Aren’t you tired of holding your breath? We are a world on edge. Global economy has nothing on global society right now. The Thanksgiving rush is all but over. The crowds have traveled and mingled among family members from far and wide. The sharing went beyond turkey and pies.
Experts are saying we are in for the worst winter in our history. I was appalled when they said 3,000 might die. Now we are counting deaths in the hundred thousands and climbing. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
A prayer
Prayed in truth and faith
Through the Blood of Jesus,
Is as a drop of water
Upon the river of life;
Sending out endless
Ripples and waves
Throughout creation.
As the prayer is said
The answer begins movement.
Not always given eyes to see, I lift my concerns in prayer. As I wrote above, I release them in truth and faith through the Blood of Jesus. Your will be done, Lord. Your will. As one friend says, nothing, else, nothing less, nothing more.
Here at Siesta Drive I have my island of responsibility.
Even here I find it difficult
to push off the dock
into the quiet river of Living Water
for the renewal of my soul
stilling of my heart, quieting of my mind
floating in Your love
awaiting Your instructions and
anointing for this day.
I want to power up the boat
or maybe stay on the island
ordering about the mundane
resisting the holy and eternal.
Forgive me, again, my desiring
to be in charge and capable.
Take me to a quiet lagoon
with jumping fish
elusive Great Blue Herons
tree branches trialing their leaves at the water’s edge.
Anchor me in Your incredible center-down silence
wash over me with righteousness
grant me the kiss of peace
Your faithfulness and steadfast love
meeting me in holy embrace
of relinquishment to solitude.
Only then
can I meet the mundane
with correct vision
Your holy Kingdom first and foremost
no matter what my activity might be.
So here at Siesta Drive if I will allow it
energy and solace I was hoping for at “The River”
may ebb and flow, around me, within, overflowing,
washing glaring, gaudy colors of importance
off the mundane,
letting those things fall back
into their proper place as incidental
like spoons tossed into the silverware drawer.
Cannot find the clipboard
poems in process of revising.
Cannot find the journal
life in process of being noted.
Where is my concordance
trying to find that verse
never finished notes in my Bible
negligence has made this worse.
Too often cover important
With mundane and lowly
Help me find the focus
to tell forth the eternal and holy.
Fighting back the darkness
bearing forth the Light
partake in eternal struggle
get any pen, any paper
note on computer
the calling compels you to
herald the glad tidings:
God wins.
“Yes, my dear, I AM the teacher
and so much I have yet to teach you.
You want to, now will you
incline your ear to Me?
“Will you turn your heart from
lesser things to feast upon Me?
Will you take My discipline and correction
that your soul may live in fatness?
“Christ, the Teacher, is the icon I AM
chose for you. I AM your Teacher.”
Yes, my Lord,
come and teach me.
Show me the discipline I need to embrace.
Help me to feast upon Your correction.
Finding it hard to get yourself willing to be quiet before the Lord? I have had that experience, too. I have used and written many images to talk myself into getting quiet. Here is one after my trip to the St. Lawrence Seaway to stay with a friend.
Here at Siesta Drive I have my island of responsibility.
Even here I find it difficult
to push off the dock
into the quiet river of Living Water
for the renewal of my soul
stilling of my heart, quieting of my mind
floating in Your love
awaiting Your instructions and anointing for this day.
I want to power up the boat
or maybe stay on the island
ordering about the mundane
resisting the holy and eternal.
Forgive me, again, my desiring
to be in charge and capable.
Take me to a quiet lagoon
with jumping fish
elusive Great Blue Herons
tree branches trialing their leaves at the water’s edge.
Anchor me in Your incredible center-down silence
wash over me with righteousness
grant me the kiss of peace
Your faithfulness and steadfast love
meeting me in holy embrace
of relinquishment to solitude.
Only then
can I meet the mundane
with correct vision
Your holy Kingdom first and foremost
no matter what my activity might be.
So here at Siesta Drive if I will allow it
energy and solace I was hoping for at “The River”
may ebb and flow, around me, within, overflowing
washing glaring, gaudy colors of importance
off the mundane,
letting those things fall back
into their proper place as incidental
like spoons tossed into the silverware drawer.
Center in His quiet and find yourself renewed once more.
In 1975 we were expecting our first child. The photo below is from our first vacation to the Smoky Mountains. In 1982 we were learning about the Full Armor of God (Ephesians 6) and starting to teach Bible study together at our local church.
Oh I loved you in that creek bed
Full of gallantry and suave
My flashing debonair knight.
You didn’t even know
What holy armor was then.
And now my love for you
Far surpasses and encompasses
The emotions at that creek bed.
Father, show us how to flow together
To the glory of Your name.
You split the rocks with
A blade of grass and
A finger of ice.
Split our shells that we might
Merge in Your kingdom work.
1978 Before Kids
Now in 2020, our children are adults with children of their own. We are still learning more about how to walk together in the Spirit. As we celebrate our 50th year of being married by knight continues to court me, woo and win me with his humor and grace.
One day when walking down the street, On business bent, while thinking hard About the “hundred cares” which seemed Like thunder clouds about to break In torrents, Self-pity said to me: “You poor, poor thing, you have too much To do. Your life is far too hard. This heavy load will crush you soon.” A swift response of sympathy Welled up within. The burning sun Seemed more intense. The dust and noise Of puffing motors flying past With rasping blast of blowing horn Incensed still more the whining nerves, The fabled last back-breaking straw To weary, troubled, fretting mind. “Ah, yes, ’twill break and crush my life; I cannot bear this constant strain Of endless, aggravating cares; They are too great for such as I.” So thus my heart condoled itself, “Enjoying misery,” when lo! A “still small voice” distinctly said, “Twas sent to lift you—not to crush.” I saw at once my great mistake. My place was not beneath the load But on the top! God meant it not That I should carry it. He sent It here to carry me. Full well He knew my incapacity Before the plan was made. He saw A child of His in need of grace And power to serve; a puny twig Requiring sun and rain to grow; An undeveloped chrysalis; A weak soul lacking faith in God. He could not help but see all this And more. And then, with tender thought He placed it where it had to grow— Or die. To lie and cringe beneath One’s load means death, but life and power Await all those who dare to rise above. Our burdens are our wings; on them We soar to higher realms of grace;
Without them we must roam for aye On planes of undeveloped faith, For faith grows but by exercise in circumstance impossible.
Oh, paradox of Heaven. The load We think will crush was sent to lift us Up to God! Then, soul of mine, Climb up! for naught can e’er be crushed Save what is underneath the weight. How may we climb! By what ascent Shall we surmount the carping cares Of life! Within His word is found The key which opes His secret stairs; Alone with Christ, secluded there, We mount our loads, and rest in Him. —Miss Mary Butterfield
Trying to figure out how to express the recent struggles within my brain and emotions I came across this poem in Streams in the Desert. Could not discover anything about the author, but I do like her ideas!
“Alone with Christ, secluded there, we mount our loads and rest in Him.” That is the answer repeatedly in my journey. Go to Him. Rest and regain perspective for the next phase of the journey. Recently I read a book by Charles Martin about football. His character was living near a junkyard. He made it is his practice to run to the top of a pile of tires and other automobile debris as part of his conditioning. Make this our journey. To run to the top of the debris in our life. Make it the conditioning track that we need for victory in our hearts, minds and souls. When I am reminded to love the Lord my God with all my heart, mind, soul and strength I often fail to realize that will take conditioning and practice. I must determine to do that – daily, hourly!
When Self-pity speaks to you I hope you will get up and get moving. Let those warped thoughts drop to the ground and travel on with His empowerment. You ARE able to do many things you never thought possible through Christ Who strengthens you.
Much of our suffering occurs between our ears. Was it Mark Twain who said “I’ve known many troubles in my life. And most of them never came to pass.” Stay on top!
Treasures in Plain Sight, A Christian Blog 