Monday, August 26, 2013

The Sands of Time

The sands of time are sinking, the dawn of Heaven breaks;
The summer morn I’ve sighed for—the fair, sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark hath been the midnight, but dayspring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.
--Anne R. Cousin

Age is not all decay; it is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within, that withers and bursts the husk.
--George MacDonald


The sun is bright above me and I push her stroller up the old worn hill, the hill that’s been paved over and refreshed. The hill that my child and then adolescent and then teenager and now adult feet walk over. The hill that I used to patter down so many times to get to the Dairy Mart that used to be around the block. It’s not there anymore; things have changed in the neighborhood and somehow it’s just not the same, just not as simple as it was when I was little. Kids used to play outside then, used to ride their bikes and be happy and free in the sunshine. Now they’re all inside, humped over computers, staring vacantly at television screens. Things have changed; times have changed. A generation later, I push her sleeping quietness over the hill and the wind is gentle on our cheeks and she nods her head asleep and peaceful and I sigh and remember the days gone by.

The days gone by . . . some of them filled with golden, beautiful, silver-lined memories and some of them tear-stained and broken, etched with sadness. Life is like that . . . and so fleeting, like “the grass that withers and the flowers that fade.” We can’t cling to it too tightly; it slips through our fingers like water and we understand through the agonies of life that our hope is above, where Jesus is seated, “at the right hand of the Father.”

The Fall is coming . . . change is coming, into my life and I’ve always loved the Fall, sobered by the sadness of the dying, full of the wonder of the cycle of the seasons, the mystery of death and renewal and resurrection. I love the Fall because it signifies to me that before life comes death, the dying to self, the grain of wheat falling into the ground, into the darkness.

And then Winter when all is cold and bare and still and aching-cold, dying to be made alive, reborn and all flesh seems to wait in quiet expectancy, hushed by the crushing wind and the lingering snow.

And finally, Spring . . . and joy . . . my favorite season of all when Easter seems to be in the breath of the air and the dying has ended. Flowers that cover the earth and the mournful rejoice again and the birds sing the glory of the Father.

But for now, change, and there is a beauty to it and an ache, an ache when I think of leaving this place that I have called home for 31 years.

An ache when I realize that I’m growing older, that I’m not a teenager anymore; there are wrinkles and scars and stretch marks on the skin that used to be so unmarked by age and my stomach isn’t as flat anymore no matter how hard I try. I gave up walking on my treadmill—it used to be so important to me—now another life takes all of my time and if I walk, I walk with her. And there is joy. Joy as I realize that my home is not on this earth. Joy when I think of seeing Him and knowing Him in His beauty at last. Joy in leaving the old things behind, not because they were bad, but because the path is winding differently now, up another stretch, Glory ever before. The stretch of babies now and days filled with diapers and arms filled with a wiggly body and heart filled with love.

A peace comes over me as I walk up the hill, the final stretch home, the sun setting in the distance. And I think of Frodo Baggins and his words, ““How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep...that have taken hold.” And I think, that there are places and hurts and sorrows in this life that will linger, that only heaven can heal when He wipes every tear from our eyes. And the love of Jesus will fill us utterly, unspeakably, when we see Him, and swallow up change and tears. The healing waters and the trees, planted in His beautiful garden . . . the loveliness of Jesus, the Healer of our souls.

Friday, August 23, 2013

The Blessed




From prisons dark, in caverns deep-


They gather; round the world, they creep


To meet in hidden places


Tucked in silent alleys,


Tiny homes,


And fields.


They meet to rally round the Word-


Their bread, their life


For this they dared


To come


And risk their everything


On earth-


For this, the Word of Truth.


It burns within their hearts, their souls


With grace


And boldness


Sharpened like the angel’s sword


By troubles, persecutions, torture-


Great is their reward.


They are the blessed ones-


They come-


The world cannot conceive


What they believe and why


Each one would risk their all


For this Great One-


The Son of God,


His favor rests upon their heads . . .


“Blessed are those


Who are persecuted


For righteousness’ sake”—


For they will wake


In light-


Some with a martyr’s crown-


No frown will be upon them.


And they will cry before the everlasting throne –


“How long, O Lord?”-


And He will answer-


“Just a little while; wait-


Until the hour is complete-


For now, you sit here at My side-“


The glorified


Redeemed in love,


Refined,


And blessed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




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Strangers and Pilgrims on EarthInspire Me MondayLiteracy Musing MondaysThe Modest MomWhat Joy is Mine, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, Raising Homemakers, Classical HomemakingA Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, Testimony TuesdayTell His Story, Women With Intention WednesdaysMessy Marriage,  Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Imparting Grace, Thought Provoking ThursdaySoul SurvivalGood Morning MondaysThe Weekend BrewCounting My BlessingsThe HomeAcre Hop, Mommy Moments Link UpGrace and Truth LinkupFaith Filled FridayTell It To Me TuesdaysSHINE Blog HopA Little R&R WednesdaysTGI Saturdays Blog HopRaRaLinkupWord of God SpeakBooknificent ThursdayLiving Proverbs 31Sharing His Beauty Blog LinkupCoffee For Your Heart Weekly LinkUp

The Blessed




From prisons dark, in caverns deep-

They gather; round the world, they creep

To meet in hidden places

Tucked in silent alleys,

Tiny homes,

And fields.

They meet to rally round the Word-

Their bread, their life

For this they dared

To come

And risk their everything

On earth-

For this, the Word of Truth.

It burns within their hearts, their souls

With grace

And boldness

Sharpened like the angel’s sword

By troubles, persecutions, torture-

Great is their reward.

They are the blessed ones-

They come-

The world cannot conceive

What they believe and why

Each one would risk their all

For this Great One-

The Son of God,

For this pure pleasure,

Heaven’s Treasure

Full of grace and truth.

His favor rests upon their heads . . .

“Blessed are those

Who are persecuted

For righteousness’ sake”—

For they will wake

In light-

Some with a martyr’s crown-

No frown will be upon them.

And they will cry before the everlasting throne –

“How long, O Lord?”-

and He will answer-

“Just a little while; wait-

Until the hour is complete-

For now, you sit here at My side-“

The glorified

Redeemed in love,

Refined,

And blessed.

Monday, August 19, 2013

The Fellowship of Grace

More love to Thee, O Christ, more love to Thee!

Hear Thou the prayer I make on bended knee.

This is my earnest plea: More love, O Christ, to Thee;

More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

--Elizabeth Prentiss


We sat opposite each other at Warren Beach. Littered, unromantic Warren Beach and I was bashful and I was young, and Warren Beach was the only place that we could walk to from his house. The air was cold, and I wore a funny-looking sweater. I didn’t care much (about the cold or about my sweater). I was with the boy who would later become my husband. And when you’re 19 and you’re in love (or think that you are) you don’t care much about the details. 
Except for certain ones. 

I was a Calvinist, and he was most definitely, most vocally, not one. I remember that we talked that day about whether God could be just in rendering judgement if He had already elected certain of His chosen ones. Was it fair? Was God good? Did He have to be “fair” to be good? And then the train scenario—if a train is off the tracks and headed down a cliff and God reaches out and saves one or two but not everyone . . . Well, anyway.  

We always talked, always discussed, and I was usually quiet, until I thought that something really mattered and then I TALKED. And Bill was young and Bill was headstrong and Bill would get huffy until I stayed quiet and then he would back away from the subject at long last. 

And I thought, I like Bill, but he’s not a Calvinist, and how will this ever work? Until I realized that it wasn’t Calvinism, but Christ who holds a relationship together. Not a doctrine, but a Person. Not a cold, wingless creed, but a warm, rich and real God. 

 So we married, a Calvinist and an Arminian, both sinners, both saved by grace, both utterly dependent upon the Father for our salvation. And that is ultimately what matters. And that is the reason that we could be married and we could disagree amiably, lovingly, and yes, passionately. And we could look one another in the eyes, through the love of Christ outpoured in our hearts and know that it was and is His love that binds us together, that preserves our love and that seals our souls so that no one can snatch us from the hand of our Father. 

The funny thing is, over the years, we have realized that we agree on far more than we thought we did. Often, as my sister’s college professor used to say, “It’s about semantics.” And sometimes it’s not and there are valid debates within orthodoxy and it is good and right and commendable to search the Scriptures and to dig deep into the rich mines of the Word. We may come out of those mines disagreeing with our brothers and sisters about what the Word is saying and about how Christ would have us apply it to our lives. But we must never emerge from our study of the Scriptures to become a clanging gong, a loveless, doctrine-pounding Christian who leaves a stench wherever he or she goes. 

Because that kind of response to the Word is ugly and it is cold and I may end up alienating my brothers and sisters by pouring the icy water of doctrine without love down their backs. Because it makes me feel puffed up, because it makes me feel important that I think that I know better, because I want to gain the upper hand over my brother, and, in all honesty, to think of myself more highly than I ought. 

Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another; not lagging in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing steadfastly in prayer; distributing to the needs of the saints, given to hospitality.

Romans 12:10-13

And above all things have fervent love for one another, for “love will cover a multitude of sins.”

I Peter 4:8

Love, the law of love, not a touchy-feely-anything-goes-Joel-Osteen “love,” but Christ-love, love for the brethren, love that is patient and kind and not easily angered, that isn’t puffed up, proud or rude. Love that doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. Love that persists in forgiveness, love that can act in humility when a brother disagrees with our particular interpretation of the Scriptures. Love that can reach out and pray with and for that brother. Love that can wash that brother’s feet and look him in the eyes and know that we will sit at the banquet table in Heaven together, when all mysteries will be revealed and John Calvin will bow before the Throne of grace right next to John Wesley. And Christ will be all and Christ will be worshipped and reverenced and every eye will be fixed on Him. Unfettered, undistracted by conflict, free to worship. 

Over the years, I’ve stopped calling myself a Calvinist.  I’ve stopped calling myself a Calvinist, because for me, in accordance with my own conviction, I believe that it divides the Church, divides believers, draws swords where there is no need for a sword to be drawn. Within orthodoxy, we don’t need to be at one another’s proverbial throats. There is enough heresy to fight together, enough Satanic deluge to contend with, without being distracted by whether or not our brothers and sisters in Christ are Calvinists or Arminians. 

Furthermore, through my own study of the Scriptures, I am not convinced that the Word of God can be so neatly pinned down into “isms.” There is a mystery, I have come to believe, within the context of the whole of Scripture that cannot be so easily explained and divided into five points, some of which, to my own understanding, seem to directly contradict many passages in the Scriptures.  As my sister says, “Belief  is not a work; belief is throwing yourself at the mercy seat.” And whether a person believes that someone who is “dead” in their sins can do this or not, the mystery of grace remains, and the fact that God is not pleased in the death of the wicked. (Ezekiel 18:23)

Warren Weirsbe recalls Vance Havner’s address to himself and to his fellow seminarians. “Some of you are more concerned about your dispensations than about your dispositions.” It was a phrase that stuck with Weirsbe, and it is a phrase that ought to stick with us. There is a danger in becoming too caught up with our particular “favorite” doctrines and not enraptured with the Lover of our souls Himself. I need to examine myself, examine myself often to make sure that my focus isn’t merely on what I believe, but on Whom I have believed. To make sure that the embers of love are burning bright in my heart. To know whether I am growing not merely in knowledge, but in love—love for Him and love for the brethren. 

Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. Not to the exclusion of knowledge, but to the inclusion of love. And the greatest of these is love... 

 I found this conversation between  John Wesley and the Calvinist minister Charles Simeon extremely interesting and helpful in conveying the unity that we may have through Christ with our brethren who differ with us on doctrine within orthodoxy: 

 [Simeon] Sir, I understand that you are called an Arminian; and I have been sometimes called a Calvinist; and therefore I suppose we are to draw daggers.  But before I consent to begin the combat, with your permission I will ask you a few questions.  Pray, Sir, do you feel yourself a depraved creature, so depraved that you would never have thought of turning to God, if God had not first put it into your heart?

 [Wesley] Yes, I do indeed.

 [Simeon] And do you utterly despair of recommending yourself to God by anything you can do; and look for salvation solely through the blood and righteousness of Christ?

[Wesley] Yes, solely through Christ.

[Simeon] But, Sir, supposing you were at first saved by Christ, are you not somehow or other to save yourself afterwards by your own works?

[Wesley] No, I must be saved by Christ from first to last.

 [Simeon] Allowing, then, that you were first turned by the grace of God, are you not in some way or other to keep yourself by your own power?

[Wesley] No.
[Simeon] What then, are you to be upheld every hour and every moment by God, as much as an infant in its mother’s arms?

[Wesley] Yes, altogether.

[Simeon] And is all your hope in the grace and mercy of God to preserve you unto His heavenly kingdom?

[Wesley] Yes, I have no hope but in Him.

[Simeon] Then, Sir, with your leave I will put up my dagger again; for this is all my Calvinism; this is my election my justification by faith, my final perseverance: it is in substance all that I hold, and as I hold it; and therefore, if you please, instead of searching out terms and phrases to be a ground of contention between us, we will cordially unite in those things where in we agree.

And finally, this quote, taken from an article written by Calvinist Justin Taylor on The Gospel Coalition’s website provides an excellent summary: 

By and large, Calvinists feel duty bound to attack Arminianism at every opportunity. And far too often the debate between Calvinists and Arminians has failed to glorify God, promote understanding or honor one another as fellow members of the body of Christ. It is our aim, however, to treat our Arminian brothers and sisters in Christ as we would want to be treated...

The Arminian Christian believes that Jesus Christ is God come in the flesh to save sinners and that the saving work of Christ comes to the sinner by way of the grace of God received through faith. Whatever issues relevant to salvation we disagree upon, let us agree on this: the Calvinist and the Arminian are brothers in Christ. Both belong to the household of faith. The issue of debate is not between belief and unbelief but rather which of two Christian perspectives better represents the biblical portrayal of the divine-human relationship in salvation and the contributions of both God and man in human history.

Christians may disagree with each other, and disagree profoundly over issues close to the center of the faith, yet affirm one another as fellow believers. For some on both sides, we are sure that this might seem to subtract from the seriousness of the divide between Calvinism and Arminianism. We do not seek to disvalue the issues of contention. They are real and important. . . . But neither do we want to overestimate the debate. In the division between Christianity and Islam, the Arminian is our brother...

With all of the foregoing in mind, we will seek to write under a number of self-imposed strictures that we hope will help us in addressing the issues of the contention without adding to the strife of the debate. Far too often, polemical works are not actually targeted at the other side of the debate. That is to say, they are not aimed at engaging the other side in discussion, or at seeking to persuade the other of the plausibility or truth of the author’s own position. Many of the discussions we have read—from both sides of the debate—seem to be written to those who already agree with the author. The point often seems to be one of arming one’s own troops, giving them ammunition for future firefights.

We will not follow this strategy. We write as Calvinists to Arminians, as persons who hold the Word of God precious and worthy of our most careful reflection to other believers who share that same commitment of the heart.

Bound by the law of love, we may hold our own doctrinal views and yet have deep and fervent love for our brothers and sisters who partake of Christ’s mercy with us. By grace, through faith, to the glory of the Father. 

Monday, August 12, 2013

The Battle with Books: Giving our All

“By perseverance, the snail reached the ark.” 

-Charles Spurgeon



Elisabeth Elliot’s mother said, “If one child takes all your time, six can't take any more." At this point in my life, I can’t imagine caring for six children. I feel exhausted caring for one! And I think that that is how it should be, if we are giving our all. If the Lord does bless us and entrust us with more than one child’s soul, then He will also give us the grace and the strength that we need for that time and for that place in our lives. He must, because He promises not to give us anything more than we are able to bear, if we are walking in obedience to Him and in His will. I read a book once by a woman who believed that someone couldn’t fully experience the strain and struggle of motherhood unless they had at least 3 children. I think that her mindset was at best misled and, at worst, insensitive and unfounded. If a mother is giving her all, spending herself from the deepest resources of her strength, by the grace and enabling of the Holy Spirit, then there is nothing more that she can give, or that she needs to give at that point in her life. With each new responsibility, the Lord will give her the grace and strength to fulfill His calling for her in that hour, moment by moment. And His strength will be enough for her need, His wisdom sufficient.  

I have a very active daughter. It was something that I never expected. For some reason I believed that because I spend so much time with my little one, she would be focused and attentive and make eye contact all the time and become a completely demure, sensitive little angel. She would love butterflies and bees and books from the get-go and be excited about sitting still in church. She would respond immediately when I spoke her name and look at me with reverent, loving, obedient eyes that barely strayed. 

And my daughter is sweet, but she is spunky. Everything is “funny” to her and where I was a quiet, attentive child, she is a mischievous, fun-loving scalawag who loves to laugh and to “show off.” 

First, I struggled with holding her towards me. She wanted to face out—from when she was a few months old. And while there is nothing wrong with facing her outwards sometimes, and regardless of psychological studies and theories, I felt convicted that it was better that she faced towards me, to build a connection and a love-bond from infancy. So I struggled and I purposed and made a concerted effort to face her towards me, slowly at first, little by little, brick by brick. And though she didn’t like it at first, now she is just as content and comfortable facing towards me as she was facing out. This tiny but important “battle” was won. 

My second (and more difficult) battle was a battle with books. Now, my sisters and I loved books when we were little, and still do. I remember reading on my Mother’s lap for hours when we were very young, and spending hours with her in different libraries, reading book after book after book.  She began when we were only a few months old, and instilled in us a love for reading and for listening to books being read. I thought that Debbie would take to books right away—and she did—only, not to read books, but to try to eat them—and then, to try to grab them from my hand whenever I tried to read to her. At first, this wasn’t a problem when I could lay her in a Boppy pillow on my bed and read to her each day for a lengthy amount of time. However, the more “mobile” she became, the more flustered I felt as she wouldn’t “allow” me to hold a book and read to her, unless I held it far enough away from her to not be able to grab it or gave her something else to hold. 

This should not be, I kept thinking, and felt frustrated by the situation, without really dealing with it “head-on,” hoping that she would outgrow this stage in her development. 

But as I prayed about the situation, I became convinced that I needed to deal with it right away, rather than waiting for it to “right” itself. I needed to engage my daughter, lovingly and firmly, to guide her in the discipline of sitting still while I read to her. This would be the more difficult way, but in the end, I believed, worth the momentary struggle. 

Day by day, I set aside specific times to “practice” this discipline, and at first, just as with facing towards me, Debbie didn’t like it at all. She squirmed and grabbed and whined, and I wondered if things would ever change. But I stuck to it, sitting for small amounts of time at first and then gradually lengthening them and sitting more frequently to read to her. I also sought to focus her attention when I spoke to her, to make sure that she was making eye contact with whatever object I was talking to her about. 

It was not easy. And at times I felt like maybe this wasn’t the answer—maybe her personality was one that couldn’t be molded in this direction. But then, I kept at it, and, all of a sudden, it seemed, Debbie liked to read books. Debbie would sit still to read books, for 15 minutes at a time at first, and then, up to 30, and even began to smile and really enjoy them. Her concentration and focus improved, and I am grateful to the Lord for the change that I see in her, by His grace. 

I think of athletes, disciplining their bodies so that excellence in their specific sport is achieved. I think of my old piano teacher, Al Conte, and the hours that he spent going over and over and over scales, his fingers nimble as a cricket. I think of "old-fashioned” drilling of times tables and spelling words and Latin roots (and so much of that is lost now in our schools, to our detriment, I think). Because discipline and perseverance produces character and order . . . the opposite of chaos. The opposite of my daughter not being able to sit still, the beginning of her possibly becoming a distracted, unfocused child. She is already prone towards distractedness; the Lord allowed me to realize this early so that I could bend the wood while it was still limber. It is a constant mental effort for me, but it is a battle that I cannot afford to lose for her sake and for mine, and for His sake, because He has entrusted her to me. 

I realized through this that I need to give my all—all of my energy in each moment, in every situation--all of my focus, no matter how tired, how worn out I feel. It is worth it—and my soul is actually refreshed and encouraged the more that I practice this discipline. Not perfectly (I fail all the time and then have to “get back up” again) but, by His grace, determinedly. 

Whether with one child, or with six, through His power, I must give my all. There was a missionary who prayed so often that he developed calluses on his knees—as a mother, I need to develop “calluses” on my child-raising knees, figuratively-speaking. Not to be afraid to persist in training my child/children in an area that is a seeming disaster or frustration. To the glory of God; to the good of my soul, and of my child’s, too. It will be worth it. Because when we give our all, all of ourselves, then there is nothing left of self to hide behind, to cling to, to whine through. We are ready to be used of God in the life of our child.  


DSC09218


Friday, August 9, 2013

The Little Seed--A Poem for Children





A seed is buried in the ground 

And wonders in the deep,

How long will I be kept down here

And in the soil sleep? 


The farmer pushed me down, down here

He must know what is right

So I will stay tucked in the earth

Where it is always night.


I will stay pressed in the soil

And rest here for awhile,

Until the sunlight wakes me up 

And warms me with her smile.


The rain, it will come too, you know

For that, I also need

Until the plant that’s tucked inside

Breaks from my little seed. 


And yes, yes I, will soon sprout up

To flower in the sun;

The day will wrap her arms ‘round me

The time of darkness done.

--Rebekah Neal



You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on EarthInspire Me MondayLiteracy Musing MondaysThe Modest MomWhat Joy is Mine, SDG Gathering, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, Motivate and Rejuvenate Mondays,, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every SeasonA Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, Testimony TuesdayTell His StoryA Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Women With Intention WednesdaysMessy Marriage, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Theology ThursdaysChildren Are A Blessing, Imparting Grace, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Thought Provoking ThursdayCount My Blessings, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul SurvivalGood Morning MondaysThe Weekend BrewBlessing Counters Link PartyThe HomeAcre HopMommy Moments Link UpGrace and Truth LinkupFaith Filled FridayTell It To Me TuesdaysSHINE Blog Hop, Faith and  Fellowship Blog HopMotivate and Rejuvenate Monday Link-UpA Little R&R WednesdaysTGI Saturdays Blog HopTotally Terrific TuesdayRaRaLinkupWord of God SpeakBooknificent Thursday

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Safe In Weakness

I am weak, but Thou art mighty,

Hold me with Thy powerful hand.

-William Williams



Mighty hands, grace holding me up and I am safe. Safer here than in my own strength. Safer here than when I feel able, when I feel humble, when I feel motivated, when I feel like things are going well. Safe; safe in weakness. Safe in weakness that grips the strength of the Greater and doesn’t let go.

Baby cries and I don’t have the strength to get up one more time in the middle of the night . . . eyelids heavy, I take His strength and pull my body from the bed. His strength in me . . . not I, but Christ.

Body breaking and weariness grips me. Exhausted, depleted. Christ enters in and He is my Strength, Mighty One, my Bread, my Helper, Supplier, Sustainer, water in the drought of summer, haven of rest.

Prayer won’t come and lips are heavy. I sense my lack, my lack of praise, my lack of thanksgiving, my lack of trust, my lack of desire. Lay me down, admit my struggle. Christ takes over, Spirit moves and soars within me, prays with “groans too deep for words.” (Romans 8:26) And I am whole, whole in Him. “He is able, He is willing . . .” No more doubt; fear is gone.

Heart is heavy and I don’t have an answer. Heart cries out and pleads for direction, pleads for assurance. Pleads in weakness; grace crosses over and meets my need. Hand reaches out and lifts my sinking faith; pulls me from the waves of doubt and despair.


Husband’s hours are cut at work and I am worried. Worried over paper and metal. Worried for tomorrow. My Father clothes the lilies—will He not also clothe me? Weakness reaches out and the Savior grips me; I touch His garment and I am healed of my worry; trusting in Him I am helped.

A need rises up in our home and I can’t figure out a way to meet it. I am poor; He is rich, the Father of mercy who delights to give good gifts to His children. He will provide for His own; He who owns “the cattle on a thousand hills,” (Psalm 50:10) and He will not leave His children destitute.

How many times, how many countless times did my earthly father leave and the Lord supplied our needs? Never were we destitute; never without hope. Always with our eyes gazing heavenward, always towards the Glory, towards the Father of our hearts who never leaves nor forsakes. “Open wide your mouth and I will fill it . . .” (Psalm 81:10) His faithfulness shadows over and we are covered by the wings of protection and love.

Covered, covered by His feathers, covered by His mercy. Weakness makes me realize my need; weakness opens my eyes to my inability to “fix it myself.” Weakness makes me dependent, opens my soul to His pouring in. Empties me of “me” and “poor old me” and “woe is me.” And fills. Fills with Him, fills with love, fills with trust.

Fills the emptiness, fills the lack, the dearth, the coldness with warmth of grace.

When I am weak, then I am strong . . . His grace is sufficient--- and I sing:

My Shepherd will supply my need
Jehovah is His Name;
In pastures fresh He makes me feed,
Beside the living stream.
He brings my wandering spirit back
When I forsake His ways,
And leads me, for His mercy's sake,
In paths of truth and grace.

When I walk through the shades of death,
Thy presence is my stay;
A word of Thy supporting breath
Drives all my fears away.
Thy hand, in sight of all my foes,
Doth still my table spread;
My cup with blessings overflows,
Thine oil anoints my head.

The sure provisions of my God
Attend me all my days;
O may Thy house be my abode,
And all my work be praise!
There would I find a settled rest,
While others go and come;
No more a stranger, nor a guest,
But like a child at home.
--Isaac Watts