He Who Paints the Skies

Hot air, heavy with moisture, weighted lungs respond without thinking.

Breathe, but don't think.

Gray scale, landscape-shaded to match the outlook. But what of the Matchless One?

What of He who paints the skies and gives heavy air chance to cry?

What of heaven that responds with peals of thunder and illuminating flashes and Creator's glory?

Eyes to see beyond the here and now, beyond the pain, beyond one soul.

Thunder-boom and shake up, begin anew. Cleanse, drop by drop.

Look up and see skies that sing (even as they cry); Clouds that dance (even as the bright sun burns deep).

Hues that seem too perfect for our brokenness swirl above and He makes the sun to set low, bow before Him.

And breathe in, knowing there is more, knowing there is love from He who paints the skies.

Sharing this with Emily and Imperfect Prose on Thursdays.

Walking

The same themes keep weaving themselves into my life. Maybe the circuitousness is a result from not fully grasping what I need to learn in order to unfurl this path that has led me through some of the darkness valleys.

Seasons. Heart. Community. Long-suffering. Stillness. Silence. Faith.

The road I have traveled this season has been interspersed with the sweetest reminders of God's care for me (even in the midst) juxtaposed with deafening silence.

I was talking to a dear friend recently who is also in a hard season. Empathy overwhelmed me as I heard her echo some of my own thoughts and feelings.

When I am so burdened, I cry out for mercy. Please. not one more thing. Then, there is that thing and the thing after.... I feel like I am drowning.

I begin to feel hopeless. Defeated. Numb.

There begins to be a disconnect between my heart knowledge and head knowledge. I know better. I know that I am not alone, but my emotions betray me.

I long for my grandparents. They were my comfort (here, anyway). In their absence I feel like I have no one to care for me. I feel alone. Abandoned.

He is silent. (my ears don't hear)

One thing she shared was this (I'm paraphrasing): As Christians, we are supposed to walk with each other through everything. We are called to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. I think most people can only handle the joy part. Well, I'm hurting.

Hmm... Yeah, weeping isn't fun. Being around weeping isn't fun either.

But, hands and feet. Remember?

In our lives we will have our share of joy and sorrow. The joy part is easy. Joy is bubbly, it's contagious. Effortless. Sorrow is dark, it's consuming. Heavy.

And here's the reminder: Right now it may be dark and twisty, but that does not alleviate my call to walk with the weeping, or make it okay for me to lessen my joyful response toward the rejoicing. Conversely, when I am giddy with joy, may I never overlook the tear-stained face.

Whether I am weeping, rejoicing or anything in between, I am called to walk. I walk and I pray and I live life out in community where we are supposed to share Christ's love with one another (and not with empty words, but with hands and feet). And for those who don't know him.

And as I walk I listen for his voice. And I ponder how to wrap flesh and blood around gospel and minister to those who hurt.

So, I ask in all seriousness: How are you? How can I be praying for you? How can I rejoice or weep with you??

The Deluge

Because today I do not have the words:

Hold My Heart by Tenth Avenue North

How long must I pray

Must I pray to You?

How long must I wait

Must I wait for You?
How long till I see Your face

See You shining through?

I'm on my knees
Begging You to notice me
I'm on my knees

Father, will You turn to me?

One tear in the driving rain

One voice in a sea of pain

Could the maker of the stars

Hear the sound of my breaking heart?

One life, that's all I am

Right now I can barely stand

If You're everything You say You are

Would You come close and hold my heart?

I've been so afraid, afraid to close my eyes

So much can slip away before I say goodbye

But if there's no other way

I'm done asking why

'Cause I'm on my knees

Begging You to notice me

I'm on my knees

Father, will You run to me?

One tear in the driving rain
One voice in a sea of pain
Could the maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breaking heart?
One life, that's all I am
Right now I can barely stand
If You're everything You say You are
Would You come close and hold my heart?

So many questions without answers

Your promises remain
I can't see but I'll take my chances

To hear you call my name

One tear in the driving rain
One voice in a sea of pain
Could the maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breaking heart
One life, that's all I am
Right now I can barely stand
If You're everything You say You are
Would You come close and hold my heart

Could You hold my heart
Hold my heart?

Harvest Moon

Yesterday was the first day of autumn. Yesterday there was a beautiful harvest moon to usher in the new season. I sat in a courtyard, solitary, still. I watched as the moon inched its way up between the tall trees that framed the picturesque view. It was lovely. Oh, how much I wanted to just stay. Autumn moon, Spirit and me. Crisp air and leaves rustling in the breeze allude to what is to come, but not yet.

It is autumn, though it does not *feel* like autumn. This is hard. You see, I can not make it feel like autumn any more than I can change the season that I am in (don't think I haven't thought about how to accomplish this on my own).

Am I overjoyed that a heat wave is approaching bringing with it very non fall-like temperatures? Umm, no. Am I thrilled with the season that I am in right now? Not really (at least not as I type this).

So, how do I reconcile the two? Trust. I trust the God who made not only the seasons of the earth, but the seasons of my life. I may not always like it, but I need to embrace this time, this season. If I curse either I am missing out on what God has for me. This season is his, just as I am his. Who am I to question this (a la Job)?

And when I do not *feel* him and all I hear is silence, I will trust. In the drought, I will cling to the Living Water. I will be obedient in the valley.

He has alluded to what is to come, but not yet. It isn't time. But, the seasons change and I am confident that my season will change too, and as it changes, so do I. And that is something to embrace. He loves me enough not to leave me the same. So tonight I ask for peace and for my heart to remain teachable.

And in this silence-sequestered faith I will seek to know and understand the Season-Maker and rest in the fact that he is not safe, but he is good.

Friends...

Today I am extremely thankful for the gift of friendship. I love my friends! I have such amazing, sweet friends. I have prayed for friends throughout my life and have also had friends enter my life because God knew I needed them before I did!

Some friends are 'lifers'. These are the few souls who have been around awhile and have walked the different terrains with us. Sometimes periods will pass without contact, but this doesn't diminish the friendship.

Some friends are in our lives for a specific season. And although life and circumstances can eventually cause a drifting apart, this doesn't mean that we do not have fond memories of those friends and think of them often. In fact, thanks to facebook, I am able to keep up with many of these people.

Some of my friends are opposites of me (which is extremely helpful). These friends tend to complement me, stretch me and hold me accountable. Everyone needs accountability.

Other friends are kindred spirits. It's easy with these sweet souls. They get you. There is a common understanding. Words aren't as important as just knowing what the other feels.

Many of my companions make up a combination of all of these. But, today, September 18, 2010, I celebrate my sweet sister and kindred spirit, Amy Smith's 31st birthday!

Amy is a true gem and such an amazing woman of God. I am blessed to call her friend. She has walked with me for many years and we have an ongoing joke that when we are little old, grey ladies, we will reminisce about all of the incredible things God has done in our lives. We will sit on a porch somewhere, drink coffee with Italian Sweet Cream and remember ('Remember when...?"). Beyond the fact that we both adore lemons, books, red wine, fall etc., we both love Jesus. And that is the best bond any friendship can have (three cords!).

Amy, I hope you feel well-loved and celebrated today! May you be able to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Happy birthday!

Love,

Jade

Laodicea

Wine of blessing, sacrificial supper's cup; poured out grace
Condemned clay- crimson, drinking in 'til overflowing
Cheeks flushed, burning hot for a season
Vessels catch and release spirit wine, impenetrable, secure source
Sowing grace

Time passes...

Clay of heat-source secure refuses new
Old hastens and beckons and bones-brittle crack clay with its vintage bags
Indian Summer gone to lukewarm autumn haze
Menacing winter lurks in the shadow, harsh cold waiting
Bleeding transgressions

A turning...

Vintage bags, heavy; lukewarm autumn, numbing
Broken bones crying for crimson flow to wash, scour
Set, heal, boil clay; kiln-bake new satchels for the journey
Mended brokenness, dancing summer, hot
Preparing harvest

Renewed rejoicing...

Sabbath Worship

Keys turning steel for the short drive

Two minutes late; quietly sit behind scattered people
Deep breath to quiet heart and breathe again
Breathe in, exhale worship

Our voices are the instruments; our hearts, the offering
Scripture-gather us closer still
Spirit-guided words brought forth
Indwelling-acknowledging, truth-affirming worship

Imperfect harmonies from broken people rise
As a sweet offering of incense-infused praise
Feet standing, heart kneeling, hands reaching to grasp
Simple, unadulterated worship

Peace passed by grace-covered sinners
flame-flicker, hot
melting, burning, refining diseased flesh
Eyes closed, candle-glowing worship

Eyes open, heart open, changing

Benediction
Bride of Christ released into the world
To worship

Giving Up

Lately everything has seemed so overwhelming that I cannot articulate the enormity of it all and the weight of which makes me feel like I am drowning. It's in these times that I am so thankful that the Spirit intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

Struggling. It is never pretty. Holding on makes me weary because I am not meant to carry this and I know this (why do we have to learn things the hard way?), but in the midst of everything it feels like if I were to let go of one thing I might unravel. Maybe that's exactly what God wants, for me to unravel so He can bind me up again.

I was a very quiet little girl. I kept most everything bottled up and that's where it stayed in the confines of my mind. I remember overhearing my grandparents talking about me one morning over coffee. I am not sure what prompted their discussion, but my grandfather said to my grandmother very matter-of- factly that "Our Jadie suffers in silence." And even at the age of nine, I knew he was right. What I didn't realize at the time was how much suffering was to come in the subsequent years of my childhood, or how this trait would become part of who I am. I perfected the weak smile accompanied with the response of 'fine.'

The tears that spill easily as of late remind me that it's OK to acknowledge I am hurting (even if I can't eloquently express why). I don't have to 'suffer in silence' or pretend, especially with God (He knows everything anyway and wants me to cast my cares unto him) and especially with those who genuinely love me (I am thankful to those whom I can share life's joys and sorrows with as we walk together as we were purposed).

So, I let go and ask Him to help me not take it back; it's too much to carry. I kneel at His feet and find solace because He knows the unspoken and the silence isn't awkward.

He is a good Father who knows what we need. Tonight, He gave me a verse from Exodus which states: The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still. How amazing is that?

These words bring me comfort because I feel like I have been fighting all these battles and they have left me wounded, defeated. It is time to give up the fight and be still. I am praying about what this will look like, but in the meantime the very thought of being still before Him brings me incomparable peace. Tonight I rest in the shadow of His mighty wings.

Tarnished Words

I have written several posts this past week. I reread my disjointed thoughts and jumbled emotions contained only by a flashing cursor -- to purge such thoughts from my mind and heart is cathartic to me; to type as I ponder and converse with God is a refuge in a world of chaos and busyness.


But these last posts weren't polished. In fact, they probably wouldn't even make sense to anyone but me. I second guess myself and my tarnished words. I deem them unworthy to post on my blog and letter by letter, line by line the words disappear until I close the page entirely.

The ironic thing is that my words will always be imperfect, because I am imperfect. So, over the last week I have sought to answer this question: Why do I keep a public blog?

Here are a few conclusions:

• It is a place I can be transparent. I am able to be real in my writing, imperfect prose and all. This is strangely freeing (the older I get, the less interested I am in donning masks to fit in).


• It helps me to sort through things - It is cathartic (and more productive than watching TV)!


• It enables me to share the things that God is showing me. Although, I do not necessarily write for an audience (I only have 9 followers and Amy is the only one who consistently comments on my blog), it is my prayer that if someone stumbles upon it, that they would be encouraged.
  

Ultimately, though, it really doesn't matter what I say. In the end it really doesn't matter at all what anyone says when held in stark contrast to people's deeds.

My grandma was always regaling me with old wives' tales and proverbial sayings when I was growing up. One that I heard quite often, besides 'Don't go out with wet hair or you'll catch a cold', was 'Actions speak louder than words'.

And I want it to be true in my life today. I want my actions to speak and point to the Father that has redeemed me, tarnished words and all.

When I wear a cross necklace it is like a banner that I am His to the lost world around me that is watching and looking to see what my actions are, and if they truly coincide with His. And I want them to. And sometimes I fail miserably. And I try again with His grace. And I give Him my imperfect offering.

And the clock is ticking and I mentally weigh what will be eaten by the rust and moths and I cringe. I pray that my heart would only be satisfied with things that have eternal ramifications. I want to do the things that He has purposed for me, and even though I repeatedly fall short, I know He is answering my prayers.

"Life is short and if you're looking for extension, you had best do well. 'Cause there's good deeds and then there's good intentions. They are as far apart as Heaven and Hell." Ben Harper

Picture of the collage "Rust and Moths" is by Richard Salley