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

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

http://www.glennharrington.com/biography.html

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

http://www.roberthuntstudio.com/roberthuntstudio.com.html

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

Little Lambs Behind You

Little lamb, do you not know what influence you have had? You think—“I have no influence on any. I have led a quiet life.”—but you do not realize the ones that you have touched. Those seeds that you have planted in hearts along the way have been slowly growing. And little have you known it.

But look! Here they come. One here; one there; they each remember, you know. They remember words you’ve spoken and quiet deeds you’ve done, and through the years the seeds have grown and they’re now thirsty for the water that brings life. And you have led them to it.

Here come more little lambs behind you!

Artwork: The Oasis © Robert Ryan
http://www.oisingallery.com/ArtistsPaintings.asp?ArtistID=730&view=all

Before His Glorious Self

And there my hero stands—brave, true, and strong. He stands against the evil one, against all that evil brings with a grace and power that destroys darkness. Yes! That’s the one I bow to. That’s the one I shout about.

JESUS!!! . . . I shout out that name and feel the reverberations through the air. What goodness. What awesome power. What beauty in His spirit. No one can stand against Him. Evil is cast down before His Glorious self.

He is my hero! I shall worship Him with my dying breath.

Artwork: Denying Satan by Carl Heinrich Bloch

It Gushes

It gushes. It spills over. It cascades down around me like laughter. And now that I’ve discovered who I am, it will not stop—Ever!

I am a prosperous soul. All things belong to me for I belong to Christ. And as I watch heaven pouring out around me, whatever I can see is mine; for there is no lack in heaven. Not one tiny bit. And since heaven flows freely through a prosperous soul, then there is no lack for me.

The waters are wild . . . the abundance is rushing . . . and I? I cannot help but smile at such a joyful revelation: He has given me ALL things!

Artwork: Deep Woods Moonlight by Maxfield Parrish

It Looked Like a Strong House

I saw a house get washed away. It looked like a strong house. It looked like it should have stood through any storm--but no, it got washed away when the rains fell hard and the wind beat down.

I think it was not built right. I think that someone built it on the sand, someone not too wise, and sand is not a sturdy place to build. But perhaps they didn't know. Perhaps they thought that if they built the walls from stone then the foundation didn't matter . . . Until, of course, the rains came.

If only they had built that house upon a rock--it might still be standing.

Artwork: Homesick (c) Samy Charnine
http://www.charnine.com

Inspired Imaginings

It is time to dream, kindle the fire in the heart, light up the imagination! God is quite creative . . . and so are we. He made us thus. He made us to be dreamers; thinkers who think larger than any box.

From out of a soul filled with grace and peace the dreaming comes, the inspired imaginings, the prophetic revelations. So rest and talk to Him; and think and sense and see what God sees. I guarantee it will be something bigger than you originally had planned. FAR bigger. FAR more. It will stretch you, this "more". It will challenge you. It may even make you a bit uneasy.

So rest and find that quiet place to think and pray and dream . . . for that “more” is very close.

Artwork: Fire Fancies by Arthur Hacker

Cloud of Hornets

Uh-oh . . . the hornets’ nest has been shook afresh and all those little hornets are quite angry. Peevishly so. Discomfited even, by a thing they cannot comprehend.

The gold dust bothers them. The gold dust brings offence. “The Devil! Witchcraft! Woe and Woe some more!” they cry as their religious sensibilities are brought to such discomfort—and they sting in their distress.

A storm is stirring up, a storm of angry hornets who do not understand that often God offends the mind to reach the heart. And this cloud of hornets now descends against the cloud of glory dust . . . and angels watch this strange event.

Photograph: swarming hornets, unknown

Burst of Golden Glory

It’s here . . . His glory, tangible and real, is here right now. It swirled up above our heads and exploded in a sparkling burst of golden dust, a burst of golden glory. And God laughs to see His children so excited by it, as a father does when giving gifts to all his little ones.

Some frown and shake their heads at the thought of gold dust swirling overhead. “What’s the reason for it?” they would ask. Just because, would be the rightful answer. Just because He’s God. Just because He’s good. Just because He likes to show His glory to us.

God does whatever pleases Him . . . just because He can.

Photograph: gold dust glory cloud

Show Me, Please

Oh, yes, show me! I long to see it all—all the hidden things that I do not know. Is it not exciting? I get giddy thinking about it. To think that you—the God who owns the universe—actually hears my call and actually wants to show me things. Not just any-thing but unsearchable things, things that man cannot possibly ever find out without you revealing them.

Yes! Show me, please . . . I’m waiting . . . right here . . . in your presence . . .

You will show me things that only angels see. You will show me things that make me marvel at your beauty. Yes, yes, that’s what I wish to see—show me, please.

Artwork: The Awakening by Thomas Cooper Gotch

Meant To Cut

It will cut, you know. It is meant to cut—even between joints and marrow—even dividing soul and spirit. It is that sharp. The word of God will judge the heart when we are too afraid to look too deep.

It is the other side of His word; the side that is not milk, not soft and sweet. It is quick and active and will inflict a holy pain upon the heart that needs a cleansing. But it is a good pain—a quick cutting away of foul things that want to cling.

And it pierces deep. Deep enough to find what’s hidden. Deep enough to reveal motives that no one else can see. It is alive . . . God’s breath is on this two-edged sword. Let it do its work; let it lay bare all before the eyes of Him. For you will be better for it.

Artwork: © Greg Callhttp://www.shannonassociates.com/artists/index.cfm?artist_name=gregcall

Up Through the Leafless Trees

I think the winter ends . . . soon. The songbirds feel it. Through the last few flurries they are singing: Brave, bold little voices, rising up to worship Him who made them. Yes! Sing little ones and put us all to shame.

Even in the cold you warble strong and clear. And it rises up . . . up higher still . . . up goes that song of praise. Up through the leafless trees it rings warm and true against the frigid air. You know the love of Him who made you, Him who knows when even one of you falls helpless to the ground. And so you sing!

We shall join the song, for I think that winter disappears more quickly when that sound is heard . . . I’m certain that it does . . . worship drives away the cold.

Photograph: Bird in snow © Bob Mullen
http://www.bobnaturephoto.com/main.php

It Feels Clean

Is it mine to wear? . . . Truly?

My rags are gone? The past is washed away? Sin is but a memory? Ahh, this is what it means to be clothed in white linen.

I like it. It feels clean. It feels wonderful. It feels new—NEW!! New-beginnings new. Yesterdays-are-gone new. Fresh-as-spring-rain new. And I did not have to buy it . . . or earn it . . . or beg for it. Shall I ever understand this love of His? I do not think so.

Artwork: St. Agnes in Prison by Frank Cadogan Cowper

Until You See it Again

Here, I can help you. Let me help you, please. I can describe to you what it looks like to help you remember. Remembering is good. Remembering is necessary. You are only temporarily blind—it will not last. I know it won’t. These circumstances shall end and you shall regain your sight.

But for now I’m coming alongside, taking your hand and telling you what the promise looks like. It’s bright and lovely and full of color. You will not forget while I am here for I shall not let you. Such a promise for your life! Father God created it to fit only you and no one else. Can you see it in your mind? Can you see its vibrant color?

So, rest. He’s here with you and He brought ones like me to come alongside and keep you remembering . . . keep you hoping . . . keep you trusting in His promise until you see it again for yourself.

Artwork: The Blind Girl by Sir John Everett Millais

Forgotten Something?

All of us are healed! All of us are clean to the very marrow of our bones and healed are our souls from woundings deep and grievous. What joy— what clamor does this joy make!

But wait . . . have I forgotten something? In the shouting and the jubilee I nearly shamefully forgot. Oh, heart of mine, a heart so prone to wander and forget, what shall I do with you? I know what I shall do right now. I shall return, fall down at his lovely feet and cover them with tears of thankfulness. Let others have their grand parade, I must first run back to Jesus, dearest name above all names, and throw my arms around him . . . this time I shall not forget.

Artwork: Ten Lepers © James Christensen
http://www.greenwichworkshop.com/christensen/

Bursting at the Seams

Beyond this realm of earth and rock and sea that we call earth there is something that’s invisible— a realm where angels dwell, where light and sound and color fill the heavens. We get a glimpsing of it . . . just a bit . . . when skies above break open.

Do not fear the night - in darkest night His glory shines the best and brightest. Do not tremble when the darkness howls - the sound of glory shall be heard above it. All creation groans for His return and the sky is bursting! at the seams to show it.

Photograph: In the Shadows of the Stars © Greg Martin

http://www.artofgregmartin.com/

Out There

Get in the boat! Get in the boat, I say, and go! And if the sky threatens storm? If black clouds pile up like burnt marshmallows? If the wind blows the waters wild, then what? Get in the boat and go!

He who calms the storms and brings peace upon the waters is the one who called you to it. He is the one who keeps the boat afloat after all. Do not look back to that steady pier . . . you may lose heart. Do not look back and wish to tether there again . . . that’s not the right direction.

Look out across the waters wild - and row. Your future is out there.

Artwork: by Peter Bay Alexandersen

http://www.shannonassociates.com/artists/index.cfm?artist_name=peterbayalexandersen