Watching for Miracles

“When will they be ready?” He asks for the tenth time today.

“I don’t know, little man. Soon, though.”

“What will they look like?

“I’m not sure. But I bet they’ll be beautiful.”

He watches, waiting for the moment when they burst forth from their tombs, afraid if he peels his eyes away for even an instant, he’ll miss it.

He’s been watching for two weeks now. They came as larvae. He watched them grow into caterpillars. He watched them inch to the top, spin their webs, and create their shells of transformation. Now he watches their stillness, wondering what could possibly be taking so long.

For a five year old, two weeks is an eternity.

As he watches, he doesn’t realize that I’m watching him. Watching in awe as he grows and changes. Watching in pride as he spins and creates. Waiting in anticipation for the moment his eyes are opened to the Truth, the moment he bursts forth from the tomb and into salvation, a new creation. I could push him. I could convince him. If I asked him if he wanted Jesus to enter into his tiny heart, he would say yes. But I want it to be because he’s seen Jesus with his own little eyes. I want my son to accept Jesus because he sees those nail-scarred hands and can’t help but fall into their safety. It will happen. Soon. The time is close. He’s almost ready. In the meantime, I watch. I wait.

For a mother, five years is but a moment.

And as I watch, I feel the eyes of Someone watching me. Watching in awe as I grow and change. Watching in pride as I spin and create. Waiting in anticipation for the moment when I burst forth from the tomb of my brokenness and into the fullness of freedom in Truth. He could push me, but He doesn’t. Instead, He carries me once again with those nail-scarred hands. His eyes watch, but they don’t wonder. They know. They already see who I will be. Those eyes are the same eyes that formed me in the dark. Those eyes have seen every plummet, every tear, every dream. And those eyes see not only where I have been, but who I will become.

For a King, a lifetime is only the beginning.

A little boy watches as caterpillars become butterflies. A mother watches as her little boy becomes a man. And a King watches as a woman becomes His bride.

Psalm 121:5-8

The Lord Himself watches over you! The Lord stands beside you as your protective shade. The sun will not harm you by day nor the moon at night. The Lord keeps you from harm and watches over your life. The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever.

 

 

 

REST

Rest.

Such a simple word—four measly letters. Yet we avoid it like the plague. We run from it like it holds a contagious virus. How many sermons have we heard about the importance of taking time to be still and seek God’s face? How many books have we scoured in pursuit of answers for the churning of our hearts? And yet still we run. Still we strive. Still we fill our lives with mirages of hope. And then we wonder why we feel so run down.

I spent the last week resting. No demands. No schedule. No appointments. Just me, my lawn chair, and an incredible view. When you stare at something like this, it’s hard to keep moving. The only possible response is to stand frozen (or in my case sit) in awe.

I know what you’re thinking.

“Sure, if all I had to do today was sit in a lawn chair and drink a margarita, I’d be feeling pretty rested too! But that’s not my view in the morning. My view is a pile of dirty dishes, a to-do list with a million things on it, and a life coming apart at the seams.”

But what if this was our view? What if we took the time to see this every single day? Maybe I’m just crazy—but what if we stopped? Stopped running. Stopped searching. Stopped filling? What would happen if we took the time really seek THE FACE that puts the azure of the ocean to shame?

"If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land." - 2 Chronicles 7:14

I like Google’s definition of the word rest:

Rest

Verb:	Cease work or movement in order to relax, refresh oneself, or recover strength. Remain or be left in a specified condition: "rest assured".
Noun:	An instance or period of relaxing or ceasing to engage in strenuous or stressful activity. The remaining part of something.

Did you see the last definition?

The remaining part of something.

Although I experienced a much needed rest for my body this week, I discovered something far greater. When we allow ourselves to be consumed with busyness, we lose something. We lose ourselves in the mess of our chaos. We forget what really matters, and we end up striving, searching, filling. When we stop, we find the parts of ourselves we’ve lost along the way. Those deep parts of our soul that slowly die each day. We also find the parts of God we miss because we don’t give him half a chance to show up.

Is it feasible to imagine our real lives as the lawn chairs overlooking vistas of awe-inspiring grandeur?

I challenge you this week to seek God's face. Let me know what you see. I have a feeling it will blow you away far more than the picture I've posted here.

 

Psalm 27:8

My heart has heard You say, "Come and talk with Me." And my heart responds, "Lord, I am coming."

Hungry for More

A cheeseburger ruined my Sunday.

It’s true, my friends. Well, actually I let a cheeseburger ruin my Sunday.

As a mom who has the privilege of taking care of three little people and the wife of a traveling salesman, I don’t get out much. Now that I’m on a slow down and savor the moment path, I’ve been spending a lot of time making messes in the kitchen, jumping on the trampoline, and embarrassing my kids with my incredible dance moves. But if I’m totally honest, I have to tell you that sometimes I’m just exhausted from the weight I bear as a mother.

 A dear friend celebrated her birthday on Saturday, and this always-late-to-everything-girl sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes waiting for everyone else to get there. Yes, that’s how hungry I was for conversation that doesn’t involve bodily functions and requests for justice to be handed out. All week I had dreamed of this night. More than the precious women I would spend time with, it was my grand dreams of a cheeseburger that I set my sights on. It didn’t bother me one bit that everyone else ordered a salad. I didn’t feel one tinge of guilt as I bit into all its juicy loveliness. Unwilling to let the moment end, I saved a quarter to take home.

There was a small part of me that thought for a moment of giving my long-awaited treasure to my husband, but I quickly pushed that thought aside. After all, he gets to eat out on the road every week, right?

At church yesterday, the pastor spoke on praise. He reminded us through a story in the book of Matthew that if God’s people don’t praise him, then the rocks will cry out. The congregation practically soared to their feet as we praised our Great God. I left excited about what God is doing. I wanted to dance. I wanted to raise my family up as a banner declaring the God’s praises.

A hungry stomach tends to get in the way of great intentions.

When we got home, that always-thinking-of-others guy I married began to make lunch for the little people. My mind raced to the cheeseburger waiting in the refrigerator. But it wasn’t there. It was on the counter. I grabbed for it greedily. Someone else had the same thought.

“Just one bite, please?”

“Okay, but tiny.”

And that man took half of my quarter of a cheeseburger.

With my daughter standing there in attendance, I belly-ached like a baby, slammed the microwave, and stomped out of the room. All of my dreams of this cheeseburger fell crashing to the floor.

 And it took me four hours to recover.

Ridiculous? Yes. Childish? Yes. Humiliating? Definitely. Beyond grace? Never

Have you ever been so hungry you did something crazy? Something you look back on and wish you could erase? I’m hungry, but not for cheeseburgers. I’m hungry for the living God who satisfies the deepest longings of my heart.

Psalm 81:10 says,

“Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it with good things.”

I don’t seem to have any trouble opening my mouth. My mouth does just fine spewing out criticism, judgment, frustration, and demands. It also seems quite capable of opening to fill up on the temporary pleasures of this world.

How wide am I opening my mouth so the Bread of Life can fill it with the good things of Himself? Can my mouth even open wide enough to receive what He has for me? Is this the one time my mouth isn’t big enough?

Taste and see that the Lord is good.  Psalm 34:8

Dare to Dream

I’ve always had big dreams for my life. When they tell you as a child that you can be anything, I really believed it. It took me a long time to realize the dream planted deep within my soul, but I always knew it was there. It all makes sense now…all of my wanderings have led me to the very place I always wanted to be. And now I realize that all I’ve ever really wanted to do was write and speak.  

Every January, I ask God what He wants for the year. I ask Him for a passage that will bind the months, days, hours, and minutes together in one unbreakable thread. I pray over the verses He gives me throughout the year, clinging to them when the chaos threatens to drown my hope. Last year He gave me Psalm 90:14-17 and I prayed success for both my endeavors, and Ryan’s. God granted us success. My dreams grew as doors opened and opportunities glistened. He heard my prayers and rained down blessing on a heart that knows well the barrenness of the desert. Yet with every opportunity, I watched another dream slip slowly away. In my busyness, I lost track of three little hearts that are placed in my care for merely a blink of an eye.

This year began like every other. I asked God for scripture that would encompass His desires for the year. This year, the passage He gave me was Romans 15:5-6.

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with ONE mind and ONE voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

My prayers changed from success for myself to unity in my family. I heard God tell me at the beginning that it would be a year of stripping responsibilities so those little hearts could be reclaimed.

Less glory. More mess. Less appreciation. More stress. Less attention. More frustration.

I am slow to give things up.

Two months ago, I sat in the middle seat of an airplane, blinded by the tears I fought desperately to control. Little did I know in January that a farmer’s wife in Canada wrote a book called “1000 Gifts – A dare to live fully right where you are,” that would change my life. I went to a conference to learn how to promote my speaking ministry. I came back with a message that rocked me to my core.

The ever-present voice whispered yet again…

My dreams for your family are bigger than my dreams for your ministry

Less glory. More reward! Less appreciation. More joy! Less attention. More life!

I still want to write. The dream to speak remains embedded deep within me. But right now, I am gathering my little chicks close, and they are the dream worth pouring my heart and soul into. They are the prize worth chasing after. And let me tell you, I’m chasing hard.

Rampage

I’ve been reading through the Old Testament. This isn’t something new for me. I tend to gravitate more to the Old Testament for some reason. There is something about God’s heart revealed in His endless pursuit of His people’s hearts that beckons me again and again. But every time I get past 2 Samuel, I struggle to keep going. All those kings who just couldn’t get their act together bores me to no end. I mean, really, could they not obey the simple command to worship God alone? The nation of Israel struggled more than Judah in this regard. Over and over it says, “but “so and so” did what was evil in the Lord’s sight, following the example of Jeroboam, who had led Israel to sin.” I am fascinated by Jeroboam. A single man caused an entire lineage to be enslaved by idolatry. How can one man lead generations after generations into sin? Is my sin all that big of a deal? If I don’t get my anger under God’s control, will it really affect anyone? If I can’t get over my insecurities, does it really matter? After all, it’s just me, right? After reading 1 and 2^nd Kings, I’m not so sure.

What idols have I erected in my heart and in my home that will impact my kids—and their kids?

Idolatry is a big deal to God. Yet, for some reason, we kind of brush it aside in our modern Christianity. After all, we don’t build golden calves just because God doesn’t show up on our timeline, right? Hmmm…

Let’s not place all of the blame on Israel here. Judah may have put on a fancy spiritual façade, but their hearts were far from innocent. I read these words the other day, and they have haunted me ever since, following me like an unwelcome shadow.

And though they worshipped the Lord, they continued to follow their own gods according to the religious customs of the nations from which they came…So while these new residents worshipped the Lord, they also worshipped their idols. And to this day their descendants do the same. 2 Kings 17:33, 41

Do I worship God? Absolutely! Do I worship some idols as well? If I’m honest, I have to admit that I do. I worship my quest for worth. I worship the things that I think will bring me happiness. I worship my time. I worship the American Dream, and my right to have what I want, when I want it. I worship convenience. I worship my sleep on a regular basis. I worship my wounds that give me an excuse to hold on to bitterness and unforgiveness. I worship many things. But I think most often, I worship myself. I serve myself while I claim to serve the One who made me out of dust.

What about you—what idols do you need to tear down today? What idols are your children watching you worship?

Ezekiel 11:19-20 says I will give them singleness of heart and put a new spirit within them. I will take away their stony, stubborn heart and give them a tender, responsive heart, so they will obey my decrees and regulations. Then they will truly be my people, and I will be their God.

Living with a divided heart is exhausting, I’m discovering. I want a singleness of heart. I want a tender and responsive heart. I want my children to walk in a legacy of single-minded worship so that my idols aren’t carried down from one generation to the next. Israel and Judah found themselves exactly where they began—in bondage. I’ve come too far to go back. I’ve been rescued from too much to give it all up.

So I am going on a rampage. I’m going to turn this heart upside down until there is room for God and God alone. Want to join me?

Living the Dream

It’s Sunday, and we are driving through the back roads of Colorado. This is a familiar scene in our family. The dreaded—in our kids’ opinion—Sunday drive to scour the surrounding land for a little piece to call our own. It’s been years now. Years of hunting. Years of dreaming. Years of waiting. It makes us tired, this ever searching, always coming home empty journey. But it doesn’t stop us. We won’t stop dreaming until our dream comes true. Today we are headed somewhere new. Friends have the older kids, so there is extra time as the little one in back sings lullabies to her stuffed Bambi. We turn down a road that we always pass, but never travel down. Through the forest, around a bend, up the hill…and then we see it. We gasp and I clutch Ryan’s arm, eyes widening, heart pumping. Had I sat down with God and described specifically what I wanted, this would still blow me away. It’s perfect.

A week later, we go again, unable to shake the memories. The kids complain, but we promise it will be worth it this time. Their eyes widen as the long-awaited dream unfolds into something they tangible. They don’t see the peeling paint, the blue carpets, or the tiny bedrooms. Neither do we. We tell them not to get too excited. We don’t know if it’s really going to happen. Don’t get your hopes up. But they can’t help it—I can’t help it. Suddenly, curtains grace the windows, paint splashes the walls, and chickens scratch the dirt. As we sit in the living room, gazing at the miracle around us, we laugh at Emery’s name for her horse. We dream up the garden, the parties, the memories. My heart swells with the possibilities. How close we will be when we have space to run! My dreams for my family will finally come true. No more fences blocking our view. No more neighbors watching our routine.

It’s Wednesday, and the lender calls to say he’s sorry, but it just can’t happen right now. They need one more year of taxes before we can qualify. Call again in January…

My heart sinks. My dreams dissipate. Maybe the house will still be for sale in January. Maybe. But what about my family? Now we are stuck in this fenced-in mircroscope for another couple months.

It’s Sunday again. Family night. We are teaching the kids about Creation, seeking to draw their hearts to the One who holds the world—and our dreams—in his hands. It’s the second day, the day God separates the waters and speaks sky into existence. We lie on the trampoline, ten feet intertwined under a blanket, making shapes out of clouds.

We laugh at Emery’s shapes, because none of them actually exist. We pretend to see the snake Gavin sees. We can almost make out the dog of Selah’s imagination. Isn’t it interesting that they each see what matters to them? The clouds become the symbols for their dreams. They see what they choose to see. I look around and watch them, and my heart swells once more. I watch this little family that laughs, fights, cries, and dreams. And I choose to see the fulfillment of my dreams in their eyes.

I won’t stop dreaming. I won’t stop hanging curtains and naming horses. But today I’m living. I’m living what a dream can never provide. Today. And right here, surrounded by fences and neighbors, a family scoots just a little bit closer as we stare up at the sky.

My cup runs over.

Psalm 118:24

THIS is the day that the Lord has made; I WILL rejoice and be glad in it.

Whisper

I am awakened from the depths of night with the quiet beckoning of an unseen whisper.

 “Come and see something,” He murmurs softly in my ear, that voice I recognize but so rarely heed.

“Oh, but my bed is so warm. My eyes are so heavy. The darkness is so cozy,” I answer back.

Yet deep in my heart I know that if I don’t get up, I will miss something. How many miracles have I missed simply because I wasn’t watching? How many discoveries have I overshadowed with my excuses? How many glimpses of heaven have I exchanged for the promise of comfort?

The whisper grows louder. “Come and see something, child. Come and be with Me.”

A year ago I never would have risen. I would have ignored the voice, dismissed the invitation. But a heart that knows the chains of darkness cannot refuse an offer of life.

So I rise, tired, stumbling, expectant.

The stillness of night envelops me as I sit bundled in an embrace of wool, my eyes slowly awakening to the coming grandeur. I look toward the east, awaiting that indescribable moment when light bursts forth and darkness scurries to hide.  The trees grow silent in anticipation. The sunflowers bow before the unseen Presence. My breath catches as the flames of morning lick the horizon and the earth erupts into song. Their song seeps into my soul, and I cannot help but join in their chorus. Here in the solitude of morning, basking in the blaze of fire, the scales on my eyes and the walls around my heart dissolve into the beauty. How much have I missed? How often do I shield my eyes from the holiness around me because I am too tired, too angry, too busy, and too selfish?

I hear the whisper again. “I’m here. Do you see me? I’m not only in the brilliance. I’m in the cries of your toddler. I’m in the mounds of laundry hiding in your closets. I’m in the brokenness of your dreams. I’m in the hush of evening. I’m in your chaos, your laughter, your tears—and even in your darkness.”

I’m beginning to see.  I’m learning to allow the holy access into every aspect of life. To allow my wounds to be wells of healing that can be poured out for others. As I sit in the silence of morning, I look around and I see. I see Him all around me.  

The first glimpse of a new day

The sound of wings taking flight

Wind blowing through curtains

The strong lungs of a blue-eyed 3 yr. old

A tail wagging

A garden bursting with fruit

The call of geese

The familiar smile of an old friend.

1 Kings 19:11-12

“Go out and stand before me on the mountain,” the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.

Are you listening? Where do see Him today?

Questions to ponder:

What keeps you from seeing God all around you?

Have you ever missed a miracle because you didn't take the time to watch for it?

What is God saying to you today?