reflections...in the water on a summer morn

out early to catch the fish,

in search of the big one,

a fish tale that will be told

night after night

when winter stretches out.....

in the stillness of the world not yet waking the creation stirs. praises. awakens. celebrates. revives. calls us.

Don't miss God's hand at work.

Stop. Listen. Watch. Pray. Pay attention.

God is Here. He is among us.

The Kingdom is now.

Do you want to see God?

Look at His creation; the brushstroked brilliance of the morning sunrise...on the wings of the dawn He is there.

Do you want to know Him?

Read His words. Understand His laws. Meditate on His commands.

Do you want to experience Him?

Observe His people. His Holy bride.

Go. Learn. Serve. Do.

And God's face will be reflected.

and even the reflection of His Glory will be more brilliant than we can handle.

the hating

at first, it's hard to hate, I think.

I want to love and be loved. To be liked and to like others. I want to get along with everyone. To be in harmony, live in unity, be a community among others.

But then the hating comes. At first, it's a difference of idea. Or it's an attitude of self importance. "He thinks he's better than me." "She always has to be right." The comparison begins and I find myself lacking. Inferior. I hate that. So I hate back.

And then, like second nature, hate begins to fill and seeks to destroy.

Eustace Clarence Scrubb was like that. He was miss understood, he was self important, he was self centered, he was selfish. He wanted only what he wanted. He didn't care about others; what they wanted or liked or cared about. And that hating lead to the transformation into a dragon. The tale is told in the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. It's pretty amazing. And only Aslan, the Jesus-Hero of the story can change him back.

When I go down the path of hate, only God can change my heart back. I was born a sinner. I will be a sinner. My only hope is in Jesus Christ saving me from myself.

more questions than answers

In Mark 9:29, Jesus teaches that some illness can only be healed by prayer. In prayer, I asked my Lord to bring healing to my daughter. She suffers from asthma, she's on a mission trip, in a hot-smog-filled-place and she is having a difficult time breathing.

"God, will you heal her?"

"By faith, through prayer, why won't you heal her?"

In response, within my spirit, I hear Proverbs 3:5-7. God asks me,

"will you trust me, daughter?",

"will you acknowledge my ways?",

"will you allow me to direct your path?

"At what cost, Lord?" I wonder. Your way seems much more difficult. Just carry her through this trip. Bring relief so she can be a part of your team, ministering to children who are lost, show your glory and increase the faith of the team. How's my solution, Lord? Pretty good, right?

My ways. My paths.

And so the teams pray: the team my daughter is surrounded by. The team in another country prays. Abi's name is lifted up.

And then the solution comes. $12 later, Abi's flight is rebooked. She will fly alone; two flights, a connection in another state, and then she will be home.

"Really, Lord?"

But the way is difficult. She is too young. Trust in my ways.

She is afraid, Lord. She gets lost easily. Lean not on your own understanding.

What if something happens to her? Acknowledge me and my power and my provision.

I release her into your care.

You ways are beyond mine.

Your paths not the ones I would build.

I acknowledge You.

Be glorified.

faith to believe and strength to obey

God calls us to believe. God calls us to obey.

Faith to believe that He can heal, He can deliver, He can restore, He can forgive.

Faith to believe He will heal, He will deliver, He will restore, He will forgive.

Faith that says I will follow, though I do not see.

Faith that says I will go, though I do not know where.

Faith that says I will do, even when I don't understand.

Strength to obey. Obey when the directions don't make sense, when the idea seems ludicrous, when the concept seems foreign, when the path is debris filled.

Strength to obey when it would be social suicide, leadership dangerous, risk-filled.

Strength to obey when it is darkest night, loudest chaos, and most painful.

Strength to obey when weakness abounds, and weariness prevails.

God calls us to believe and obey.

in a garden

all the good stuff happens in the garden; the most poignant, most dramatic, most beautiful moments happen in a garden. Love, betrayal, healing...

consider creation of humanity; it occurred in the garden of Eden. Man was created; chiseled and muscular, handsome features, full of life and strength, with mission and purpose, Adam began. And then woman; Eve, soft and supple, beautiful, with long flowing hair, sparkling eyes, and lips that begged to be kissed. Love was made in a garden.

consider Solomon's passion for love, his description of his lover likened to a garden. A place of delight, of joy...." my lover has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to browse in the gardens and to gather lilies." Song of Songs 6:2.

consider Jesus' most human of moments, prostrate in prayer, anguishing that the bitter cup of crucification would be taken from him, was in the garden of Gethsemane, a place he knew well, a place of prayer. A garden, cool and still in the thick of night, shrouded in darkness, this was the place Jesus visited. And with a kiss, Jesus was betrayed in the garden, and led to death on the cross.

consider the new heaven and the new earth; a place where a "on each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding it's fruit each month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations." Rev. 22: 2

there was a moment when I sat at the door of my 18 month old son's bedroom, watching, protecting, policing him. He was transitioning from sleeping in a crib into a big boy bed and he didn't like it at all. A nightly battle of wills began, where I'd tuck him in, pray, and then turn out the light, only to hear his bare feet padding across the room. I'd trudge back into his room, urging him back into bed, scolding and reminding him of his new bed. This would repeat until I'd sit at the door, on the floor, in the hallway, staring him down. Night after night, until finally, he'd connect that his new bed truly was his big boy bed, connect that I was truly serious about his requirement to sleep in the new big boy bed.

I'm hear again, years later, pondering about that moment. Remembering my tough, strict stance, policing and protecting, training and instilling a value. Only it's not about a new bed. It's bigger, more lethal, and much more troubling.

How did I get here? What do I do? He's too big to stare down, too strong to force my way...and yet he's still a fragile child who needs to be shown the right path.

Hopes and dreams meld into day to day drudgery, aspirations collide with the mechanics of hard work. There are no guarantees, only the promise of what we hope for. How do I point him in that direction? How do I encourage the passion of the journey rather than the results, the poignancy of the process, and the not success?

dust off my faith

dust off my faith,

take it down from the shelf,

open the book,

and read.

shake of my worry,

loosen the restraints,

pour out the stagnant,

and breathe in new air.

hour by hour,

sunrise by sunset,

the One who calls,

is near.

breathe in new air,

watch closely,

observe and listen and wonder and dream and hope and believe.

yes, always believe.