I stand before my God, witnessing the infinite glory of His purity and holiness, the shining beauty of His majestic being. I stand before Him breathless, awestruck by His blinding righteousness, His consuming power, His encompassing presence. My omniscient God, my ever-present Father, the Almighty Creator looks directly at me and knows.

I crumble at His feet, ashamed and disgusted. He knows my heart, every thought, vile and wicked, every action, desperate and dirty. He sees everything I’ve tried to hide, every fallen choice that has damaged, every decision that has desecrated. His eyes penetrate and the utter shame I’m faced with consumes me. My trembling hands cover my face as my head bows to the ground, desiring to disappear, to hide my humiliation. My knees buckle with the grief of my failure, the complete recognition of the darkness, the dirtiness of who I am. Fingers grasp my hair, pulling, fists slam my chest, beating, tears fall down my face, mourning. I despise the sinfulness I cannot deny, the blackness that oozes from my pores. I am nothing. I am worse than nothing as I lie broken before my Holy God.

I cower beneath the tender touch that suddenly appears from behind me, nail-scarred hands grasping my arms, pulling me into His embrace. Undeserving and unworthy, a part of me wants to resist this excruciating love. I feel the solidness of His chest as He wraps Himself around my brokenness. The warmth of His adoration comforts my shaken, frightened heart. His robes enfold me, covering my exposed sin, sheltering my stained soul, healing my scorched flesh. I feel His lips brush my cheeks, wiping the tears from my face as He whispers grace over me.

“I’ve got you.” My muscles instantly release the tension and shame. The strength of His voice permeates and banishes the darkness. “You are mine, Beloved.” His words illuminate the purity He offers me, the cleansing power of His blood infusing my soul. Comfort engulfs my spirit, soothing every fear. The demands of doubt and shame cannot form words any longer. Efforts made to pronounce my self hate are swallowed up in His beauty. Arguments lost the ability to be voiced with the Master’s gentle touch.

I kneel before my God, held up by the arms of my Savior. Looking in His glorious face, I see His knowing eyes once again. This time I take in His whole, radiant face, and am in awe of the smile beginning to spread. His wisdom shines. He knows my struggle. Oh, He sees it all, the weight of shame that collapses, the totality of grief that envelops, and the finality of His Son’s sacrifice that annihilates the darkness. Love, pierces through humanity and fills the atmosphere with healing grace.

I stand before my God, made whole by the precious blood of Jesus, by His gift of righteousness, by salvation’s grace filled plan.
I am His Beloved.
And He is mine.

Don't Stop Pursuing

9-18-11
God is calling to me today. He wants to come in to the deepest hurts. He wants to embrace the things I hide, to bring to life things that were dead. I’ve told him no all morning.

“Yes, I love you, but I don’t want this. Yes, I want you, but not in there.”
It is the hidden hurt that I wasn’t loved. It is the dead hopes that anyone could.

“I don’t know how to explore this, God. You pursue. I feel the depth of you calling me Beloved, knocking at my window, inviting me into your perfect love. But the fear of experiencing those emotions holds me back. Is this where your journey of forgiveness is traveling? I don’t want that. But you continue to call with your generous love.”

Song of Songs 1:6b My mother’s sons were angry with me
and made me take care of the vineyards; my own vineyard I had to neglect.
Others around me were angry and chose to force me to take care of them and their shame. I neglected myself. I let them convince me that my flaws were deep and that I had to accept responsibility for it all. I didn’t protect myself. I struggled picking up their burdens and carrying them on my weary back.

Song of Songs 2:2 Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the young women.
But the truth is, I am cherished above others. God speaks to me because I am His Beloved. I am chosen. I am treasured. I am loved. Shame does not belong on this heart. Jesus destroyed shame for me and poured grace over me. People in my past, who allowed their own wounds to rule their choices, who were soaked in their own ugly shame, too big to take, and who made those cruel, surviving decision… were wrong. I am a lily among thorns.

Song of Songs 2:4 Let him lead me to the banquet hall, and let his banner over me be love.
In response to His adoration, I willingly open myself to his leading, dancing under His loving eye. I spin with delight at the burdens lifted off my back. I twirl and jump with the freedom of His salvation. I feast at the table lavishly set for me. I close my eyes and breathe in the declarations He speaks. I am his and his banner over me is love.

Song of Songs 2:8-13 Listen! My beloved! Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows,
peering through the lattice. My beloved spoke and said to me, “Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.”
He is calling to me, “Arise, Come.” Winter, the time of grief, hurt, and loneliness is past. He has broken down the walls of my guarded heart. His hands have reached in a healed years of pain and heartbreak. I am alone no longer. I am burdened no more. The time of singing and joy is here. Satisfaction, nourishment, growth is waiting. Flowers of love are blooming around me, spreading fragrance so intoxicating. Warm breezes comfort me and the sunshine pours it‘s glories on my head. He is here to love me. He is calling my name. “Arise, Come.”

Song of Songs 2:14-15 My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely. Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.
“Show me your face. No more hiding. Let me embrace you. It is time that your heart feels the full beauty of being loved.”

I’m told that it will happen, that I will see God. Sitting on the grass this morning, outside of the church building where people were listening and worshipping, I did see Him. Between the thin pages of my Bible, in the Song of Songs, I heard His love.
And as much as the morning’s calling rings purely in my heart, I still reply, “I don’t want it.” I don’t even know if I am capable of finding and uncovering such death and hurt. “I hear you speaking, it is you that will reveal, it is you that quickens, it is you that heals. Give me the space, Lord. Surround me with the safety I desire when you do your work. I don’t want this, but I choose to say yes now, knowing that I will say no again and again, and asking you, trusting you to do what you will.”

Where is God?

“Do you feel God?”
“No.” She whispered quietly.
“Do you want me to tell you where He is?” My body cradled her, my hand rubbing her arm. I held my hand out in front of her and wiggled my fingers just slightly. “He’s right here.” I whispered excitedly, with childlike awe at this incredible truth. “He’s right here.” I told her, wanting her to feel the joy along with me. “Do you understand?” I asked.
She shook her head no.
“His Spirit is in me. He’s right here, in me. God sent you me.” Tears began to roll with my humility and gratefulness that God would allow me to honor and adore my child in such a way. Tears gathered and spilled over as understanding dawned for her.
“He sent you Nick. He sent you Jordan. And Merridee. He sent you me.”
She heard me. She understood.
“You know in those dark times when I couldn’t feel God," I started. "Do you know where He was?”
I held up her hand, pointing at the small, delicate fingers. “He was right here. He was in my children; you, and Nick, and Jordan.”
Oh Jesus, you were right there, with tiny smiles that filled my heart, you were in those sweet, little hands patting my arm. You were right there in their beautiful voices calling “Mommy.”
Thank you.

Where is God when you are alone? When you’re lying in the back seat of your car, crippled by the heartbreaking disappointments of being alive? When there are no hands to cover yours, no voices to speak comfort?
He is in the breeze that lifts the heaviness of air.
He is in the tear that traces down your cheek.
He is standing beside you, weeping with your pain.
He is here.
He is here.

Even When There's Pain in the Offering

Lord, what do I do? Why did I get this information? This one, unexpected phone call has created so much turmoil, anger, hurt, and fear. The reminder of manipulations, the devastation at new lies discovered, the foolishness I feel, the insecurity and safety removed once again. What did I do to be so disrespected, treated so unimportantly?

I see the churning that’s happening in me and can even understand that anything that comes along and softens the soil ultimately means growth is coming. I believe part of that growth is in the space of my relationship; the leading, the following, the dependence and open hearts towards you. I believe even the perception of my pain is part of the growth. He loves me in a healing way. You have given me this. Opportunity is here for acceptance of such healing love and I am grateful for that.

So my question now is, what do I do with this story? Do I let it go? Do I take it to the source? I believe we both heard your guidance that day in the idea that this is a journey of forgiveness. It’s what I want. The release of your pure forgiveness. A part of me wanted the right to be angry, wanted to hold on to hate, wanted the old protections those feelings afforded me. But the healing of forgiveness that you have showed me in the past, and the healing of love that you are showing me now is much more inviting.

He quotes 1 Corinthians 13, how love endures, bears, hopes, and I hear leading from him to love, I feel the leading from you to share that love. It is your grace that freely pours that love on the undeserving. I want to be a part of that flowing glory. Just a few days ago, with my world rocked by revelations I wasn’t prepared for, I felt pride lead me to thoughts of revenge and hurt lead me to anger and desires to strike back. You spoke to me through love and led me here to the beginnings of grace.

If this is an opportunity to show your beautiful spirit, your powerful love, then I am willing. I stand with your servants proclaiming, “Here am I, send me.” Use me to offer mercy. Guide me in whatever path will bring people closer to your light. Allow me to be your embrace and acceptance. Jeremiah 31:31-34 spoke to us this morning, that we belong to you, that you have made a way for all of us. Let me proclaim your message. To all of us who stand unworthy, broken, scarred by our mistakes, use me God, to honor your gift of love beyond words, to offer the truth that sets us free.

Flying Free by Crystal Beard

My daughter wrote this peice and as I first read it, I had to slow myself down to take in every syllable carefully, savor every image completely. I saw this immediately as a meditation of sorts, a piece that could take different people to different places... an offering of deep emotions and spirit.
Enjoy...

You’re running as fast as you can. The knee length, soft, cotton white dress trails behind you, as does your long brown hair. Your powerful legs sprint and fly over the ground.
Your feet barely touch the dry dirt, and though they are bare, you feel no pain from rocks or uneven earth.
Tall yellow grass stretches to your waist, and the blades rustle softly as you move through them.
Nothing can catch you, not even the wind.
The sky is impossibly blue, the grass the color of golden honey. A warm, earthy smell fills your nostrils as you move. Each breath you take fills your lungs with crisp, clean air, with sweet, fresh life.
You keep running, you don’t ever want to stop.
The scene changes.
The earth is void of grass, and you are now running on soft, dark brown soil that leaves faint footprints where your feather light feet have trod.
Tall, chocolate colored trees stretch and form a colorful archway around your path. The thick branches are full of autumn colored leaves. Sunlight filters through the branches, illuminating the scarlet, orange, and yellow leaves, looking just like stained glass.
You never tire, your body is light as a cloud, and you keep running through the warm forest. Golden light is ahead. The trees grow thick together, forming a vast wall around the soft path. Reds and golds filter onto your white dress.
A soft, cool breeze soothes your skin as you fly through the trees.
You keep running, you don’t ever want to stop.
You blink, and your feet sink into light, khaki colored sand. An endless blue horizon stands before you. The waves of the dark, deep ocean crash against rising black rocks. Grey clouds cover the vast sky, and a powerful, chilled wind whips your hair and dress around you. Your feet stop and slow, sinking in the cool, dry sand.
You breath in the salty air, but you are not tired. You stare at the water, which stretches as far as you can see. It is quiet, it is loud. You take a deep breath...
You’re running as fast as you can. Tall yellow grass stretches to your waist, and the blades rustle softly as you move through them.
You keep running, you don’t ever want to stop

Starless Moments

Romans 8:28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love the Lord, who are the called according to His purpose.

You, Lord, are tremendous.
I was retelling the story of a painful time in my family, an experience where everyone felt the gauging of falsehoods, the shredding of peace, the disappearance of joy. It was a time where lies stole our joy and where doubts crippled our ability to support and love each other. A five year journey through some of the coldest and stormiest waters we had ever trekked.

I was retelling the terrifying details, the horrific choices, while tears streamed down my face. Trying to put into words pain that is too deep to truly be expressed, I vulnerably shared my own guilt and confusion. It was a family history that none of us were proud of, that all of us wanted to hide or forget. Our children were adversely affected, even those too young to know what was happening. They felt the thickness of pain in the air that they breathed. They took in our family’s story to be integrated as part of their own.

I was retelling the impossible corners that each of us were forced into. The defenses that rose up, the guilt and regret that was swallowed and the ensuing consequences of bitterness both emotionally and physically. There were secrets revealed and devastation at each disclosure. We disappeared in different ways, drinking, working, burying, sleeping. We disappeared nonetheless.

I was retelling what I witnessed, the judgments made, condemnation passed down. I saw “Christians” attack mercilessly and “lost” souls threaten and abuse. Leaders isolated and assaulted broken people, while loved ones cowered and prayed for reconciliation. Betrayal and abandonment spread like disease, weakening faith, dissolving joy. I felt helpless and angry. I searched the faces around me, those that I depended on, those that I believed in, those that I loved, and I saw distortions of guilt, anger, fear, and resignation.

Today, as I was retelling the story, words were whispered into my ear,
“This is where you learned grace.”

How does grace fit into this picture of pain? It wasn’t in examples of love and kindness. There weren’t many moments of compassion or mercy. I witnessed anger spewing from one side of their mouths, while sermons were preached on forgiveness from the other side. Where was grace in the attacks, the accusations, the condemnations passed down?

It was in the arms of my Father.
Grace was in the beauty of his gaze, looking at each of us with love and tenderness, seeing into the deepest parts of the pain that influenced choices and weeping with compassion for our brokenness. Grace was shown to me in the realizations of where I did not want to go, who I did not want to become as I watched with childlike disbelief. I felt grace in God’s hands of protection around my heart, telling me that this wasn’t what He wanted either.

Grace was revealed to me in the middle of black nights. When I couldn’t see ahead past the excruciating weight sitting on my chest, in those starless moments when I couldn’t breathe and escape was hidden, God wrapped me up in His tight embrace and showed me grace. When grief was so large that I felt it swallowing every hope of light, when my legs refused to carry me any further down a road that seemed endless, God whispered to my spirit.

Grace was in the lesson, in the waiting, in the enduring.
When I couldn’t feel God’s presence, grace was in the allowing of experiencing the darkness so that my heart would know the true beauty of the light.
Grace was in the tender teaching of judgments I didn’t want to make, of ugliness I never wanted to be a part of.

Grace was giving room to heartache so that I could understand joy.
Grace was the destruction of one dream to allow for His new vision.
Grace was witnessing anger so that I could offer forgiveness.
Grace was experiencing loss to taste gain.

Grace is sitting here years later, bathed in tears, washed in sorrows, feeling the light of his presence finally breaking through, and knowing that He was right beside me the whole time.