Yesterday, I paused at the end of the road, amazed at the sunset and the one first star. I snapped a photo (I thought) of it, but instead I captured the glory of life here against the heavenly sky.
All day long I’d been thinking of “your majesty fills the heavens” in between thinking of one sentence in Psalm 23…you lead me on paths of righteousness, for your name’s sake.
Often, a verse will captivate me all day. The truth of God placing me on a path that leads to righteousness and it being for the sake of sharing His goodness and name enlightened me in a new way.
Yesterday, I meditated on Romans 8:28, realizing again in the same way, God lays out our days and we often wonder why this interruption, why this lingering trouble, fear or frustration.
The house at the end of the road has a brilliant Christmas display. Santa Claus on one end and Reindeer the other. In the center in vivid gold glistening with white lights are two angels over a manger. In the middle of this impossible to ignore yard decor, is Jesus.
God with us, Immanuel. The Lord is near.
“Your righteousness, O God, reaches the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you?” Psalm 71:19 ESV
Flipping through the pages of this worn book, I’ve been anticipating today. Before it was December 24th, my thoughts have been on this one verse.
There was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7
There was no place for Jesus to be welcomed, no place that could have possibly made space for him, Mary and Joseph. So, they walked on until they found an obscure place that would be suitable. Although no one would take them in, Jesus was born and Mary sat and pondered the majesty of it all.
Nothing could stop God’s plan, no earthly inconvenience or obstacle.
I think of “no room in the inn” as a metaphor for the busyness of life, the inconvenience of accommodating Jesus. That may sound harsh, but I believe it can be true. As hard as we try, we fill our schedules and our spaces until we don’t have space for our Lord and Savior.
There was no room for them in the inn.
Yet, he came and he continues to come, born in us as we continue to believe into our being born again
Or maybe you decide to let him in brand new today. Ask for his nearness. Believe he is God’s son who died for you. Confess your sin, the truth that you’re not able on your own.
Let him in.
He giveth more grace, astounding unmerited favor.
On this Christmas Eve as day turns to dusk and then clear starry night, give God room. Let his peace live in you.
Merry Christmas all!
He giveth more grace. Grace to those who refused space to a young woman pregnant and weary, she and baby’s father.
Grace was given those thousands of years ago as Jesus came and they with all the others, the innkeepers, the shepherds, the scholars, the wives and children saw Him, Immanuel.
With them, with us.
Surely, many believed firsthand in this grace, this light of the world.
“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Philippians 4:7-8 ESV
Whatever you can depend upon, think of such things.
Last night, I realized I hadn’t shared “lovely” things in a while. I started posting pics with the simple words from Paul…whatever is lovely, think about such things, way back in 2019.
I get to watch the sun come up while the toddler is stirring. This morning, it made me want to add a phrase to Paul’s instruction…
Whatever you can depend upon
because I remembered my Father in heaven is as dependable as the sunrise and sunset He made.
The closer I get to Christmas, the more frantic I feel and I remind myself of the hope, the internal goal…peace, joy that is evident in me whatever room I enter. I’m a work in progress, I’m thinking it’s evident.
I recalled my life verse (Isaiah 30:15) early today. I jotted it down…paraphrasing. I’m best when I’m quietly confident, when my repentance leads to rest. I’m at my worst when I strike out on my own, either running from something or trying to rush something on my own.
But grace waits. Grace returns like the tangerine sunrise in the country.
I don’t know what has you fretting or forlorn. Others may think you should’ve long let it go or may consider it trivial. But, your secret concerns are yours as are mine and others’.
It is yours and it’s heavy, there’s no good in comparing our struggles.
As sure as the sun will rise, you are loved by a dependable God. Me too.
What we allow to be influenced by Jesus, by love, by vulnerable secret places exposed to light, lends itself to our stories being rewritten.
We begin to believe the vastness of God’s grace is for us, not just for others.
We loosen the bitter, cynical ropes that tether us to making sense of past wrongs and in a gradual epiphany type way, we see hope as more than a sweet little word.
We may wonder why it took so long and we may fear falling back into the questioning pattern tattooed on our soul by trauma.
We may wonder over this change causing glimpses of heaven.
Or we might decide to embrace it.
We may just move this Christmas season from believing and accepting Christ Jesus
To fully embracing Him.
We’ll be easy on our fragile human hearts when they try to grow stiff again.
We’ll pivot towards the soft light of love, we will reset our hearts on hope again.
We will say to ourselves, maybe on little post-its or with pen on our wrists.
“healed”
…by his wounds, I am healed.
We’ll continue seeing God. We’ll be amazed where He is.
“having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might” Ephesians 1:18-19 ESV
The psalmist, David, is speaking of himself when he speaks of glory. Our stories of overcoming are what contributes to our glory? I’m on day two of contemplating this.
Monday Morning
Last week I used Romans 8:28 as a password then quickly thought oh, you better not do that, you’ll invite trouble or sorrow to solidify the verse…all things work together for good for His glory.
This errant thinking is the thinking of one who sometimes forgets grace, healing, forgiveness and it is a ploy of the enemy of my soul.
I’m remembering now, a helpful self-thought.
Jesus would never talk to you this way, would never stir such fearful, worrisome, dreadful emotions. Be certain.
Twice in the past few days, my words have been few. I typed and deleted, moved pen from the paper, decided a little was enough.
A card with the words “Psalm 23” printed and underneath, “love, Lisa”.
I woke at 2:48 on Sunday night, the mystery of 3:00 a.m. again. My chest was heavy, but sorrowful, not startled.
There was no rapid beat, only a noticeable bearing down.
I was still as I acknowledged all the recent conversations that God was sifting in my sleep, helping me make sense and accept His peace.
I told a friend about a conversation with someone in fresh grief. They asked “How are they?”
I replied, “Well, when I left, I paused in my car, looked forward and saw that my face was lined black with mascara.”
Then I told them I don’t cry easily. This surprised my friends.
On Monday, I searched for a favorite Psalm, one I’d read aloud some years ago, tears not stopping the verses’ promised song, Psalm 30, a psalm of David.
Many are mourning. I’m only an observer touched by the sorrow of others.
I know the promise is true, the one that promises dancing from mourning.
I know it’s a long journey, one of patience with self because of our patient and loving God.
I know that healing comes. Quite often, I require a reminder.
Psalm 30 is that.
For me, maybe you.
“I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up and have not let my foes rejoice over me. O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me.
O Lord, you have brought up my soul from Sheol; you restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit. Sing praises to the Lord, O you his saints, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.
As for me, I said in my prosperity, “I shall never be moved.” By your favor, O Lord, you made my mountain stand strong; you hid your face; I was dismayed. To you, O Lord, I cry, and to the Lord I plead for mercy: “What profit is there in my death, if I go down to the pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness?
Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me! O Lord, be my helper!” You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!” Psalm 30:1-12 ESV
A second friend whose father was a friend and a father figure to me spoke of her grief in this season. I’m no expert on grief, I assure you.
But, she said what felt like truth and comfort and evidence of her patience with herself in her journey. I may not quote her exactly, just the gist of it.
Grief never goes away, our lives just become more full around its center.
I wonder if I’m more observant of the light because of darkness so early or if it’s a needy seeking of quietness with myself leading to peace with God.
I found a feather next to the pretty bottle we store our found feathers, my granddaughter’s sweet solution I adore.
Left for Finding Light of the World Known
“In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:4-5 NIV
And God said, “Let there be light.” and there was light. Genesis 1:3 ESV
Thinking of light and darkness like knowledge vs. mystery or questions vs. answers, certainty vs. doubt, I found John 1 and had a quiet little cry.
We don’t know it all, but we do know light, love and hope.
Light is trust.
“We are conformed to Him in proportion as our lives grow in quietness, His peace spreading within our souls.” T.T. Carter, Joy & Strength devotional
In quiet confidence is your strength. (Isaiah 30:15)
and the kitten climbed the skinny crepe myrtle higher,
leaves fell like feathers and I underlined, then reread.
“Doing those deeply unfashionable things…slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting…is a radical act now, but it is essential. This is a crossroads we all know, a moment when you need to shed a skin.
If you do, you’ll expose all these painful nerve endings and feel so raw that you’ll need to take care of yourself for a while.
If you don’t, then that skin will harden around you. It’s one of the most important choices you’ll ever make.”
“Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times” by Katherine May
“Follow on, and thou shalt never lose track of that light.” Edward B. Pusey, Joy and Strength
Art at Dusk
I sort of remember the first time I told myself that painting and writing are “my calling”. Several years later, I still question the label that leads to an assessment of whether my work represents such a strong word.
Once I called it my “treasure”, felt that was better. A “gift” may be even easier to accept as the description of what’s more than hobby but less than calling.
“Allow God to cultivate your calling.” Hosanna Wong
I heard these words while walking, having told myself to take a break from podcasts, that I once again had way too many voices in my ear telling me how to finally be at peace with me.
I am prone to quitting a whole thing rather than being patiently selective, giving up rather than testing the waters.
Not finishing things I begin for fear of failure.
The shape of a bird waits on a wood panel. Vibrant colors of green, azure, a little coral brushed boldly to complete the suggested work are only thoughts. Although I’ve painted these before, what if I can’t again?
What if I’ve forgotten how to paint and write?
black bird waiting
That would mean what you thought was your calling was wrong all along.
I consider the words of Hosanna Wong again this morning. Like a middle school diagram sentence, I broke apart the words.
Allow – give someone permission to do something Cultivate – to develop a quality or skill Calling – a strong urge towards a particular way of life
Allow God to cultivate your calling.
There is relief here, this freedom from effort, comparison, numbers of followers, readers, collectors and validators of my work…
Of whether it is or ever was “my calling”.
Because, I’m closer now to understanding
my calling is the calling of every single one of us, to let God lead, show us the way, place us in the places we are needed by others, not the esteemed places of what fulfills our needs
recognition, praise or even kind words.
The pressure is off.
I’ll adjust to this new understanding of calling. It may take some time. I may still fear rejection and thus, hesitate in offering my words and paintings.
Or I may settle in, paint and write because I love it and love the way God made me to love doing it.
Of the seven paintings inspired by Psalm 23, a Bible close by as I painted and breaks in between colors to comfort myself in reading, only one has sold.
Waiting and Trusting
A tiny one, “All I Need” will be shipped today.
I allowed my Bible to fall open in my lap just now. The margin sketch reminding of words from another day.
“Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.” Jeremiah 33:3 ESV
There’s so much I don’t know, don’t fully understand about God’s ways, His love for me, the places He has for me, my words and art to go.
I will follow. I will stay close beside Him. I will find my calling in the listening to His gentle, guiding voice.
I have everything I need.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Psalm 23:1 ESV
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Psalm 23:2-6 ESV
“So now wrap your heart tightly around the hope that lives within us, knowing that God always keeps his promises!” Hebrews 10:23 TPT
More than one person has agreed with me, “I’m putting up my Christmas tree early this year.”
Like the leaves changing and popping out brilliant colors, Winter comes and with it, Christmas.
With Christmas, hope.
Witt hope, peace on earth, in our homes.
Hope anyway and always.
Draws us nearer to Jesus in the quiet place of hoping for better, intentionally making the holidays more about God’s gift to us than whether we’ll have gifts for others.
So, maybe decorate early. Sit in the silent evening. Consider your tree as you remember the rugged cross.
“Draw me nearer, nearer blessed Lord, To the cross where Thou hast died; Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer blessed Lord, To Thy precious, bleeding side.” Fannie Crosby
Remember when you refused to say “diet”, instead lifestyle or good choices for my health? Maybe you’ve counted calories, drank smooshed up vegetables in a pretty glass, restricted cream and sugar in your coffee.
All in an effort to be well, to be satisfied with yourself, body and soul.
Yesterday, I gazed at the casserole dish of cheesy baked spaghetti my daughter made. I remembered the day I would’ve gone for thirds, if by myself eat the rest of it.
I let the memory help me, I let it fade into the shadows. I left it there.
I woke up early unnecessarily today. I prayed beside my bed that God would help me keep learning, keep listening, keep strengthening my spiritual health.
I see the word prompt for today is “taste”. Rather than think of passages like kind words being sweeter than honey or tasting and seeing that the goodness of the Lord is good.
I rested for a few minutes, soaking up a passage I never tire of,
The passage about the woman who’d been hemorrhaging for twelve years and had gone broke trying to get well, to find a solution to her blood saturated clothing.
The crowd was thick. She could get close to Jesus without being noticed. She did. She touched the hem of his robe and instantly everything changed. She got well.
Jesus knew it. Knew she was there. Knew she was desperate and called her out from her chosen obscurity, her hope to keep herself secret.
“When the woman realized she couldn’t hide any longer, she came and fell trembling at Jesus’ feet. Before the entire crowd she declared, “I was desperate to touch you, Jesus, for I knew if I could just touch even the fringe of your garment I would be healed.” Luke 8:47 TPT
All eyes and ears were on her then, Jesus didn’t just heal her, He gave her the voice to invite healing for others.
I haven’t thought of it this way until today.
Others see and hear us. See how we’ve changed and keep seeking to be healed.
On Sunday (isn’t Sunday always okay tomorrow I start the diet day?) I considered doing Whole30 again.
The diet that restricts certain foods as a way for you to learn what is specifically not good for you is work. It takes effort, makes you feel like a brave fighter or a competitive something or other.
But, there’s no cheese allowed, no cream in my coffee, no chocolate, no red wine, no bread, no sugar, no peanut butter (!!!). The “no” list is long.
Earlier this week, I embraced a friend in a funeral home. I didn’t expect to hear her words through tears. I just know they surprised me, sweetly and certainly she spoke.
“I’m gonna need you.” she said before I spoke a word. On the way to this visitation I almost decided against I decided I’d offer myself as a person to call.
I’d tell her “If you run out of friends to call or no one’s available, you can always call me.”
You see, we know each other but not dining together or visiting each other’s home sort of friends.
Her greeting me with “I’m gonna need you.” surprised me and then it didn’t.
This thing called blogging, posting what God tells me on Instagram, this sharing of sitting on the sofa sketches at night, this creative thing God so graciously made me to do.
It has an audience of listeners, seekers, “needers” like me.
It’s just me being vulnerably, being honestly me.
My “sermons to self” sometimes become hopeful words for others, I suppose.
I pray this anyway.
So, on this chilly quiet morning, I make myself breakfast. I don’t skip it thinking I’ll eat later. I am intentional with starting the day filled with possibilities and errands well.
I take the English muffin top and toss it. I like the bread, but I just choose the bottom. I add sharp cheddar to the egg white and turkey sausage and let the broiler make it bubbly. I add a dollop of cherry preserves to balance the savory. I place it on the pretty china.
I sit and enjoy it.
Like I told my friend who is grieving and I continue to tell others and myself,
“Take it easy on yourself.”
Offer as much mercy you’ve shown others to yourself.
Cease striving, seek wellness.
Be humble when convicted, but don’t punish yourself, don’t let bitter regret or self-hate simmer.
Continue and believe.
Believe you’re fearfully and wonderfully made and so fully known and loved.
Be well. It is well.
“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.” Psalm 139:14 ESV
Thank you for sustaining me Lord, for keeping me well, for reminding me of what harms and what helps me, what makes me a beautifuloffering, a vessel to pour out newlife, love and listening. Thank you for showing me gently what limits my abilities, takes me from your Spirit. I am listening. I am learning. Thank you. Because of your mercy, Amen
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 