Praying the Psalms

They're old words, these psalms, ancient phrasing.  So much repeats throughout.  Over and over, the word of the Lord stands firm.  The Lord is in his holy temple.  And of course, those unrelenting attacks from wicked pursuers: evil thunders like hordes of wild beast.  The cries of Help! Where are You?  Praises be! keep flying up like desperate predator birds, intent upon heaven, banging their beaks on temple doors.  The psalmist will suffer, will celebrate, will question, and will be heard.

But for all the glory and pomp and exclamation-pointiness of the Psalms, I always want the ancient text to lose its mouldy veil and be fresh for me, be words I can ruminate, chew, suck like candy.  I want the taste of holy when I read.  And every day, somewhere in each Psalm, there is a new flavor I haven't tried before, something new.  When I say the words out loud and then meditate them on the inside, I'm getting a taste of the real God.  He is not musty like old dusty Bible covers; His pages aren't fragile and crackly-thin.  He's alive.  Living Word.  Taste and see.

Easter Rising

I'm not wearing a cross today.  Instead I went with a bird theme: the robin-egg blue feather at my collarbone, and the nest on my ring.  I'm celebrating the resurrection like a phoenix, bird of immortality.  Jesus broke death and its hold on us; he has risen and set us free to fly, if we are willing to wear the wings.

This holy week has reminded me that there is a time for palm-waving, there is a time for body and blood, there is a time for trial, there is a time for prayer in gardens, there is a time for sacrifice, there is a time for mourning, there is a time for empty tombs and strips of shroud, there is a time for recognizing our names spoken by holy gardeners, and there is a time for retelling the story.

Today I am made of feathers, and as I rise, some will fall, lilting down to the old earth beneath.  I wish for sturdy wings.  Jesus, teach me how to work them.  I want to know the way to paradise.  That means I want to know You.

Be Still

I am here in a pocket of solitude, having been away from this blog for a while. Spring has arrived, once again speaking re-creation into this dark world. Glory blooms on trees and bushes, and clouds shift across blue skies.

There is silence around the rustle of old leaves and the warble of trilling birdtalk, so here I sit for a moment to sip it gentle. And this I know about living with a living God:

To abide in the embrace of the Holy One sounds cushy and soft, but it is really a raw and naked way to live. Skins shed, I snuggle into a Lover who, by the nature of His perfection, makes me aware of all my pointy, broken edges. And then He files them down or He hones them. Either way, the transformation is painful and difficult and good.

To remain in Him as He remains in me, to be part of His vine, this is a quiet obedience, being still and knowing Him. The hush of love coming: I could miss it if I didn't reside inside Him. If I'm not a branch of His tree, I might miss the tremble of His movement and starve from the lack of His fruit.

We are creatures made for intimacy with our Creator. We were not made to be self-sufficient but to lean into God, to live in communion with the divine. And the holy marriage between God and His people is meant to yield beautiful and bountiful crops, food for the world: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of everything is always always always love.

"I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you're joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can't produce a thing.... Make yourselves at home in my love." (John 15:5, 9 MSG)

God is the Great Controller.

I am thankful that God is sovereign, in control, and capable of mighty things.
Three gifts from God's Word that remind me of these comforting truths:

"He is before all things, and in him all things hold together." (Colossians 1:17)

"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." (Ephesians 2:10)

"Behold, I will create a new heaven and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create, for I will create Jerusalem to be a delight and its people a joy." (Isaiah 65:17-18)

Instructions for a Year of Hope

My son's recent memory verses are ringing so necessary in these ears of mine:

"Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you." (James 4:8)

One glance in His direction, and He is upon me. One name, Jesus, spoken from soiled lips, and He is healing me.

God, I'm nestling up so I can feel You breathing.


"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith." (Hebrews 12:2)

I am a text written by a holy God, who edits my mistakes and revises the life I keep screwing up.

Lord, I'm looking to You and holding fast to Your words. Keep my mortal pen out of this book; I want You to be the writer, and me the story You tell.

2011 Surrenders to 2012: Year of Hope?

This old year has ended, time spent, it is finished. All the "this too shall pass"es I have spoken, well, those too have passed. Yes, there is residue of pain, footprints still visible in soft wet sand; not all the hurt has washed away. There are consequences of this year that remain. But the immediacy of certain changes and the actual happening of events have slipped beyond the reach of today into the backward glance of yesterday. And I am grateful that some things are in the past.

It was the Year of Surrender. I let go and let more go and let more go. When sacred things are taken from you, it is time to surrender it all to God, who is trustworthy and will return the important stuff anyway, redeemed.

I'm thinking this new year might just be the Year of Hope. I need to handcuff myself to the idea of hope for a while so I can figure it out. Is hope a joke? What is worth hoping for? Isn't hoping a foolish endeavor? Is it good to be that kind of ridiculous fool?

I enter a new year with trepidation and fear. So many unanswered questions, so many decisions to be made, so many changes await. I don't know if I'm up to the challenge of all of this. But I hear God's voice crying out to me, loud, He wants me to hear this today:

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I give Egypt for your ransom, Cush and Seba in your stead.
Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give men in exchange for you, and people in exchange for your life.
Do not be afraid, for I am with you." (Isaiah 43:1-5)

Holy God, I am just one flawed woman, a child before You, passing through rivers and walking through fire. I need to know that You will go with me. I thank You for loving me as a precious daughter and ask You to lead me to the right kind of hope. Walk me within the walls of Your will; promenade me upon the paths of Your plan.

2012... Guess I Should Dust Off That Old Gratitude Journal

I'm taking Ann Voskamp's dare to continue counting gifts in the new year, and I'm following her January prompts. Today: what I'm reading, making, and seeing....


a good devotional and an elegant love story

a knit-list of my days, the moods of my year of being 35, each stitch a prayer bead

wise men who seek God's Promise, and I join them, this journey to approach the manger