God wants us to delight in His Word.
When we do delight in His Word, we start to see our neighbors – and our world – as He sees them.
Lent, Day 7
Lent, Day 6
Lent, Day 5 / Be Known (2)
A Poem: Known and Free
I AM the One who knows:
Each vice that holds you in its grip,
Each lie that strikes you like a whip,
Each weakness of your foe.
I AM the One who knows:
Each time your heart seeks better things,
Each moment you turn back to Me,
Each higher place you’ll go.
So I have been,
So I will be:
The Knowing One
Who sets you free.
Lent, Day 4
A way has been made, a veil has been torn. It was made by The Way and pierced by The Truth.
And now anyone who longs to – and chooses to – can approach the Altar of God. To embrace The Life who will guide us in all that’s best.
Lent, Day 3
Too often, we find only temporary – or artificial – delight in things that cannot possibly give us lasting delight.
Because they are not THE Light.
Lent, Day 2
“From sinking sand He lifted me, with tender hand He lifted me; from shades of night to planes of light, O praise His name, He lifted me!”
Charles H. Gabriel (1856-1932)
Lent, Day 1
The Journey Begins:
The way up to Zion is not smooth or even, but the Word says the heart consumed with a pilgrimage mindset will be filled with delight.
Even in the ashes, even in the suffering, I see hope and holy longing (in diverse hearts of the young and old) climbing to the dwelling place of God, just as the wisdom and strength of His light and the streams of His delight rain (and reign) down on us along this desert road.
Be Known (1)
Why are we so relieved when someone we trust listens to our awkward confession and still “gets” us without judgement…yet we are often fearful to say what we really think/feel to people we are unsure of?
Why do we feel at home with people who know our quirks…and feel we must put on a mask with those who don’t know us well, lest they should find us quirky (or worse)?
Why do we repeatedly attempt to hide from God just like our earliest ancestors did, even when we will always be as unsuccessful at it as they were?
For a hundred different reasons at different times, we do not want to be known – at least, not really. And yet, if we could listen to the nearly-suffocated voice of the core deep inside us, we might hear it whisper, “Who would really want to know me here? And if they did, would they love me still?”
Ironically, this being known so intimately by God and others with the knowing coated in fear-abolishing love: this is the most important desire of the human heart.
(I guess that’s why I had to write about being loved before I could write about being known. I would be petrified of the knowledge that God knows me fully if I could not hold onto the promise that He loves me even more.)
This month and next month, I will continue my weekend posts, further exploring what it means to be known intimately and to know intimately. But I am going to take it one step further.
Lent begins this week. Upon reflection, this year I have decided not to abstain from something. Instead, I am choosing to feast, to immerse myself in this idea of being known – and not just being known, but being delighted in.
I know deep in my gut that God knows me. But what really boggles my mind is the thought that He, knowing me, would actually and always, delight in me.
And He, the master of the universe, asks me to know Him. And to delight in Him.
Breathtaking.
So, I hope you will join me on a journey. Starting daily, from March 6 through the Lenten season, I will post a picture of a new, simple piece of word art reflecting some aspect of this wonderful mystery: God’s delight in us and our delight in Him.
Most days there will be no commentary. But I hope that pausing to see each image will give your soul a sip of nectar, sweetness to brighten your being from the inside out. Please drink deeply with me and share with others who may need to see the images too.
Let’s be known – and delighted in – together.
Love (4)
I recently heard a very challenging sermon given at my church, by guest speaker Caleb Kaltenbach, entitled: From “Grace OR Truth” to “Grace AND Truth.” (You can find the file to watch/download at calvary.ch if you are interested.) After listening and reflecting on some of my own life experiences, I was inspired to write a poem.
And I think sharing it today would be a great way to wrap up this month of posts about loving others. For Jesus showed by example that anyone who would follow Him must love as He loved (and still loves).
That’s relatively easy to do when we’re loving someone who we trust or who shares our interests or who is nice or who puts/keeps us in a good mood or who will do something wonderful for us. But it’s pretty stinkin’ hard to love someone who doesn’t like us or who has views opposite our own or who knows how to push our buttons or who hurts us with their words/actions or who always brings some inconvenience into our lives.
Yet the second group, those are the ones we are especially called to love, and who arguably need love the most. In fact, if we are honest, we’ll admit we have certainly been in that second group for someone else–and perhaps we still are.
As Caleb said, it’s not easy, but real “love is the tension of grace and truth.” So the next time you’re having a hard time loving someone, perhaps you can join me in this practice: envision yourself inviting them to meet you on a bridge where the tension of those two all-important virtues spans a chasm of hate and divisiveness.
The Bridge
(John 1:4, John 10:10, Psalm 36:9, 2 Corinthians 5:20-21, Psalm 2:11-12, 1 Timothy 6:18-19)
Hello, it’s me, the one who refuses to give up,
the one reaching out an imperfect hand,
who wants to forgive and start speaking again.
I love you enough to want your best
even when your best is the harder choice.
I pray you’ll hear that love shine through
where truth and grace meet in my voice.
You were meant for something far greater than this.
Please meet me on the bridge.
Hello, it’s me, one who didn’t make the laws,
one who has no right to play the Judge,
but one who can tell how His pardon comes.
I love you enough to want your best
even when your best is the harder choice.
I pray you’ll hear that love shine through
where truth and grace meet in my voice.
You were meant to be renewed and cleansed.
Please meet me on the bridge.
Hello, it’s me, the one who weeps at beauty’s kiss,
one who found light, light to shatter the dark,
who now holds up that beacon from my heart.
I love you enough to want your best
even when your best is the harder choice.
I pray you’ll hear that love shine through
where truth and grace meet in my voice.
You were meant to grasp life and truly live.
Please meet me on the bridge.
A Hopeful Interlude
Some winters feel more brutal than others. This one seems to be hitting many in my acquaintance quite hard. Between unusually long stretches of deep cold, wave after wave of substantial snow, and a bunch of really tough life circumstances, our hearts cry for a reprieve.
We are hoping for spring to arrive sooner than later. And we are looking for reminders that hoping for what we do not yet have is still a worthy pursuit.
In that light, I took time last night to finish painting this piece. And I wrote a poem to go with it.
This breaks up my series on “love” a bit, but I sensed there might be a few people who needed to see/read it now. (And, after all, isn’t it true that sometimes our ability to keep loving is fueled primarily by the hope that it’s simply our soul’s winter and things will eventually be resolved?)
Poem: Branch, Bud, Blossom
While I have sight,
let me appreciate
each fragile-vibrant blossom
reaching up
and out
in communion
with her neighbors
and the Giver of her
woven, cherished beauty.
And if these eyes
should ever dim,
let me recall solemnly
breathtaking snows,
so silent
and heavy,
to mute
Earth’s collective cry
of hope for a season…
only a season.