Author: Christine Wyrtzen

The Rhythm I’m Meant To Know

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In the daytime, sheep are led into open fields. They eat, rest, wander a little, and stay within earshot of the shepherd. At night, they are gathered back into the fold, where it is safe and familiar. Day after day, night after night, their routine offers security, abundance, and relationship.

The rhythm of a Christian’s life, the person who knows Jesus, should also be one of resting, grazing, and working.

·      When I feel threatened by circumstances or just my own fears, I run back to the shepherd and the safety of the fold. My heart may be beating wildly, but when I stay close, I’m not exposed. He gives me a place to breathe again. Real rest isn’t something I earn; it’s something He loves to give.

·      When I’m following Him, there is always something to feed my soul. His Word is like a pasture that doesn’t wear out. It must surely resemble the lush green landscapes of New Zealand, the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen. Take a backcountry road, and what you see around every turn is another pasture dotted with sheep. Each view is a postcard.  That’s how stunning Scripture is when I come hungry.

·      When I’ve been fed, there is work to do. But it’s not the kind of work that uses me up and leaves me empty. The same Shepherd who feeds me is the One who calls me. He doesn’t hand me a heavy assignment and walk away. He walks alongside. He carries what I cannot. “My yoke is easy and my burden is light” becomes something I experience, not just quote. Work inside that kind of relationship is a joy, not a sentence.

When this rhythm is mine, the rest of the Psalm begins to feel very real and possible.When this rhythm is present, the rest of the Psalm begins to feel very real and possible.

Your pastures are good, Jesus. I have rested. I have eaten. I will work joyfully beside You. Amen.

I Shall Not Want For What?

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I shall not want. Psalm 23:1b

The Christian life is a steep climb.  With every ledge we reach, the view changes. Scripture that once felt like a simple sing-song memory verse suddenly opens like a canyon ~ deeper and wider than we first knew. “I shall not want” is one of those lines.

Right now, I’m doing one of the things I love most. It’s 2:00 a.m. I’m on my porch, the low Corinthian bells are ringing outside my window, rain is whispering on the roof, and I’m talking to Jesus at length. “Come sit with me and listen to the rain,” I say. “I’d hungry for you to teach me something.”

These midnight rendezvous with Him are precious to me. And as I sit there, the familiar words of Psalm 23 come to mind. But they feel different, weightier: I shall not want. How many times have I carried false expectations into that verse? I’ve read it as if God were promising to fix whatever I think I need fixed.

But then I remember the confessions of my spiritual forefathers: Pressed, persecuted, in danger, misunderstood. This is not the fine print. This is the path. 

What, then, is actually promised here—if not a life where every circumstance is neatly repaired?  I must go back to the beginning of the verse.  The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.    

I will not want for a shepherd.   That is the promise.

I will not lack a wise Guide, a strong Protector, a tender Friend. I may carry a “thorn in the flesh,” but I will not lack the grace to bear it. I may weep over losses I do not understand, but I will not be abandoned in them. Life is not “fixed” yet. Hard things remain hard. But my deepest need is already answered. That part is settled.

Life isn’t fixed yet but my need for a Savior and constant Friend is.  No matter what may come – I shall not want.  Amen

Why A Shepherd?

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The Lord is my shepherd.  Psalm 23:1

Shepherding was a common occupation for those in the Middle East. The Patriarchs were all shepherds, as was Moses and, of course, David. The terrain and geography of the area lent itself to the raising of sheep. Everyone was familiar with shepherding so no wonder God used it so often in the writing of the Scriptures.  The people to whom they were first written had a working knowledge of the concept.

But here’s the thing ~ The motif of shepherds as leaders is not exclusive to the Bible. King Hammurabi of Babylon called himself a shepherd.  Homer, in his writing, refers to Greek chiefs as shepherds of their people. The royal staff, or scepter, a common accessory for kings in the Ancient Near East, was itself a form of shepherd’s rod. Shepherds commonly used long poles such as these to poke around crevices in caves to scare out scorpions and snakes. It came to be a symbol of protection, power and authority. Even in Egypt, a divine symbol of kingship was the shepherd’s crook.

However, God wants us to know, since we understand shepherding, that He is the ultimate Shepherd.  With the perfection of His shepherding, He takes this concept to a level not present in any other cultures.  It makes sense that God would ask this question in Jer. 49:19. 

Who is like me and who can challenge me? And what shepherd can stand against me?”

As righteous a ruler as King David, his shepherding of Israel was imperfect.  As successful a president as Abraham Lincoln, his shepherding was imperfect.  As loving a father as you and I may have had growing up, their shepherding was imperfect.  Shepherds are flawed human beings, products of the fall.  The sting of their failures to guide, protect, and care for us can be devasting.  At some point, they will fail to guide; they will lead us astray.  At some point, they will fail to protect; the result is a loss of innocence.  At some point, they will fail to care for us; our needs will go unnoticed or even worse, they will be ignored.  The result is a rejection so deep that only God can heal it.

The Lord is my shepherd.  The Lord is your shepherd.  One of the great proclamations of the God of Israel is this ~ I am God and there is no other.  Today, I lift up my hands and worship with this prayer ~  

You are my Shepherd and there is no other.  You saved me from wolves. You added me to Your flock.  Now, with Your staff, You guide me to perfect pastures.  Amen

Food Inspector

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Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.”  John 6:35

Jesus often speaks of the new birth in terms of coming and believing. Here, He adds two more verbs so I don’t miss the point: coming and believing are like eating and drinking.

  • A culinary expert sits before a table overflowing with food. It is a feast—colors, textures, and fragrances all arranged with exquisite care. She circles the table slowly, studying every dish. She leans in to catch the aroma of a steaming platter, letting the herbs and spices tease her imagination. She tears off a corner of warm, multigrain bread, feeling the crisp crust and the soft interior. “Perfect,” she thinks. She analyzes, describes, evaluates. Later, she will write a beautiful article about the experience. But she never actually eats. She leaves with eloquent words and an empty stomach.

Nicodemus came to Jesus like that—curious, respectful, intelligent. He had a fascinating, late–night conversation with the Son of God and left with his mind full… but his heart still empty. I am unsettled by how many people can talk about the Bible in an informed way, but rarely speak of Jesus with the warmth of firsthand love. They master the text but miss the Person ~ kind of like a spiritual food critic. Bible study must be love–driven. Insight is not the main course; it is the byproduct of having actually dined. 

I think back to how many times I sat through the Lord’s Supper and missed its deepest meaning. “Take, eat… drink this cup.” It’s called communion.  A shared life.  A shared table.  Yet, I treated it as ceremony more than encounter. Now I understand a little better: He was never inviting me to analyze the meal. He was inviting me to partake of Himself.

Lord Jesus, I come, I believe, I eat, I drink. Amen

Beyond What Is Earthbound

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“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?”  Psalm 56:8
Comfort. It’s an embrace when I’m crying. A listening ear when I need to process. A soothing, gentle ballad when my anxious heart needs a non-verbal touch.  All of these offers something extraordinary, but each one is earthbound. They are tangible, yes, but limited.  I need something intangible and limitless.
El Roi is intangible. I am spirit, and I must relate to Him in spirit. This takes more effort and more discipline. It’s easier to replace Him with temporary substitutes.  The problem is ~ they only satisfy for a brief period before I need more. Friends return to their lives. Hugs last only seconds instead of hours.  Teacups eventually empty. Blankets don’t have arms. And, songs end as the noise of life returns.
The world right now is a brutal place to live. Comfort is sometimes challenging to find.  There is only One who can put iron in someone’s spirit.  Jesus knew our problem of reaching out for care and compassion but coming up empty. That’s why He said, “I’m sending you a Comforter.” The Holy Spirit of El Roi brings what earthbound things can not.  He sees us and offers to be a permanent Companion.  He, alone, is able to write hopeful words across the landscape of my desolation.
 

The Humblest Suffering Servant

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Blessed is the man whose sin the LORD does not count against him. Psalm 32:1

The children of Israel knew well that God judges sin.  They experienced it firsthand. For them to believe that God would send a Messiah for reasons other than judgment was a stretch.  Never could they have imagined that Jesus would come, not to condemn but to extend mercy. 

Why, at the announcement of salvation, might I prefer condemnation?  I contend that self-hatred is addictive.  I’d rather despise myself than let God love me.  I can be like those who sinned against God in the wilderness and then refused to look at the serpent on the pole to be saved.  They nursed their grudges against His holiness and preferred to self-destruct. 

I’ve gone so far as to admit my guilt, confess it, but then wallow around in it, insisting that I don’t deserve to be forgiven.  Self-condemnation feels justified and quite comfortable the longer I wear it.  I throw myself a long pity party and shun the Forgiver. I feel quite powerful as I exert my freedom to say ‘no.’ Satan celebrates when this kind of twisted pleasure keeps God’s creation from salvation.  

Jesus did not come into the world to judge it as proven by sacrifice.  He affirmed that sin must be judged and paid for, but then paid for it Himself.  Oh, to have paid such a price only to see people reject the gift of this expensive pardon.  Jesus is the humblest suffering Servant of all.  

Does my own self-inflicted guilt keep me from receiving Your forgiveness?  Break my chains.  Amen

God’s Throne and The One Who Wanted It

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They remembered that God was their Rock, that God Most High was their Redeemer.  Psalm 78:35

One day, when Earth was still a barren planet, a sinister plot was being carried out in heaven.  Satan, one of the three archangels who enjoyed top level authority at God’s right hand, decided that he was entitled to more.  He set out to promote himself.   I will climb to heaven and place my throne above the highest stars. I will sit there with the gods far away in the north. I will be above the clouds, just like [El Elyon] God most high. Isaiah 14:13-14   With this twisted ambition, his gifts were corrupted. 

We must make a distinction between wanting to be like God and wanting to dethrone ‘God most high’ from His place of authority. This was the subject of John Milton’s famous confrontation in Paradise Lost.  It was clear that Satan’s ambition was to overthrow God, not emulate His holiness.

The price for setting oneself equal to ~ or greater than ~ El Elyon is a steep one. It was catastrophic for Satan, who lost his position in heaven, was judged, and then permanently expelled.  His ultimate end will be in hell, the place God created for him and all of the angels who defected with him.  

This kind of pride and entitlement are still rampant.  Satan, the god of this world, is driven to replicate his evil traits.  His children (Jesus called them children of the devil) refuse to bow down.  They are puffed up and exalt themselves as rulers over their own sphere of influence.  When those around them pray to thank God for divine provision, they are quick to say that they’ve made their own way.  Anything they enjoy is the product of hard work and ingenuity.  Know anyone like that?  

God is patient, giving such sinful men time to repent but grace has a time limit.  One day, they will face Jesus and will bow down.  It’s a certainty.  For every person who didn’t do it willingly on earth, their end will be a tragic one.

After this sobering review of Satan’s history, I lift both hands towards heaven, align myself yet again with El Elyon. I lay down pride and ask for the grace to be humble.  I forsake entitlement in favor of trust and gratitude.  I want to be like God most high, following Paul’s encouragement from Ephesians 5:1 Therefore, be imitators of God, as beloved children. 

When Nothing Feels Safe

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The wicked lie in wait to destroy me, but I consider all your testimonies.  Psalm 119:95

This world offers us no real stability. Sooner or later, everything we lean on begins to shift beneath our feet. If our security is in a job, we live with the quiet fear of losing it. If it’s in money, we feel the tremor of every wobble in the economy. If it’s in a person, uneasiness rises the moment their humanity shows through—selfishness, fragility, inconsistency. All of these crack the illusion of safety. And when wickedness enters the picture, our sense of well-being can feel threatened to its core.

A person who has “set their sights” on God’s child—especially when their heart is open to Satan’s influence—does not simply forget and move on. There is a dark, persistent mission at work. When the believer is blessed, they secretly long for calamity. When God’s servant stumbles or suffers, they feel a twisted satisfaction. They rejoice over the bad news of someone God loves.

One of the hardest parts of today’s scripture is this: David eventually called some of his former companions “enemies.” Elsewhere in the Psalms, he writes with raw honesty about betrayal from those he once trusted. That kind of wound cuts far deeper than the opposition of a stranger.

And the sobering reality is this: not all wickedness is far from the things of God. It can live under the same roof. It can sit in church pews. It can share our last name. The people closest to us can quietly “have it in” for us. We sense it—even if it never erupts into open hatred. We feel their discomfort with our good news, their private relief when we fail, their subtle delight in our humanness and weakness, and their envy of our gifts. It is the kind of hurt that is hard to forgive because it taunts us in the dark. The enemy loves to run those scenes on repeat in our minds.

Into all of this, God offers Himself as refuge. “Hide me,” becomes our prayer. We hide ourselves in the Word—ultimately, in the living Word, Jesus—and discover that His comfort is enough for every trembling moment.

He understands betrayal from the inside. He received the kiss of Judas and all that came with it. He felt the fickle devotion of the crowd—celebrated with palm branches one day, shouted down with “Crucify Him!” the next. When the ground beneath His feet shook, He slipped away to pray. He went “home” to His Father for stability, strength, and reassurance.

He has already walked the path we are on. And in His footsteps, we find our own way forward: not by denying the pain, not by pretending people cannot wound us, but by anchoring our hearts in the only One who will never change, never betray, never rejoice in our hurt.

When everything else shifts, He remains.

Every word I need, You are.  Amen

 

The Wind and the Ordinary

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He walks upon the wings of the wind; He makes the winds His messengers, flaming fire His ministers. Psalm 104:3-4

I’m an over-achiever. I like to work hard and feel that I accomplished something. I enjoy stretching myself to learn new things. While none of these are bad traits, in ministry they can be dangerous. I can begin to believe that my efforts are what yield success. I would do well to remember that humans only generate earthbound results. Only God gives rise to true spiritual outcomes.

Several years ago, I had a vivid dream.  I was mixing together three unlikely ingredients in a bowl to make something to eat.  Jesus was standing nearby so I asked Him about it. “What is this going to be, Lord?”  He answered, “It’s going to be manna for the people you’ll be feeding in my name.”  I was surprised because the ingredients were such that you’d never mix them together to create anything appetizing.  So I said, “But how will these three things produce something edible?  I don’t understand.”  He laughed and replied, “The secret is in the wind.”

With that I felt a gentle breeze enter the room.  It blew over the ingredients and stirred them up so that they rose into the air to form a swirl before settling back into the bowl.  The Spirit had touched the common ingredients and transformed them into something supernatural.

Wind has always been a sign of God’s presence.  Wind and breath are often synonymous in scripture.  Jesus breathed on His disciples and filled them with a power beyond themselves.  No longer limited but Spirit filled, the Gospel message would spill out of their mouths with power and passion. Continents would never be the same as these ordinary men were transfigured into agents of heaven. Without impressive credentials, people would say of them, “We can tell they have been with Jesus.” The spiritual wind accompanied them. It disturbed the deep. The vast emptiness of people’s souls was filled with the Bread of Life.

Come, Holy Spirit, to my ordinary world.  Amen

Faith Is a Filter

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Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act. Psalm 37:5

I delight in the heart of Scripture, and I delight in the hearts of people. My life has been one long, ongoing conversation—learning my own soul, learning God’s character, and paying close attention to how He has wired others. Tools like Myers–Briggs, DISC, and StrengthsFinder have simply given language to what I love most: helping people see how they’ve been uniquely crafted, so they can bring their whole selves honestly before God.

Here’s the downside to knowing and understanding people. Not only do you discover their strengths, but you also come to know the depth of their weaknesses. When challenges come their way, you see 10x more pitfalls than most people because you know how they process life. The better you know them, the more you are tempted to worry.

This is my summer to more deeply address my lifelong battle with worrying, fretting, fussing, and anguishing. Though I teach Prayer Mapping and the language of faith, it continues to be my greatest struggle. Perhaps that’s why I’m so passionate to teach it. People who take the course can assume I’ve conquered it and have become some kind of expert. No, I’m living the challenge. Martin Luther said, “We teach best what we have had to learn most.”

I heard a bible teacher once say, “Faith is a filter.” That caught my attention because faith is the opposite response to anxiety. Faith reminds me that God is ruling when it appears mayhem prevails, God is watching when I fear He’s lost interest, God is active when I see no evidence of it, God is omniscient and I am not, God is sovereign over all surprises, God is redemptive when life seems full of wasted pain, God is fiercely protective when His children are vulnerable, God is just when evil temporarily prospers, God is a faith-giver when I’m running on empty, and God is a Father who is never fatigued, distracted, nor disinterested. “Let faith arise.”

Birth faith in new places. Deep places. Amen

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