If I could tip the world sideways and spill
the rain that came here last night
to you over there
and quench the thirsting flames
I would.
But I cannot
Instead I will pray for
Peace to enfold you (all)
Safety to surround you
Grace for those enduring terrible loss
Courage for everyone
Especially for those fighting the inferno
God’s work to be done in the midst of it in all the ways
For mercy
For rain.
Oh misunderstood day of rules and no play
You decree me into still.
Your will an arch imposed over my enjoyment,
Intended to stifle
I flail in defiance your managing way.
Stark, I perceive your hindering
Of my joyful run.
I glance sideways beyond my lashes to your disapproval,
Fearing the rope you try and constrain me with.
You, corralling the freedom I cherish
I’ve run the desert, free of your restraints
Wind lashing my hair as I toss this proud head
Scarring knees on ridges I stumble upon
Life has torn my body, infection flaming me
but I have no need of your restrictions.
Your attempts to keep me are in vain.
You stand, a wall around me, binding my efforts to escape
I resent your power. You fence me in and I’m confined.
Hands hung you move in my direction,
I flee but you are there hedging me in
Behind and before
I can’t escape you.
I want to make you leave me but you reach out and
I’m confused because you smell like safety and I’m aching.
You’re with me and just stand there
I’m distressed, eyes dilating
I need you, I fear you, I hate too the connection you rope me into,
I’m captivated by your slow and steady hand upon my face
I lower my proud head to your caress.
Your scent is alien, Your touch frightening,
I’m a spring ready to uncoil if you violate this trust I hesitate into.
You reach along the length of me, fingers tracing lacerations.
A vessel of warmth dribbles a cleansing flow through this pain,
I stay.
Your hands trace the long, strong legs of me,
feeling around and down to where I stomp the earth,
I’m hesitant still at you fingering scar tissue lacing a story across my skin,
I wince at some still raw place you touch.
Soft cloth, soft water, pungent in it’s antiseptic cleanse you sop across my wounds.
I yield into this relief.
How long have I run away from your tending.
You lead me to quiet waters where I plunge blistered lips in and drench my throat,
Cold river flowing down my neck,
You, who have hedged me in.
Tend me and fill, speak into my ears of your possession of me.
Why did I ever run from you?
Your barriers are an opening
A place defining refreshing
A location for infilling.
My definition of freedom, free of restriction, liberated me from your kindness, trapped me in infection, kept me always running
But now I need no harness
For I know your love is purest,
Your invitation to engagement is emancipation unknown in all my resistance.
I am yours, unfettered, free of obligation I come to you
For you are a safe place of lie me down,
vulnerable, open wide, replenishing rest.
“Oh blood and tears, how can it be, there’s a God who weeps, there’s a God who bleeds.
Oh praise the One, who would weep for me.
Hallelujah to the Son of suffering.”
How can it be …
That I would feel more familiar with guilt and shame than with the grace of that One who wept and bled for me.
Is this real?
Today. I travail, sitting with Him, mithering over my failings, fetid pride and coldness.
Yet, the song that sings to the surface of my soul is not of condemnation but reminds that He has paid it all.
My. Sins. Are. Covered.
Period
My heart … is a child … at this.
A wondering, wiping tears and snot away child, gazing up at this beloved Father inviting me into the embrace of this grace, the cancelling of blame and reminder that Jesus has covered all that.
Why then do I struggle to stay here, in this grace.
Why do I return to the pit of shame and try to SAVE MY-SELF and even have the foolish imaginings that I can save another.
Hubris and Shame.
Partnering together,
as Psychiatrist Curt Thompson would say, in The Soul of Shame.
https://curtthompsonmd.com/books/ (scroll down to this book on his site and you’ll find a free chapter).
The human condition leaves us, at our worst, in an exhausting cycle of try, fail, shame, try again, strive and fall in the pit again. Sounds pretty depressing and surely in the midst of that are successes and joys or we’d all be dead from lack of hope.
Is there hope though? A reason to lift our heads, a place of refuge?
I believe so.
There is a One, a Someone who carries both justice and mercy so tenderly and righteously in His hands, at the same time. And we’re told that He leans heavily on the mercy side. It’s His plan and will and purpose to save us. He wants to. He’s a good Father.
Do we grow tired of hearing it. Do our hearts grow brittle?
Yes, mine has at times.
Will we just pause for a moment and let this quiet grace waft through our souls. Can we let His reminder steady us?
“This is the message we have heard from Him and announce to you, that God is Light, and in Him there is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with Him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth; but if we walk in the Light as He Himself is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say that we have no sin, we are deceiving ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous, so that He will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make Him a liar and His word is not in us.” (1 John 1:5-10 NASB)
What happens when you read these words? Are you consumed with the idea that there’s no hope? ‘I can never attain to this and am only going to be judged.’
I used to read this like that.
Shame. Guilt.
However, the narrative I understand now is about a God, a holy God who is so good and pure that darkness can’t be found in Him. Only Light, good and of the purest essence. Don’t we love goodness. Isn’t it what makes us feel safe and happy. Things of goodness and pure beauty; stars, peonies, lambs, babies; make our hearts sing, awaken an innocence within us that gets lost in the harshness of life in the world.
Conversely darkness is associated with fear, evil, uncertainty, until a candle is lit, the moon lifts onto the black night and stars sprinkle their shimmery light across the vault. We leave night lights on in bathrooms and our children’s bedrooms.
Light is good. It’s associated with safety. Why then, do we understand the goodness of God, that He is Light, to be distant and unloving?
Truth be known, He went to great lengths to make Himself approachable. Read Leviticus if you can bear it. ALL the setting of the stage, the temple and Holy of Holies was God making a way for us to come near Him.
And then there was Jesus.
Yes, Jesus. The lamb slain for us.
Perhaps pause here and ponder how far God went to make Himself accessible to us …
~
Now read on and there’s the part about sin. ‘If we say we don’t have it we’re liars.’
God knows. We’re bloody liars. He knows!
But what’s next…?
Confession. If we will confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous, some versions say ‘just’, to forgive us our sins and cleanse us.
‘Confess’ according to Strong’s concordance (https://biblehub.com/greek/3670.htm) is to agree, to concede, to admit and be of the same mind.
Can we agree with the Father when we err, that we are sin-ful, in need of what He offers, knowing that He holds out grace to us.
Jesus has paid the price.
God wants to forgive us.
So what happens to shame then? The taunting whisper of “you can’t go back, you’ve gone too far, there is no forgiveness for you.
How does that weigh in the scale opposite confession and forgiveness?
“For the wages of sin is death, but the gracious gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23 NASB)
I’d say there is a weight of glory in the forgiveness of our Father that flips the lies of shame right off the scale. They feel heavy as they coil around our hearts, but lies are so often an illusion and disintegrate in the Light.
The lyrics quoted at the beginning of this post are from the oh so beautiful song by Matt Redman, Son of Suffering.
I want to be careful as I write this that I don’t minimize the holiness of God. The word does say that He lives in unapproachable light. He takes our disobedience seriously. He gave Jesus to us. We’d best not take that lightly. However, today I’m focussing on being ‘shame-less’ and living into the deep grace that He offers.
The world is tilting off the axis of all that’s sane and true.
But there’s this peace.
I weep for the children of this generation being thrown up and out into a sea of confusion with barely a holey boat to grasp onto.
But there’s this HOLY peace.
Not a resignation, but an accepting, trusting knowing WHO cups me and all of this and these ones I love.
Whatever comes,
I know this peace.
Lord on the darkest days
Remind me of this peace
Again
So I don’t flail
But rest in your good, just, all knowing, true Love.
Shalom
I felt it this morning, during a workout, strangely enough.
I follow Theresa Rowe at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Q8VQY2sG1c&t=1171s (this is the particular episode) . She teaches pilates and strengthening with weights and as she leads us in different maneuvers she speaks scripture out-loud.
Today it penetrated my heart, sharply, when she spoke this;
“If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men.” (Romans 12:18 NKJV), and then she asked if we are being contentious at times, hard to get along with.
And it continues, I was in a meeting recently discussing how to approach someone I work with who was having a harmful impact on others. As I shared how I would address this person (in a way I thought was reasonable), two of three people in the meeting suggested that I could gentle my approach. It took me aback as I didn’t perceive what I said to be harsh.
And again, as I cleaned out an old briefcase and found a personality assessment I’d done years ago, I remembered that I’d come out as a Lion/Beaver rather than a Golden Retriever or Otter which is what I’d much rather be known as. And other assessments I’ve done have come out the same way. I thought I’d just answered questions wrong, all those times (insert hysterically laughing face emoji here).
So it seems I can be overbearing. Be quiet anyone reading this who knows me. I hear you. “Well, duh! You think?”
It’s not a complete surprise.
And funnily, the verse I’ve been meditating on this month is 1 Peter 3:4.
“Let it (your beauty) be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God.”
Uh huh.
My husband said the other day as we talked about using our talents and spiritual gifts, that there are gifts we have that are natural and we do them without struggle as they are innate for us. But we know a quality is from the Lord when it is most unnatural for our character or abilities. He brings it to us and it points others directly to Him as He’s the one living this gift through us.
Now I know there’s a continuum, and we learn things over the years. That’s true.
But I think about my lack of gentleness, even my own unawareness at times of this lack and it brings me sorrow, for the impact this has had on others and for how long it’s taking to learn.
However, He also tell us that “For godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted; but the sorrow of the world produces death.” (2 Corinthians 7:10 NKJV)
And for this I’m grateful.
I tried for ’round about an hour. Used up all the newspaper and cardboard I could find but it wouldn’t take. Dry wood, open flue, a burn lit and it’d peter out over and over. I’d look back at the stove from my blanket on the sofa, hoping, and just see a dark nothing.
This was a long overdue Sabbath. No one else home but my pup and I. Outside was a litter of white drifting down and covering everything. Just needed a fire to make it all perfect.
But it wouldn’t take.
I lay back down on the couch and said “Fine. Lord if you want there to be a fire, you’ll have to make it (no disrespect intended).”
Next time I looked around, flames!
Seems sometimes that all my efforts and the using up all that fuel is a waste of time. As soon as I gave it to the Lord, there was a sweet burn that lasted all evening.
Rest and ask. Wait and receive, from the hand of the giver of all things.
Start a fire in me Lord, I sing a song I wrote. Start a fire and do your work in all the things I fret about.
Rest and ask. Wait and receive.
Not my work but His.
Amen.
What is your focus as we step through the door into 2023?
May the Lord lead you gently and courageously.
Suppose we peel back all the layers.
Glistening lights
Garlands and gifts
Gingerbread and jolly old men.
*
Imagine all the purchasing and pressure disappear (poof)
And we’re left standing under a black night sky
Vast, velvet, inky darkness above pierced with bright points
And us on the hard earth, fields surrounding, with only the occasional
Bleat.
*
!!!GLORY!!!
Not a silent night but an ear ringing, eye peeling, heart hammering
Beckoning!
*
A newborn cry issues forth
Echoing across the hills
A gusty wail announcing
A Birth
*
Shepherds kneel (and what is kneeling except an expression of great something – worship, wonder, service, amongst other things)
*
What if the plain story pulses with life, still.
Horton like.
“He is here! He is here!”
And when the twinkling, gifting day is over and packed away in boxes,
He is here, still.
And all of the God breathed stars in the expanse above shimmer His-story
Over and over
*
As darkness layers itself, permeates the earth
Across our lands
The announcement still rings.
The invitation echoes on
“…Behold (Look!), I bring you tidings of great joy, which will be to all (yep, that includes you and me) people. For there is born to you today in the city of David (important as prophecy foretold the Messiah would come from the line of David), a Saviour who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger…. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.” Luke 2:10-14 NKJV
Join me in listening to this man explain why the Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger was so important, and why the Shepherds would understand what this meant.
“For unto us a Child is born, Unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6 NKJV
How do I decorate my home
Bright lights
Nativity
Sparkling things
When my heart is littered with residue
Clean out the basement of my soul Lord
As I dig for things stuffed away under the stairs
Open boxes of Christmas memories
Joseph sheltering Mary and the Babe under his protecting arm
Tucked away in special paper
Tuck me away in You
Light my steps with your kind and gracious ways
Rest me from the resentment I carry
My error bleakened heart
Forgive my dismissal of those you’ve given me to love
Fill me afresh with your compassion
Your long, steadfastness
May I receive the Love gift afresh this season
With the sheer astonishment of what this truly is
WHO
This truly is
Asking to take up residence in me yet again and still
May I gladly hold out the gift with unfettered heart
And eyes to see how You do
You, the Light stepping into the midst of the ordinary
Inviting us to see
To see You
Forgiving, saving
Offering Your Life
For us, to us.
Is it possible that when the veritable fire burns, the result is more than, better than, purer than if you had not felt the flames of affliction in the first place?
Is there a choice or is the narrative already written?
Was Judas condemned to his end before he was born? Wicked, selfish betrayer.
Was Joseph, on the other hand graced with optimism such that no matter what circumstances landed on him, he knew how to ride out the storm again and again until he landed at the top of the heap? Faithful visionary.
Is there an agonizing dialogue with affliction, a stepping into the happenstances and reconciling oneself with the opportunities presented? Dark though the opposition may be, is there a moment of death where we acquiesce to the pain and vulnerability, shake off the hinderances and nod a firm yes to the invitation to blaze with the uncommon glory we were handed?
An outraged cry would be expected. Our dreams don’t often materialize the way we expect them to, but are birthed from difficulty, contracting us into repeating patterns of disappointment and dying, inviting us into the yes of a sweeter revelation of our calling or if we refuse, the devastating deconstruction of our possibilities.
Do we have a choice?
I say yes.
Did Judas?
Jesus said it would have been better for him not to have been born. Yet there was a moment when 30 pieces of silver were cast onto the floor at the feet of the satisfied collaborators of Death. Grief! Regret! Horror!
Was there a choice? A blink moment?
I have to believe there was that.
Was Joseph just a pollyanna? Eternal optimist no matter what?
Or did he grip the hand of the One who allowed his catastrophic journey for a greater, future better yes? Did this sustain him through the pit, a violent separation from the father who loved him, through false accusation, prison, years of unexplainable unfairness, until the moment when it all came together, a rushing of time through a vortex to the moment of comprehension?
I have to believe it’s true.
And that we each have that reckoning, every moment.
Darkness or light.
Live or die.
Hate or love.
Create or destroy.
###
I was blessed to hear this brilliant and beautiful violinist with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra last month.
( We heard him play the Sibelius Violin Concerto, but this is my favourite so far.)
Note: References above to Judas and Joseph are regarding the Biblical narrative about Judas’s betrayal of Jesus Christ and subsequent suicide, versus Joseph (son of Jacob) of the infamous coat of many colours story. See Matthew 27:1-5 and Genesis 37, 39-47 NKJV.
perspective 