Hurry: To Perform With Undue Haste

 

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.

Proverbs 31:25

 

 

Lord God, you who are source of all truth, wisdom, justice, and love...Help me constantly to rest my life upon the eternal foundations of your love and presence. Save me from haste and confusion, from wrongful desire, and the net of evil. Through the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, enlighten, instruct, and guide me all the day long. In the name of Jesus. Amen.

(A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants)

 

 

Do you ever wake up in a hurry? I do. My mind is whirring through all the activities inviting my participation, all the obligations awaiting my attention and all the unfinished projects crying out for my resolution. Some mornings, I rush through breakfast, complain to my husband for the umpteenth time about some nagging problem while sipping our morning coffee, and then dive into some pile of work.

 

Neglecting to be still.

 

Then His tender voice whispers, "Kel, Kel."

 

And I press on in my task. He taps me on the shoulder, and I reply "Oh, it's you LORD, what do you want?"

 

Then I pause, and He gently asks His routine question and offers His perennial invitation:

 

"Why all the bluster and rush? Come sit, awhile. Listen. Enjoy my Presence."

 

So I do. And then the Holy Spirit leads me into green pastures, besides still waters and onto paths of righteousness, and all the while He restores my soul.

 

One of the pastures I found myself in today was 1 Samuel 3. The story of God revealing Himself to the young Samuel. At this point Samuel didn't really know God. And it says that "the word of the Lord was rare in those days . . ." (1 Samuel 3:1). Everything was dimming. Eli, Samuel's mentor had poor eyesight, and the lamp in the temple was burning low where Samuel slept in the presence of the ark of the covenant.

 

In this rare and dimly lit moment, God calls out to Samuel. 

 

Samuel thinks Eli is calling him. And it takes Eli, dull Eli with dimming eyesight, three times before he realizes it must be God calling out to Samuel. And so he tells Samuel, go back and if you hear the voice again, this is what you should say: "Speak, LORD, for your servant hears." And Samuel goes back, and thankfully God calls him again, and God reveals Himself to Samuel and tells him some difficult news. Eli is to be judged for his negligence. Samuel reluctantly divulges this word to Eli, which Eli appears to accept with no argument.

 

Samuel continues to grow and be discipled in the truth by the LORD himself. "And the LORD appeared . . . and the LORD revealed himself to Samuel . . . by the word of the LORD." (1 Samuel 3:21)

 

Oh, how I desire to be a beloved Bride, who hears and listens to her Beloved Jesus! That He would continue to call out to me even in the midst of my hurried moments, moments that really never need to be hastily taken in the first place. That I would start my day, waiting as a disciple to listen for words for the weary. (Isaiah 50:4)

 

 

May my heart readily respond:

"Speak, LORD, for your servant hears!"

 

 

In This City

For this world is not our home; we are looking forward to our city in heaven,

which is yet to come.
(Hebrews 13:14 NLT)

 

I took the Metrolink to our fair city of St. Louis today. It was an expirement of sorts, a hometown adventure. I was seeking inspiration away from my usual surroundings.

I am not a city girl and I am no longer a country girl. I am a just another suburbanite looking for adventure and glitz in the city. I am a writer, and I have come to realize that as a writer, much of my life is spent in the imagination.

As some of my friends can attest, I come up with these crazy, romantic ideas, like becoming a world traveller in my own city or starting a hiking club or designing a "Bible as Literature" book club. I have a lot of ideas, not that all of them pan out

For my latest adventure, I am recreating the atmopshere of A Writer's Paris, here in St. Louis. I mean, we do have some French roots, thus our name, St. Louis, from the Louisana Purchase and all that. In Paris, people go to the train stations to people watch and enjoy art, why not see if I could do the same here?

I was a little giddy, wondering what or who I would encounter. In light of my hobo honeymoon, I chose to go down to Union Station, our famous train depot and home to Union Station Hotel. I hadn't been in a while, so I was pleasantly surprised to find the food court still open and a few people milling around. Mostly locals and some college basketball fans-- this weekend the city is hosting Arch Madness. I did  find a few people to watch and very little art, except for the train memorabilia and the architecture in the hotel lobby.

For lunch, I sat at a cafe table in the sunny atrium. I ate my sandwich, while trying to scribble in my journal. I mostly wrote about how I didn't like my new journal or my new pen, and kept fighting the urge to just go home and be comfortable in my blue thinking chair.

Since I was getting restless, I checked my map for the location of the newly renovated Central Library, then I walked over to check it out. There were some tourists on Market Street walking toward the Arch and a few folks sitting on the benches in Keener Park Plaza.

The difference between St. Louis and other cities that I have visited is the people. Downtown St. Louis is sparsely populated. It feels more like walking through a deserted town, than the cosmopolitan feel of New York City and Chicago. It just lacks volume. Hardly any cars, so you feel foolish waiting to cross the street. The people who are out and about look warily at each other. I found myself mumbling to myself and looking at the skyline. Do people do this in Paris?

Inside the library was quiet, too. A beautiful building with stained glass windows, marble staircases and dark mahogeny tables blended with some modern rooms and seating areas. A potential place for undistracted writing.

But before I could find a writing spot, I noticed on the ornate wall clock that it was 2:10pm, so I quickly peeked around some more rooms and then headed back to the Union Station Metrolink. My surburban sensibility didn't want to get caught in rush hour traffic on 70 west.

All in all it was a good day: out in the sunshine, people watching and riding the Metrolink. (For $4.50 you can take a roundtrip to many locations in the Greater St. Louis area. I was thinking it would be worth it just to sit on the train and read. Or eavesdrop on conversations, which I know is not polite, but who knows what great dialogue I might catch for a novel.)

Back in my SUV, I tuned into our local Christian station. I smiled as they were playing God of This City by Chris Tomlin.

Greater things
Have yet to come
And greater things
Are still to be done in this city
(Chris Tomlin)

 

 

Unfold: To Open Out Gradually; Become Known

The unfolding of your words gives light;
it gives understanding to the simple.

(Psalm 119:130 NIV)

 

 

 

 

With God there is always more unfolding; that which we can glimpse of the divine is always exactly enough, and never enough.

(Kathleen Norris)

 

 

Everything I needed for today was enough. I am thankful for friends to pray with for our adult children, for fun lunch places that help others (The Women's Exchange), for thrift stores that offer two way charity, gifting me with bargains and the proceeds that go to help others in need (The Scholarshop and The Resale Shop), and time to just read and relax in solitude this evening, eating leftovers from lunch for dinner.

 

(The above links to the restaurant and thrift stores are for my local readers or anyone passing through St. Louis. The Women's Exchange has been helping underpriveleged women make an income since 1883. I love their grilled cream cheese with green olive and pimento sandwich. Part of your meal costs go to help women in St. Louis. Right now they are located on Clayton Rd, but are due to move this summer to a larger space at The Colonial Market Place near Ladue and 170.)

 

 

My True Love Gave To Me

 

Therefore He is able to save completely those who come to God through Him, because He always lives to intercede for them.

(Hebrews 7:25 NIV)

 

 

As I reflect back on this day, I see so many gifts from the Beloved...almost like the twelve days of Christmas all over again.

At the first watch of the morning my true love gave to me breakfast with my nieces and nephews and the brisk joy of being the
bus stop "mom" in the cold.

At the second watch of the morning, I came home for a second cup of coffee and sadly noticed that my two goldfish were dead. (Not a gift, but a fresh grief that fit in with something else I was contemplating later in the day.)

At the third watch of the morning, I started a time of praying following a format from The Hour That Changes the World  by Dick Eastman. He recommends twelve aspects of prayer that start and end with praise. I don't follow this format everyday, but the twelve aspects of prayer are a challenging and thorough pattern to follow.

Lately when I observe the twelve steps, I draw a picture to record my "prayer notes." In honor of my hobo honeymoon, I sketched a roundhouse, where trains are moved in a circle to change tracks.

I could never share all the things I gleaned today in one post. I took a trip through Mounce’s Complete Expository Dictionary of Old &New Testament Words by William D. Mounce to look up the meaning of the twelve aspects of prayer. The best word I found was the Hebrew word for "confess", which transliterates to "yada." It made me smile because, I thought maybe God hears us say "yada, yada, yada," when we keep coming back with the same sins to confess over and over again. Not that sin is a joke, but it did give me a giggle.

Okay, it's getting late and to list twelve more gifts from today might get tedious for you, even though I found each one perfectly thoughtful and fitted for me.

At the twelfth watch of the evening, my true love gave to me a night to cherish. We went to our local church to worship and share communion with the congregation. I joined my sister and her four kids, who had various levels of response to the service from quiet observation to overwhelmed by the loudness to avid interest to enthusiastic dancing and jumping. The youngest niece (5) thought it great fun to dance, jump and clap to the music and the oldest (11) even joined in for awhile.

It was a joy to freely express our adoration and devotion before the Lord. On the way home, my youngest niece and I opted to walk home. She was barefoot, because her "high heels" hurt her feet, but she is NOT phased by the cold. I called her our "wee Scottish bairn." Once we navigated the parking lot and got on the sidewalk, she started running down the hill toward her street, so I joined her. After a few hundred feet, I offered her my socks, and she put them on and took off running again, squealing: "I'm a wee Scottish bairn and a wee Scottish bairn has to do what she has to do." And I shouted behind her, " I love you, Loryn!" "You love God!" "You're the best!" What a way to finish a beautiful evening abandoning ourselves to the Beloved.

Another touching moment was during communion, when she whispered loudly to me, while pointing up at the stage, "Aunt Kel, when I grow up, I want to be like that man." She was pointing at the pastor, who was leading us in communion. I asked her later, why she wanted to be like that man. She said, "Because I want to learn about God." What a wee delight, she is!

Leaning, Leaning, Leaning on the Everlasting Arms

The eye is the lamp of the body.

If your eyes are good,

your whole body will be full of light.
(Matthew 6:22 NIV)

I had a little scare this morning. My vision was impaired. I felt like darkness was closing in on me. I told my husband, and thought we might end up in urgent care before the morning was over. In a panic I called my sister, who is a nurse, and she suggested I eat something. In minutes, my vision was restored.

But in those moments, when I was losing my sight (that's how it felt) I was quite terrified, and cried out to the Beloved to heal me. And He did. Apparently, darkening vision is a effect of low blood sugar. After breakfast, I decided to curl up on the couch, watching the snow softly fall, and asked my Beloved:

What kind of honeymoon is this? I thought we were going to go explore the town and write and have a grand adventure.

My expectations and reality don't always merge the way I might like.

So here, the Beloved, once again encouraged me to be still. To spend the day at home with Him, just listening, watching and capturing moments. So after I regained my strength, I nested.

Here are some captured moments from my camera this morning. I think with the vision scare, I wanted to use my eyes.

These snapshots are my way of saying "Thank You" to Jesus for good eyes. Oh, how He loves you and me!

 

"Joy is always a promise."

(Madeline L'Engle)

 

 

Quiet Listening Music.

 

 

Our cat who insists on stealing MY thinking chair.

 

 

A pile of library books to dream about

the St. Louis adventures ahead. 

 

 

"His love is as gentle

as freshly fallen snow,

His joy is lovely as winter's glow,

His peace is the quiet place

our hearts can go."

 

(quote on the pillow given to me by a dear friend,

who knows I often languish during the winter :)

A Noble Wife Who Can Find?

 

She does him good, and not harm,

all the days of her life.

(Proverbs 31:12 ESV)

 

 

 

 

 

As I have embarked on this Lenten "hobo honeymoon," I've wondered what kind of bride am I for Jesus?

 

Please keep in mind that the metaphor for the Bride of Christ is not just about me as an individual, but for the whole church. (See Ephesians 5:22-33).

 

However, as I am a member of this family called the Bride, I desire to live out the qualities that would be considered praiseworthy in His eyes.

 

Often the poem about the excellent wife in Proverbs has been used as a litmus test for the ideal godly woman. But lately I have noticed  a different perspective. The Proverbs woman in some ways can be compared to the church, and her activities give insight into ways to honor Her Bridegroom.

 

In the middle of the poem the poet records the central outcome of the woman's active life:

 

 

Her husband is known in the gates
when he sits among the elders of the land.

(Proverbs 31:23 ESV)

 

 

Am I making Jesus known where I live? Am I offering good to Him? Am I harming His reputation with my words or the way I treat others?

 

 

 

Mercy There Was Great

 

 

 

Answer me, Lord,

out of the goodness of your love;
in your great mercy turn to me.

(Psalm 69:16 NIV)

 

 

 

A bittersweet thought crossed my mind this morning as I pondered the above image: How would I spend this Lenten "honeymoon" with my Beloved, if I knew that He was facing certain death 26 days from today?

 

 

As we journey toward Calvary, how will I bear what Jesus was going through those last days on earth? Will I accompany Him to the cross, clinging to His side, hanging on His every word, pouring out my adoration and even mourning with tears at His feet?



 

 

Linking with:

 

Rendezvous: A Lover's Meeting

My Beloved spoke, and said to me:
"Rise up, my love, my fair one,
And come away."

 

(Solomon 2:10 NKJV)

 

 

. . . rendezvous, French for "a lover's meeting." The word literally means, "present yourselves." In that literal translation is an excellent instruction on how to pray.

(Edward Hays, A Lenten Hobo Honeymoon)

 

 

 

 

On the first Friday of the Month, Dawn and Susie encourage us to randomly choose an entry from one of our journals to share with the community over at Beneath the Surface: Breath of Faith.

 

As part of my "hobo honeymoon," this was a nice trip down memory lane, as today I randomly chose a journal that I kept the summer of 2010. That summer I had the joy of visiting my sister and her family in Scotland.

 

Part of my time there included taking a trek on my own along the Fife Coastal Path. Those two days hiking alone with the Beloved will always be a treasured memory of our relationship. When I returned home, it would have been easy to forget the "romance" of those days and neglect our relationship.

 

 

This was one of my rendezvous spots along the path,
where I met with my Beloved in Scotland.

 

The practice of keeping a journal keeps me connected to the passion of loving Jesus. It's a tangible record of our love and His companionship, as I live out this earthly trek.

 

Here's what I wrote almost 3 years ago, after I returned home from Scotland:

 

"Thank you Jesus for the invitation to come away--to live apart from the usual pressures of life. Thank you that I can be an artist. Thank you for leisure and the ability to linger in your presence. You know me inside out."

 

 

 

A little love note from Him, the verse from Solomon 2:10, precedes this entry. He continues to invite me to "come away" with Him daily in my journal and on these creative jaunts inspired by others' devotional writing.

 

Jesus and I didn't go anywhere today. We spent the morning sorting through supplies in the art room, so that we can enjoy the leisure of art journaling and collage these coming weeks.

 

He so delights for us to pursue the desires of our hearts, and He has provided for me beyond my wildest dreams. Life is not always rosy, but I have been blessed with abundant joy, even in the midst of trying times. And little reminders of His love surround me everyday.

 

 

 

Linking up with:

 

 

 

 

 

Hobo: Homeward Bound

We are here for only a moment, visitors and strangers in the land as our ancestors were before us. Our days on earth are like a passing shadow, gone so soon without a trace.

(1 Chronicles 29:15 NLT)

 

 

For the rest of the Lenten journey, I've decided to become a hobo. My good friend, Carol Ann, found a devotion with the intriguing title: A Lenten Hobo Honeymoon, written by Edward Hays. In this devotion, the author relates that the word hobo was coined as a contraction of "homeward bound." I like it! I want to live with a greater consciousness of my transitory status here on earth. I want this consciousness to inform how I live my life now.

 

So with that in mind, I am adding this devotion to my stack.  The book invites me to see myself as a sojourner longing for home, as well as a newly wed bride, who savors every waking moment with her Bridegroom. An interesting combination to be sure, but the unlikely companionship of these two words, challenges me to take my eyes off of me and put them back on the Beloved Son of God.

 

 

 

I have always wanted to pick up and just go see the world. And while I can't just leave my husband with TV dinners and hop a train, I can imagine what it would be like to start each day wondering where my Beloved Jesus will invite me to go next. As an artist and writer, I have been looking forward to dedicating the next month to creative pursuits.

 

Even before, Carol Ann hollered, "All Aboard!" with this gem of a devotion, I was dreaming about planning my calendar for March in such a way as to explore more of our hometown, with a heart open to where Jesus might want to go this month as we contemplate His life, passion and ressurection.

 

Here's how I want to honor Jesus for the rest of Lent:

 

1.) I'm going to continue writing letters to my Beloved Savior, little notes or poems each day to tell Him how much I love Him.

 

2.) I am going to plan several out of the ordinary day trips to explore St. Louis with the eyes of an artist/writer, rather than a tourist.

 

3.) And to top it all off, I hope to report back with some spiritual insights and a deeper love for Jesus.



Comfort: To Ease the Grief Of

 

Are the comforts of God too small for you,
or the word that deals gently with you?

(Job 15:11 ESV)

 

My reading list seems sparse this month. As I was looking at books for Lent, two titles caught my attention. One a familiar friend, the other a new acquaintance. Both books encourage writing as a way of prayer.

Love Letters to God: Deeper Intimacy Through Written Prayer (Lynn D. Morrissey)

This first book is beautiful like its author. I've read it once before, and consider Lynn a dear friend and person who has fueled my passion for journaling.

This book is more than a guide to writing your prayers to God, it is an invitation to rekindle your relationship with God as the Lover of our Souls. As I enter the pages and the stories of Lynn's adventures with God, as well as her struggles, my heart finds rest and revival at the same time. My imagination is drawn to the garden of my soul, and I long to tarry in the presence of our Savior.

Today this line, prompted a prayer of examen: "Naming our grief is the first step toward healing." That one sentence opened up a floodgate of griefs that I have been ignoring, afraid to name them for fear of being consumed by grief. The crazy thing is that the more I try not to name my griefs, the more they come out in anger and despair.

In my journal, I wrote: "My grief is . . . regret, dismay, denied, unrealistic, unnameable, transitional, disappointment based on sin, sorrow, sickness, separation and simple doubts about God's goodness." This simple act of confession brought to light what troubles me. I don't have solutions, but expressing these on paper was the first step of reaching out to God for healing and comfort.

Writing to God: 40 Days of Praying With My Pen (Rachel G. Hackenberg)

I love the simplicity of this book. The prayers recorded in this book are poetic. They have inspired me to write poem prayers. Writing poetry takes my raging thoughts and distills them down into concise, raw expressions. When I read Rachel's poem prayers and my own, I am drawn to some phrase that feeds my soul in the moment.

On the facing page of each prayer, she offers a prompt to read a Scripture and to contemplate a topic, which spurs me on to more written expressions of my heart.

In the poem, Nighttime Prayer, she explores her fear of the dark, which leads to her real fear--the fear of not being in control or able to stave off disaster that might come in the middle of the night. Early in the morning she laments, "Wide-eyed in case the uncontrollable, unthinkable happens/So I stay awake/Stay distracted/Determined not to be caught off guard by the night."

Her prayer prompt for this entry explores fear: "Write a prayer about fear, and let the presence and encouragement of God surround you with holy comfort."

Combining this reading with the quote from Love Letters about healing and grief, I noticed a connection between grief and fear.

I wrote: "My fear is . . . bound up in my grief. I fear failure, disappointing others, not keeping up, other people's opinion of me, giving up on life, disappointing others' expectations of me. I am afraid of depression, cancer, pain, failure, rejection, hope, renewal, new paths, success, criticism, praise, pride, the future, boredom, apathy, cynicism, nothingness, death, living, making mistakes. . ."

These confessions were random, yet real. Something about confessing these on paper enlarges my perspective.

My conclusion today was that I am powerless . . . and that's a good thing to know and believe, because then I cry out, "I need you, Lord Jesus!"

And He comforts me.





Linking up with:

Imagination: Creative Ability

 

And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night. And let them be for signs and for seasons, and for days and years, and let them be lights in the expanse of the heavens to give light upon the earth.”

And it was so. 

(Genesis 1:14-15 ESV)

 

 

"Can you celebrate the unknown expanse of God's imagination?"

(Rachel G. Hackenberg)

 

 

 

As I contemplated the above question, and the truth that everything belongs to God, two poem prayers flowed from my pen.

 

 

celebrate

 

 

stories untold

parables unfold

 

worlds above

kingdoms below

 

horizons expand

frontiers to explore

(borders, boundaries and limits)

 

transport us to lands unknown

 

 

 

 

everything belongs to God

 

the universe

the imagination

the narrative

the explanation

 

the soul

the seed

the expanse

the ground

 

the mind

the soil

the thoughts

the ideas (the toil)

 

the body

the fruit

the womb

the child

 

the strength

the growth

this miracle

called life

Prayer for a Winter Day

 

 

As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.

(Psalm 42:1-2 ESV)

 

 

Lord of life and love, help us to worship thee in the holiness of beauty, that some beauty of holiness appear in us. Quiet our souls in thy presence with the stillness of a wise trust. Lift us above dark moods, and the shadow of sin, that we may find thy will for our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

(From the Book of Worship)

Perfection

 

Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

(Luke 6:36 ESV)

 

 

 

 

I was reading today that the call "to be perfect just as our heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48) compares to being merciful. God's perfection reflects His character, which is "merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love." (Psalm 103:8)

 

Perfection, which means moving toward maturity and completeness, seems more attainable in light of mercy. This added nuance of becoming merciful feels more practical. I can get a handle on being "slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love."

 

I'm not saying it's my natural tendency, but becoming more like the God of mercy and love seems more likely than attaining a flawless life.

 

 

 

 



 

Never Fails

 

 

 

Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. It is, in fact, the one thing that still stands when all else has fallen.

(1 Corinthians 13:7-8 J.B. Phillips)

 

 



 

Offer: To Make Available

Love has good manners and does not pursue selfish advantage. It is not touchy. It does not keep account of evil or gloat over the wickedness of other people. On the contrary, it is glad with all good men

when truth prevails.

(1 Corinthians 13:5-6 J.B. Phillips)

 

 

 

 

Offering some prayers of devotion to our Beloved Savior:

 

 

You Offer Me Life
  

You offer me patience, when I am edgy.

You offer me kindness, when I am cantankerous.

You offer me mercy, when I am rude.

You offer me modesty, when I am smug.

You offer me a way out, when I am selfish.

You offer me repentance, when I am resentful.

You offer me a change of heart, when I’m irritable.

You offer me an eraser, when I tally up wrong.

You offer me a song, when I want to pout.

You offer me love, when I want to hide.

 

 

 

 

Snow Day Predicted

 

I love you, O my God . . .

You are my snow day, my warmth.

 

You fill me with expectation

as I wait for the promised snow

that will stop the city for a day,

then melt away.

 

For this moment let me watch and pray,

as the snowflakes float to the earth; covering,

echoing birth,

muffling death's dirge.