The Hardened Path

In my part of the country, we have been experiencing drought. Very little precipitation has fallen this year. In my city home, I don’t immediately see the effects, but the nearby farmers and ranchers see it every day.

While recently walking on the nature trails, however, I noticed the difference. Usually, when I walk those trails, my feet “shush, shush” on the pliable dirt trails. I quickly noticed the effect of the drought, however, as I realized my walking would now prevent any surprise deer encounters. My loud “clomp, clomp, clomping” on the hard-baked paths would frighten any deer away long before I’d be in viewing distance.

As I continued walking, my feet loudly slapping the drought-hardened earth, I couldn’t help but think of the parable of the seeds. This path would certainly not be a good place to sow seeds. The path was hard as cement, and even if it rained, that hard ground wouldn’t absorb the water. The rain would just roll off the brick-hard surface. Certainly, nothing good could grow there.

Isn’t that path like our souls? How often do we allow them to harden and resist the living water, refusing to absorb it? When our souls become hardened with our own stubborn thoughts and pride, how can we grow and mature? How can we produce the fruit of the Spirit when we’ve become so hardened that we don’t let Him soften our souls and become teachable?

How do we convert that drought-toughened soul into a soul that’s willing to drink deeply of the living water and be willing to listen to His voice?

For me, I find it takes time and effort on my part. I often begin the softening process on the trails. There I can absorb His created beauty and focus on God, allowing all worldly thoughts and cares to leave my mind.

Of course, it doesn’t end there. I spend time in the word, talk to reliable friends, listen to and sing worship music, and spend much time in prayer. My journey back from a hardened heart to a pliable one can vary, but, with God’s guidance, I always find my way back.

What about you? What do you do when you find yourself with a hardened heart? When you feel far from God? How do you find your way back?

Father God, forgive us for those times when we turn our backs on you and walk our own paths. Forgive us for ignoring you and depending on our own abilities and thoughts, hardening our souls along the way. Teach us to turn, instead, to you for guidance. Teach us to soften our souls: to deeply drink your living water, to listen to your voice, and follow your ways.

Favorite Verse

Ephesians 3:14-19

For this reason, I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and high and long and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Photo by Achraf Alan on Pexels.com

What greater prayer can one have for their friends and loved ones than this? For this reason, this verse is a favorite of mine, and I often pray it for others. What is your favorite verse? Why do you love it?

Glimpses of His Glory

Early in the morning before the phone starts ringing and the demands of the day begin pressing all around, I love to curl up in my favorite glider rocker and just think. 

Pre-dawn darkness covers everything, but a soft light gradually steals into the room.  The house is quiet, not yet fully awake.  With my back to the lace-covered bay window, I gaze out the sliding glass window to the south. 

The branches of the mulberry trees arch toward earth, heavy with their fruit.  A bright red cardinal hops from one branch to another, calling to his mate.  A small, sky- blue birdhouse, its door flanked by two birch twigs, hangs from the mulberry tree.  A tiny wren flits about, and then dives into the miniature house. 

The potted plants on the patio steps provide a splash of color:  red, trailing geraniums, brilliant against the white pots.  Arching asparagus ferns reach toward the patio.  Bright yellow moss roses, a hint of red at their centers, peek from beneath the greenery. 

My cat Tigger prowls, seeking prey.  The birds chatter and chastise him, but they need not fear.  He is too fat to catch them.

As I sit, still and quiet, contemplating the early morning peace and the beauty of nature, I sense the presence of God.

 It is in this setting, when I sit quietly and let my mind wander, that I can hear God’s still, quiet voice speaking to me. 

In this calm, contemplative state, I open my heart to hear His voice.  In the quiet, before my mind races with obligations and responsibilities, I watch.  I listen.  He responds.  He makes His presence known. 

Some mornings I meditate on His greatness.  Other mornings I listen to worshipful music.  As the beautiful notes wash over my soul, and the words seep into my heart, they speak volumes of God’s power, majesty, and grandeur. 

When I open my Bible, God speaks to me through the written word.  Passages I may never have noticed before nearly jump off the page.  “Listen to My words,” God says to my heart.  “These words are my special message, just for you, just for today’s circumstances.” 

As I ponder the words, I feel Him in the room, His love washing over my entire being.  I cherish this time with God.

Too soon, it is time to scurry about and prepare for the busy day ahead.  I would love to take these special moments with me and live in this state forever, but I know I cannot.  Even though I wish I could, I am unable to have this lengthy quiet time on a daily basis.

 Too often, my quiet time with God is far too short.  But I realize that He does not intend for me to live entirely on the mountaintop experiences of His love; He wants me to spend time in the valleys.  For it is only in the valleys that I can share these experiences with others. 

It is only in the valleys that others can see God’s presence in me.  It is only in the valleys that I can learn and grow. 

So I go about my everyday tasks, longing for insight into more of God’s grandeur.  Someday I know I will see Him face to face; someday I will behold, in full, His glory; someday I will go to the mountaintop where I will bask in His presence for all eternity.

 In the meantime, I obediently walk in the valleys and try to stay content with occasional glimpses of His glory.

Psalm 46:10 Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.

Lord of my life, thank you for the mountaintop experiences and for the walks in the valley.  In your wisdom, allow each experience to mold me into your image.

Early Spring

As I sit on the brown, lifeless grass, its crispy blades crunch and break beneath my weight. High atop this hill, I can see for miles in every direction, the surrounding gently rolling hills the same dun color as the grass where I sit.

Dotted along the tan hillsides, dark green cedars raise their pointed heads skyward. The peaked ends of two white farmhouses reveal man’s presence in this pristine world.

The breeze blows through the three-foot-high dried Bluestem grasses, bending and rustling them along its way. The cloudless sky stretches bright blue in every direction, a treat for eyes more accustomed to the gray, overcast skies of winter.

This peaceful setting soothes my harried soul. My heart slows from the frantic pace of the past week, its rhythm now more in tune with the occasional bird call and the soft rustling of the grass.

It’s appropriate, somehow. Just four days ago we buried my father-in-law. Yes, he was old and had lived a long, good life. But it’s still hard to say goodbye. And the caring, for years, the waiting for death to release his body has been difficult.

All the busy week of funeral plans and a house full of company have left my body tired, broken. Physically and emotionally drained.

The rustling grasses draw my focus back to where I sit. Right in front of me, so close I can reach out and touch its branches, sits a leafless plum bush.

At first glance it seems lifeless. Looking closer, however, I notice red in the branches, and small buds growing all along its notches. New life and growth will soon unfurl on this bush.

I examine my own life’s winter. Frequently leafless and bare this past winter, I spent much joy-sapping energy watching my father-in-law’s health slowly decline until finally, after 91 years on this earth, he breathed his last.

With a flurry of activity my family and I planned the funeral, prepared for guests, and buried Dad, high on a wind-swept hill much like this one.

But I know the life cycle continues. The plum bush will sprout new leaves and bear fruit, my body and soul will find rest and rejuvenation, and Dad, freed from his feeble earthly body, will live a glorious new life in heaven.

The peaceful scene in front of me is appropriate for this difficult time in life. Finally, after a long winter of life, my father-in-law has passed to the spring of his new life.

Spring is just beginning to display her green finery and her bright splashes of flowering beauty. But Spring has sprung early this year for the beloved father recently buried.

I look to the distant horizon, beyond the dried grass-covered hills, where the cars scurry, speeding off to some unknown destination and I’m grateful I know my father-in-law’s final destination.

The cars hurry. I sit, enjoying the quiet, enjoying the solitude. I am at peace.

Comforting God, my prayer is for those who are broken. Loss–of a loved one, a job, a relationship, a reputation–has them grieving, their souls filled with wintry darkness. I pray you will wrap Your arms of comfort around them. Let the buds of spring grow in their souls until they blossom once again with hope and joy in You.

Cleaning the Flower Beds

In the early morning fresh air, I cleaned the flower beds.  First, I tackled the tall purple coneflowers, whose seed heads had provided the birds with winter food.  With my handheld, small shears, I quickly cut.  Snip, snip, down they came. 

Next came the yarrow:  snip, snip, the old dried stalks were quickly removed.  From there I moved to the bee balm, then the snapdragons and the daisies.  Soon all the dead flower stalks from last summer were cut and removed.  Once the dead stalks were gone, the new growth underneath became more visible.  Over the next few days, all the tender new plants grew quickly, for they now received ample sunlight.

In the same way that I prune the dead stalks from my flower bed in the spring, I ask God to prune away the dead habits from my soul and make room for His Holy Spirit to grow and flourish.  I allow Him to take the shears to my independence and pride and cut them down, allowing God’s strength to grow from the roots of my weakness.  Snip, snip, down goes the pride.  Next, cut down time wasted in useless pursuits.  Snip, snip, get rid of the misused time and allow time for study of God’s holy word and quiet reflection of His greatness.  Next, prune a complaining spirit and a willingness to gossip.  Snip, snip, down go the negative words and thoughts, allowing God’s love for others to grow strong and vigorous in me.  In the last flower bed, a healthy crop of doubt and discouragement grows.  Snip snip, cut down the doubt and discouragement, allowing faith in my awesome God to grow to a mighty tree.

John 15:2 He cuts off every branch in me that bears not fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.

Oh God, author of wisdom and truth, prune away my dead branches.  Eliminate the old, useless vines so your new growth will flourish.

What About Saturday? (Audio Version)

So, I’m trying something new. An audio version of my latest devotion. I’d love to hear your feedback. How many of you like the audio version? Who prefers to read?