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?

What About Saturday?

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We celebrate Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and, of course, Easter Sunday. But what about Saturday? What must it have been like for Jesus’ followers on the day after he was crucified? The day before His resurrection?

Scripture doesn’t reveal much about this time, but we do know that some of the disciples had gathered together. Here’s how I imagine the scene.

Grief and fear covered the room like a cloak pulled tightly on a bitter cold day. Small groups of men and women huddled together in the room.

Mary sat in a corner, surrounded by her friends. Her face, blotched from crying all night, reflected the depth of her sorrow. The once-bright eyes that had shone with life and love were swollen and puffy from her deep pain.

She stared emptily at her sandals, then sighed deeply and raised her head, noticing the friends  surrounding her, put their comforting arms around her, and sharing her grief.

“In God’s hands. He is in God’s hands now and out of pain.” The ladies surrounding her nodded in agreement. “Once the Sabbath is over,” she said, her hands clasped on her lap, “we must work. We will need to gather and prepare the spices for his…his…,” she stifled back her sobs and continued. “Spices for his body. We must get them ready. First thing in the morning, we must go and anoint my son’s body.”

The ladies huddled together in the corner of the large room, making their plans for the next day, the day we now call Easter Sunday.

In another part of the room, John sobbed openly. His brother James stood beside him, his large, weathered hand on his brother’s shoulder. “How could He be gone,” wailed John. “He was to rule, and we were to rule with him, beside him.”

Sobs bent him double. After a few moments, he straightened up and looked at his brother through his tear-reddened eyes. “I don’t understand. He spoke wisdom, He healed people.” He wiped the sleeve of his cloak across his nose. “He was to be our Messiah. And now He’s gone. Gone. All we dreamed of, gone.”

Several in the room looked furtively about them, startling at every sound. Fear controlled them. With any noise, they were sure that soldiers were coming. Their hearts raced, for they expected to be arrested and nailed to a cross. Trembling, they feared they would suffer the same horrible fate as their friend Jesus.

Over all the quiet talking and tears, Peter’s voice rang out. He smashed his fist on the wooden table. “Why?” he cried out. “Why did I deny him? I deserted him in his time of need!” He tore at his cloak in anguish. “If only I’d stood up for him. If only I’d fought for him! Perhaps he’d still be alive today.”

If only they had known what we know. If only they had listened to Jesus, who told them He would rise again. If only they had trusted him.

But aren’t we the same as Jesus’ early disciples? Don’t we worry and cry when things don’t go as we thought they would? We cry, we stay busy to forget our troubles, we long for what we thought would happen, we tremble in fear, we become angry at missed opportunities, we lack trust in our Savior.

He told us He would see to our every need. He promised us abundant life. He sent His spirit to live within us, to guide us and help us. Yet we worry. Yet we doubt. Yet, just like the disciples, we too are human.

Resurrected Jesus, thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for your grace. Thank you for understanding our fears and lack of faith. Thank you for your grace and forgiveness. Thank you for Easter Sunday.

Judas at the Last Supper

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My name is Judas; you may have heard of me. Yes, I attended the “last supper.” But my mind was elsewhere. How desperately I wanted our promised land back! Because of that, three years previously, I’d been drawn to Jesus. I was so tired of the Roman rule that I was ready to do anything to foster rebellion.

Jesus seemed such a great candidate to lead that rebellion. His ideas were new and He constantly talked about His kingdom. Everywhere He went, people followed Him. They listened to His every word, ready to follow wherever He might go.

But He didn’t go where I wanted Him to go. I didn’t hear him preach against Rome. I didn’t hear him call people to arms and action. I started wondering if I had followed the wrong man.

Fortunately, He trusted me, and He put me in charge of the group’s treasury. Dutifully I gathered all the coins donated for His cause. With that money I purchased food and other necessities for the group.

But as I carried those money bags, something changed. With every step I took, that money jingled. It called to me. “Jingle…jingle…jingle. Judas, just think what you could do with all this money!” The longer I managed the money, the more it called to me.

I began stealing from the group treasury, just a few coins at a time. No one would ever notice. A few coins here, a few coins there, and suddenly I had acquired a great amount of money.

No longer would I waste my time watching Jesus heal the mobs of people who followed him wherever he went. No longer did I hang on every word Jesus spoke.

All I listened to was the jingling call of the coins. “Judas, Judas, take me. Take me! Think of all you can do with just a little more money.” Before long I had gone to the high priest and offered to betray Jesus. In exchange, he would give me thirty beautiful, jingly silver coins! I couldn’t wait.

During that “last supper” I had trouble concentrating. My mind kept wandering to the clink of the 30 pieces of silver dropping into my money bag. I knew just the time and place to betray Him, when no crowds could surround and protect him. Oh, I could almost hear the jingle of that money falling into my hands.

Jesus’ voice pulled me from my reverie. He was saying something about betrayal. All the other men started babbling at once. “Is it me?” “Not me, Lord?”

He looked at me and I quickly said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?”

He answered, “Yes, it is you.”

Clearly, Jesus knew. I gathered my money bag and left the room, hurrying toward my silver and my future.

Matthew 26:21-25 And while they were eating, he said, “I tell you the truth, one of you will betray me.

They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, “Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?”

Jesus replied, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born.”

Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, “Surely you don’t mean me, Rabbi?”

Jesus answered, “You have said so.”

Food for thought: Like Judas, am I allowing the things of this world to become more important than of the creator and savior of the world? What things am I allowing to distract me from Jesus? Money, fame, power, beauty, pleasure? In what ways do I betray Jesus by my actions or lack of action?

Father God, reveal my innermost thoughts. Show me the ways that I betray my Savior. Forgive me and cleanse me. Enable me to serve and worship you with a clean heart.

A Work of Art

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Many admire the beauty of glass, its colors sparkling. Stepping stones, with embedded glass, decorate gardens. Stained-glass windows inspire awe and reverence. 

To make the stained-glass, the artist first breaks the glass, leaving tiny splinters and sharp edges. Next, she grinds the edges smooth. Once shaped and smoothed, the artist solders the pieces together to create a stained-glass window. After the stained-glass is completed, its beauty is far greater than the original uncut glass. The artist transforms the glass into a work of art, matching the image seen in her mind.

Like the artist, God forms us into his image, creating our unique stained-glass. Before crafting us, God sees the finished product—more beautiful than we can imagine. Just as the artist arranges the glass, so God shapes us. This may not always be pleasant, but God, our designer and artist, completes the work he has begun. The more we yield to his touch, the more his light shines through. Someday all the jagged edges of our lives will be smoothed by God’s touch; someday he will shape us into his perfect work of art, allowing his love to softly glow through the colors of our lives.

May he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen. Hebrews 13: 21b (NIV)

Father, thank you for the work you are creating in me. Thank you for grinding my edges smooth and forming me into your image.

How has God been smoothing out your edges lately?

Tending the Garden: a Parable

There once was a woman who married, had children, worked hard to provide a pleasant home for her family and raise her children in a loving manner.  She worked in her church and did her best to serve her God in the ways she could.  After her children matured, this woman went to work and enjoyed meaningful labor.  In short, she was very typical:  She worked hard, enjoyed leisure time, and honored God.

But deep down inside her was a secret: nestled within the folds of her soul resided two tiny seeds:  seeds of doubt and faith.  Even she didn’t know those two seeds hid in her soul. 

She went to church every Sunday, and she said her prayers.  Her tiny seed of faith opened and grew miniscule hair-like roots.  She joined a bible study, and a small shoot emerged, opening tiny, green leaves.  Her faith grew.  But before long her life became so hectic she was unable to attend bible study, and she fell asleep before saying her prayers.  Life didn’t seem to be the way it should, for a normal woman.

Soon the little seedling of faith withered and drooped.  The seed of doubt opened and sent out strong roots.  The plant grew tall and sprouted many green leaves.  The woman grew restless and discontented.  Praying became difficult.  Doubt grew strong and vigorous, a flourishing weed.

A few weeks later, she tried to pray to God.  “God, where are you?  Why can’t I pray to you?”  Then God allowed her to see the weed of doubt and the tiny seedling of faith struggling in its shadow.

“Oh God!”  She cried out.  “Show me how to eradicate the weed of doubt!  How can I get rid of it?”

“Keep praying and spending time with Me,” a still, small voice seemed to say.  But the weed of doubt flourished and the tiny seedling of faith struggled to stay alive.

The next day she cried out to her God.  “Father, make that weed wither up and die!  Cause the seedling to grow and flourish.”

“Be patient, my child,” came the answer.  “Even though you do not feel my presence, I am here, and I love you.”  The tiny seedling of faith raised its leaves heavenward.

Father God, show me ways to nourish the seed of faith.

Proverbs 22:5 “In the paths of the wicked lie thorns and snares, but he who guards his soul stays far from them.”

What are you currently doing to nourish the seeds of faith?