Reflections on Deeper Things

Reflections on the journey with the One who is beloved above all. Thoughts on who He is that would dare to die for those who did not know Him. Not many have the courage to dig so deep beneath the surface of things that they could be permanently branded by a fire that is all-consuming.

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Musician, singer, poet, writer, single woman, friend.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Sleep For Now

I am praying for you strong one, little warrior one. I am praying that you make it all the way, all the way into this wide strange world . . . safe. I am hoping that you will learn to sing your song and follow the beat of your own drummer. I am hoping beyond hope that you will not become a stat . . . a cold statistic, one of millions, of all the little warriors who did not win their fight.

Shh, sleep for now and do not worry your sweet heart about it - for I am praying for you. Tens of thousands of us are. We will not stop our speaking, writing, praying, standing along sidewalks on cold mornings hoping to help all those mothers-dear who do not know they have a little warrior down inside them.

Photograph: Fetus in womb, unknown

Friday, July 25, 2014

They Think Themselves a Giant

They think themselves a giant. They think that you are small. They think that they will feed you to the birds - or ruin you with rockets.

They brag of your demise, believing that their sword is very large and stronger than your pebbles. They taunt and roar with much ado and drama (because the world is watching, don't you know, and Hamas must keep it watching.)

It is not the first time, dear Israel, that you faced a giant . . . and we all know how that story ended.

Artwork: David and Goliath by unknown

Friday, July 18, 2014

Worth the Drinking

I found something worth the drinking. Ha! I found a good strong tonic that does my heart good. And a funny thing is there are some in the church who do not even believe it exists - they have NEVER drunk it (so sorry for them). And some who have heard of it, will not touch "the stuff".  

It has a name, though they do not like to speak of it, thus I shall whisper it here so as not to bring too much offense (new wine). Have you heard of it before?

It is completely different from the old stuff - fresh, bursting with flavor, very potent. And I find myself a bit tipsy on the joy it brings. All I can say is . . . GIVE ME MORE!

Artwork: New Wine by unknown

Saturday, May 03, 2014

Strong Grip

He won't, you know. He never has. Not since the first moment that you called His name and believed. He has never let go of you - and He never will.

Oh, I can guarantee that you will; at least a few times in this journey. You will let go of him, fail Him, falter in some way; but He holds on. That is the only reason any of us ever make it to the end, for the sake of His strong grip.

You cannot be snatched from His hand. Not stolen. Not lost. Even if you were to sink down into a miry pit, Father's hand would find you there and pull you out . . . now that is true security. 

Artwork: Cast Your Cares - unknown

Sunday, April 20, 2014

All Hell Tried

He could not do it. Oh, he tried, alright. He tried and all hell tried with him. But to no avail . . . that third day came. THAT THIRD DAY CAME!!

It was quite a surprise, I'm sure; a terrifying surprise to him and all his cohorts in that other realm. They cried and whined and sniveled and screamed their rage, "What is this? We had him! We defeated him! We took his life and buried him!"

But then . . . that third day came. And they have been in a rage ever since.

Artwork: unknown

Sunday, April 06, 2014

The Only Way Through

"There is the gate."
"Him? He is a person, not a gate."
"No, that is the gate."
"But a gate is what one 'goes' through."
"Yes, and they must go through Him."
"They might walk around Him. He is only one person, after all; not very wide."
"They might try. But He is the passage, the Way through. There is no other entry."
"Well, if He is the only way through, that makes for a pretty narrow gate."
"It does. And it is . . . narrow, that is."
"Not everyone shall like the idea of going through Him. They shall try all manner of ways to enter."
"They shall; in fact, many shall. But . . . there is only one gate . . . and it is Him."

Artwork: Coming Glory by Mareesha D.S.

Wednesday, February 05, 2014

This Rain Floods

It rained down again this morning. It soaked me to the core and washed away all of yesterday. And when it did I felt the lightness spring into my step again. 

Sweet, cleansing, a new beginning even - I cannot get enough of this daily downspout. "Let it rain!!" I cry up to the heavens as I dance beneath the shower. "Let your mercies rain and never stop!" 

Down it plunges from the heavens. Down it floods anew each morning till heart is tender, clean, and ready for another day. Dear Papa in the heavens . . . your mercy I shall always need.

Artwork: Dance in the Rain © Christine Council

Saturday, February 01, 2014

Mr. Hyde

I wanted you to be my hero - my protector, even. But you could not. And I was not strong enough to stand against the rage when you would morph into that Mr. Hyde.

If only I were Wonder Woman I would have been strong enough to stand, to love, to persevere when the tide was proving not to change . . . but Wonder Woman I was not.

I needed Mr. Hyde to go away. Depart. Never dare return again; yet, leave my hero here, so he could cover me like Boaz did to Ruth and show me what real love is like. But after feet were cut and bleeding by the eggshells I was always walking on, I had to finally be the one to quietly depart. For Mr. Hyde chose not to leave, so I had to be the brave one. And God gave me strength to make the change when my hero found that he could not.

Artwork: Angry Superhero by unknown

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Gotten Themselves into a Muddle

Oh, it's moving quickly now, plowing down the road in lightening speed. Far quicker than A&E ever intended. They bit hard and quick, thinking the bite would straighten him out, put him in line, punish him just enough to back him in a corner. But it took off, with their teeth desperately imbedded, and them not being able to free themselves. Poor A&E. Now they have gotten themselves into a muddle.

They did not know how to handle it: Another voice has dared to speak; another soul has refused to bow to the media's thought police.

And I say - WELL DONE! Well done, Phil Robertson, for speaking truth and answering those simple questions as straightforward as you did. No hemming or hawing from you. No cowering or worrying who thinks what about you . . . refreshing . . . encouraging . . . wonderful to see that there are those who do not bend with fear before that vocal crowd who have a tendency to call evil good - and who try to punish those who refuse to do the same.

Millions of us stand behind you, without a platform, without that clarion vantage that you have to speak and have it broadcast for the world to hear. Thank you, Phil Robertson. Your voice means much to us! . . . Poor A&E. Let's see how you get your teeth out of this one.

Artwork: (c) Peter Bay Alexandersen
http://www.shannonassociates.com/artist/peterbayalexandersen

Thursday, October 24, 2013

God's Lovely Mess

You called upon Him - and there He is. Surprised? Did you really think that all your stuff would be too much for Him to bear or too ugly for Him to look upon? Or worse: That you were just too unlovable for Him to love?

He came because you called. And you called because you believe. Deep inside your heart it was there and you did not even know it - a tiny seed of faith that had been planted years and years ago; a knowing that God is there. And you wandered, and you chose wrong paths, and you hid the wounds. Until that day - when you called His name.

Perhaps you are a mess . . . but you are God's lovely mess now.

Artwork: Her Choice (c) Diana Moses Botkin
http://www.dianamosesbotkin.com/

Friday, October 11, 2013

A Place of Graves

The gate is wide. The gate is tall and stately . . . and intimidating. As well it should be! (say those who enter through it) For there beyond lies a most sacred place with which we pride ourselves in its clean, and orderly, and necessarily structured confines that make us feel so duly holy, so right before our God, so happy we can come here with other like-minded fellows and enjoy the reverent company.

But . . . it is a place of graves, isn't it? (They do not hear me) Excuse me! It is a place for dead people, is it not?

As I peek in I see the tombs - white-washed and very pretty. Rows and rows of them. I see the burdens on the backs of those who walk within . . . no, I do not think that I shall enter in.

Artwork: Cemetery at Dusk by Caspar Friedrich

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Stronger Than Your Winds


O, Autumn, come! Come early if you can. My storm-loving sensibilities are missing you.

I am so ready for the wind to gather up the leaves again. Storms, you must promise to pummel hard and shout with those thunderous voices you are so well versed in. God’s voice has sounded like your thunder. My God is bigger, though. Bigger than you, Storms—louder than your thunder, stronger than your winds, fiercer than your lightning that you cast upon the earth.

I cannot wait for autumn’s storms—they so remind me of the God I love.


Artwork: An Autumn Wind by unknown

Sunday, September 08, 2013

War with the Lamb

“She is gone?”
“Yes. Her soul is now in heaven, with us.”
“It is that demon prince that did it, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that principality that they call ‘Allah’. Always at war with the Lamb and His saints—”
“And always working through the blinded ones who follow it.”
“Yes, since the 7th century when it was raised up as a god."

"Their moon god?"
"Their moon god. Chosen from the 300 false gods that they worshiped, chosen to become their only god.”
“Well, the time is getting closer when the True One shall return. Then this counterfeit shall fall.”
“This counterfeit has already begun its fall. A kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. It is devouring itself through the violence and hatred that it breeds . . . but there is hope in the midst of it!”
“You mean more shall turn and call upon His name, the name that saves? As she did?”
“Millions more! More than can be counted. More than can be stopped.”
“That demon prince will scream—blood will flow thicker!”
“Yes . . . but that is because it knows that it is doomed.”


Artwork: St. Eulalia, detail by Waterhouse

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Slithered his Way

Defend the good, Elisa Chan! Defend the right to think and speak aloud your thoughts as God has led you! For you see, the enemy is about. The enemy of He who is Truth itself has slithered his way into this country—fully invited to come. Fully invited by those who love the darkness more than light.

And in homes he has quietly taken up roost. And in government buildings he is happily nestled. And around the media he has wrapped his coils—in hopes to strangle voices such as yours, Councilwoman Chan.

Be brave!—though foul words will be spat at you. Be fearless!—though they will try to ruin you. Remember, the Beloved of the Heavens stands with you and has given you a strong and solid conscience to help guide you. They may call evil good, but God does not . . . it is that snake who does.

Artwork: Danger on the Stairs © Pierre Roy   

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Out of That Dark Hold

There you are. So many prayed for you to do it. You found the key that leads you into freedom and, though liberty feels strange after being captive for so long, I promise it's a good thing.

It was lies that held you, and now—it is truth that sets you free. What joy it is to see you stepping out of that dark hold (though, granted, with timidity at first). The enemy of God, and so the enemy of you, tried so hard to keep you there, tried by every tool to keep you believing in the lies . . . and thus, keep you locked away from light and life and all that you were meant to have.
No more.

Hah! Christ wins again.

Artwork: The Keys by Edward Blair Leighton

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Pounded Down With Nails

Every sin . . . what weight it must have been. Every sin. Not just sin from one or two. Not just sin from tens of hundreds, but the sins of all humanity throughout the history of the earth were laid upon him. A world’s weight set upon his frame and pounded down with nails.

What sheer breadth and height it would have measured (if sin could possibly be measured thus): Homosexuality, pornography, hatred, murder, lies, rebellion . . . countless sins in every shape and form as can be imagined in the heart of man.

And at that moment of the laying of our sins upon him . . . God's wrath was satisfied. The payment for our souls was made. Someone had to pay the penalty, and only he, who had no sin, could do it.


Artwork: Nailed to the Cross, unknown

Monday, July 29, 2013

Underneath

Thump-thump . . . thump-thump . . . thump-thump . . . I hear it. It sets my heart at peace. I hear it in this shadowed place. Steady. Strong. Unlike any other sound.

It breaks through fear. It restores calm. It makes the world’s noise disappear. It soothes my agitation and brings rest.

It is God’s heartbeat. And only those who have found their refuge underneath his wings have ever heard it.

Yes, truly it is unlike any other sound.


Artwork: wings, unknown

Friday, June 07, 2013

Let The Dreams Begin!

He visits them in dreams . . . and they believe in Him. By the thousands they are turning, bowing knee to ground to worship Him who is the dearest of them all.

And who can stop the Son of God from entering into a sleeper’s quiet rest? No one can. Who can stop dear muslim souls from believing in their heart that Jesus saves? No one can.


And the eastern world accuses, “it’s a foreign plot to convert muslims!” Oh, no, not a foreign plot at all— it is a God plot! A Holy Spirit plot! An incredible plot thought out by God Himself at the beginning of the world.

Night is falling now . . . the eastern world is lying down to sleep . . . and heaven shouts, "LET THE DREAMS BEGIN!"


Photograph: Jesus in a dream, unknown

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

100,000 Dear Ones

It is burned into their hearts—deep and fragrant, rising up to heaven. Even threat of death cannot turn them from it. What is this thing to which they cling so strongly that death is chosen over letting go of it?

It is something Islam cannot comprehend. Muslims fear the strength of it and communists do also. Beat it out of them! They try . . . Burn their property! They do . . . but to no avail.

100,000 dear ones are killed each year by those who hate the brightness of its light. 

What is this thing that births such courage in the face of death? . . . It is the simple love that’s found in Jesus.

Artwork: St. Nicholas Saves Three Innocents from Death by Ilya Repin

Thursday, May 09, 2013

A Blessed Burial

 

Under the water you go; under the water to bury that old dead self you were. And when you rise up? That old self will not rise with you - it is dead! It is buried! The world shall hardly recognize you, for you are no longer one of them. Now you are a citizen of a different country.

So down you go, a blessed burial. Down you go, buried with Christ so that you can be resurrected with Him.

What a wonderful day to be reborn!!

Artwork: Splashing by unknown


Tuesday, April 30, 2013

This Other Battle

Do not stop. No matter what they say, do not give in. Bow your knee to Him you know is truth no matter where the battle comes from. And if it comes from the Pentagon, itself? Do not stop!

Be brave, for you are not alone. Be strong, for we are praying for you. They say your bended knee is a national threat to our security. Ha! Keep bowing, soldiers all, keep loving, keep sharing the comfort of your Christ . . . and never stop.

And if they call it treason? Have no fear, for Jesus was called traitor, too. Only cling to truth and faith and keep speaking to all who have the ears to hear. For many shall be brought into the kingdom because of this other battle that you fight—a battle that has eternal consequence.

Photograph: soldiers praying, unknown

Friday, April 26, 2013

He says

He says that you are not alive. He says your tiny beating heart does not a person make. He says that those who wish to protect your tiny self are living in the past . . . are oppressive . . . even evil.

He declares that he is friend and ally to those who wish to end your life—in fact, he shall help them take it, as he trumpets himself the hero of those who do the taking.

Who is this orator sublime who gilds death with glittering platitudes, as he smiles and speaks of you, small growing one, as if you have no right to live, no right to stretch and grow and sing your song that God alone did give you?

Who is he that dares to raise his fist against your little life? . . . He calls himself President Obama.

Photograph: fetus at 12 weeks, unknown 

Thursday, April 25, 2013

A Child Does

"Who carries the light?" I heard the rapid fire questions whispered in the night. “Who carries the light? Who carries the light?"

A child does. A child carries the light.

"A child does? How can a child carry the light? A child is small. A child is simple. And THIS light is very important! THIS light is full of glory and weight and power."

Did you not know? . . . He chose the simple to confound the wise.

Artwork: Ethan’s Lantern © Morgan Weistling
http://www.morganweistling.com/

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Aiming At Its Heart

There it is! Are you aiming at its heart? Are you certain you can down it? You must be certain ere the arrow flies, before it skims across the air . . . less it misses. For if it should miss then you would have a beast to reckon with.

And not just any beast, but this beast: The one that would like nothing else but to devour you. That is why it skulks amongst the shadows as it does. That is why it trails behind with nose to ground to keep upon your heels. It loves your fear. It feeds upon it, so it must stir it up or else its belly would be empty.

But now you have it in your sights. Go on! God will give a steady hand. Now is not the time to fear!—now is the time to breathe, slow and deep, and aim true.

Artwork: The Outlaws of Sherwood © Robert Hunt
http://roberthuntstudio.com/

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Words to Steal Hope

Do not be surprised by it. Do not be caught off guard if you should hear that voice. Even He Himself once heard it. Even He, the Dearest of them all, was pressed beneath the dead weight of it.

It fell upon Him sorely: cold and heavy like a rock beneath the ice. It tried to break Him. It whispered in His ear (and so will do in your’s); it whispered words to steal hope away. It jeered when He was in the garden. It mocked whilst He was on the cross. It howled with sheer delight at His final breath.

But then He rose—and vanquished that dark voice forever!! . . . remember that when you should hear it next.

Artwork: Temptation of Christ © Eric Armusik
http://www.ericarmusik.com/

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Never Retired

You are not forgotten—Ever! And in His Kingdom you are never retired or put out to pasture or wheeled away to some forgotten room. Heavens No!

The power of Christ still courses strongly through your being, as it did when you were a younger, fiery brand. He wants you still to partner with Him, if you will . . . if you care to . . . if you"ll let Him. 

There are still sick to be healed and dead to be raised and discouraged ones to be lifted up by the prophetic words Holy Spirit gives you. Your latter light shall be brighter than your former . . . if you will, if you care to . . . it's not over yet.

Artwork: A Helping Hand by Carts

Sunday, January 20, 2013

A Light by Which to Walk

Another change. Another move. But, “Trust in God!” I tell my soul. “Soul,” I say, “do not forget how faithful is our God!

“Though dim the night, it shall be turned to brightest light. For so God said,” and still I’m speaking to my soul, “so He said that I was not to kindle my own fire to make a light by which to walk. No, indeed!

“A fire that I should light would steal away my peace when I lie down to rest. So, soul,” still speaking sternly to my inner self that sometimes struggles when the path gets dark, “just wait till He, himself, brings light upon the path you walk.”

Artwork: Pilgrim in a Rocky Valley by Carl Gustav Carus

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

A Pauper No Longer


I am learning. It has been hard to learn this truth, for the world and circumstance and the enemy of our souls all work together to keep it from us. But I’ve been learning . . . yes, I have.

I have been learning a truth that has changed my life, my views, my interactions with others, and my love for my dearest Father God. What truth! What long lost revelation that has begun to free me, inspire me, and help me walk a higher walk.

And so the truth is this: . . . I am royalty. Because of Christ and his death upon the cross I have been adopted into a royal family. Hah! I am a pauper no longer. I AM ROYALTY!!!

 . . . and I am learning to behave as such.

 Artwork: Night by Edward Robert Hughes

Monday, November 19, 2012

Stirs to Wake

I breathe. I breathe in deep . . . it’s like the wind . . . it’s like a fragrance that stirs to wake.

Oh, yes, that is Him. I know Him well. I know His scent. It smells like life!

And this fresh breeze that I so love to linger in and breathe in deep and smile at as it blows about me is something that I cannot live without . . . His presence.

Artwork: Desert Wind © Rob Chiu
http://www.flickr.com/photos/theronin/

Wednesday, November 07, 2012

Stuff Falling Off

Welcome to the family! Did you know that you are now a royal child? Your father is a King (the King of kings) and you shall learn his ways, now that you have been adopted into this large clan of his.

Oh, we can be a noisy bunch - we love to laugh! And you will find all sorts of stuff falling off you that you did not even realize you carried . . . burdens, that is. Ailments and griefs of various kinds. Baggage and trappings that never served you very well after all.

O-ho! Yes, welcome to the family. Such a good thing that you are here at last!

Artwork: Set Free © Deborah Nell
http://deborah-nell.artistwebsites.com/

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Most Fierce Opponent

God did not make you so. You were not born for such a life. It was your choice.

Your conscience tried to stop you in it—for many years that precious gift within you, given by a loving God, tried to stop you from this course. But you would not listen to it. You entertained the thoughts, and when thoughts are entertained for years, they grow in strength till a stronghold grips the mind that is not broken easily.

And when finally you had killed that God-imprinted conscience, put it sound to sleep, you stepped into that homosexual bond that is a false substitute for what the wounds within are really needing.

It is not Christians that have warred against you—it is that truest friend, yet most fierce opponent of them all . . . your conscience.

Artwork: Nature by Arild Rosenkrantz

Friday, October 12, 2012

Child-like Clean

Are you surprised at how it feels, dear one? Are you surprised at the lightness of it? The washed-in-fresh-water sensation of it?

Now you know the power of His blood. Now you know how well it washes clean till all the grime of sin is gone and like a child the innocence is back.

Child-like faith, child-like hope, child-like clean again! And to think that you did not believe in second chances . . . well, you were wrong.

Artwork: Evening by Maxfield Parrish

Monday, October 08, 2012

Thousands of Glorious Cheers

Three cheers for Iceland! Or rather thousands of glorious cheers.

Iceland imprisoned its bankers. Iceland put its people first. Iceland refused to save the banks and it allowed them to fail! Hooray for such a courageous folk!

And what of Iceland now? Iceland’s economy is growing fast; faster than the U.S. and Europe. The government created better banks and forgave the people much of their debt. The brave, fighting folk of the cold north are wise, with wiser leaders than we have in the United States.

Remember us, Iceland, as we begin our fight . . . for we shall remember you and your great victory and it shall help us in our own dark night. 

Photograph: unknown

Friday, September 21, 2012

Left to Fight Alone

Gather them up, sweet little souls each one. Gather them up and heaven-bound we go. Cloak is full and, still, there are more to gather in. Millions more!

There is a war against your small sweet lives; there is a war because you have an enemy who hates you.
 
Abused, abandoned, trafficked, murdered in your mothers’ bellies even—a thousand different ways you have been harmed across this wide earth, because of why? Because satan is afraid of you. Because satan hates the One who has created you. Because you might possibly become a follower of Him who is beloved above all. And if you did, the light in you would be far more powerful than the darkness in this world.

But mothers and fathers have been blinded to this war . . . so you are left to fight alone.

Artwork: Field of the Slain by De Morgan

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Human Strength

“It is finally happening!”
“Yes, it is.”
“He looks very strong.”
“He is. But not strong enough to break his chains.”
“Ah, yes, the chains. They all have them.”
“They do. And in their human strength some can carry them for a very long time.”
“This one has a praying mother, doesn't he?”
“Oh, yes. And since he was in her womb she has never stopped interceding for him.”
“Does he know what brought him to this place?”
“Not completely; but he will. It’s enough for now that he is here.”
“This is exciting! I’ve never seen it happen. You know, actually been here at the moment. So now, when do the chains actually fall?”
“Any moment now, you will see . . . shh, listen . . . he is doing it. He’s asking Christ into his heart.”


Photograph: Man in Chains, unknown

Monday, August 27, 2012

Chubby Cherubs?

They are an army, you know. Or perhaps you didn’t know. Perhaps you thought they were just sweet chubby cherubs. Or a group of soft-voiced warblers of some unearthly choir that like to wile away their time, singing. Or kindly helpers to us humans that beckon from a 4th dimension. Do you know what angels are? Do you know more than the imaginary stories of movies and TV?

They are the warring, fearless, deeply devoted armies of heaven. They are lovers of God’s Son, Christ, and obey Him alone. Men like to talk of them, but hate to speak about the One they serve. But the name of Jesus is always on their lips.


Courageous. Honorable. Terrifying. Beautiful. All and more.

Chubby Cherubs? . . . hardly.

Artwork: Angel Army, unknown

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

The Right to Speak

So, Dan Cathy of Chick-fil-a has a mind of his own? Has a conscience alive and well to which he answers to? Believes in a loving God who has placed marriage solely in a covenant between a man and a woman?

Oh, dear. What horror! How dare he love a wondrous God who loves him dearly back and thus he wants to think like Him and live with a mind renewed and a lifestyle that reflects His righteousness.

How dare Dan Cathy show the courage to speak what he believes, loud and clear, for all to hear. Insupportable! Insufferable! Not to be tolerated (say those who speak of tolerance the loudest!) This is America! No man shall EVER have the right to speak his mind.

Dan Cathy . . . I applaud you for it!

Photograph: unknown

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Bringers of That Light

"Gate-crashers! Truth-bringers! Spoilers!"

Hear them shriek? Out there, in the dark somewhere? They dislike what we are, but we are what we are and they cannot stop it. We SHINE . . . and they cringe. We SING . . . and they stop up their ears. We pray—oh, my—we PRAY and they are forced to flee and evil tides are changed midstream.

"It’s them! It’s them AGAIN! Filthy bringers of that light; His light; wicked, wicked light!"

Hell doth not look well on us. Hell doth not have love for us. But we shall bring His light regardless, for He who dwells in us shines out of us so brightly.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

A Good Roar

It was louder than the wind. Louder than the thunder even.

It blasted 'cross the heavens like a cannon ball in answer to the prayers of saints. And those minions of the dark gasped in one united breath whilst the chains of captives broke like twigs shattered by a mighty wind.

And when I heard it, I laughed. I could not help but laugh, for He so enjoyed it. The Lion of Judah loves a good roar!


Photograph: unknown

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Never Stop Drinking!

Fire that is all-consuming . . . Water that comes from an eternal well . . . mixed together . . . stirred up. Now . . .

Drink deep.

Guaranteed to change things forever: love will burn more deeply; the heart will beat with greater strength; the vision will expand to see what heaven sees. And best of all—lost ones will be found and healed and saved.

Never stop drinking!

Artwork: photograph unknown

Sunday, April 01, 2012

Clinging To it Bravely

You’re doing well, dear friend. You’ve not fallen yet—and you won’t, for the Lord is able to keep you standing. Their weapons formed against you will not prosper, not even their words. Though they should come at you from every side when you feel weakest—hold fast just as you are doing!

You know the secret, for I see you clinging to it bravely. And though I see you are alarmed . . . don’t be. Christ before, Christ behind, Christ below, and Christ above—so you are surrounded by the refuge that He is. Don’t forget. Remind your soul constantly: In this darkening world you are not alone.

. . . and you have an enemy who hates that truth.

Artwork: © Tristan Elwell

A Basket Full of Lovelies

My basket’s getting full—almost over-flowing-full. I’ve been told that I can pick whatever I see, whatever fair and fragrant thing my eye should set upon. I’ve been told that it’s okay to pick these things because He’s given them to me. And He’s given me the eyes to see them.

Oh, there have been some who’ve tried to dissuade me of doing this. But I am stubborn. I believe that time in my garden with Him is never wasted. And I do my best to not pick bitter thorns. Bitter thorns are not what God intends for us.

NO to thorns and weeds and strangling vines, ALL of them! He has planted things in my garden . . . and watered . . . and weeded regularly (sometimes painfully), but always with the intent to reap a basket full of lovelies.

Artwork: Betty’s Posy Shop by Jessie Wilcox-Smith

Wednesday, March 07, 2012

Pain That Claws

They weep for children lost, for bairns that were not allowed one breath of sun-filled air. They weep profusely now—but then? Then, with understanding darkened, it was they who chose the knife. It was they who chose to end the life within that held such promise . . . but now they weep.

No one told them that such pain awaited them, pain that claws into the soul. No one told them of the consequence that comes when mothers-dear end the life that they were meant to nurture. But it comes. It always comes eventually. Their conscience will not have it any other way.


If only they'd been told the truth.

Artwork: Rachel Weeping For Her Children © Stephen Gjertson
http://www.stephengjertsonstudios.com/

Tuesday, March 06, 2012

Love Came Down

Love came down. Not in the way many believed it should look like. But love came down in the midst of men and took the sins that all of us are guilty of, upon Himself.

Love was bruised. And it was love that spread His arms in quiet submission and took the nails. And then love did something that no one else could ever do—He rose up from the grave and conquered death forever.


Such love is very powerful. Such love is worth giving up all for. Islam, Buddhism, Ba-haiism, Hinduism . . . none of these could ever offer such love as this. I, for one, am a soul that has been undone by it.


Artwork: Allegory of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ © Patrick Devonas
http://www.patrickdevonas.com/

I Heard it Laugh

I thought it was a sheep. I did. I thought it was a gentle, loving sheep . . . until I heard it laugh. And then I knew—it was a wolf.

Only wolves can laugh like that: A derisive, shallow, gloating kind of sound. It stood tall over the broken creature that was curled up beneath it and it laughed.


The laugh is what gave it away, for a sheep could never laugh over a wounded one. A sheep has too loving of a heart. The sound grieved my heart for I knew from what pit the laugh had come. And I knew what influence the wolf was under.


And when the wolf laughed, I heard the darkest sound. I heard the sound of all hell laughing with it.


Artwork: Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing by artist unknown

Friday, February 24, 2012

Not Angels

We are the object of your affection. Not angels. Not animals. Not all the stars. Not even earth with all its varied beauty. But we are whom you’ve chosen to lavish love upon.

You, the infinite God of the universe have set your infinite love and desire on one thing . . . mankind. Outside of yourself, you have chosen humanity as the greatest source of your pleasure.

And further still, you gave your own son to make a way for us to have relationship. You wanted us that much! . . . my Glorious One, I am left speechless
.
Artwork: Triumph of Light by Matsch

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Bright With Life

“Look at all of them!”
“They shine very lovely, don’t you think?”
“They’re amazing. I never knew that words of life were so . . . so bright with life.”
“Quick, look now.”
“Ahhh, she’s speaking forth a new one. And what exactly is it?”
“It’s a declaration of What is Not as if it Were.”
“And can they really change so much? They are so—simple after all.”
Very much, in fact.”
“Then why do they not all do it?”
“For they’ve not all learned. Some don’t believe that such a little act can be important.”
“Well, I think this one shall never stop.”
“Yes, once they learn they get quite excited at the results.”
“You know, if they all did it, those life-lit words might just fill the earth.”
“That is the intended result. He means for them to fill the earth . . . and transform everything.”


Artwork: Little Girl Sitting in Field with Fireflies © Mike Elliott

Just Walk

So you made it out the door. That’s a start—But what next? Will you stand there forever, staring out across that flat plain because you are hesitant to take a step out into a wide place? No, that isn’t you. I know you and I know that is not who you are made to be.

You are not timid. You have His power dwelling in you. You have ALL of heaven backing you up. You have an army of angels walking with you. You told me those very same things once.

So now, take a deep breath. One. Two. Three. . . . and just walk. Everything happens after that first step.

Artwork: © Glenn Harrington

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Your Father's Rage

Dear angry one,

I see your father’s shadow standing there behind you, a figment of the past that haunts. I see what he has given you each time the anger rises up and twists your face into a mask that’s dark. It is inherited, you see.

When just a child you received the brunt of all your father’s rage. Not right. Not love. Not anything remotely like our heavenly Father’s heart. And you are bound to it yet still; for every time a wound is touched the anger burns within your eyes and comes screaming out in words that shock.

But there is hope. Jesus, fierce lion-lamb, can set you free from the prison that your father placed you in . . . Forgiveness is the key He uses.

Artwork: © Robert Hunt

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Pulling Heaven Down

I feel it . . . I feel it in the air . . . Whoo-hoo!

It’s a wonderful thing when heaven touches earth. It’s exciting to see the change—to even feel it. Holy Spirit blows it in . . . from where? I do not know. From wherever God keeps the winds all stored up, I suppose. Heaven is invading earth through those He calls His children—the adopted ones—the ones who call upon His name and love Him dearly.

I’m pulling it down. Right here. Right where I stand. I’m pulling heaven down! . . . And tranformation, healing, love, and life and all that is in heaven is being pulled down with it.

Artwork: Undine in the Wind by Arthur Rackham