These words have found a home in my heart lately. Not penned by my hands, but confirmed in my spirit. 

God, You are my God. I will forever give You praise. Honor and celebrate Your name. God of the past, present and who is come. Oh, God you are my God. Donald Lawrence

What is it about the privilege which we are granted to call the Most Holy God, the Living God, the One True God, Jehovah, Almighty   - My God ?

This personal, intimate invitation that feels so exclusive. Why does it quicken my heart when I speak it? Why does a warmth rush through me? Tears well even as I write it. MY....truly? The God of the universe, mine as if there were no one else. How can it be that all my trust rests here? All purposefully abandoned to My God. Why does it take us so long in our faith journey to realize this gift? I am His, He is mine. The Cross which was done once for all had my name etched in the timbers. He lived and died so that I could feel the rush of warmth, the welling tears, the quickening in my heart when I intimately call Him- mine. How do so many of us get lost in the crowd, never noticing our name on the timbers? Having knowledge of Him, but never KNOWING  Him as mine?

Oh, My God. I will forever praise You. 

May every believer come to know Your presence which settles deep in our spirit and allows us to move in synch with you. This part in us that testifies to You. That cries out in praise. That lifts hands to You. That falls on bended knees before You. There are no words that properly capture it. They escape me. It is a soul cry that knows nothing other than pure adoration. 

You are My God and I will forever praise You. 

Keep me forever in awe of You.

Pancakes and Truth

The announcement was made. The cheers rang out. Tonight there would be pancakes for dinner. Little hands rushed in. Can I crack the eggs? Will you help me reach the whisk? Please, can I flip them? Smiles were wide and anticipation as thick as the very batter. The production is unexpectedly halted with one glance at the milk jug. Not nearly enough to fill the cup. We will just have to see. Oldest helper says, "look mom, maybe it will be like the oil in the jug that didn't run out." Mind wanders it's way back to a Sunday morning. And a smile of satisfaction spreads across my face. The lesson was learned. "Maybe God will provide enough milk for us, like he did for the widow and Elijah."

Maybe He will.  

That night the milk ran out before the cup was filled, but Living Truth overflowed. 

God alone is our Provider.

Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Deut 11:18-19

               ...and when you are making pancakes for dinner

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door I will come in and eat with him and he with me. Revelation 3:20

The knock came early in life. Thankful to hear it ...thankful for the invitation. A young heart knows the need, but hardly understands the Gift. The understanding begins to reveal itself on the journey. Realization that the sound of the knock occurs more than once comes much later in life. The invitation is revealed in greater depth each time. How many times have I missed it? Too busy to hear it, or just too busy to open it? Self wants to mourn the loss, but heart encourages. Listen now. 

There is always grace. Always another invitation.

He stands at the door and knocks. 

I open it and another layer of the Gift unfolds before me and again I am thankful. 

Door to Christ Church Cathedral 1030 AD Dublin, Ireland

The Key

No matter how hard we try, sometimes we awaken to find ourselves willing prisoners locked tight behind iron bars;

shackled hands, shackled minds. Freedom beckons from this unexpected bondage and the search for the key begins. Oh foolish one, looking high and low. Pleading, crying, giving false authority to the mind. If only he or she would DO this or that, would come unlock the door... the freedom we ache for in the pit of our being would surely be ours. The turmoil rages and an intertwining conversation between flesh- tainted mind and Creator mixes as unnaturally as oil and water. The noise is loud and deception fights relentlessly for the victory. The Spirit quietly urges - press on, wade through the dense filth. Weak and worn we wade, clinging to the Truth we know is present, even if it is buried beneath seemingly impenetrable rubble. All the while the prison door stands thick and heavy, but is not bound by lock and key. No, it is held closed only by its weight. It has been this way from the beginning. It sits waiting to be victoriously pushed open. I sit and wait too. My flesh-tainted mind that fights to be kept in perfect peace cautiously ponders...Are You sure? Sure that You hold the key? Sure that You alone provide the freedom? Doubt rolls in dressed in a cloudy fog and tries hard to do it's job. A Yes is confirmed in my spirit. And I no longer pose the question but am required to provide an answer. Will you trust? Will you accept? Will you open the door? The Spirit of God rushes warmly into my captured heart and whispers, 

  "I alone hold the key and the door has been opened for you." 

 

 And I give up my answers.

And they are all yes. 

 I will choose Your freedom. 

 Rest floods in after the storm and I am free.

A Tuesday Morning Prayer

Oh God, capture my thoughts today. Hold them safe against the enemy who so earnestly tries to steal them away. Grant me Godly wisdom, Your wisdom and knowledge. Reveal Your heart to me on this matter and give me confidence and assurance in Your revelation. What we all need most is to know You, the Life Giver, Life Breather, Creator, Sustainer and Lover of our needy souls. Love me as only You can, so that I may fall deeper in love with You than I ever thought possible. 

Oh God, capture my thoughts today and hold them safe....

Amen

The Beginning

It's been quite a while since the thoughts in my mind have been forced into quiet submission, boxed onto a page and released from what seems like endless space. I'm not quite sure what this will become. I was never quite sure. So for now, it's a simple practice of taming wild thoughts and ponderings into white on black. How does a thought earn the status of relevant? What does it take to make them important enough to release them to the scrutiny of others, so vulnerable and fresh? All questions not easily answered, but I suppose worth the risk for this unsure, insecure person who finds her only security in the One who's hand is great enough to stretch the heavens and small enough to rest on her shoulder. 

So He gives the mark of relevance and He births the revelations and here they find a home. 

         For it is in Him I live and move and have my being.