Isaiah 26:3
You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast,
because they trust in you.

Doesn’t it seem like ‘those whose minds are steadfast’ will already have peace? Which then implies that it’s possible for us keep ourselves at peace. Which I don’t think is true.

(Mulling it over.)

This is a logical statement. There is an “if this, then that” relationship happening. The logic is this: if I am trusting You, God, my mind will be steadfast AND You will keep me in perfect peace.

Trust links these things together. Trust… unwavering, unshakeable confidence… resting in the fact that God is in control.

Maybe when I trust, my mind won’t be filled with worrisome ‘what-if’s.’

If I trust this way, my heart will not waver. My HEART will not waver. So I would have both a steadfast MIND and an unwavering HEART.

That would be new.

What would I spend my time thinking about if I wasn’t buried in “what if”?

What would you think about if you weren’t worrying?

Mom.
Wife.
Worship Leader.
Writer.
Gardener.
Cook.
Jesus – follower.

ugh.

The daily mental battle of never quite being able to do enough. Never quite hitting all the marks.
Marks which, of course, are self-assigned, arbitrary, and mobile.
So I –we– chase and strive, encouraged to do so by every speaker or writer who is motivational by nature.

Exhausting.

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light. (Matthew 11:28-30 NLT)

I’ve always loved that Jesus said that. But I do wonder sometimes what it really means, what it really looks like, to carry only what Jesus gives, to wait, even, while also carrying out his instruction to go…  do … and run.

Any thoughts?

This year at our church we decided to take a more intentional approach to the season of Lent. I got to have a part in creating some of the resources for this (which you can take a peek at here), so I did a lot of thinking about how I wanted to participate in this 40-day journey. And I had a great little plan all worked out.

Then I found out that I was going to have major surgery on Ash Wednesday. Which dramatically changed my plans for that day, and many days to follow.

I write this just a week later, and I’m recovering well… no worries there. But I have strict orders to maintain a low level of activity for a few weeks. I find myself spending many days in a row at home, with almost no constraints on my time. My Lent plans have taken a dramatic shift.

I’m taking this opportunity to read, write, and think on larger things. What blog posts I do write in the next few weeks will come directly out of what I read in scripture, nothing else.

This is what seems good and fitting for this season. I hope you have found something that will help bring greater depth and meaning to these weeks leading to Easter.

When you come to the prairie for the first time, you notice the sky.  Admittedly, that’s not the first thing you notice; first, you simply cannot believe how flat is the earth, how sparse are the trees, how relentless the wind, and how absent is green. 

And then you look up.  And you realize you were wrong about the dominant color of the landscape being brown because you have never encountered so much blue in your life.  This is a pure blue… on a clear day it stretches all over the place, everywhere. It is relentless. So much that it hurts.

When I first drank in the powerful beauty of this sky, I couldn’t stop looking at it. It was immense. It made my eyes ache; all the ‘blue sensors’ were on immediate overload. So I had to look away. Still, it was visually intoxicating.  Look at it… too beautiful… look away. Could we capture it, I wondered, this blue that is painfully pure? Have we ever been able to replicate this? in t-shirts or Martha Stewart paints or something? 

Recently I realized that this is often my response to something with great beauty that can only be attributed to God’s work. I want to capture it somehow, or I want to turn away. Take a picture, record the moment, or escape. A tremendously moving experience in corporate worship will leave me desperate to replicate it, or in a hurry to shake it off as quickly as possible. A moment of emotion over the beauty of a redemptive story… I want to figure out how to bring it to my church or I hide and move through the emotion as quickly as possible.

There is no basking.  Apparently, I am not a natural ‘basker’. 

All these things– a blue sky, the mystery of worship, the power of redemption– are God-created, and we simply cannot replicate them.  So I wonder… is my response the normal human reaction? I want to capture this thing, this moment, but I can’t, and I also can’t withstand the purity of it, so I turn away. It’s a burning bush thing. It’s a holiness thing. 

Beauty. Holiness. What is your response?

I was introduced to ‘Da Jesus Book‘ this week.  It’s a translation of the Bible into ‘Hawaii Pidgin’ dialect. I find it amazing that there are people who spend their entire adult lives immersed in culture and language so the Bible can be translated.

So anyway…. my favorite verse (John 10:10) in Hawaii Pidgin:

Da steala guy, he ony come fo steal, kill, and bus up da place. But I wen come so da peopo can come alive inside, an live to da max.

So… this day… go live to da max.

‘The Boy Who Changed the World’ by Andy Andrews, illustrated by Philip Hurst,  is an engaging book written for children but destined to be a favorite of adult readers as well.  Andrews weaves together the true stories of four boys to illustrate the Butterfly Effect, which, in its simplest form, says that what we do matters. 

The story begins with young Norman Bourlag playing in his family’s cornfields. Norman grows up to develop a new kind of seed to grow plants that feed billions of people. Norman changes the world. 

But Andrews’ skillful writing reveals that Norman didn’t do this all by himself; his story is intertwined with the stories of others… and thus we are off on a charming ride of childhood inquisitiveness and grown-up determination.

Andrews’ tale speaks to all of us about how we affect each others’ lives. There is great value in using the things we love to help other people. And anyone, no matter how small, can change the entire world. 

This book goes on my list of favorite childrens’ books and will likely find it’s way into the hands of the people I love the most.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a review copy of this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze.com  book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. 

I’ve been working hard at really trying to listen to God’s voice.

I’m not good at this. 

Seriously. I know that God can speak any way he wants.  I know it’s not confined to me sitting by myself with a journal in a meditative-y sort of mood. I know God speaks through people, through nature, through the experience of driving on a busy highway. But I also know I need there to be times of silence in solitude, and I need to ask the question “what are you saying?” And I need to keep my mind quieted for the answer.

Did I mention? I am not good at this. 

God, how can I serve you and really love other people today?

(ouch my foot hurts. wonder if that’s from…. wait, I didn’t actually DO anything yesterday to my foot. Wow I was such a slug, actually. I really need to get into the habit of exercising. Did I remember to send that permission slip to school? Dang it. I forgot to talk to so-and-so about what we’re going to do for communion 3 Sundays from now.  I really wish someone else could make those arrangements now and then. It would be so great to have a couple of Sundays off.  What kind of job would I want if I didn’t have this one? But no, wait, I know… this was a ‘calling’. I can’t ignore that. God called me to….ohhh no… )

God, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how you can stand it! Please help me listen to you and quiet my own frantic voice! ugh…… 

This is what happens when I attempt to really tune in to what God might be saying.  Over and over. So every day I try to put my own whirly brain-voice in the ‘time out chair’ to allow God’s voice to be heard. I know from experience that when I stick with this, it gets easier over time. I am more tuned in to what God is saying and what He’s doing throughout the day.  Just like any discipline, it’s this first stage that is killer.

So I’m sticking it out and I’m forcing myself to quiet down. And I’m listening. Perhaps I’ll tell you sometime what I hear….

In the book, Chan quotes George Bernard Shaw:

“This is true joy in life, the being used up for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.”

I don’t want to be a feverish, selfish little clod.  But I know I am sometimes because I totally get that description.

I think the hard part, besides the inertia of our clod-ness, is making sure we’ve found something that we recognize to be a ‘mighty purpose’.

Have you found such a purpose?