If my last post was "She Said," this post is "He Said." Below, Brad shares his thoughts and recounts our conversation that inspired my last blog. However, this video is so much more than that. If you're a girl/guy, single/married, younger/older...there is rock solid, life-giving truth that breathed fresh hope and faith into my soul. Hope it does the same for you friend! I'd love to hear your thoughts! With love~Sam
Click here to watch: you are worthy
July 15, 2010
July 12, 2010
Nothing's Wrong
If you're joining me today from She Seeks...welcome!! Below is the post I wrote after the Lord seriously moved on my behalf to speak much needed truth. I'll be honest, it's still hard for me to maintain and believe at times, but I'm trying!
Thanks for hanging with us today...and please check back to the She Seeks sight for more encouragement on this topic throughout the week @ http://sheseeks.org.
Much love, Sam
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hi, my name is Samantha. [Everyone in unison, now...."Hi Samantha."]
I’m 32, single and have no kids [SWNK].
Typical responses tend to be: “Why aren’t you married? You’re too sweet! You’re so pretty. But you’re so good with kids!”
{Permission to roll your eyes, granted.}
My inward response, accompanying the clinching of my jaw through a forced smile is something like, “Don’t you think if I knew what the problem was, I’d fix it?” My hunch is that if you are over 18 and SWNK you not only relate to these feelings but have experienced these seemingly condescending verbal “pat-on-the-backs,” too.
Perhaps the grace has worn off, my hope has run out and disappointment has rendered me jaded. But the married well-meaners attempting to make me feel normal for being SWNK has become downright hurtful. Years of these comments have dragged me down and dampened what faith I do have. Not only that, but it turns me off from wanting to engage in any conversation about marriage or my desire for it. Including conversations with the Lord.
Honestly, I will do just about anything to avoid talking about how I dream of marriage. And not just the fairy tale part, because I’m a realist. I’ve dated. I’ll leave the rainbow connection to the dreamers, lovers and Kermit. Bring on the nitty-gritty, can’t-stand-your-face much less the-way-you-breathe stuff. Because on the flip side of that is the nitty-gritty, can’t-stand-life-without-you stuff.
All but 3.5 of my friends are married, so ask me anything about marriage and I’ll probably know the answer. Now don’t get me wrong — I really do love hearing stories, but I long to be able to share my marriage stories in return. So I compare myself with those who are married. What do they have that I don’t? Why them and not me? What have I done that exempts me from marriage? Why aren’t I married? Why?
Just recently God took extreme measures to speak to me about my marriage doubts, fear, hopes and dreams for a family. He literally had to take me around the world, to the country of El Salvador, to present me with some truth He’d been trying to tell me for years, but I wouldn’t listen.
At the end of the week on the way to the airport, out of the blue my friend, Brad, started talking with me about marriage. My guard went up. I didn’t want to defend the “why” questions. But this conversation was different. It was as if the Lord gave Brad x-ray vision into the deep recesses of my heart.
“It haunts you, doesn’t it? It keeps you up at night. Wondering why. ‘Why aren’t I married? What’s wrong with me?’ I know, because it once haunted me, too.”
I wanted to deflect this conversation, and the hurt built up from the years of unanswered “whys.” Yes, my thoughts haunt me. But then God used five little words to wash them and the pain and doubts away.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
At that moment, “trapped” in a conversation I didn’t ask for on a bus halfway across the globe, all the “whys” were left voiceless from one simple voice of truth…His truth. Years of frustrated heartache and wondering sleepless nights were washed away.
That is the same message I share today, with you. Girl, there is nothing wrong with you. You are okay. Better than okay, just as you are. You don’t have to be funnier, cuter, quieter, trendier, spiritualer. Rather than defending yourself from other people’s whys and your own personal questions, I encourage you to let those five words fight for you as they did for me. If for no other reason, because they are true. There is nothing wrong with you.
Song of Solomon 4:7, “There is no flaw in you.” (NIV)
Thanks for hanging with us today...and please check back to the She Seeks sight for more encouragement on this topic throughout the week @ http://sheseeks.org.
Much love, Sam
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hi, my name is Samantha. [Everyone in unison, now...."Hi Samantha."]
I’m 32, single and have no kids [SWNK].
Typical responses tend to be: “Why aren’t you married? You’re too sweet! You’re so pretty. But you’re so good with kids!”
{Permission to roll your eyes, granted.}
My inward response, accompanying the clinching of my jaw through a forced smile is something like, “Don’t you think if I knew what the problem was, I’d fix it?” My hunch is that if you are over 18 and SWNK you not only relate to these feelings but have experienced these seemingly condescending verbal “pat-on-the-backs,” too.
Perhaps the grace has worn off, my hope has run out and disappointment has rendered me jaded. But the married well-meaners attempting to make me feel normal for being SWNK has become downright hurtful. Years of these comments have dragged me down and dampened what faith I do have. Not only that, but it turns me off from wanting to engage in any conversation about marriage or my desire for it. Including conversations with the Lord.
Honestly, I will do just about anything to avoid talking about how I dream of marriage. And not just the fairy tale part, because I’m a realist. I’ve dated. I’ll leave the rainbow connection to the dreamers, lovers and Kermit. Bring on the nitty-gritty, can’t-stand-your-face much less the-way-you-breathe stuff. Because on the flip side of that is the nitty-gritty, can’t-stand-life-without-you stuff.
All but 3.5 of my friends are married, so ask me anything about marriage and I’ll probably know the answer. Now don’t get me wrong — I really do love hearing stories, but I long to be able to share my marriage stories in return. So I compare myself with those who are married. What do they have that I don’t? Why them and not me? What have I done that exempts me from marriage? Why aren’t I married? Why?
Just recently God took extreme measures to speak to me about my marriage doubts, fear, hopes and dreams for a family. He literally had to take me around the world, to the country of El Salvador, to present me with some truth He’d been trying to tell me for years, but I wouldn’t listen.
At the end of the week on the way to the airport, out of the blue my friend, Brad, started talking with me about marriage. My guard went up. I didn’t want to defend the “why” questions. But this conversation was different. It was as if the Lord gave Brad x-ray vision into the deep recesses of my heart.
“It haunts you, doesn’t it? It keeps you up at night. Wondering why. ‘Why aren’t I married? What’s wrong with me?’ I know, because it once haunted me, too.”
I wanted to deflect this conversation, and the hurt built up from the years of unanswered “whys.” Yes, my thoughts haunt me. But then God used five little words to wash them and the pain and doubts away.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
At that moment, “trapped” in a conversation I didn’t ask for on a bus halfway across the globe, all the “whys” were left voiceless from one simple voice of truth…His truth. Years of frustrated heartache and wondering sleepless nights were washed away.
That is the same message I share today, with you. Girl, there is nothing wrong with you. You are okay. Better than okay, just as you are. You don’t have to be funnier, cuter, quieter, trendier, spiritualer. Rather than defending yourself from other people’s whys and your own personal questions, I encourage you to let those five words fight for you as they did for me. If for no other reason, because they are true. There is nothing wrong with you.
Song of Solomon 4:7, “There is no flaw in you.” (NIV)
May 12, 2010
A New Heart
Then you will know that I am the LORD. Those who hope in me will not be disappointed. ~Isaiah 49:23
Last week I had the incredible gift of being in El Salvador with Compassion International (www.compassion.com). How do I describe it in black and white?
Brilliant, life changing, grace-filled, abundant joy…that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
Amazing, huh? But if I’m honest, I was hesitant of going. Because going across the world meant going to a place in my heart I feared. A place a dream was buried. A dream I was afraid to re-awaken for the amount of grief it would cause should it die again. When this dream is surrendered to the Lord, it ruthlessly, tenderly breaks me in a thousand ways. Good ways. But it’s not been surrendered. It’s been locked up and covered with the dust and debris of hurt, mistrust and disappointment.
Disappointment not in the dream. Rather, in the dream Giver. The Giver of all things…life, faith, trust, desire, dreams. I know this is Truth. I really do. But my reality had shifted from this Truth to a lie in which the Giver was the Taunter…dangling the proverbial carrot, always in sight; always out of reach.
He’d been trying to talk with me about this for some time. But you know, home and life are superb sound barriers. I didn’t want to hear about it anymore and retorted, “If this dream isn’t going to come true by yesterday, don’t mention it again.” And as the day to leave for El Salvador drew closer, I quietly, but desperately buried deeper the place my heart dreaded. Disdained. Hated even. I admit I wasn’t fond of who I’d become in this part of my heart. It was ugly. Seriously filthy. But I was so angry/resentful, I held onto it.
The first night in El Salvador we broke off in groups. Our leader Ryan asked each to share how we could be praying for one another throughout the week.
It was then I heard the knock. My bygone dream rapping on the door of it’s cavity in my heart. “Let me out. Talk about me. Be accountable.” And so I did. And I cried. Blah. I didn’t want to, but dead dreams have that effect on me. Plus, I didn't want the trip to be about me. Pride and humility wrestled it out.
And through tears, I told of my love for missions, particularly foreign missions. And the grand temptation to turn my heart off…detach…withdraw, from loving the one in front of me well. Because I was given that dream when I was just a little girl and I carefully tended it for two decades. I was convinced it had been shut down and I had been deceived.
It’s scary to trust again. To open your heart once more. To greet the edge of a dark cliff and risk jumping takes quite a measure of faith. The possibility that maybe {holding breath here} maybe… the dream isn’t really dead, perhaps it’s just on hiatus… hibernating… germinating… cultivating…well, sometimes that feels like too much to bear. Is a twist on the old adage true? “It’s better to have dreamt and lost, than never to have dreamt at all.” I’m beginning to believe so.
Reality and Truth held my hand in El Salvador and gently eased me away from the lies, hurt, mistrust. How? Being with team members who wholly loved. Dared to fellowship with the severe ache of poverty. Embraced the pain and ministered through shared tears. Lingered in the presence of God a little longer. Being with El Salvadorian children who laid their tiny hands on my head in prayer. Radiated joy though they know more pain in their 6 years than I will ever know in 86 years. Proclaimed the goodness of our God with no reserve.
An open heart gives way to open ears. So many threw me a lifeline of life-giving affirming words without even knowing about my dreams. I catch myself still holding my breath at times. I’m still jumping gingerly. But last week a miracle happened that I can’t ignore. A dead dream came back to life; and hope was resurrected. And every day there and since, the Holy Spirit has gently tapped me on the shoulder and now I’m listening. He reminds me that yes, indeed, He is the Giver of all things. Life, faith, trust, desires, dreams. And Truth. For this I am grateful.
~Does this resonate with you too? I'd love to dialogue.
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. ~Ezekiel 36
Last week I had the incredible gift of being in El Salvador with Compassion International (www.compassion.com). How do I describe it in black and white?
Brilliant, life changing, grace-filled, abundant joy…that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
Amazing, huh? But if I’m honest, I was hesitant of going. Because going across the world meant going to a place in my heart I feared. A place a dream was buried. A dream I was afraid to re-awaken for the amount of grief it would cause should it die again. When this dream is surrendered to the Lord, it ruthlessly, tenderly breaks me in a thousand ways. Good ways. But it’s not been surrendered. It’s been locked up and covered with the dust and debris of hurt, mistrust and disappointment.
Disappointment not in the dream. Rather, in the dream Giver. The Giver of all things…life, faith, trust, desire, dreams. I know this is Truth. I really do. But my reality had shifted from this Truth to a lie in which the Giver was the Taunter…dangling the proverbial carrot, always in sight; always out of reach.
He’d been trying to talk with me about this for some time. But you know, home and life are superb sound barriers. I didn’t want to hear about it anymore and retorted, “If this dream isn’t going to come true by yesterday, don’t mention it again.” And as the day to leave for El Salvador drew closer, I quietly, but desperately buried deeper the place my heart dreaded. Disdained. Hated even. I admit I wasn’t fond of who I’d become in this part of my heart. It was ugly. Seriously filthy. But I was so angry/resentful, I held onto it.
The first night in El Salvador we broke off in groups. Our leader Ryan asked each to share how we could be praying for one another throughout the week.
It was then I heard the knock. My bygone dream rapping on the door of it’s cavity in my heart. “Let me out. Talk about me. Be accountable.” And so I did. And I cried. Blah. I didn’t want to, but dead dreams have that effect on me. Plus, I didn't want the trip to be about me. Pride and humility wrestled it out.
And through tears, I told of my love for missions, particularly foreign missions. And the grand temptation to turn my heart off…detach…withdraw, from loving the one in front of me well. Because I was given that dream when I was just a little girl and I carefully tended it for two decades. I was convinced it had been shut down and I had been deceived.
It’s scary to trust again. To open your heart once more. To greet the edge of a dark cliff and risk jumping takes quite a measure of faith. The possibility that maybe {holding breath here} maybe… the dream isn’t really dead, perhaps it’s just on hiatus… hibernating… germinating… cultivating…well, sometimes that feels like too much to bear. Is a twist on the old adage true? “It’s better to have dreamt and lost, than never to have dreamt at all.” I’m beginning to believe so.
Reality and Truth held my hand in El Salvador and gently eased me away from the lies, hurt, mistrust. How? Being with team members who wholly loved. Dared to fellowship with the severe ache of poverty. Embraced the pain and ministered through shared tears. Lingered in the presence of God a little longer. Being with El Salvadorian children who laid their tiny hands on my head in prayer. Radiated joy though they know more pain in their 6 years than I will ever know in 86 years. Proclaimed the goodness of our God with no reserve.
An open heart gives way to open ears. So many threw me a lifeline of life-giving affirming words without even knowing about my dreams. I catch myself still holding my breath at times. I’m still jumping gingerly. But last week a miracle happened that I can’t ignore. A dead dream came back to life; and hope was resurrected. And every day there and since, the Holy Spirit has gently tapped me on the shoulder and now I’m listening. He reminds me that yes, indeed, He is the Giver of all things. Life, faith, trust, desires, dreams. And Truth. For this I am grateful.
~Does this resonate with you too? I'd love to dialogue.
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. ~Ezekiel 36
May 10, 2010
Nixon
This morning I thought about the Good Samaritan. Do you know what I respect about that guy? He faded into the background. He didn’t hang around for kudos or praise. Taking care of the needs of the man was more important. And that’s what the amazing team at Compassion International does. It’s not about them. It’s about releasing children from poverty in Jesus’ Name. I stole that line from them. But it’s right and true. I saw the testimony of it. I held the hands of it. I walked the streets of it. I felt the weight and love of it.
A group of us spent last week in El Salvador. I promise I won’t write and post pics like one of those infomercials. You know the ones I’m talking about. My friend Brian spoke of ‘gratuitous poverty’ and that phrase stuck with me. I’m not here to barter one child’s story for your guilt. Instead, I want to share so maybe, just maybe, through a glimpse of a life, together we’ll trust the magnitude our choices can make in one life, one family, one community, one generation, one country.
Because one life surely changed mine. And the thought of him had me weeping yesterday. All day. So other drivers wouldn’t think I was nuts, at one point I turned the bass in my car up to drown the sounds of gulping tears. But I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d cried louder so even one person had rolled down their window and asked me what was wrong. Instead of my sobs, I wish I would have shared with them about my trip last week.
That truly, one person can change a life. I know. I met Nixon.
He has a 100 watt smile. Is full of vibrant life. And so handsome in his perfectly pressed suit. A suit he irons in stifling 95 degrees. His care to honor us with this detail makes me cry.
Nixon. His mom sews the loveliest embroidered pillow cases. His sister playfully teases him. These three truly adore and support each other. Their genuine love makes me cry.
Nixon. Dreams of graduating from university. And starting his own company. To provide for his mom. She has gone hungry so her children would not. She has had to turn to a last resort to provide for food. A resort no child wants his mother to have to go to. That no mother wants to turn to. $3 a day buys food for half a week. Please pause and soak that in. His and her sacrifices make me cry.
Nixon. He and his family set a table fit for a king and honored us strangers there. And welcomed us in his home of bamboo and clay. Prayed for us out of a wealth of relationship with our God. Their humbleness makes me cry.
Nixon. Abandoned by his father. Tempted by gangs. Seduced by drugs. Surrounded by poverty. His hard and difficult background makes me cry.
Nixon. Captured by the Lord. Leads worships with fervor and joy. Preaches the Word with diligence. Forgives with abandon. His humility and passion makes me cry.
His life was changed by one sponsor. His life is now changing the lives of his mom and sister. His cousins. The 300 children in his program. His church members. His neighbors.
Me.
Y’all, my words aren’t very fluid today. There is so much I’d love to convey. But what I can say is this. It’s true. One person can change a life.
Makes me wonder what ever happened to the man the Good Samaritan rescued…
A group of us spent last week in El Salvador. I promise I won’t write and post pics like one of those infomercials. You know the ones I’m talking about. My friend Brian spoke of ‘gratuitous poverty’ and that phrase stuck with me. I’m not here to barter one child’s story for your guilt. Instead, I want to share so maybe, just maybe, through a glimpse of a life, together we’ll trust the magnitude our choices can make in one life, one family, one community, one generation, one country.
Because one life surely changed mine. And the thought of him had me weeping yesterday. All day. So other drivers wouldn’t think I was nuts, at one point I turned the bass in my car up to drown the sounds of gulping tears. But I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d cried louder so even one person had rolled down their window and asked me what was wrong. Instead of my sobs, I wish I would have shared with them about my trip last week.
That truly, one person can change a life. I know. I met Nixon.
He has a 100 watt smile. Is full of vibrant life. And so handsome in his perfectly pressed suit. A suit he irons in stifling 95 degrees. His care to honor us with this detail makes me cry.
Nixon. His mom sews the loveliest embroidered pillow cases. His sister playfully teases him. These three truly adore and support each other. Their genuine love makes me cry.
Nixon. Dreams of graduating from university. And starting his own company. To provide for his mom. She has gone hungry so her children would not. She has had to turn to a last resort to provide for food. A resort no child wants his mother to have to go to. That no mother wants to turn to. $3 a day buys food for half a week. Please pause and soak that in. His and her sacrifices make me cry.
Nixon. He and his family set a table fit for a king and honored us strangers there. And welcomed us in his home of bamboo and clay. Prayed for us out of a wealth of relationship with our God. Their humbleness makes me cry.
Nixon. Abandoned by his father. Tempted by gangs. Seduced by drugs. Surrounded by poverty. His hard and difficult background makes me cry.
Nixon. Captured by the Lord. Leads worships with fervor and joy. Preaches the Word with diligence. Forgives with abandon. His humility and passion makes me cry.
His life was changed by one sponsor. His life is now changing the lives of his mom and sister. His cousins. The 300 children in his program. His church members. His neighbors.
Me.
Y’all, my words aren’t very fluid today. There is so much I’d love to convey. But what I can say is this. It’s true. One person can change a life.
Makes me wonder what ever happened to the man the Good Samaritan rescued…
August 27, 2009
Well Worn
A friend loves at all times. ~Proverbs 17:17
A blog I ran across recently asked What do you love? One of the answers made me smile.
old abandoned buildings and barns
Me too!! They are beautiful, wouldn’t you agree? Think of the life they once contained. The homes spilling over with holiday cheer, back yard weddings, late nights brimming with laughter, countless meals celebrated. And the barns…baby animals born each spring, tools to tend and harvest, games of hide and seek in the lofts.
If only walls could talk! Oh to hear stories of when they stood the test of time, sheltering those within from being…
Pelted by the rains.
Burned by the sun.
Blown by the winds.
Beat up by life.
I admire these structures. Even after all the years of weathering the elements, protecting those within, these buildings beautifully offer…
A roof for shelter.
Walls of sanctuary.
A firm foundation to stand on.
Windows from which to gaze and dream.
A place of refuge from the pelting, burning, blowing, beating.
And so, I ask myself, What do I love?
I love my relationships that are so like these sweet, weathered buildings. I love my friendships that are full of life, laughter, love. Vibrant with cheer, celebrations and care. I love my companions who weather life with me, beautifully offering…
Shelter when rains fall.
Sanctuary when I’m burned.
Foundations to stand on when the winds blow.
Hope to gaze ahead and dream for me when I can’t dream for myself.
And a place of refuge when the pelting, burning, blowing, and beating come.
Oh, and I love old abandoned buildings and barns too!
A blog I ran across recently asked What do you love? One of the answers made me smile.
old abandoned buildings and barns
Me too!! They are beautiful, wouldn’t you agree? Think of the life they once contained. The homes spilling over with holiday cheer, back yard weddings, late nights brimming with laughter, countless meals celebrated. And the barns…baby animals born each spring, tools to tend and harvest, games of hide and seek in the lofts.
If only walls could talk! Oh to hear stories of when they stood the test of time, sheltering those within from being…
Pelted by the rains.
Burned by the sun.
Blown by the winds.
Beat up by life.
I admire these structures. Even after all the years of weathering the elements, protecting those within, these buildings beautifully offer…
A roof for shelter.
Walls of sanctuary.
A firm foundation to stand on.
Windows from which to gaze and dream.
A place of refuge from the pelting, burning, blowing, beating.
And so, I ask myself, What do I love?
I love my relationships that are so like these sweet, weathered buildings. I love my friendships that are full of life, laughter, love. Vibrant with cheer, celebrations and care. I love my companions who weather life with me, beautifully offering…
Shelter when rains fall.
Sanctuary when I’m burned.
Foundations to stand on when the winds blow.
Hope to gaze ahead and dream for me when I can’t dream for myself.
And a place of refuge when the pelting, burning, blowing, and beating come.
Oh, and I love old abandoned buildings and barns too!
August 6, 2009
Have Mercy
Let us fall into the hands of the LORD, for his mercy is great. ~2 Samuel 24:14
LORD, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, O LORD. Renew them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy. ~Habakkuk 3:2
Yet give attention to your servant's prayer and his plea for mercy, O LORD my God. Hear the cry and the prayer that your servant is praying in your presence this day. ~1 Kings 8:28
Who knew a lawnmower would be a tool of mercy?
I didn't until my grass was knee-high forcing me to drop to my knees. Many times in prayer. And several with my scissors.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me back up....
I moved into my home when the weather had the potential of snow. Lawn care was the furthest thing from my mind! Late winter rolled into early spring rolled into the dog days of summer. Along with crickets and dusk at 9, summer gave birth to revived grass. Grass that didn't get the memo this girl did not own a lawnmower. Nor did she or her roomie have money to buy one.
So, what's a girl to do who lives surrounded by neighbors who can afford manicured lawn care? A girl breaks out her Fiskars of course! And when her hands are too blistered to continue cutting her grass with said handy scissors she goes to a yard sale (in case you're interested in giving this method a whirl, a square foot takes around 15 minutes). At said yard sale, she buys an ancient avocado green hedge trimmer. Brings it home. Connects every extenstion cord she owns (that'd be a whopping grand total of 2). Hacks the now nearly waist-high weeds, er ... grass, in the 25 foot radius her extension cords reach. And soaks her blistered, and now throbbing, hands in hot water. Have mercy.
Oh, and did I mention she avoids the persistent phone calls from her landlords reminding her of the lease which requires proper mowing, edging, trimming, and leaf blowing? The landlords who live three doors down with a bird's eye view of her yard. Have mercy.
And so she sneaks in well after the sun sets to avoid seeing in daylight what she knows is there--tall grass and annoyed neighbors. And then one day [night] she can't belive what her headlights tell her...the front yard is mowed! Mowed, edged, trimmed, raked, blown!! Have mercy!
Some mysterious person gave her the de-luxe lawn care package! To this day, she doesn't know who rescued her from breaking out the scissors and hedge trimmer again. Have mercy.
A month later a friend of a friend gave her an almost new mower. From Sears. With a bag. And blades. That cut a square foot in 5 seconds. Have mercy.
So, what's a girl to do when she receives a new mower? Well, for starters her roommate's dad changes the oil. And her friend's brother cuts the now eye-high grass for her (the backyard hadn't been mowed by Mystery Person.) Have you been outside in the South? In August? At 1 PM? Pushing a mower? Through a jungle? Have mercy!
And when it's all said and done she drops to her knees again; this time scissors and trimmer tucked snugly away in the utility room. She drops to her knees overwhelmed. She drops to her knees amazed. Amazed that she asked for mercy. Amazed that God gave it in so many ways. Have mercy. Mercy, indeed.
I honestly wasn't sure what I was going to do the rest of the summer/fall about my yard. There I stood before the proverbial Red Sea, knowing that unless the Lord parted the grasses (just roll with me here), I had no other way out. Part them He did.
Part them He does.
Sweet Heavenly Father, thank You for the character only You can develop in us as we stand before our "Red Sea," surrounded by the desert, the enemy, a massive impasse, and our own fear. We know You are the only One who can deliver us from the scorching dryness, the evil pursuer, the ocean of impossibilities and ourselves. We place our hope in You, to get us through this difficult season, and thank You for answering our cries for Your mercy. For the glory it will bring Your Name...for Your renown alone, Amen.
I love the LORD, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. ~Psalm 116:1
Answer me, O LORD, out of the goodness of your love; in your great mercy turn to me. ~Psalm 69:16
LORD, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, O LORD. Renew them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy. ~Habakkuk 3:2
Yet give attention to your servant's prayer and his plea for mercy, O LORD my God. Hear the cry and the prayer that your servant is praying in your presence this day. ~1 Kings 8:28
Who knew a lawnmower would be a tool of mercy?
I didn't until my grass was knee-high forcing me to drop to my knees. Many times in prayer. And several with my scissors.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me back up....
I moved into my home when the weather had the potential of snow. Lawn care was the furthest thing from my mind! Late winter rolled into early spring rolled into the dog days of summer. Along with crickets and dusk at 9, summer gave birth to revived grass. Grass that didn't get the memo this girl did not own a lawnmower. Nor did she or her roomie have money to buy one.
So, what's a girl to do who lives surrounded by neighbors who can afford manicured lawn care? A girl breaks out her Fiskars of course! And when her hands are too blistered to continue cutting her grass with said handy scissors she goes to a yard sale (in case you're interested in giving this method a whirl, a square foot takes around 15 minutes). At said yard sale, she buys an ancient avocado green hedge trimmer. Brings it home. Connects every extenstion cord she owns (that'd be a whopping grand total of 2). Hacks the now nearly waist-high weeds, er ... grass, in the 25 foot radius her extension cords reach. And soaks her blistered, and now throbbing, hands in hot water. Have mercy.
Oh, and did I mention she avoids the persistent phone calls from her landlords reminding her of the lease which requires proper mowing, edging, trimming, and leaf blowing? The landlords who live three doors down with a bird's eye view of her yard. Have mercy.
And so she sneaks in well after the sun sets to avoid seeing in daylight what she knows is there--tall grass and annoyed neighbors. And then one day [night] she can't belive what her headlights tell her...the front yard is mowed! Mowed, edged, trimmed, raked, blown!! Have mercy!
Some mysterious person gave her the de-luxe lawn care package! To this day, she doesn't know who rescued her from breaking out the scissors and hedge trimmer again. Have mercy.
A month later a friend of a friend gave her an almost new mower. From Sears. With a bag. And blades. That cut a square foot in 5 seconds. Have mercy.
So, what's a girl to do when she receives a new mower? Well, for starters her roommate's dad changes the oil. And her friend's brother cuts the now eye-high grass for her (the backyard hadn't been mowed by Mystery Person.) Have you been outside in the South? In August? At 1 PM? Pushing a mower? Through a jungle? Have mercy!
And when it's all said and done she drops to her knees again; this time scissors and trimmer tucked snugly away in the utility room. She drops to her knees overwhelmed. She drops to her knees amazed. Amazed that she asked for mercy. Amazed that God gave it in so many ways. Have mercy. Mercy, indeed.
I honestly wasn't sure what I was going to do the rest of the summer/fall about my yard. There I stood before the proverbial Red Sea, knowing that unless the Lord parted the grasses (just roll with me here), I had no other way out. Part them He did.
Part them He does.
Sweet Heavenly Father, thank You for the character only You can develop in us as we stand before our "Red Sea," surrounded by the desert, the enemy, a massive impasse, and our own fear. We know You are the only One who can deliver us from the scorching dryness, the evil pursuer, the ocean of impossibilities and ourselves. We place our hope in You, to get us through this difficult season, and thank You for answering our cries for Your mercy. For the glory it will bring Your Name...for Your renown alone, Amen.
I love the LORD, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. ~Psalm 116:1
Answer me, O LORD, out of the goodness of your love; in your great mercy turn to me. ~Psalm 69:16
August 4, 2009
Resting on the very Word of God
The counsel of the LORD stands forever,the plans of His heart from generation to generation. ~Psalm 33:11
Yesterday I shared how my name was found resting on the name of God: Jehovah-Sabaoth, meaning the Lord of Armies.
In the midst of a lot going on at the conference, the voice of God whispered louder than the collective voices of 600 women attending. Amazing how His whispers to our hearts can drown out the masses.
One sweet whisper was a scripture He gave me from a pile of hundreds of verses.
Proverbs 19:21, Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails.
This is truth. Not circumstances. Not the journey. Not the outcome. The truth is God's sovereignty prevails. Or one could say His will is superior in strength, power, or influence; triumphant; wins out. God's will is predominant.
For this I am utterly grateful. I'd love to hear your verse from SS, or one that has spoken to your heart recently.
The mind of man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps. ~Proverbs 16:9
The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. ~Zephaniah 3:17
Yesterday I shared how my name was found resting on the name of God: Jehovah-Sabaoth, meaning the Lord of Armies.
In the midst of a lot going on at the conference, the voice of God whispered louder than the collective voices of 600 women attending. Amazing how His whispers to our hearts can drown out the masses.
One sweet whisper was a scripture He gave me from a pile of hundreds of verses.
Proverbs 19:21, Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails.
This is truth. Not circumstances. Not the journey. Not the outcome. The truth is God's sovereignty prevails. Or one could say His will is superior in strength, power, or influence; triumphant; wins out. God's will is predominant.
For this I am utterly grateful. I'd love to hear your verse from SS, or one that has spoken to your heart recently.
The mind of man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps. ~Proverbs 16:9
The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. ~Zephaniah 3:17
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