Monday, June 15, 2015


It's been four months.  Easily.

There's a corner we often pass on which a large gas station is to be built.  They demolished the one that used to be there, and have been preparing the land for building ever since. 

And preparing the land.

Aaaand preparing that land some more. 

We know they're out there doing something.  We see the large machines working the land nearly every day.

But that thing already.

Start doing something our eyes can see.  When we drive by, all we see is a plot of what we are sure is really, really, really ready land with nothing on it.  We're itching for them to pour the foundation, start on the framework.  Built that thing.

And yet they keep readying the land.

Maybe there's something to that.  Maybe it's kind of an important part of the process.

This is so where I am living these days--crying out for God to build in me something I can see.  And yet He seems pretty focused on this first-things-first, don't-cut-corners process of readying my heart...a process with which I get antsy.  To say I'm prone to impatience is an understatement.

Build something I can see, LORD. 

When God called David to royal position, David was still just a shepherd in a field.  A sheep-tender being readied. When He foreknew Joseph as the keeper of the grain, Joseph was marking the years off in pits and prisons. And yet His heart was being readied. 

I'm weary of the readying, God.  Please build something I can see.

Maybe you're there with me.  You feel a calling, a quickening of your heart to something.  But you're in the readying season.  And the readying season involves a whole lot of unspectacular, if you know what I mean.  You look around and don't see evidence of anything being BUILT.  You're just being prepared. 

And yet while it's a tough season, it is nothing short of a critical step in the process for anything that will last.  Shortcuts don't lead to sure things.  Fully prepared and level ground is the only place where a building can truly stand. 

Father, I know that the readying isn't for nothing.  It precedes building.  It comes before the "Ooh, look at that" season.  It just feels like you've been preparing my heart for years, and I'm eager for evidence of building. 

Yet not as we will, but as You will. 

Strengthen our hearts to say, "Take every single moment that You, in Your sovereignty, know needs to be taken to fully prepare my heart for whatever You, in Your sovereignty, see fit to build there." 

Monday, June 8, 2015


"Mama, my soup is too hot to eat," she announced with furrowed brow.

"Here's a little trick to help it cool down more quickly," I replied with a smile.  I picked up a spoon and began to stir the soup.

Immediately, steam began to rise from the bowl.

"You're making it worse!" she blurted.  Look at all that steam.  Stirring it is making it hotter!"

I tried to explain that what she was seeing was simply the trapped heat escaping, but the swirls of steam had her convinced that I was somehow heating her soup more.

That I was actually making it worse.

Moses thought his Father in Heaven was making things worse, too.  And, to be fair, it kind of looked like that was actually the case.  The Israelites were trapped.  Subject to cruel leaders.  Slaves forced to labor and toil under a ruthless regime.  And just when it seemed things couldn't get any worse, the LORD God instructed Moses to go to this cold-hearted Pharaoh and demand the release of the children of Israel. 

Moses' request was, of course, met with obstinate fury.  Not only did Pharaoh refuse to let God's people go, but he decided to turn up the heat on the Israelites.  And at Pharaoh's command, his leaders let the Israelites know how it was all going to go down:

"You know all those bricks you've been making with the straw we have provided?  Well, you're still going to make all those bricks, but now you are going to go gather your own straw with which to make those bricks!" 

The work got harder.  The slave drivers, more callous.  The tasks, more demanding.  Had God's assignment of Moses stirred the pot?  Did He make it worse?

"O LORD, why have you brought trouble upon Your people?" cried Moses.  "Is this why you sent me? Ever since I went to Pharaoh to speak in Your name, he has brought trouble upon this people, and You have not rescued Your people at all." 

I can't say I don't understand Moses' cries.  I've been on his side of things.  I've been misled by what my eyes have seen, wondering if my Heavenly Father is somehow "making it worse."  And yet God wasn't merely interested in lightening the load of His children. 

His eyes were on their complete and total deliverance.

"Now you will see what I will do to Pharaoh," promised the LORD.  "Because of My mighty hand, he WILL let them go; because of My mighty hand he will drive them out of his country.  I have heard the groaning of My people, and I have remembered My covenant with them.  I am the LORD, and will bring you out from under the yoke of the Egyptians.  I will free you from being slaves to them, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and mighty acts.  I am the LORD."

And He did.

Our God isn't making it worse.

He is making a way. 

I don't know what other word could suffice. 
When our eyes tell us one thing,
give us strength to trust Your ways,
to remember Your heart for Your people. 
* Scripture: Exodus 5 and 6

Thursday, June 4, 2015


If you were watching a husband and wife endure multiple unsuccessful attempts to start a family, could you do so with a smile on your face? 

The other day my daughter and I were watching an old episode of "The Little Couple" from before they became parents.  In the episode, they were in the middle of their second attempt to transfer their embryos to their surrogate, not long after their first attempt had resulted in a miscarriage. 

I watched with mixed emotions as Jen and Bill hoped and desperately prayed that this second transfer would result in the start of their family. 

The thing is, I already knew it wasn't going to go that way.  That's the benefit of watching a 2011 episode in 2015. 

And so my heart was partially heavy for them, knowing that their fervent hopes for this procedure to be successful would soon be dashed.

But I also knew that this devastating disappointment would be the very thing that would point them down the path on which they would eventually adopt their two beautiful children.  And so even though I was watching this sweet couple face the heart-wrenching outcome of their efforts to start a family, I had this grin on my face thinking of the redemption that I knew awaited them:  A son, Will, whose story would begin in China, and their daughter Zoey, born in India.  As dark and disappointing as that season of loss was for Bill and Jen, their joy is great in this one. 

When we are in the hardest of days, the longest of seasons, the times that tear at our soul, we don't have the luxury of the big picture.  It's hidden from our eyes.  All we can see is that things are as we never would have chosen them to be. 

But we dwell in the safe hands of the One with the benefit of the big picture.  While we writhe in pain, He perceives the beauty that awaits. 

And so in the thick of it all, remember that Jesus wept over Lazarus' death, even though He knew full well that He would soon raise his friend.  He isn't unmoved by our suffering even when He knows the goodness and redemption that await us.  That is a kind of hope that is truly unmatched by anything else we can find in this world.

Thank You, Jesus.  For working all things together--even the things we would never voluntarily have chosen on the front end.  Thank You for exchanging beauty for our ashes.  You are El Roi, the God who sees.  Give us strength to cling to You.   


Tuesday, June 2, 2015


My Christmas present from my husband this year was a new floor.*
*A much-needed new floor.  The years had not been kind to the carpet that used to be there. 

We had left home a month prior with a dingy, threadbare carpet that was literally coming apart at the seams, and returned to something that shines like the top of the Chrysler building.  Cue the Hallelujah Chorus, y'all.  It really is fabulous.

One thing I've noticed, though, is that if there is even the tiniest speck of dirt on this gleaming, glorious floor, I can see it.  You can see it.  Your half-blind Great Aunt Edna can see it.  The floor shows everything.

Was there less dirt when we had a carpet?  Or was it just that we couldn't as easily see it?  How much was there that we didn't even know to try and remove?

Was it better when I couldn't see every blade of grass that hitchhiked in on someone's shoe, every stray crumb or dust bunny?  Was it better when I didn't know better?

No.  Because when it's visible to me, I can do something about getting rid of it.  And then it's clean.  Like, actually, really clean. 

Scripture is like that.  Yes, it guides and gives strength.  But it also shines a big ol' light on what needs our attention.

So it is better when we don't know better?  Is it somehow preferable to remain in that place where I'm unaware of my prideful ways and words?  Is it better if I'm not mindful of my worry, my laziness, or the prone-to-wander state of my soul?

The Word of God gets up in my business.  While Jesus knows all along what's in my heart, it becomes clearly visible to me when I allow Scripture to lay bare all that is truly going on within me. 

I want Matthew 8 and 14 to expose the "You of little faith" parts of my soul, reveal my needless worry, and remind me of my ever-so-worthy-of-my-trust Savior.

I need Proverbs 10 and 12 and 15 and 16 (okay, like all of Proverbs) to expose the weight of my words.  And if there are words that shouldn't be there, I want them flushed out from within and replaced with words flowing from a right heart.

I want 1 Kings 18 to prick my heart about ways in which I am trusting something else--anything else--for my help and salvation.  If anything but Jesus is on the throne for me, I want to know, so it can go. 

I truly want truth to transform me, and expose anything at all that requires my response.   

No, it wasn't better when I didn't know better.     

I want the floor that shows more.

Search me, God, and know my heart,
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.
Psalm 139:23-24

Monday, June 1, 2015


I'm here to begin again. 

Words have eluded me for a long time.  I've wondered if I would ever again speak "worthy, not worthless words" (Jeremiah 15:19).  Seeing and communicating connections between my heart and His truth has always been one of my dearest passions, but the words simply haven't come. 

This has just been a long, silent season. 

And yet lately I have felt that maybe I have yet to say all there is to be said; Even, dare I say, that I might somehow yet be His mouthpiece. 

Father God, You give greater grace.  And good thing, because I sure do need it.  I know there's been a purpose in the quiet.  I know it.  So as I just take this first step back into all of this, let me acknowledge You first, understand Your Word, and recognize it all beautifully alive in the world around me.

In the strong name of Jesus,