You tell me
Trust is a muscle
You tell me
You tell me
Is Your labor
Trust in me
Bringing the peace
Of Your pacing
Your holy awakening
In my inhale
You remind me
It's in the releasing
In the yielding
To Your will
I can experience the fruit
The ravenous joy
Of living secure
You remind me
You're not withholding
But only awakening
Of longing and hunger
You've planted deep
You remind me
To not cower in shame
But in boldness
My each and every
Change of mind
Departing the old
For the new
Is beautiful to You.
For, it's You
Who's moved my feet
Out of the mire
And onto the Rock
To shake off the dust
You're lifting the veil
That's been hiding
Yes, each living Word
Engraved on this heart
Has fully released
The pain of my past
No need to turn back
Pleading for mercy
Fighting for truth
Or grieving the lost
For Your blood
Covers it all.
Now, I willingly
Bow the knee
And drink the cup
Your sovereign revealing
For, in the breaking
Of bread and this cup
I now recognize You
My Portion, Deliverer
The Resurrection and Life.
My mouth is filled with your praise,
declaring your splendor all day long.
Let everything that has breath praise
the Lord. Praise the Lord.
Romans 8:14-19 (ESV)
14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. 15 For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” 16 The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.
18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.
Happy Resurrection Sunday! He is risen! He is risen indeed!!!
This is the fourth installment of Anna Smit’s personal testimony to the love and mercy of Jesus. These monthly installments of her testimony are God’s answer to all of us who have walked a path of trauma and heartache, believing our God has abandoned us. For He has never ever forsaken us and He wants us to know it, and to see the fingerprints of the Cross – and His unending love for us – all over our lives. For the first installment see: Love Never Ends.
As I was running through the red-golden forest, a few years ago, I reflected on the grief that had been building within me. It was coming up to the month, in which my world turned upside down and my heart was torn between two continents, as I traveled to the other side of the world with my one-year-old daughter to be with my mother before she entered a life-threatening operation.
I had to leave my three-year-old daughter, who had only ever spent two nights apart from me, and my husband, behind. My already tearing heart was yanked further apart, as we heard the diagnosis a few short days later: a terminal brain cancer with no hope of survival, with a life-expectancy of two to three months.
And yet, in journeying back to that time in my heart, I am reminded of God’s deep abiding presence and the many gifts He showered upon me during one of the hardest times of my life. There are three places and moments in particular His peace descended so powerfully upon me, that it shattered my understanding of who He was, is and is to come:
1. In the mountains
I surveyed the spectacular wonder of the mountains and lake, the way the sky broke open and I felt a love envelop me. In that moment I was completely and utterly broken. I felt torn between my own immediate family and my Mum. A heaviness rested upon me as the death sentence of two to three months Mum was given weighed upon me.
I was hushing my little girl into sleep, a wee girl who often refused to sleep and kept getting sick. But in that one moment, my hardened heart broke and tears flowed. A God who I had for years envisioned shaking His finger at me, covering me in guilt and shame, was holding me. And I couldn’t stop crying. Me the sinner, the one who kept failing, kept losing the control she fought so hard to hold onto.
2. In the dunes
When I ran alongside my husband, coming to a clearing where all I could see was dunes upon dunes, and a startlingly, beautiful sky. This was in the five weeks, when I found myself on one continent, but my heart was on the other, with my dying Mum.
My heart was torn in two, a grief I will never be able to fully explain in words. But in that moment God’s beauty poured out over me like a balm and all the tension and fear and ripping came to a halt and poured out into tears that kept flowing.
Psalm 23:6 (The Message)
Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life. I’m back home in the house of God for the rest of my life.
3. With my dying Mum.
Our last Christmas together, a little more than four months before Mum entered heaven’s gates
The more she surrendered the greater the peace that settled upon her. I was anything but peaceful during that time, as I kept myself frantically busy doing everything I could for Mum and her home. So, the contrast was startling. The less she did, the more she surrendered to her Lord and Saviour, the more peace settled upon her. The more I did, the greater the fear, tension, unsettled feeling grew.
Philippians 4:6-7 (The Message)
Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.
And so, when I returned home, I vowed to seek after this peace that passes all understanding. And it brought me to the table of grace, to His broken body and flowing blood that covered all my guilt, all my shame, all that I’d sought to run and hide from, in my utter brokenness.
John 3: 16 (NIV)
For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.
Now, when I look back, my Mum’s greatest gift to me is not the years of beautiful service to me as her child. Not the hugs, the kisses, the way she looked at my girls, the giving of her heart till no more could be given. No, her absolute greatest gift to me is her testimony to the abiding life and peace of Jesus in her.
My Mum was not the same woman I grew up with. I saw the grace of Jesus change her, more and more, especially at the end. It’s not that she wasn’t a warm, loving and kind Mum, when I was little. Because she was.
But, Jesus kept plunging her deeper into His grace, stripping more and more sin and extending more and more of His love through her. I saw Christ’s patience, kindness, selflessness, a listening ear, forgiveness, such gentleness, but also blunt, much-needed truth-telling, grow in my Mum.
You see, Mum didn’t hide her light. She went to heaven declaring God’s peace to this world. At the end especially, she spoke freely of her own need for His grace and of His kindness and gentleness toward the least of these.
And she uncovered the truth. Thanks in part to the brain cancer taking away her social filter, she preferred to be genuine at the end, rather than hide behind a mask of self-righteousness to remain religiously palatable. Beautifully Jesus perfected His power right there in her weakness, using the cancer to bless her and others.
In bringing things into the open, God helped my Mum surrender her innate desire for earthly harmony and understanding. And through that painful, but freeing surrender, she was able to fully embrace the eternal wholeness and completion Christ set before her. Ultimately the jealous all-consuming love of our Jesus won.
Song of Songs 8:6 (NIV)
Place me like a seal over your heart,
like a seal on your arm;
for love is as strong as death,
its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,
like a mighty flame.
And so now, slowly, very slowly, I am learning to follow my Mum’s lead. I am learning to obey Christ’s call to come as I am to receive His grace. I am learning to release guilt, fear and shame in exchange for His arms.
I am learning to confess my sins and weakness openly, to shine the light of Christ’s love and grace into the world. And like my Mum, I am learning to be genuine, by bringing things into the open. I am learning to let go of my innate desire for earthly harmony and understanding to embrace instead the eternal wholeness and completion set before me.
And most importantly I am learning that what matters most, above all else, is not this world’s love and approval, but that my LORD and Savior is with me and will never leave or forsake me.
For, even when all else fades away, as it did for my Mum, I know without a shadow of a doubt that that’s when my Jesus, my Savior, will be unveiled fully in me. And what a day that will be!
Isaiah 40: 8 (ESV)
The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.
Will you join me today, as I sit afresh in Hebrews 12 today?
Hebrews 12: 1- 4 (The Message)
Do you see what this means – all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running – and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed – that exhilarating finish in and with God – he could put up with anything along the way: cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls.
Father God, thank You that You know just what I need. Thank You that You set me apart to draw me near. Thank You that when all else fades away, You remain. Thank You that You have promised to never leave or forsake me.
Forgive me for clinging to fear and shame, for believing that You have abandoned me in this time of waiting. Help me to resist the devil, to stop listening to the accuser’s claims and to lean ever deeper into Your open arms of grace.
Father God, thank You for giving me a front row seat to the transformation You worked in my Mum. Help me too to trust You now with this path You have set before me, that just like my Mum experienced, is not what I expected or what I thought I needed or wanted.
Help me to see what You see. Uncover the true desires of my heart and make me a blessing to all those You put before me. Shine Your light of love and grace brightly in and through me.
Thank You for the Cross. Thank You that it is finished. Thank You, Jesus, for dying to make us, Your Body whole and complete, with YOU at our Head. Thank You that You have the final say. Thank You that we will all yet see Your full recompense: Your eternal wholeness and completion come.
Help me to keep stripping the sin that hinders me from being who You have made me to be. Empower and embolden me to run the race You have set before me with expectant joy, to complete it and to make You proud in doing so. Amen.
Today, my thoughts have turned to answered prayers. As I reflected on Easter, I thought about Jesus being the answer to generation upon generation of prayers. And how that answer to all those prayers came in such an unexpected way that many missed the answer. They missed our Savior’s coming, misunderstood or even helped bring about His death and couldn’t believe in His resurrection.
But what a gift Jesus was and is to those of us who, through the touch of the Holy Spirit, have recognized His coming, His death for us and His resurrection to give us new life. As we walk toward Easter weekend and remember Christ’s death on the Cross and His resurrection, may He open our eyes, ears and hearts to recognize the many answers to prayers He has brought. May we also become His answer to the prayers of others as we obey His calling. And may our ears continue to hearken to His promptings to pray in the Spirit for the return of His children and the coming of His Kingdom.
May the beautiful answers He brings us, through His Presence with us, also become answers for others also. May we share the hope and comfort He has given us with those He places before us.
Happy Easter! As you celebrate Jesus this week, may this poem and song encourage and uplift you:
Where it was once want
Leading to Light we now see.
Always so near
He never abandons
Ever so patient, remains.
His palm branch
Blessed of grace that we are.
Coming in splendor
Sun streaming glory
Bathing us here in His Light.
No longer weighted
Our burden Lifter
Always He’s breathing to Life.
Promise in bruisèd
And smoldering wick
He will not break or snuff out.
Justice He brings
In captives He frees
Hope’s strong Voice in us lifts.
Thankful we raise
Our anthem of praise
Casting abandoned our cares.
Raising His children
Hand lifting faces
Shining, His radiance us glows.
No longer shame, here our name.
Called and He’s chosen
Redeemed and belovèd
Nothing His love can destroy.
All dark and hopeless
Purposed for Living
Christ in us be raised.
Our eyes He gives us
“It’s finished” gifts us
Whole and His Perfect to see.
Wings in His timing unfold.
His thoughts above ours
Master’s own brushstrokes
Poema loved, we are His.
Let us not draw back
Hide or strive fearful
But come as children restored.
He will not shun us
Remove or shame us
But only break open to Life.
Give thanks for the bread broken
His Body saved us
Living, His blood in us streams.
And every ache
Sin and our weakness, He’s borne.
Search here and know us, Lord
Let Your holiness draw us
Your will in grace, Christ fulfill.
Send us and teach us
Cross here to carry
Your Kingdom come to proclaim.
Loved first, we love
All You have given, we shall release.
Sharpened by iron
Hands clasped together
One in Your Spirit: we each belong.
Let us not shirk
Or fear filled withdraw now
But in Love’s own perfecting grow.
Our battle He’s won
Our hearts now are His
Nothing shall stand in His way.
Cheering us on
Hope beckoning us homeward.
I am making all things new
Christ speaks, deep unto deep
My eyes they turn
Reeds are swaying
Waters green, there below
Basket woven, her hands
My heart it grips
I see my own
From my hands,
No, not in trust
But in tight clenched hands
Lies, they ripped
I am making all things new
Christ speaks, deep unto deep
And my heart it rips
His precious gift
Reeds are swaying
Waters green, there below
Basket woven, my hands
Weeping heart now flows
I see my own
Into my hands,
I am making all things new
Christ speaks deep unto deep
My eyes turn to waters green
Resting now in all things:
Almost seven years ago I came back Home to my Heavenly Father. Since then, Christ has been opening my palms to release one basket after another, trusting in their return, just like I watched my Mum do, upon her death bed, as she arose into the arms of Jesus, surrendering us all into His loving hands.
Oh how it hurts. Oh how my heart is ripped open in the process. But oh how precious the touch of Jesus is in those deep places of hurt within my heart. In the ripping open He is entering my heart to open my eyes to His eternal restoration and redemption. To His hands wrapped around those He has asked me to surrender; and that includes myself.
Oh yes, the enemy knows how to steal, kill and destroy. But our mighty God knows how to restore, resurrect and redeem. And He is faithful till the end. Even when we have clenched those hands tight in distrust and not released what was never ours to hold tight to in control, His mercy runs deep. His heart of compassion and justice have gone ahead. Walking toward His Cross He wept, saying: “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.”
Oh there are many days I still struggle. As a little girl God gave me the spiritual gift of mercy. It is this that has broken my heart so very much. As a Prodigal I cursed this gift that only seemed to steal, kill and destroy from me. And even now there are days I retreat with my pain and ask: “Why, oh why, my Lord?” But slowly God is teaching me how to receive this gift, by unclenching my hands and releasing my heart and others’ hearts into His heart, to be made new in His love for us: His Body. A Body that was broken to make us whole.
As I walked through the pastures this afternoon, He showed me how every time I have said: “Here, I am, send me.” It has been the great I AM who has awakened me to His call and it is also the great I AM who has enabled me to walk out that call in the world, no matter how much it hurt and how impossible it seemed.
As I prayed, walking further, through a forest, a song sprung up within me. It bubbled over, moments after His kindness had walked itself out in me. HE put a person I knew on my path, enabling me to extend a kindness I had wanted to extend from my heart, but couldn’t. But right there, in that moment He had destined, right there in my lack, His heart of love flowed out of me effortlessly, in such tenderness, and covered us both in His love and mercy.
This is His song of mercy that keeps on singing in me through every surrender. A surrender not worked by me, but by the One who lives and moves and has His being in me. For, it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me:
Yes, His favor keeps on pouring, because we find favor in His sight, through His Son at work in us:
Today’s post first appeared on my dear friend, Wendy Simpson’s blog, Widow’s Manna , about five years ago. Wendy is not only a creative writer, but an artist, producing beautiful sketches, paintings, intricately woven blankets and prayer shawls, plush toys, digital art and cards. You can find her artwork on her WordPress Wendy’s Vignettes and her Facebook Wendy’s Vignettes.
Been thinking about perspective…..
Take a little time to look up an impressionist’s painting. I love Monet. With that fresh in your mind, think about perspective. When you walk up close to this painting, you will observe thousands of small brush strokes in an array of colors. Close up there is some beauty but in many ways it looks like a lot of chaos truly makes no sense. It is pretty hard to get an idea of what the artist it trying to express. Now take several steps back from this painting. Something amazing happens. Thousands of tiny brush strokes make way for shapes and structure. The colors blend together to create new colors and something you could not see before, takes shape. The chaos become beautiful and the artist intended expression makes more sense.
It is like that in life. When we are face to face with trials of life, there is not much room for perspective. We see the chaos of each brush stroke and a mess of color that seem strangely placed. There is no picture and beautiful is the last way we would describe our life. But God sends people into our lives, who have been standing back observing this “painting” process in our life. Their perspective is something we couldn’t see, being in the middle of it all. They see colors blending together and pictures that have taken shape. They see that the artist intentions were beauty not chaos. They see reasons for color choices, that we would never have chosen. So, all this to say, we are thankful for those who have spoken perspective into our lives. And those who have pointed out the order in our chaos.
Both perspectives are necessary to walk through a process like this. You can stand back and see the picture being painted before you and have, in turn shared what you observe, color blending and something taking shape. I can share the details I don’t see colors blended, I see instead, what was used to make that color. I see the tears and agony and joys and victories it took to paint one of the thousand brush strokes. To me every stroke has a meaning. You see it as part of the big picture’s beauty. But when I cannot understand why a stroke was placed, I need only to remember there is a big picture and the artist, he knows why. Every stroke is part of the masterpiece.
I am thankful for those of you who share perspective. We are just living it, and in living it, we do not see outside the everyday survival at times. Thank you for your encouragement and love and grace as we walk this journey one day one “brush stroke” at a time.
Five months before Chris passed, on the heels of life altering surgery, I was desperate and looking for hope and perspective. (Above is an excerpt of that.) I’d put aside passions and parts of me that I felt would hinder complete and utter devotion to caring for Chris. I stored away and stuffed the ache and the sadness, for as long as I could. Allowing myself moments, trying (not too successfully) to make them brief. Aw… control… it served me well, ha, or so I thought. Amidst the journey’s steps I have (on so many occasions) broke down, and completely lost my resolve, to be strong (on my own strength). Having very little grace in my grief, I’ve fallen into chaotic and messy emotional places, and always get so upset with myself. After a fairly long battle, and after tears have subsided, then …. I’d finally seek God’s face and the wise counsel that came from those candles God had placed along the dark cave walls of this journey. All I had to do is reach out… and there it was… His divine provision.
“He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son…. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” -Colossians 1:13, 17 (ESV)
“That their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” Colossians 2:2-3 (ESV)
Now, my perspective has been narrowed some and I am looking, specifically, at the dark brushstrokes. Deconstructing them, if you will, for perspective and to find His goodness. These brushstrokes, left unattended, could make my whole canvas… go dark. These brushstrokes I speak of, have screamed out for my attention for awhile now, and up to now… I have ignored them and refused to give them audience. In a sea, of over twenty years of living and life with my husband, I now choose not to continue to suppress the pain of His passing and the disappointments, so that I can just mourn….
….My death …the death of a caregiver
….Watching death…. stolen years.
….Lost and changing relationships.
….Not fitting in.
….The missing arms and lost affection.
In the coming days and weeks I resolve to explore these dark strokes on my canvas and begin the process of acknowledging their pain to finding their worth. I believe that God can take all that is, the fallen part of man… and create in us… something good. The goodness being… Christ in us the hope of glory.