If You are Feeling Discouraged Today

I read it in the last verse of the Proverb for the day, and have the name for the crumbling I've been feeling inside:

"Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control."

~Proverbs 25:28

The chocolate wrappers lay scattered, the harsh words ring in my mind, and my deep desires to do well in this one-short life by honoring God meld weakly into words from my deceptive enemy aiming to crush my repentant heart into something unfeeling, something hard and jagged. Something broken down.

And always, faithful and tender, Father-God stoops low, reaches hands wounded and scarred with my brokenness down into all my mess, and whispers again for me to remember. Remember the Truth so I can re-member, strong Carpenter hands gently crafting all the shattered pieces to somehow fit back together in a cross-beautiful mosaic.

And when I don't feel like writing because I don't know how to do it honestly without being exposed He covers me with His truth, His word a salve to my raw, discouraged heart.

"But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness. "

~Hebrews 3:13

So, choosing to keep my heart tender as He re-members me, I remember in thankfulness His great gifts from these past couple of weeks. My prayer is that you may be encouraged and lift your eyes up to Him, the author and perfecter of your faith.

#390 a message responded to

#391 being able to proceed with Selah's adoption

#392 a loving God who is faithful to complete His work in even the strongest willed

#393 hearing unexpected maturity in a voice

#394 reminders to pray, pray harder

#395 first camping trip as a family

#396 breathing more fresh air, less conditioned

#397 tall, stretching tree trunks speckled with sunlight and shadow

#398 whole tops swaying, bending, rustling in wind

#399 cooked-over-coals pancakes, steaks, potatoes

#400 s'mores before and after dinner

#401 home grown spring mix

#402 a long weekend, extra time with the husband

#403 family that loves babies, children

#404 walking, pondering, praying, thanking

#405 praying the same prayer for weeks and months on end knowing He hears, and cares, and answers perfectly in His perfect timing

#406 Husband sharing his God-moments, thoughts, and questions with me

#407 being outside long enough to have sun-color left on skin

#408 the health/ability to walk 4+ miles with church family, carrying a home-made cross from a church member's home to the sanctuary

#409 feeling the weight of carrying a cross in some small way for a few moments

#410 the treasure of a few minutes in silent prayer next to a good friend

#411 Selah wanting the caption on her Easter drawing to be "It wasn't the nails that kept Him on the cross, it was His love for us."

#412 being-in-His-presence tears

#413 hands lifted high, fingers outstretched

#414 the baptism of a dearly loved brother in Christ, beloved children, church family

#415 that God has CRUSHED death

#416 an empty grave, forever!

Some of My Husband's Thoughts about Church Music

It took years of praying before he stepped foot into my church.

His memory burned raw from so many who had approached him in younger years, telling him he was going to hell. Anger and hurt throbbing because of arrogance of those judging without asking, listening, knowing him.

Judging him because of his dreads and septum ring, among other things.

And he was coming with an added chip on his shoulder, a growing distance between us because I kept telling him about this Jesus that I loved and now wanted to follow Who said I shouldn't be with him, definitely shouldn't marry him, if he didn't love Him as well.

I told him he shouldn't judge Him without knowing Him. He could identify with that.

There is so much I could say about this issue of judging others for now I won't get sidetracked but simply state this truth: discernment and judgement are NOT the same thing.

So he walked in quiet and slow, an observing presence that could not go unnoticed. He stuck out like a sore thumb, even in the back row. Locks hanging long, gold-tipped. Older church-ladies stared sideways.

He came, he listened, he thought much and said little.

So I was shocked when he lifted his expressionlessness for a moment, said he really enjoyed the sermons, but(as his face contorted as with a foul stench), the music was just too gory for him, really wasn't enjoyable.

Gory?

This coming from this metal music loving, mosh-pit smashing man? This coming from him who had music t-shirts with print I can't even edit enough to share here? This coming from a former video-gamer who played things I couldn't stomach being in the room with?

Church music. Really??

Then every time we went, he pointed out what I had never really absorbed, thought about... words I had just mindlessly been singing.

Washed by the blood... blood poured out... fountains of blood... nothing but the blood...

The examples went on and on and on. It seemed every song for weeks and weeks had something about blood and death and extreme suffering of soul and body.

Why had I never felt the weight of the words?

He who has ears, let him hear.

And years later, now in love with the One who he once found so offensive, Whose blood he rightly took as a marked stain against him... and then for him... he still humbles me with how well he pays attention to what we do in church, and what we sing, and why. I think about this a lot around Easter time because several Easters ago he asked me where Jesus' bones were buried, and our conversation lead me through the basics of believing in Christ that I hadn't thought about in. so. long.

His lack of churchy-ness has been a great eye-opening education for me in many ways. It brings me to tears the way my husband takes communion now each week. It truly bothers him how people rush through it, because he then feels rushed(because the communion servers will leave after a few moments of no one walking down the aisle), and he really wants to repent and thank God before partaking, in awe of Him, this awesome gift of brokenness making us whole that we celebrate especially this Sunday.

And he's been singing this song for days now... under his breath, then louder, then to me and girls with passionate goofy-seriousness that only our privileged eyes will ever see.

And he just has to play the video/song for me, doesn't shy away from accentuating each word, a solemn Joy lit up in his face, lifted in his voice...

"knowing I'm a sinful man... covered by the blood of the Lamb... Majesty! Majesty! Your grace has found me just as I am, empty handed but alive in Your hands! Majesty!..."

Please listen... and hear... and worship...

What You Should Say Directly to God More Often

Golden-green seeps softly in, sun filtered through stretching top leaves, washing a gentle good morning on my bedroom floor.

The box fan hums and the house is quiet, only occasional barely-there meows squeak from the weeks-old kittens learning to stagger-walk across my closet floor.

Yet before I even open my eyes, I want to surrender the day.

Wave a white pillow case weakly wild in the air and curl up fetal tight into intentional unconsciousness.

I feel the pressure of all that isn't done, all that can't possibly get done, all inadequacy and helplessness and tiredness that desperately wants to cry but just can't find the energy to form droplets or breathe any way but these short, tight breaths. The husband draws in long a deep breath, turns his sleep-peaceful face towards the light.

My mind races down the must-do-lists and should-do-lists and the guilty why-didn't-I-do-lists and I pray-beg for Him to stop it, because I know this mad morning mental dash is not a God-pace, cannot be sustained without becoming weary. So many left-over things, forgotten things piling up, that somewhere along the way I have forgotten what He left me... what He has written for my day.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

~John 14:27

My iron-deficient first trimester body wrestles down my Jesus-anemic soul, but if I don't get a dose of Him soon I will collapse into an exhausted mess that no amount of sleep could help. Only in sleep am I list-less but now even my sleep has become listless because I am ravenously spirit-starved for the Only Source of energy to wake up and greet the day in Strength and Victory.

And this is the day that the LORD has made for me to glorify Him in. If I give up on this day, who is to say I am guaranteed another? My soul is eternal, my body is not. Why do I so easily sip down the poisonous lie that this day, this morning, this hour, this moment can harmlessly be surrendered?

I remember that a bucket with a pin-hole leak still spills out as empty as if the pail were turned full-over all at once.

So to not lose this day one dripping moment at a time I count thanks and I recall scripture and now I say something often (in part) because I need to hear it often, these words that He showed me He has been missing.

"Abba...

I love You."

The words the Loving Parent never tires of hearing, always responds to in truth to His child the much needed affirmation.

"I love you."

These words I proclaim so boldly to others came surprisingly awkward and shy at first, being such direct intimacy, unpracticed in our relationship as of late. I was startled to find how different it was saying "I love Him" and being bride-vulnerable bare before Him saying "I. love. You."

I can thank Him, and make requests, and confess and repent but I don't heart-connect the same way as when I say plainly, simply, sincerely: "I love You."

It makes me aware how near He really always is... helps me to hear how often my Father is saying "I love you" to my distracted child heart. I think I better hear His words after I say this because I am listening for, and even expecting, His response.

He never disappoints.

Sharing a conversation from April 5th, 2011

**scripture portions of the conversation are linked to the full scriptures read, please click on a link to read the entirety of the powerful, loving Word directly**

"LORD, I hear You saying...

When You come to Me with a question, remember that I know what you really believe, and what you doubt in your heart. You are in error because you do not know the scriptures or the power of God.

Remember that after your momentary, breath of a life here on earth, that you can no longer die, for you will be like the angels in this way. I am the God of the living. I have a full view of all your ways. I examine all your paths.

LORD, hear me saying...

Please help me to not die from lack of discipline, led astray by my own great folly. Please help me to listen well to words of insight, and pay attention to Your wisdom so that I may maintain discretion and preserve knowledge when I speak.

Please help me to give thought to the way of life, I believe that You are The Way.

If my paths are crooked, I pray by Your Spirit that teaches me all things that I would know it, and whole-heartedly turn back to You.

Please mold me into a wife my husband may rejoice in and be satisfied by, a wife who captivates him by her love, not a never-ending, never-finished list of accomplishments. Please burn out the dross until I am loving and grace-full.

I acknowledge these good gifts can only come from You, the very Source of Love and Grace, and I approach Your gracious throne with bold confidence knowing that You wish me to bear this type of fruit for Your glory, that you always help me in my time of need.

I love you.

He stoops down, gently takes my hand, the Lifter of my head...

LORD, I hear you saying...

I love you, too.

I am not Self-seeking. I want you to come to Me for your sake. Don't worry, don't be afraid, I am patient with you. I am not keeping a record of your wrongs, I am not proud. I always protect, I always hope, I always persevere. I will never fail you.

I love you, too.

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. "

How about you, lovely friend? Do you find it easy or difficult to say "I love You" directly to God? When you do speak your love to Him in such a straightforward way, what has your experience of His response to you been?

A Quiet Thanks

Sometimes, saying less helps me to only say what I really mean.

So today, though a day late, with all my full-heart I give a quiet thanks...

#372 productive work

#373 Husband who watches kids while I exercise

#374 sweet, smeared little handprints on glass windows and doors

#375 sister who volunteered to serve in the nursery in my place, knowing my limited energy

#376 all-day nausea that means I am blessed again, let the sacrificial bonding continue!

#377 the sound of sleeping

#378 sister-in-law who offered babysitting in place of the previously scheduled, now ill, family members

#379 a good report upon returning from work

#380 progress on Selah's adoption

#381 a hard message sent

#382 Baby girl talking more and more

#383 Husband calling-just because

#384 not enough time or energy to do it all-being forced to focus and prioritize

#385 a sister visit

#386 deep love between family

#387 not having to explain myself, just being myself

#388 a long-desired reconnection in a relationship

#389 the Word encouraging