Category Archives: trust

yet inwardly

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”  -2 Cor. 4:16-17

Yet inwardly.

As God-followers, we must remember that for every outward reduction to our lives there is an inward renewal taking place. Soul renewal. New strength to replace waning fortitude. New life in exchange for that which is old, even when the old is mostly preferred.

We cannot always foresee the reductions coming. Sometimes they surprise us. Sometimes we are warned in advance of their arrival. Still and yet, when loss arrives to our familiar, we feel it profoundly. We’re quick to mourn its advent, even quicker to forget the deeper work of grace that is taking place underneath the pain, at heart-level. It is in this inward place where our soul advances. Where faith is shaped. Where eternal glory exponentially increases at a rapid rate.

We may not see the increase happening, but just because our eyesight is momentarily dimmed by personal pain doesn’t mean that something good isn’t occurring at a deeper level. What soil put to the blade has ever thanked the blade for its penetrating sharpness? Until the seed is planted, the earth watered, and the sun applied, the soil has no appreciation for this inward work of glory. The soil just has to wait and believe that, with every passing sunrise and sunset, there is something generous taking place beneath the visible.

As it is with the soil, so it is with the soul.

I’m fourteen days into 2014, and if there’s one word that best characterizes what I’ve experienced in these beginning weeks it would be simply and profoundly be … loss.

Not only have I known deep, personal reduction, but one of my children has as well. My parents, the same. We couldn’t see it coming on the backside of our 2013s; nevertheless, loss has arrived at the doorsteps of our hearts, and we are challenged to take hold of God’s inward multiplication despite man’s attempts at outward reduction.

By the generous grace of God, we’re all still standing in faith. We all still believe in the mighty work belonging to the unseen—the hidden places of our hearts where the Gardener’s inward work is taking place. Even in loss, there is increase. We just can’t see it yet, not fully.

What I can see and what I do know is this:

God is keeping me in his perfect peace. Why? Because I am intentionally choosing to trust him and, moment by moment, to place my mind next to his. Whenever I begin to fret and feel overcome by the arrows of chaos shooting poison into my thoughts, I move my thoughts to a higher place. There’s nothing mystical about this mind-movement; rather, it’s a choice I’m making—a fluid, uninterrupted heart-motion that begins with saying, “I trust you, God” and ends with my resting my head on his chest.

Therein, I am a kept woman, if only for a moment. Moments can accumulate into hours. Hours into days, and days into weeks … these past two weeks of continuing peace. I’m growing to expect this from God, and I am exceedingly grateful for his generosity.

This is an inward work by the unseen God. This is increasing, eternal glory. And today, this is enough to carry me forward.

How about you? I don’t imagine I’m the only one who is experiencing loss in this season. Perhaps you’re standing where I am standing, feeling the sharp blade of unanticipated reduction to the soil of your heart. Might I encourage you with the words of the Apostle Paul that have greatly encouraged me?

Yet inwardly.

There is an inward grace taking place just beneath your seen and visible. It may not feel like much right now; this reduction may have temporarily numbed you to the truth regarding kingdom increase. But when you get to the other side of this loss—when the seeds planted in darkness begin to sprout as glory under the splendor of God’s radiant Son—then you will know that there is more to this current grief than what can currently be seen.

So rejoice with me, ye sojourners on the road of reduction! Yet inwardly, the Gardener is sowing for increase. Rejoice, at least, in this. It’s something more than we expected, and it just might wind up being our preference in the end.

Kept in peace,

Anchor Verse 2014 ~ Kept

 

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” –Isaiah 26:3, ESV

Kept.

This is who I want to be in 2014. This is how I want to live.

Kept … in perfect peace—the Father’s pledge to me preceded by my obedience to him. That obedience? To trust God first and, then, out of that unwavering confidence, to lay, lean, rest, and support my mind upon him … to stay with God.

With that trusting and in that staying comes a God-guarded, perfect peace—completeness, tranquility, safety, and contentment that cannot be secured in any other way. Like a night watchman keeping vigilance over his vineyard, the Father promises to safeguard my peace so that the harvest remains intact, healthy and thriving to fullness.

I don’t imagine I’ve ever experienced this perfect peace long-term. There have been moments, even days, perhaps a season or two of holding this kind of sustained, perfect peace, but I want more than seasonal glimpses. What I’m after is an enduring fellowship with this God-protected contentment.

And so, when I dreamed about these words from Isaiah 26:3 a few nights ago (to be fair, I didn’t know they were found in Isaiah 26:3 at the time), I awakened in the morning holding a fresh purpose for my 2014. This year, I want to know my Father as Keeper. I want to be kept in his perfect peace. Accordingly, I must tend to my trusting and to my staying.

A pledge preceded by an obedience. A pledge and an obedience tucked securely within the set of bookends who can and who does author such reality:

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.”

You. God. Father. Keeper.

He is where I begin my 2014. He is where I’ll finish. And in between my now and my then, a long season of trusting and staying … an enduring season of fellowship with God-protected contentment.

Kept. This is who I want to be in 2014. This is how I want to live … anchored and held by the rich truth and work of Isaiah 26:3. And so I offer my “welcome” to this New Year, and I offer my welcome to you as well. For as much and as little as we are able, the fellowship we share here is a stone of remembrance for me on this journey of grace. May God keep you strong and in the faith this 2014, and may you be guarded by his perfect peace every step of the way.

Stay with God,

Letting Go

Letting go.

We talked about it last night after teeth were brushed and prayers were spoken. Two girls, one barely eleven and the other four times plus her senior. Her tears might as well have been mine. I know this struggle – this letting go kind of dilemma.

She’ll be taking a trip soon, one that requires her to leave behind a few items that have been her comfort for the past decade. She knows it’s time; she just doesn’t know how she’s going to do it without some pain.

“Maybe this is how God is going to grow you. Maybe this is his way of molding you into the woman he wants you to be – someone who trusts him in the night. You can hold onto someone real, baby girl, instead of something that’s not. You can hold onto Jesus. I sure would hate for you to miss out on a potentially, life-changing experience because of your fear of letting go. Maybe this is God’s way of leading you toward a deeper faith in him.”

These words were enough to momentarily quell her inner ache; I lingered a while longer while she let this truth absorb into her soul. After leaving her room, I let it absorb into mine as well. Long into the night I meditated on these words shared from my mother’s, well-trained heart to a daughter who is following closely behind.

Maybe this is how God is going to grow you, Elaine.

Letting go. I know it’s time; I just don’t know how I’m going to do it without some pain.

Of what, you might ask?

A few things. In the grand scheme of your life, my few things probably don’t matter that much. I imagine you have your own releases that are fighting it out within your heart today. You know it’s time; God’s been poking at it for a while now. But you are scared of the night. Those creature comforts that have been temporarily comforting you no longer suffice. Their power is limited and will never lend you enough strength for the deeper faith that is required for the journey ahead.

And so you have a choice: Let go of what’s in your hand so that you might take hold of God’s hand, or hold on to what you have and never make it to your next, spiritual birthday. You can stay stuck at eleven or you can add another candle to the cake and move forward with your twelve. The choice is yours. The choice is mine.

Maybe this is how God is going to grow us all.

It begins in the night, when light is cloaked by darkness, a wrestling it out under the covers with our souls. The pain is real, the ache almost debilitating. Almost. But then truth arrives, bringing with it a fair exchange for the hurt. A God exchange. His real presence for your temporal fix. His real hand, his heart, and his love for your false idols.

Your life, changing because of your letting go.

I want that, friends. Life changing. Life amplified. Life maturing. Life living forward in the daytime because I wasn’t afraid to let go in the night. Life holding hands with the Savior instead of life holding hands with fear.

Accordingly, I make this choice today, even as my daughter will have to make hers in coming days. I know it’s time; I just don’t know how to do it without the pain. So I won’t even try. I’ll expect the pain, but I’ll also expect the hand of Jesus. His real presence makes all the difference. His real presence is all the strength I need to let go in order that I might walk on.

This is me letting go.

This is me walking on.

I’ll meet you on the road of faith. Traveling mercies, sweet friends, and may you always know God’s companioning …

Peace for the journey,

Come What May

 

He autographs my copy of his book, along with a postscript – 1 Cor. 1:9.

I visited this biblical address in my morning deliberations with God.

“God, who has called you into fellowship with his Son Jesus Christ our Lord, is faithful.”

Word by word, I let this one simmer in my soul.

God. Calling me. Into fellowship. With Jesus. My Lord. Is. Faithful.

I notice the bookends – God and faithful. Could it be any other way? Sometimes I think it might be, but my thinking (especially when emotions are involved) doesn’t always accurately portray truth. No, it cannot be any other way. God and faithfulness go hand in hand. There is not one without the other. God cannot be unfaithful, and faithfulness is defined by God. Faithful is who he is; faithful is what he does. Knowing this … believing this, I can live my life confidently, in peace, and with the full assurance that God will see me through to the finish line, come what may.

Why, then, do I sometimes crumble with the come what may?

Come what may. What came into my life last weekend was a phone call, preceded by a car accident involving my eldest son. And while he’s OK and his car is on the road to being repaired, I’ve yet to fully recover. Seeing his Scion crashed into an embankment, along with a “stop sign” buried in the sandy soil beneath the carriage of his car, has left a lasting impression on my mind. Hearing his cries for help on the other end of the phone has left a lasting impression on my soul.

It matters not the come what may, especially ones of the crumbling kind. They leave lasting imprints.

  • Sickness.
  • Death.
  • Divorce.
  • Abuse.
  • Crime.
  • Unemployment.
  • Under-employment.
  • Financial strain.
  • Learning difficulties.
  • Relational woes.
  • Dreams deferred.
  • Dreams forgotten.
  • ______________.

My recent come what may came and went; still and yet, it lingers in me. Tearing up my peace. Messing with the truth. My what ifs have temporarily dislodged the what is. What is?

God is faithful. Regardless of my come what may, God is faithful. I should rest securely in between.

I hate that I forget this, that I often don’t live this. It’s so concrete, so foundational to the faith that I profess to believe. When adversity howls down my pathway, I’m often paralyzed by the blinding darkness that surrounds me. The enemy would have it this way.

Come what mays grow larger in the dark. Come what mays thrive in the shadows. Come what mays come and stay when entertained in the cover of night.

It’s only with the light and witness of God’s presence that I am able to dispel the darkness and make the next step of faith. When I can see truth (even just a little bit), I’m able to move through the reality of my come what may and make progress toward something better. That better?

My Father’s come what may.

His faithfulness. Time and again, God showing up on the scene of my life and making certain that he can be seen. Touched. Tasted. Heard. Felt. I’ve never encountered a come what may that he wasn’t there in the midst of the chaos. My mess is his mess too. And when I embrace his light, when I take hold of the sacred lantern and lift it up against my fledgling faith, my come what may shudders and begins to break apart beneath the weight of holy illumination.

Come what may, God’s faithfulness does not change. It can be ignored, but it cannot be altered. His faithfulness stands, even in the midst of our crumbling messes … especially then.

“God, who has called you into fellowship with his Son Jesus Christ our Lord, is faithful.”

Let this promise simmer in your souls, friends. Let this truth settle deeply within your spirit.

Come what may, our Father has the final say. He is faithful. He will keep us through the night and, with the morning light, bring word of his unfailing love. This is enough light, the right light to move me forward. I know this is truth.

God help me to live it, even as I boldly proclaim it … come what may.

what is?

A few words latch tightly onto my spirit this morning.

Not “what if”, Elaine, but rather “what is”.

What is. What if I could just live there instead of living in the interminable list of maybes? I’m going to try. With God’s help I’m going to endeavor to live in the reality of today and not take on the unseen possibilities of tomorrow.

What is?

Family relocation in less than a month. Four of us heading south. Two of us heading north.

What is?

Exhaustion. I must take time to rest my body, mind, soul, and spirit, even in the midst of chaos.

What is?

Fear of the unknown. Today, I give it over to God and allow the Faith that has carried my Elaine in these last forty-seven years to be enough to see me through till nightfall.

What is?

Food in my cupboards and a little money in my pocket. Daily manna for daily needs.

What is?

No startling news on the health front. Thanking God for still waters.

What is?

A family’s love. I am accepted and celebrated for who I am.

What is?

The truth of God and his Word tightly tethered to my heart. Oh the sweet, inescapable grace of the Creator! Wherever I am, God IS as well.

What is?

Friendship. Kinship. The fellowship of the beloved. The family of God is long and wide and high and deep. I am not alone on this pilgrim road.

What is?

Good books. Good authors. Words that sustain me, challenge me, and lead me toward truth.

What is?

A day filled with sunshine. A good day for a walk in God’s garden. Eden doesn’t seem so far out of reach.

What is?

Motherhood. They are mine for a season. Today I’ll give them my time, my patience, my love, and my faith. It’s the best I can do.

What is?

Kingdom influence. An undeserved grace. A weighty privilege. A sacred participation with the Almighty. It might sneak quietly into my day, but I pray for eyes to see, a heart to believe, and hands wide-open to receive it as it arrives.

What is?

Right now. This moment.

What is?

Jesus Christ near me, with me, in me.

What is?

Enough peace for the journey I’m traveling.

How about you? What is? I’m praying that God will keep us focused here, on the “is” that really is and not on the “what ifs” that crowd our agenda. In keeping it this small, in breaking down the grand chaos into bite-sized, reality chunks, I think we’re better able to live our moments as they arrive. Not that we deny the truth of “what is”; the starkness of the life in front of us can be a challenge. But even when our “what is” is difficult, as a people of faith we can be certain that God’s “what is” is coupled alongside us as we progressively step through the struggle.

Would you be willing to think it through today – all the way through? Write down your “what is” and receive it as truth? “What ifs” are time wasters; I don’t know about you, but I’ve got enough on my agenda without squandering a single speck of emotional and mental energy on living a scenario that has yet to breathe.

What is? Well, I better get busy with it – two kids running down the hallway and asking the lunch lady regarding today’s menu. I’ll see you on the other side of my Monday, friends. Keep me posted on what your “what is”. I am praying for you.

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