The workweek greeted me with darkened skies and a rooster’s crow. A night of troubled sleep drew a fog in and around me. Beyond the reach of foreboding trees, whispers of golds and pinks gently pushed blue from the horizon. Taking a deep breath of morning air, I savored the hope of a new day as truth filled my senses.

For since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities – His eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse. Romans 1:20

Inclined to capture the moment on film, a whisper floated across the breeze:

This moment is for you. Even your best attempt would fail to replicate the glory I have placed before your eyes. Brushstrokes of magnificent color, a crisp in the air, a moment of silence. Imprint the experience on the canvas of your heart, for there it will dwell and warm inner spaces.

An artist sees the world through the confines of a lens yet fails to fully grasp the splendor lying beyond the frame.  Even in my desire to share this moment, words fell grossly inadequate. There were pinks and blues.

The morning illuminated the skies, folding clouds into shades of white with cotton candy edges; a reminder to embrace ever changing beauty at each turn.

Engulfed in the flame of a sunrise reflecting off a dirty windshield, the traffic light’s change was unnoticeable, until an adjacent commuter impatiently pounded her horn, frustrated with the extra second we sat at the intersection. Did she not see the brilliance cascaded across our view? Did impatience consume her colors rendering them a lifeless gray?

I’ll admit, I may have joined her quest had my focus not been drawn to the dance of pinks and blues.

As the sun fades into reds and golds, there will be many things that could have and should have been done. This will not change. It is the moments in between that truly matter.

This was my moment. I pray you find yours.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

 

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Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

With a newborn in the house, weary parents persevere through another day, not for some grand, philosophical reward, but because the baby needs them. Things need to be done. “Not becoming weary” falls a bit short when you spend days wondering if the sleepless nights will end. They will, at least until your child drives off to college.

On the other end of life, the same parent who traded sleep for your comfort needs you to return the favor. To make sure they drink enough water or not fall in the night. Devoid of sleep once more, you wonder if the sleepless nights will end. And sadly, they will.

The days in between, spending countless hours in hospital chairs, watching to make sure she’s still breathing. Or flying half-way across the country on a moment’s notice because she needs you there.

“Let us not become weary” isn’t much good when I passed weary three days ago. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. I know because the Bible says it, but even Jesus needed to recharge, and He is God. I am not.

When my eyes are heavy and I find precious moments on a pillow, I pray sleep, even if limited, will be peaceful and restful. Yet more often than not, my mind battles the endeavor.

Jesus spent the last week of His earthly life consumed with what was to come, and my salvation cost Him dearly. Even so, He took time to break bread and wash feet, to show us how. We were not made to face this alone. Jesus gently moves the rocking chair in the nursery, touches her forehead to break a fever, or places a hand on a shoulder as he drifts off to sleep, again. Now, it’s my time to do the same, for there are still feet to wash.

Lord, in this time of rest, whether eyes opened or closed, cover me like a warm blanket. Renew and restore my soul, body, and mind to face the days ahead, for only You know what they hold.

Amen…

 

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And let me know what your think, in what way a story touched your heart. I value your thoughts.

 

Oscar Wilde once challenged the notion of art imitating life, proposing instead that life imitates art. He marveled at how a foggy London sky, unremarkable to most, could transform into a thing of beauty through an artist’s vision. But would a sunrise appear less magnificent if a poet had not described it? Would my wife’s green eyes be less stunning if I never mentioned them in print? Who could even find words to describe such beauty which must be seen to be believed. Life does not imitate art, life is art.

In my own journey as a writer, I have been blessed with moments of clarity, seeing God’s hand in everything. Beauty in creation when I take the time to notice. And when unpleasant, there is a lesson as in “the stove is hot, don’t touch it.” Without a London fog, how could we appreciate the bright Texas sky?

My latest scribbling is a fictional quest of a man seeking his long-lost great-uncle. On the way, he re-ignites his faith and finds more of his uncle in the mirror than he expected.

Certain moments are somewhat auto biographical, and I struggle to make them less so. Yet when I visit that world, I am consumed by the story, and it becomes personal. Experts say it will resonate with the reader, but I seem to be walking the same road as our hero.

On more than one occasion, the chapter I happen to be writing oddly echoes my state of my mind at that very moment. The wisdom he stumbles upon resonates in my heart. God is speaking to me through the very book I am writing. Life imitating art?

In storytelling, when a character addresses the audience directly, it is called “breaking the fourth wall”, like when Ferris Bueller tells the audience “It’s over, go home.” In the same vein, there is a scene where our hero opens a devotional that I had previously written. He says the author (which is me) seems to know his heart, like he’s writing his life as he lives it. Funny, because I “am” writing it. Art imitating life imitating art? Kind of a gray area like that London fog.

The only real truth is we were created in the image of God, and our talents, in whatever form they appear were intentionally infused into our being by His Mighty Hand. Some may use those talents in ways that would appear opposite of God’s intention, but He has granted us free will to choose our own paths.

I have no doubt words flow through my pen only by His Hand that you may hear what He has to say (if I could be so blessed to be entrusted with those words).

Art may imitate life or vice versa, but for me, it is most important that life imitates not only art, but heart, God’s heart. As long as that remains true, all else will fall into place.

 

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Reach out to me at John@LiftedKeys.com and tell me your story. I would love to know where and in what way God has guided His words through my pen.

Momentum in its most scientific sense is a measure of movement, the product of mass and velocity. It is also considered an increase in force created by an object in motion. Picture a stone rolling down a hill. It is much easier to stop it at the top than at the bottom.

Perpetual motion requires a machine that can continue indefinitely on the energy it generates without need of outside force or fuel. Suffering from what I call “Superman syndrome”, I often see myself as such, but like the hypothetical machine, this too is an impossibility.

Your car’s engine turns the generator, creating electricity, which fires the spark plug, igniting the fuel, pushing a piston which turns the crankshaft, which moves the generator and so on. Perpetual right? Except it requires fuel and an initial spark. In days past, an old truck with a dead battery would get a push, gain a bit of speed and we’d pop the clutch to start the same process. The energy of rolling momentum was transferred to the drive shaft making things turn, but it took friends pushing and someone in the driver’s seat steering and popping the clutch.

And fuel, don’t forget the fuel. Good fuel – loving, caring, prayer, scripture and positivity keep the momentum going after we receive a Heavenly shove. And for those who have put gasoline in a diesel engine, you know the opposite is true. Sin, anger, hatred, reliving past failures and negativity bring any forward momentum to a screeching halt.

On the basketball court, momentum is not a scientific calculation, it is purely emotional. A player delivers a thundering dunk, the home crowd goes wild, teammates stand taller, run faster, and shoot better. The opponent’s confidence crumbles and before you know it, the home team has dropped 10 points on you. The most proven way to stop the momentum is to call a time out, sit everyone down and just breathe. Remind them who they are and what got them here. Play to win, not just “not to lose.”

Playing “not to lose” keeps us focused more on not making mistakes and less on seeking victory. And despite our best efforts, we will make mistakes and momentum will turn against us. It’s then we need to stop, listen as our True Coach reminds us of who we are and Who got us here. Start a new momentum in His direction. God calls us to “play to win” not just “not to lose”.

I am truly grateful for friends who push, and push, and push and for He who climbs in the driver’s seat, grabs the wheel, and pops the clutch when my battery is drained.

 

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear.
Reach out to me at John@LiftedKeys.com and tell me your story. I would love to know where and in what way God has guided His words through my pen.

As massive engines thundered beyond my window, runways traveled faster and faster past my limited view, echoing the increased beating of my heart. Rounded walls pressed deeply into my left shoulder as travelers were packaged as tightly as airlines would allow, heightening my aversion to closed-in spaces. Breathing deeply of the canned air, I began a countdown, knowing that in no more than 30 seconds, ninety-five thousand pounds of aluminum, plastic and 200 beating hearts would break the bonds of gravity, laughing at the terra firma below. The rumble of landing gear gave way to smoother air as we continued our ascent. Earthen bound buildings became distant as we left the confines of earth.

As blood pressure and cabin pressure stabilized, my perspective slowed from the elevated vantage point. Familiar highways and intersections began to take shape as the entire city came into focus. I began to recognize familiar buildings, some of which our company had built over the past 25 years. Even the smallest of details came to mind, design elements and particular problems seemed as if it was yesterday.

In my day job, construction drawings float across my desk, two dimensional sketches of dreams yet to be realized. Stepping onto an undeveloped plot, I visualize what and where the building will be. Returning upon completion, I am amazed how closely reality mirrored my vision, but rarely do I get such a view from the sky. What it was, what it has become.

Flying out of Denver, above snow-capped mountains, what I considered my greatest builds pale in comparison to the Handiwork of the Creator in Chief. He saw what it was once, a lifeless blob, and formed it into a majestic masterpiece. What it was, what it has become.

Our lives here are just a breath, a moment, fading like a vapor. Yet just as I remembered the slightest details of a plan from 20+ years ago, in my heart, I know oh too well what I was. Thanks be to God that by His Grace and Mercy, He leads me from the bonds of the earth below, through the clouds to a clear blue sky, a glimpse of who I hope to be. And when I fail, He reaches out and draws me back to Himself. I pray that who I am becoming will be pleasing in His sight and that one day, in the brightest of skies, I will kneel in His presence, a man after His own heart.

 

If these words have been a blessing, reach out to me at John@LiftedKeys.com and tell me your story. I would love to know where and in what way God has guided His words through my pen.

A front-end loader’s bucket has length, width, and depth. Add in a little math with curves and angles, and you find a volume, and that’s what it holds. It can only move so many loads in a day, and that’s all. Mathematicians will tell you if you move 10% faster or put 10% more in the bucket, you will get 10% more done, but sometimes things get in the way, and it doesn’t happen.

We should apply the same logic to our own workday. If you are driving a loader, I just did the math, but at a desk, a task will take a certain amount of time and in the 8 to 5 (or 7 to 7, or 25 or 6 to 4), only so much can get done, and that is all. Those same mathematicians will say if you work just 6 more minutes an hour or become 10% more efficient, you will generate 10% more output, but again, sometimes things get in the way, and it doesn’t happen.

In my line of work, there are hard deadlines, and missed opportunities if they are not met. But sometimes things get in the way, and it doesn’t happen. So why is it so hard to accept? The loader only moves the dirt in the bucket. Who am I to think I can do more? Could I work all hours? Even more than that magic “six minutes”? Perhaps, but at what cost? Does my wife and life pass me by while I chase shiny things? Children grow up way too fast and they’ll never take first steps again.

Our friendly neighborhood front end loader has a certain lifespan, machine-hours until it begins to breakdown. Once broken beyond its usefulness, it is replaced. How much more are we? When cogs in a bigger machine fail to turn, are we not replaced just as easily?

So my heart began to despair over all my toilsome labor under the sun. For a person may labor with wisdom, knowledge and skill, and then they must leave all they own to another who has not toiled for it. This too is meaningless and a great misfortune. What do people get for all the toil and anxious striving with which they labor under the sun? All their days their work is grief and pain; even at night their minds do not rest. This too is meaningless.  Ecclesiastes 2:20-23

Solomon knows me better than I do, but he did not stop in the depths of despair.

To the person who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness, but to the sinner he gives the task of gathering and storing up wealth to hand it over to the one who pleases God…Ecclesiastes 2:26

The Love of God is not measured in length or width or depth. There is no distance that could suffice. Jesus took bread and few fish and fed thousands, with baskets to spare, so when God empties a loader bucket of Grace upon us, know there is always more where that came from, and He teaches us to do the same. He is our never-ending source of grace and forgiveness no matter how many times we pour it all out.

So set your shoulder for the load God leads you to and work hard, for it is pleasing to Him. When the day is done, leave the front-end loader behind and focus on the real work, the kind that truly matters.

 

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Reach out to me at John@LiftedKeys.com and tell me your story. I would love to know where and in what way God has guided His words through my pen.

Shouldering up against a mountain as I had done many times before. Pushing and shoving until I could do no more. Pausing to catch a breath, I checked for progress, but again, no. It had been an exercise in patience, prayer, and faith (or lack thereof). I felt like a young Jedi, standing on my hands lifting small stones while doubting my ability to raise the ship, because “I don’t believe it.” The Master said, “That is why you failed.” Imagine gospel truth coming from a little green puppet to the seats of a 1977 movie theater.

Smaller rocks had shifted, but this mountain pushed back with a vengeance, so I stepped away to gain some perspective. Hearing a rumble over my shoulder, I turned to see the mountain had moved – not by my efforts, but of He who formed the mountains. My widened eyes lifted to the heavens in gratitude and wonder of the miracle before me. Amazement faded as my focus returned to the earth and the chasm left in the mountain’s wake. Excitement of a victory became fear of crossing the freshly cut ravine.

In the presence of a miracle, why am I drawn toward the trouble that lies beyond its shadow? The question itself reveals the answer – “lies”. The Deceiver tears away our focus from the Greatness of God at every opportunity. When the Lord graciously empties a “worry bucket”, it quickly fills with ever-present anxiety and fear of the days to come. “Well, that may have been a neat party trick, but what about all this other stuff?”

On a roller-coaster ride from mountain peak to valley’s depth, the Lord whispered, “Trust Me in this, watch what I will do.” With a fragile breath I replied, “OK”. Fear subsided for a moment but quickly returned. He said again, “Watch what I will do”, and again and again.

Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous be shaken. Psalm 55:22

But I am a bit shaken, so here are my burdens, all too heavy for me to carry. Just know there are more where they came from.

He replied, “I’m a big God, I can handle it. I will raise the road to meet your feet or carry you across the depths. Trust Me.”

But you, God, will bring down the wicked into the pit of decay; the bloodthirsty and deceitful will not live out half their days. But as for me, I trust in you. Psalm 55:23

 

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear. If you would like to read more, follow the link above or email me at John@LiftedKeys.com and we can find a way.

Checking on my father-in-law, getting ready for church, he said, “Oh, I’m ready. Got my fingernails clean and everything.” His generation would bathe on Saturday and get to town for Sunday services. Now, my mother would not agree, but dirty fingernails are a good thing. It means you got something done, or at least were outside playing in the dirt.

Take for instance the late country singer K.T Oslin, who always wore gloves on stage. It wasn’t a mere fashion statement as much as she loved to work in her garden and her nails showed it. There is value in sinking your fingers in the dirt and making things grow.

I always thought wielding a shovel or post hole digger was just a means to an end, to finish a chore and “build character” as my father would say. And as usual, he was right, but this bit of wisdom did not kick in until I left college.

Despite my aspiration of making a company run, I exchanged a freshly minted diploma for my first job, as a glorified concrete shoveler. My boss had been in the dirt business before dirt was invented and he quickly proved I knew nothing. Years of pushing a shovel in the Texas heat made me reassess my career path. Eventually, I found myself in an air-conditioned office, reading plans and moving “virtual” dirt, but it took a lot of dirty fingernails to get me to this place, so I am grateful. I escaped the heat but missed the hands-on work and the satisfaction of a dirty job done well.

When I step away from my computer, there are projects that require sweat, busted knuckles and dirty fingernails. I have found in these times; old fashioned elbow grease allows room for my brain to ponder and listen for God’s voice in the midst of the dirt. Something about being knee deep into nature “grounds” me, pun certainly intended.

God is in all things, but I seem to find Him more in backyard dirt. Funny thing since I move dirt for a living.

So, before you clean your fingernails for church, think back on the dirt and how it got there. And be grateful.

 

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear.
Reach out to me at John@LiftedKeys.com and tell me your story. I would love to know where and in what way God has guided His words through my pen.

Check out the audio version of this story at the Podcast

If you like to turn a real page like I do, pick up a copy of Echoes Intertwined or my latest collection, Strings Interwoven. Available at Amazon in print and eBook. Kindly leave a review if you would. I appreciate your comments.

The Holy Spirit revealed to Simeon he would see the Messiah in his lifetime. Although uncertain about how Christ would appear, I doubt he expected an infant. However, when Joseph and Mary presented their new Son in the temple, something changed. Whether it was a radiant glow, or his heart pounded, we don’t know, but Simeon did. He cradled Jesus in his arms and said,

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you may now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.” Luke 2:29-32

In that moment, something changed.

Jesus and John the Baptist were family, not cousins in the current sense of the word, but relatives. It’s possible they grew up together, played together and probably fought with each other. I mean, Jesus did know “all” the answers in school.

When John was baptizing in the Jordan River, he  … saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! John 1:29

John said he didn’t know Him, but when the Spirit rested on Jesus, there was no doubt. Just as Simeon did not expect an infant, John probably did not expect his cousin, but there He was.

John said, … “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” Jesus replied, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented. Matthew 3:13-15

Jesus said it had to be that way. A few years later, Jesus knelt to wash the feet of His disciples and Peter protested: … “you shall never wash my feet. Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” John 13:8

Again, Jesus said it had to be that way. I don’t understand why we face pain, illness, and earthly death. We live in a broken world and God could rescue us in an instant, but sometimes, it just has to be that way. Without experiencing darkness, how would we recognize light? Without sin, how would we understand forgiveness? If we were perfect, we would not need a Savior, but we do.

Lord, I need to be baptized by You and You should never wash my feet. But Jesus says, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” Then, Lord, not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!

 

If you like to turn a real page like I do, pick up a copy of Echoes Intertwined or Strings Interwoven. Available at Amazon in print and eBook. Kindly leave a review if you would. I appreciate your comments.

Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus, often takes a backseat in the Christmas story, a supporting actor alongside donkeys and camels in the nativity scene. However, his role was far more significant than it may seem. Described as a “righteous man,” the Hebrew words suggests not just morality, but someone deeply devoted to studying and faithfully following the law. Joseph possessed the intelligence and strength necessary for the challenge ahead.

When Joseph discovered Mary was pregnant, he was fully within the law of the time to divorce and even stone her. But “being a just man and not willing to make her a public example, he was minded to put her away privately.” Matthew 1:19

But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. And she shall bring forth a Son, and thou shalt call His name Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins” Matthew 1:20-21

Joseph obeyed the angel’s guidance, grappling with feelings of inadequacy and the daunting task of raising a child not his own, let alone the Son of God. It was undoubtedly a tremendous leap of faith, or the shock of seeing and angel, or a little of both.

I don’t know what it is like to care for a child not my own. We have been entrusted with a carload of kids on the way to a game, or band contest, or off to the local burger joint, but not to raise as our own. There are earthly angels who foster and adopt children who may relate more closely to what Joseph was going through.

I wonder what Joseph was feeling as he watched Jesus grow and become less of his little boy and more of what God had called him to be. As I pondered these thoughts, I got a glimpse.

Our daughter went to college with a plan, play basketball, and teach kids how to love the game. Life took an unexpected turn, and she hung up her sneakers, joined the choir and found her love of music again. Struggling with changing her major, her pastor said her training and dedication was not limited to just sports, it would benefit any venture. So, off she went, pursuing music with the tenacity and passion she left on the basketball court. No surprise there, at least until her first recital. She stepped onto the stage and this stunning soprano voice emerged. Reaching for her clarinet, she delivered an equally beautiful piece of music.

It was then it hit me. This child was ours only for a little while but was quickly becoming her own, the masterpiece God had made her to be. He has always put her in the right place at the right time and I can see His hand in everything she does. I imagine that’s how Joseph felt.

Love them, watch them grow, teach all you can and let God handle the rest.

Reach out to me at John@LiftedKeys.com and tell me your story. I would love to know where and in what way God has guided His words through my pen.
If you like to turn a real page like I do, pick up a copy of Echoes Intertwined or my latest collection, Strings Interwoven. Available at Amazon in print and eBook. Kindly leave a review if you would. I appreciate your comments.