When Love is Hard to Discern

Sometimes love seems hard to discern.
I mean, the divine love, the God-love.

When you feel that despite your best efforts, your life is out of control.
When you feel on the verge of a physical, mental, emotional breakdown.
When despite thorough studying and many prayers, you get a C on an exam.
When you come down with some variety of bug you picked up on a quick trip to Phoenix.

There are many things that happen on a daily basis that can make you question Love.

But I've found that actually, the reason that love is hard to discern is not the fault of Love.
Rather it is my problem because I have the wrong perspective.

It's like picking up glasses with the wrong prescription and expecting things to be clear.
You'll never see clearly until you have the right prescription.

And so it is with life.

Because when I realize my life is out of control, I run to Him for wisdom, not myself.
When I am on the brink of a breakdown, I cling to Him for strength, energy, renewal.
When I get a C, I realize that it's not the grade that really matters in the end, it's how I handle it.
When I come down with a bug, I'm thankful it's the weekend, and because of it I have a quiet Sabbath.

Through all these I realize that my God does love. Very much.
And these things are but proof of that love.

Love is only hard to discern when you have on the wrong glasses.

"He has given you continual evidences of His love in that He has given you adversity time and again..." 

*The Upward Look, 208

Gift for the Minion Girl

"Therefore [because I am to be a beacon on a hill] the Lord is waiting to bestow kindness and favor on me despite the fact that I am His inferior. He arises to shower compassionate love and mercy upon me. He is a God of justice. If I wait for Him, I will find happiness." {Isaiah 30:18, my paraphrase}

I blink twice, trying to absorb Hebrew meanings.

Hello? This is me He's talking about.
Me. His little minion girl.

The girl who falls and makes mistakes.
The girl who gets herself into trouble with her choices
The girl who is trying but so often falls short of God's ideal.

Yes. The very one.

God is waiting — patiently, anxiously, longingly waiting.
Waiting to give me every good thing, every kindness, every favor that heaven could bestow.

Yet it's a two-sided agreement.
He waits for me. I wait for Him.

Waiting is best rewarded in solitude.
"Quietness and confidence shall be your strength." {Isaiah 30:15}

I must wait more.

A Father's Love

[written a couple weeks ago]

I toss. I turn. I pray.

My pillow grows wet with tears.  

I have a friend on the line. 

And I am desperately clinging to the feet of Jesus. 

Desperately. 

Hours pass. And yet I wrestle. 

And suddenly I am struck by this thought.

If I can so love, be so invested in one individual, if my heart can feel like it is breaking for one…

What does my Father's heart feel like when He has seven billion people to cry for?

I'm thankful He loves. I'm thankful He cares. 

And I'm thankful He sees where I do not. 

Transfigured.

This morning it's like I'm there. Standing. Speechless.
Watching while my humble Teacher is unveiled to be the King of glory that He really is.

I want to take off my shoes, but I can't.
I want to do something, but I can't.
I want to say something, anything that would fit the moment, but I can't.
I'm glued to the ground, hands behind my back, lips sealed shut.

All I can do is observe in silence.

My eyes flit back and forth between faces like a dancing butterfly.
This glory, this radiance, is too much for me. Yet then I hear a voice speaking.

I turn to identify the source and abruptly realize, it's me. 

What in the world am I thinking, saying, doing? 
You don't just go and interrupt a divine experience like this!

I clamp my mouth in silence while my mind does a virtual replay.
Tents? Tabernacles? For Beings accustomed to golden mansions? Blinded moment.
If only I could rewind ten minutes and try again, prepare a script, something…

Suddenly I hear a voice from the sky declaring my Master to be His Son. Then all is hushed. Glory is gone.
I feel a penetrating gaze upon my flushed face. It's as if He can read my mind.

"It's only when you dare to speak, my child, dare to do for divinity, that you can be transfigured. Even if what you say is illogical and what you do is awkward. It's the heart I see, the heart I pay attention to.

"Don't be afraid to dare for Me, for as you do, you will be transfigured.
And it's when you're transfigured that you can truly begin to know My heart."

Dare to do. Dare to be.

Transfigured.

Faithfulness for Faithfulness

[In reading back through my journals, I came across this entry from two Christmases ago. It's as poignant a thought now as it was then…]

Oh for more time… There have been countless things from recent days that I’ve been wanting to record in my journal yet alas, time is slipping through my fingers like water and so many things will probably remain unsaid. But I must tell of His faithfulness. He is always faithful… Faithful to sustain, faithful to give, faithful to comfort, faithful to love, faithful to bless, faithful to me. 

Throughout the past few weeks I’ve seen His faithfulness time after time despite my errors and mistakes. And I’ve been thinking back to His faithfulness over 2,000 years ago… when He faithfully sent His Son, His only Son, to redeem this wretched, lost world. 

                                     ~ ~ ~

I cannot even imagine the heart-wrenching tears shed that day, so long ago, when the Father gave up His Son. The pain, the agony of separation, the immeasurable sacrifice and most of all, the knowledge that victory is not necessarily certain. Eternity’s future rests upon the success of the mission. The wicked foe will try his hardest. 

All Heaven feels the solemnity of the moment. The final embrace, the final words, the final smile among tears as Son assures Father, “It is for love, Abba, for love… They are Ours. I must redeem them. There is no other way to pay the ransom. There is no other way to annihilate sin forever. There is no other way to demonstrate Your true character to the world. There is no other way for them to understand divinity except if displayed in humanity.” 

There is a pause. The unspoken pain of separation is felt. Father and Son have never been apart before. And through the eyes of Heaven, the reason for estrangement seems hardly worthy. Angels look on in wonder at how heavenly beings can treasure marred, sinful creations. Yet love is stronger. 

The Son speaks a last time with tears in His eyes. “Oh how much I love You, My Father! Oh how much I love You! ” And then He is gone. The throne sits empty. All heaven is silenced. The attention of the universe turns upon planet Earth, upon the young virgin, with growing stomach. 

After what seems like an eternity the momentous night arrives. The young couple arrange to sleep in a dirty stable. Sobs of angels ring throughout the heavenly courts, yet they know this must be. All Heaven holds its breath. Suddenly a penetrating cry breaks the atmospheric silence. Jesus is born. Heavenly beings look on in astonishment, hardly comprehending that the tiny bundle could be the King of the universe, the One who just days before was commanding the heavens. Yet indeed it is He, born a helpless, tiny babe, born to save.

For thirty-three years heaven continues in tense observation. The throne remains empty. Joyous songs remain dimmed. Once again we find a silent Heaven anxiously observing another night in history. Yet this time, it is not a baby’s cry they hear but a cry of heartbreaking anguish and soul-wrenching pain. They see Him, apparently forsaken by even His Father, still acknowledge His love and forgiveness to the undeserving. Sobs again fill the atmosphere of heaven. Finally a cry rings throughout the universe. “It is finished.” All Heaven stirs. Victory is assured. The King has conquered! 

Eager anticipation mounts as angels are selected to make the triumphant flight to earth. Heaven sits on the edge of its seat, waiting… Finally the command is given. Trumpets sound and the quickest flight to earth is made. The leading angel throws the stone aside. Moments seems to drag by. Suddenly there is movement within the dark and dusty grave. Christ steps forth victorious! 

After remaining on earth just long enough to comfort the heart of a weeping woman, Christ ascends to His Father. He has waited thirty-three years for this. Tears mingle with smiles as Father once again embraces Son. Heaven is reunited. Finally the Father speaks. “Welcome home, My Beloved and Only Son… You have vanquished the foe. You have conquered sin forever.” Angel voices chorus, “Hallelujah!” 

And yet, though sin was defeated over 2,000 years ago, our world still exists in its deplorable state. The reason? We have not returned faithfulness for faithfulness. Human hearts have waxed cold. Christians are content to live a lukewarm existence. I see careless indifference on every side. My soul burns with agony. 

But like the faithful few of long ago, there are a handful today who recognize the faithfulness of the Father. Although the depth of sacrifice is beyond human compensation, they loyally give what they can in return—their faithfulness. 

Will I be found faithful to Him who has given all for me? 

Measure of Love

I walk in early morning darkness, dawn barely touching the skyline. Gloved hands covering my ears in an attempt to keep warm. I pray and ponder.

What is it to truly follow the footsteps of One who went before?

I've seen plenty of good weather Christians, those who follow when the path is smooth and easy. But when it turns steep and sharp rocks cover the ground, when the trail turns into a muddy mire, when thorns pierce tender feet, it's easy to turn aside. Because following in His footsteps hurts sometimes. I know. I've been there.

Yet there is no middle ground. 

Either you follow or you don't. 

I think of Joseph. Unconditional following. From a favorite son to a common slave to a trusted servant to a condemned criminal to a prime minister. 

I'm sure he wondered why God was leading him on such a rough pathway, but he chose to trust, chose to love despite the hard lessons taught in this school of adversity. 

"If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." {Luke 9:23}

You only "come after" one you love or respect. How much you follow depends on how much you love.

The question is,
How much do you love Him?

What Are You Doing Here?

Sometimes you just have those moments. Moments that slap you in the face and demand a reason why.

And you don't have one. 

Or if you do, it's an excuse that doesn't hold water. 

I've been there. Far too recently. Far too often.

The still small Voice whispers when you're finally quiet enough to listen.

"What are you doing here?"

My silence deepens. I have no answer. Because really, I'm the one who got myself into this mess. 

It wasn't His fault. And any defense I attempt to make will just look foolish.

I know why I'm here. Really, I do.

It's just difficult to admit that to Omnipotence. 

Because if I had just claimed Power, things would be different. 

Yet He offers me angel food and angel water. Heaven's fare. 

And I'm nourished. I can listen again. And hear the Voice. Still and small. 

He says, "Go."

And I return to the place where I last saw light, where I last had victory. And go forth to conquer. 

This love, this pursuing, amazes me.

I go.  

To Know His Heart [The Making of Heroes Part IV]

Sometimes we see only the love.
Ardent affection springs from our own hearts as we offer Him praise.
We warm His heart.

Other times we see only the pain.
We instinctively draw back because we don't want to risk being hurt.
We break His heart.

Rarely do we see both and want His heart.
Because our natural tendency is to shy away from pain.

In fact, our reflex reaction is to stay as far away as possible.
And so when we are wounded, we hide hurt, fester hurt, and too often avenge hurt.

We want the love, but we don't want the pain.
And we think we're doing ourselves a kindness… 

A falsity if I ever heard one.

How can we expect to know the heart of God and not know His pain?
We pray to be intimately acquainted with Him, and yet we don't want the package deal.

Is it that we don't trust Him?
Have we forgotten that it's God's heart that throbs with joy and anguish blended, always?

If we are going to make any impact on our generation, we have to know and have God's heart.
And we learn only by embracing both love and pain as He sends them our way saying, Thank You…

He's the Giver. He gives the gifts. And He only gives good gifts.

Consuming Love [The Making of Heroes Part II]

Love is no secret.
(Or at least that's what the world says.)

The only problem is that the majority of the population defines love by the wrong terms. 

The true meaning of the word has been buried beneath the fluff of changing emotion.

And I believe one of the reasons why the number of great heroes in our generation is on the decline is because we don't understand love.

I don't claim to understand Love. Far from it.
But this I know, our love tends to be shallow and the motives behind it, even shallower.




And so our generation is experiencing a critical famine, a deficiency of love, all the while surrounded by what the world labels affection.

It is no wonder that the world is in crisis. Desperate crisis.

The love that we are called to live? It's difficult. It's selfless. It's painful. 

That's why so few demonstrate it. 

Yet difficulty is never a reason to discard. 

Because this love is what will set the world on fire. Combined with prayer. 

This love is the material of the heart of God.
The love that hurts and gives and heals all at the same time.
The love that embraces utter self-abnegation.

The love that gives back a thousand-fold. 

This is the love we must learn. This is the love we must live. This is the love we must give.

Learn Again [The Making of Heroes Part I]

It's astounding to me how easily we glide over the important details.

We see successes. We see providences. We see affluence. We see attainment.
Yet we glibly pass over the grit of life that makes men and women strong.

We read the stories of great Bible characters as if they were another strain of humanity, holding unattainable standards for our degenerate race.

Since when has a teenager become the counselor of a world power king? Since when has a young woman been willing to surrender her life for her nation? Since when has a young man become the king's best friend and saved a foreign country from extermination by famine?

Sometimes I wonder who we think we are. Or more specifically, who we think God is…

Has His power dwindled with the passing of centuries? I think not.

Rather I think it is us who have succumbed to lowering the bar.
We have allowed our standards to deteriorate over time instead of rising to meet loftier aims.

What is wrong with our generation? I attribute it to two things.
Shallow love. Shallow prayer.

We've lost grip on the Power.

It's time to learn again. Learn to love. Learn to pray.
And most importantly of all, learn to know the heart of Love Himself.

Live to Sacrifice

It has been awhile since I first caught a glimpse of sacrifice from this angle. Days and years pass. Time slips slowly into eternity. Struggles come and go, some still remain.

Yet as I sit here gazing out my window at the gently falling mist, at the blossoming apple tree, at the outside of my world, I remember.

It's not that I have forgotten. No, indeed.
This thought seared its way into my mind long ere this.

--

I had prayed to be "set on fire" for a long time. Years.
At times I felt it, I breathed it, I lived it. Other times I wondered where the fire had gone…

Yet early that morning as I listened to a friend share, I caught the secret to the fire.

Sacrifice.

It all seems so logical now. An altar is merely a relic without the sacrifice.
Without the sacrifice, there is no fire.

It only makes sense that the altar is the appointed meeting place between God and the soul because it is only at the altar that the fire is kindled. Yet a kindled fire is no security for a continued fire.

Sacrifice must become my life in order to keep the flame burning.

--

This world needs flames—rather it needs fires. Furnaces that cannot be extinguished because they are fed by such devoted sacrifice. A planet of fire fueled by a generation of sacrifice.

There have been in ages past those who have caught this fire. This world will go nowhere if our flames don't surpass theirs.

Live to sacrifice. Sacrifice to live.

He Always Endures More

I climb part of the hill behind our house to my special place of communion. Rugged boulders wait serenely as though they were the thrones of majesties themselves. A cloudless blue sky envelops the world with brilliant rays of sunlight. In the distance I hear cheerful bird melodies while I watch a silvery-blue butterfly rest gently upon my bare toes. It's time to be still…

There are few things I cherish more than peace. 

My mind has travelled thousands of pathways in the last few weeks. Big decisions to make. Places to minister. People to love. 

Yet atop my mountain top perch with a birds-eye view, my mind wanders. 

--

A heavy groan pierces the silence of midnight. The stark moonlight shining through the olive branches seems to cut the blackness like a sharp knife. Huddled beneath their cloaks a few hundred feet away can be seen a few drowsy figures. The entire atmosphere seems triggered, waiting with cold tenseness.

Stillness is broken by a movement in the shadows. A pallid form raises from the hard ground shaking in sobs of anguish. Following the silent path of gravity, blood stains red the place of conflict. With faint but determined voice come the words, "Not My will, but Thy will be done. I choose to surrender. I will give all."

Suddenly His haggard form crumbles to meet the earth. This struggle has drained from Him every ounce of strength. He has made the choice.

--

I review this scene while gazing silently across the pined landscape and my mind returns to the cause of this remembering.

Upon the cross and in the garden over two thousand years ago He shouldered the sins for an entire world of ungrateful creatures.

He took them all. He bore it all. He chose it all.

And yet when everything is said and done, Satan will only suffer for the sins of the righteous.

Christ always endures more. 

His love encompasses, His heart throbs as one in our sorrow, in our agony, in our joy.

He has been through it all, and He understands.

Trust Him.

Qualifications for Mercy

{Jeremiah 44}

It’s a scary thing to have God set His face against you. More than scary… It’s absolutely frightening.

Utter destruction, utter desolation was to be their just reward. Not a cheery prospect.

Yet one small glimmer of hope was still offered.

To those who escaped the sword and returned to Judah would be extended mercy. 

Mercy again? Yes… My God delights to show mercy. There are qualifications though.

“Shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments.”*

My mind instantly jumps to Revelation. It’s a similar expression.

“Here are they that keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus.”**

Two simple things. In essence they sum up the entire plan of salvation. They are an indicator of our spiritual vitality.

When final destruction imperils the world, I want to be found eligible for mercy.

* Exodus 20:6

** Revelation 14:12

Mercy Twice-Over

{Jeremiah 39}

After almost two years of seige, Jerusalem fell into the hands of Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, proving that the countless prophecies of Jeremiah could not be ignored. Although Zedekiah had listened to the counsel of the Lord, he had neglected to follow His commands. Now he was to pay the consequences—bitter consequences.

Yet in the midst of terrible slaughter and captivity, God still shows mercy. Still…

My mind is baffled by such unquenchable Love. My heart is drawn by His compassion. This is the God I adore.

Mercy twice-over. 

A simple act of kindness by a foreign eunuch. 

Ebedmelech, a Jewish stranger, is rewarded with life—life temporal and life eternal—because he placed his trust in Him. God takes notice of the littlest acts of love.

A life of resolute obedience to the voice of God.

Jeremiah, the Hebrew seer, who has been insulted and despised for the cause of God, receives incredible favor from a heathen king. Liberty and safety was granted him. Imagine being told that whatever you say, the captain has been commanded to obey. God never forgets His servants.

Mercy twice-over. Two men rewarded for faithfulness. 

One God who always works all things together for good to them that love Him. Always…

Of Rolls and Rulers

{Jeremiah 36}

Yet another chance, another token of mercy, another gift of grace, another opportunity for forgivenness. How many times can God show His longsuffering? I am filled with awe and amazement at such a God. Humanly, I know I couldn’t bear with such blunt defiance of laws and love. But He delights to show mercy…

It was a roll this time, a scroll containing all that God had declared to Jeremiah, yet another strategy to try to arouse the little bit of piety that might be residing in some hearts. When the king heard, he was driven into satanic fury, cutting the roll into pieces and throwing it into the fire.

But there were a few who were still seeking, a few whose hearts were still open. They pled with the king not to burn the scroll, but his heart was so hardened that he would not listen to them. His life was a sad tale of continued disregard of God’s law.

In fact, the king was not content to just destroy the roll; he determined to destroy Baruch and Jeremiah too. And suddenly we see the hand of God saying, “Here, but no further.” I love this phrase…

“But the Lord hid them.”

And no action of the king could quench the flame kindled in the hearts of these men. They wrote yet another scroll; this one was even deeper and more complete than the last. The enemy can never prevail.

--

This is not just a story from ages past. It is going to happen again, soon. Yes, we will have persecution, but the hand of God will be there saying, “Here, but no further.” Nothing the devil can do will quench our fire.

Nothing.

Undeserved Grace

{Jeremiah 32}

Disobedient. Idolatrous. Defiant. Back-slidden. An abomination.

They didn’t deserve grace.

God had promised “to give everyone according to his ways, and according to the fruit of his doings.” And now His hand of judgment was raised.

Yet after listing all their sins and the punishments which were to be meted out, the tenor of His words change.

“I will bring them back again. I will cause them to dwell safely. They shall be my people. I will be their God. I will give them one heart and one way to know me forever. I will make an everlasting covenant with them. I will not turn away from them. I will put my fear in their hearts so that they will not depart from me. I will rejoice over them. I will plant them in this land with my whole heart and my whole soul.”*

I will. I will. I will.

Why is God so willing to do all these things for an ungrateful, contemptible nation?

I find only one answer.

Love.

Love always wins. Consequences may come, but Love will always prevail.

True, the nation of Israel didn’t deserve grace, but neither did we…

Remember No More

{Jeremiah 31}

“And their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.”*

A quote from Hebrews with direct correlation to Jeremiah 31. Paul mentions this verse twice within two chapters.

no. more.

Let that sink in for a moment.

In the Greek it’s a double negative, in the sense that it’s strengthening the force of denial. 

Not at all. By any means. Ever. From this moment on.

He cannot even bring it to mind. It’s gone forever…

And yes, there’s a myriad of other details in this chapter that justifiably could be mentioned, but I think these three words say it all. Because when God forgives and makes you clean, the truth of absolute pardon can change your life forever.

He remembers no more. Your sinful past is obliterated. 

And He means it.

*{Hebrews 8:12}

Healed Wounds

{Jeremiah 30}

God had inflicted a serious wound. Not out of anger, but out of love. 

Yet because of their ugly injury, all so-called friends of the nation had fled. 

Not one offered medicines of healing. Not one pled for their cause. Israel was an outcast.

Yet that was exactly what Israel needed.

For in the pain and loneliness of feeling utterly forsaken and mortally wounded, they finally sensed their need. 

The concept shared with me by friends seems to jump out at me from the page.

Only when we are broken can we be blessed and transformed.

The Administer of punishment now promised to bind up the very wounds He had inflicted. To heal their bruises. To restore health and that, more abundant than before.

The yokes of bondage were broken. 

The nation that had held them captive so long set them free.

Blessings of fruitfulness and multiplied families were given.

Laughter was again heard within the homes of Jerusalem.

Yes, their wounds were healed by the Giver’s hand. Unfortunately the lessons God sought to teach them didn’t remain fresh in their memory, yet only because they forgot Him again in their prosperity.

--

My vision is expanded. I see new possibilities, thanks to friends who were willing to share. Our experience doesn’t have to follow their example of repeated failure. My brokenness can be my restoration, my transformation. My wound, the cause of healing. My sorrow, my joy.

Through brokenness I can find blessing and in the blessing, forever restoration.

Yokes of Love

{Jeremiah 26-28}

Sometimes God has to take radical measures. 

Sometimes our hearts are too stubborn to be sensitized and softened by gentler means. 

Sometimes it takes a yoke of iron…

He pleads. He intreats. He promises.

Yet sometimes words just fly past our shoulders. 

I think the concept of being yoked has become distorted. We tend to see the negative connotations when that is only part of the definition.

In reality though, a yoke is merely an instrument used to harmonize the work of two into one. To find surpassing strength of two combined rather than one alone. To give greater power, greater synergy and accomplish greater results.

It may be that we break the wooden yoke, yet God just gently replaces it with an iron one. Not in a tyrannical display, but in love alone. The yoke has a purpose in our training.

And isn’t that truly what I desire? To be so yoked with Christ that my every act is in harmony with Him? To find His surpassing strength and the results that accompany it?

Broken Pieces {Beautiful Vessel - Part II}

{Jeremiah 19}

Shards. Shattered fragments. Broken pieces.

The Israelites had made a mess of themselves, no doubt about that. And God was ready to cast them onto the ground like a potter’s bottle to be broken beyond repair. 

It seems utterly heartless. 

How could a God of love execute such fearsome justice?

Yet I realize they were hardened. The material of their hearts was as brittle clay, unfit to be molded. 

He had no other choice.

But the beautiful thing is, although the shards of our sin are utterly shattered, He doesn’t reuse those pieces. He starts afresh with new material.

And the outcome is more beautiful than anything our finite minds could even desire. Yet still He is not satisfied.

Yes, you’ll be used for hard labor and go through harrowing experiences, but He has a special place on His glass shelf embedded with amathysts and diamonds just for you…

And He cannot be truly satisfied until you are there—His beautiful vessel.