The Pink She Was Waiting For.

“Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant. “
Robert Louis Stevenson

There are moments in life which seem altogether harder than they should be…like getting a shower… or loading the dishwasher…or making it through a day without my five-year-old child hitting. Finding moments to take a walk with God. And yet these moments are hard.

 I’ve come to see all these minuscule moments in life as this lengthy chain of opportunistic choices which can bead together into something beautiful. Only without the string, each small, daily act falls apart and rolls around aimlessly across the slant of the floor. Some days He works in me to make something of value, and other days I string together my sin. I fail to put my hands to the cord which binds these moments into glory, His glory.

And there are moments when I try. Really hard. And I just don’t see it. I don’t see that it matters, that it helped, or that anything comes from my perseverance. Days when the dishes were just washed and the sink is already full, when the lesson was just taught—and forgotten. There are days when the same prayer has left my mouth so often, pressed in my heart so hard, that I forget all other words—and I wonder if it is heard. Or how long I must wait until my request is granted.

And then I must stop counting the beads, and look only at His working-hands. I must look at the work He has already done, and listen to the words He has already spoken.

He says: ⁶ Then Moses and Aaron said to all the children of Israel, “At evening you shall know that the Lord has brought you out of the land of Egypt. ⁷ And in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord; for He hears your complaints against the Lord. But what are we, that you complain against us?” ⁸ Also Moses said, “This shall be seen when the Lord gives you meat to eat in the evening, and in the morning bread to the full; for the Lord hears your complaints which you make against Him. And what are we? Your complaints are not against us but against the Lord.” (Exodus 16)

Recently—well, who am I kidding, for months and months my sweet girl struggled with her temper, and hitting. Each day, the same words poured from my mouth to her ears, and nothing changed. And when I hoped it had, I was informed, “It’s just that nobody made me mad today.” 

 
And then life paused. Pretty and pleasure were lost for a time; the room emptied. Pretty clothes replaced with plain-brown, unembellished. The absence of pink spoke loudest of all. Beauty surrounds when beauty comes from within, when He is within. And though it may seem a simple task, ours was not. After a while, a week of gentle hands, of self-control, after a whole-week-straight, beauty was restored. And flourished with a fresh coat of pink paint (her choice) over the walls, flowers around the windows. For beauty is in the reward of patience. 

And I was never more happy to see it. And since then, her little hands have never hit.


The Lord speaks to us in different ways. For her, he spoke in the absence of beauty. But the life-giving truth is that He does speak. And He listens. And He has heard my cries; He hears yours. 

I am still a beggar at His feet, still very much in need of a miracle. And He’s given me one—for He is sustaining me in my trial. He gave His people bread to the full. And He offers me, offers you, nothing less. He sent the Israelites bread while they wandered in the desert. It wasn't the promised land. 
It was what they needed to make it there. Just like He is what I need. He is the bread from heaven, the bread of life. But we have to gather it.

³² Then Jesus said to them, “Most assuredly, I say to you, Moses did not give you the bread from heaven, but My Father gives you the true bread from heaven. ³³ For the bread of God is He who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” (John 6)

May our God speak to and soften the hearts you pray for. May He soften our own. And may we speak expectantly, knowing He hears. And may we listen, knowing He speaks.

Together in Grace,

Amy

Five Stones.

He picked up five stones when one was enough. With one stone David brought down the Raphiam, the giant. But he held four more, one for each of Goliath’s four brothers. David went in to battle prepared. If Goliath’s brothers had shown their faces that day, his victory was secured— not by those four weights resting in the pouch at his side, but by God. My victory is equally secured because of Christ’s victory against sin and death and ultimately pain. But I need faith for the battle. Battle begs me to see that my faith: small, even stone-sized, is enough to defeat giants.

There have been hardships lately. I am not alone in this. And just when I hit the brink of exhaustion: raising, teaching, discipling, and learning the hearts and thoughts of my four children, decision-making, big decision-making (a husband immersed in engineering classes, and for the semester non-existent…) Hardship happens, more hardship happens, stress happens, stomach flu happens, then seizures happen.

I realize that I’ve gone into these battles with one stone, and I needed five, need to gather more. 

David fought the Rapha, the giant, the shades of the earth. These spirits are called the sons of God. (Genesis 6:4) Yet my Jesus is called by demons themselves as the only begotten son. With His word alone, a legion of demons is cast out of a man.

¹⁰ For He healed many, so that as many as had afflictions pressed about Him to touch Him. ¹¹ And the unclean spirits, whenever they saw Him, fell down before Him and cried out, saying, “You are the Son of God.” ¹² But He sternly warned them that they should not make Him known… (Mark 3)

And so it isn’t the size of the rocks I hold— it’s the weight of them. And these rocks of faith are just a chip of the Rock: the Alpha and Omega. And to the giant of this day, I have a stone to throw. For I say as David, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty…” (1 Samuel 17)

This name, The LORD Almighty, that is where the power lies. The solution is never more anything of me. The solution is always more of Him. 

²⁰ I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me. (Galatians 5)

So when my youngest daughter is crying of a toothache, which is in fact a cavity (I checked), and I’m on the phone with the dentist, and another daughter starts screaming because a younger brother has just smooshed her new snail as she was rescuing it from his dumping a whole container of brand new fish food in the tank, and the husband is moaning from the stomach flu, and now my two year old is screaming too, because he is being taken away from the smooshed snail—and the lady on the line at the dentist is still asking for birth date and address— and had this not been a dental emergency I could of hung up…in these moments, I call for the name of the LORD Almighty, and I reach for faith. And when I show up at 2:30 today and see the receptionist who heard all the kuffaful, probly wonders how great a homeschool mom I could possibly be with my parental dental failure and chaos, and my two year old is likely to give evidence to the assumption, again, I will call on the name of the LORD Almighty.

More of Him. More stones.

Victory.

Together in Grace,

Amy

 

My love sonnet from Him today: a sweet-half numb smile from my girl— the strength He gave both of us to face the giant of this day.

Swimming Lessons.

My body was not made for water. When floods come, I will sink. Only that deep breath of buoyant air pulls me up to the surface. Only that deep breath of God keeps me from sinking. 

And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being. (Genesis 2:7)

We were created to be God breathed.

⁴ The Spirit of God has made me,
And the breath of the Almighty gives me life. (Job 33)

It was by His breath all creation was formed, all life born. By His breath we are filled with spirit; by His blood we are saved, we, who took breath from Him as He hung. His dying breath filled us for all of eternity.

²⁴ “God, who made the world and everything in it, since He is Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands. ²⁵ Nor is He worshiped with men’s hands, as though He needed anything, since He gives to all life, breath, and all things. ²⁶ And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth…” (Acts 17)

Days when the hurting festers, when all you can do is force air slowly in and out of your lungs— just breathe. Breathe Him.

⁵ Thus says God the Lord,
Who created the heavens and stretched them out,
Who spread forth the earth and that which comes from it,
Who gives breath to the people on it,
And spirit to those who walk on it:
⁶ “I, the Lord, have called You in righteousness,
And will hold Your hand;
I will keep You and give You as a covenant to the people,
As a light to the Gentiles,
⁷ To open blind eyes,
To bring out prisoners from the prison,
Those who sit in darkness from the prison house.
⁸ I am the Lord, that is My name;
And My glory I will not give to another,
Nor My praise to carved images.
⁹ Behold, the former things have come to pass,
And new things I declare;
Before they spring forth I tell you of them.

(Isaiah 42)

May the only death I feel, be in my flesh, my sin, the pain of dying to self. May my life be filled, fully alive with His breath, filled with the Spirit He breathed into me. There is no death in Him. And if He has given me breath, may I speak, or write, or live, all in praise of Him.

Let everything that has breath praise the LORD. Praise the LORD! (Psalms 150:6)

And so this morning, as the Son has washed away the yesterday, birthed a new day, I breathe Him in deeply. And I do not sink.

Together in Grace,

Amy

But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob,
And He who formed you, O Israel:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.
² When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, Nor shall the flame scorch you. (Isaiah 43)

  

²¹ So Jesus said to them again, “Peace to you! As the Father has sent Me, I also send you.” ²² And when He had said this, He breathed on them, and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” (John 20)

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How to Soar.

 The wind howls in this valley. For days and nights it has whistled against the windows, shook these walls. I awake to it, restless as it is. I ask the Lord how I can love the wind. I just want it to be still, to quiet. The howling wind embodies all that is not at peace, not at rest. The wind keeps me bracing for damage: our heavy patio table lifted over the deck railing, tossed down a full story below. Shingles loosen.

Anything not anchored down is striped away.  

Joplin winds tore away its town last May. Tore away my sister-in-law’s apartment, shredding walls, furniture and memories alike.

And I ask God again, how I can love the wind?  

¹⁰ “He found him [Jacob] in a desert land
And in the wasteland, a howling wilderness;
He encircled him, He instructed him,
He kept him as the apple of His eye.
¹¹ As an eagle stirs up its nest,
Hovers over its young,
Spreading out its wings, taking them up,
Carrying them on its wings,
¹² So the Lord alone led him.

Deuteronomy 32

 

His Word answers me. I do not love the wind. I cannot. I love Him. I cannot stop the wind, can’t fight against it. He alone stills it. He, who is not against me, but for me; He who brings peace, who quiets the storm— He controls the wind.

And so I will ride on the back of my God, soar on His wide-stretched wings. I will let my hair whip in the air, let it carry away my voice. 

 

I will remember that it was wind which parted the Red Sea, wind which dried up the flood waters. And I will listen for the still small voice that comes after the wind. I will be anchored in Him so the storm cannot uproot me. I am encircled.

Who has ascended into heaven, or descended?
Who has gathered the wind in His fists?
Who has bound the waters in a garment?
Who has established all the ends of the earth?
What is His name, and what is His Son’s name,
If you know?

Proverbs 30:4

I know His name. He knows my heart. And so this wind is nothing. It may howl on the outside, but inside there is peace. He is our peace, our calm, though nothing else is. With Him, I will soar on this wind.

Together in Grace,

Amy

 Matthew 14: ³⁰ But when he saw that the wind was boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink he cried out, saying, “Lord, save me!”
³¹ And immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and caught him, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” ³² And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased.

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The Right Kind of Name Calling.

I’ve been called many names. Good ones, hurting ones. My daughter in her tantrum just called me the devil. He calls me Hephzibah. Rest assured it’s more flattering than it sounds to the ear. Hephzibah: my delight is in her. I find it second nature to delight myself in my children. Joy, extreme satisfaction, great pleasure. How long has it been since I’ve felt worthy of this? Since you have?

You shall be called by a new name,
Which the mouth of the Lord will name.
You shall also be a crown of glory
In the hand of the Lord,
And a royal diadem
In the hand of your God.
You shall no longer be termed Forsaken,
Nor shall your land any more be termed Desolate;
But you shall be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah;
For the Lord delights in you,
And your land shall be married.
For as a young man marries a virgin,
So shall your sons marry you;
And as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
So shall your God rejoice over you.

Isaiah 62

His spoken words need to always be louder than my unspoken thoughts. Hephzibah: my delight is in her. I was given a new name when a band encircled my finger. But our sin nature causes us too often forget to speak Hephzibah into one another's ear. He too changed my name— the day His love encircled my heart. He calls me, you, Hephzibah.

With hearts that yearn for deep intimacy, yearn to be delighted in, as He does, His words are given in each moment; words offered despite each of my failures. He says nothing less to our soul than Hephzibah and Beulah. I feel Beulah in the peace which falls only and softly from His heart. Beulah: a woman once termed forsaken, loved again, married, favored and blessed of God. My LORD, the God of Hosea speaks to my Gomer-heart.

It’s not about what name I call myself, not what I wish others to call me: loved; it’s what I am called— And what He too wants to be called.

Hosea 2: 16

“In that day,” declares the LORD, “you will call me ‘my husband’; you will no longer call me ‘my master'.” I will remove the names of Baals from her lips; no longer will their names be invoked…I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion. I will betroth you in faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the LORD.

Name calling should fall more often from my lips— when they are His names: the God who Sees, The Lord will provide, Holy One, Peace, Shepherd. And may I have ears to hear too the names He has given me, true names. May you know, may you hear it everyday: you are delighted in by our God. 

                                                 Delighting in my girls on an outing to the ballet this week.

Together in Grace,

Amy

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Arise, Shine.

For those of us who work both sides of the clock, burn both ends of the candle, and exhaustion and bleakness threaten. He says:

 

“The sun shall no longer be your light by day,
Nor for brightness shall the moon give light to you;
But the Lord will be to you an everlasting light,
And your God your glory.

Your sun shall no longer go down,
Nor shall your moon withdraw itself;
For the Lord will be your everlasting light…”

 

What a refuge to know that my God is working in each moment, His light never ceases. When I rise to a crying child in the night, or fall off the edge of my bed, crowded by three kids with bad dreams piled in, when I pour the millionth cup of milk, wipe up the spilled-bazillinth-one, check spelling lists, wash dishes, dirty dishes, switch loads of laundry…His light is everlasting, not my work. He is radiant heat to warm and soften hearts.  

 

Arise, shine;
For your light has come!
And the glory of the Lord is risen upon you.
 For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth,
And deep darkness the people;
But the Lord will arise over you,
And His glory will be seen upon you.
 The Gentiles shall come to your light,
And kings to the brightness of your rising.

“Lift up your eyes all around, and see:
They all gather together, they come to you;
Your sons shall come from afar,
And your daughters shall be nursed at your side.
Then you shall see and become radiant,
And your heart shall swell with joy;

Weariness melts away at the thought, at the image of this beauty, this love. A vision of such loveliness I long to be. I love to draw my children into my presence, but I long to draw them into His. For the slightest beauty and grace that may pass from my hands to their hearts is only a poor imitation of His outpouring of love.

And though my failings surround me each day, they cannot stand up to the grace and light of my gracious Father, calling me, calling your name too, to arise. “Lift up your eyes, all around, and see…” His love is all around… “Then you shall see and become radiant, and your heart shall swell with joy.”

What a glorious calling this motherhood, womanhood, daughter-of-the-King is. May we rise to it.

(Isaiah 60)

Together in Grace,

Amy

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Winters that Linger.

It seems this season has been here too long already. And what I desire fervently is to remain a vision of spring in the coldest winter. Never to share in its bitterness; never to become numb. I’m often vague in my struggles, for many reasons, and yet there is a glory in them. A glory in acknowledging the fierce love of God that can hold me, sustain me, in a season which has been long and painful.

Most of you who read this may know me a lot, or at least a little. But as these words pour out, are almost dragged from my heart, I write to those of you too in winter. I write to those of you with scarves wrapped tightly about your faces, hands pressed deeply into pockets as you brace yourself into the wind, as you stamp cold feet through piles of deep snow; those of you pressing in to the warmth of God’s fireside, and especially to those with small children at your side as you brave the storm. I’m writing as a sister, as a friend, as one who offers a hand, without answers, but a hand to warm yours along the journey. 

“I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?” ― C.S. Lewis

A friend recently shared with me, she was glad for Valentines. She was glad for the holiday because it would be good for me, a girl who loves to celebrate— to put out the special heart shaped plates and cover the walls with touches of color, and beauty, and notes of love. She was looking for me. I’ve been fading. For weeks now, I’ve had no words. But there have always been His. I do not think I’m alone in struggling to feel, or to dream. Sometimes beauty hurts more, because it draws out the barren land edging in at my heart.

While I still feel winter blowing in at the cracks beneath my door, I can yet cling to the warmth of His arms around me. And if I’m perfectly honest, when I look around at the blowing snow, it doesn’t feel enough. Yet it is; it absolutely is. It just isn’t all I want. And there is the misstep. I will always long for more because I was created for more. But feeling anything less than satisfied when at His side begs me to step closer into His shelter, not merely look to it.

Hope. Hope is jeopardous. It has stung my heart too often. Because I’ve let it. Hope always hurts when it’s in anything other than Him. That is my greatest struggle now. This cycle of hoping and hurting has wounded me to the point of disfigure. Yet, I hear Him, and I know that He yearns for my whole heart, my whole hope, my whole trust. And I know that He is the only One who will never betray that hope. When I can learn to only hope in Him, than His warmth will truly penetrate me. I will bask in His light, flourish.

He can tend the garden of my heart, breathe life, and joy, rest and beauty. This I long for. This I can long for because He will satisfy this longing. He will create beauty in me, beauty I yearn for in this life— because He is love and beauty.

And this breath of spring my soul longs for will deepen roots, strengthen me for children who have been entrusted to my warmth. How I long to be the strength they need. And as those words come, I know just how deeply He too longs to be our strength, longs to be all we need.

Dear friend, do you wonder if God call is really calling you to continue in the winter, if He meant for it to hurt so deeply? Do you question if God has given you enough warmth to keep the numbness from your heart, to keep the bitterness from seeping in? Do you doubt you have enough strength to keep loving, to keep your heart alive? To have any love left for others, enough strength to hold up those in your care? Do you have what it takes not just to survive, but to live well? Fully? Are you pressed into a place without answers? Asked to walk through a valley, given differing maps, to journey through uncertainty?

There is little in me to give to you, to give to anyone. But I am not what is needed— because He has offered himself, wholly. He is what is needed. He fills each empty place in our hearts. And if those places still feel empty, than we must reach for more of Him. He will never come up empty; His words never return void. The only hope I can offer is His. I don’t know how long your journey will be, or my journey. I only know where it ends. And whoever you are, I hope to worship at His feet with you at the end. And maybe we will meet and share an embrace of joy? For we will know that no matter how hard our journey was, no matter how long the season lasted, we were deeply loved because He was so deeply needed.

Luke 7:⁴⁴ Then He turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has washed My feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head. ⁴⁵ You gave Me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss My feet since the time I came in. ⁴⁶ You did not anoint My head with oil, but this woman has anointed My feet with fragrant oil. ⁴⁷ Therefore I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.”

He is your comfort, and my comfort, today, always. And if we have tears to cry, may they be at His feet. And if we have breath in us, may it be in utterance to Him. And if He blesses us with answered prayer, may we pour an oil of gladness at His feet, and if not, may we cling to Him more tightly. May our lips be at His feet, His wounded feet, as we bring our wounds to Him. And though He heals all pain, we may walk with scars as He did. And maybe, just maybe, we have been chosen for this trial because our Betrothed longs for us at His side?

So without answers, I must walk steadily on in His direction. He is the only salve for what I feel. There is nothing more to extend to your own hurting heart, and yet nothing less, than the hope of how wonderfully loved you are, and by Whom. And His love may not be revealed in the form we are expecting, or be all we thought we wanted, but it is always far better. May we pray and take heart together, that our own hearts can overflow— with His amazing love. Love sonnets from God surround us.

                                                                         an amazing way He has shown His love to me...

                        something beautiful~ made from just pieces...

                         A sister's gift of love, well-received.

                                                                                    His love and goodness, in every season.

In Christ Alone

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless Babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save

‘Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live, I live

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again

And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From a life’s first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny

No power of hell, no scheme of man
Could ever pluck me from His hand
‘Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand

I will stand, I will stand
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground, all other ground
Is sinking sand, is sinking sand
So I stand

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