A Father's Love

[written a couple weeks ago]

I toss. I turn. I pray.

My pillow grows wet with tears.  

I have a friend on the line. 

And I am desperately clinging to the feet of Jesus. 

Desperately. 

Hours pass. And yet I wrestle. 

And suddenly I am struck by this thought.

If I can so love, be so invested in one individual, if my heart can feel like it is breaking for one…

What does my Father's heart feel like when He has seven billion people to cry for?

I'm thankful He loves. I'm thankful He cares. 

And I'm thankful He sees where I do not. 

A Different Dream

Sometimes I wonder how it can be so hard to let a dream die.

Just when you think you've come to the point of full surrender, of letting go, you wake up and realize that deep within the dream is still there. Suppressed maybe, but very much still there despite all heart-searing efforts to remove it.

It's an interesting feeling when your heart plays tug-of-war. One half sings. The other half cries. Yet in the end it knows what is best. It knows what will hurt least in the long run.

And that is to surrender. To let the dream die.
Because the dream was never mine to cherish in the first place…

In fact, no dream is mine to cherish.
No dream but One.

And so I pray a simple prayer.

Lord, make my life Your dream. And make my dream, You.

Photo Credit: Michel Lee

To Be the Revolution…

I lie on my bed, tears trickling down my cheeks, my mind reeling with questions. I feel so ashamed. Ashamed of every fiber of my existence, of what I claim to own. 

I cry. I pray. I ponder. My life, my actions must be in harmony… And I'm finding they don’t go deep enough… I feel ashamed and rightly so. 

Have I been living a lie all this time? 

My flesh denies the thought. Yet I believe it to be partially accurate, for if I was truly living, breathing, absorbing the words I speak, my life would be reflecting Christ more fully than it is today. I need a reset, a hard reset. And that, by God’s grace, I’m going to have. 

Away with a life of mediocrity. In with a life of revolution.

These are the things I want. These are the things I need. These are the things I crave. 

To be the revolution I want to see.

More Victory

{Jeremiah 41}

I struggle to find a lesson within this chapter of bloodshed and warfare. It is rather gruesome.

But then I get to thinking… 

What if I fought the figures of sin in my life as viciously as Ishmael fought the supporters of Gedaliah? 

What if I was not satisfied until every one of my sinful enemies was vanquished and buried beneath the ground? 

What if I didn’t consider defeat as an option?

I don’t know. My Commander has been teaching me battle tactics, but I think I need to step up the intensity. 

More blood. More sweat. More prayer. More tears. 

And all this for more victory.

"You Shall Call Me, Father…"

{Jeremiah 3}

Christ’s chosen bride, His beloved, has utterly violated the sacred vows of marriage—despite the fact that an incalculable dowry had been given to claim her as His own.
Time after time she has renounced her promise to faithfulness and fallen into a life of whoredom and harlotry.

See the tears running down the face of the Bridegroom as He watches her turn from the path of righteousness up a winding path leading to groves of trees waving on the hilltops.

“My beloved,” He cries, “Return unto me, for I am merciful and will not remain angry with you. Only acknowledge your sins and return unto me, for I am married to you…”

Still married after such absolute desecration of sacred trust? How can that be possible?
No earthly marriage patterned after such disloyalty would endure.

Yet divorce is not an option for Christ. He will ever remain faithful to His bride.
And the Father, watching this abomination to His Son’s reputation, what will He do?

He claims her still, as His daughter.
“You shall call me, Father…”

There is no greater love.

no. greater.

No More Tears

It's not easy to say goodbye and leave familiar faces, places, and memories behind. And there is valid cause for tears… Because we were not created to ever say goodbye. Earth was created to be a haven of companionship, friendship, togetherness…

Yet I cannot, will not, allow my tears to obliterate the signs of His love…
It's everywhere.

In countless boxes stacked inside a quickly-emptying basement and spread outside on the grass.
In many willing hands and hearts.
In meals generously prepared by loving hands.

In the laughter with a precious little friend I love dearly.
In a heart to heart talk with my friend of 12 years around the subdivision block one last time.
In joint tears while embracing my adopted little "sister."

 

In a big yellow truck branded, Penske.
In many passing miles, slowly carrying me away from one of the only homes I've known.
In phone calls and chats with friends.

In quiet silence driving a loaded van and trailer behind the truck.
In sunlight streaming through the hotel window.
In a song reminding me to Be Still…

His love is impossible for me to ignore. I see the fingerprints of His infinite care for me everywhere I look. And this reassurance encourages me to never stop trusting, never stop singing…

I miss you my friends… And although I definitely hope to see each of you again still on earth, my greatest desire is to be reunited forever in the heavenly courts above.

"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." {Revelation 21:4}

No more parting. No more tears.

Oh I long for that place…

From Broken to Beautiful

I look down into dark beautiful eyes, still searching to answer the question of focus and stroke incredibly soft olive skin. I gently finger a dainty nose, delicate ears and tiny lips, all the while fighting mixed emotions.

(Forgive iPhone quality!) :)

Tears from a broken heart and smiles from a heart full of joy clash violently.  Why should such a tiny bundle of joy, still several ounces shy of five pounds, have to face such an uncertain future?

Merely the meaning of her name (unconsciously chosen) encourages me to trust her in my Father’s hands. Kirstin—follower of Christ.

I heard a staggering statistic the other week.
One out of three children grow up without their biological father. One in three.
The United States is the leading country for fatherless homes.

If that doesn’t cause your eyes to become moist, read it again.

Our fathers, our leaders are absent.
It is no wonder society is so utterly degraded and our nation is spinning out of control.

 
Yet sitting in the darkened NICU hospital room, gazing into dark little eyes, I can’t help but be amazed at God’s creative power. How He can turn the results of the ugliest situation into something so perfect, so completely dependent, so innocent.

And I ponder how God can take me, an ugly result of sin and transform me into an innocent little girl, learning to be entirely reliant on Him, entitled to be adopted in His family, to become an heir of eternal riches.

Yes, He makes all things beautiful in His time…

I choose to trust Him.


{Note: This is not my baby, just the daughter of a friend.}