New Song (Psalm 144:9)

bow strange yet familiar in my hand
fingers fumble across strings
eyes dart back and forth to soak it all in
tracing overgrown paths from symbol to song
all is new again, these melodies I've heard before
how is it that so much time has passed
foolishness says it won't be done
but nervousness quickly gives way
only a few tries before I hear the song arise
from my heart-well of gifts and graces
You draw a new song, O Lord

Safe (Psalm 4:8)

My gregarious boy can hardly speak of anything else as he anticipates a weekend with cousins and, especially, a day at the waterslides.  He counts sleeps and I count calories, all the while knowing I can't shrink those love handles in one week.  His mind returns endlessly to the question of swim googles and will we get them on time for the trip, while mine is drawn back over and over to the sight of my belly as it bulges over my waistline.  He whispers excited questions about what we will do on the drive as I whisper embarrassing lies about my worthiness to don my bathing suit in confidence.  His joyful anticipation can be a little much, but my ongoing obsession tops childish preoccupation.

The thing is, when it comes down to it, I will put on the bathing suit, steel myself, and pretend I'm fine with what I see.  I will enjoy the slides, the kids, the fun, and avoid thinking about what others see when they look at me.  I might feed myself some lines about being beautiful, God-created, perfect-in-every-way, loved-the-way-I-am.

But I won't believe them.

Oh how I wish I could believe them.

I wish I was safe from my own judging eyes.

See, it's not the others, it's me I am not safe from.  Rationally, I know that in many ways I have worked hard to get where I am.  I know that my body's strength and endurance are greater than they have ever been.  I know that my body has housed and fed three children in a short span of time and bears the associated beauty marks and battle wounds.  And yet, I see the mistakes, the weaknesses, the failures.  I see the jiggle, recall the extra dessert, the skipped workout.

Father, thank You for being my safety.  I see more and more that you are my only true safety.  My friends are not perfectly reliable, my husband not faultlessly all-knowing, myself not purely gentle and kind.  Today I choose to lean in to You.  You see all and You define truth.  You see all and love without condition.  You see all and hold me in Your safety.  You see all and declare Your love for me as greater than.

Incense (Psalm 141:2)

slow-cooker boasts of homemade apple juice
warming slowly on the counter
one squeezed orange and a sprinkling of cinnamon
the scent of winter warmth and cozy nights
the most tantalizing of promises
delicious delicacies and comfortable company
desperate whispers, mindless songs
inward cries, upward sighs
each adding to the fragrance of His throne-room
pleas and praises mingling
my prayers rise like steam
intoxicating
He breathes me in
the aroma of longing
and of belonging

Hope (Psalm 146:5)

Day after day and tough spot after tough spot, I cling to hopes that I know will make me happy.  I hope they all sleep in.  I hope they get along.  I hope I can get the house cleaned up.  I hope the weather warms up.  I hope he can control himself.  I hope this is a phase.  I hope nobody spills.  I hope they don't embarrass me.  My next level of happiness, peace, relaxation, and comfort hinges on my hope of the next thing.

Except if doesn't.  When my hopes go unrealized, my bitterness grows.  And when they are fulfilled, I still am not.

Because these hopes that consume are liars.  They promise things they cannot possibly come through on.  They don't deserve the name hope.  Wishes, maybe.  Fleeting, insignificant, pennies tossed into scummy ponds.

Only One deserves my hope.  He fulfills every promise and my thirsty soul.  Show me why I hope in You today, Lord.

Hope? (Psalm 146:5)

Two lost pieces of the newest puzzle.
Third pair of pants getting covered with sticky.
Another carpet needs to be vacuumed.
Valentine's cards all over the floor.
Double meltdown at the park.
Cold wind.
Big red bump beside his eye.
Poopy diaper.
Marbles flying.
Poopy diaper - again.
Toddler on the table.
Peed-on socks.
Slamming doors.
Valentine's cards all over the floor - again.
Dishes multiplying.
Joy diminishing.
Hope elusive.

Giving because He Gave

John 3:16
For this is how God loved the world:
He gave His one and only son
so that everyone
who believes in Him
will not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16

The words bounce off our tongues and the dining room walls as we munch on granola.  The rhythm and repetition is for them, for me, for fun, for memory, for minds, for hearts, for eternity.  This is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only son.  Infinitely many ways to love, but this right here is how God chose to love the world: by giving.  By lavishly filling my need with his excess.  Not His leftovers, His firstborn.  Not His unwanted, His beloved.  Not someone else's, His own and Himself.

And so we give.  We love because He first loved us.  We give because He first gave us.

The choice for Goofball was easy today: straight to his precious animals, one of his favourite horses.  Shep took more time and thought, but came back with the bowling set.

Lies

The lies I'm hearing are getting out of control:
You shouldn't have eaten that lunch.
You should have worked out yesterday.
You should have done more sit-ups today.
You shouldn't have snuck those chocolates.
You should have more self-control.
You should have more discipline.
You shouldn't jiggle there.
You don't deserve to feel beautiful.
They come faster and yell louder and I convince myself that I am just not in the mood.  The biggest lie of all can cover my more painful lies, the ones I tell myself:
I don't want him to touch that.
I don't want him to see that.
I am not worth the effort.
I don't deserve to be beautiful.

Heartcrack

A little fissure turns into a deep crack that drips out the mess you haven't quite labelled yet.  The drops of confession pool and the heartleak gets faster as words get put to the whelming undercurrent.  There is beauty in the puddle of vulnerability.  The pain I see so closely reflects mine and it is easy to know, and yet I didn't.  As I see the ashes your entrust me with, I sigh with understanding and turn my eyes to Him who knows the beauty that is coming.  Can you give up the guilt, honey?  Can you give up your picture of what should be and your fear of what might become?  Can you let that crack be where He whisper-pours into a deeper part of you?  For where you are weak, He responds with mercy.  And where you are weak, He is strong.  He will trade you those filthy rags of despair for a brand-new uniform of praise.

Weak (Psalm 6:2)

I'm losing my mind and I'm losing my voice.  Incessant whining and selfish entitlement are sucking me dry.  How did they get so irritating, self-centered, unlikable?  I raise my voice in frustration more times than I am willing to admit.  Because I know I am supposed to be patient, be kind, model love, and model grace.  I am the adult, the parent, the role model, the bigger person.  I know this time is short and these battles will drift away too quickly.  I know my time of influence is so limited and so critical.  I know what I want to be to them.  I know what I want to teach and instill.  But they hover and grumble and demand and never stop.  And I am just so weak.  I don't deserve this responsibility.  I don't have enough to give.  I am so weak to resist the impulse to be aggravated again.

With the psalmist I cry out, "Have mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am weak."

And then I praise with all the confidence this pitiful soul can muster today, "Thank You, O Lord, that (of all the options) You respond to my weakness with mercy.  Thank You, Lord.  Thank You, Lord."

Greater Joy (Psalm 4:7)

I have it so good.  My husband is amazing and caring and we enjoy each other so much.  My kids are healthy and brilliant and hilarious and handsome and fun.  Our house feels just right for us and is allowing us to do so much for us and for others.  The friends I have right now know the real me and love me as I am.  I have time and energy to recognize my passions and opportunities to live them out.  My circumstances have their challenges here and there but, for the most part, I am living an easy and easy-to-say-blessed life.

And yet God declares that He fills my heart with greater joy than the most wonderful of circumstances.  My heart's joy is fickle.  I want it to be His Greater Joy, but I fear it isn't.  At all.  I know and rely on His love in the easy.  Because it is easy.  Or at least I did yesterday.  It is so easy to forget.

Lord, give me roots in Your Greater Joy for the long haul.  To know and rely on Your love in the hard.  Because it will be hard.  All around me is hard.  I barely finish typing the word 'hard' and another email arrives bearing someone else's bad news.  That's five in the last two weeks.  Four little souls gone way before their time and one more hanging in the balance.  Five enormous spheres of influence pierced with the hardest of hards.

It could be me.

I want to believe that I would still believe.

But all I can do for now is behold the beauty of the Lord.  Day in and day out.  Breath in and breath out.  I will seek Him, that I may dwell in His house and behold His beauty.  Adoring him each moment, I am becoming what I behold.

Those Who Dream (Psalm 126:1)

Once captive to the monthly cycle of waiting and hoping, its loop-de-loop of anticipation and devastation so heartless in its extremes.  Enslavement to hope, as ironic as it seems, held me prisoner as love became effort and two became not-three.  Month after month, slower than I could stand and faster than I wanted, because the end result was always the same: the hope of all I had ever wanted, bleeding away again.

And then, one time it didn't.  One time the imagined hunger, exhaustion, and nausea became suddenly as real as the two lines that set me free.  Free to hope and dream and imagine myself in the role I was made for.

The role I am loving.  The role I am learning.  The role that is so much more than I could have ever understood.  The role that is changing me for Him and for them.

That confinement seems so long ago now.  He has given me the desires of my heart and then filled my heart with dreams of Him.  Big dreams, scary dreams, the kind where He Will Carry dreams.  I am captive no longer.  I am like those who dream.

Trophy Case (Psalm 147:10-11)

I don't want to brag, per se, and yet I'd like it if you noticed the things I'm good at.  See, I fake confidence well but it doesn't always come from below the surface.  So as much as I don't want to have to nonchalantly walk you past my trophy case, it would be nice if you said something nice.  That shiny one in the corner is for Stellar Friendship.   I'm pretty selfless, actually, and persistent in pursuit of people and relationships.  Maybe compliment me on how together my parenting is, I have a few medals hanging towards the left there: Rarely Yells and Fosters Growth.  An off-handed remark about how well I manage to stay on top of so many people and things wouldn't hurt (the inscription calls it Amazing Multitasker).  You might take note of my blue ribbons in Listening, Caring, Reaching Out, or Connecting. Did I mention that I came in just shy of first in the Empathy Olympics?  Oh, and the video looping over there is of my church accomplishments - I'm pretty awesome at our worship nights.

You must be pretty impressed, amirite?

Except that you aren't.  You aren't excited by what I can do and accomplish.  My strengths and successes are not what draw You to me, O Lord.  You just delight in me, straight up; in me who trusts in your love.

God Names the Stars (Psalm 147:4-5)

It's not like He needs to call them to supper or remind them that it's time to hurry up and get ready.  He won't be singing them a silly song or tucking them into bed at night.  I can't imagine he'd holler from afar when they're about to do something dangerous.  He doesn't need to call one, and differentiate it from the others.  It's not even like he needs to whisper in their ear, convincing them of His love.  Why do you think God names the stars?

Not Quite Wanted

They like me, right?  I think they do.  No, they DO.  I know they do.  And yet...  And yet I can't quite shake the feeling of not quite being wanted.  Like it doesn't really matter if I can come or not.  Like they are being nice for remembering to invite the married mother-of-three in the first place.  I know they cannot mean it like that.  I know they cannot understand or be expected to understand the desire to spend time with my family, the difficulty of a spontaneous weekend away, the financial strain of 5 people living on one salary, the pressure of making sure my kids don't mess with their fun, the guilt of leaving them with my husband too long or too often.  And I don't know that I really want to be included and invited to everything so that I just end up having to say no and end up feeling guilty and disappointed.  I don't even know what I want - except to not feel like an afterthought.  I want to feel wanted.

Unfurl

I awake every morning and unfurl my roots into the rich depths of You.  I stretch towards the sun and my soul cannot get enough of your warmth and  goodness.  You feed me life and strength and joy to embrace the day.  You cover me with cool peace and gentle rest to restore me in the night.  You weather me, growing me into the beauty that you envision.  May my fruitfulness bear my thanks to You.

Quicksand

I'm just sad that you're hurting.  I'm sad that you're sinking and tired and can't envision trying to slog your way out of the quicksand.  I'm offering you my hand over and over and all you do is lift yours to wave.  I used to think of you and smile, but now your name makes my heart feel so burdened.  I love you and I want so much more for you than this.  I'm just so sad that you are hurting.  In my dreams I am the quicksand-gobbling monster that takes all this away.  But in my prayers I am on my knees begging God to show Himself to you and to let this be the thing that cracks you open wider for Him.

Exalt Devo 2

God pulls me in and the words in my ear make me fall for Him all over again.  His voice booms as it whispers and I hear Him utter entwined messages of worth, healing, and confidence as only the Divine can.

Deep and inexplicably selfless love rejoices over me in glorious melodies that flow from His lips as He convinces me of my significance in His eyes.  This is the message I have known since childhood, but its words now take root in my heart and take shape in my life in ways altogether new and mesmerizing.

For alongside the majestic singing of my God are the emboldened murmurs of my own heart as it begins to bubble.  And what else could it do but respond?  That is exactly what it should do.  We love because He first loved us.  I love because He first loved me.

What is stirring in your heart?  If He loves you, and He does, what happens next?  Perhaps you want to take more opportunities to stop and bask in that love.  Perhaps you want to practice living in the awareness of that love throughout your day.  Perhaps you want to tell Him that you love Him too.  Perhaps His love has awakened the desire to rekindle your relationship.  Perhaps His love makes you want to do something tangible for a neighbour or a friend.  Perhaps His love is calling you to step up, open up, give up, make up, sign up, speak up, or listen up.

During this time of prayer, respond to God's love in some way.  It might be in an attitude of the heart, and that is great.  But if you have felt a concrete stirring in response to God's love at work in you tonight, pay attention to what He is saying to you.  Pray about it now and while you are talking to Him about it, pull out your phone and write down your response to His love.  Make a reminder to yourself and don't let yourself off the hook.  This isn't just another to-do, this is a response to God's love for you.  Let's pray.

...

Each of us has a unique relationship with You, Lord.  As we encounter your unfailing love for us, we will each respond in our own way.  Give us the ears to hear and the eyes to see Your greater-than-we-can-grasp love for us.  Give us the courage to respond to it wholeheartedly, faithfully, and recklessly.  Amen.

Exalt Devo 1

The days I choose to dwell on His love for me are never fruitless.  I cradle my Bible in my hands like a morning cup of coffee, inhaling the aroma of His word.

A few minutes later my reflection looks back at me, toothbrush dangling between its lips and hair untamed, and I claim the tenderness of His love in His words that I have trouble believing:
You are altogether beautiful, my darling, there is no flaw in you.  You have stolen my heart, my treasure, my bride.  You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes.

The warmth of His adoring love follows me as my day goes on until the next momentary breath of quiet and with a mountain of tasks ahead of me my body slogs through the mundane letting my mind engage with more of His words: He rescued me because He delighted in me.  The Lord takes pleasure in His people.  He will take great delight in you.  He will rejoice over you with singing.  As I let the words circle around and around they spiral their way deeper into my heart.  He takes great delight in me?  He looks at me and breaks into song?  Already my day is changing in light of this jubilant and uncontainable love I am not sure I will ever understand.

A few hours later, in a place of regret and shame for the careless words I have spoken, never mind godless attitudes I have entertained, my thoughts turn to the One who knows the most intimate details of my outside and my inside.  The One who knit me together, formed me in darkness, and knows every hidden crevice of my soul, has precious thoughts about me.  My Creator has more precious thoughts about me than I could count.  Again I am floored by His intimate and forgiving love, in awe that it is directed at me.

The pace of the day picks up, needs around me and demands upon me.  This time hours pass before my heart is stirred again into looking up.  The thoughts of His love that have been percolating all day seem to be culminating as they rest upon the stunning realization that there is no greater love than that of my God for me.  That the way and the amount in which He loves me - even enough to give up His Son on my behalf - cannot be matched.  That no amount of time, space. joy, pain, doubt. shame, sickness, need, excess, circumstances, or messiness will ever be able to separate me from that unearned but oh-so-deserved-because-He-said-so love of God.

Let's use this time to deliberately engage with God's love for each of us.  Let's let it sink in to touch a deeper place inside of us.  I encourage you to consciously choose a posture for this time of prayer.  Do you want to stand in proclamation, raise your hands in praise, kneel in reverence, lay down humility, look up in intimate confidence, or leap for joy?  Choose something that reflects your understanding of God's love this evening and meditate on a verse, song, or truth that is resonating with you.  Let's pray.

....


God, we bask in Your love tonight.  You love us.  You know us and delight in us.  We can't make You love us more or make You love us less.  We can't understand why you love us or how much You love us.  We are just so thankful that You do.  Amen.