A long weekend of getting done what needed doing left me worn out, but not enough to keep me from hitting the weights long before the sun even thought about rising. It started well, all the body parts were moving in the right direction, or pretending to, until my shoulders reminded me, I’m not 18 anymore. Those a little closer to that age seemed to breeze through the exercises, but old wounds broke through the cracks in my armor.

Football in my teens, taekwondo in my forties, or six decades of wear and tear have left their mark. The only way to get through was to push through, but at some point, there was no more push.

Old wounds.

In my exhaustion, my mind wandered past the need to breathe… to older wounds, forgiven but not forgotten, peering through the cracks of my memories. Things I’d left far behind, or so I thought. This is usually when my heart tailspins into dark places I struggle to stay out of.

But just as I kept heaving chunks of iron overhead, my mind pressed memories back as well. Each rep was like past failures piling up, daring to reappear and take hold.

I took a deep breath, arms outstretched, praying the Lord would be my strength. Shoulders still hurt. My heart still hurt. But We made it through.

Ice and ibuprofen may ease the muscles, but there is no pill for the heart. Then the Lord whispered:

The failures, the pain, the burdens.
You surrendered them to Me long ago.
There’s no need for you to take them back.
My shoulders never tire.
You could never give Me more than I could carry.

I love you way too much.

A deep breath and all that remained was memories, and the aches of the morning.

New wounds will heal.
Old wounds will heal in time.

Lord, I’m grateful that You carry me through them all.

Cookies. We love ‘em. We all know their names. And whatever your treat of choice, you’ve seen it, at the end of the grocery isle, eye level, in a bright package.

I know a guy whose job was to put wonderful things there. When they rearrange groceries shelves, it’s as much getting you in front of it as making you search a little longer, so you’ll find whatever else they put at the ends. He would never admit to it, but I have my suspicions.

Milk. Eggs. Butter. I didn’t come for cookies, but there they are. Quiet. Familiar. Even friendly. A moment, a glance, a scent of something sweet. Not quite wrong, but not right either.

I tell myself I’m not there for that.
I’m just passing through.
But I linger.

I don’t pick it up. I just read the box, remember and wonder if they are still as sweet.

A soft thread of curiosity pulls a little tighter.
Shadows shift, ever so slightly.

I used to think temptation was avoiding something obvious, but now I know it’s standing a little too long in the aisle. They say never go shopping when you’re hungry, or tired, or both. You might end up with a basket full of things you don’t need.

I turned away.
Not out of fear or shame.
I just know the aisle.

I know how innocent things grow heavy in the quiet. And how my heart doesn’t jump in, it drifts.

So, I choose distance over indulgence. There’s a big difference between strength and being just close enough not to fall.

Jesus didn’t avoid temptation; He spoke Truth to it. He was hungry, he was tired, and the tempter challenged Him to turn stones into bread.

Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” … “Away from me Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve Him only.’” Matthew 4:4, 4:10

The cookies were still there, just not quite as shiny.

But He said to me, “My Grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness” …  2nd Corinthians 12:9

Well, it must be getting close to perfection on my account.

It’s not the cookie’s fault, or the one who put it there. It’s lingering long enough to wonder if I can afford the calories.

Spoiler alert. I can’t.

 

Lord, please guard my heart. Not because it’s failed over and over, but because You say it’s worth protecting.

Amen …

Considering the horrific floods and loss of life that has decimated Central Texas this summer, scripture came to mind.

The disciples asked Jesus for signs of the end of the age.

Jesus answered: “Watch out that no one deceives you. For many will come in My Name, claiming, ‘I am the Messiah,’ and will deceive many. You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places. All these are the beginning of birth pains. Matthew 24:4-8

Disasters and wars greater than these have come and gone for thousands of years, and in each, they have said, “Surely, this is the end of the age.”

And it could have been, but it wasn’t.

Even today, we could say the same thing, and it could happen this very moment…

If you are still reading this, it did not, but it could have. Only the Father knows the day and hour.

Oswald Chambers wrote (in My Utmost for His Highest – Jan 25)
We plan and figure and predict that this or that will happen, but we forget to make room for God to come in as He chooses… He may break in at any moment. We tend to overlook this element of surprise, yet God never works in any other way.

There were blessings that came in ways I could never have imagined. And who am I anyway, to think I could shape what God can do, or dictate when. Even the smallest of details bow to His will, in the time and place of His choosing.

Today, my schedule had filled far beyond my capabilities, which usually brings my overwhelmed thoughts to a screeching halt.

Oswald Chambers continued:
Keep your life so constantly in touch with God that His surprising power can break through at any point. Live in a constant state of expectancy, and leave room for God to come in as He decides.

God encouraged me to take another step, and I pressed on through the task at hand. Suddenly, schedules began to change, doors began to open, the path became clear once more.

God is great like that.

 

“If you try to control time, time will control you. The sun rises and sets at the Lord’s bidding. Time is His.”
– from the upcoming novel As Water Slept – Unscheduled Grace – by yours truly.

I reached a milestone recently, the back cover of my first journal. There are others, scattered in various places, waiting for the Lord to whisper. But this was my first.

Seven years’ worth.

Seven.
Completion.
Sacred – as in the Sabbath.

Seven.
Jacob labored seven years to marry Rachel (only to be deceived and forced to work another seven). I’ve been at it 38, but my father-in-law conveniently forgets the Jacob story.

Seven years of the same frustrations, prayers for strength, hope for days to come. Some have been answered with blessings beyond measure, others ran off the rails in ways I could not have imagined. But in each, the hand of God was ever present, calling me closer.

We are witnesses of everything He (Jesus) did in the country of the Jews and in Jerusalem. They killed Him by hanging Him on a cross, but God raised Him from the dead on the third day and caused Him to be seen. He was not seen by all the people, but by witnesses whom God had already chosen … Acts 10:39-41

… and caused Him to be seen.

My scribbles have been caused to be much more than a creative exercise or blowing off steam. Learning to listen allows God to speak to me, to you, and whoever else stumbles across these pages.

A website, a handful of books in print and a few more on the way were not by accident, nor by my doing. They were caused to be so that Jesus may be seen by those He so chooses, and that the Lord would be Glorified.

This journey I’ve been on causes Him to be seen. (Okay, not always, but I’m trying).

A word of hope, when I had no idea how badly you needed it.
A hug, a smile, a please, or a thank you.
Or simply holding open the door to let you through.

Everything we do in love and kindness causes Him to be seen.

 

Father,
When the earth was without form, You caused light to be.
When we were lost in sin, You sent your Son to take our place, and our punishment. You raised Him on the third day and caused Him to be seen.
When we do not understand, You send Your Spirit to guide us, to open our eyes and cause us to see, if only but a glimpse.
Even today, You caused the sun to rise – to peer through the window – to remind me of all You still cause to be.

Lord, I am grateful.

 

Blessed is the King who comes in the Name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”
“I tell you,” He replied, “if they kept quiet, the stones would cry out. Luke 19:38-40

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results – Albert Einstein

I needed different.

The day had been a mess. My heart was heavy with more concerns than I could carry. Even laying them at the feet of Jesus didn’t seem to lift the burden.

Jesus said, “There is so much more I want to tell you, but you can’t bear it now.” John 16:12 NLT

I have no doubt there was much more and He took the lion’s share. That is who He is, and I am grateful.

Still, neither my mind, nor heart, was not prepared for the path ahead.

I struggled with each step, greasing the squeakiest wheel, until the day was done, collapsing on my pillow.

The rooster crowed way too early, and the temptation to grab a few more minutes of sleep was strong. But an extra minute easily becomes ten, then twenty, then I’m rushing to not be late, again.

Same effort, same result.

I needed different.

Shoving my feet into running shoes, I headed out to start the morning early. Our trainer said, “Get your head right. Get to the line.” If you read that with some remnant of a coach’s voice, then you know what it means.

My head was not right, neither was my heart — not because of some unrepented sin, just prayers that felt empty, lifeless, like the strides I was taking. Yet, I continued.

I needed different.

I sat down for a quick breakfast and pulled out the chair to my right, inviting Jesus to join me. We spoke of the failure I had felt.

He said,
Prayers were answered.
Miracles unfolded.
Even the meetings you were dragged into showed signs of promise.

I was too caught up in my own pity to see. The day wasn’t a mess at all. It was a win, all around. Not mine, or mine alone, but His, that He would be glorified.

It’s what I prayed for, so why didn’t I see it?”

My heart was not right. I needed different.

Jesus said, “Follow Me.”

No sugarcoated verse on a pretty background, no theological argument or grand declaration.

Just … Follow Me.

The noise faded, falling to each side as the path became clear.
A purpose.
A goal.
To follow Him.

It may seem foolish to the world around me,

But it’s the different I need.

I was a thousand miles away and couldn’t be there. An outpatient, routine procedure. Happens every day. There was no need to fly halfway across the country for a thirty-minute hospital stay. And I wasn’t there.

I’m always there – but not this time.

I spent the entire day watching the clock, calculating time zone differences … waiting.

The closer the scheduled time approached, the greater my anxiety, knowing I was 8-10 hours away at best.

Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?  Matthew 6:27

No, but I assure you, this day felt like it had shaved a few off. Either that or turned a few more hairs gray.

I had always been there, to make sure, to fix things. Today, all I had was prayers.

Lord, I know You are in control whether I’m there or not, whether I pray or not. It’s who You are.
You’ve said, “This is the healing you’ve been praying for.”
Hold her closely today, and every day after. Hold us all.

The day dragged on, each minute – an eternity. One hour, two hours, three hours, four hours. My mind spiraled with thoughts of what went wrong and how fast can I book a flight.

 

Lord, You tell me not to worry, but .. I’m getting worried.

In that very moment, my phone rang.
It’s done.
Everything went well.
There was just a delay in getting started.

Now breathe.

Lord, You are always faithful, especially when my doubt takes hold. I give you thanks and all the praise for the miracles You have in store, even when I’m not patient enough to wait.

Go hard or go home. Leave it on the court. We’ve all heard it. Push as hard as you can, then push again, go until you can go no more, then take another step.

I’d reached my breaking point, the tank was empty. No more I’ve got a few miles left in me. I was done.

They always say you have one more in you, one more, then one more, then one more, until there are no more. One more rep, one more step, one more prayer.

 

I took a long walk.

The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

 

No surprise, the scripture that came to mind was what Jesus told His disciples when He asked them to watch and pray but found them asleep.

Then He returned to His disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you me keep watch with me for one hour?” He asked Peter. “Watch and pray so you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Matthew 26:40-41

An hour? An hour?

I couldn’t manage fifteen minutes in a dark hospital room watching her breathe. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was so weak.

 

As my walk turned a quiet corner, I cried, “It’s all I’ve got.” Little did I know I was feeling more than push-ups and sit-ups (or the lack thereof).

A warm breeze brushed my face with a whisper:

All you have is all I ask.

And I’m broken, again.

My pride, my supposed strength and understanding, rolling down my cheeks along with the sweat.

 

Lord, it’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got. And You know what You’re getting, You made me.

 

It is said when you push yourself beyond your capability, it takes time to heal, and it won’t be as hard next time.

But I have to heal first to see.

 

Lord, hold me up until then.

Visiting our daughter in Seattle, I marveled at the abundance of purple in her life. Hair, hearing aids, wheelchair, blankets, backpacks and a strange little stuffed animal, a baby ostrich with purple fluffs.

Purple has always been her color of choice, the one that caught her eye. And if it had sparkles? Oh yeah.

Bright pinks and greens have had their opportunity to shine, but there was always purple.

Deep maroons adorned various basketball uniforms and headbands, both high school and college, like the blood that surged through the heart of a warrior, a champion. But then, there was purple.

When the crayon wore out, was broken or lost, it took a mixture of red and blue, a little extra work, but certainly worth the effort.

Reds can be hot like anger, or bright embers in the fireplace, passionate like lipstick or a single long-stemmed rose. Blues can be cold like winter skies, deep like a sapphire still holding ancient mysteries, or calm like Caribbean waters gently rolling onto white sand.

But purple? It’s a wonderful mixture of both, not lukewarm middle ground, but intensity in all shades of the spectrum.

Purple is life.

Those who embrace it revel in the whimsy of creativity, the freedom of not being confined in a box of reds or blues, embracing all the colors of a prism. They see the world as it truly is, intentional brushstrokes of the Almighty into the splendor we too often overlook.

My world is rigidly black or white and I question the grays. But in this world of reds and blues, there is purple, the best of both (or the worse).

Traditionally, purple represented royalty or kingship. Purples were very expensive textiles reserved only for the select few.

The Passion and Precious Blood of Jesus ran red. Heaven and His Divinity are blue, as in a clear sky. Purple was the robe they put on Jesus to mock Him, but their adornment was truer than they could’ve imagined. Though meant to ridicule, they placed a kingly robe and a crown (even of thorns) on THE KING.

Purple is the bridge between earth and heaven, offered to all, reserved for the select few who choose to follow. It was the most expensive, costing Jesus all He was on this side of heaven.

We should embrace the purples in our lives, the lavender, the lilac, the violet, and every shade in between.

And embrace the purple of royalty, being children of God, the one true and Almighty King.

May His Name be forever praised.

Amen …

Sunday morning found me in the fifth pew, struggling to find some sense of focus, some sense of peace. My heart was heavy with the burden of upcoming battles. Bread and wine filled cracks in my soul, but words passed by my ears like I’d heard them a thousand times. A parable I wasn’t familiar with caught my ear, but I faded off on a tangent, connecting dots in need of more study. A story for another day. But not today.

I was there, but not really there, seeking answers to questions I didn’t know how to ask. Then through the clouds between my ears, a whisper floated by.

Be still. Be open. Listen.

Spoken prayers faded as they had a hundred times before, until two words struck me … Gentle Healer. I didn’t recall hearing these words before and I wondered if they were really said, but I did hear them. Then came God of Abundance. I left church still a bit numb, but those five words echoed in my heart.

God of Abundant, Gentle Healing.

It was like a warm hug, two strong Arms lifting me back to my feet.

Reading through the eighth chapter of Luke, my eyes glazed over the familiar story of the woman healed by touching Jesus’ garment and of the little girl He “awakened.” Glancing back at the page, the red letters stood above the others.

 

“Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed.”

But He took her by the hand and said, “My child, get up!”

Then He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.” Luke 8:48, 50, 54

God of Abundant, Gentle Healing.   Indeed.

I don’t know what the next few weeks will hold but I know the One who does. And He knows me.

But now, this is what the Lord says – He Who created you, Jacob, He Who formed you, Israel: “Do not fear for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, the flame shall not consume you.” Isaiah 43:1-2

 

God of Abundance. Gentle Healer. You alone are worthy of praise. I thank You for the miracles in my life and the miracles to come. Surround us with Your Grace and Mercy. Be our strength.

Amen …