100 Days | 100 Paintings

The Anointing

2009-12-30T23:14:00.004-05:00

PAINTING SOLD - PRINTS AVAILABLE

This painting was harder than the rest. Being the last one in a series of one hundred, so much significance and weight was born by it’s completion. It represented the end of an amazing journey...an experiment, if you will...with the Lord, and a group of faithful followers.

I’ve often heard the phrase “anointing” used to describe a sense of God’s favor or blessing resting on someone’s abilities...like singing, playing an instrument, or leading a worship song. As if, being “anointed” is EXTRA special in comparison to the ordinary.

And before I come off sounding critical, I need to explain that I’ve FELT that extra special something in certain situations. There are some worship songs that simply minister to me more profoundly than others. There are particular worship leaders that seem to be able to guide me to the throne room of God more quickly or intensely. There are certain authors that show me a side of God’s character that I’ve never seen quite that way before. But something just doesn’t quite settle within me when I sense the implication that some people are anointed by God, and some are not. Aren’t we ALL supposed to be a part of God’s royal priesthood...vessels through which His glory can be shared with all of mankind?

Let me share a story with you about the ancient Moors of Northern Africa who ruled over Spain. Their Arabic culture was know for their lavish celebrations that included lively music and dancing. In their Muslim tradition, when a dancer performed with unusual intensity and beauty, it was customary for the audience to shout out, “Allah, Allah!”...as if to say, “I see God! I see a glimpse of God!”. This tradition made it’s way across Europe, being translated into French as “Allez! Allez!” (from where we get the phrase “allez oop”), and later in Spain it was heard and more commonly used in the bull fighting stadiums as, “Olè! Olè!”

But in it’s purest form, the cry “Allah, Allah” was used in those matchless performances...you know the ones...the kind that leave you holding your breath, the ones that give you chills, or leave you feeling like you’ve you just witnessed something almost holy. As if the artist or performer had become a vessel for God Himself...and you had just been given a rare glimpse of His glory.

I’ve experienced transcendent moments like that many times, but I’ve just never really known what to call them, or how to aptly describe them. But in learning about the historical origins of the word “olè”, I feel like I finally get it for the very first time.

We were all created to give the world a glimpse of God’s glory. We were meant to be used as vessels that He could shine His light through. We were meant to draw man closer to God, and display His glory in vibrant color.

In John 17:22-23, Jesus says it this way:

“I have given them the glory You gave me, so they may be one as we are one. I am in them and You are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that You sent me and that You love them as much as You love me.”

May we ALL live our lives in such a way that people will want to respond by shouting, “Allah! Allah!...I have seen a glimpse of God!”

1 Peter 2:9 “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”

No Announcements

2009-12-29T20:00:00.000-05:00

Late one night, as my husband took our dogs on a walk around the neighborhood, he looked up and saw an enourmous spider's web strung between two trees. Now when I say enourmous, I make no exaggeration...the web was over eight feet wide...unimaginable really, when you think of the size of most spiders in this part of the world. The dew had fallen, and was hanging like strung crystals on strands of silk as they glistened against the blues of the moonlit sky.

He said it was the closest thing to a worship that he could imagine. Just him...in the silence of the night...with a bejeweled spider web that no one else would see...except for him and God. There was no well-selected set of songs to usher him into the throne room. No worship band cranking out tunes...no half hour sermon on the beauty of nature...no scripture reading to give the special moment more significance. Just him...and a spider's web...and the moon.

His heart melted within him as he considered the rarity of this moment...the spider spinning his web in glorious worship to the One who had created him to do just that...spin. It was breath-takingly beautiful...stunningly simple...and yet, elegantly elaborate all at the same time. He was transfixed on it...unable to look away. Mesmerized by this most random occurance...and deeply blessed that he got to be the only human audience member for this grand spectacle.

As John stood there gazing, the odd thought struck him:

"No one is rushing up to give announcements!"

He quickly realized just how accustomed he'd become to experiencing moments just like this in church. Those holy moments...when your entire being is laid open in adoring worship...only to be yanked back into reality by the "business" of doing church. Announcements. The "Welcome". Dismissing the kids. All necessary elements in conducting a service...but all to many times, ravaging to the soul that is caught up in worship.

There was no condemnation in his heart about the matter...just a simple realization that made him even more ardently appreciative of this unusual situation. The truth was that he could take all the time he needed. He could drink it in...there was no big rush. He could stand there, with his heart wrapped up in that moonlit spider web all night long if he wanted to. It was sheer bliss.

Even years after, he's still telling the tale of that magical night. It left an indelible mark on his heart. For one, it served as a beautiful reminder for him to look up and enjoy the beauty...no matter what menial task he might be engaged in. And also, to let the simplest of things in God's creation inspire a profound sense of awe in his heart.

Reminders that we all can learn from...

Tent Pegs

2009-12-28T20:12:00.001-05:00

Isaiah 54:2

"Enlarge the place of your tent,
stretch your tent curtains wide,
do not hold back;
lengthen your cords,
strengthen your stakes."

Wave Swept

2009-12-27T20:54:00.003-05:00

Psalm 42:7

"Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls;

all your waves and breakers have swept over me."

I’ve always been drawn to the ocean. There’s just something about its vastness, its grand expanse...the rhythmic roar of its waves meeting shore...and the clarity that I always seem to find in any time spent there.

I remember back to a particularly difficult season in life when my husband and I had experienced an unusual degree of hardship and loss. We’d lost loved ones and jobs and friendships. We were, quite honestly, worn out and frazzled. We had locked into survivor mode, and were holding onto each other for dear life. In an attempt to stand strong, we’d reigned ourselves in so tight that we couldn’t even remember the last time we’d had a good laugh.

It was time for a serious getaway, so we loaded up the car and made the 4-hour trip to the beaches of South Carolina. There we laid in the sun and soaked up it’s warmth...feeling our hearts begin to thaw out from the long winter in our souls. We walked along the ocean’s edge and picked up all sorts of beautiful sea shells, poked around on jellyfish with driftwood sticks, and chased flocks of scampering sand pipers...regaining our child-like sense of wonder in the brilliant artistry invested in such simple things. We squealed and giggled like little kids as we jumped the waves that were so unpredictable...and at times we surrendered completely to their force and let them carry us both up onto the sandy shore. We were refreshed and renewed by those waves...as if the heaviness washed right off our hearts. We dreamed and schemed and talked about the future. We were wave swept.

As stressed out humans, we often talk of being “overwhelmed” by life changes... of “drowning” in the amount of work we have to do...of struggling to “keeping our heads above water”...or simply trying to “tread water”. And there are times when things can be so bad that we talk of feeling the weight of it all “crashing down on us”. We try so hard to fight against the tide...and we’re worn out by the tossing of the waves.

My wave-experienced friends in California taught me three important things about handling a wave:

You can plant your feet and spend all of your strength and energy trying to stand up against it’s impact.
You can focus all of your attention on timing it’s breaking point and jump above it at just the right time
You can align yourself with the wave, surrender to it’s direction and let it carry you along to a different place

It’s the same thing with God, really. We can wear ourselves out trying to resist Him, attempting to stand strong in the wake of His will for our lives. We can try to navigate around the breakers, striving to avoid the consequences of following Him altogether. Or we can abandon ourselves and become completely immersed by the waves of His Lordship over our lives...kind of like body surfing in His purpose and plans.

Wave swept, our hearts were transformed that blissful day at the beach. Giving way to the unpredictable force of the waves, we found the joy that we’d been missing for oh, so long...

Virtuoso

2009-12-26T23:15:00.003-05:00

I don’t know if you’ve ever gotten to see Yo Yo Ma play his cello, but it’s quite an experience. He has an unassuming presence when he takes the stage...but as soon as he rests the cello’s neck onto his shoulder and draws the bow across it’s strings, he commands your full attention.

He knows his instrument like the back of his hand, having invested countless hours in the mastery of his craft. He is a consummate professional, an outstanding performer, and a brilliantly gifted artist. Yo Yo Ma is a true virtuoso.

Known best for his rich, smooth tone, he has leveraged his eclectic stylings to pioneer new territory in classical music, and has creatively collaborated with the likes of John Williams, Placido Domingo, and Sting.

Beyond his public appearances for official government functions and international concert performances, Yo Yo Ma has been featured on a variety of TV sitcoms, dramas and cartoons...and has even made appearances on Sesame Street and Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood.

Bottom line is, Yo Yo Ma is known around the world for doing one thing and doing it exceptionally well: playing the cello. His untiring dedication and selfless contribution has had a profound, effect on the field of classical music, and will leave an enduring legacy of excellence and beauty for generations to come.

Which inspires me to give pause to the thought:

What are you known for?

Your hair-triggered temper?

Your self-righteous hypocrisy?

Your lazy work ethic?

Your ineffective communication?

Your disconnected apathy?

Your negative attitude?

Your well-honed skill of working the system?

Your overblown sense of entitlement?

Your impatience?

Your self-absorbed perspective?

...Or are you known for:

Your humility and unassuming presence?

Your mastery of something transformative? (whatever it might be)

Your consummate professionalism?

Your untiring dedication?

Your selfless contribution?

Your profound effect on the world?

Your enduring legacy of excellence and beauty?

Which begs the question:

What do you WANT to be known for?

If you’re just not sure, I encourage you to take Paul’s advice in I Cor. 10:31,

“Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.”

Be a virtuoso of life...of relationships...of caring for each other...of matters of the heart. John 13:34-35 says,

“By this the whole world will know that you are My disciples: if you have love for one another.”

Be a virtuoso of the heart.

Be known for your love!

Wintry Chill

2009-12-25T13:29:00.002-05:00

There are times when winter's chill sets in...our souls ache from the cold...our hearts mourn the barren landscape. We long for the lengthy days, the vibrant colors and the sound of bird song.

Will it ever come?

Will it be like this forever?

We languish at the brink of despair over thoughts of enduring the harshness of this season any longer.

Until...the sun peeks through a small gap in the treeline...and in that one glimmer, we place our full hope that Spring once again will come.

Song of Solomon 2:11-12

"See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.

Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.

God With Us

2009-12-24T23:28:00.003-05:00

Luke 2:11 “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”

It was such a holy night, and yet I wonder if any of it’s main characters were even minutely aware of it’s historical, life-altering significance.

I wonder what the conversation must‘ve been like among the shepherds after throngs of angels announced the arrival of the Great Shepherd of their souls. Was there nervous banter as they hurriedly made their way back into town on THIS night? Or were they so filled with awe and wonder that they moved the flocks in silent reverence?

I wonder if the inn keeper muddled about in the after-math of that uncomfortable inner prodding that compelled him to give THIS little vagabond troupe shelter among the livestock in his stables. Did he wrestle with even the slightest urge to tidy up a bit around the stalls...or up his level of hospitality? Was he disturbed at all by the humble condition of his shabby accommodations for the Great Guest that would be in his care later that night?

I wonder if Mary understood the gravity of the events that were taking place around her, in her and through her. Did she have any idea that the pain she endured THIS night would deliver The Balm of Gilead to the pain of all mankind? Did she realize that this fragile and needy bundle-of-joy would one day make her heart-sick in fulfilling His destiny to become the Great Physician?

I wonder if Joseph had great plans for THIS first-born son...some respectable profession...some level of success...some stature among their local community. Would there be dashed dreams, unfulfilled expectations, and the build up of tension from the distressing contrast between who He Was, and who Pops wanted Him to be? Would he be proud of this Carpenter-Son, or intimidated by the weighty call on His life. What on earth must it have felt like to one day play stick ball with the Great and Mighty King?

I wonder if the sound of THIS baby’s cry was any different than any other in the village. Did it move men’s hearts in any particular way, or wake otherwise sleeping men from their dreams? Did the Cry of the Father’s Heart resonate in the weeping of this small infant, or was it perceived as a typical annoying inconvenience that needed to be suppressed in order to maintain the decorum of eventide?

I wonder if THIS baby in swaddling clothes gurgled and cooed in true baby style? Did He sleep through the night? Was he colicky? Did He cry with gas pains? Were his diapers stinky? Did he spit up on his mom or throw baby food at his dad? What a crazy, contradictory mix of earthy man-child and divine deity...all rolled up into the form of one rosey-cheeked, new-born babe.

I wonder what transformation must have taken place among the shadowy hearts of the Magi...Masters of the Dark Arts, all...as their caravans made the long journey towards the Great Light? What kind of inexplicable inner shiftings of allegiance must have taken place in that single moment of first laying eyes on THIS toddler...that the only adequate response was for them all to fall face down in worship?

God with us. Are we even fully aware of His life-altering significance? I wonder...

Light of the World

2009-12-23T21:21:00.000-05:00

In Pursuit of Beauty

2009-12-22T22:12:00.000-05:00

Variegation

2009-12-21T19:49:00.000-05:00

In Earthen Vessels

2009-12-20T19:42:00.005-05:00

PAINTING SOLD - PRINTS AVAILABLE

2 Corinthians 4:7
"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels,
so that the surpassing greatness of the power
will be of God and not from ourselves"...

Just recently I found out that a long-lost cousin of mine was a potter. Not just a "go to the mall and paint pretty pictures on a piece of pottery" potter...but the real kind that starts from nothing but a block of clay, and winds up with a one-of-a kind vessel of beauty like the one in this painting. Not just a weekend hobbyist, but an artist with a fully equipped studio in her basement!

It was such fun news for me to discover...and very quickly between us, there developed a joint appreciation for each other's art form. I went to her website and fell in love with her stuff (www.potsogold.net)...she went to my event page and commented on the paintings found there...and even wound up buying some! It was a common bond that came so unexpectedly after all these years...such fun to find out that your cousin is an artist, too!

I so enjoyed reading her back story...how she kind of fell into it (the mud, that is)...when her daughter brought home a class project to share. Chris tells of something sparking inside of her...they took some classes together...and the rest is history. It's so exciting for me to hear about other people's creativity cracking open...even more so when they're related to me!

I've held a long lasting love for this art form of ceramics...it's by far one of my all-time favorites. The processes involved in ceramics hold such strong parallels to our faith walk:

First, there's the mixing of clay...where the new powder is mixed into a sludge that has been around for quite some time. The old slip contains the necessary bacteria to create the crucial binding properties in the clay. It's the aged part of the mix that holds it all together. You put the sludge and the powder together into a pugging machine that blends it by pushing it through a series of blade wheels that cut and slice and grind it all into a uniform mix.

Once you've mixed your clay and separated a chuch of it from the batch, you introduce it to a pounding board. On this board is strung a taut wire. You draw the block of clay across the wire to split it in half and then slam each piece onto the board...over and over and over again. This process removes air pockets from the clay...air pockets, that if not removed, would explode once temperatures began to rise during the firing. Once you're satisfied that the air pockets have been removed, you can take the clay to the potter's wheel to mold it...or you can fabricate it by created slabs and shapes by hand.

The "throwing" process on the potter's wheel is a series of movements to get the clay firmly balanced and steady. By applying strong pressure to the center of the lump of clay, pushing out with your thumbs and pulling up with your fingertips, you move the clay into a desired shape. If it appears to be lopsided, or if an air pocket works its way out to the surface, or if any other abnormalities appear then you apply pressure from the top of the whole piece...taking it back down into a solid mound again. This process can happen many times with a single piece...until the potter is confident that it is balanced, of uniform thickness throughout, and will successfully endure the heat of the kiln.

Once you create a good piece, you slice it off of the potter's wheel and let it sit on the shelf...for a while. This process can be excruciatingly slow...the drying out period. You've just thrown such a beautiful piece...and you're anxious to glaze it and put it into the fire. But you mus wait for it to naturally dry a bit...to become what is called "greenware". It transforms from a leathery wet surface, to dried and almost useable. But at this stage, even though dried, the vessel could never hold water. Introcuded to liquid at this stage, the vessel would begin to soften and melt back into the sludge-like state that it came from.

The next step is to dip or paint the green ware with glaze. Specific mineral compounds are chosen for the color they produced when introduced to varying degrees of heat. It can be tricky until you learn each compound's response to the heat...because what you dip it into is NOT what it will look like once the firing process is complete. It comes out entirely different than when it goes in. More vibrant. More beautiful.

It's also not until the firing process is finished that a vessel can hold water. It's the heat of the kiln that dries up even the chemically bound moisture...making the clay impervious to the influence of liquids from that point on.

There are so many parallels to this process we call life...this journey we make within the Master's ceramic studio. From sludge to worthy vessel...and all of the stages in between. It makes the passage in 2 Corinthians 4:7 mean so much more when we have a grasp of the entire process. A pot cannot put itself through any of the necessary stages of preparation. It cannot hurry the process, or find a quick short cut. It's impatience does not dictate any urgency on the actions made by the potter. The potter is in complete control...not the clay...and he invests the priceless time, effort and patience required to transform that lump of clay into a beautiful, unique, useful vessel.

In the end, it is important that the greatness of our power be know to source from God, and not ourselves. We are but an earthen vessel...full of impurities, weaknesses and flaws...and yet, He still chooses to use us...to fill us...that we may pour more of Him out on those around us.

An earthen vessel used to serve in the King's court...just how cool is THAT?!?!

Awaited Arrival

2009-12-19T19:16:00.002-05:00

PAINTING SOLD - PRINTS AVAILABLE

Between the bitter snaps of winter, we have some blissful respites that hint of spring. We have a hydrangea in near our front porch that lost all of it's leaves in the ice storm last week...but oddly enough has now sprouted new leaf clusters at it's tips. It's the weirdest looking thing! If I listen hard enough, I think I can even hear it chanting, "I think I can...I think I can...I think I can!"

I love a good holiday snow, and an occasional rainy gray day...both are good for cozying up to a steamy cup of joe, a warm blanket...and some quality time for writing. And yet, at the core of my innerds (as we like to call them around our house)...I wait with bated breath for the arrival of spring.

I wonder if it was like that for Simeon and Anna. Luke 2 states that Simeon had long been awaiting the consolation of Israel...and being moved by the Spirit, he went to the temple to await His arrival. As soon as Anna caught sight of the Christ child, she gave thanks to God and then "spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem." They were both waiting and watching in alert anticipation.

I think in the crazyiness of life and all of it's distractions, my heart tends to become numb. There have been long periods of time when I haven't given a single thought to heaven or to Jesus' return. I go about my daily duties with absolutely no sense of anticipation about what is yet to come.

I want to adjust whatever is in me, that is numbed by what the world has to offer. I want the Holy Spirit to move me into places of direct encounter with the Christ child. I want to wait in alert anticipation for the Consolation of my loss and disappointment...the Redemption for my sinful ways.

"Is it tonight? Will I see Him tonight?"

and if not tonight, may my heart not grow weary in carrying the thought...

"then when...?"

In Search of a Savior

2009-12-18T22:49:00.000-05:00

One Wish

2009-12-17T22:35:00.002-05:00

John 15:7

"If you remain in me

and my words remain in you,

ask whatever you wish,

and it will be given you."

If you had just one wish, what would it be?

Would it be for freedom? peace? justice? health? riches?

Would it be a wish that would benefit you...or others?

Would it set things straight, make things right, or change the world?

Would it be a self-perpetuating wish that couldn't help but repeat itself from here on out?

Or a wish for a singly incomparable moment of bliss?

Would it greatly alter your current situation...or that of your fellow man?

Would it be shrouded in some convoluted and lofty ideal, only accessible to the wealthy and wise?

Or would it be magnificently simple, for all men to attain?

Would it champion a cause or cause a revolution?

Would it stir men's hearts toward action, or convict them of their idleness?

If you had just one wish, what would it be?

"Star Light, Star bright,
The first star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight."

...as people caught sight of the Great Star shining over the manger where Jesus laid,

I wonder what they wished for...

I wonder if they wished for Him.

Great God...Savior of the World...

In You all of our wishes come true.

Expectancy

2009-12-16T21:35:00.001-05:00

Not having had kids myself, I've often been witness to the magical and sometimes not-so-magical events surrounding the birth of many of my friend's children. It's been an interesting and exciting vantage point from which to experience "all things baby", without actually experiencing the miracle of birth myself. Oh, I've been involved...quite an active participant, at times...but I've never actually gotten to "take home the prize" at the end of it all.

Yep, I've helped to decorate many a nursery, attended more baby showers than I'd care to admit, and even got to drive one expectant couple to the hospital early one Sunday morning as they did breathing exercises in the back seat of my car. We'd done a couple of practice runs, tracking which route would be best to take at different times of the day on the San Diego freeways. We'd set all neccesary items by the door so that actual thinking wouldn't be quite so necessary when "the moment" came. We planned and prepared, making sure that every detail was in place and ready for the long-awaited arrival. We feasted on late-night pizza and indulged in weirdly wonderful food cravings. We walked slowly down the pathways running throughout our apartment complex, carefully counting the minutes between contractions.

And when "the moment" came, I drove like Mario Andretti through California traffic, racing my way through the gridlock in record time...throwing the car into a power slide at just the right moment, that landed us perfectly parallel to the emergency room doors...and my precious cargo into the capable hands of the ER staff. Rumor has it that the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Just as the nurses swept my friend into the wheel chair and down the hall to delivery, the baby's head made it's way into the outside world...and the rest is sweet, sweet history.

That was almost 20 years ago, and I can still see it in my mind's eye like it was just yesterday! What an amazing, exciting, adrenaline-pumping time! It was one of those moments that changed my life, as I knew it, forever.

In this Christmas season, I've been thinking a lot about the idea of expectancy...the magical, wonderful idea of "God with us"... God incarnate...God come down to earth. I wonder what must've been going through the mind and heart of that simple, small-town girl from Nazareth. You know the one...the virgin...the one who'd never even known a man, and yet who's body showed all of the outward indicators of full-term pregnancy. Morning sickness, body changes, mood swings, funny cravings...and that whacky "nesting" thing. Not to mention the "Savior of the World" kicking around and doing flips inside of her stomach!

How surreal it must've been to try and wrap her brain around the fact that out of ALL of the women on earth, God had chosen her to be the vessel that He would move through in this magnificent way. And yet, how difficult...to see people giving her sideways glances...to hear the gossip...to feel the condemnation, and yet to know the truth. What a bittersweet time.

Oddly enough, I find myself connecting deeply with Mary in the wonder-filled days just prior to Jesus's birth. The overwhelming sense of expectancy...a mix of giddiness and trepidation. One part child-like wonder, with ten parts full-grown unbridled awe.

"Only a matter of days..." she must have thought, "...for God to set His plan in motion. Only a matter of time, before He comes to change the world."

I wonder if her heart didn't take on a soberness, a weight, as she planned and prepared for "the moment" that was to come. Bags? Check. Camel saddle? Check. Snacks for the week-long road trip? Check. Lots and lots of courage? You bet...Check! I wonder if she laid awake a few nights before their departure to Bethlehem...unable to quiet her mind to sleep, like I do just before an important trip. I wonder if she laid there staring up at the ceiling, thinking, "What a crazy ride this has been!", and wondering if she'd really just lost her ever-lovin' mind. I wonder if she had any idea how it would all actually play out in the end?

There are times that my heart feels pregnant with purpose...a divine insemination that I cannot explain or even begin to adequately defend. Times when I sense the overwhelming wonder of God with me, God inside of me, God moving through me. There is a tangible mix of giddiness and trepidation, an awe-filled wonder...that He would choose the heart of this simple, small-town girl to dwell in...a vessel through which He can reach out and change the world.

My heart takes on a sober weight as I plan and prepare for the journey that is to come. I lay awake some nights with heart and mind racing in pure excitement. Oftentimes, I lay there and stare up at the ceiling and think, "What a crazy ride this has been!"...and I wonder if I've really just lost my ever-lovin' mind! By the way, just for the record...to be completely honest...I have no clue how it will all play out in the end. But I wait with great expectancy...

Deus nobis...God with us. God in us. God among us.

...may it be said of me, Lord, may it be said of me.

Long Dark Road

2009-12-15T22:02:00.003-05:00

It was just after sunset as I drove through the high desert. The sky was blue dark...and what little light there was faded quickly as I made my way home from a later-than-usual business meeting. I'd taken a different road home this time, hoping to trim down my travel time...but instead of the familiar, bright, loud busyness of the highway, I found myself navigating my way through uncharted territory that was dark and desolate and barren.

The blackness of night crowded in quickly, and I almost felt it's suffocating presence wrap itself around me as I drove on through the winding hills. I felt the anxiety rising inside my chest...my grip on the steering wheel tensed...and an unwelcome chill crept through my bones. It was at that moment that I realized...I am scared.

A million gruesome scenarios seemed to flood through my heart and head. I didn't know where I was. There was no place to go for help...no lights on the road...no gas station in sight...no cell phones back then. It was the most profound sense of loneliness that I'd ever experienced. I was all alone.

It happens to us every once in a while, doesn't it? We're cruisin' through life...nothing really critical on the radar, when out of nowhere a "dark night of the soul" begins to press in on our hearts. A feeling that we're in an uncertain situation, an unpredictable environment, a risky place. It's unfamiliar...and lonely...and if we're totally honest, just plain scary. The darkness is so thick that you can almost feel it pressing on your skin...and you feel your heart beating wildly in your chest.

Your worst moment comes when you don't know if you can finish the journey on your own. All kinds of things could happen along the way. And there is no one...NO ONE to help you make safe passage through this dark, barren desert.

Funny thing about my journey on that long, dark desert road...in reality, just 10 minutes down the road...up over the crest of the hill...was the beautifully well-lit, bright and bustling city that I lived in. Had I let the fear overtake me and stopped, I would've been at the mercy of the darkened desert. But just over the next hill's rise were all of the comforts of home that I had grown to know and love. I was only moments away when the panic started to set in, but in reality my journey was almost done.

So if you feel the suffocating fear and loneliness of the long, dark road...take heart. Just over the crest of that next hill could be the very thing you've been longing for. In the mean time, you are not alone. David words it so well in the Psalms:

Psalm 139:1-12
O LORD, you have searched me
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O LORD.
You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
       Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
       if I make my bed in the depths,
you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
       if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
       your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
       and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
       the night will shine like the day,
       for darkness is as light to you.

Misty Morning

2009-12-14T22:56:00.003-05:00

I don’t know that I could live in Seattle, where it’s fully- or partially-overcast 302 days out of the year. That’s an awful lot of gray for this southern-born, sun-loving girl. But where I live now, on the eastern coast of the US, an occasional misty morning suits me just fine. It simply makes for a perfect day of curling up under a blanket, drinking a good cup ‘o joe, and working or reading in front of the fireplace.

Some misty mornings take me by surprise, though...as the otherwise sunny and mild climate robes itself in the coolness of silver and gray. Visibility is limited, but there’s a strange comfort to it... as if heaven has made it’s way down to embrace the earth.

Days like that make me think about the different ways God has chosen to show Himself to man. The Children of Israel had to make the transition quickly...from billowy cloud by day, to column of fire by night. In either form, they were expected to move when He moved.

He presented Himself to Moses as a fiery bush and a cloud of glory that passed before him as he hid in the crags of the rock. Abraham knew him as a comforting voice of counsel and direction...and as the great miracle-worker. He appeared to man in ever-changing ways, revealing new elements of His character every time.

Some were ready for him...and some just weren’t. Some wanted desperately to experience His presence, but then didn’t know what to do when He actually showed up. Some proclaimed great love for Him, but easily strayed when they thought He was no longer present and engaged. Some were so locked in to experiencing Him in once particular way, that they found it agonizing to encounter Him in any other form. Some had engaged Him so little, that they didn’t even know how to begin to enter into His presence.

And after thousands of years of on-going relationship, we still find it easier to embrace His constancy, His Never-Changing-ness...and we still wrestle with His Ever-Changing-ness. We want to formulate our encounters with Him. We want to put Him in a box of predictable stability. We expend reservoirs of time and energy, trying to lock down sure-fire ways to conjure up His presence...perhaps it’s in a certain key of music...perhaps in a certain style...perhaps it’s after a lengthy worship set, or a short one...a solemn one, or a jubilant one.

And the answer to all of the attempts is: ALL OF THE ABOVE. But trying to tie down the Creator of the Universe into ONE style of engagement, is like trying to keep the misty morning from cloaking a typical sunny day. It just can’t be done.

He will continue to change the way He reaches out to us. But it isn’t meant to drive us to frustration...it’s meant to spice up our Love Life.! It’s intended to reveal new and exciting characteristics of God that are diverse enough to meet our every need. It’s designed to bring hope into our complex, ever-changing lives...the hope that there is no change in our lives that will throw Him off course.

Yeah, an occasional misty morning never really hurt anyone...

Ripple Effect

2009-12-13T21:45:00.001-05:00

I've heard a lot about "The Butterfly Effect" in movies and on TV recently. So I thought I'd look it up for myself, to find out what the references were about. Wikipedia defines it as this:

"The butterfly effect is a term used in Chaos Theory to describe how tiny variations can affect giant systems, and complex systems, like weather patterns. The term butterfly effect was applied in Chaos Theory to suggest that the wing movements of a butterfly might have significant repercussions on wind strength and movements throughout the weather systems of the world, and theoretically, could cause tornadoes halfway around the world."

So in theory, a butterfly flapping its wings in China could eventually cause an F4 twister in Texas. A concept that's rubbish to some, intriguing to others. But whether you fully believe in the Butterfly Effect or not isn't really my point...however the idea of a ripple effect is.

It got me thinkin' about the effect we have on the people and situations around us...and it reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from the movie Gladiator:

"What we do in life,
echoes in eternity."

Which brings me to my real point. What will your echo be? What will your ripple effect look like? What will the things you do and say today, reap in the years to come? Will it bring about change? Unity? Stength? Hope?...or will it reap doubt? Division? Controversy? Trial?

Whether we like it or not...admit it or not...believe it or not...we're having some kind of effect on the people and situations in our everyday lives.

What kind of ripple effect did you create today?

Fitting Words

2009-12-12T22:54:00.000-05:00

Proverbs 25:11
"A word fitly spoken
is like apples of gold
in settings of silver."

Bird on a Roof

2009-12-11T20:52:00.023-05:00

Psalm 102:7

“I have become like a bird alone on a roof.”

I love this phrase. I found it wrapped within the text of the 102nd Psalm. In my Bible, this particular poem falls under the bold heading of “A prayer of an afflicted man. When he is faint and pours out his lament before the LORD.” What a perfectly beautiful way to describe the haunting feeling of isolation associated with distress.

There are differing opinions regarding who penned this lament. Some say Nehemiah, others Jeremiah, even others attribute it to Daniel. I’m okay with ascribing it to any of the men listed, since each one earned the kind of credibility that is only born from enduring the fires of great affliction.

Even as I start to read the psalm, I must admit, there is a part of me that instantly connects to the emotional intensity of the psalmist’s expression. In a revealing way, I find his lament to be an uncomfortably accurate description of my own current spiritual and emontional state.

In John Calvin’s commentary on the Psalms, he writes that in this poem, the psalmist

“intended to relieve the sorrow of those whose hearts he saw depressed; as if he had said, ‘Although you may be afflicted with anguish and despair, you must not on that account desist from prayer.’ Some translate the verb, ataph - ‘when he shall hide himself,’ and conceive that this is a metaphorical expression of the gesture of a man engaged in prayer, when, on account of his grief, unable to lift up his face, he hides himself, and keeps his head wrapped up in his bosom. But there appears to me to be an elegant play upon the words, when the distresses of the mind, and its being shut up, are spoken of, on the one hand, and the pouring out of prayers on the other; teaching us that, when we are so shut up by grief as to shun the light and presence of men, the gate is so far from being shut against our prayers, that then, in truth, is the most proper season for engaging in prayer, for it is a singular alleviation of our sorrows when we have opportunity freely to pour out our hearts before God.”

Fascinating contradiction, isn’t it? That the times when we feel the most shut up by the distresses in our minds are actually the best times to pour out our hearts before God. The greater the grief...the greater the call to pray. So contrary to our normal tendency to introvert, isolate, and disassociate...which in turn provides no relief, but only serves to compound the problem. And yet, if embraced and practiced in humble response to our anquish and despair, prayer actually administers salve to our aching souls. The confession of our deepest sorrows reconnects us to God’s purposes for our lives, and as Calvin puts it, we “draw consolation from the eternity of God; for, in adopting us to a better hope, he has separated us from the common lot of men.”

So in the end, we come full circle, back to a different type of isolation...that of being drawn into His presence, emptied of the anquish and despair that torments our minds, and filled with renewed purpose and hope. Now that’s a trade off I think I can deal with.

Like a bird alone on a roof: closer to God...and with a much better perspective of things going on below. Trust me...from his vantage point, the view is absolutely breath-taking.

How Long? (SIng A New Song)

2009-12-10T23:04:00.001-05:00

40 by U2

"I waited patiently for the Lord
He inclined and heard my cry.
He brought me right out of the pit,
out of the miry clay.

I will sing a new song,
How long to sing this song?

He set my feet upon a rock,
and made my footsteps firm.
Many will see,
Many will see and fear.

I will sing, sing a new song.
How long to sing this song?"

Surrender

2009-12-09T20:53:00.002-05:00

I struggle and fight,