Wind Behind The Manna


“There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but  what are they for so many?”  John 6:9

Jesus’ plan has always been to use His people to do His work.  A boy provided the meal, simple and meager as it was. Jesus touched it and then the disciples distributed it to the people.  The meal would have been nothing without Jesus’ miraculous touch.

Continue reading “Wind Behind The Manna”

Not Just One Bite


“Gather the pieces that are left over.  Let nothing be wasted.”  John 6: 12

Jesus fed a crowd of 5,000 with one boy’s lunch.  Each person ate until they were full though it would have been a miracle if each person had gotten just one bite.  In the past, when hearing this story, I often missed that reality.  To further astound the reader, I realize from John’s account that there was food left over! Continue reading “Not Just One Bite”

Mis-judged Kingship


Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, withdrew again into the hills by himself.  John.6: 15

After Jesus fed five thousand people, He was so extremely popular that the crowd wanted to hail Him as King.  But Jesus, knowing He had come to die and His Kingdom was not yet of this world, had to withdraw to a private place to escape this public ceremony. Continue reading “Mis-judged Kingship”

The Danger Of Miracles


Rabbi, when did you get here?  John 6:25

Jesus intended to go to Capernaum.  Getting there meant crossing a body of water.  The only boat available for passage, however, had left hours ago with His disciples in it.  Jesus is not trapped.  He simply walks on water to join His disciples in the middle of the sea.  Meanwhile, the crowd that He fed the day before with five loaves and two fishes goes to search for Him.  When they find Him in Capernaum they are puzzled and ask, “Rabbi, how did you get here?” Continue reading “The Danger Of Miracles”


WRITTEN IN 1997- The year God dismantled my world and started rebuilding me from scratch to the glory of His grace.



I was born in winter and died the same year.

A heart can’t grow in stark sterility.

Any chance of life beneath the ground was frozen and pressed into the cement of frozen soil.


And so winter came and went and though I died, I lived.

I kissed the promise of springtime.

My passion of youth breathed life and tried to join creation in its new beginnings.

But the gentle rain was really a downpour; my seed too fragile to sustain itself.  All hope washed away with floods.

Yet all around me, others grew and survived the rains.  They thrived…and I watched…and lived some more.


Summer’s sun matured all those around me.  They grew tall and strong.

My chance to grow had passed by me; all hope baked by the heat of the sun.

“Fire and heat refines”, I’m told, but for me, it kills.

My process of dying is perpetuated by the deceptive beauty of the seasons.


I rested and finally lay spent in the fall.

Fitting; while everything around me did the same.  I was in sync for a brief moment with the rest of humanity.

I could pretend that I was resting from all the growing; just like them.  But only I knew that my seed of life never gasped its first breath of air.

The autumn gave permission for all of life to rest, stop. They did and I did. But I planned to stop forever.  After all, autumn is the time to die.



I met You, Jesus, in the winter.

Funny, it doesn’t feel like other winters.  The cold blast of air is but a game for two; frostbitten noses ~ connecting playfully.

The winds howl, but I rock in your arms safely, snugly.  The warmth of you spreads throughout my being, thawing frozen parts…making them supple, healthy and pink.


Your breath ushered me into spring ~ effortlessly.  I was a tender chute, tucked into the rich fertile soil;  watered, tended, protected by the watchful eye of You.

The gentle rains came; you stood, watched my roots soak in the moisture.

We tipped our faces to the warm drops and sang to their rhythm.

Moving across the ground in threatening speed, you sheltered me and I felt only raindrops, for you took the storm in my place.

In the resurrection of spring you threw me into the air with careless abandon. I was caught by the wind, propelled by hope, and kissed with promise.


You blessed my life in springtime. I played with you in summer.

You taught me laughter, lazy days, giggling ~ blowing bubbles, flying kites, floating on our backs on a mirrored lake ~roasting marshmallows, napping in a hammock ~ sleeping on a Sunday afternoon with the warm, balmy breezes wafting through the screens on the windows.

During this summer, I did not measure to see if I had grown. I just plain forgot ~ lost in the joy of you and the lessons of being.


I was awed by you in Autumn.  I’m tall, alive, and free.

The many shades and hues of rich earth tones remind me of the richness and colors of your love.

The chill refreshes me and as all around die their natural death I believe in their resurrection; I have lived to see my own.

I finally rest. Not to die as autumn suggests, but to rest and evolve in the company of your heart.

I know a love that transcends all seasons.