If you were wearing Solomon's shoes...

If you were wearing Solomon’s shoes

What would you want? What would you choose?

If bright this morning, on your knees,

The Lord has asked you what you please

Would you have asked for wealth or fame? 

Or for a well-respected name?

Would you have asked a pleasant life—

Devoid of challenge, strain, or strife?

Would you have wanted something good

That still was not the best you could?

A life of ease or longer days?

Or human words of love and praise?

Or maybe skill for some nice task—

Would that be what you’d want and ask?

To sing like birds...or speak like gold

Or gain a talent yet untold...

Let not the good supplant the best.

For those who ask will still be blessed

When they delight themselves in Him,

Whose choicest blessings never dim

For God “will give that which is good”

And if this thing we understood,

We’d trust the plan He had in mind

And crave each gift that He designed 

We’d want to want what He would choose,

No matter what we’d gain or lose

For just as Solomon gained more

In seeking wisdom from God’s store

When we will seek Him first and best,

Then can be added all the rest,

For such will have it’s proper place,

When far eclipsed by Jesus’ face!

Trust

Could we peel away the sky,

Could we answer every "Why",

Could we plumb the waters deep or ocean wide

Could we look into the realm

Of the waves that overwhelm, 

Or explain the ebb and flow of lunar tide

Could we answer every doubt,

And describe our total route,

Could we map our lives from genesis and on

Could we always, fully know,

Would we ever fully grow,

In the faith that sees at night the morning dawn? 

For the faith that has it's sight,

And is strengthened with the night,

When tested, proved, comes forth a brighter gold

Through days of darkness now,

With trusting we can bow,

And with thanks, commit to Him what's yet untold!

The Potter's Plans

I know that there are those anticipating my blogged updates from the other side of the planet and the other hemisphere...but I am still north of the equator, this side of the pond. Nevertheless it is due that this dusty blog come out of the coma it went into when yours truly plunged into the deep end of nursing school.

God does not see as humanity sees. (Amen?!) He doesn't plan like us either. Why would you? If your vision was not limited to time and space, and your plans had creative power, why formulate any idea only within the box of here and now? It wouldn't make sense. After all, what kind of plans would we devise?

What kind of plans would we devise,

Who have but mortal minds and eyes?

Who cannot see the greater scheme,

Nor conjure an immortal dream?

How would we plan from day to day

(When we cannot discern the way

That circumstances often take)

And not be left to our mistake?

Whose thoughts can think beyond this realm?

Whose arm can handle his own helm?

Whose goals are broad enough or high 

As His whose stars still trace the sky?

Could we record the sands of earth?

Or figure out the code of birth?

Could we design our very breath?

Or somehow stop the work of death?

Then how do we suppose we may,

Now orchestrate ourselves our way

And from a human point of view

Contrive a life that's worth debut?

How can we think that if we could,

We'd work things out just as they should,

Preventing all the bumps and rain,

And getting all we reckon gain? 

Do we forget that One whose heart

Has held us from the very start,

Whose fingers fashioned us -the clay,

Is also Potter of each day?

Do we now think that in His hands

Our life's in danger at His plans?

When every turn the Potter makes

Produces what He undertakes?

This is the One who's Authored life,

Who knows the controversies' strife,

Who walked this earth in Heaven's will,

From manger to Golgotha's hill

This is the One whose love would dare,

Almighty bonds to cut and tare,

And God from God Himself to break,

In my behalf, for His love's sake

Then how can we not trust to Him:

The future which we see so dim;

The turns beyond finite repeal;

When they are of the Potter's wheel?

And can we not discern and tell,

That He who "doeth all things well",

Does not forget His chosen clay, 

But purposely leaves it to lay?

That through each change the Potter's hand,

May work out that which He had planned

And one day to His Father bring,

A vessel fit to serve the King.

God's Detours

When traveling the paths of earth,

The road may often turn

But it’s God’s timing we unearth,

If we His ways will learn

Often looking as we do,

His trail seems drab and plain,

When where we’d planned to travel through

Seems better ground to gain

We see the beauty that we think

Will make our route so bright,

And fail to note the rose or pink

That blooms the more at night

We think it not the quickest way

To get right to our goal,

But God’s detours will repay

A wealth into the soul

At first the scen’ry may not charm

His way appear quite bleak,

But Heaven knoweth every harm

From which to guard the meek

And when we turn into His will

And give up on our own,

More than our dreams He’ll fulfill

For in us His are sown

One day our eyes will see above

And understand His ways,

And for the detours of love

We’ll lift our hearts in praise

So now my friends, when corners come

Do not give place to gloom,

For it is in God’s detours

That His promises will bloom.

Heaven's Antidote

Stars sprinkle themselves across the sky around the furry silhouette of our feline. My bedroom window has often been as a sanctuary to me- a Bethany, a Bethesda. At times it's sees the struggle of faith against an onslaught of fear, doubt, complacency, sleep. It is the place to go when the sun dawns, or sets; when hopes spring bright and fresh, or when disappointment drives me to my knees.

They recur, random and scheduled, these window-side interviews. What makes it come to life is often what seems like death itself to me... Death of plans, pursuits, purposes-- requiring, perhaps, death of self?

In those 'conclusion of the whole matter' kind of moments, this remains: God is trustworthy.

Well...duh. That's an understated, indisputable, undeniable, and unmistakable comment of the obvious. Is it not?

Corrie Ten-boom's father only gave her the train ticket when she got on the train. Before she needed it, she didn't have it, but when the need came, there was no lack.

They say, 'Trust is earned'. It's true. Trust is also learned. Before our Heavenly Father gives us the ticket of His supply for our needs, we have the opportunity to learn that trust.

Whoosh. From the windowsill above the cat jumps into my reverie. Two inches closer and it would have been a direct hit.

I know it again tonight: God is trustworthy. His word is sure. Even "if we believe not, yet He abideth faithful: He cannot deny Himself." 2 Timothy 2:13. Case closed.

Heaven's antidote for stress seems to be there. ...yet He abideth faithful. It is the faithful individual that we can trust in this world. Yet, there is no one, no human upon whom we can place our trust. Here is our God, the epitome, the essence, the embodiment of perfect faithfulness; the answer to every question; the song for every night.

Yes, trust is earned, and it is learned, but praise God it is also given. God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith. Romans 12:3. Drinking in the night sky, it seems that I see only the smallest picture of His faithfulness, and of what he would do in my heart, but His heart is as an endless ocean of constancy, and commitment. His heart holds Heaven's antidote for the problems of life...the problems of my life...the problems of your life. 

Oh to see more, more of That heart!

Sonshine & Shadow

Let praise and thanksgiving

Resound to the One

Who knows no misgiving

Through shadow or sun

He giveth and taketh,

But blessed is He

Who never forsaketh,

Though dark the day be

His ear is not deafened,

His hand is not tied,

His grace will extend

To the soul that is tried

At dusk don't forget this-

God's honor and name

Are staked on the promise

That He is the Same

He's proven His faithfulness

In days of old,

So let us have thankfulness

For what He'll unfold

Then lift up your head

To the clouds in the sky,

For our Father has said

All our needs, He'll supply

And though troubles gather

Like vultures of prey,

Remember our Brother

Has passed by this way

He knows what we'll take

To become purest gold,

And our hearts He will make

To His character mould

Then rest in the promise

Of Him who is true,

For He is still working 

In me and in you

And when on the shore

Of eternity's page,

We'll see all before

In the light of the age

And cast crown and praise

At the foot of His throne,

For through those dark days

He has made us His own.

Philippians: 120 Hope

“According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death.” Philippians 1:20

With faith in what God’s doing,

And peace with what He’s done,

We can have this expectation-

That He’ll finish what’s begun.

Surrender is essential

For Christ to work His will,

But in yielding all to heaven,

Heaven can our hope fulfill.

What greater aspiration

Than this can there be found?

That Christ in me be magnified

And praise to God resound.

If this remains our longing,

Our aim, and confidence,

Then Christ and God that cannot lie,

Our hope will recompense.

So you see, the Savior’s working

Is both to will and do.

And when our hope is set on Him

It surely will come true. 

Philippians: 116 Sufficient

“The one preach Christ of contention, not sincerely, supposing to add affliction to my bonds:” Philippians 1:16

There were people in Paul’s world

Who didn’t know the gospel,

Who, yet it’s gonfalon unfurled

To burden the apostle.

These worked from strife and envy

To cause another grief,

But Paul of Tarsus knew the key

To find happy relief.

He dwelt amid thanksgiving.

He looked beyond that day.

He thought on Christ’s own suffering

For what he couldn’t pay.

And so, let’s learn the lesson

Of patience, as did Paul.

For Christ has drunk for everyone

The cup of woe and gall.

We need not dwell in shadows

When Jesus shines with light,

And from Him peace and gladness flows,

Sufficient for the night.

Philippians: 108 Defendant

“For God is my record, how greatly I long after you all in the bowels of Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1:8

Record - Strongs 3144 - a witness (literally (judicially) or figuratively...); by analogy, a "martyr":-- martyr, record, witness.

God knows you my friend,

The longings you carry.

His own He’ll defend

From His calm sanctuary.

He saw faithful Job

Who was tested and tried.

That one on the globe

Who with Him was allied.

God sees and knows all

When others do not,

Or when heaven’s call

Is past our own thought.

Yes. He is our judge,

Our witness, defendant,

Who will not begrudge

Help to one dependent.

Philippians: 101 Submission

“Paul and Timotheus, the servants of Jesus Christ, to all the saints in Christ Jesus which are at Philippi, with the bishops and deacons.” Philippians 1:1

…the servants of Jesus Christ… 

What gave Paul and Timotheus, Abraham, Moses, David, Solomon, Job, Jacob, Daniel, John, James, Epaphras, and Peter, distinction as the “servant” of God? Is it any coincidence that these, among the strongest leaders for Heaven, are called servants?

Moses, the meekest man on planet earth; Job who trusted God, though he should be slain at His hand; Abraham who obeyed, not knowing the way that he went, and  who yielded to the command of God, though it should cost him everything. As in Hebrews, time fails to tell of them all. 

Their lives speak of submission: of bold acknowledgement that God is great, and I am not; of full surrender to the only One worth surrendering to; of simple, genuine obedience. It’s a sermon of subservience born of love for God —any other motive of action would have melted in the fire of their afflictions. The power of their lives was not from within. Their leadership did not begin with public posts and google+ counters. The strength of these giants grew out of quiet submission in the audience chamber of the King of kings. 

It is no different now. Submission is the foundation for leadership; subservience to God, prerequisite to greatness. Service, in fact, is not optional. Every choice we make carries with it the signature of the one we serve. 

Who is that for me? Or for you? Who is your master? Who has your thoughts? Who has your desires? Who has your talents? Who has your heart? Whose are you?

My prayer is that we would be the submissive servants of Jesus Christ.

Simple Song - Unfathomable God// pt. 5 Valley of Victory

There’s something about being in a valley. Everything else is uphill. Valleys have the tendency to keep drawing you downward too. No matter that a valley floor leads to a valley side, which does actually lead to a mountaintop. The valley is like quicksand. Lofty heights are obliterated by dense green forest. Azure blue sky is textured with needle studded silhouettes. The trail is dark. The eyes strain to see it. Shadows come quickly and leave slowly. Every cracking branch is magnified into some great big hungry creature, seeking whomsoever it may devour. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  •

He had been to the top. He had seen that the mountains belonged to God, but this was something else. Mile after mile he ran. Just to get somewhere, anywhere, perhaps nowhere. Nowhere where his enemies would follow. 

So he runs down to the valley of discouragement. Hungry, exhausted, afraid. He presses on, but this leads him only to a deeper basin: self-pity. 

Having seen the glory of God displayed in such magnificent grandeur upon Mt. Carmel, Elijah should have known that God had not left His throne. But the lesson is for us. 

We all have days after a mountaintop. The trail continues beyond each peak, but while we have the option of plunging to the lowest low, we don’t have to do that. There is a higher plain. A plain found through faith, prayer, and work. 

Remember that there was a valley before victory at Ai. That place of earlier defeat and discouragement was still to be conquered, and of all things, Israel had to march through a valley to get there. Talk about daunting. Notice however, that victory is not gained by evading all valleys. As the Psalmist said, Yea, though I walk through the valley…

            …I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me… 

Elijah was not loved less of heaven when he felt brokenhearted and rejected by men and God, then when God sent fire from above in answer to his very own prayer on Mt. Carmel. The mountains belong to God, but so do the valleys. 

Perhaps you find yourself in a valley today. Maybe it plunges beneath the valley of victory. Perhaps it’s a valley of discouragement or defeat. Or perhaps it’s a valley of test and trial. 

Take heart. You are not loved less. With Christ, a valley is a place of victory, and a place of peace. If God led you here, His dream is that you conquer Ai. If, like Elijah, your pit is despair, God’s longing is that you leave it in the arms of faith. The victory is in getting up, and going back to work. We can’t conquer Ai, or climb out of self-pity with finite arms. We need help. We need a great.. strong.. mighty.. God.. 

      …a God who rules the valleys too. 

Simple Song - Unfathomable God // Part ll Of Strength and Mountains

My God is so great…

Really now! Mental image pops up: wide-eyed, awestruck youngster, stretching his arms wide for all he’s worth. My daddee's bigger dan dat! The words ring with finality, perfect confidence, perfect trust. 

Yup! Buddy, you’re right. Far more right than many who are rich in years. For that simple, that child-like faith knows: My Father’s bigger than that.

MmmHmm. And it doesn’t end there.

…so strong… Yes?

When my thoughts take to flight like an army of horses, I need a strong God. When selfishness rises up as an unconquerable mountain, I need a strong God. When love must come out of my most unlovely heart, I need a strong God. 

You do too. I don’t know your mountains, but I know your need.  

Courage my friend: A horse -even an army of them- is a vain thing for safety, but God is our refuge and strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary when climbing high mountains, but they that wait upon the Lord… shall mount up with wings as eagles. Even the strongest in this life cannot conquer the grave, but love is strong as death.*

And God.is.love.

For this God is our God for ever and ever: he will be our guide even unto death. Psalm 48:14

Simple song...

Unfathomable God...

...to be continued...

* Ps 33:17, Ps 46:1, Is 40:30-31,Ecc 8:8, Song of Solomon 8:6

Seedtime and Harvest

Leaves sprinkle themselves outside. Trees are showing twinges of red. Why talk of planting when Autumn is nearly here? 

The lessons of seed sowing are timeless.  

•  •  •  •  •

Year by year the farmers take

The best of all their seed,

And by appearance make mistake

Discarding what they need.

But only when the grain is cast

Into the field of needs,

Is there preserved and saved at last

A harvest of more seeds.

Just as the grain is thrown away

Christ came to earth to die,

And yet His faith beheld the day

When more would meet His eye.

For He saw then, as we must see,

The great joy to be had.

When all to God is given free

The harvest will be glad!

The Gospel According to the Third Floor of Kaiser

August 27 dawned about as spunkily as a yearly event that you know is coming, but always shows up before it ought to. No, it wasn't a surprise, it just came quickly. 

There were about ten bleary seconds in the OR to my consciousness, and then it was recovery. Honestly, the mandibular osteotomy, a.k.a. jaw surgery was the easy part. 

I do not wish here to turn anyone's stomach, just to send the message to your heart that came to mine. :)

Up three stories for a night's stay in Kaiser. The bleeding had not completely stopped, evidenced by the formerly white cloth at my neck. In fact, the tail was told down to my socks. There is something starkly soiled when that vital red stuff is on your clothes. Maybe it's just me. I'm not terribly bothered by my own blood (and coming out of anesthesia, not bothered by much at all), but something wastes no time to cry "unclean" when it's landed on cotton. 

So there I am. Unclean. Still bleary. Awake to very little, yet groggily aware of the dirtiness yours truly was in. And Into that collection of shadows she steps. A total stranger. Cleaning my face. Changing my socks. Taking away the defiled garments. For.ever. 

It's not the nobility of nursing. Not the commendation of cleanliness... We're leaving regions of ice packs and hospital rooms. It's that Someone so clean would deign to take away the filthiness of someone so dirty. That One who is known and worshipped by seraphim and cherubim would wipe blood off the face of a stranger.

It would be enough to be clean. Pure. Holy. Justified. But the blood that stains the children of Adam, is not primarily their own. It's His. 

Right. 

He bleeds from the wounds I have made. But in His blood is the DNA of purity and holiness. Both to will. And to do. In place of stained socks He gives the preparation of the gospel of peace. In place of a filthy garment, His own. 

Jesus stoops over a bleeding world. His precious blood, mingling with His tears, drips faster. Then looking into eternity He sees a people, clothed in pure and white linen. He sees the palms, the crowns. He sees cleanness of heart. And He begins to work. To wash. To clothe. To restore. To purify. 

Soon the faith of Jesus will be rewarded. Soon He will claim His own. Soon He will dwell with those who have clean hands and a pure heart. Face to face. For.ever. 

Made white, a.k.a. clean, in the blood of the Lamb. For.ever.