Archive for the 'The Solid Rock' Category

September 28, 2009 @ 6:47 am | Filed under: The Solid Rock

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” –Matthew 6:25-27
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It’s hard not to worry.

There are many things that cause us to worry. Children, money, careers; true enough, but there are other things, sacred things, things we give up everything for, things that must be true lest we cease to exist.

And those things, they make us worry. They make me worry.

Until I hear the whispered promises. Spoken softly into my ear as I huddle in close, not needing anything more in those pure, quiet moments except His arms, His voice, His love. The liquid music infuses, filling me with a warmth that outdoes the coziest quilt on the coldest day of the longest afternoon of winter. It is steady, sure and does not hesitate.

And along with words, I begin to remember. 

I remember the birds, above my head, soaring with no judge or jury, no education or instruction, save the whisper of the God of the universe, saying simply,”FLY.”

I remember the splendor of the flowers, soon to rise up and start their reign on so many ill-managed lawns and forsaken plots of ground. Though they have not received their due care or concern, they cannot – will not – disregard the simple command of the One who breathed life into all the earth, “GROW.”

And so I say to myself today,

Fly.

Grow.

Believe.

Tags: devotionals, walk with God

September 24, 2009 @ 6:20 am | Filed under: The Solid Rock,The Writing Life

Tags: devotionals, life lessons, walk with God, writing

September 15, 2009 @ 6:22 am | Filed under: The Solid Rock

“I used to have a comfort zone where I knew I wouldn’t fail. The same four walls and busywork were really more like jail.” — My Comfort Zone
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I glimpsed the elderly woman as I pulled into the parking lot of the department store. Obviously somewhat crippled, she hobbled slowly, with one of her arms tucked in an awkard position against her chest. My heart clenched just as it has been doing more and more often these past few months. I can’t explain these moments but it’s as though all of my senses are – for the briefest of seconds – keenly aware of all the most minute details.

Even as she walked into the store and away from my view, I had a feeling I had not seen the last of her…

My dad is the kind of neighbor everyone loves. Sometimes I can’t help but be entertained that – at near 70 – he’s constantly mowing the yard of an elderly neighbor or sitting on the porch of a much younger one, taking a little advice. The business of age seems to mean nothing to him; he sees people, not their mile markers in this life.

My great aunt is a woman who listens to God’s voice. If she feels God stirring her heart she jumps in the car and just GOES. Many, many times I’ve had a hard, challenging day and she would just shows up. In recent years, it’s been the phone call…the one that often lasts a looooooong time. But it’s the ending of these phone calls that I know I’ll always remember: “Okay, hon – I’ll talk atcha later.”

I’m surrounded by people who consistently minister to others. I marvel at them. Admire them. Want to see this same thing in me. These are folks who aren’t afraid to pray with people, and – when seeing a heart that needs a lift – simply don’t care about anything else in that moment except doing what they can to meet it.

Their plans don’t matter in comparison to God’s plans.

From the outside it looks effortless. But I know that there was a time when moving in these realms must surely have required that they move outside the borders of their comfort zones. Even the most confident, self-assured person has fences and borders that protect the raw edges that we don’t want anyone to see or touch. And yet people with a heart for God’s children don’t derive their confidence from their own abilities, talents or even their own personality. They absorb what’s being funneled from the hallways of Heaven and put it to use on Earth’s dusty pathways.

I’m trying to be like that. I’m trying to listen and just do what I feel God’s asking. I’m also learning to be brave – to pray with a friend RIGHT THERE. To make the call. To write the words. Daily, it seems, there is something – either a person or a situation – that challenges me to step beyond the point of personal comfort and venture into another’s life. If I have learned anything over the past few months it is that I want to do as I’m asked.

But I can’t say that it’s always easy for me…

I wasn’t at all surprised last night when – in the ladies dressing room – a fitting room door opens slowly and the elderly woman from the parking peered out.

“Can you help me?”

I stepped inside.

My new friend may have thought the next ten minutes were about someone lending her an extra hand, an extra eye, a great conversation – but I knew the real truth. She was helping me. Helping me to venture further from my place of safety on the sidelines, and to walk bravely into a world that is not at all about me.

But ALL about Him.

Tags: life lessons, walk with God

September 2, 2009 @ 6:35 am | Filed under: The Solid Rock,Uniquely Me

One of the great mind destroyers of college education is the belief that if it’s very complex, it’s very profound.” - Dennis Prager
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(originally journaled in early April 2009.)

The past few weeks have been surreal.

I can scarcely believe we are actually doing this. I keep waiting for the REAL me to rise up and say something along the lines of “what the…?” But there is nothing except certainty that is flowing smooth and easy inside of me.

Even as I pack the house in the late night hours when I’m all alone, moving through the rooms and hallways, I have no qualms about this decision. It’s the nighttime that is usually the breeding ground for fear and trepidation and – some nights – I keep waiting on it. But it’s a visitor that never knocks.

My logic tells me that surely I must have been konked on the head and awakened with some other woman’s rationale and emotions. This is NOT me. I worry. I fret. I resist change.

I’m emotional.

But the reality is that I’m calm and certain, in a way that I just can’t explain. In less than two weeks I will walk out of this house – this style of living – and I will walk into an apartment over an hour away. We will know no one. I will stay many, many nights by myself while Mike is on the road. I am leaving behind the concept that “bigger is better” and the theory that as I get older, my “things” should become bigger, nicer, finer…

I sit here tonight and wonder what happened to the woman I was. When I look in the mirror as I brush my teeth, I look the same. But I no longer recognize the inner woman. I don’t know her. I think I should be afraid.

But I’m not.

I go to bed with peace and awaken with a quiet excitement.

I don’t know what to expect, but I do know that I should be expectant.

(Two weeks later…)

Tomorrow the movers will come.

By this time tomorrow night, I will be preparing to spend my first night in Commerce. In an apartment. In a community that is so unlike any I’ve lived in before.

Boxes are packed and labeled. Many will go with us into our new home, but even more will go into storage. We are losing over 1400 square feet of living space with this move, so – in ways even we had not anticipated – simplicity is truly finding us.

It’s a funny thing. Sometimes the very thing we ask for, pray for, finds us and takes us by surprise. Very seldom is it packaged the way we’d imagined, or presented in a way we’d recognize.

But it is a gift, nonetheless, presented by Him, simply because we requested it.

There have been so many mini-miracles (is there such a thing? are they all huge, and that is why they are miracles…?) to transpire over the past couple of weeks that we have almost been amused. I’m pretty certain that I have both, laughed out loud and broken down and cried, because it further solidifies that this move is the one thing that needs to be done.

Even in the moments when my logic kicks in and I run through the mental list of just why this is a crazy move, and just who probably now thinks we’ve lost our minds, and where I’m headed…even in those moments I can’t ignore the obvious.

Too many things have aligned in short order. Too many people have unknowingly been a part of this plan. Too many past prayers and nights and days spent in restlessness -knowing that I was in the big middle of the deep, learning to swim and tread water, and yet not being able to see the other shore. In a crazy, crazy, definitely unforeseen way, I’ve reached the banks and I’m crawling ashore. It’s certainly not where I’d pictured myself washing up. The beach is not white and sandy like I prefer. The water is not crystal clear and cool to the touch. It’s not paradise. It’s not my dream.

But for some reason that I am still helpless to explain, it has become…home.

Tomorrow I go there.

Tags: life lessons, living simply, walk with God

September 1, 2009 @ 6:44 am | Filed under: The Solid Rock,The Writing Life

Sometimes our lives can resemble a book.

There is a little romance. A little drama. A little humor. And a little (or a lot) of conflict. Of course every story needs conflict. That’s what keeps us interested. We enjoy seeing the characters of our books get into – and then out of – trouble.

Of course, in reality not every situation has a happy ending in 30 minutes or less. Real life is different, but it’s also better.

Every day there are words coming out of our mouths.

They can either build people up. Or they can tear them down. In the United States we having a saying, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

Truth: words hurt. They maime, they wound. Every word that comes out of our mouths will either hurt or help. It will either bring loved ones closer or push them away. This is something we need to consider when we are speaking—to our children, to our spouse, to other family members. To friends.

But this is not the only dialogue happening in our lives. Whether we know it or not, there is another continual dialogue going through our minds. It’s our internal dialogue. The dialogue occurs in two ways. “Thorough and organized” dialogue or dialogue that “bounces around like a little rubber ball in your mind.”

“Thorough and organized” thinking is similar to a great novel plot or movie script. A script is something the writer uses to put the movie on paper. It provides direction for the producer, the actors, and even the set directions.

The script isn’t the movie. The script is direction for the action. The script guides everything. Without the script there is no order and the action has no meaning. would jump around. Nothing would make sense.

Sometimes we don’t organize our thoughts in our mind, and our actions are the same. Our actions, our lives, seem to be without meaning and order.

Those times when I find my thoughts just running around in my mind, with no plan or purpose, I know I am in the big middle of chaos. I’m not talking about organizing daily activities. We all somehow manage to organize our days, some better than others.

But the BIGGER thinking, such as: Where do I want to be in the future? Where would I like to see my family in the future? What would I like my marriage to look at five years from now?What kind of adults do I want my children to be?

Sometimes we let our minds get carried away with concerns. We think about things that happened ten years ago. Or maybe we consider worries we have about tomorrow.

We also find our thoughts are full of emotions. Happy thoughts, sad thoughts, excited thoughts, or scared thoughts. Our thoughts are focus on whatever is going on that moment. One day things are good. The next day things are not so good. Our actions then follow our emotions, which we know can lead to all types of trouble and issues.

I don’t want to allow my thoughts, or what is happening around me, to be in control. I want Him to write the script of my life and then I want to allow my thoughts to follow that script and no other.

Why is that so hard at times?

Tags: devotions, life lessons

August 26, 2009 @ 9:19 am | Filed under: The Solid Rock,Uniquely Me

“The optimist sees opportunity in every danger; the pessimist sees danger in every opportunity.” — Winston Churchill
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Be still and know that I am God. - Psalm 46:10

I knew that change was coming to my life.

Normally, I don’t do change. At least not with any kind of ladylike grace at all. It usually involves a bit of kicking and screaming, asking why, and – more often than not – results in lots of hot tears.

Why is it that some lessons are just so hard to learn?

My heart is a tricky place. Just when I think I have all its rooms cleaned up and ready to pass inspection, I trip and fall over something I thought I had already picked up and put away properly.

When I want too much, I become a very unhappy woman. And it’s never things that get me twisted, it’s matters of the heart, a longing for that one, single, solitary place inside of me that has yet to be satisfied…

It was during times alone with Him that I began to ask for simplicity.

And it was in the darkness of those hours before Him, when I could no longer hide and found myself stripping off everything that was trying to bind my mind, my emotions, my purpose, that His voice found me.

He began to uncover the makeshift bandages I had placed over bruised spots. His fingers caressed the scars, and He spoke whispers of comfort that moved a long-needed breeze through my soul.

For the past year I have been so acutely aware that I was being prepared for something. In almost everything I took a part in, it was shown – again and again and again - that I was to walk out into the deep and that I was to do just this one thing.

One thing at a time.

I have found that if you do that ONE THING and then the NEXT one, and then the NEXT one…before you know it life has evolved, situations have evolved and…I have evolved. And evolution equals change.

One day that still quiet voice penetrated to the depths of my heart; I listened, sensing an important message.

Simplicity, I can give you.

I instinctively knew I should stiffen at those words, but I no longer had the energy. Wasn’t I on my face, tears streaking my face, my throat raw from the time spent with Him – acknowledging that my ways needed to fade away so that HIS way could be made clear?

The struggle within me died in those moments of surrender. I didn’t know where He would lead. I didn’t know what He would have me do.

I only knew that I could no longer hide. Could no longer numb the pain. Could no longer live a life that was merely reactive.

I rose to my feet, not knowing anything more than I had said yes.

To what, I didn’t know.

Tags: living simply

May 20, 2009 @ 10:09 am | Filed under: The Solid Rock,Uniquely Me

What in the world…?

I pulled my cell phone from the charger a few days ago and stared down at it. I had just one bar. How could that be?

For the third time in about as many days I noticed that my phone was steadily losing its charge. Adding stop in to get your phone checked out was pretty much the last thing I wanted to put on my ever growing to-do list.

I was puzzled. The phone was not that old, nor had the battery been giving me any previous problems.

I’m a creature of habit, nothing if not predictable. Every night for the past year that we’ve been living in this house, I have plugged my phone into the same spot to charge overnight. Without fail. If I’m home, then my phone is on the charger.

So my frustration stemmed mainly from knowing that I’d soon have the hassle of making the stop at the phone place, and not so much from anything else. I plunked my phone into my purse and moved to finish my chores before heading out to run errands.

It was sometime in the next half hour or so – as I pushed the vacuum cleaner across the carpet in my bedroom – when it hit me. I snapped the off button on the vacuum and practically ran over to where my charger lay.

I had to get down on my hands and knees to follow its cord around the small table and behind another piece of furniture until…

I gave a gentle tug and the entire cord popped out in front of me.

IT WASN’T PLUGGED INTO THE POWER SOURCE.

As I sat there on the floor, holding the charger and feeling quite stupid at this point, God began to speak to me. In those few minutes of alone time in the big middle of mundane chores and household duties, He layed out an object lesson for me that I don’t think I’ll forget anytime soon.

This is how you become when you go too long without being plugged into my power.

The guilt was immediate because I knew exactly what He meant. The past few weeks had been harried ones. The pace had been frantic, the burdens quite heavy, and the emotions have run rampant.

And yet – in the middle of all this – I guess I felt I had enough “stored up” energy to power me through it all. I prayed, but the words were hurried and my heart wasn’t always all the way in it. I made enough of an effort to spend time with Him that I guess I convinced myself that I was indeed fine. Just like my phone, I was plugged in as far as I could see.

But…

I WASN’T PLUGGED INTO THE POWER SOURCE.

Not the way I should have been. Certainly not the way I am used to. And definitely not the way I needed to be if I want to continue to be the wife, mom, friend, leader, etc… that I know I am called to be.

It’s been several days now and I cannot pass by where my phone lies being charged without thinking back on this lesson. God stopped me on that day and in that way that only He has with me, He slowed me, soothed me, and redirected my thoughts. My intents. My heartbeat.

He, very simply put, energized me.

Tags: life lessons, power source, walk with God

April 10, 2009 @ 5:32 am | Filed under: Food and Drink,The Solid Rock

If you have young children and are looking for a fresh way to, both, celebrate Easter and teach the significance of the resurrection, then you have to read this! I wish I would have come across something like this when the boys were young. Joanne has such great ideas, and this is definitely one of them! If you try it, please leave a comment here and let me know how it goes – I’d love a pic too!

Easter Story Cookies

1 cup whole pecans
1 tsp. vinegar
3 eggs whites (room temperature)
pinch of salt
1 cup sugar
a Bible

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.

Place pecans in a baggie and let your children beat them with a wooden spoon to break them into small pieces.
Explain that after Jesus was arrested, Roman soldiers beat him. Read John 19:1-3.

Let each child smell the vinegar. Put 1 tsp. vinegar into a mixing bowl.
Explain that when Jesus was thirsty on the cross, he was given vinegar to drink. Read John 19:28-30.

Add egg whites to the vinegar.
Eggs represent life. Explain that Jesus gave his life to give us life. Read John 10:10-11.

Sprinkle a little salt into each child’s hand. Let them taste it, then brush the rest into the bowl.
Salt represents the salty tears shed by Jesus’ followers and the bitterness of our own sin. Read Luke 23:27.

So far, the ingredients aren’t very appetizing. Add 1 cup of sugar.
The sweetest part of the Easter story is that Jesus died because he loves us. He wants to us to know him and belong to him. Read Psalm 34:8 and John 3:16.

Beat with a mixer on high until mixture turns white and stiff peaks form.
The color white represents the purity of those whose sins have been cleansed by Jesus. Read Isaiah 1:18 and John 3:1-3.

Fold in the broken nuts. Drop by teaspoons onto a lined baking sheet.
Each mound represents the rock tomb where Jesus’ body was laid. Read Matthew 27:57-60.

Put the baking sheet into the oven, close the door, and turn the oven OFF. Give each child a piece of tape and seal the oven door.
Jesus’ tomb was sealed. Read Matthew 27:65-66.

Go to bed.
Explain that they may feel sad to leave cookies in the oven overnight. Jesus’ followers were sad when the tomb was sealed. Read John 16:20-22.

On Easter morning, open the oven and give everyone a cookie. Notice the cracked surface and take a bite. The cookies are hollow!
On the first Easter, Jesus’ followers were amazed to find the tomb open and empty. Read John 20:1-8.

Don’t forget to let me know if you give this a try!!! Enjoy!

March 17, 2009 @ 7:00 am | Filed under: Family,The Solid Rock,Uniquely Me

I – like most women – value security. There’s comfort in the familiar, reassurance in the mundane. We know what to expect, and pretty much when to expect it. While this life runs the risk of skating dangerously close to BORING, I have to say I prefer this ride over the wildly unpredictable roller coaster of the UNKNOWN.

But sometimes the normal – the FAMILIAR – can breed mediocrity and we begin to give less-than-our-very-best. When we finally get brave enough to truly face the situation with clarity we can then – and only then – summon the courage to venture into newer, unfamiliar waters. It is only there that we can meet newer, more mature challenges. And, really, it’s the challenges that promote personal growth. And personal growth is what we all need, isn’t it? Once in those waters…

I might weep. Grieve, even. My spirit and my soul tend to lay claim to my every thought and action. I don’t want to make a change. Even so, life is all about change. In no way at all do I want to miss out on what God has for me for fear of the unknown. With hesitancy, I feel myself being drawn to the deeper things.

I allow the waters to suck me into their uncertain depths.

I may retreat for a while. Retreat from all the noise, all the distractions, all the pulls of the world around me. I might share with no one the conflicting and warring emotions tugging for proprietorship in my soul. I enclose myself in the only place I know will bring healing and hope for my bruised spirit.

And then I pray.

You know the kind of prayers I’m talking about. The ones that seem to claw their way from the innermost parts of your being. The ones where words elude you, fail you, yet you pray on, your spirit interceding for the human being that you are. But it’s only in those moments of uncertainty, of brand-spanking-newness that you somehow sense that in your trevail you are giving birth to something new.

So I surrender.

Once in the murky, uncertain waters of what I once perceived as scary territory, I discover treasures. Pieces of beauty that I would never have seen otherwise. My eyes adjust to the dimness of the situation and I became still, doing the only thing I knew to do. What I’ve always been taught to do. Be still, and know that I am God. Verses from the Bible became my food. Lyrics from songs became a healing balm for my soul. Worship – though often wordless – brings a quenching to my thirst.

After a while, I realize I no longer flail at the water surrounding me. No longer struggle against the lessons these depths are trying to teach me. Acceptance, slow yet persistent, begins to inch its way into my conscience. And then the AMAZING…

…the healing of soul and spirit comes to me.

I break the surface again, and breathe in great gulps of fresh peace. I’d gone under in a black-and-white world, but now the colors around me bloom with vibrancy and brilliance and techni-color supremacy. The scales are gone from eyes, the pain gone from my heart, and doubt gone from my spirit.

I am different. Yet the same. I’ve released the familiar. Yet I’m more comfortable than ever before. I stand still and KNOW. I have moved into the deeper waters. I have security that cannot fail.

I am no closer to knowing my future. Some dreams may come true. I may have to bid good-bye to still others. There will no doubt be days that appear cloudy and uncertain. There will be days when the familiar once again blankets me, lulling me into a complacent existence that feels wonderful, but has the potential to stagnate the growth that I crave. And then it will be time for my focus to change again.

All that I am, all that I hope to be, is in HIM.

That’s it for me. Nothing else matters. There’s comfort in that. It’s familiar. Yet it’s ever-changing, pulling at me, tugging on my heart’s door – begging me to come deeper still.

And so I will. I’m letting go and moving willingly into the deeper waters.

And in that movement I’ll know POWER.

And in that power I’ll know LOVE.

Tags: living simply

March 12, 2009 @ 8:25 am | Filed under: 5 Minutes for Mom,Faith Lifts,Family,The Solid Rock

I posted over at 5 Minutes for Faith today. Come by and visit!

Happy Thursday!