Shine a Light

Welcome to Day 29 of the series Speak Praise as part of the Write 31 Days challenge.

We guided her, blindfolded, up the walkway leading to where her little friends had hidden themselves awaiting her arrival. I held her small hand and steadied her, counting, “1...2...3...” and removed the handkerchief from her eyes.

Friends jumped from their hiding places to shout, “Surprise!!!”

She couldn't have been more full of joy than at that moment! Bashfully she blushed behind the drape of my sweater, biting back shyness to receive the love. Giggles erupted from down in her chest as her friends swarmed around her with hugs and wishes for a happy birthday.

We celebrated as we always should celebrate the gift of a life. With fun, friends, balloons, a pinata, presents, and of course cake! She stood at the edge of the table eyeing the sweet pink swirls of frosting as sweet as the life she lives. Candles lit atop the cake representing five years she has been the light of our lives.

Joy Echoes

"Joy is the hearty echo of God's great love for us."

--Margaret Feinberg

Morning song bird on the eaves speaks, and my girl asks, "What is it saying?"

I am nudged awake. How long have I been deaf to the melody? Like the bird at the window, the reverberations of God's love notes are echoing throughout creation.

And here? Right in front of me, my little girl–the one who never stops talking these days–asks me the questions that I should be asking. All the wonder singing back at me. How many times have I tried to silence it?

She is my back seat driver, providing direct commentary along our daily route, unrolling her questions for miles. It feels at times she may never stop talking. I'm provided great insight into the inquisitive mind of my young child.

Sometimes if I'm listening right, it's as if from the mouth of a babe she speaks words instructed by heaven and it silences the enemy and my doubts (Psalm 8:2).

“Mommy? Why did God give you only one?”

It hangs there for a moment...like feathers on the air when a bird's been caught in the cat's mouth. I'm dumbstruck. The profundity stops me in my tracks.

How does she know the question of my heart? Oh, Lord, you examine my heart...you know everything before I utter a word (Psalm 139:1-4).

The best teacher may respond to a pupil's pondering by echoing back the question. And the Lord, my Rabboni, uses my own child to ask it. I look back in the rear-view mirror at her soft round face, those apple cheeks, her deep brown eyes staring through me.

“Only one what, Honey?” But I know what.

She says it clear, “Why did God give you one child?”

The answer chokes in my throat. It begs to be said aloud. I need hear it for myself, declare it in faith:

"Well...I believe God has a different story for each person. Mommy and Daddy prayed a long time for a baby, and you are his gift to us. I believe God has a very special plan for your life."

http://jesshekmanphotography.com/

http://jesshekmanphotography.com/

I recall being in the second trimester of my second pregnancy, womb swelling with hope. My mother-in-law prayed over me, that God would restore the years the locusts had eaten (Joel 2:25). The pain from losing her own son to suicide just three years prior left a gaping chasm in our souls. But do you know the thing about empty spaces? They are never so big that Jesus can't fill them.

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy. PSALM30:11

Sometimes our long interrogations of God are so repetitive and rambling that we begin to hear the sound of our own voice resonating back. All the whys, what-ifs, and maybes clink like wishing pennies tossed into the dried up fountain of a hollowed out heart.

Don't waste a moment more pining after what could have been or what might be with eyes and ears turned inward by discontentment. What we perceive as the silence of God may be the muted waves of his love tones stopped at the breakers of our heart.

Tune the ear to his Spirit and hear the song of the Lord. We can learn the notes only by way of listening for his melody and then respond in harmony. The days are brief and they are teeming with life. Let me spend them speaking back praise and I will say it out loud! God.is.good.

To the end that my tongue and my heart and everything glorious within me may sing praise to You and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever.
PSALM 30:12 AMP

(Our humble thanks for the newborn photos, those five years ago, to our good friend JessHekman Photography)

Rejoice. Pray. Thanks. Repeat.

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.
 --I Thessalonians 5:16-18

We moms love our routines. The predictable, the workable, the structured control that makes momma feel sane and the kids--well, they need it. It's been a week-long relay to hold it all together, and dinner is a struggle, and here we are at the steepest leg of the race. We finally reach our breaking point. I'd like to think that after a few years of the same routine that we'd have it down...Maybe one day.

But what really ends up happening is we keep dancing the same clumsy steps and playing the record on repeat. What did Einstein say about insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

It's the week after Easter, aren't God's promises still fresh on our hearts? Joy to those of us who are being save.

We read in the first chapter of Acts that during the forty days following his death and resurrection, the risen Christ appears to the apostles from time to time, proving to them in many ways that he is actually alive. He talks to them about the Kingdom of God and about the promised Holy Spirit (Acts 1:1-5).

On the day of Pentecost the Holy Spirit comes upon the apostles for the first time! We see the transformation of Peter, who had three-times denied Jesus, as he begins walking in the power of Christ. We listen in as he delivers passionate sermons in the presence of the religious high counsel. We witness as the apostles perform miraculous signs and wonders.

And I can't help but feel like somehow, I've been missing out on something...

So this month following the resurrection, approaching the Pentecost, I wonder: What does it even mean to be filled with the Holy Spirit? What if the same power and passion that impelled the apostles to preach the gospel, to heal the sick, to persevere through suffering, is for us? Today. 

What if I lived today like that? Like when the Spirit of Christ himself filled and empowered his followers to do and to be all he called them to. If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit (Galations 5:25).

I think about those fruits of the Spirit that I have long suffered to bear. Striving to reap the benefits of the power to become a better mother, wife, and friend. Even to fulfill part of that great calling in Christ to make disciples (Matthew 28:19). And momma? There are those little ones hugging our ankles whom Jesus welcomed freely because he knew they would be his greatest disciples. Yes, we are making disciples of Jesus...everyday (Luke 18:16).

I had read it in my morning devotions, but twelve hours later I am like the woman who looked at her face in the mirror and then went away and forgot what she saw (James 1:19-25). It's something about bath time that turns our home into a scene out of the pages of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Sitting near the edge of the bathtub, I help my daughter wash her hair. Why is it always so difficult? She is excited and careless and I get splashed in the face. I'm fuming frustration. My shrill voice startles even me. Her big round brown eyes blink hot tears. “Momma, will you forgive me?” Grace. It is in the receiving as much as the giving away.

Conviction from the epistle burns into my heart like hot embers... about being quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to become angry... Count it all joy when you meet trials of various kinds (James 1:2). What was that about joy? A fruit of the Spirit?

It was printed there on the page of my devotional: Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus (I Thessalonians 5:16-18).

And here's the rub – I see it tucked away there in verse 19:

Do not stifle the Holy Spirit.

Ouch. It hits me like an arrow between the eyes. I'm thinking, how do I not stifle the Spirit in my life?

The dots all connect like the shining pegs on a Light Bright.

• Always be joyful.
• Never stop praying.
• Be thankful in all circumstances.

For this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.

But it's so hard. This dying to self. Had I forgotten about grace? How because of the empty tomb I could awaken to life?

A big fan of Ann Voskamp, I've started my own list of counting one-thousand things I love, and here it is. The secret to joy. You have shown me the path of life, and you will fill me with the joy of your presence (Psalm 16:11).

Record-scratch. Lift the needle on this revolving record. God does not always work in formulas. Neat, predictable, ordered patterns that always give the same result. Been there, done that. I fall flat on my face trying to run the course in my own strength. This is not a color-by-numbers.

Being a Christian is not a check list of rules to follow and then you've got it all figured out. God's people already did that, remember? Thankfully, we are in a new covenant of grace. This is a covenant not of written laws, but of the Spirit --That old way? Leads to death. And I have killed joy in trying to keep it-- But the Spirit gives life (2 Corinthians 3:6).

Yet this? It's so simple it's profound.

How can I kindle the Spirit's fire in my life? These are baby steps and I'm learning to walk in it:

Joy.

Prayer.

Thanks.

In all circumstances.

This is God's will.

It's joy that runs over the rim of my cup. I bite into joy and the sweetness runs down my chin. Taste and see (Psalm 34:8).

Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit (Psalm 51:12 KJV).

It's prayer that humbles me and brings me to my knees at the foot of the cross. “Prayer, to be prayer, to have any power to change anything, must first speak thanks:

In every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God (Philippians 4:6).

“Prayer without ceasing is only possible in a life of continual thanks. How did I ever think there was another way to enter into His courts but with thanksgiving?” (Voskamp, "Praying Grace", One Thousand Gifts Devotional)

Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name (Psalm 100:4 KJV).

It's thanksgiving that has me counting daily graces. But we do not give thanks for the circumstances – which fluctuate between good or bad as we perceive them – but we give thanks in and inspite of our circumstances because God is good. Because God.

I will offer you a sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the LORD.

-- Psalm 116:17

Update:

The weekend of Easter I challenged myself and a dear friend to three-days of counting graces. We were surprised by the joy. And it didn't end there. Do you know what we found as we searched for wisdom as if hidden treasures...? We found the empty tomb. We found Jesus.

Day 1 - Jesus' death - Gifts of Comfort: mother and child cuddle; cup of coffee; a good book.
Day 2 - Jesus is risen - Gifts of Renewal: a good night's sleep; songs of worship; time with family.
Day 3 - Jesus appears to disciples - Gifts of Promise: grey rain clouds cloak mountains on a back-drop of sky robins-egg-blue; "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path" (Ps. 119:105); "Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you" (Mt. 7:7).

If you're reading this, maybe you too, are searching. Maybe you are like me and wondering how to live the abundant life Christ promised. The simple answer? Jesus. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened to you.

Jesus walked with the disciples forty days before he ascended into heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father. On about the fiftieth day began the feast of Pentecost, the time when the apostles received the baptism of the Holy Spirit. 

I personally feel the need for accountability, to keep on giving thanks in all circumstances, keep on praying, keep on rejoicing. If we start today we can spend the next 40 days counting gifts of thanks. Will you invite Christ to ignite the fire in your heart? Will you take this challenge with me?

Joy Upsprings

 Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?-- Isaiah 43:18-19

New life sprang forth as certain as a sapling sprouts up from the ground. She grew within me strong with vitality, like a bulb that lies beneath the earth during the long months of germination.

Leaving the nest to cleave to the man with whom I pledged love for a lifetime, we were both filled with many hopes and expectations. Our union was blessed. We talked a lot about our dreams and the legacy that we wanted to establish in our home.

Only four years married, grief entered. Suddenly and tragically, the darling young brother of my groom had gone to the grave. Stepping forward in our grief, we began to foster dreams of new life. My husband and I bought our first home, adopted a dog, and planned to grow our family.

When all the furniture had been moved into our first home, the walls were filled with boxes of belongings brought together in our union. Things of remembrance, pictures that cement moments in time, memories of the yesterdays so newly past, leaving sensory impressions on our souls. Objects signifying vows, accomplishments, permanence. The walls filled with expectation.

Friends and family poured into our home to fill it with gifts and blessings. Prayers poured out that He would fill us with blessing upon blessing, for years with purpose and lives worthy of His glory.

Bulbs of calla lilies lined up in pots on our back patio, waiting to be planted in the garden, like the hopes aligned upon our hearts.

Lilies. They were pinned in the lapels of my groom and his gentlemen on our wedding day. Lilies pure white with peace. My groom's young brother wore one there upon his breast.

Then the flowers lined his processional in memorium. Lilies deep red like the blood that ran still in his veins. And like the blood that ran down from the Cross of Calvary. Pure red that cleanses like snow.

For nearly three years our hopes deferred. Ten weeks my womb carried hope without a heart beat. A dream implanted, not viable for life. Despair cast long shadows across the days.

We were weak and weary with grief. Our souls wore grief like a cloak, draped heavily over the shoulders. Our Savior wore it too, draped like dead weight upon his back, the sins of man. Suffering of the world worn upon those bleeding scars.

Together we had petitioned the Lord in prayer that he would breath life into in my womb. The anointing oil was upon our brows. Oil poured out and tears poured down as an offering.

The voice of our faithful Lover of the soul spoke in a word: Joy.

The oil of joy instead of mourning
A garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair
A planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.

That spring we planted the bulbs in our garden and waited in hopeful expectation. Spring rains watered and faithful sun gave life. Then erupting from the soil faith and love upspring.

For as the soil makes the sprout come up and a garden causes seeds to grow, so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness and praise spring up...

-- Isaiah 61:11

Song of Peace

For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.

-- Zephaniah 3:17

Peace greeted me one evening in Spring. Our nightly routines were in rotation, dishes washed, and trash cans needed emptying. I slipped out the back door to deliver a bag in the bin by the side of the house.

Rounding the corner I looked up at the ripening fruit of our apple tree. Little globes still green and blushing pink like a bride in the presence of her Love.

Suddenly a gust of wind swept the hair across my face and the breeze continued down its directed course disturbing the leaves into swirls about me. Cool currents washed over me, like waves rolling in from ancient seas. Chill-bumps raised the hairs on my skin like tiny flames.

Then, still and small, hidden in the recesses of my heart, a familiar voice harkened.

"Lord? I am listening. What do you want to say?"

My Beloved whispered:

"The wind blows wherever it wants. Just as you can hear the wind but can't tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can't explain how people are born of the Spirit" (John 3:8).

Further still the Bridegroom beckoned me with his persistent seranade, as I heard above me the cries of a dove calling for its life mate. I rounded the corner of the yard where the pines stretched upward in the hues of dusk.

Peace continued his song, drawing me near. 

There. Lighted upon the peak of our home sat a Mourning Dove, its gentle coo echoing between the roof tops.

He will rejoice over you with joyful songs (Zephaniah 3:17).

Laughter bumbled out the door from inside the house. Our little girl played "ribbit and quack" in a tub of bubbles as Daddy puppeteered a duck and frog by the side of the bath.

At bedtime we read stories together, picture books all strewn on the floor. We prayed for peace and gave thanks. I tucked in the wee one, running fingers through softened curls, and sang her favorite lullabies. The music player was on repeat, and this refrain lingered in the room...

Sing of Your unending faithfulness  
That knows no doubt or fear
In the face of all that I don't know yet
Remind me of who You are

Sing over me
Draw me close to rest in Your peace
Sing over me, oh, sing

("Sing Over Me" by Bethany Dillon)