Beyond

Looking beyond the present haze,
the promise awaits to bestow fresh vision;
invigorating weakened faith
grown lax from contentment with lesser morsels...

Beyond the present,
Beyond the veil,
Beyond the pressing concerns...
...Jesus awaits our voice in His ear;
as His outstretched hands ready us
for the journey ahead.

Hope renewed refreshes the spirit,
the life of love growing up out of mire.
Faith coming up from the struggle with shadows;
rearming the sword with a galvanized zeal.

Beyond this day lies the promise awaiting;
that fresh wind of life from the Father of Lights...

Eyes on the Prize

Philippians 3:14
"I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

I'll keep my eyes on the prize,
knowing that blesssed fellowship will bolster my strength and renew my spirit...
knowing also that the finish line has the best fringe benefits of any job...
knowing that with the Lord we are never alone; contrary to how our emotions lie...

I'll keep my eyes on the prize,
keeping the song of salvation in my heart as the Spirit leads me on...
singing that song as a celebration,
a sword,
and a victory cry to shout to the world of the power of God
...to change our hearts,
...and sometimes our circumstances for our good and His glory...

I'll keep my eyes on the prize,
knowing that the joy of the Lord is my strength,
knowing that weeping may endure for a night...and that joy comes in the morning.
knowing past reason that the word of the Lord is true, and that His love endures forever...

I'll keep my eyes on the prize,
because I believe that what lies ahead is more precious than gold...
...and that nothing in our earthly realm has the ability to compare with
the treasures of knowing the Lord...

I'll keep my eyes on the prize,
celebrating the work of His hands as my feet of clay seek to follow the path that
He would have me wallk in...looking for the good way so that I may walk in it...
celebrating the fellowship of believers because I know I cannot run the race alone...
celebrating the promise of heaven as a fragrant balm covering the divots of my soul...

I'll keep my eyes on the prize,
for I know that He lives and awaits my drawing near to Him in expectancy and faith...

I'll keep my eyes on the prize,
rejoicing in turbulent weather because He gives me that song of joy in the night seasons...

I'll keep my eyes on the prize,
because the prize is worth any travail I shall ever experience while living in my earthsuit...

Early Morning Stillness...

It is early morning as I write this, and my house is quiet. Everyone else is sleeping still, and allowing me to sit at the computer and write. This is a sip of joy to be sure, and my cup is full.

These mornings draw me towards reading, writing, praying, meditating, and taking inventory of my inner world. The quiet tends to pull the inward outward and tends to draw out the themes of my mental notebook. My prayer today is that the notebook contents are put in a form that is edifying to the Lord; placed squarely on the altar of sacrifice for His name's sake...

The song in my heart is forming for the day's activities. The Lord is gracious to give me a song in the night seasons as well as my waking hours. Praise poured out of a thankful soul invites the sweetness of His presence and performs soul surgery on those parts that need attention from the Great Physician. He shows me my need and holds my hand as He leads me beside the still waters. Oh, the beauty of morning in the divine plan! I know I am not alone in my observation; and know that people before me and after me will experience the same patch of life.

My prayer for you today is that you find that place that invites the Lord to visit you. Have a conversation with your maker and rediscover the joys of fellowship with Him. Nothing on earth compares with it, and nothing on earth can replace it. I shall leave you with this verse:
"With one sacrifice he made perfect forever those who are being made holy"
...Hebrews 10:14

Temperament and grace...

I have been reading about temperament types and the power of the Holy Spirit to transform them into His likeness. Reading about the carnal results of each of the temperament types has been a mixed bag of goodies in my estimation. Each temperament has its'strengths and weaknesses that, if brought to the extremes of human tendency can produce both delight and disaster. Hope stood afar from me as I read some of this material, and faith was waiting with the escape hatch for me to reach for the hand of the Lord.

Daily the believer has to return the ground that he or she has relinquished through careless living or battles lost to the enemy. Giving up individual right to pet sins and indulgences stings the comfort zone of the flesh; yet gives the spirit renewed life. The foot of the cross awaits us each day for us to visit and lay down our control as well as our burdens. That shed blood still has the power to dissolve the chains of tyranny imposed by our wandering flesh and the embedded arrows of darkness.

Refusing to abandon ourselves to overwhelming guilt over our weaknesses, let us look to the cross for that transforming power of the shed blood of Jesus. He is able to transform our temperament weaknesses from deficits to benefits. I pray that we can cultivate the habit of refocusing our eyes on Jesus instead of the cracks in our pots and the breaks in our armour.

Peace...we are beloved lambs cared for by our shepherd...

Have a cup o'joy,
Lynne

A Tainted Reflection

Psalm 119:77
Let Your tender mercies come to me, that I may live.


She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror as she passed by the front hallway of the house. Her hair was a mess, and there was a new wrinkle forming around her eye. Time had worked against her today and assaulted her vanity. Who did she look like today? Was it her mother's eyes? Her father's complexion? The smirk on her face that her husband claimed she passed on to the next generation? Ella thought about her reflection for a minute and then pushed it out of her mind. In fact, her mind took a leap-frog approach and replaced the mental image of her face for something else...

It was her goal as a believer in Jesus to try to reflect the image of God. How was that going to be possible today? The mental build-up of junk sloshed around in her thought processes to produce a pac man mentality; moving from thought to thought quickly so that she would get to the one that seemed manageable for the moment. What was she thinking of before she slipped into the sin of vanity? She stopped and looked at the bird bath next to the split-rail fence in her backyard. There was a fresh deposit of rainwater being pushed by a passing wind. Did a bird have the experience of catching his reflection in the water today? Was the movement of the water a hindrance to his burst of vanity? Surely, the existential question of whether it was him or not in the reflection would have been answered by the sound of an approaching cat sooner or later. There were a number of feral kitties meandering around the area these days, and the immediate concern of that bird would not be so intellectual if he were apprehended by a hungry predator.

Her brain was wandering and taking a mental detour in an effort to delay dealing with reality. Catching that glimpse of herself in the mirror was a mental jolt; producing the question in her mind that pushed her to consider who she was going to reflect today. Would she be a reflection of all that the Lord had done in her life? Would she be an embarassment to the cause of Christ or a blessing to others? Where was her mind today? Would it be stuck on selfish concerns or yield to the call of the Spirit to refocus itself on Jesus? The feel of the floor beneath her feet struck her as reminder that she was caught in an earthsuit. The mission for today was to hopefully be able to crawl out of her own head and more fully engage herself in the life outside of her own thoughts. The tainted reflection in the mirror propelled her to pray that the Lord would let His tender mercies reach her today and teach her how to live for the eternal.

Strength for the Journey

She was singing her own song to the Lord. The words had been in her for years, assuaging soul aches and haunting her in the night seasons...

"Sing,oh to the Savior now...for His redeeming grace...Sing, oh to the Savior now...His grace is just a prayer away..."

The minor keys rose out of her and pushed their way out into the air as sound waves into the atmosphere. She felt the heaviness lift and a renewed hope begin to glow from her eyes as she heard the Spirit of the Lord whisper a gentle word of encouragement to her heart. Ella was home again. The fruition of grace settled in and left behind a thorn of anxiety that the pit would become her residence once more.

Today was a good day. The memory of the past and a natural bent for the drifts of melancholy were with her still, yet the words of her savior were right there alongside her as well. Moments could be savored and strength could be drawn from the awareness of the Lord's presence through her days. The daily goal was to reach for the sword more than for the fishing pole. In her mind, even the fishing pole brought up verses of verdant truth instead of the stench of dead fish. This was a sign of the Lord's faithfulness. His healing touch had done something wonderful.

Ella was in the grocery store today, checking out customers and chatting with them as they were waiting for the printer to produce their receipt. It was noticeably slow in it's delivery of receipts. She joked that someone had either prayed for patience when making the machine; or the purchaser of the printers had decided to invest in the economy model over the more efficient choice. This garnered her a laugh or two and relaxed the customers into a more amenable state of mind. Grocery shopping brought out a crabby streak in some customers that erupted and was soothed over by showing grace and eating crow when necessary...

Her heart was working on her next post for the blog she wrote. She was a writer. She had rediscovered a raison d'etre and a steam vent all in one. The Lord was using what He gave her for His glory. There was nothing better to be chosen over this.

"Thank You for shopping with us. Have a great one, Ma'am!"

The customer looked back and gave her their familiar smile and a gentle response. Prayer was enveloping that customer as she left the checkout area and followed her to her car. Ella knew that this was where she needed to be for the moment.

Today had turned out well...and her love for the Lord grew...

Father's Day

The letter was sitting on the kitchen table. He had read it a few times over, but still felt himself drawn to the envelope with his daughter's handwriting on it. He could hear her voice as he read it, and yet felt as if he didn't quite know her. She was his little girl, and now she was married with children of her own. It was her turn now to care for them, keep an eye on them, worry about them...

She had never done something like this before for Father's day. She had designed her own cards for him, with her own copyright symbol on the back. He couldn't understand why she had not started writing stories or doing more with her writing than she was...but now she wrote him a letter for Father's day. He had been curious as to what the letter could contain. She had never done this before now. Maybe it was because he hadn't been feeling well lately. Whatever the reason, his emotions were playing ping-pong inside of his head. So many memories were coming back to the forefront of his mind as he read the letter again...

Dear Dad,

I thought about what I would do for Father's Day, and was coming up short. Then, I remembered that I gave mom a letter for Mother's Day and she seemed to like it. This is a break from tradition for us. Hey, it is more than you received last year. Sorry about that. Like I said, this is a new thing for both of us. I can imagine that you are feeling a bit awkward at this point, but rest assured that you have nothing to fear. Once you get over the initial shock, you may actually like hearing from me like this. Let's shoot for the moon!

I have always felt secure in your love. Even when you've been crabby, I have known that you have always had my best interest at heart. I have picked up on the real meaning of your questions about how my car is running and whether I have checked the oil lately. I get the picture. I love you, too.

Having a family of my own now has given me an idea of what you must have experienced as a parent. I know how you got your gray hair. It wasn't from Clairol, either! Parenthood can be stressful. I have heard it said that when you become a parent, a piece of your heart walks around outside of your body. I believe that is an accurate metaphor of how it feels to be a parent and watch your children grow. I also believe that God makes us so cute as babies that when we are teenagers our parents remember that before they decide whether to kill us or not. I suspect that may have been the reason that you let me survive into adulthood. I appreciate your forbearance more than I know how to express.


The tears were coming as he read the lines of the letter to himself. Why didn't she ever tell him these things before? What makes people wait to share their hearts with their loved ones? The ache dissipated as he continued to read the handwriting of his daughter. She was going easy on him, but that was to be expected. It was Father's day, and he hadn't been well. His illness affected everyone; from his wife and children to his siblings and extended family on both sides of the family tree.
Still, she hadn't said anything like this before in all of the years that they had known each other. Better late than never, he figured...

He read on and grew eager to see how the letter ended..."richly blessed to have you has a father...thankful for the opportunity to let you know how much I love you...sure that neither one of us feel comfortable with expressing these things to each other verbally as sincerely as we mean them..."

The words were hers, alright. She had a timid side to her that took over and shut her down in terms of communicating. If she didn't want to talk, then he had better luck roping an buffalo in New York City.

His heart was full of nostalgia and gratitude as he read the closing words to his Father's day present...
"May God impress upon your heart the tremendous impact that you have had on my character. Your love has made such a difference in my life....Love you!"

Anna was coming into the room; sporting a look of curiosity on her face that clearly meant she was curious about the letter. His wife of over 46 years was a part of all he held dear. She was beautiful and he adored her. Their children were their gifts to each other; and God's gift to them ultimately.

"Well, dear...how was it?"

"Good. Very nice. I guess I didn't do such a bad job raising her after all...I must've done something right..."

"Happy Father's Day."

The exchange ended with a kiss and a brief hug before Anna heard the buzzer go off on the dryer. She rubbed his back for a moment and excused herself to take care of the laundry. He held the letter in his hands for a moment, and then placed the letter back in the envelope before placing it back on the kitchen table. He would read it again later, just to hear her voice saying what he had wanted to hear for so long. It felt good to be loved.