Pursuit of Peace

From my vantage point it all blurs together. The holiday hustle. Cards on the table waiting to be sent, pile of boots in the entry, revolving door of laundry, dishes in sink after baking. But I've set it in my mind to get on with the next thing on my holiday to-do list.

And I see it here, how the clutter of life can be the outward manifestation of the inward clutter of the heart. A tangle of thoughts loops through my mind like a string of lights needing untangling. And I hear that timeless song loop through the mp3 player, “Peace on Earth, good will toward men.”

In my rush to get on with the cookie baking for the annual party, I knock the bag of sugar on the floor as I reach for something else.

The holiday season can be like this, when we get swept up in the frenetic race of perceived needs and engagements. For some of us, it's all we can do to survive the daily struggle of gleaning sustenance from the toil onto the table. Our bellies growl with the aching-empty. You can hear how the world groans to be filled.

Thoughts Are Fixed

It's a slippery slope. Building worry upon anxious worry, pebbles of worry stones pile one upon the other into a pyramid of lies. And I'm down there clawing like a helpless sheep at the bottom of a ravine, as each worthless attempt to rise above sends me sliding backward to the ground until I am paralyzed with fear.

I am a notorious worrier dating back to childhood with a tendency to internalize and over-think and make clumsy attempts to fix problems. But all this energy amounts to wayward attempts at finding peace and balance.

And you know what? All of the effort to try and work things out in my mind is exhausting and it paralyzes me, stops me dead in my tracks until it renders these useless feelings: I can't be a mom today. I'm too tired to be a good wife. I have too much on my plate to be a friend. Until there is nothing left for me to do, and I'm on my back looking up.

I lift my eyes to the hills.Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip and He who watches over you will not slumber. PSALM 121:1-3

In all of my vain attempts at finding balance--fancy to-do lists, over scheduling, planning, reminder notifications on the smart-phone--am I inadvertently adding to the pile of slippery stones? If I place my feet upon the sure footing of the Word, He will lift me out of the pit and give me a solid place to stand.

In her book, Loving God With All Your Mind, Elizabeth George emphasizes how we must "compel every human thought to surrender to the obedience of Christ."  

But this battle--a battle in the mind and a battle for the mind--is a battle we fight sustained by God's grace and empowered by His love.

Friend, if it's not just me, and you want to put balance back into your life, go to the Rock and plant your feet upon Him. Turn to the Word who is your solid foundation and He will make your path straight. Cast your cares upon Him because, truly my friend, He cares for you. And when the prowling lion encircles you, stand firm knowing you are not alone!

He [will] put a new song in [your] mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him. 

PSALM 40:1-3

Holy Photosynthesis

And the Lord--who is the Spirit--makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image.

2 Corinthians 3:18 NLT

Words hit the wall of the mind spinning like a clothes dryer, tumbling thoughts. I grow irritable by the distractions and chaos. It is the incessant beeping of a car alarm. The barking dog in the yard. The constant chatter in the media. The child's tantrum in a clash of wills. Toys strewn all over the floor.

The noises of the world clatter together in a torrent of sound, drowning peace, blocking the whisper of that still, small voice (1 Kings 19:11-13).

I am looking for a muse, inspiration, motivation to keep on with what is set before me today. The Greeks spoke of a muse who would provide inspiration for higher thought or a divine purpose. However, the muse often accompanied seduction/deception, illicit substances, or summoning supernatural powers that sometimes lured the hero into destruction.

...But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace (Romans 8:6).

Irritability mounts and swells in the chest and it catches my breath. The demands of the day, all the needs – the little person at my feet and the tall man walking through the door hungry for dinner – strapped to the shoulders and I am a tug boat. I keep pulling up river these beautiful vessels with the weight of their loads. In my own strength the tension pulls heavy on my small frame as I chuff against the rippling waves.

Sometimes on these hard days, the ones stacked with both treasures and burdens alike, even all the good things can feel like heavy things.

Have you ever tried to hide from them? The responsibilities? The tasks? The people? I have.

There was this one day, I hid myself in the bathroom – the one place in the house assumed to be a private sanctuary -- sitting alone on the floor I tried to clear my mind. Outside the door were giggles of mischief and I knew she was tormenting the dog again.

I shook my head as it rested in my hands to support the weight of a tired mind, elbows propped up on my knees, with my back against the cupboard. Looking up with a sigh...my eyes caught the words on the print hanging on the wall: The Fruit of the Spirit

love

joy

peace

patience

kindness

goodness

gentleness

self-control

At that moment? Right there sitting on the bathroom floor hiding from my three-foot tyrant of a toddler? I was not any of those things.

As my eyes scanned over that list of what I perceived as personal failings, that Still-Small-Voice broke through: “I am all those things.”

I AM.

All the things.

God is. Not me.

All that I want to be for the people that I love I cannot be. Not well anyway. If I am doing one, or any of these, then I am probably neglecting another. Because I am a fallible human.

The love that I long to display to my husband, my daughter, my family, my friends, those whom I serve in ministry, wouldn't come from my effort but from my surrender.

The peace that I was desperate to find by hiding myself away, closing myself off in isolation and quiet, would not find me until I could be open and receive (John 20:19-23).

The patience needed to bear the burdens of others, whom God had placed strategically in my care, would not be supplied in my own strength but in the handing over.

And there it was. Boldly printed at the top: the Fruit. Of. the Spirit.

All that I long to be for others, do for others, give to others? They don't really come from me. It is the Holy Spirit in me that allows me to do the good works he designed for me before I was.

For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him (Philippians 2:13).

He is the only source that we need turn to in order to find the inspiration to do and to be.

Inspiration. As in “immediate influence of God”.

The Latin root spirare, meaning to breath.

Inspire. In-spire. Breath in Spirit.

The Holy Spirit is my muse.

For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago (Ephesians 2:10).

Friends? As we walk through the seasons of our faith, being planted in the truth, taking root in Christ, growing in grace, flourishing in the Spirit, and bearing forth all the good things, remember you began as one seed.

You are not all things to all people all of the time. You can not even expect to be some things to some people some of the time. You may count on being only one thing for one person one moment at an appointed time in order to do a good work, which God has prepared for you in advance. And be assured that he equips you with the thing that you need at that time to do it well.

Breath Him in.

Exhale grace.

Aren't you glad our God is omniscient? He is all-powerful. Only He is all things to all people all of the time. He is. He was. He is to come. That takes all the weight of my small shoulders.

I am not God. But He is.

Be still. And know.

So it has become my constant prayer:

Lord, here are the things. These are my burdens. Take them up and bear them as you did on the cross. Fill me with your Spirit each moment so that I can walk in the ways you have planned for me today. Help me be so overflowing with your Spirit that all the things I long to be would actually be You pouring over the rim of my glass onto the lives of others. And let it be sweet to the taste and satisfying to the soul. Let the words of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart bless your name, Jesus. Let the deeds of the day, and the truth in my ways speak of you, Jesus* (Psalm 19:14).

*(Inspired by lyrics written by Tim Hughes)

Ready Ground

 
Stand your ground, putting on the belt of truth and the body armor of God’s righteousness. For shoes, put on the peace that comes from the Good News so that you will be fully prepared.

Ephesians 6:14-17 NLT

It's twenty minutes 'til. We're ready. Almost. But where are her shoes? We keep them in the bucket by the door so all she has to do is slip them on, strap on that backpack, grab the keys (and the phone!) and get in the car. Even when we're all ready, sometimes even then, we are not.

Last night was evening prep work. Chopping celery, potatoes, and carrots for the crock-pot roast that will be tonight's dinner. Spread sandwiches, pack snacks, and a juice box for her lunch. Gather show-in-tell items. Set the back pack by the door. We do it every night – right? – this routine that keeps everything running like a well-oiled machine. Almost...

We wash.

Load.

Wipe.

Bathe.

Brush.

Dress.

Read.

Pray.

Tuck.

Breath...

It starts all over in the morning. Hurriedly rushing little ones from sleepy dreamland into a battle zone. Hope they have everything they need – and we need – to be successful today. Like many a day, orders bark loud in that tone that teeters on the edge of patient encouragement and scolding nag.

She plops down on the floor amidst scattered dolls, tiny clothes, and even teenier shoes. “Where is Cinderella's glass slipper, Mommy?” Sigh … There it goes...tottering over the cliff with a breeze of provocation. ”I don't know. Hun. Where are your shoes??? We need to get going!” Sweetly nagging.

Learning forbearance in the face of a ticking clock is not the time for the lesson.

Funny. Rewind a couple of hours. My blinky eyes squint open sometime around dawn. I hit snooze. The pillow feels sooo soft and warm. So I soak in a few more winks beneath the down duvet. Several minutes later, the covers are unwrapped and a comforting robe wraps snugly around my sleepy body. Over the side of the bed bare feet search blindly for wool-lined slippers.

Slippered feet shuffle out to my favorite morning spot, and I sink down in the cushions to read and pray.

Worries knot in the stomach like hunger pangs while the coffee maker gurgles and groans. The soul wakes from slumber hungry.

This is when I break the fast between the preparations and the rush. Another day gets plowed through like dry wheat on rocky soil, arid and thirsty, waiting to be cultivated again.

I am the woman at the well. Empty and weary before the day's even begun.

Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” (John 4:10)

This daily habit of devotional time came from desperate places. On a typical work day, the alarm beeped at 5:30 a.m. waking me to read scripture before getting ready to go teach. Developing a knowledge of the word was my sustenance, readying me to face intense situations as a public middle school teacher.

Put on salvation as your helmet, and take the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God (Ephesians 6:17).

As a new mom I was even more desperate for God's word to get me through many weary days and sleepless nights. More than anything, I desired to live the kind of faith that I hoped to teach my child.

Without God's word as a guide the foot slips, stepping easily back into old footholds.

Let even a few days go by without having the bread of the word and prayer, and the hollow places echo like dust poured out of an empty silo. Come back famished and parched for God's tender mercies. Short accounts are necessary. It's hard enough living the day to day.

For the word of God is alive and powerful... So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most (Hebrews 4:12a, 16).

God's word is vital to our well beings. It's no wonder Jesus said he is the bread.

The soul yearns for more of God's truth and presence. Time spent reading the Bible stops feeling like a duty and more like vitality. Breath it in. Drink it deep. Taste and see.

Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” (John 6:35).

There she sits on the floor of her messy room pulling pants over chubby little feet as she sings it loud. “This little light of mine! I'm gonna let it shine! Won't let Satan blow it out! No! I'm gonna let it shine!”

And I smile.

Okay, God. Got it.

We head to the door and find her favorite shoes faithfully waiting to be strapped on. Now we're ready. Step out in peace, little one. Step out in the light, old soul. Tummies full and feet ready.

Your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path (Psalm 119:105).

Unfettered Grace

Therefore since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up.

-- Hebrews 12:1

It's been a long season of searching -- seasons really -- of trying to understand this grace. I clearly hadn't earned it nor do I deserve it. Yet I kept finding myself in the trap of trying to somehow merit God's love and strive for grace, the ultimate irony! And before I could even begin to talk about the grace God has bestowed through his Son, I had to be willing to let go of that which hindered me in order to receive the gift so freely given.

It all began as a path of healing. Panic attacks had become my modus operandi. Many a day I had longed for peace in the midst of panic. The heart pounding like pistons in the chest, mind tangled with thistles and barbed with briers. In the middle of a siege, overcome by a barrage, arrows of deception shooting through the mind. On the battlefield of the mind, peace is not easily won.

Anxiety is the worry that sits like a rocking chair. I have sat unsteadily upon it so regularly that it is worn in the seat, a spot that feels almost comfortable. There's that incessant feeling of helplessness, like falling through a void, weightlessness catches the stomach, and I reach to grasp at something to hold onto. I am Alice falling through the looking glass. I may end up on the other side of the world, where everything appears upside down, and suddenly I find myself in a room that is too big and I am too small. How ever will I get out of here? Where is the key?

Expectations. Those false hopes I erected upon alters of Control, projected upon situations and circumstances, images of my imaginings, gods of my undoing. I had constructed safe walls around myself to protect against the elements of the unknown and invited others in with me. Surely if I hide them within my walls I can protect them too?

These are the shackles I have worn. Fettered by what I wasn't fully aware had become my bondage.

Being this transparent feels vulnerable. Uneasy. Terrifying even. But then...there is freedom. It is the freedom given by a God whom I could never have constructed and couldn't begin to imagine the depths of his glory. A way made through the wilderness, leading along paths of peace (Luke 1:79). He is called the Prince of Peace because he was born with the singular purpose of being the offering that would close the gap between a holy God and fallen mankind. Peace between God and his creation. The very glory of God wrapped in the flesh of a babe so that the veil that separated our imperfection from God's perfect presence would be torn away.

Back in 2013, the Lord began walking me along a path to discover peace. I spent two years praying for peace, searching the scriptures for peace. A simple truth hit me like an epiphany. If peace is a fruit of the Spirit, then I cannot will myself to obtain peace. No amount of effort on my part will earn me peace. In fact all of my failed efforts at creating peace in my life have been mere facades and were in fact cloaked in pride and the idol of control.

"You cannot have peace with God until you encounter the grace of God."--Pastor Ed Rae

I began praying for more of God's Spirit to fill me and guide me as I longed to bear the fruit of his attributes in my life - love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, gentleness, self control. These things are born of the Spirit. Against these things there are no restrictions. No bondage. Only freedom (Galations 5).

I can only find the freedom I long for in Christ when I welcome his presence and consent to his will in my life. God led me to one startling and simple conclusion: peace is found in his presence. God present. God all here. God with us.

So I step forward into 2015 by letting go of what was behind and bravely stepping forward to receive grace. Because no matter what, when I choose to step out of the chains that Christ has already broken then I can step up to victory. Even if I falter, each stride will be taken by faith and carry me along by God's amazing grace. Each step is a growth spurt in trusting God and continuing to abide in him.

And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. Because of the joy set before him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. 

--Hebrews 12:2

Cultivating Peace

When troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow...

--James 1:2-4

He didn't have to but he did, answering a prayer long hoped for, bending down to become small, lifting up in his greatness. It was through adversity that hope was born. Embracing loss, letting it cut deep until what bleeds out is pure and holy.

I don't ever want to forget the pain because it reminds me of the healing. Recollecting and celebrating what once was fallow ground becoming whole and holy. This should give cause for great joy, again and again. 

“Joy emerges from the ashes of adversity through your trust and thankfulness” (Jesus Calling, Sarah Young).

Having endured the sorrows of the past, I can step forward into joy, accepting each challenge that comes my way through grace, with peace. But, when I get caught up in the snare of fear, instead of choosing to live in the victory already won, my feet trip on the path. I try to pull myself up in my own strength and plow ahead in my own power. Keeping my eyes on my feet I stumble, again and again falling into the trap of discouragement, worry, anger, and fear. These are familiar mechanisms I so blindly put on in place of joy and peace.

(Photo credit: Milada Vigerova/Unsplash)

Daily I pray that I may be worthy of the suffering of my past, that none of it would be in vain, offering it up for God's purposes. In the book of 1 Samuel, Hannah was both barren and favored. She could not produce a child for her husband and yet he treated her with grace. When the day of sacrifice came, 

...to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb (1 Samuel 1:5).

The Lord has given me grace upon grace, for he has made me his portion and he has filled me. When grief was poured out through tears upon the alter, he gave a double portion for me. So, when our little miracle was born, it was in response that we took her to church to be dedicated back to the Lord, following the model of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1:10-11.

Yet without pretense, I confess that the everyday mothering of this gifted child has not been the portraiture of a saintly scene, babe to breast, halo on the brow, sun beams streaming through sacred panes. But it has been this, every day: Humbling. It has been all of these: Tedious. Monotonous. Lonely. Bothersome. Frightful. Nonsensical. Exhausting. And more... But more than any of these, motherhood has proved itself an opportunity to humbly enter into the sacred.

Humble yourself under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up. Cast all your cares upon him for he cares about you (1 Peter 5:6-7).

Don't think that for a moment I haven't been both treacherously appalled by the enormity of the task of raising a child and gratuitously in love with the holy honor of being a mother.

It is grace. I don't deserve this glorious gift--and I scarcely should be allowed to do it.

When a crying infant startled me awake at an ungodly hour and I wanted nothing more than to put the pillow over my head and go back to sleep. When a writhing toddler bellows and stamps her feet in the storm of a tantrum. When the pressure mounts and I bark orders about how to put clothes on and “Can't you do this by now? We're late!” The stained glass shatters in unholy wreckage upon my pristine cathedral floor.

These walls I've built around my piety, archways leading into holy chambers, and pillars erected to great heights of splendor, such grandiose ideals and righteous expectations for myself – for my child. So when it all comes crashing down in a moment, I am left gazing upon the rubble of brokenness that proves that I am only human. Sin scarring my heart and leaving me breathless.

This becomes the prayer of the righteous – the undeserved sinner-saint – a mother's prayer. Jesus, help. I need You right now, because I can't do this. I cannot strive, control, or cajole any longer. It does me no good. Take this child. Use her for your purposes. Don't let me get in the way of who you intend for her to be. Make her life a fragrant offering that brings glory to your name. Help her to follow you all the days of her life, to stand up in her generation for Truth. That she may shine like a star in the universe – in a generation that stands for nothing – that she might stand for Christ.

The full weight of glory presses upon my shoulders and I am grounded and humbled, brought low by the gravity of this honor. God the Father, the Perfect Parent, answers with wisdom, which he so freely gives, instructing this homemaker to become a peacemaker. 

But the wisdom that comes from above is first of all pure. It is also peace loving, gentle at all times, and willing to yield to others. It is full of mercy and the fruit of good deeds. It shows no favoritism and is always sincere. And those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of righteousness. 

– James 3:17-18

Path of Peace

Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.
– 1 Corinthians 13:12 (NLT)

Groggy eyed I groped along the night stand for my phone -- alarm chiming in the start of another day. I flung back on the pillow, my mind attempting to sort through a tangled mess of worries about the day ahead. I hadn't gotten enough sleep. My little girl had been up a few times with bad dreams. During one waking she sleepily tried to relate her dream back to me – not any of it was making sense.

My head sank deeply into downy softness, never wanting to leave the comfort of my bed. “Lord, this is your day. Guide me through it and help me to follow you.” It has become my desperate assurance in coping with the chaos of life; I have come to learn that the best way to be armed for the day is to get grounded in God, sink deeply into his presence.

The blue light of dawn seeped into the room. I stumbled out of bed and fumbled to the kitchen to fetch my favorite mug and pour a freshly brewed cup of coffee. The morning has come to be my most coveted time of day, when I can hold that warm cup in my hand and sit down to read and pray. Pouring my coffee, I glanced at the familiar quote printed on the side of the cup.

My thoughts bumbled down a rabbit trail of distraction... Memories taking me to a time when my husband and I were still childless, wondering and waiting. It didn't make any sense at the time, why we could have gotten all the details right in our young lives but could not control the one thing that should come so easily. Infertility was a word we probably wouldn't have used at the time, but it is a word that haunts countless couples everyday. The one thing that should make the most sense doesn't make any sense at all.

Today, I'm sitting with this cup in my hand pondering in amazement how God took that which made no sense and turned it into wonder. Our little miracle is asleep in her bed in the next room.

Yet, some days I still feel like Alice in Wonderland, tumbling down a rabbit hole, my idealistic spirit carrying me on a chase after a little white rabbit who has aimlessly lost his precious Mary Ann and is in ever so much of a hurry to find her. And I keep on following after, down a trail of nonsense, hurried by I-don't-know-what and frazzled by that incessant feeling of being late!

Do you ever do this? Get caught up in the chase? Whether it be from sheer curiosity, ambition, or misguided desire, sometimes we can find our self being carried along a path and only later stop to think, “How did I get here?”

As a child I related to Alice. All the world around me felt like nonsense, the rules, the order of things, the choices of paths to follow to who-knows-where. It stirred within me great anxiety as I tried to make sense of the insensible.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:6-7).

My mother used to pray this verse over me when I was feeling completely overwhelmed by a situation. The part that always stood out to me was that God's peace transcends – it is above and surpasses our understanding. Our limited knowledge is nothing compared to the peace to be found in God. Even that sounded so lofty to me, as if God was there hovering somewhere above the earth, detached from the human experience. How could a God like this bring peace? What did peace even look like?

I remember hearing somewhere about the “upside down kingdom” of God*. That kingdom where the poor are rich, the grieved have comfort, the meek inherit the earth, the hungry are full, the merciful receive mercy, the childlike see God, the peacemakers are called children of God, and this kingdom belongs to the persecuted (Matthew 5:3-12).

And at this current time in history, that makes very much more sense than anything the world tries to claim. When men, women, and children are losing their lives for the sake of the Kingdom of God, that which is utterly senseless takes on a whole different meaning for those who belong to the “upside down kingdom” of God. As apostle Paul says, “For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21)

Recall the scene from Through the Looking Glass when Alice finds herself face to face with the Red Queen:

“Where are you going? Look up, speak nicely, and don't twiddle your fingers.”

Alice: “I seem to have lost my way.”

Red Queen: “What do you mean – your way? All the ways around here belong to me.”

Jesus warned his disciples that ruler of this age, also called the prince of this world, would have no power over him; but Christ came to show God's love and to do the will of the Father (John 14:29-31). What was it that God the Father required? Now this is where it seems really upside down. Jesus came to give up his life. The thief comes to steal, to kill, and destroy, Jesus says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (John 10:10-11)

Alice eventually came to the end of her path. She plopped down on a rock and began to sob hopelessly that she may never find her way home. Thankfully although it may feel sometimes like we're living in a nonsensical world like Wonderland, we have a different hope, direct access to the promised Kingdom of God.

When it seems that the world has been utterly turned upside down...When suffering, loss, injustice, disease, and death clutter the world with confusion...When it feels some days that we have utterly lost our way...there is a Shepherd who pursues us. When nothing else seems to make any sense, this is one thing that makes complete sense. That the way through this life is to follow the One who guides our feet into the path of peace (John 1:79).

“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” –Jesus (John 14:6)

*Donald B. Kraybill, The Upside-Down Kingdom

**Lewis Carrol, Alice in Wonderland: Through the Looking Glass

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)