before the color fades …

Oh the beauty of God’s creation. It cannot be replicated. Only received as grace. Shalom!

 

tree 6 2014 tree 8 2014tree 2 2014tree 9 2014tree 7 2014tree 4 2014tree 5 2014

scattered pilgrims

nick and colton basketball hoop

They went back home this weekend, or so they say. Really, they went back to the place of my rooting—those first twenty-one years’ worth of soul-shaping that had me running up and down the roads of that little Bluegrass town. The three of us lived there again for a season following the divorce, right across the street from the place I’d called home for over two decades. The old basketball hoop down the road still hangs as a memorial to a season once lived; it shows signs of aging. I suppose we do as well. After twenty years of being away, age is bound to show up, revealing the weathering of these many years.

I, too, made my way home this weekend. Not to the Bluegrass, although a large part of me was there with my sons as they reminisced about their yesterdays. Instead, I made my way to parents’ home. They’re within a hundred mile reach, so home was doable. Mom and Dad left the front porch light on for me; that’s what makes it home. Not the address. I’ve never lived beneath this roof for more than a night or two. It’s the light and the warmth and the glow of the two lives who, more than a place, have shaped my soul for the grace-journey. Wherever they land, that will always be home to me.

front porch lightMany say that I’m blessed to be able to make the journey. They remind me to take advantage of this time. I know. No one has to prompt me to go home. The desire burns within me … every single day of my life.

My other three – Billy, Jadon, and Amelia? Well, they went to a conference, youth rally this weekend. They call the event Pilgrimage.

Fitting. It all fits, don’t you see? This is the journey before us.

A pilgrimage of faith. A search and discovery mission. A deep, eternal yearning for home. For our roots. For the streets that look familiar and for the front porch light and a front porch Dad that greets us as family and who says, “Welcome home!”

It won’t be long, friends. Just a moment or two from now. A season just beyond this one when our searching will gave way to welcome. A time when we’ll no longer have to gas up our tanks, clock the miles, and go in search of memories.

Until then, I imagine we’ll keep up the exploration. I don’t think we can help ourselves. The yearning is bred deeply within us. Ours is an inheritance of eternal significance that fuels our hearts forward for the warmth and welcome of a Father’s love.

This is the journey before us. This is the pathway home. Walk on, pilgrims of faith, even when your steps are scattered and seemingly out of balance. The search is the thread that keeps us tethered to forever.

A weathered basketball hoop. A front porch light. A crowd of thousands crying out to their Maker.

This is home within reach. This is heaven on earth.

Peace for the Journey,

 Books for Christmas and beyond - includes an autographed copy of Peace for the Journey and Beyond the Scars ($20 – includes shipping / USA orders only).

book combo




 

stretched, wrecked, and waiting …

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It’s the heart stuff that concerns me most … both theirs and mine.

Growing pains.

A soul stretch.

A sacred wrecking … reckoning.

We’re in this together, and (at this point in the journey) we’re standing at a crossroads. Either we’re going deeper into this holy cleansing or we’re going to settle for a duct tape finish—a patching and pasting to hold us together for a good enough ending that will send us on our separate ways at the end of May … unaffected and unchanged … hearts hardened by the process instead of hearts beautifully shaped because of it.

I know what I want, but I cannot make that choice for them. They will have to decide if our temporary union is worth it … worth the pain, the stretching, the wrecking, and the reckoning.

And there’s the rub.

Nine weeks in, and we’re standing at a crossroads. I can feel it in my spirit, and I suppose that’s why I’ve spent the last hour gathering my tears into my lap. I think a couple of my students have already made up their minds about “us” – choosing less instead of best.

So I beat my heart up a little tonight, wondering how I can change their minds … how I can persuade them to stay with me on the path a while longer until the stretching and the wrecking reckons into beauty—a touchable, tangible splendor that affirms and validates the hard work of relationship.

Isn’t that what we all need? Want? Affirmation that our hearts are growing rather than shrinking? Don’t we want to get past duct tape and good enough so that we might take hold of healing and holiness?

To be fair, when I was their age, I didn’t know I wanted to be holy. I suppose I spent the first three decades of my life settling for duct tape finishes. But then God offered me something better, something lasting—a relationship that went beyond holding me together to a relationship that grew me up on the inside … that made me a better me … that changed my way of thinking and my way of doing. And this was and is the beautiful splendor that speaks strength to my soul each day. It keeps me coming to the table of grace and offering my fifteen students a choice for a similar portion.

If only they could understand what’s at stake—what’s to be loss and all that’s to be gained from their being genuinely loved by this grace-veteran who boasts enough battle scars to give me some street-cred. If only they would take my word on it … that we’re worth it and that, by the end of May, we’re going to be better versions of ourselves because of the time we’ve given to one another.

But they might not see things my way. They may choose a lesser path.

And so, on this night when I have more questions than answers, less control rather than more, I will allow my tears to soften the hardness that’s creeping in to my heart, and I will pray for my fifteen and their deliberations as they stand with me at this crossroads. Come tomorrow morning, I’ll lean in a little closer to the wrecking that’s taking place near our hearts, and I’ll offer them the choice to join me on the holiness road.

God will be with us, and he will be faithful to complete in us that which we cannot yet see in us.

A glorious reckoning. A splendor of his making.

This I believe in.

This I will fight for.

All the way through ‘til May.

PS: Sarah is the winner of Laura’s book, Playdates with God. Congrats! It will be coming to you via Amazon.

Photo credit: petarpaunchev / 123RF Stock Photo

my playdate with God (and book give-away) …

playdates with God

I watched her as she read to me a chapter from her book. It was her “tucking in time” and she closed the day with words softly spoken in her sweet, Amelia voice. I just listened – the holiest response I could give to the moment.

This was the highlight of my week. Really. After listening to the voices of fifteen others drown out my own, hers was a welcome refrain. She didn’t whine or whimper or demand her due. Instead, she just gave me words from her purest place, and I was transported to wonder and awe. All I could do was receive them and thank God for this close proximity to the sacred. That time with my daughter smelled and felt like heaven on earth – a moment that slowed down long enough for me to capture God’s kingdom come, coming down and tapping me on the shoulder.

Qualitative time vs. quantitative time. My friend, Laura Boggess, speaks to this kingdom pause in her new book, Playdates with God (Leafwood Publishers, 2014):

“There are two kinds of time talked about in the Bible. Chronos time, which is calendar time—the gradual ticking away of the minutes—and kairos time, which can be thought of as the appointed time—the right time. Kairos time cannot be measured; it is qualitative rather than quantitative; it is the perfect moment—for such a time as this. … When we speak of the kingdom of God being here—right now—we are talking about kairos time. …

Haven’t I felt the kairos? My eyes are open to the knowledge that each moment passing is unlike any other, and so I grab each one by the beard . . . slow it down and look it in the face. Those are the moments when time stands still, when beauty seems to speak in ways that make my heart weep, when I feel the presence of God like a second skin ….” (p.134-135)

Like a second skin. Yes, this is the beauty I felt while listening to my daughter read her words to me. In that moment, nothing meant more to me. Nothing. It was peace on earth; a life could finish well on a note like that, all wrapped up in tranquility and perfect perspective.

These are the moments when the kingdom is most real to me – when I see God in flesh, spirit, and truth. This is how I know he’s real and that he is very much touch with what’s going on in my life.

I want more of them – more playdates with God. More times of noticing with him. More times of wondering with him. More times of celebrating with him . . . his peace on earth. I imagine we all want that, don’t we? And I imagine we all have that from time to time – kairos moments reminding us that there is but a thin veil between our now and our next and that, every now and again, God isn’t reluctant to lift the veil so that our hearts and souls might see beyond the temporal to take hold of the eternal.

Laura’s book is a field guide to this journey of discovery. Certainly, we don’t need to read a book to schedule a playdate with God. But I wonder … how many of us are really taking the time to pencil him into our busy schedules? Playdates with God is a generous, grace-filled invitation to do just that, to find God’s kingdom in the here-and-now, right where we are. In reading Laura’s thoughts and in hearing about her adventures with the Father, my heart is inclined toward the same. My hunger is not unlike hers – to seek, to find, and to hold holy moments that lead me straight into the arms of Jesus.

And when that happens, friends, the veil is lifted. What is unseen is seen and what is yet to come, comes.

The kingdom of God is near. It’s here. So, go ahead. Schedule your playdate with God and find rest for your souls. His holy playground awaits your presence. His presence is already there. As always …

Peace for the journey,


PS: Leave a comment to enter a give-away for Laura’s book. I’ll pick a winner with my next post. The winner of Peace for the Journey is Beth Herring.

lift them up

lift them up

 

“ … lift them up.”

Chambers’ words have shadowed my heart today. They’ve stepped all around and into my thoughts, throwing down the gauntlet for obedience. I warm to them, slowly melt into them knowing that they are the remedy for this stretched-out submission to this certain calling. I need to remember why I’m doing what I’m doing. Simply and, yet, profoundly to …

lift them up.

Where?

To a higher place, a kingdom that includes them. A kingdom that some of them have yet to see, but a kingdom that I know, from time to time, shakes the soil of their souls and softens their heart-ground to receive the Father’s heart-seeds.

There are days when I forget to lift. Some days, there is less lifting and more maintaining … less holding up and more holding on for dear life. Some days, I think I’ll crumble beneath the weight of this load. These are heavy souls, freight far too weighty for my weakened resolve. Still and yet, I choose to try because there is a lot to lose by not doing so—another year of lateral living, seeing only at eye level instead of seeing from a higher perspective.

I will not cripple the view from the top. Instead, I will do my best to take them there – to give them that better vantage point. One by one, heart to heart, hand in hand, and crawling on all fours if need be. I will carry them forward and upward. Jesus Christ has done the same for me. Should I do any less?

I don’t often think of myself as a saint. I’m just doing my part on this little parcel of ground, this tiny speck of earth that lies beneath my feet and within reach of my heart. Are you doing the same? Doing your part in your little corner of the world? Are you …

lifting them up?

Lift them up, friends. Show them life from up above. Extend your heart and extend your reach so that others might be elevated into the kingdom sphere and might begin to experience a little bit of heaven on earth. There is no greater joy than participating in the King’s work. This is the highest privilege of a saint, the gift of sacred participation – when you and I link arms with the Father to lift the veil, revealing eternity.

Warm words, indeed. May they melt into your heart and surround your witness with the strength of our King. Lift often. Lift willingly. Lift always in the mighty name of Jesus. Somebody needs to see the kingdom today. As always …

Peace for the journey,

Do you or someone you know need a lift today? I’m giving away two copies of Peace for the Journey. I pray it will be an encouragement to weary souls. Leave a comment today indicating your interest. Share about the give-away on your social media sites, and you’ll receive an additional entry for this give-away (indicate your participation in the comment section below).