I
drove between water because smart and skilled men made a levee and
poured a road out on top. The sun showed through a sky stuffed with
gray clouds and hit the lake tinseling the water and making me cry.
The Lord touched my eyes with tinsel on water and gave me the word to
tell it today. He touches my heart with tinsel and water, and my life
is a wonder. I am distilled
in tinseled water, in the plucks of guitar strings and simpler
things. I’m distilled
in the wisps of wind and warmth of sun and those little
paddle-footed-waddlers
quacking along a grassy path. I’m preserved
in moonshine and fair things. I am
clarified
in
laughter, in the eyes of a caring friend, in voices and cat purrs, in walks on fallen leaves, and thoughts of higher things. I’m
distilled
under warm covers and preserved in gratefulness. I’m purified
in sun rays and sprinkling rain and baskets full of adjectives for
what I see. I’m refined
in vanilla peaches and love, in prayers at the table and on my soft couch. My shelf life has no care for I’m distilled in eternity.
“Come let us reason together”, says the Lord. ”Though your sins be as scarlet, they will be white as snow.” Isaiah 1:18
Snow covered the yard and wind was relentless for days.
Nevertheless, snow is exciting, and tucks one into a cozy frame of
mind, removing a myriad of options from a day off. In the quiet house
clocks tic toc the time, the faucet is dripping away to protect the
pipes from freezing, and cars ease by on a snow covered 3rd.
I sliced a box of plump little multicolored tomatoes and slid trays
full into the dehydrator, but not before saving some of the seeds. I
covered the seeds lightly in a little box of soil and put them near a
window. Seeds have come up with no care at all in past compost piles
and random spots in the yard and garden, so maybe these seeds will find
their way to germination too. They will help with the wait for spring
either way. 😊
I often dream of what I could accomplish if I had a string of days
like this. I imagine all the reading I would do, the notes I would
take, the food I would fix and the plans I would make and accomplish.
Then a day comes when downy snowflakes fall from the sky and into my lap
is a snow day.
And it has happened again, weather that says, “Just cozy up
inside. There’s nothing for you out here. The view out the window is
best.” Rain fell in the night and giant trucks slid over yonder, off the
interstate pavement into the trees and up banks of icy ground. Ice is
nearly non-negotiable and it’s not wise to try, but oh, how we try
anyway.
Black birds visited the yard in a throng, pecking the ground looking
like digital creations. Maybe they are searching for pieces of pecans
discarded by gluttonous squirrels. They all rose and filled the hickory
tree, filling in the gaps left by fallen leaves, but only for a moment
before moving like a black cloud across the lawn to the pecan tree, then
to the ground again before flying away to who knows where. I watched
them from my second story window snapping pictures.
“Come let us reason together.“
I slice the tomatoes and dry them for a day. How different they taste
when not carried in a splash of water, how chewy and sweet. In my
excitement I held one finished piece in the light of my window before
eating it. The winter storm had changed my dead yard to a glamorous, all
white stage where the tomato became a marvel before it. As if before a
spotlight now, I saw the seeds exposed in their deep and secret place
suspended in time, an intimate peek into a scarlet explosion in the
heart of the fruit, like little, fat exclamation points, like
rambunctious, young sperm in pursuit of the egg. I’m shy at the sight of
it. If they had a voice I’d hear shouts of joy and the whisper of…
“Come let us reason”.
It’s been days still simmered on this theme, these thoughts pulled
apart. I started an ancient practice in a jar on my kitchen counter,
fermenting milk. It is silky and white and tart from growing bacteria
that is good for me. Then I dried pounds and pounds of strawberries into
sweet, red chips. Yesterday, I put them all in a plastic bag and felt
so pleased with this work. The whites and the reds glaring again. A
simple, messy life, tucked in a measly river valley town has things yet
to say. Important lines to repeat out loud in my own simple way.
“Come let us reason“
There is nothing more or less going on in this life long mess of
discarded strawberry tops and the feelings and experiences. It is all a
boiled down in a line from Isaiah, older than the kefir grains
preserving the milk on the counter. It’s older than time. It is of the
foundation and that’s as solid as it gets.
“Come let us reason.”
It’s not “Just do what I say!” It isn’t, “Blindly follow me.” It
isn’t, “Let me take you, use you, control you.” It is higher and bigger
and breathtaking.
“Come let us reason.”
Engage the matter of your life and your outcomes with the outcomes of
truth. Reason, dissect, use your intellect. God has nothing to hide.
Lord, how shall I celebrate a new morning? Birds are already singing it up a storm out there, rooster is saluting the morn, frogs in the pond are piping and I, the tallest, weightiest of all sit in a silent stupor. Why is this? They are so fully invested with YOUR purpose, so without hesitation of their call. It is You in their throats, in their chests, in their movement and song. It is Your eternal purpose in them, without choice they go along happily it seems. It is beautiful, sure, purposeful, comforting to know that they will always do what they were intended to do; not robots, but creatures full of divine, unaltered purpose.
It's the creatures with choice that falter. It's us with our own navigation systems that go the wrong direction. It is us with doubts about our purpose that sit in a stupor unhinged. We, often as if sitting behind a curtain, live veiled from the movements of God-- adrift without a compass.
Jesus said he did only what He saw his Father doing. He showed what synchrony between the two can do. When he sparked debate at the temple or stood speaking to the crowds, when he struck out in a boat to meet a demoniac on the other side, he saw it first in the place that we also can see. He did what his Father was doing and put His hands and feet to this on earth. Isaiah 60:l
Every blog has a song inside it. Today a love song because our Father so deeply loves us. Click and loop to hear it while you read. 🙂
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I have pulled up a chair, poured a hot cup, I've had a cleaning cry when I needed to, I've poured it all out and I've kept it all in and found that it's ok either way. I've stayed as long as I've liked, and I've come back when I may because there is time--my lifetime going on forever. The conversation that will never end has been a midnight discourse, a pondering parley, it's been a desperate question with a year's long answer, an immovable opinion remedied with His single word. You're invited into the dialogue, but I've found it is prudent to listen awhile too--listen a lifetime.
I've peered into the Great Story to see some of the first starters like, "Let there be light!" and "Be fruitful and multiply". I've heard the first words of young Jesus saying, "Didn't you know I would be about my Father's business?" Year after year, page after page, His Word permeates the reader, overflowing one's life, bringing eyes and ears alive to Him. It leaps off the page to meet me here in room, in my car, in my world. The conversation has begun, and it will never end, but one must take one's place and join in.
All who call on the name of the Lord will be saved...Romans 10:13
I've tossed silly, stormy questions that He hung straight up to dry. I've volleyed words only to run from His replies, blocking them out, pretending I didn't hear. I've marched into His office, and I've cowered behind the curtain unsure if I had His audience, if I had been heard. I've written Him books and books full of feelings, told Him my dreams and listened to His for me. I've heard that He traces the lines of every word, following along and I've known Him to break right in. He's rang bells to seize a moment with me, He's sent a song to share in my thoughts as I pray. And it's a conversation with no end. You can join in too. Most of you already have.
Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.....Isaiah 1:18
It started for me with a kneeling-prayer on my dad and mom's dining room floor, an admission, a repentance, a glancing back at a self-driven life to say goodbye and start anew, start the conversation that has gone on until now and will go on forever.
Sometimes I step back from the dialogue in ugly unbelief while He moves near. I may falter in my speech while He's finessed a forest for me to find a word in, to feed my ears and eyes His feelings for me and the way forward. I may stutter. I will stammer only to feel the wind and find the sky has coalesced into meaning and direction. I find He has carved a cloud into holy speech, a picture of His written Word. And this conversation will go on and on. If you don't yet know, He wants to talk to you too...but I bet you know.
There have been love notes galore that remind me, "For God so loved the world", and books sent to shake me out of my stupors and into discipline and correction. His words have come by way of men and women speaking His heart's utterance for me.
Do not neglect the spiritual gift that is in you, which was given to you when the prophets spoke and the elders laid their hands on you. 1Timothy 4:14)
I've heard it through signs on the highway, signs in the sky, from stones on the ground, from the mouths of children, the eyes of animals and in any way He chooses to reveal His mind and echo His timeless nature and Word. I posture myself to hear with belief. I exhort myself to listen and join the conversation with all of my heart as His whole world opens to form His-voice-to-see as it did in the beginning.
For what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood from His workmanship, so that men are without excuse. Romans 1:19-20
Looking in the mirror at the curling locks that reach around and down the front of my shirt. It was what I didn't do that created this moment for me. It's been awhile and I don't even know why. The bun or the braid or the pony tail lengthens and I have done nothing about it. And those strands of silver wisping lighter than the black, here they come and I let them show. It's what I didn't do that allows them their time and maybe I look all of my 55 these days because of what I didn't do.
If I didn't worry... if I didn't ...what then? It would take time, but something would grow from that looking away...that ignoring. Like the long curls cascading down the back a slow change would occur from what I didn't do... if I didn't worry, if I didn't.
And it has begun; the slow, the easy, the steady change, the turning of the back to the prodding problem, to the frightful future. To the bad news I turn my back and do nothing...Instead of acting, I just "trust fall" again and again. To the heavy thoughts of days ahead alone, of getting older and when things go wrong, of sickness and such silly things I do not sink into concern. I do not feed the frenzy that comes to me poking, asking, threatening to invade my head and my heart.
Once the frenzy came shouting at me and I pulled up a chair to listen awhile. What if "this"? What if "that"? It shouted. I went for a walk with my friend. 'Round and 'round on the road winding between tombstones and big old trees we walked shuffling a gathering of Canadians into the graves.
I told her what I'd heard and she said, "Rhonda....the Lord! The Lord is already there at the end of each concern and He will take care of you." Sometimes I need a friend to help me in what I shouldn't do. I shouldn't worry. And if I don't something new will grow. It will. And I will look different. I will talk different. A change will come because of what I didn't do.
He who made the Pleiades and Orion, who turns midnight into dawn
and darkens day into night, who calls for the waters of the sea
and pours them out over the face of the land—the Lord is his name.
Amos 5:8
When You speak, Lord, You light a runner’s torch within
us.
We’re compelled to move carrying Your dancing flame.
And after the light burns low,
when the last ember’s glow has just disappeared
one turns to investigate all that You said, this speech
that sprang from the breath of a star; our Morning Star. I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star. Revelations 22:16
Now we hold Your words under a light, still warm
from the fire to study under a lamp Your guiding Words.
Rendered speech too great for me, yet anchoring inside
of me
and now the articulations of Orion drip from the
tip of my own common pen. How can this be?
I’ve become bearer of light, too; His little star.The Morning Star took His rightful place
within us, now He shines.
Oh God, You are the surge
that chases through the cord and brings us into light. We are Your prophesied
walking stars, tipping to spill into the night.
Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky. Philippians 2:15
And I am all human and, as this, I can only try.
We shine within an honor that no one can fully
describe, this privilege of living as God’s image
bearers; His Tribe.
We, luminous
lanternshung up through Christ
against the dark, one by one by one through the ages hung by the Father of lights.
Arise, you who sleep,
Arise from the dead,
And Christ will give you light.
Ephesians 5:14
The morning He set the cornerstone of the
earth’s foundation-- when foundations were laid, angels and stars sang songs of
awe and wonder. In our day, we pick up their chorus. Job 38:7 Beloved, give your praise a song, you walking stars, beloved lights on
earth.Orion’s belt--- truth pulled
tight around your waists.
He looks to earth and sees the darkness lit up, His
racing heart proclaims, “My beloved!
Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever. Daniel 12:3
An old held-back post, or note to self in the blog files. I must have been feeling the battle. ------------------------------------------------- Your life is not about any of this, Rhonda Michelle. All of this only creates the backdrop to the battlefield for your soul and for the souls of others. Your mortgage, the leak in your radiator, your family gatherings, your bank account, Christmas coming, your home, land, your debt, your cars and what is or isn't in your refrigerator are not what they may seem to be. These are not just your life on a Wed. in 2014. They are only the backdrop to your real life.
Jesus prayed for you like this, 5 My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. We are meant to be here, but we need this prayer of Jesus to tread here because it is more than it seems.
Jesus, our glorious man, is not recorded to have concerned Himself much with my list of things in above paragraph, as IF these were not the most important things in life?! What of that!? If He didn't then why do I?
His hike into the wilderness was an epic battle with the devil during a 40 day fast. All my hikes are to see beauty and gain strength. Most of my fasts are because I feel chubby. And when I kayak across the lake it is to feel something, see something and enjoy myself. But in 2014 I'm seeing them all in a different way; they are more. All is more.
When Jesus skimmed the waters of the lake, it was with eternal purposes in his heart. Maybe the beauty of the sun glistening off of the water that day, and maybe there were fresh smells, the feel of the water between His fingers, the breeze and gentle waves making soft sounds against the boat. But He was going to command demons and set a chained man free. (Mark 5) He had the same sort of backdrop as me, but lived out of another dimension. I want His dimension.
With purpose He crossed from life over to death, and to life again to set many more free. And He is pulling back the backdrop of my life so I can live like this glorious God-man.
If my words had substance and could be seen as they launch out, would they lift and fill the morning sky? Would they praise up with the clouds?
If my words spoke out in shades of color, and if they were hot or cold, would my world be bright with rainbows, and would You cuddle in their warmth?
If my words had weightiness and could remain just where they fall, would they pile right up to heaven, and build a monument to Your worth?
If my words were lofty, and could speak to kings and queens, would they hear Your invitation and come to the great wedding feast?
If my words were humble and if they were safe for all, would You trust me with the "least of these", and would You send me to the lost? If my words could reach You, and I know that they do, I would set an echo in the wind to repeat my LOVE for You!
A month or two ago: Marigolds and mums, moonlight and Matilda Jane from the worn porch in Arkansas.
Matilda Jane
Midnight morning glories, as I go inside late, and my home. Men in youthful glory, moms in aging beauty--yeah, it's beautiful being "mom".
Muffled laughter, many voices, moments and memories made. Menagerie and me.
More and more and more in Him who holds that moon up high in the night sky. Manifold awareness of manifold blessing. Mouthing hallelujahs as best as I can and true as it is to me. Sweet moments with my sweet ones. Oh the love, and oh the feelings!
Knowing the rest of being carried many miles, then walking, running and standing in "my place", made by my God for all time. My Maker making my merry heart sound and free--ever may it be. My mounting mosaic. Now the frost has swept away the miracles in buds and blooms, but I'm o.k. with that. And don't think there is only the prettiest of pictures here on this place of mine. Don't look and think only precious moments parade past our path. My pictures are pinches of the whole. Beauty sometimes comes right beside the torrents, don't they? I aim my words and my camera at the beauty. This, a choice offered in the most Beautiful Book---to think of what is good. Philippians 4:8
--Though praise rises from it all-- all is met with Him, not apart from. I have power to pay props in prose. So do we all. Some call this perspective and I like that. And aren't we all free to aim our own lens and focus on what we choose. It's a wonderful, powerful choice.
