Breathe

Sometimes God speaks through movies. Even re-runs.

On a recent slow Saturday afternoon, I sat down to watch the last half hour of the movie Hoosiers. It’s a feel-good sports movie about a small-town high school basketball team that wins the state championship. It’s a David and Goliath sort of adventure that includes a love story. I’ve probably seen it at least six times.

In the final scene, the smaller, less likely basketball team makes a last-second point to defeat the team favored for the championship.
I knew this was going to happen. I’d seen it before. But this time when I saw the ending, I had an involuntary sob erupt from deep inside my chest. I pushed it back down out of embarrassment, but it sat heavy in my throat wanting to be released.

I’m not stoic. I cry at movies. But it’s usually the teardrop-out-of-the-side-of-your-eye kind of cry. This was an ugly sob that wanted to erupt. Where did it come from?

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen good defeat evil,” I said to my husband as I tried to explain my emotional response.

Then it dawned on me.

I was feeling hope – and it caused me to take a deep, sudden breath.

I’m not sure when it started, but somewhere in the heaviness of the last three months, I’d stopped getting my hopes up and I’d started holding my breath. Somewhere along the way, I’d gotten deflated and let current events dictate my level of faith and hope instead of leaning on God for strength.

With that realization I began to see a pattern in the effects of the recent world events -- LACK OF BREATH.

1. Pandemic – A major symptom of COVID-19 is difficulty breathing.
2. Racism – The world watched as the breath of a man was slowly snuffed out.
3. Weird weather – A dust cloud from the Sahara Desert made it difficult for some people with allergies to breathe as it passed over.
4. COVID restrictions – Don’t breathe on people. Cover your mouth. In some situations, don’t sing.

The target of all these forces was the same – our breath.

This isn’t just about physical breath. I believe there is also an attack on our spiritual breath.

The Old Testament Hebrew word for the Spirit of God is ruach which means breath. God’s breath is responsible for all that is created. The Ruach Elohim is mentioned in the first verses of Genesis to describe the Spirit of God hovering over the waters. In Genesis 2:7, “God breathed into man’s nostrils and he became a living being.”

In the New Testament, the Greek word for breath is pneuma which also means spirit, often the Holy Spirit. When Jesus appeared to his disciples after his resurrection, “he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” (John 20:22)

As I processed this insight, I could sense God’s invitation for me, and anyone else who is weary, to receive a divine resuscitation – allowing His Spirit to fill us anew with hope that only He can bring.

To activate this hope, we use our breath. Here’s a few ways to begin:

1. Speak God’s word out loud.

I know it sounds strange, but there’s something important about using sound waves right now. Amidst all the voices and discord that currently fill the air, there’s a shift when we speak God’s word out loud. Find a Bible verse that ministers to you and read it out loud. It’s a powerful way to pray. It aligns our spirits with God’s purposes. That doesn’t mean that all our wishes and desires come true.

God’s Word is a sword, not a magic wand.

When we declare God’s truth out loud, it first begins to cut away at us – removing strongholds and attitudes that need to go. This process strengthens our ability to cooperate with God’s purposes on earth and recognize where He is at work.

2. Pray with others.

Praying with others in person or virtually holds us accountable to pray, keeps us from becoming too isolated, and strengthens us to hold on in faith to the promises we are believing God to fulfill.

3. Speak Life over others.

Is there something good you see in someone? Tell them! Is there encouragement you have for someone who is struggling? Share it! It’s life to the bones. Ezekiel literally found this out when He spoke the word of the Lord over a whole valley of dry bones.

In Ezekiel 37, God told Ezekiel to “prophesy to the breath” of these dry bones. Verse 10 says: “So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet – a vast army.”

So I’m using my breath and I’m declaring to anyone who will listen that I believe with all my heart that the best is yet to come. We aren’t supposed to sit this one out. As we lean into God’s Word and are empowered by his Spirit, we will receive a second wind that enables us to walk out the role in the story God has written for each of us.

It’s a David and Goliath sort of adventure that includes a love story.

Becoming

What will we be like when this pandemic is over?

If you’re like me, you’ve thought about the things you want to do and the people you want to see and hug when these COVID-19 sanctions lift. This time sequestered in our homes has given us all a greater appreciation for things and people we once took for granted.

But what if this time has been about more than that?

What if we have an opportunity to not just exit out of this experience, but emerge from it?

What if this time we’ve been in hasn’t been so much a holding tank, but a cocoon?

As a Christian, I’ve been in awe at how this quarantine experience has made my anticipation of this Easter even more meaningful.

As I look forward to celebrating Christ’s resurrection this Sunday, there are some insights I’m having as I walk through these holy days just before.

1.Before there can be a resurrection, there must be a death. We celebrate Christ’s resurrection because he was faithful first to die on the cross for us. We don’t always get to fast forward to the happy ending. We usually get walk through and learn from each page of our lives. This chapter of quarantine has been one that has handed many of us an opportunity to die to certain things we’ve relied too heavily upon.

2.Some things must die – Bad habits, addictions, character flaws, relationship issues all have a way of rearing their heads in a time like this. Chances are good that you already know what your issues are, and you’ve tried several ways to improve in these areas. But what if the real thing that needs to be laid down in this season is our sense of self sufficiency to take care of these issues ourselves? Only God can bring a dead relationship back to life. Only God can straighten the places where we’ve gone askew. Certainly, there will be things we get to do in partnership with God, but the main is challenge we face is handing Him the controls.


3.Some things get to die – So many of us have things we’ve had to cancel or miss because of quarantine -- proms, graduations, birthdays, wedding and anniversary celebrations, trips abroad, business plans. The list goes on and on. Surrendering our plans and disappointment to God is hard and it can hurt. Jesus is our example in this struggle. He has felt the agony of surrendering to God’s will. He prayed on the Mount of Olives right before he was betrayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” In his humanity Jesus agonized over what he knew was ahead of him and longed for a different way to work things out. But he surrendered his will to God’s bigger plan.


4.Death and surrender can make rich soil -- Death isn’t the end. As we surrender more fully to God, it creates this beautiful fertile place where God can do a new thing in us. It opens the door to the bigger redemption story He has written for us to walk out. In the end, we will see our plans were too small.

As I approach this Good Friday, and I remember the sacrifice Jesus made for me, I am asking myself what places I’ve struggled giving up during this time. I’m choosing to loosen my grip on those things and make them my offering to God. And in that place, I’m believing for a resurrection that only God could bring.

Stillness

As an introvert, I must admit my heart did a happy flutter when I was told I had to work from home due to COVID-19 restrictions.

Week One didn’t disappoint. I was excited to get to work in my sweats and accomplish a lot in the quietness of my house.

But as I begin to walk through the threshold of Week Three, I don’t feel so fluttery. I feel more like I’m being grounded. Many of my social privileges have been taken away in the last few weeks and I am confined to my home except for a daily walk and an occasional trip to the store.

A blanket of stillness has fallen all over the world.

Even if you are home with your spouse and children, there’s a kind of stillness — no school, no soccer games or gymnastics. Although there may be some hassles related to this new living arrangement, there’s no hustle and bustle. We are just home alone or with our immediate family.

In an instant, our social calendars were wiped clean. Stillness.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this stillness.

Stillness can be unsettling or peaceful.
The lack of familiar distractions can be uncomfortable because it enables us to more easily see issues we have been hiding from or neglecting to address in our lives.
But there’s also a clarity that can come with stillness — a freedom to focus on what truly matters.

God often speaks in stillness.
In 1 Kings 19:11-13, after Elijah had a major victory and defeated the prophets of Baal, fear gripped him, and he ran for his life from Queen Jezebel.
After this, when God spoke to Elijah, His voice didn’t come in a mighty wind, on in an earthquake, or in a fire, but in a still small voice.
And God’s question to Elijah was, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

In this season of stillness, perhaps God is coming near and whispering to each of us, “What are you doing here?” We have a fresh opportunity to truly look at ourselves.
Where do we want to change? What really matters? What relationships do we want to cherish and hold onto?

Stillness can heal.
Psalm 23:2 - 3 says, “He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.”
If we cooperate with God’s leading, there is a restorative, healing effect of the stillness and peace God’s presence brings.

Stillness invites us to intimacy with God
Not only do our own issues become clearer in stillness, but God does too. Psalm 46:10 says “Be still and know that I am God.”
The word know in this verse means the know intimately.

My husband is a tall man, and when I give him a bear hug, the side of my face falls on his chest right where his heart is. If I am still, I can hear his slow steady heartbeat. Intimate stillness.

As all the voices in this pandemic season urge us to keep our distance and wash our hands, God’s still small voice is beckoning us to draw near to him, hear His heartbeat and experience His peace.

I don’t want to come out of this time without being changed for the better. So, as I stare at Week Three of “shelter in place,” I am committing to remind myself that I’m not being grounded by this stillness, but rather invited into it -- to know God and His peace more fully.

A Word of Encouragement

Amid the massive upheaval that the Coronavirus is causing, it can be difficult not to fall prey to the fear that is so quickly engulfing the world. But I believe this is a key time for the people of God to walk in the powerful reality of the love and peace that only God can give. While borders, schools, and public events are closing, unique doors of opportunity are swinging open for believers to share God’s hope.

Our challenge is to look with heaven’s eyes at this situation – eyes of faith. This situation does not limit God. What is He doing in this and how can we co-labor with Him? I know of a ministry team that is currently on a Spring Break outreach in New York City. Although some would say the timing of their trip is unfortunate, they have had incredible opportunities to minister the peace of Christ in the midst of widespread panic within the city.

To walk in the faith and power God gives us, we must “put on the full armor of God so that we can stand our ground.” (Ephesians 6:10 - 18)

This isn’t being “super-spiritual.” We still acknowledge the facts. Coronavirus is a real thing. It has the power to spread rapidly. There are healthy choices we can make to try to keep ourselves free from sickness.

But we do not have to fear. We have the power of God’s Word, the sword of the Spirit, to fight against this.
2 Timothy 1:7 is a Scripture that gives us words to live by during this time:

“God hasn’t given us a spirit of fear” – When we feel ourselves slipping down the rabbit hole of “what ifs” that the daily news delivers, we can remind ourselves that this panic isn’t from God. Fight back by doing what you need to focus on the truth of God’s peace amid difficult circumstances.

“But of power” – God’s Word has power. Declare it. Read passages of Scripture over your home, speak them out as you walk in your neighborhood and workplace. Pray them over your country and the world.

“And of love” – How is God inviting you to display and share His love? Be ready to encourage, bless others and share God’s love to those He places in your path.

“And a sound mind” – Look at the facts, rightly assess the threat, make healthy choices. Walk in the wisdom that God brings.

As we choose to trust in God, this can be a “David and Goliath” moment for believers. While the enemy tries to loom large and render the world powerless by instilling fear and panic, we have the opportunity to experience the bigness of our God as we trust in Him and declare His truth. As Hebrews 10:25 says, “But we do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved.” In the days ahead, let’s be carriers of the contagious peace and love that only Christ can bring! Amazing opportunities await us!

Expectantly Waiting

Waiting. It’s frustrating. It’s maddening. It can be holy.

Most of the substantial spiritual fruit in my life has come from seasons of waiting. Long delays have challenged my personal agendas and invited me to slow down and focus on the things that truly matter.

Waiting reveals the condition of my heart.

I love Advent Season. It’s essentially a season dedicated to waiting – expectant waiting to celebrate Jesus’ birth and to anticipate His future return.
Waiting by itself can be pointless, but expectant waiting means there is hope for something ahead. There is purpose to the waiting.

But even expectant waiting can be difficult when it takes a long time. It’s difficult to keep believing day after day that there’s a reason to hope. It stretches me. I can’t do this on my own. I must have God’s help.

One of my favorite Advent songs is “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” by Charles Wesley. That’s a fancy English title that just means, “Come on, Jesus! We’ve been waiting a long time!”

Simeon and Anna are my spiritual heroes. They knew about waiting.

Simeon was a man who “was righteous and devout.” The Holy Spirit was upon him and revealed to him that he would not die until he had seen “the Lord’s Christ.”
Anna was a prophetess who was widowed after only seven years of marriage. She had spent the rest of her life (84 years) living in the temple and worshipping day and night.

Simeon and Anna had actively waited for most of their lives to meet their Messiah. It would be impossible for them not to have expectations about who Messiah might be. It’s doubtful they thought He would be an 8-day-old infant. Their ability to recognize baby Jesus as Messiah shows they had kept their hearts soft in the waiting. They quickly discarded any of their own expectations and glorified God.

Simeon said, “Sovereign Lord, as you have promised you may now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen salvation, which you prepared in the sight of all people.” (Luke 2:29-31)

Expectant waiting gives us eyes to see what God is doing in plain sight – things that might be easy to miss otherwise.

So, this Advent Season, as I anticipate celebrating Jesus’ birth, I’m also leaning in to the places of longing where I’m still waiting for God to show up in deeper ways. And I’m asking for spiritual eyes to recognize His presence – even when He shows up in unexpected ways.

Getting there from here

I've been thinking about my spiritual journey lately and looking at the different junctures I've encountered along the way. All these crossing points start with the letter B, so I think there must be a sermon in there somewhere:)

1. Barriers -- We've all encountered them. They are those things that seemingly will not budge. They can take our focus away from God and tempt us to give up hope. Sometimes they are there because of something sinful we've done, but sometimes they aren't. Either way, these road blocks challenge our faith and trust in God.

Barriers can sometimes be spiritual deserts -- maybe God doesn't seem to be speaking the way He used to, doors of opportunity aren't opening, or life feels stale. I've had a couple of memorable desert seasons in my life. While I was in them, I was sometimes convinced I would never get out. But each desert season had a unique way of slowing my life down. In this place of stillness the areas where my life had become off balance came into focus. I'd placed my confidence too much in a job position or in what other people thought. God was asking me to put my confidence back in him. For me, the ticket out of the desert was surrender -- surrender of the picture I thought my life was going to look like -- surrender to God's plan.

2. Boundaries -- Boundaries are a buzzword in today's society. While they exist for our protection, that doesn't mean they aren't frustrating when they are encountered.

In my life, God has laid boundary lines in front of me several times that have stopped me from moving into a place that I wasn't yet equipped to handle. For me this has happened in situations where God spoke something to my heart and I thought it was supposed to happen right away. Wrong. This delay made me question whether or not I had heard God at all. My ticket out of this dilemma was patience. During the time that I (imperfectly) waited for God to deliver on His word, He was faithfully preparing me to be able to sustain and walk in what He had for me. In His grace, He refused to let me rush the process and risk destroying or diluting his purpose for my life.

3. Borders -- My family lived in Canada for four years, and during that time we crossed the border into the U.S. many times. It was always very obvious when we reached the border. It was a place that was clearly marked where we had to stop and present our identification before we could pass through.

Today, my family lives in Texas, and we regularly visit relatives in Tulsa. When we cross over the border from Texas into Oklahoma, if I'm paying attention, I see the sign letting me know I've entered another state. But there have been plenty of times when I didn't even realize when we crossed over from one state to another.

Similarly, there have been clearly marked events in my life where I've definitely crossed over into new territory. Marriage and parenting were two examples of this. While life still went on after both of these events, it was very apparent that I had entered into a new place. Decisions were made differently. Schedules changed. My life was forever altered -- (for the good).

Then there have been those borders that I crossed in my life without knowing exactly when it happened. These came at times when I walked through a long process of (imperfectly) choosing to be obedient to something God asked of me. One place this happened is where I chose to forgive when my heart didn't want to. For months I flip-flopped in my willingness to give things over to God, but each time I would land on the side of forgiveness. Over time, things didn't hurt as much. Then there was that day when I realized that I actually could wish that person well without wanting to hurl. Somewhere in all the wrestling, my heart had been set free. I'd crossed the border into true forgiveness.

4. Bridges -- Bridges help us cross over to places we could not reach on our own strength. Jesus is the ultimate example of this. He laid down his life and in doing so spanned the huge canyon our sin had created that separated us from God.

There is a selfless path where God calls each of us to be a bridge. There are specific places God asks us to lay down our lives in a way that helps others to cross over into places they could not reach on their own. It's the Body of Christ in action. I want to say yes to that!
(I've written more about being a bridge in an earlier blog I posted in 2012 called "Like a Bridge".)

Keeping it real time (with my husband and Sir Paul)

About 10 years ago when my second daughter started college, she encouraged me to join a social media site called Facebook.

"It's mainly college kids," she explained. "But there are some people on it who are your age, and it will be a fun way for us to stay in contact."

I joined Facebook and had a great time inviting the college students I knew to be my friends. Our home computer at that time was upstairs and each night I would enjoy looking over the posts of my Facebook friends. It felt kind of like reading a news paper with stories about people I knew. I was shocked, however, why people would post pictures of their vacations and things like that. Why did they think everyone wanted to see their pictures of the Rocky Mountains, or Disney Land?

Over the last 10 years as the home computer has taken a backstage to the smartphone, it's become even easier to post personal details on multiple social media websites -- and I have followed the trend.

So much of this has been fun. I've kept track of birthdays and stayed in touch with friends and family in a way that doesn't happen by mailing letters. I can get regular pictures of my grandkids, and FaceTime allows me to see those dear to me as we chat. I enjoy keeping up to date on the events of my friends' lives. Sometimes I even like looking at the photos of what they ate for dinner (within reason).

But the whole social media thing has had an effect on me that I'm not proud to admit.

It's made it harder for me to "live in the moment."

I'm embarrassed to say that many conversations I have with my family and friends are at least temporarily disrupted with the "ping" of a text or Facebook message.

Whenever I have an extended time away from my phone, I'm swift to pick it up to see what I missed while I was gone.

At times when I am enjoying a night out with family or friends, instead of fully entering into the moment, I often think about capturing a photo so I can show everyone on Facebook or Instagram the great fun I'm having.

I want to be better than that.

I first became aware of this problem three years ago.

My husband surprised me with a road trip to Edmonton Alberta to see Paul McCartney in concert. As we sat in our seats waiting for the concert to begin, I pulled out my cell phone and started to take a selfie of the two of us in the midst of a swarm of Paul McCartney fans.

"What are you doing?" my husband asked.

"I'm taking a picture of us to post on Facebook," I answered.

"Dont do that!" he protested as he stuck his arm out to block my shot.

"Why not?" I said perturbed.

"This is OUR anniversary."

BAM.

My husband's invitation for me to join him in real time hit me square between the eyes. It highlighted how I was thinking more about my "friends" in cyberland than I was about the person right in front of me.

We thoroughly enjoyed that evening. Sir Paul came back for 3 encores and the only photo I have to show for it is one I took at the beginning of the evening when we were standing in line waiting to get inside. I'm bundled up in my winter coat standing with a cut out of my favorite Beatle.

All the other pictures of the evening lay in the memories of my husband and I. We truly spent the evening together in real time.

Today my family will tell you I still spend way too much time on my phone, but since that McCartney concert, I'm more aware of the times I manage to live "unplugged" from social media whether it's watching the sun go down, enjoying a cup of coffee with my daughter, or just having a quiet day at home.

When all is said and done, I want to have really lived my life, and not just posted about it.

Offensive prayers

I like to think of myself as someone who is normally pretty gentle and kind.

But recently in my life experiences and conversations with God I have been convicted to be more offensive in the way I pray. Let me explain.

A little over a year ago my family moved from a small village in the Canadian prairies to the booming metroplex area of Dallas/Fort Worth Texas. In many aspects it felt exciting to be in a place pulsing with activity -- along with every store and eatery known to man. But on a deeper level I felt like I had been plopped into the middle of oblivion. In the center of this swirl of busyness and business, I knew very few people, and I struggled to know how to connect with others in a meaningful way. Everything was huge. Our church, with all of it's campuses, had 30,000 people in attendance each week. I felt truly invisible.

I remember thinking that if it weren't for my daughter and my husband living in the same home with me, I could literally die in my house and no one would find me until my body had totally decomposed. No one would know to look for me because no one knew me.

During this time of felt obscurity, I was still praying to God every day. In some way I knew He was with me which made a big difference. He saw me alone in my house doing laundry, cleaning and watching Pioneer Woman and HGTV every day. I even believed that He had called our family to move to Texas. I just didn't know why.

I didn't stop talking to God. I told Him I was willing to do whatever He'd called me to. I asked Him to show me what I should do next. As I continued to check out small groups and Bible studies, I was perplexed as no prospective connections came from it. Everyone seemed to already have their circle of friends. I was tired, and fought a bad attitude when I had to re-introduce myself to people I'd already met several times.

One day as I returned home from my morning walk I was really battling a heaviness that told me that I'd reached my peak -- that this place of anonymity was what my life was going to be.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "God, You didn't bring me to Texas to finish out my life in obscurity! The best years of my life are NOT over!"

The spiritual atmosphere immediately shifted. I could sense God's Spirit saying -- "That's right. Keep going."

I began to realize that while I had been asking God to do battle for me in this difficult place, He instead wanted to partner with me. He was waiting for me to take up my sword and fight.

As I look back on that hissy fit I had in my kitchen, I can see how I was actually screaming out God's truth back to Him. In a really raw way I was making a declaration about His character. I was learning to wield the sword of the Spirit -- the only offensive weapon we are given by God for spiritual warfare.

I'm beginning to realize that maybe there are times I've been spinning my wheels in prayer because I've been asking for some things God has already given me. For example, I have regularly prayed,"God, please be with me." But as I grab onto His Word from Hebrews 13:5-6 I can also declare, "God I thank you that you will never leave me or forsake me. You are my helper and I will not be afraid."

The shift from a passive request to an active declaration is subtle but powerful.

Declaration is NOT a magic bullet. It does not manipulate God to give me what I want. It's also not the only way to pray. I'm simply realizing for myself it's a piece that has been lacking in my prayer life.

Today as I consider my life here in Texas, I can see places where I am making positive connections through my work and also where my niche might be in this huge cow town. Although I still have days when I ask God why we are here, on the whole my prayer life is more expectant and hopefully more offensive:)

Dance With Me

I am a recovering performaholic.

That means if I'm going to do something -- especially something in public -- I want to do it pretty perfectly. This quality served me well for making good grades in school and for being a good employee, but it has a downside as well.

I can recall multiple times in my life when I was given the opportunity to participate in an activity that I didn't do so well, like playing volleyball or trying to make it over the vaulting horse in P.E. class. Instead of just fumbling through it, I found a way to excuse myself.

Obviously one of the core ingredients of this is pride. In my adult years God has been faithful to lead me through many humbling experiences that have helped to peel layers off of this need to be flawless.

But underneath all of this performance was an even deeper layer -- the longing to be truly known and fully loved JUST AS I AM.

That's been my growing edge for my adult life -- learning how to authentically be myself and understanding how completely God loves me no matter what.

Last month I got smacked head-on with an experience that challenged me at this core level.

It happened when I danced with my husband at a wedding reception.

That may seem like no big deal, but I've never danced with my husband before.

That's probably shocking to some. I actually love to move to music. I grew up going to school dances. But at our Christian college, dancing was prohibited at the time, so my husband and I didn't dance then and never really took the chance after that -- until this reception.

The DJ asked for all the married couples to come out onto the dance floor. It was going to be incredibly obvious that we were NOT participating if we didn't go, so we did. We found a place over by the corner and tried to blend into the big bunch of couples swaying together to the music.

Then the DJ started asking couples to leave the floor who had been married 10 years or less. About half the floor left.

My heart started pounding. I could figure out this game. My husband and I have been married for 33 years, which means that we were one of the oldest relationships on this dance floor. Slowly as each decade of married people were asked to sit down, our dance circle became smaller and smaller until there were only about 7 couples left on the floor.

Suddenly we were very visible. I felt so awkward. I had bad hair, I felt fat and I hated my outfit.

We sat down soon after this, but not before one of my daughter's friends snapped our photo and texted it to her.

My daughter sent it to me. I was horrified. My awkward moment had been captured in a photo. When I got home I said to my daughter "Don't you dare post that anywhere on social media. I'm ugly."

The disappointed look on her face shocked me into reality. I had just danced with my wonderful husband for the first time in my life -- someone who knows me fully and loves me completely -- and the monumental moment was lost on me because I didn't like the way I looked. Instead of focusing on my groom, I focused on myself. God forgive me.

The last month, I've been eating humble pie. I've apologized to my daughter, my husband and God. I'm trying to learn and grow from this.

Last week when I was out for a walk by myself thinking about this experience, I felt the Holy Spirit say, "Will you dance with me?"

I started to cry. I knew this invitation wasn't because my performance had been flawless. I'd really messed up. It was an invitation to focus on the Him and let Him lead in a dance that celebrates our relationship -- one where I am fully known and completely loved.

It would have been really easy to keep this spiritual lesson to myself, but I am sharing it in case there are others who are sitting on the sidelines because they have disqualified themselves in someway. It's not about how imperfect we are. Is about how wonderful God is.

There's plenty of room on the dance floor.

Who's Watching?

So often we judge success by how many people are watching.

Television shows are taken off the air if there aren't enough viewers. University classes are cancelled if there aren't enough students to make a profit. Some celebrities demand a certain sized audience before they will consider coming to a venue. We can make judgments on how "popular" people are based on the amount of Facebook friends they have.

Several years ago I was visiting someone in a Catholic hospital in the U.S. Each time that I visited I passed by a cute little chapel that was there for the patients. Each time I passed by it was empty. I felt sad that no one was using this sacred space, and felt sorry for the priest who I imagined had to cancel Mass if no one came.

I was wrong.

Several months later I found out from a pastor friend that even when a congregation is absent, a priest, often along with an altar server, still conducts Mass. The reasoning being that a priest is never entirely alone. There's always a host of angels standing in honor of their Lord and God.

Whoa. I suddenly felt so shallow.

In my focus on earthly facts and figures, I had completely forgotten about the bigger reality of the Kingdom of Heaven.

It's a Kingdom where many times our most important actions take place when there aren't earthly throngs cheering us on. Maybe it's choosing to forgive someone who has wronged you; refusing to gossip; helping someone who could never return the the favor. Sometimes the biggest triumph is simply continuing to move forward and staying true to where God called you even when it feels you aren't making a difference.

It's in those deep private places when life stops being a performance and becomes an offering to God.

Just like the hospital priest knew, it's an offering that God and all of heaven witnesses.


Hebrews 12:1-3: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

The Beginning of the Beginning

I'm trying to find my new normal.

I've just returned home after being gone a month to be with my mom in the final weeks of her life. It's going to take me some time to process all that happened in this intense but precious time. There were things I experienced as I watched my mother's life fade away that I still don't understand but I know something important has been deposited in me. Things aren't tied up neatly in a bow, but the main emotion that I am left with is awe.

Here's what I shared about my experience at mom's memorial service.

My Mom was a strong woman.

She had a strong will and a strong faith in God. When she found out she had cancer, she had a strong desire to live and believed God for her healing. And after a complete round of chemo treatments, she did seem to beat her cancer for a time, but then it came back and this time it didn’t respond well to chemo.

During this time I tried to pray prayers of faith for her healing but it felt like they fell flat. I asked God “What are you doing?” In my mind’s eye I saw a picture of my Mom. She was a radiant bride walking down the aisle and her face shone with light. I knew in my spirit she was walking down the aisle to Jesus, the Bridegroom. This image gave me a sense that mom’s struggle with cancer would no doubt bring her closer to Jesus but I knew it also could potentially mean that this was a path that would ultimately take her to heaven with Jesus.

From that point I adjusted my prayers to pray that not one day ordained for my mom’s life would be stolen from her and that every day she would grow closer to Jesus.

I had the honor of being with Mom and observing the last steps of her earthly journey during her two and a half weeks in hospice after she suffered a stroke.

During this time I witnessed the clash of my mom’s will to live with the reality that she was in the process of dying. This showed up in what is called terminal agitation. My mom would doze for 20-30 seconds and then startle awake looking around at her strange surroundings. A hospice nurse explained agitation to me like this: We all say we look forward to seeing our loved ones in heaven, but if you knew that you were dying right now you would probably freak out.

I imagined myself having amazing conversations with mom about heaven, but that wasn’t happening. She resisted talking about heaven because she wasn’t ready to die.

That changed on December 12. Mom was in a lot of pain that day and moaned and fidgeted a lot. In the afternoon she moaned a bit and I asked if she was hurting, and she said “It’s spectacular.” I thought maybe she was a little loopy so I asked her what was spectacular. She said, “The sounds of heaven.” I was in awe and I watched her over the next hour or so writhe in pain while she also struggled to speak about the preview God was giving her of her future home in glory.

From that day on, her gaze changed. She was focused on Jesus. She didn’t speak much after that afternoon. Even though her spirit was set on Jesus, her little body fought and fidgeted on.

A good friend of my mom and dad visited one afternoon near the end of her life and read a Scripture that gave great perspective. It was 2 Corinthians 4:16 – 18.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 17 For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

As my mom’s body grew weaker each day, this Scripture helped me realize that I was witnessing my mother’s process of becoming more and more eternal until she eventually stepped into heaven on December 17.

I am forever changed by the experience.

Consensual Union

Yes is a powerful word. Especially when it's a response to God.

This Christmas season I've been contemplating the role that Mary played in the birth of Jesus. A Bible verse started my musings, but not a traditional Christmas verse. This verse goes all the way back to the beginning -- all the way back to the Garden of Eden.


The verse is Genesis 3:15 where God is cursing the serpent.

"And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; He shall bruise you on the head, and you shall bruise Him on the heel."

My mind fell on two words -- her seed.

This Scripture is obviously speaking about the future triumph of Christ over the power of Satan, the enemy. But here, Jesus is referred to as the "seed of the woman."

Fast forward to Mary, a young virgin, chosen to carry and give birth the Jesus. God could have done anything in this scenario, but when I look closely, I marvel at how God chose to usher in the birth of His son in partnership with Mary. He uses her seed -- her egg. I guess up to this time I just figured God implanted a pre-fertilized egg into Mary and -- tada! She was pregnant. But He used her seed.

That means Jesus probably looked like Mary. Her genetic makeup was combined with God's. I am in awe that God invites a mere mortal to play such an integral role in the birth of His Son.

So, maybe I've seen too many biology videos on the "miracle of birth", but I wonder in Mary's case, when did conception happen? When did she actually become pregnant?
In the videos we see the sperm that is trying to burrow through the protective lining of the egg. Finally, when a pregnancy occurs, there is an opening and the egg becomes fertilized, and life begins.

I don't think Mary's impregnation was that different. A yielding had to occur from within her. I think conception happened when Mary said "Yes" to God's plan.

"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said."

The incredible love of God! He could have forced His will upon Mary, but God doesn't rape. Life springs forth when a fully-yielded heart says yes to God.

I ponder the truth of this for my own life. Where are the places God's Spirit is wooing me? Where is He inviting me to partner with Him in something that ushers in His life and presence? This Christmas I am impacted by the power of the choice I make to God's invitation. I want to be like Mary and respond with a yielded heart. I say YES.

Like a Bridge

I was at my goodbye party at the seminary bookstore where I worked over 25 years ago. The staff were all taking turns during our morning coffee break to share their warm wishes for me.

"Julie, you've surpassed all my expectations," one of my co-workers said peering over his glasses.

I anticipated the complimentary words that were about to come.

"You are a Charismatic, a woman, a blonde . . . and yet, you are intelligent!"

Um. Thank you?

Seriously, I didn't know what to say. People were snickering in the break room at his comment, but I could tell he meant it. His words were sincere.

Somehow this man had acquired less-than-wonderful feelings for blonde, Charismatic women. Somehow I was able to challenge those notions and cause him to consider a different conclusion.

That's when I realized what it's like to be a bridge. Sometimes you may feel a bit walked on, but somehow in the awkward process you might help someone get to the other side of an issue.

I want to be a bridge. But I'm not sure I'm always a good one.

Bridges are often taken for granted. When is the last time you drove across a bridge spanning a body of water and then turned around to say, "Thank you!"?

Everyday I walk across bridges -- spiritually and culturally, that other people paid dearly to lay down. Every time I cast my vote as a woman, read my Bible in English,or worship freely in my church, I am standing firmly on ground that was once thought controversial. Brave people bridged the ground from there to here and today I walk across it without a thought.

Bridges often aren't popular. On October 31 in 1517  Martin Luther nailed 95 theses,questioning practices of the Catholic Church, to the Wittenberg Door. I'm sure this act took him off the pope's Christmas card list, but slowly, needed changes began to happen in the church which we benefit from today.

My experiences as a bridge haven't been as dramatic, yet I often find myself in that in-between place trying to close the gap between two seemingly different entities. My heart feels divided. When I'm in church, I long for it to reach the people who are disenfranchised with church. When I'm with the disenfranchised, I long for them to love the church.

One of my favourite kinds of bridges is a musical bridge. The tune of the bridge is notably different from the rest of the song, yet it provides an important transition that eventually rejoins the original melody, sometimes taking it to a higher key.

A particularly powerful musical bridge is in the song Hosanna, sung by Hillsong:

Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like You have loved me
Break my heart for what breaks Yours
Everything I am for Your Kingdom's cause
As I walk from earth into eternity

I want to be that kind of bridge. As I try to graciously extend myself in this life to those on either side of me, I want my words and actions to draw them closer to God, to one another and to bring healing -- even if they're surprised that it came from a blonde, Charismatic female:)

Christmas Intervention

I still don't have all the correct equipment to stay warm during a Saskatchewan winter. As I enter my second Christmas season here in Canada I have a closet full of adorable knitted caps and scarves--some even with matching mittens--that I toted with me on our move from the United States. But the idea of looking cute in these winter fashions has had to fly out the window in favor of a less adorable wardrobe which helps me stay warm in the frigid temperatures.

I have a pair of "driving gloves" I got for a Christmas present when I lived in Oregon a few years ago. They kept the early morning chill off my hands in Eugene, but up here in the frozen tundra, that's a different story.

Last year I discovered how useless these gloves were here in Canada when I wore them as I braved subzero temperatures walking home from choir practice. When I got back into the warmth of my house, at first I couldn't feel my hands. Then gradually they began to ache as the life crept back into them.

It hurts to thaw out.

One of my favorite Christmas carols is "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus". The invitation of the first verse is so sweet and simple.

Come, thou long expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.
Israel's strength and consolation,
hope of all the earth thou art;
dear desire of every nation,
joy of every longing heart.

This last week after I was at a service where we sang it, I felt a weight inside of me -- kind of a longing. Although it ached, I didn't want it to go away. I could feel my heart opening up to places inside where I am still waiting for Jesus in deeper ways. The warmth of God's Spirit was touching on frozen hopes and dreams within my heart.

It hurts to thaw out.

Christmastime is a season when God regularly does an intervention on me. When I finally slow down and listen to His voice I can hear Him asking me in deeper and deeper ways "Will you make room for me?"

My answer each time is "Yes!" And each time I revisit this place with God, the frozen places within my heart begin to melt and I am renewed.

How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still,
The dear Christ enters in.

Come, dear Christ. My heart invites you afresh and anew to be Lord of my life. Rearrange and remove whatever you need to make more room for your presence.

Amen.

Connoisseur of Christianity

I heard a story once from a missionary who was returning to the US after being in Mozambique for an extended time. She said the culture shock didn't fully sink in until she took a trip to the local grocery store. As she looked at the racks and racks of choices just for bread, she became paralyzed. She was unable to make a choice. Just days ago, the only bread she had was the loaf she bought several times a week from the local village woman. Now she could get it with sesame seeds, whole wheat, rye, white, enriched or all natural, etc.

We North Americans live with such abundance at our fingertips. There's so much to be thankful for, but there are trappings that come with the plentiful supply.

When something is readily available, it's becomes easy to get picky with how you like it. Coffee is a great example. Ten years ago, people would have thought it absurd to pay close to five dollars for a made-to-order cup of coffee. Today we think nothing of it.

It's entertaining to sit in a Starbucks and listen to people's orders for their drinks. One of my favorite quotes about this topic is from the movie "You've Got Mail". Tom Hanks' character is writing to Meg Ryan's character about people who order at Starbucks. He says:

"The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino."

As funny as this quote is, it contains some truth that applies to other areas of life besides coffee ordering.

We live in a region where Christians are free to worship. Churches abound. Books and CDs and DVDs are simple to access. We do not lack for spiritual food. But in this abundance, it's easy to become picky eaters. We start deciding why we don't like certain churches, or don't enjoy the company of certain Christians the same way we choose our favorite brand of cereal.

I'm not knocking discernment. We need it more and more. The core truths of Christianity should never be watered down or compromised. This is something different.

Sometimes Bible believing Christians can lose out on great fellowship because they let their personal preferences get in the way.

When I was a toddler, I was a VERY picky eater. The only thing I would consistently eat was strained banana baby food. My Mom was just thankful I was eating so she regularly gave it to me. When she took me to the doctor for my check up he was horrified because my banana diet had turned my skin yellow! He (not so nicely) told my Mom she'd better find a way to get me to eat a balanced diet for my health's sake.

I admit, as I am living in a largely Christian area, I find myself picking and choosing a little too much in the area of my spiritual food. If I'm left to my own devices, I would probably still eat a spiritual diet of lots and lots of the same thing. God help me.

I want to be a vibrant, well-rounded Christian who can appreciate the many different giftings and expressions within God's people and His kingdom.

Growing up, my family would gather together every Thanksgiving and the table was loaded down with food. My eyes were set on the dressing, my favorite. But along with this wonderful concoction there were other dishes that I did not like as much. My grandma put a tiny bit of these foods on my plate. "Try just a bite," she said. "You never know, you just might like it."

I think I'm going to take my Grandma's advice in the area of my spiritual food as well. Who knows? I might just end up finding something I really like!

God, help me not reject what other Christian brothers and sisters bring to the table. Give me your grace to receive what they have and in doing so become more well-rounded and healthy in my own spirituality. Amen.

Contemplating Greatness

What makes a person great? I've been thinking quite a bit about that lately. I have this pull in me to really have my life count for something. When I think of what that might look like, my thoughts usually come around to something visible that people would know I did or was involved with. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be linked to something great, but it's a really close cousin to wanting to be famous. Fame is fickle and we all know that not everyone who is famous is great.

There are acts of greatness that the world applauds: discovering the cure for polio, being awarded a purple heart for bravery, winning a gold medal in the Olympics.

But the more I think on this topic, I wonder if some of the biggest acts of greatness are often things that the masses cannot see -- maybe no one sees them--except God.

The person who is slandered and refuses to speak evil in return, the husband or wife who faithfully cares for a spouse whose health is failing, the long suffering parent who continues to believe for their prodigal to return, the friend who is loyal even when that loyalty is not returned -- all of these are acts of greatness.

While visible acts of greatness often bring acclaim, invisible acts don't. A person does the right thing seemingly without notice--no headlines, no praise, no award--at least not here on earth.

I read a quote last week that said something like "A person's character is best seen by how he treats another who cannot help him in return."

I want to be a person with this calibre of character. Perhaps there will be tangible things people remember me for, but more than that, I want to be someone who is willing to serve no matter what the return. I believe this makes God glad and that's the greatest thing of all!

Falling into Faith

I've been thinking a lot about faith lately.

I friend told me a story about someone she knew who is really believing for a miracle of healing. Amidst her declarations of healing, her health has continued to deteriorate to the point of almost certain death. In this situation this person will not even hear of the possibility that this might be the time God brings her to heaven. She continues to declare she is healed.

I believe in healing. I believe in standing for a miracle in faith. But I wonder, is there a point where my refusal to consider any other possibility causes the situation to turn into one where I'm hanging onto my agenda rather than to God?

I want to be strong in my faith. I don't want to be one of those people who is afraid to even believe for impossible things because he doesn't want to risk disappointment. I want to ask, I want to believe God for big things. But how am I going to behave if those things don't happen the way I prayed they would?

I love the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Nebuchadnezzar had them thrown into the fiery furnace for refusing to bow down and worship an image of gold. These men were God's cream of the crop prophetic voices in a wicked Chaldean culture. Their response to Nebuchadnezzar before they were thrown into the fire stands out to me.

"O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. BUT EVEN IF HE DOES NOT, we want you to know O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." (Daniel 3:16-18.)

These three guys had seen their share of miracles. They knew God could get them out of the furnace. But they also knew that it was God who got to ultimately decide that, and no matter what He chose, they were going to serve Him.

So I wonder if those words of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego might be what a true prayer of faith sounds like. "God I want you to heal me, I know you can. I'm believing for that. But even if you don't I'm going to worship you."

When I was in my late twenties I had an acute attack of pancreatitis. I wound up in the hospital for almost 10 weeks and had two surgeries and lots of tubes sticking out of me. They never found the cause, they simply treated the illness at hand.

During that time, I prayed, I believed, I had friends try to cast demons out of me, I worshipped, and finally at my wits end I surrendered. I came across a verse in Psalms 73:25-26,28--"Whom have I in heaven but Thee? And besides Thee I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart they may fail, But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. But as for me, the nearness of God is my good. I have made the Lord my refuge that I might tell of all his works."

In my case, once I surrendered I began to get better. But I don't think that's a given.

Surrendering isn't always a pretty process. There's some inner wrestling involved when you surrender your agenda to a sovereign God. But oddly enough, I think surrender brings freedom. I think surrender is extreme faith. It's letting go of whatever I'm holding onto and trusting God to catch me.

Gifts

This whole gift giving thing really has me uptight.

In the last two weeks I have been lavished with simple, yet thoughtful gifts from new friends and co-workers--homemade cookies and treats, flavored honeys and syrup, handmade cards. The thoughtfulness overwhelms me and then I quickly realize my hands are empty and I have nothing to give in return. I feel like a Christmas failure.

I'm not an artsy-craftsy kind of gal. I would LOSE friends if I gave away things I made! Somehow a store-bought box of chocolates feels impersonal. I don't have enough money to buy each friend a new car, so my dilemma remains. What to give? How do I show my gratitude?

Today I had a new friend over for tea. I totally enjoyed visiting and hearing her story--so much so that we went overtime and had to quickly end things so we could hurry to other responsibilities. But it got me thinking. I felt so blessed after the visit. It was a real treat--a gift. But this was a gift I knew I could give in return--friendship!

Christmas challenges me to give what I have--to give of myself. I am especially drawn to the accounts of the Christmas story in Matthew and Luke that speak about the wise men and the shepherds. We sing songs about how great the wise men's gifts were: Gold, frankencense and myrrh. They gave what they had--they were kings!

The shepherds were astounded by an angel choir telling them about Christ's birth. In return they hurried off to find this baby they had been told about. No mention is made of them bringing gifts, even though they might have. What they DID do was spread the good news far and wide. They were messengers. They gave as they told others what they had seen and heard.

One thing is for sure. No one was having a "best gift competition" at the manger. All other gifts paled in comparison when laid at the feet of the greatest Gift of all. The shepherds and wise men both had the same response--worship.

So I'm realizing anew that it's not about my gifts--it's about my focus. If the gift is the focus, my stress levels start to rise and I'm sure I won't be able to measure up. The truth is, I won't. I don't. However, if I'm giving what gifts I have in order to honor Christ's birth, I feel alive inside. I am aware that I do have something to offer--myself.

There's No Place Like Home

Well, It's mid-November, and for some miraculous reason, the THOUSANDS of snow geese in our area know that now is the time to migrate to warmer climates. At just about any time during the day you can look overhead and see the sky filled with geese getting out of town. They aren't being quiet about it either. The air is filled with their cacophony of high pitched shrieks. It's amazing and kind of eerie at the same time. How do they know where to go? How do they know when to stop? How will they know when they find home? Snow geese mate for life, so wherever they go, they go with their partner.

Home is an important place--especially when it's cold outside. It's somewhere that I know I'll be warm and safe, but it's more than that. It's where my family is. It's a place where I can hang around in my pajamas, forget about putting on makeup and no one will vote me off the island. I have a lifetime membership with this clan--warts and all.

Although the gift of immediate family is a wonderful thing, it isn't static. It grows. It shrinks. It changes. As much as I would love to hang onto the status quo for my own comfort, I cannot. In the last year I have moved away from two of my adult children who now have spouses of their own. My head knew this was a good thing, but somehow I felt a sense of homelessness within myself as I said my goodbyes and boarded a plane. I had temporarily lost my "happy place" on the inside of me and I felt lost.

As I have ruminated and adjusted to life in a new location, I've come back up to the surface with a deep appreciation for another family that I'm a part of: The family of God. The town where we moved is filled with people who love God and have shown it over and over again by the way they have embraced the smaller version of our family and helped us settle in every way possible. Even though these people aren't immediate kin, they have shown care and concern for my family's safety and wellbeing. Their love has provided a safe place to be when thing's have felt cold and unsettling on the outside.

Family is powerful. It's the vessel that God chose to usher Jesus into the world when it was very cold and dark outside. Even though Jesus is now preparing a forever-home for me in heaven, His Spirit lives inside of me here on earth and I'm never separated from His presence. No matter what changes, no matter where I go, the presence of God is always with me. That's my real home--that's my happy place.

Last Sunday was baptism Sunday in church. The whole service was dedicated to baptizing 5 people. The room was filled with family and loved ones of those about to be baptized. As one particular young man took his turn to be baptized he told how he grew up without parents and was tossed back and forth in the foster care system until he finally landed with a Christian family who kept him and introduced him to salvation in Jesus. He spoke about how the faith he has found in Jesus and the friends he has made at church and college have given him a place to belong that he never had. There was hardly a dry eye in the house. As the young man came up out of the water from baptism, the pastor lovingly wrapped a terry cloth robe around his dripping-wet body and said, "Welcome Home!"

O Canada!

About 45 years ago my Dad answered an ad in an academic publication and applied for a job as head librarian of a Christian college in Oklahoma. He got the position and the resulting move took our family several states away from relatives and friends and landed us in a new place that we knew very little about. Looking back at it now, I can appreciate what a huge risk it was for my parents to make this decision. With my 20/20 hindsight, now I can see how this move positively influenced our family's spiritual beliefs, and put me in a place where I could develop into the young woman God created me to be and eventually meet my husband. It was a launching pad for my destiny!

At the time of this move I was only 5 years old and all I knew was that we were moving away from my grandma, but we got to get a newer, bigger house. I couldn't understand at that young age that God wasn't just expanding our living space, He was expanding our lives.

I've thought of this situation several times in the last year as my own family has travelled a similar path. We recently made a huge move from the US to Canada. Two years ago I would have thought a transition like this would be insane, but God's voice and our circumstances made us more and more willing to take the leap.

So here we are, transplanted from the lush Willamette Valley of Oregon to the prairie of Saskatchewan, Canada. I would be lying if I said that the move has been easy. It has challenged every fiber of my being--but God has never left me through a minute of the process.

When my husband came to interview for his job in Saskatchewan, I was taken aback by how absolutely FLAT the terrain is. A person can go for miles and miles and miles and not meet one bend in the road. I laughed when I thought of the Bible verse that says "You have set me in a large place." As time has passed, the beauty of the prairie with it's amazing sunsets and wide open sky has begun to sink into me. I am becoming more and more aware that God has been the chief instigator of this transition.

The house number that our family is renting is 118. Initially, I thought nothing of it, except to try to commit it to memory for postal purposes. However, On our trip to move our family up to Canada, our hotel room number was also 118. I laughed at the coincidence and thought God was just having mercy on my overwhelmed mind by giving me a room number that I could remember. The next morning, however, I felt compelled to flip to Psalm 118. My eyes fell to verse 5: "From my distress I called upon the Lord; The Lord answered me and SET ME IN A LARGE PLACE!" I felt so strongly that God's Spirit was affirming to me that this large place was to be our address; the place we lived. And I rest assured from prior experience that He's not just expanding our living space--He's expanding our lives!

So as I continue to physically and mentally unpack things from this move I rest in the thought that God holds all our details in the palm of His hand. I thank God for His faithfulness to us that brought us through the path we traveled the last 2 years, and I look at the long straight road ahead of us that leads toward our future and I smile.