Galleries

Listen to the LORD who created you, to the One who formed you says, “Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine.   Isaiah 43:1

Brennan Manning said, “We often feel like the homely peasant girl for whom the king has come to take a bride.” Our sense of self-condemnation often causes us to back away from God’s call to live as His beloved. We feel unworthy. Our pride says that we can’t believe His words. Our understanding of love has been compromised by our experiences with others as we have all felt degraded, excluded, ridiculed, passed over, and a host of other things related to rejection. Memories fester in our souls, and infection grows with time. 

No one gets to define my worth except my Creator. Not a parent, not a caregiver, not a teacher, not a pastor, not a child or spouse. Only God’s opinion matters because His Word trumps all others. He says I’m cherished, and that must be lived out by daily acts of faith.

Many were made to feel unworthy by their parents.  They were never anyone’s priority.  Work came first.  Or other children were preferred.  Perhaps the ministry even trumped their importance. Spouses can also tragically communicate that their mate isn’t worth much, and children often tell their parents, “You’re a bad father or bad mother.”  We tend to absorb their opinions of ourselves.  We rationalize that these are the ones who know us best, so they must have credibility.  No, not if their opinion contradicts God’s opinion.

How do I live cherished in a world where few are cherished?  I believe my Father’s proclamations of love, by faith.  I am no longer to be ruled by the hole in my soul. The story becomes a narrative that I can tell others to extol the Fatherhood of God.  My life is no longer a tragedy.  Though it contains tragic elements, the overriding theme is joyous redemption.  I’m a Daughter of Promise, and every single thing is safely under God’s providence.

It was nearly time for the Jewish Passover celebration, so Jesus went to Jerusalem. In the Temple area he saw merchants selling cattle, sheep, and doves for sacrifices; he also saw dealers at tables exchanging foreign money. Jesus made a whip from some ropes and chased them all out of the Temple.  John 2:13-15

Each of us have things that are almost sacred to us.  We might display them on a wall, under glass, or in a shadow box.  If it’s a document, such as a commendation or award, we might laminate or frame it.  We put important papers in a file folder and wouldn’t think of folding them in half, lest we crease them. And then there’s love letters.  We fasten them with a ribbon and tuck them away somewhere safe because having someone trample on the sacred evokes strong emotions. 

My mother, the year before she died of cancer, made a quilt for Ron and for me.  There was no sewing machine involved.  Every inch of it was hand-stitched.  I often told her that it looked like she used a machine – so precise was her hem stitching.  About ten years ago, I took it out of my cedar chest to discover that there were rips along the corners of more than a few patchwork squares. Years of tugging at it during the night had taken its toll.  I was shaken by it, so the first chance I got, out came my needle and thread. 

If unraveling on my prized quilt could undo me, can you imagine what Jesus felt when he entered the Temple and saw what was happening in His Father’s house? This was the place where atonement was made for sin.  This was the place where the rich and the poor alike could bring their best sacrifice and know that there would be no respecter of persons.  But on this day, everything holy was trampled. 

The priests were crooked, causing people to wonder if God was crooked as well. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?  The face of God is always marred by crooked religion. God still gets angry when His character is misrepresented. The very people He created, the ones He sacrificed His Son for, will be the ones who don’t trust Him.  For this, Jesus made whips and disrupted commerce.  Woe to the shepherds who cause the sheep to stumble over the God who loves them. 

You fought with us in mind.  And still do.  Amen

The Lord will give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, but your Teacher will no longer hide Himself—with your own eyes you will see Him. And whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear this command behind: “This is the way.”   Isaiah 30:20-21

On some future date, far beyond the life of Isaiah, Jesus and his disciples will be in a boat in the middle of the sea.  The opposite shore will be nowhere in sight.  It will be dark, and the sea will be churning.  Uncertainty and fear will overtake them.  Jesus will appear, walking on the water.  He will say, “It’s Me. Don’t be afraid.”  Like a child whose parent shows up to take care of everything, fears will turn to calm.  Pounding heartbeats will normalize.  Adrenalin will subside.  Awe and unworthiness will wash over them as the power of their Savior is made evident.

All of us are navigating our lives.  There’s often no light on our path. Wisdom for the next step is completely elusive. The shore is behind us. Everything familiar is out of sight.  We are in uncharted waters, feeling inadequate.  The sea is churning.  Passages are difficult.  Reaching a distant shore seems impossible.  Fears are intensifying.  Rational thoughts are no longer within reach.  The roar of the waves bombards our senses.  What next?  We cry out to Jesus.

Where is He?  He’s right there in the middle of it, asking to be invited into the boat. “It’s Me.  Don’t be afraid.”   He has not hidden Himself from us.  When sought, He will be found.  Faith reaches out and is rewarded. He alone is our anchor, our deliverer, and our comfort in the waiting.

Never has a voice been as sweet as Yours, heard beneath the noise of my life.   Amen

Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, “Give me a drink,” you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.” John 4:10

How does Jesus relate to someone weighed down with shame? He intentionally seeks them out and moves toward them with honor.

He expects intermittent eye contact. He expects to see someone braced, hidden in fear, expecting contempt instead of love. He invites them to come out of the shadows. He always has. Remember the lengths he went to just to reach one woman? He entered Samaria on a mission. He defied racial lines, gender lines, and moral lines to sit beside a women steeped in shame. He believed she was worth His time.

He did the same for a woman caught in adultery. Her accusers wanted a public stoning. Jesus intervened. He stooped to the ground, fingered the dust, and made room for a very awkward silence. Stones dropped. Mercy stood up and prevailed. He did not ignore, nor deny, her sin, but neither did He deepen her shame. He gave her truth wrapped in honor.

Anyone who struggles with shame will retreat further if I come at them with an air of superiority. They will not be drawn to Jesus if I preach to them from a place above them, trying to fix them before I have loved them. It is love that woos. And it is love that gives me the credibility to move to a place of words.

So who near me is afraid to lift their eyes? Who has already concluded they are unlovable, unworthy, and disqualified from a future? I must ask Jesus for His heart and His wisdom. He will ask me to approach with respect. He may suggest I lower my pace. He may ask me to keep my words to a minimum. Friendship first. Honor first. Building a bridge strong enough to support the truth.

Jesus, make me a place where wounded souls do not feel smaller, but safe. Let Your mercy rule me so that so that I see others through the tenderness of the cross.Amen

To put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness. Ephesians 4:22-24

Do you remember The Newlywed Game? Couples were asked questions that revealed how well they really knew one another. And, not just facts, but instincts. What will he do in this situation? What would he prefer given these two choices? Etc.

It makes me wonder ~ how well do I really know Jesus? Not just being able to recall the events of His life or the doctrines I affirm, but His ways. His tone. His instincts. The movements of His heart. How did He look at people? What stirred His compassion? What awakened His anger? How did He carry Himself in the presence of weakness, shame, sorrow, and betrayal?

This matters because we become like the One we love. The One that moves our heart the most shapes us. If I worship a Christ I barely know, my transformation will remain vague and shallow. But if I walk with Him slowly enough to really watch Him, sanctification begins to feel less like strain and more like surrender. I put off the old self as I fall in love with the new.

So for the next week, we’ll take a long look at Jesus.

How did He relate to those who lived with shame?
How did He handle the weakness of His disciples?
How did He navigate the relationship with His Father?
How did He face the devil without losing peace?

And what will happen to us as we watch Him?

I do not think we will come away untouched. I think we will love Him more. I think we will be comforted, convicted, and surprised by His beauty. We might even stumble momentarily. But I think we will also see more clearly where we are unlike Him. But that too will be grace.

Jesus, give us grace to stay near enough to You to be changed. Amen

And Isaac said to his father Abraham, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?”  Genesis 22:7

Can you feel this pivotal moment between Isaac and Abraham?  Isaac knows there’s going to be some kind of sacrifice.  The wood is ready, but where is the lamb?   With this question on his mind, he turns to ask his father.  Was it a casual inquiry or was he beginning to probe the unthinkable?

These kinds of moments are awful to live through.  Our gut knows that something is dreadfully wrong and we look to someone wise to tell us that this isn’t what we fear it is.  We feel like a child.  And we are.  We turn to the only wise Father to voice our questions.  Like Abraham, He welcomes us.  He understands our frame.  We are safe to need Him.

To live childlike with Him, even on good days, is to secure a posture that prepares us for the hard moments when we will cry out, “Abba, Daddy!”  We know it won’t feel awkward on our tongues.  With the right theology, it will be instinctive to run home for strength. 

The world says that maturity is becoming independent.  God says that maturity is to become more childlike.  The cynicism and fear that comes with age begs us to move us away from dependence on anyone.  We must intentionally cultivate childlike faith.  Life may seem like it is unraveling but God holds the threads. 

It’s possible, and necessary, to be tethered to the Rock of Ages.  How strong the cords of Love that held us fast! 

I need nothing, and no one, more than I need You, Lord.  Amen

Plant the good seeds of righteousness, and you will harvest a crop of love. Plow up the hard ground of your hearts, for now is the time to seek the Lord, that he may come and shower righteousness upon you. Hosea 10:12

Is it possible to glimpse someone’s future by watching the pattern of their life? In many ways, yes. The repeated choices of righteousness or unrighteousness begin to trace a direction. If I understand the ways of the kingdom, I can often see where a person is headed. Patterns preach. They tell the truth about what a life is moving toward. What can interrupt a dark trajectory, however, is repentance.

If someone has a history of anger and I know him well, I can usually sense what will set him off. But I can not know whether an unrepentant heart may suddenly break open before God ~ even as I can not know whether a faithful saint may one day wander. But I do know the moral architecture of Scripture. We live in a sowing-and-reaping world. Seeds become harvests. To notice the likely fruit of someone’s life is not superstition, and it is not cruelty. It is biblical discernment. At times, to see clearly is simply to agree with God about where a path leads.

That clarity becomes especially painful when the life I am watching belongs to someone I love. What do I do when I foresee a shipwreck coming? I pray. I ask God to have mercy. I ask Him to shatter the schemes of the evil one who blinds the minds of unbelievers so they cannot see the glory of Christ. I ask Him to make my loved one spiritually needy enough to finally look up.

The past does not have to be the final prophet of the future. With God, the cycle can break. With God, repentance can turn a life around at the deepest level. With God, there is forgiveness, mercy, and a clean canvas on which grace can begin to paint again. He is able to redeem what looked certain, rewrite what seemed inevitable, and bring beauty out of what had all the markings of ruin.

Jesus, thank You for mercy that interrupts judgment, forgiveness that breaks dark patterns, and grace that gives a soul a future again. Amen

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
2 Corinthians 12:9

Last night I had a dream. I was in a large auditorium filled with strangers, though here and there were faces I loved—dear friends, even my parents. On the stage sat a grand piano under the glow of a single spotlight. It became clear that I was about to give a concert. And yet there had been no rehearsal and no prepared program. In spite of that, I was aware of a holy calm.

I climbed the stairs, sat at the piano bench, and waited for the opening words. Then they came: There is a current of grace. God’s grace. And when you find it, you can ride it instead of fighting it. You can lift your feet and let the Spirit carry you. From there, the music, the words, the atmosphere, everything seemed gathered into the current. Time disappeared.

For those of us who have lived much of our lives on a stage, performing becomes a familiar companion. I have known it as a pianist, flutist, singer, and Bible teacher. It is second nature to me. But the stage can also tutor the soul in the wrong things. A life in public can become a long hallway lined with others’ opinions, and it is a suffocating place to live.

Grace, however, is the holy current that moves beneath weakness, beneath inadequacy, beneath all the places where I don’t feel like I am enough. I do not have to thrash in that river. I do not have to impress anyone in my own strength. I can lift my feet and let myself be borne by the life of Another.

In this current, I’m called to write devotionals. Each morning feels like stepping onto a stage with no guarantee except this: His grace is enough. His thoughts are better than mine. His current still runs. My part is not to force revelation, but to enter the river.

Jesus, teach us to know the feel of Your current. Make Your grace so familiar, so unmistakable, that the moment we drop our feet back into the riverbed and begin resisting You, we feel the strain of it. Amen