Song of My Heart's Devotion

a place by Me

"Then the LORD said, "Behold, there is a place by Me,

and you shall stand there on the rock;

and it will come about, while My glory is passing by,

that I will put you in the cleft of the rock

and cover you with My hand until I have passed by.…" Exodus 33:21-22

Some of us understand what it means to be invited to a place by God, and not want to go. Because that place next to Him is reached through a trial that makes our knees quake and our courage quiver. Because we KNOW, that this is an incredible privilege that will come with incredible responsibility, and we're not sure we're ready for it.

We want to go stand on that rock and see a glimpse of Who God is and what He is doing. But the journey to that place is sometimes full of pain, of pangs of loss, of prying-aparts and letting go's.And so even though we know it will be worth it all when we see Christ, we still hang back. We still hesitate. 

A few years ago a charismatic church in our town had a big banner up on the side of their building. It was there easily six months or more. It said, "Yes, Lord, we will ride with You!" and to this day, I have no idea what it meant to them or what the biblical context was, if any, of the obscure saying. If I didn't, I'm quite sure none of the unbelievers in the community did either (which brings up an interesting side point about the arcane language believers use when they are speaking to people with little or no Bible knowledge.)

To be totally honest, my husband and I thought it was hilarious. It became a little catch-phrase in our house ("Yes, Mike, I WILL ride with you!") and it continued to elicit an internal giggle every time we drove past. Eventually they took it down and that was that.

Their enthusiasm has stayed with me, however. Whatever they were committing to, they were doing it in a public way. They were all in. No holds barred. Big banners like that don't come cheap, you know. I don't know how many of them actually did ride with the Lord, but they said they would, and I'm sure at least some of them really truly meant it.

So I think about that now, all these years later, and wonder if I'm the sort who immediately jumps on the pony and says, "I'm ready! Let's ride, Lord!" or if I'm the person who organizes the riding party, orders the banner, makes sure someone is signed up to bring bottled water, and plans the luncheon afterwards. 

Maybe I'm the jaded one who thinks back to the ride we organized last year, and don't we all remember what a disaster that was. "I'm in, but put a different person in charge this time, and can we PLEASE not sing "Kum bye yah" along the trail EVER again?"

Maybe I'm more often the one who secretly dislikes the idea from the start, because let's face it, trail-riding, even with the Lord and a sure-footed cow-pony, is a painful proposition and the effect on the old derriere can last for days afterwards. It's way out of my comfort zone. I know, I know, the view from the top is amazing, yadda yadda.

I want to be the one who grabs the nearest pony and takes off after the Lord as He leads me to that place by him. I want to be the one who doesn't think about all the snaring branches, hidden holes, treacherous climbs and loose gravel along that path. I want to be the one who doesn't think first about the cost to my aging knees (I'm not even forty yet but my body hates me already, I swear) or how long the trip is going to take. The one who doesn't privately, secretly, never-gonna-admit-it-ever, wonders if the view from the top really IS worth it.

There is a place by You. I know that because I catch glimpses of it whenever I allow myself to see You at work, Your mercies overflowing, overwhelming, always right there just simmering under the surface of my life. All I have to do is open my stubborn eyelids or open Your Word and there You are. And I know in my heart that to be in that place is the best, the only place there ever will be where it IS worth it all.

Our good, good Father, thank You for the invitation to come to that place by You. The breath-takingly gracious place where we are so close to You and so in tune with Your Heart that we catch glimpses of Your infinite glory and it changes us forever. Forgive us for our wrong responses to that invitation, forgive us for rejecting the mercy that extends it. Our frightened reactions to the opportunity offered us would never happen if we truly understood Who You are. Your lovingkindness is better than life. Lead us to that place by You, not for our own sake, but for Your Glory, we pray. Amen.

 

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a sweet, sweet place

Clinging to the cross. Such a sweet, sweet place to be. Why do I ever get up and move away? It is not the cross that moves; it is me.

I am at peace when I am here at the base. I am not only quieted and calmed, but simultaneously seized with joy. Better than any caffeine rush in the world is the exhilarating knowledge that I am His and He is mine.

Both of those facts blow.my.mind.

"I am His." That one, I can believe. It's not a concept that seems far-fetched, that a human mortal should devote themselves, give themselves wholly over to something or someone. In fact, Romans tells us it's the only reasonable, logical thing to do when faced the the presence of an Almighty Creator.

But the other one. "He is mine." Wow.

That one is unfathomably foreign, a concept so out there that it is completely unique in the world. That there the Creator of the universe has a personal interest in me--no other religion delivers a god who cares. That the same Almighty God belongs to me, longs for me, not only went to unthinkable lengths to redeem me and pay for my sins so I wouldn't have to, but gave us a precious, personal Book with His thoughts and plan laid out so that we would KNOW that He wanted a relationship with us; wow.

For some reason, it's hard to live in a sustained state of that ecstatic closeness. I don't know; maybe it's because it would blow our little human brains to remain in that sort of intensity for long. For whatever reason, we lose the spark so quickly. We shift apart and shuffle away. We remember how great it feels to be close to our Father, but the memory is fuzzy around the edges and we cannot reclaim that incredible sense of right-ness that we felt.

It was SO good. And now it's just good. And in a little while, the memory is so fuzzy I'm back to where I don't remember anymore what a sweet, sweet place it is. Was it good? I'm sure it was. But so's whatever thing I've turned aside to see. That has my attention now.

Six weeks, six months, six years later....I have forgotten, but You have not. And the Love that will not let me go begins the working, once again.

How long will it be before You have to turn me around and lead me back to the foot of the cross?

What will You use to get my attention? What have I put in jeopardy by wandering?

Father God, Who in mercy sent His precious and only Child into a lost and ungrateful world, I cannot thank You enough for the act of redemption and the abundant life it made possible. I do not deserve the relationship You offer us, but I humbly ask that You would continue to draw me ever nearer. Increasingly closer to You, at the foot of the cross there are lives that cannot help being changed, testimonies of grace that can never be silenced, songs that cannot but be sung. You are ours; we are Yours.

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an embrace that never ends

I am not the first person to fall to her knees in a waiting room.

Sick with dread, awash in anxiety, unable to concentrate.

Incapable even of forming prayer beyond the opening phrase, "O, God..."

O, God! Hear my voice through the rising hysteria and the dreadful fear as Your child gropes for and clings to You as she has been lovingly taught to do. The Love that will not let me go clings back in an embrace that will never end as I sob like the heartbroken little girl that I am. 

O, God, our Help in ages past,

Our Hope for years to come;

Our Shelter from the stormy blast,

and our eternal Home.

Oh, child. God has already seen your future. He has already caught your tears, already pulled you into His arms and let you exhaust your sobs on His shoulder.

Knowing there is not a disaster, a diagnosis or verdict headed your way that will ever surprise Him does not mean we will never feel fear. But if you believe He is Who he says He is, then you must believe that He is omniscient. All-knowing.

Knowing your tears will be dried by the Comforter Himself does not mean they will not fall when we set out on our journey through the valley of grief. But if you believe He is Who He says He is, then you must believe that He is omnipresent. Always-there. 

Knowing that the One Who claims the power to work all things together for good does not mean we will not have to experience doubt that anything can ever, ever possibly make this right. But if you believe He is Who He says He is, then you must believe that He is omnipotent. All-powerful.

That is the One on Whom my salvation rests.

It's clear that I trust Him for that eternal security, but not for the problems of my daily life. Not for that pain from my past. Not for my financial needs. Not for my family's health. Not for... the list goes on. I believe He is strong enough to save, but not strong enough for this particular situation, or that painful subject.

On the floor of that waiting room... in the foyer outside that courtroom... at the side of that fresh grave... all this distrust and with-holding melts away. Instinctively, like a child, we reach for the embrace of the Eternal One.

And we always, always find Him there.

O God! How many times You have showed us Your mercy. How many times You have proven that underneath are the Everlasting Arms, and still Your anxious child asks for more reassurance. Never turned away, never impatiently reproved. Never, not once sent away empty and hopeless, no matter how many times the lesson must be learned. Teach us to trust that You are everything You claimed to be plus more that we cannot even comprehend. For Your glory alone, grant us victorious lives of faith, led close to the foot of the cross.

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bouncing off the backstop

Sometimes life throws you a curveball.

And sometimes, it throws you a fast ball that clips you on the ear as it whizzes past your head and then flattens you from behind as it ricochets off the backstop.

Like a malfunctioning practice pitching machine, the balls keep coming, one after the other, far too fast to swing, far beyond our ability to even hit a single, let alone knock it out of the park. No time to recover between pitches. An endless supply of cosmic complications to hurl.

Sometimes we just don't even know how to pray about it.

So many times I have started off with, "Father..." and my voice fades out on a big sigh as I am overwhelmed with the utter helplessness of the whole thing.

But my helplessness is not hopelessness... and You have told us in Your Word that You know what I am praying even when I do not know myself. Your Spirit intercedes for me when I cannot find the words or even frame the thoughts.

"In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words; and He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God." Romans 8:26-27

Groanings which cannot be uttered, the King James puts it. Prayers that are too deep for words, that go beyond words, that are outside of words.

The Word which was God, in the beginning with God, wordless... mind-blowing.

And yet, utterly understandable. Because I've been there, praying with every fiber of my being, yet completely wordless. Unable to form sentences or even thoughts.

Every tear a leaked prayer my body does not know how to express any other way.

Nothing but me and God and the stillness and the Spirit.

If you've ever been flattened by one of life's fastballs...you know exactly what I mean.

So, beloved Savior, I'm asking you to take my fragmented prayers to the Father on behalf of my fast-ball-flattened friends today. You will perform it, I know, because You promised it, and Your Word says You change not.

And You will intercede, because You love me with an intense ferociousness in spite of the frail humanity that You foresaw and understood with a Creator's intuition, knowing I would need the Spirit's help to call out to my Father. Thank You for that. Thank You, God. May the sheer mercy of it never fail to provoke profound gratitude.

Creating isn't just for crafters

I love the word "create." Teaching women to be creative with papercrafts is my "other" full time job--the one that doesn't involve taxiing the children, searching for lost socks, and whipping up a five-course dinner. (Just kidding about the dinner. I usually only do four courses. I know, total slacker.) 

I use the word "create" and "creative" literally on a a daily basis either aloud or in writing. You know what drives me nuts? I hear way too many of my friends say they "just aren't creative." Uh-uh sister. You can't pull that one on me. It's simply not true!

Part of the reason people believe that is because we believe mistakenly creativity is connected to Art. That's "art" with a capital A! You know, the GOOD stuff--not the "eye of the beholder" stuff. Or maybe we had the cranky art teacher at school-- you know, the one who made you color in the lines and forced you to use the boring skin tone crayons instead of appreciating your turqoise and orange family members.

Thankfully, there are many ways to be creative that have nothing to do with drawing or painting or crafting.  Creativity is just a way of looking at things and imagining an outcome. Never thought of it like that?

Your creativity might flourish when you open the fridge at 4:30 one afternoon and pull together a good meal from odds and ends. It might shine when you're composing a blog post or coming up with an angle to promote the company's latest special. Maybe your inner creator is happiest when you're pulling together and accessorizing a really cute outfit for yourself or a friend. 

Creativity is so much more than being able to draw, or paint murals, or knit something teeny and adorable for your cousin's newborn. Creativity is imagination that leaks out your hands. Creativity comes from deep inside you, and it's a big part of what makes you, YOU.

I once read a sign that said, "To create is to imitate your Father." I do believe that, as we are told in Genesis, man was created in the Creator's image, and because of that, each and every person has the capacity for creativity within them--whether they believe it or not. And not only the capacity to be creative, but the spark of desire to be creative. It's there in all of us, even if in our busy modern world we've gotten ourselves into a bad habit of denying that we have that innate need to make something with our hands. 

There is an intense sense of personal fulfillment that comes from being creative. I can only imagine God sitting back after creating our whole gigantic incredibly complex world, and feeling that sense of satisfaction. The Bible tells us "and God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good," Genesis 1:29.

We get a little tiny human-sized spark of that marvelously deep fulfillment when we make something beautiful that brightens our world, search out an item that exactly meets our child's needs, or come up with a new solution to an old problem. We're being creative, and I believe our creativity cannot help but please our Creator (given, of course, that we are using it for good purposes--I have to say, I've read some really creative emails from scammers lately!)

The next time you are tempted to say or think, "I'm just not creative," I encourage you to stop and remember that we are created in God's image and that includes a fabulous imagination with which to view the world and work within it. You are His precious masterpiece, a poem He has written on His hands (See Ephesians 2:10 and Isaiah 49:16). Go let some of that imagination leak.

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