Quiet Thanks

Lying quiet on lavender dusted field.

The breath of clouds drift soft against sky blue.

Child laughter dances across the breeze.

Bare toes run on spring grass to deliver yellow lioned flowers.

Butterfly white skipping on wind's joy.


For this I am grateful. . .

the beauty of spring

the quietness of His presence

the unexpected refreshing

handfuls of dandelion love

laughter shared with women of faith

"Come here, I want to kiss you," from my little guy

chasing bubbles in the wind

new mercy

being close to Him

knowing Him more day by day

# 230-239

Satisfactory Apathy

The mail piles up on kitchen counter.  Sales papers, credit card offers, utility bills, and the starving cry for my attention.  I browse the sales, tear up the offers, file the bill to be paid, and pause.  This is my choice.  Here, delivered right to my mailbox is a way, a way I've been seeking to help the needy, serve the poor and homeless, sick and orphaned.  But how many times have I seen the bloated tummies. . . and thrown them in the trash.

Our nation oozes affluence.  Even in our humble home, living on a budget with five people who need to eat and a light bill that needs paying and clothes that need to be bought, we live in the top 20% of the wealthy of the world.  The other 80% of the world lives on less than $10 a day, and a majority of that group lives on less than $1 a day.

The saddest part of this story is that most people will read those statistics and think, "Wow, that's hard to believe," and promptly change the channel on the television and stuff another handful of potato chips in their mouths.  This seems harsh, but the reality is that most of us know there is desperate need in this world, but most of us do absolutely nothing about it.

Even now I can see the rolling eyes and groans of people who have become so apathetic you can see their hearts harden before your very eyes.  I am ashamed to say, that for awhile that was me.  The envelopes fill the mailbox, and if you give once they all come asking again and again, until it feels like all you give is going to pay for the postage of all this mail you receive.  But when it comes down to it, the question is, am I willing?

Am I willing to make the right choice.  To choose seven meals for the starving or one for my family to eat dinner out.  Am I willing to choose sacrifice over self?  Am I willing to love others more than I love stuff?  Am I willing. . .

This begs the question, what if I had been born in sub-Saharan Africa, what if my mother had just died of AIDS, what if there was nothing at all to eat. . . or drink. . . or wear?  What if all I knew was desperation and starvation and loneliness?  I would want someone to care.  I wouldn't want my picture thrown in the trash.  Choose today.  Boldly care, boldly give in faith, and there will be no regrets.




"It's very apparent that you are to love the Lord with all your heart and then you're to love your neighbor as yourself.  And myself doesn't want to be starving, and so I don't want other people in the world to be starving.  Jesus does not ask that we care for the less fortunate, He demands it."   -Katie Davis


www.samaritanspurse.org
www.compassion.com
www.WorldVision.org

To Love

He whispers love after only a month . . .
He says he already knows I'm the one.  Says it quiet, as if the secret slips out it might not come true.
He writes it in the Bible he gives me for Valentine's Day that first year.
He breathes it in the cold night air as he walks me to my dorm room to say good night.
He shows me with surprise flowers and chocolates left on my car window - joy discovery!

He never stops.

He is always there, pursuing, giving, loving. . .
Even when scared girl puts the wedding off a year.
Even when she seeks shelter under parents' wing.
Even when she hurts and cuts him deeper than she knows.
He is there.

Always steady.  Always strong.
Always ready to give.  Always ready to love.

The years crease lines beside our eyes, happy lines, marking the smiles of life's joy.
Through wedding bliss and babies born, through the building and rebuilding years of marriage walls.
This walk beside him has made me who I am.
I could not imagine life without his steadfast love.
I am grateful for never failing, always enduring, ever bearing and believing love.

The Least

He uses the small ones.  The ones who hide in the background.  The ones who are sweeping the floor and tending the sheep.  The young ones, the poor, the least.

That's how He called His chosen ones' first king.  From the smallest tribe, from the least family in the tribe.  How a lonely walk searching for lost donkeys can lead to prophet prayers.

And then the quiet shepherd boy, forgotten in the fields, youngest of 8 brothers, called in to receive the anointing oil of kingship.

And sweet Mary, poor girl from a small town, humble of heart, yet honored above all women to be the mother of the Messiah.

He uses the ones who least expect it.  The ones attending to their daily chores, completing their mundane tasks, faithfully working in small ways. . . faithfully serving.

After all, didn't He teach us this way.  This way of serving others, caring for forgotten flock, simply obeying parents, daily working.  This way of doing the jobs no one else cares to do. . . feeding the hungry, comforting the wounded, washing the feet.

Savior example shows love in the little, daily tasks of loving.  Washing dirty, chubby fingers of little ones, preparing meals, reading quiet, bending down to serve, to love.

 "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."                                            Galatians 6:9

Spirit Fire

       "Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven
         and filled the whole house . . . they saw what seemed to be tongues of
         fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were
         filled with the Holy Spirit."                      -Acts 2:3-4



He tells them just before He ascends the sky. . ."wait for the gift."  (Acts1:4 NIV)

"My Father has promised. . .in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit."

The gift.  The Promise.  The Spirit.

He filled the room with His mighty rush of wind.  As disciples gasp and breathe in the breath of God.  These fish followers made God followers hear the Spirit move around and through and within.  Then they see holy fire descend . . . upon them.

Tongues of fire!  Brilliant orange, yellow, white ever moving glow of fire.
The fire of God's presence coming down to rest on the believer.
The fire of His perfect purity. . . refining, surging, dwelling here and now.

"Our God is a consuming fire. . ."   Hebrews 12:29
Never contained, fear and awe provoking, yet choosing to be God with us, God in us.  The fire of His presence resting on the heart of man.  Holy made holdable.  But resting for a moment and only to be used to spread the Word.  To share the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  To tell the world what our God has done - He has come, He took on flesh, He lived and loved and taught and healed and died to reconcile sinners to Himself, He rose, He lives, and He wants all to know.


Flaming tongues tell the story. 

Muslim, Jew, Egyptian, Chinese, Arab ears hear and turn amazed.  Thousands listen to the fiery Peter.  The flaming message touches hearts and hundreds choose to follow.



So what happend along the years?  Have we forgotten the amazing power of God?  Do we not realize or believe that the Spirit of the living God can live inside of us?  Or have we become deadened by idolatry of self and culture to even feel His presence?

May the fire of His Spirit burn inside our hearts to tell the world His story . . . our salvation.

Spirit Wind

      "Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven
       and filled the whole house . . . they saw what seemed to be tongues of
       fire that separated and came to rest on each of them.  All of them were
       filled with the Holy Spirit."                                    -Acts 2:3-4


Wind. . .
Fire. . .
The filling. . .

Isn't it amazing how God reveals Himself to us. . . how He shows us His character and nature?
How indescribable the wind?  A torrent of the rushing breath of God. . .
Swirling, filling, stirring, touching. . .
Ever moving in itself and ever moving souls toward Him. . .
Reminiscent of Adam's first life breath, or the Red Sea water walls made only by the wind, or Elijah's mountaintop with God.

He was there - the Spirit - the Holy Spirit of God. . . from the beginning when "the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters."  (Gen. 1:2)

As flood waters fall back by a mighty wind, as the Spirit fills the hearts of kings, and words of prophets.  The Spirit has always been.  Watching, working, moving.

But now comes His time, His work, His mighty indwelling - Pentecost.

When God gives the ultimate gift, the gift of His very presence, God with us, not only in flesh. . . deeper. . . God with us in our very soul. 

Flesh touches, hugs, heals, hurts, and hangs on wooden cross.  Redemptive work.

Oh, but Spirit indwells. . . with power and peace, might and meekness, holiness and humility.  Sacred work.

God in us.

Christmas Love

I never knew the fullness life could have until I experienced the complete joy of having children. When your life is your own, before covenant love marriage, and before life bearing gifts, one is lost to the wonder of cultivating a family. My children have filled me with such laid bare love I never knew I could contain, and I still don't know how my heart holds the fullness. I have done things for my children, that I would do for no other (besides my Lord), and I would do anything for them, to see their happiness, to hear their delight, to feel their love, and know their joy.

This reflection of my Father's love for me, for all His children. Oh, how he longs to see our joy, our passion, our delight, our growth. But how much more His love for His own dear, beloved, only son. Forever one - Father, Son, Spirit - but one must be sent. Alone for a time. To save the lost, sinning, hurting children. How the sending must have hurt. How the watching and the knowing must have burned.

And now here we are at Christmas, hanging our colored festivity, dripping opulence on doors and banisters and souls in the name of celebration. But, for all who were truly there that first holy night knew the pain of Christ-coming. Joseph - road weary, anxiety laden for his pregnant bride, responsibility burdened to keep safe the Saving One. Shepherds - society scrap, poor, wandering, lonely care givers to foul smelling grazers. Mary, beautiful Mary - her pain one of the greatest, teenaged mother, honor scarred, travel sore, searing hot contractions, alone among the burden bearing beasts, giving all, giving life to her Life Giver. The Father - watching His ONLY Son born, into this sin loving, law forsaking world, but born to be the sacrifice for the hating, cursing, hurting ones, that He loves. Oh, the pain and the joy all wrapped in one swaddled baby.

Let us not forget the sacrifice of Christmas. In our remembrance, what will we sacrifice? What will be our Gift to the Giver? Helping the hurting, as He did; laying down our idols of selfishness, or pride, or culture love; or just adoring and worshiping this baby king made Messiah made Savior. Reflect on the pain as well as the love and know that our Father sees our pain and loves us unconditionally, for we are His children.