Today I was simply amazed. I'm not quite sure why it surprises me every time, but it never fails to. Today He invited me to join Him. I accepted. The pleasure to serve was all mine and I hope it yielded pure pleasure for Him.

Today I was amazed at how He chooses to use me even when I don't give Him my best. Even when I whittle away precious time of preparation in worry and fret over the opinion of man. Even when I feel so inadequate and insecure, so unsure of this gift.

I was amazed that the Spirit responded to prayers that hardly seemed adequate and moved with all the power of a roaring ocean and all the gentleness of a quiet stream. He excessively exceeded all of my expectations. He always does.

Hearts were ready, softened and waiting for the blessings of surrender and again my heart looked on in amazement.

How precious were the glimpses of himself He so generously gave.

This pleasure of worship is ours for the taking every single day.

It is mine for the taking...a fresh gift laid on the table each morning with my name beautifully scripted on the tag.

Can I even fathom this foreshadowing of my eternity? Can I grasp that the most beautiful words and notes I cling to here on earth will pale in comparison to the offering that is to come?

I am simply amazed and humbly thankful. The kind of thankful that takes me to my knees, unworthy to even stand in His presence. Oh my precious Lord, the One who gives me this passion, who nurtures it and approves it, my heart loves...loves...loves to worship You. In worship I find myself. In worship I find You and I am simply amazed.

I will sing of the Lord's great love forever.... Psalm 89:1a

These words have been dancing around in my head today. They are dancing because I have finally decided to give them the space.

Generous, Abundant, More Than Enough.

Can you see them dancing now? Moving gracefully with each other. Floating through the space... encompassing it all with the majesty and glory of the One to whom they belong.

How precious is the space that is freed for the thoughts of My Lord. How much more precious are the thoughts themselves. His thoughts. The thoughts that lead me straight into His presence.

He is generous. He is abundant. He alone is

more than enough.

His Word is generous.

His love is abundant.

His provision is more than enough for me.

Can I even fathom the power in this? As my mind clears out the things of no value, I cling to these Truths as my anchor. Every feeling submits to these uncompromising Truths. Everything is checked against His unchanging nature. I will not soon forget who You are and what Your nature is.

You are generous. You are abundant. You are more than enough for me.

And therefore the Lord [earnestly] waits [expecting, looking, and longing] to be gracious to you; and therefore He lifts Himself up, that He may have mercy on you and show loving-kindness to you. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed (happy, fortunate, to be envied) are all those who [earnestly] wait for Him, who expect and look and long for Him [for His victory, His favor, His love, His peace, His joy, and His matchless, unbroken companionship]! Isaiah 30:18 (Amplified)

I am looking and I am longing.

How does it happen? Why are we so often caught off guard? Life breathes a deep, steady breath and I move with it. Days are filled with purpose, ease and joy. The simple things bring pleasure and I imagine this will never end.

Then it happens. Something in the air changes, something in me changes and life no longer breathes in the steady motion of comfort. It is triggered by any number of insignificant things. There is familiarity in this now unsettling rhythm coming forth from life. What starts small, eventually assumes it's consuming hold on me. Wishing I had somehow prepared more for this moment, I look up. I recognize where I am. I am standing in a sun scorched land. I recognize the weary state I am in and the endless, dry land surrounding me. Instinct triggers prayer. But I find myself asking all the wrong questions. Why? How did this happen? How will I ever get back? Days in this sun scorched place yield no answers and offer up abundant frustration.

Morning dawns and tears are flowing easily this day. Surely this will not be the day of relief. I am not strong enough today. Tears have already come. He decides that tears are what is needed. A broken, humble spirit is required. A mind that has no intentions of doing this in her own power. Yes, these things will be required. Strange how tears can quiet the heart long enough to hear the instructions....the encouragement. He tells me I am to simply ask for water. He says to me.."you are in a sun scorched land, but I will water you. I will pour out Myself and withhold nothing from you. Look, I am doing it even now." I recognize my fault. Too distracted determining the why of things to ask for the cure. I imagine His cool Living Water flowing over me and slowly I am soothed. Life's breath promises to return to it's steady, comforting pace and hope surrounds me.

I will not forget the scorched land. I will most likely return again. But by His grace I will ask for the water and by His promise He will provide.

The Lord will guide you always; He will satisfy your needs in a sun scorched land and will strengthen your frame.....

Isaiah 58:11

Rain

Rain has settled in today. Seems it would like to stay for a while. It's the kind of rain that just is. Nothing looming about it, no black in sight, just the soft, steady dropping beneath gray. It's the kind of rain that invites the mind to visit thoughts which have been tucked away for a while. Knowing the danger of going there alone, I ask Him to join me in the quiet moment.

In days past an air of staleness had silently floated in and was hovering. It revealed itself in the smallest of ways- unsatisfied, restless feelings, forced patience, compromises. Enough to feel the check, but not enough to bring me to my knees. So, it seems He has chosen rain and conversation to take me there today. There is something, He tells me. Something here that has no place. Something here that must be brought into the Light today.

A vision of a long hallway lined with doors on each side wanders into my mind. Each door beautiful and unique. As we open each one together, well ordered scenes are revealed. The mark of care and effort is woven into each. We stand in front of the last door. The name on the front reveals a source of unsettled emotion. The relationship between the stale air and the unsettled emotion is revealed. I am encouraged to open the door. The scene inside is full and disorderly. I am surprised at how much is there. So much unconfessed. So much waiting to be called by it's proper name- sin. Questions flood in. How could I have been so blind? Did I feel the checks and chose to ignore them? Pride stands up and takes credit and I must admit I have known all along. Comfort comes and glorious Light shines on it all and washes over the darkness of condemnation. I hear Him remind me of His presence. I hear Him invite me to confess it all now. I feel His peace rush over me and my spirit lifts. Unsettled emotion disperses and Trust settles into the empty space.

Rain nourishes thirsty creation and He does the same for me.

He washes away my filth.

He restores me.

He nourishes my tired and worn down spirit.

Praise rises from the deepest part of me and tears flow as steady as the rain.

O Lord, You have searched me and You know me. Psalm 139:1

The words hit hard that day, sinking deep into my heart where it was recognized as the conviction it was meant to be. From that moment on I committed to always be able to testify intimately to His work in me. I never wanted to be found again in the place where I had willingly given up the generous offer. I am always looking. Always searching for the lesson, for the Word that is spoken just for me. It is always there. Every time. Without fail. My reflection of Him is so often shabby and distorted, but Spirit reminds me that the work which will yield the most glorious results will be hard and messy. Would I be willing to submit myself to His masterful hand? Would I be willing to endure the shaping and molding that would come from this yielded spirit? The heart desire surfaces again gently reminding that I must be ready to give an account. And to give an account, work is necessary.

Too much time has been wasted bathing in the lukewarm water. Forgive me Father. What is this measure of patience He has with me to mercifully wait while I weigh options and tinker with Truth? With brazen confidence I allow myself room to consider His commands and desires for me. Cries for forgiveness find their way up from the inner most parts of my heart. The prayer of surrender is birthed and I give myself up to the refining. Shabby and distorted is the reflection seen in the mirror. Cleansed and usable is the reflection seen in His eyes.

Ask me and I will tell you -every time. I will tell you how His glory and grace wash over me every moment of every day. How he is sanding away the filth and shaping the seemingly unusable into purpose. How he takes human ears and tunes them to know His voice and his precious commands.

Ask me and I will tell you.

I will give the account. My heart will confirm and my mouth will testify.

Every moment of every day.

I am given over to the Hand of my Creator.

Father hold me here.

The Call

The call came late one night. It brought the kind of news that breaks hearts. Little one known to many would be fighting a long battle for his life. Cancer had made it's claim on his young body and immediately we begin to pray. The praying turns into scripture searching which again turns to praying and then again to the Word. An endless cycle of seeking our Healer. We take our place on the front lines. Relentless pleas burst from our being. Our own little ones struggle to understand this looming death, but accept their call to take it to the throne alongside us. 

Spirit works and moves in us - in me. Always guiding, always directing, always interceding. So why am I surprised when He chooses to divert my pleading words away from this little one to someone far sicker? This one had left her youth behind many years ago. We were born of the same blood. Carved from the same DNA. Created to share the bond of sisterhood, but separated by a divide so wide only He could build the bridge across. Only His power and her submission could soften her wandering, obstinate heart. 

Spirit confirms how good it is to pray for the little one who's physical body wastes away, but how much more necessary it is to petition for this lost sister-child. She spiritually wastes away. If little one succumbs to his dying body it will only release him into the arms of his Father. She has no such Hope. Why is it so easy to line up for the unexpected, seemingly unjust battles and so hard to stay steadfast in the lingering ones? Is spiritual sickness not vastly more devastating than any physical sickness? Why am I not relentless on her behalf, on the front lines every day, pleading for her life? Conviction weighs heavy and my heart begins to crumble under it. Tears of repentance wash over me. How do I begin? I confess I don't even know where to start. He reminds that Spirit is waiting to intercede with passion and direct alignment to Perfect Will. All moving to the same pulse with the same desires. Forgive me for failing to lay her at your feet every day. She is worth that. Blot out my pain and reshape my heart. Write her name on it with your Holy hand. Give me your passion for her, Your one lost sheep. You are out looking for her. She has strayed so far. Draw her to You. Help me have a relentless, passionate love for her.

Oh prodigal child....come home. 

We are waiting.

He is waiting.

A challenge and a choice lay before me today. A gift passed on from a servant-disciple who is always obedient to the call. Both the challenge and the choice are heavy with expectation and promise of unexpected blessings. Whispered prayers slip heaven-ward...Lord, help me make the right choice. 

We spend our whole lives avoiding death, fighting the natural process we are all destined to. At the same time we spend spiritual lifetimes avoiding the death of our flesh, taking equally particular care and caution to preserve it by way of complacency and fear. 

I am left to check myself. 

Death to what? Do I really need to ask... as if I don't know? This stilled mind can compile the list if given the charge. But will I? How much easier to choose life. To move forward with ease and accolades. "What could death bring me?" lingers in my mind. Emerging from the deep thought, I am faced with the amazing, unmeasurable reality of what death has already brought me. Why then would I hesitate to put to death this consuming self in order to gain it all? In death I would walk into Almighty arms that give purpose and promise to carry. That fill all the voids. That grace me with comfort and assurance. The choice seems simple and the challenge knocks. Will I? 

One path leads to glory that delights Self and the other leads to Glory that delights the One who IS pure Delight. 

Again I find myself giving up answers and again I choose yes. 

Who dares turn down the invitation that breathes life and purpose in order to feed a hungry lie?

 May Light consume all my dark places...