First Kiss

First Kiss

Frost has kissed the forest.  Leaves and grasses have succumbed to its deadly touch. Yellow and brown leaves flutter from the trees. The stream is littered with autumn’s golden snowfall. As I wander off the soft, sandy trail, my feet crunch noisily through the leafy debris.  Looking up, I see trees lifting dark, barren branches skyward. Others sport a few green and yellow leaves, but these too are destined to drop to the forest floor.

It’s silent here. No birds call. No animals chatter to their mates. High above in the treetops the wind blows, rustling the remaining leaves. This rustling soon grows to a roar as the wind rushes past barren branches. So much around me seems dead, lifeless. Yet, I know the forest lives.  As I walk, I hear crackling in the dead leaves and know small animals run and hide from this human invading their territory.

I stop a moment at the stream, listening to the rushing waters bouncing over the rocks. The sound soothes my soul.  I look at the brown grass and the barren trees around the stream and I imagine their roots digging deep into the soil. Above the soil they appear dead, yet their roots continue to draw nourishment into the living plants.

So it is with my soul. At times it becomes brown and looks lifeless. Life is difficult, and I struggle from an unresponsive spirit and lack of enthusiasm. But then I go to a still place and listen. Just like the wind rushes through the trees, God’s voice rushes through my soul, giving me peace. I listen. I learn. I allow the roots of my soul to draw up spiritual nourishment. I rejoice, waiting patiently for that first green blush of spring to sprout in my soul.

Thank you, Father, for giving reassurance of Your soul-lifting presence, even when life appears drab, dreary, and lifeless.

Psalm 30:5b NIV “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

Drawing Closer

“Let your cares drive you to God. I shall not mind if you have many of them if each one leads you to prayer. If every fret makes you lean more on the Beloved, it will be a benefit.”

― Charles H. Spurgeon

Lord, I thank you for those cares and concerns that have driven me to you.

The Stagnant Pond

User comments

The Stagnant Pond

All is still. Cars scurry by on nearby 13th street, rushing off to their various destinations. Sitting here at the park, I hear the distant laughter of children playing. A basketball bounces off the cement court; the clang as it hits the backboard echoes across the grass. A Cessna drones, far overhead. An occasional jogger puffs by, the slap of his running shoes spanking the pavement.

            Activity surrounds me, but my world stands still, as if I’m dreaming or sleepwalking. I observe everyone else’s activities, yet I sit, only my writing hand and pen moving across the page. This stillness provides blessed relief.

 I sit on a large, cold, gray rock six feet above a man-made pond; more rocks rim this small pond’s perimeter. The lowest twelve inches of the rocks surrounding the pond are blackened, evidence that the water has receded. The remaining water, brown and stagnant, is filled with yellow-green algae. Its surface is littered with yellow and brown leaves. Small branches broken from the tree overreaching this pond lie lifelessly on its murky surface. Human trash adds to the dismal scene: a red cup, a white plastic fork, a Styrofoam plate, and a half-submerged Coke can.

Lord, today my body and soul feel dried up and wasted like this little pond. I come here today for a time of quiet, reflection, and renewal. I seek rest—wanting Your strength to re-invigorate my body. I seek peace and quiet to allow Your peace to wash over my mind. I seek Your spirit here in Your beautiful creation, so that Your living water will fill my soul, allowing it to bubble over. Make me a sparkling spiritual pond, not stagnant, not filled with trash, but alive with living water, so clean and beautiful that anyone who thirsts for Your living spirit will drink her fill.

 “Jesus answered, ‘Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.’” John 4:13-14

Drawing Closer

“The basis of the mission of the twelve apostles was not their knowledge, training, or character, but their having lived with Jesus. Paul, who was not with Jesus while he was traveling with his disciples, encountered him on the road to Damascus. This experience was the foundation on which all his apostolic work was built. There has never been a Christian witness whose influence has not been directly related to a personal and intimate experience of the Lord.”

Henri Nouwen

What are you doing to deepen your personal, intimate relationship with God?

Lord, draw me closer to you. Show me how to deepen our relationship.

Forgive One Another

In today’s climate of anger and hatred toward those who disagree with us, this is a wonderful verse to remember. What a challenge. Not only does it ask us to be kind and tenderhearted and to forgive each other, it asks us to do it just as God as forgiven us. Now that’s a challenge.

Lord, it’s difficult to be kind and forgiving as You are to me. Only through Your strength can this happen. Strengthen each of us, Lord. Show us how to give tender loving care to others, especially to those who make us angry.

A Prayer for You

When life is chaotic and you feel stressed, may God grant you peace.

When you feel alone and unloved, may God fill you with His love.

When you are overwhelmed with grief, may God give you comfort.

When you struggle with what to do, may God share His wisdom.

When you feel lost and confused, may God fill you with hope.

When you are sad or depressed, may God fill you with joy.

When you are doubting your faith, may God grant you faith.

May the God of glory fill your spirit with His good gifts.

Walking the Nature Trails

User comments

The path opens to a clearing larger than a football field.  Waist high brome grasses sway slightly in a gentle waltz with the faint breeze.  Nearby branches merely watch, too heavily laden with yellow-green hedge apples to dance.  On the far side of the field lies a painter’s palette of trees just beginning to show their colors—green, yellow, orange, brown, and rust, accented by splashes of bright red sumac and dark tree trunks.  Wildflowers once covered this field.  Three and four-foot high dried stalks now fill the meadow, their seed heads white and full, ready to release millions of umbrella ribs to flower another field.

I risk a quick crossing of the muddy path to stand on the bridge and watch the swollen stream.  My right foot sinks three inches into the soft black ooze, but I make it safely across.  The recent rain has forced the creek out of its bed.  Noisily it rushes through unfamiliar territory, over its former banks and around tree trunks, its strength rippling the mud-brown water, carrying foamy bubbles downstream.  The rushing water rocks the dying trees, tipping them on their sides from the water’s force, but their roots hold firm against its assault.  One tree reaches toward the flood, its green and yellow leaves bending toward the water like a girl bending over to wash her hair. 

The rushing water lulls me into to a peaceful reverie.  The surface ripples, like a cat flexing the muscles on its back. Every day responsibilities beckon me home. Reluctantly, I amble across the bridge, promising myself to return soon.

  The peace, beauty, and serenity of God’s handiwork are just outside my front door to enjoy whenever I choose.  How seldom I choose!  It is the same way with God’s peace, love, wisdom, and power.  It is there for me, whenever I choose to enjoy it.  All I have to do is walk the path.   

Lord, forgive me for those many times that my nearsighted eyes fail to see your grandeur.  Open my eyes to behold your glory.

Amos 5:4b “Seek me and live.”