the palm of our hands, caressed the smooth earthen wall.
It was a small thing, gloriously small.
Like clouds thickly shifting, my thoughts are of the majesty of God’s hands swooping down to stir them up.
I am convinced of this actually and often.
Majesty
I’m in a group of women called “The Alabaster Girls”.
I joined this group of others I don’t personally know because I wanted to be one, one with other women who would if given the chance, pour out all I’d been saving up in my own vessel or jar and in the face of resistance, express my relationship with Jesus.
“…what she has done will also be told in memory of her.” Matthew 26:13 ESV
Today, the leader suggested members of this group share our testimony. I paused like I’ve paused many times before.
My testimony of deciding to believe in Jesus is really small, sort of private, sort of “not sure it took” because my path forward has been imperfect.
So, I typed it in the comments and I saw my salvation in the truest way.
I thanked the group’s moderator for asking me to tell the story of my salvation, the one I sometimes felt was too small.
The story of my quiet day, quiet choice and quietly steady faith.
Jesus came to me gently and I welcomed Him in, in a quiet way.
I sat alone in my home, a single mother with two children. My Sunday morning thing became watching Charles Stanley, In Touch. I decided to believe what I still believe, Jesus died for me so that I could have life. It wasn’t a whole lot of fanfare and so, many times I’ve questioned the simplicity of it…now, I know that’s the greatest gift and truth, the decision to believe in Jesus can happen anywhere and I should never discount my testimony…deciding to follow Jesus, alone on a Sunday morning with a journal in my lap. God knew me even when I was so lonely and lost and He met me the most gentle way, knowing I was afraid of “being pushed around”. Wow. I’ve never actually written this out until today. God is using you, sweet Nan Trammell Jones.
The seed was planted way back then although not always meticulously tended or consistently fertilized by choices, prayer and worship.
Quietly, quietly and persistently I have grown and in my often “quiet about it” way, the way God made me, He is using my story.
Glorious Things
I am growing and others see Jesus in me in the very way God made me.
Quietly like the persistent beauty of green moss covering the ground, the evidence of goodness, of peace, of quiet confidence in God, the earth and all things knowing Him made more glorious.
Decide to accept Jesus. You will never regret what can never be taken away.
I read or heard the other day, a warning, don’t let your “quiet time” just be an empty habit or a trendy phrase. I thought about my mornings, my most treasured time of all, of waking up early just to be quiet and alone with God. I’m needy in that regard. I’m needy in a lot of ways.
I need this “need thee every hour” commitment.
I returned to one verse that feels like proof of God really knowing the me I am lately. The Passion translation of the Psalms is tender, brave and honest. I grab ahold of the words, hold them close.
“You keep every promise you’ve ever made to me! Since your love for me is constant and endless, I ask you, Lord, to finish every good thing that you’ve begun in me!” Psalms 138:8 TPT
I’ve long loved Psalm 139 and now I’m fixed on 138 too. Psalm 116 has a header “I’m saved.” I’ve been loving this too because most of all lately, I’m resting in the sweet reality of God’s love of me. Notice, I said “of” not for. God loves me, loves you.
“So now I live with the confidence that there is nothing in the universe with the power to separate us from God’s love. I’m convinced that his love will triumph over death, life’s troubles, fallen angels, or dark rulers in the heavens. There is nothing in our present or future circumstances that can weaken his love.” Romans 8:38 TPT
So, I’ll keep waking every morning God keeps me able. I’ll read. Not always everything and not always the same book or Bible. But, I’ll be quiet because I can’t make it on my own. I need to be reminded.
No one ever cared for me like Jesus. There’s no greater promise of unwavering love. To love others well, I need the reminder that I am loved. I need it every hour, every day,
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 