living God’s truth | Elaine Olsen

Chasing a Dream (part two): The Towel and the Basin

June 26, 2008

“After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ Jesus replied, ‘You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ ‘No,’ said Peter, ‘you shall never wash my feet.’

Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.’” (John 13:5-8).

I am uncomfortable with my feet. Always have been. They are functional, not pretty. I am more content with their hiding rather than their exposure. I am also not a big fan of other people’s feet. I don’t mind them if they are well groomed, but rarely do I find a pair of feet that I love.

There is one exception. I love my children’s feet. I could wash them, trim them and doctor them without hesitation. Perhaps, in part, because I was responsible for making them. My children are an extension of me, and my love for them far exceeds any other earthly loves I have known. I come close to loving them unconditionally—the way that my heavenly Father loves me and commands me to do the same for others.

But loving with agapao has always been a difficult embrace for me. It is a requiring love. A demanding love. A selfless, best-interest kind of love that leaves little room for compromise. Agapao treads hard upon the soil of my flesh and necessitates a bending of this heart that is almost always prone to standing.

And when hearts remain unbendable…remain standing and in control…loving always remains conditional and falls short of a basin and a towel.

Jesus understands our bent toward control. This is why he wrapped a towel around his outer garment, took to his knees, and began to wash away the dirty pride that framed his disciples’ steps. Their requirement in the matter?

To pause for the sacred necessary.
To yield their feet for the cleansing.
To expose their ugly and vulnerable to the Beautiful.
To understand his touch and then to go and do likewise.

That is a lot of teaching for a single meal, but in one simple act of service by Jesus, and in one simple act of submission by his followers, a model for kingdom service was birthed into the hearts of men and scripted upon the pages of holy writ for our remembrance and our modeling. And just this past weekend, I met a group of women who remembered and who rose to the task of their bending.

Their mission?

My feet and the feet of five hundred other women. The Proverbs 31 staff and volunteers came to Concord, NC, in order to serve. To wrap the towel of God’s agapao around their waists and to tenderly and gently ask for my feet and my vulnerabilities. My wants and my worries. My fears and my tears.

I gave them up willingly, for I understood the need for their washing.

They graciously received me, just as I was, and began to do what Jesus asked them to do. They loved me without conditions. They offered their support to me at every turn and encouraged me toward the equipping of God’s calling upon my life. I am forever moved by their service to me. To name them all would take too long, but there are a few women who quickly made their way into my heart because of their time and gentle care toward my many needs.

Lindsey Kane came to serve. She is one of the first women I met upon my arrival. I didn’t know her. She didn’t know me, but within minutes I knew that I liked her. A lot. In fact, she is the kind of woman that any mother would love for a daughter-in-law. I told her so. Lindsey has a passion for God and exhibits that passion through her music. She is a gifted artist and musician and a true worshipper of Jesus Christ.

Jeannie Burlowski came to serve. I sat in her seminar to learn about the in’s and out’s of publisher proposal meetings. As the seminar ended, I realized that I had some tweaking to do on my proposal “pitch” that was about to be served up to a first publisher in one hour. Jeannie found me at the couches and asked about my book. She loved the idea and helped me reformulate a few things that I would say while in my meetings. I am forever indebted to her time and to her gracious acceptance of me.

Renee Swope came to serve. I’ve known Renee only a short time, but when she saw me, she was quick to hug and to encourage. Renee models compassion. She is tender and soft spoken, but her service to humanity packs a punch like no other. She is a Godly lioness ready to take a bite out of anyone who threatens the Father’s flock. Thank you, Renee, for showing up at all the right times on more than one occasion. You offered me courage when I had little.

Susanne Scheppmann came to serve. I’d never met Susanne prior to this weekend. She led a fabulous seminar on The Pathway to Publication. Her raw and unedited truth, her humor and wit, and her grasp of the material endeared her to me for always. In a particular vulnerable moment on Saturday evening, Susanne stepped out of the service with me so that I could share my heart with her. She’s a published author who serves the body of Christ with the basin and towel…in Las Vegas no less! After meeting Susanne, I think Vegas and her are a good fit!

Lisa Whittle came to serve. I am a fan of Lisa’s blog. I have only recently come across her work, but she writes with a depth of insight that forces me to a deep pondering of the things of God. I ran into Lisa in the hallway on Saturday afternoon. I shouted out her name and introduced myself. She was a kindred spirit from the get go. Lisa has just published a book entitled, Behind those Eyes: What’s Really Going on Inside the Souls of Women. Her overriding passion in this book is to see women live authentic lives before God and with one another. What she modeled to me in our brief encounter was as authentic and genuine as Christian relationship comes. I feel so privileged to have met her and to have had my feet washed by her in a moment of great exposure.

Last, but certainly not the least of these (and not a member on the panel of speakers) my friend Joy came to serve. Her writings on her blog drew me to her, but her friendship with me in Concord is the thread that will keep me coming back for more. Joy is a quiet, yet strong woman of God. She laughed at almost everything I said; not because she had to, but because she was willing to give me the stage, and I am prone to an audience. The perceptions you have of her from reading her blog are accurate. She’s genuine through and through and even more so once you put that name with her pretty, adorable face. Indeed, she is Joy to me, and I’ll love her for life.

These few, along with many others, washed my feet this weekend. In their pretty and in their poise, they bent low to embrace God’s calling upon their lives to serve. They understand better than me, the theology of a basin and a towel. And through their grasp of my ugly, my vulnerable and my needy, I have learned a great deal about Jesus and his love.

No wonder a teaching over a last supper! Jesus knew that we needed it. And where I have lacked in its understanding, I now more fully comprehend because of the witness and bending of some new friends who have learned to love the most excellent way.

I want to be a foot washer. I want to readily embrace the towel around my waist and begin to wash the ugly away from this world, and so I pray…

Thank you, Father, for those you sent to wash my feet this past weekend. I am moved by their witness. I am changed by their love. Teach me to love this most excellent way. Let not control remain as my issue; instead, let me bend and submit my life for the washing and for the washing of others whom you place at my basin. Left to myself, Lord, I cannot adequately love, but with your promised Spirit living within, I can love to the uttermost. To limits unfathomed and to grace unmerited. Humbly I bow to the sacred privilege. Amen.

One of my favorite pasttimes in Gatlinburg…beading with Kevin at the Smokey Mountain Bead Bar!

Yes, girls…a prize is on its way!

Chasing a Dream

June 24, 2008

She Speaks, 2008

“But Jesus immediately said to them, ‘Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.’ ‘Lord, if it’s you,’ Peter replied, ‘tell me to come to you on the water.’

‘Come,’ he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.”
(Matthew 14:27-29).

I chased a dream this past weekend.

It’s been chasing me for a long season.

Instead of lurking in its shadow any longer, I turned around to embrace its linger. A faith not yet required became my requirement because long-seasoned, God-ordained dreams will only be birthed…

through an obedience that walks hard.
through a trust that roots deep.
through a faith that looks forward.

Dreams birthed in the easy and in the shallow and in the rearview mirror are never really meant to breathe. But dreams birthed in the recesses of a timeless creation are always meant to find their voice. God dreamed them first on our behalf. He planted their seeds within our souls. He tends them with his time. Not ours.

And when his time comes…when the arrival of fruition begins its advance on the horizon…God intends for us to move forward.

Come.

The language of invitation.

Come.

The word of possibility.

Come.

The breath of culmination.

Come.

The one obedience that separates a dream from its realization.

Four months ago, God whispered his words of invitation for me to come…to simply leave the comfort of my current and to embrace the tumultuous of an unchartered sea. With hard steps and loosely rooted trust, I fixed my gaze on the horizon, and I began the pilgrimage toward my dream.

I’m so glad that I did. Now, less than twenty-four hours on the other side of this boat ride, I ponder the mystery of God’s design. I think about all that I would have missed I had forgone my Father’s summons. I would have missed a holy lot. Things like…

Friendships.
Feasting.
Laughter.
True worship.
Moments at the cross.
Communion at the table of grace.
Sacred intimacy.
Tender tears.
Answered prayers.

…and

Dreams renewed, freshly rooted in my now.

Yes, I would have missed a great deal if I had knelt to my natural, and in the natural, this flesh is prone to the safety of a boat rather than the wild of a wave.

The apostle Peter understood the pull between known things and unknown embraces. Like me, he carried a few dreams in his pocket—dreams that exceeded his current and dreams that challenged his faith. If he would have stayed as he was—content on the shores of faithless fishing—he would have missed a holy lot. He would have missed Jesus. He would have missed everything. But Peter knew something that all true dreamers know.

Dreams that sing real are dreams that breathe faith.

The same is true for us. Our dreams may voice different, look different and read different, but every dream worth dreaming is always rooted in Jesus Christ. At the end of the day…at the end of a life, if our dreams aren’t scripted in the annals of heaven and through the pen of our Father, they perish as dust.

But those penned by the Almighty will remain. They will find their voice, and they will sing as eternal. And my friends, I want to sing. I want you to sing alongside. God created us for the song; thus, the chase becomes our requirement. We must press on to take hold of all of that for which our Savior has taken hold of us.

He stands on the horizon of our water’s edge. Some of us are currently sailing the calm. Some of us are living the ravages of a storm’s embrace. No matter. His word of invitation cannot be hushed by the water’s divide.

Come. Simply come.

Dreams are birthed when we step out in faith, and so I pray…

Thank you Father, for your invitation to come and to participate in your plan for my life this past weekend. Thank you for showing me your presence through your servants at every turn. Forgive me for the times when my faith is weak, and my doubt is strong. Keep my eyes fixed on your horizon, and keep my feet planted upon your waters. And when the storms rage hard and the waves beat fierce, remind me of what awaits me on the other side of my obedience. You, God, are my reward, and this heart is ready for the chase. Amen.

My new best friend, Joy, from Canada. Love u sister!

I’ve traveled far and wide in Gatlinburg to find a place to link up tonight! We’re on vacation this week; thus, my communications will be limited. Shalom!

A Sacred Replacement

June 19, 2008

“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” (Romans 12:9).

What do you do with evil?

What do you do with a story that breathes so heinous that it rocks you to core and forces you to utter words of vengeful wrath and retribution?

What do you do with a God who allows a thirteen year-old boy to die at the hands of his parents because they deemed him punishable—worthy of being tied to a tree for nearly two days in sweltering temperatures until he breathed his last? Until his wounds could no longer bleed. Until his cries for help could no longer be voiced. Until his weary soul finally succumbed to a death that, more than likely, was a welcome relief for this one who had suffered so long at the hands of those who were supposed to cradle and shape him for adulthood.

What do you do with this kind of evil?

I tell you what I did. I cried my soul dry. I got right down on my bedroom floor and pounded my fists, all the while asking my God some hard questions. I asked him why. I asked him about the possible good in the matter. I asked him for vengeance—for a tree tying to be the consequence for two adults who should have loved better. For retribution to be swift and to be hard. For a full measure of remorseful realization to become their portion. For their sleepless nights and for their tortured remembrances.

I am mad, and I don’t know what to do with these feelings. I am frustrated by them because there is little I can do to change the situation. No amount of my wishing and imagining can paint the scene as pretty. This simply is the ugly side of living, and it seems huge and uncontrollable and too big for my management. I have come to my brick wall in the matter, when turning to the right or the left yields a similar outcome—overwhelming sadness.

Neat and tidy living. That is what I’m after. Peace and love and joy and promise. A people created in God’s image through whom God’s image is easily detected. A people who get it right and who walk in the light and truth of Jesus Christ. Not a people who are hard to love and who are seemingly devoid of anything sacred.

When evil roams and rears its ugly swath of color, my dissonance finds its voice. I don’t like these challenges to my faith…to the truth that embodies a good God, despite the evil that persists. Still and yet, evil does persist, and I am forced to grapple with its insistence. God is OK with my questions and my frustrations, but if I am to grow in my perfection toward him, then I must come to some conclusions in the matter. I must move closer in my understanding of how to deal with evil’s prevalent presence.

And just last night, after my pounding and weeping and anger found their rest, I opened up God’s Word to the bookmarked section that would serve as my daily reading. Romans, chapter twelve.

God’s Word is an accomplishing Word. I choose to live the truth of Isaiah 55:10-11. No matter my frame of mind…no matter the circumstances that surround my current, I have learned to go to Scripture in my everyday. I may not always understand what I read or how it applies to my life, but I believe in the power of its effectual work. Last night stood as a relevant witness to this truth, especially as it pertained to my anger and to this world’s proclivity toward evil. In particular, the last verse of Romans 12.

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

What am I to do with evil?

I am to overcome it with its contrast—with God’s good.

This is what my Father is calling me to do with the anger that persists in my heart and with the evil that insists its voice within this world.

To overcome evil’s ill effects…to conquer and to carry off the victory in behalf of my King…I must sow goodness into the soil that boasts my current. Period. That’s it. This is what I can do to soothe the ache of the story that has rocked me to the core. And while I wasn’t able to untie the hands of an innocent child prior to his death, I can, in part, untie the hands of evil by putting my hands to the task of planting God’s good seed while I am yet alive.

Of doing some good things today and tomorrow that will supplant the enemy’s intention for evil with God’s truthful intention for all things good.

Thus, I planted a little good this day.

I prayed some prayers on behalf of innocent children everywhere and asked God for his timely return to earth so that others would be spared the anguish of a tree-tying.

I baked some brownies for a summer feeding program that our church sponsors on Wednesday evenings.

I wrote some notes of thanks that needed writing.

I bought a book that needed sending.

I played a game that needed playing.

And in the midst of all my sowing, a friend came by to tender a little goodness in my direction.

Thanks, Beverly, for a Farmer’s Market treasure!!!

Yes, I think that God is onto something, for my day is coming to an end and somewhere within the course of my planting, my anger has subsided and the enemy’s got a portion of his due. Do my simple acts of goodness replace the heinous sins committed against the innocent? Absolutely not. But they do soothe the ache of my soul and lead me closer to a grasping of a sincere and sacred love for humanity.

I hate evil. Therefore, I will cling to God’s good. And for some reason that I cannot begin to understand, my Father allows me the privilege of diffusing evil’s grip through the sowing of his sacred seed via this flesh. I want to do my part, and so I pray…

Use my heart and my hands to plant your good, Father. Make me mindful of all the ways to sow accordingly. Let me not grow weary in the doing, for in time, you’ve promised a harvest of untold measure. Protect us from evil, Lord. Protect the innocent from the schemes of the enemy. And when the hurt grows too painful to bear, remind me that evil is not my end. You are my end, Father, and you hold the final word in the matter. And thus, my hearts says, come quickly, Lord Jesus, and speak you final peace. Amen.

In regards to buying that book that needed sending, I decided to sow some good on your behalf. I numbered the comments from my “Raising Faith” six-part series, and drew a number out. #49 is the winner of my newest read, The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. Connie over at Littlerad is #49. Congratulations Connie! I can’t tell you how much I cherish this man’s poetic embrace of his terminal illness. Please send me your snail mail via my e-mail on the side bar, and I’ll get you your book ASAP!

Also, I am headed to She Speaks/She Writes this weekend in Charlotte, so I will be absent for a few days. My family is on vacation next week, and I will try and post from the road. Be blessed in all your doings this weekend. Sow some goodness for God’s sake and for evil’s defeat. Shalom!

Posturing Our Hearts for a Sabbath Rest

May 31, 2008

“Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.” (Genesis 2:1-3).

It’s coming around again. An ending to a week that has just barely begun. I couldn’t have accurately forecasted its path seven days ago because chaotic living has become my norm. Most days spend as a blur, and by week’s end, exhaustion finds its bed within my weary frame.

I am tired, and I am in need.

My Father knows my requirement, and thus he gives me permission for a Sabbath pause—a gift of rest consecrated and set apart for my ceasing from the ordinary in order to partake of the extraordinary.

The problem is…

I rarely take him up on his gift. And tonight I ponder as to the probable cause of my denial.

The Israelites got caught up within the particulars of a Sabbath’s rest. Regulations and requisites ruled the day. And as so often the case, whenever the law of religion supersedes the grace of its faith, rest is rarely, if ever…found.

I am afraid we are not so far in our thinking and in our doing from that of our spiritual ancestors. We busy ourselves with the many details of a Sabbath observation. Church life requires it. We didn’t mean for it to be this way…to make Sundays a day of work rather than a day of rest. It is simply the nature of the beast that we have fed with our programs and perfections and providings.

Instead of entering into the gift of God’s rest, we exhaust ourselves by walking around it, coddling it with the promise of our return once the details have walked their course. Unfortunately, their steps are many and their pace is measured by the cadence of man’s intent rather than the consecration of God’s endowment.

We have made the Sabbath a difficult embrace. God has always meant for it to be our simple acceptance. And tonight I am wondering…

What would it take for us to arrive at a similar conclusion—to get to the point where we lay down our busy in exchange for a posture that simply lies down?

What indeed?!

Meet the Robins’ family. They nest just down the street at Inie’s house, and they have much to teach us about a Sabbath pause, for they have perfected a consecrated rest.

A Sabbath rest is found in the hiding.

“For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.” (Psalm 27:5).

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” (Psalm 91:4).

A Sabbath rest is found in the sheltering with brothers and sisters.

“Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” (Hebrews 10:25).

“Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” (Acts 2:46-47).

A Sabbath rest is found in the lifting up of heads.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1-2).

“But you are a shield around me, O LORD; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head. To the LORD I cry aloud, and he answers me from his holy hill.” (Psalm 3:3-4).

A Sabbath rest is found in the waiting.

“Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the LORD is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!” (Isaiah 30:18).

“I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry.” (Psalm 40:1).

A Sabbath rest is found in an open mouth.

“‘I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt. Open wide your mouth and I will fill it.’” (Psalm 81:10).

“The Sovereign LORD has given me an instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary. He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being taught.” (Isaiah 50:4).

A Sabbath rest is found in the filling.

“Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men, for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.” (Psalm 107:9).

“Then Jesus declared, ‘I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.’” (John 6:35).

A Sabbath rest is found in an eventual launching.

“‘Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.’” (Matthew 28:19-20).

Hiding. Sheltering. Lifting. Waiting. Opening. Filling. Launching.

The posture of a Sabbath rest. Not requirements and regulations. Simply a lying down for a day so that a rising up for tomorrow can find its wings and take flight.

I am tired, friends, and I am in need. How about you? How long has it been since you have found your Sabbath’s rest? Would you allow the Robins, along with the Word of God, to be the compass that leads you there this weekend? Next week belongs to next. God’s Sabbath belongs to our today, and so I pray…

Take us there, Lord, to a place of rest and consecration underneath the shelter of your wings. Surround us with the care and comfort of your people as we rest. Lift our heads from our temporal and focus our eyes on your eternal. Teach us the patience of a sacred waiting. Feed us, Father, for we are hungry for your Word. Fill us, Jesus, for you alone can satisfy the craving of our souls. And when our rest is full and finished…complete and more than enough…breathe your breath to launch us into a world that needs to find its sacred pause. Amen.

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PS: I want to hear about your Sabbath rest this weekend! If you’re like me, the summer promises to be a busy one. I want to invite you all back next week, when I hope to begin a new mini-Bible study called “Raising Faith.” Hope to. A well-intentioned thought and a big dream considering that I now have four underfoot for the summer! I’ll have to squeeze in posts when I can.

And for those of you who will be nesting in worship with me this Sabbath? You’re in for a big treat. There has been a wonderful P.S. to Billy’s sermon last week! You will be awed and stunned by the faithfulness of our great, big God. See you Sunday.

A Second Ladle of Grace from Amelia’s Wishing Well

May 28, 2008

“Jesus answered, ‘Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.’” (John 4:13-14).

She couldn’t have known what her time at the well would mean for her in the days to come. Truth had come to meet her at the point of her deepest need. And when Truth arrives,

Truth transforms and transcends. He reveals and he requires. He invites and he instructs. He confronts and he commissions. He loves and he lasts.

What she decided to do with that Truth would count for always. Rather than run from Truth, she drank deeply from his sacred ladle to know a lasting grace that would follow her into her always. It was an always that would soon transpire into a second ladle of grace, portioned out upon the soil of her past.

“Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I ever did.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers. They said to the woman, ‘We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.’” (John 4:39-42).

Can you trace the power of a journey’s thirst that leads one to pause at a well? A pause that stops along the way to cast a penny’s hope into the sacred waters that stir with the breath of a Father’s intent? The Samaritan woman came with her emptiness. She left with a spring of water welling up within her to eternal life.

Eternity for her. Eternity for those who witnessed her transformation.

That is the way of sacred wishing and sacred waters. One cannot experience a taste of the Truth and leave as unchanged. God’s grace extended beyond her single ladle of refreshment to become a second helping of grace for those who knew her best. As it was for this Samaritan woman and her community so long ago, so it was for my household this past weekend.

I didn’t know there would be a P.S. added to A Penny’s Worth of Wishing—a second ladle of grace dipped from the same fountain that cradled my daughter’s wish for her Father to come and to reveal himself to her. One ladle was almost more than this mother’s heart could handle.

Almost.

But God is like that. He is a more than God. And when the well of Living Water touches the life of one, it ripples outward to touch the life of another. In this case, another named Jadon. Another I call son.

I would be remiss if I didn’t take time to script this P.S., for its worth far exceeds a penny’s throw. Its worth measures eternal.

My son has been walking around his sister’s salvation story for a couple of months now. She asked Jesus into her heart on Good Friday, and I chronicled her moment in a post entitled A Cradled Surrender. At that time, Jadon made some mumblings about a similar wanting, but because my son is prone to following…to impulsivity rather than conscious decision…I confess that I gave little credence to his words.

My heart was tender to his thoughts, but I wanted Jadon to come to his own conclusion in the matter of faith…to come into a saving relationship with Jesus Christ in his own time, in his own way, rather than riding on the coattails of his sister’s experience. That moment has come, and just yesterday, while sitting on the back porch steps with my son, he told me a story that is worthy of my pen.

Jadon told me about his moments at the wishing well. He had accompanied us on our field trip to find a well that would cradle our pennies’ worth of dreams, and while my attention was solely focused on Amelia making her wish, my little boy was making one of his own.

“Mommy, I asked God into my heart at the wishing well the other day.”

“What does that mean to you, son?”

“I know he is here in my heart. All four pennies were worth everything.”

Brief words. Powerful in their impact.

Enough said. Enough time for him to come to his own conclusion in the matter. Enough words to silence this mother’s misgivings and to finally embrace the tender declaration of a son’s wish.

We talked further, and then we prayed a prayer of firm commitment.

How could I have known that a trip to a wishing well would mean one thing to one child, and then, in turn, would mean everything for another child? That is the power of a journey’s thirst that leads a soul to the ladling from God’s sacred well. A drink from the fountain of Living Water always exceeds the parameters of a single wish. It spills forth onto everyone within range.

Sacred ladling…

Reveals Truth. Reshapes hearts. Renews perspective. Revives the dying. Rewrites forever.

First and second helpings. Thirds and fourths and beyond. One P.S. after another until all the world has been given the opportunity to drink. You and I, even Jadon and Amelia, host the eternal waters of our living God as he churns within our frame. He is meant for the overflow. He is meant for the spilling. We all have been given the sacred trust of carrying his ladle to our near and to our far…to our moments that exist ahead of this one.

To cast his life’s wish into the fountain of humanity so that all people can fully know and boldly proclaim that he really is…

the Savior of the world who readily receives our four pennies worth of wishing and showers us, in return, with the gift of everything.

And so I pray…

Thank you, Father, for a second ladling of grace… for the times when your working exceeds my visioning. Thank you for the ladles that will come to others through my life and through the lives of my children. Keep our quenching to the eternal waters of your filling. Let our taste for the world drink bitter while our taste for You drinks sweet. You, alone, are worthy of every wish of my heart. May your name be glorified and lifted up because of our time spent at your well this week. Amen.

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