Quiet Praise

“What do you do when God is silent?” she asks me on the other end of the line.

And I nod long and quiet because I have felt it deep in my bones, that kind of silence.

It's a silence like I have only heard in the forest where cars and phones and electricity and the hum of technology disappear into a void of non-existence. Each tree containing a type of silence that only creaks as it sways and bends in the breeze. Each blade of grass keeping quiet with the hush of bees wings hoovering near. Each leaf and needle clapping in whisper like worship.

That kind of silence sits in the soul awaiting answers.

I have learned that this kind of quiet proffers praise.

It is in God's silence that I have suffered to learn true worship is an act of waiting.

For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation. PSALM 62:1

When in and among the wilderness, the collective voices of the forest give distinct and recognizable tones. The rustling poplars, the whispering pines, the mocking jays, the chattering squirrels. And I can hear the ways they speak praise with all creation.

All the ways God's love outnumbers the grains of sand, the blades of grass, the heads of wheat, the needled pine, the pedaled wildflower, the hairs of beast, and legs of insect.

And if he loves me in so many ways, might I also begin to count the ways my soul magnifies the Lord?

So that through the seconds, and minutes, and hours, and days, and weeks, and years, I may credit Him with all the loving-kindness and tender mercies he has given me?

What offering is there more acceptable to God than thus throughout the day to quit the things of outward sense, and to withdraw to worship Him within the secret places of the soul?

—Maxims of Brother Lawrence

When God is silent, retreat with him there. Seek him in the quiet place. Be still and know.

Soon, when your heart is humbled and soul surrendered, you will hear that unmistakable still, small Voice, and you will know His heart by its sound.

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)

Growing Pains

www.jesshekmanphotography.com

Oh, the night wakings. Any mother of young children can sympathize with the perpetual exhaustion that follows many sleepless nights. When our little girl was an infant people told me eventually she would sleep through the night...We're still waiting for that. She's four.

God seems to use these long nights to speak to me. He uses lessons that a mother can understand...much the way I picture him doing for the disciples when Christ walked with them, teaching in parables.

We went through a season during our daughter's third year when these wakings were so disruptive that we became desperate to help our child sleep. That season taught me a great deal about being still.

Often in the deepest part of the night, in the stillness and quiet, God reveals his character. And in appropriate fashion, he uses my oft restless daughter to do it.

One night she woke up crying out in pain. She was curled up in her bed with one leg stretched out rigged. In her disoriented state she asked me to put my hand on her leg and pray. This sensitive spirited child has learned that prayer brings comfort – and the source of all comfort is Jesus.

As I prayed over her, gently massaging her little leg, it became evident she was experiencing growing pains. I began to pray that the Lord would remove her pain so she could sleep.

As a mother I wanted to take away the pain so she wouldn't have to suffer (and frankly, so we could all get back to sleep). Yet that Still Small Voice echoed in my heart: The pain is good. Let the pain come.

She asked me if her leg would be “normal again.” In this teachable moment I explained to her that the pains are normal – good even – because it means that she is growing tall and strong. She took comfort in this explanation and her crying ceased.  

“My cries are all dried up now,” she showed me by touching her tear soaked cheeks. The knowledge that the pain was temporary and there was a purpose for it seemed to bring her fears under submission.

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book...I trust in God, so why should I be afraid? (Psalm 56:8-11)

This month we celebrated her fourth birthday. Memories of the day she was born are fresh in my mind. They say that mothers forget the pain of child birth because of the change in hormones, the love bond between mother and child rush through the body as if to wash away the pain receptors. Still, the memories of those hours of labor won't be lost on any mother!

In birthing classes they teach that the pain of childbirth is helpful as it signals each advancement in the labor process and forces the mother to breath and deliver oxygen to the fetus. About ten hours into labor I wanted nothing more than to end the pain. I was losing endurance and believed I would not be able to continue without relief. In my labor experience, it turned out that feeling the pain was absolutely necessary for me in order to advance in delivering our baby girl.

The pain that I had desperately wished away was needed in order to accomplish a very good thing.

I can safely say that I am grateful for the challenges of child rearing which have taught me to rely on the Lord in more profound ways than I can adequately describe. It is through the trials and adversity that God has stretched me and refined me so gradually I begin to look a little more like Him. This has an eternal value I would never wish away. And for the days clouded with exhaustion, I find my rest in Him.

Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me.
--Psalm 54:4

During the terrible twos (and threes) stage of motherhood, I felt truly desperate for help and a good night's sleep. Then I found this amazing book and it couldn't have come at a better time! It's called Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breath by Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson