rain down on me - part 2

The gravel farm roads are starting to resemble a riverbank. Streams of water running along its banks. Joining together in countless murky pools and puddles. Greedily snatching at sand, gravel, small pebbles and branches - carrying it along its course. Digging away at the surface. Eroding the exposed earth. 

Rain clouds are gathering. Full in expectation of its release. Bursting. The skies are dark and heavy with water. Fat drops drizzling from above. Slowly at first. Growing in its urgency. Gathering momentum, strengthening the assault... Finally, drenching the scene.

As I am walking along, taking all of this in - I think about a devotion I've read in this little book Come Away My Beloved by Frances Roberts, called "Rain". And I recall thinking that it is all about perspective. Winters and rain do not have to be a thing of hardship and suffering. It could be about blessings and abundance! About God's joy and provision.

The devotion starts with an urging to go and look "for the rain is coming" - proclaiming that the drought is over and the sound of rain is approaching. It says: "Yes, I will send showers of blessing upon the hearts of my waiting people; for before they call, I have prepared an answer, and while they are seeking Me, I shall come down upon them." 

God's Spirit is the Rain. He comes to revive and refresh. He comes to bring relief to the parched ground. To bring forth new life. To bring flowers to the desert.

Joel 2:23 NLT says: "Rejoice in the Lord your God! For the rain he sends demonstrates his faithfulness."

I haven't written here for a while. Partly because I have been really busy at work. Partly because I am at a place where I don't really know what to write anymore... Exhausted from repeated disappointments - taking everything out of me. Sucking me dry. The storm raging in my mind.

It is hard to come back from a place like that. Especially if it starts to consume your life. Overshadowing all else. As the Casting Crowns song so beautifully claims (all you can do, is to) Come to the Well.

I seem to find songs that, for some reason, I latch onto and then for a period of time, repeatedly listen to. Until I begin to hear the layers of meaning underneath the words. Until it sinks in and becomes my own. This is my current song. And it so beautifully relays the story of the Samaritan woman at the well in John, describing Jesus as the Living Water.

Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water... those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.” (John 4:10, 14 NLT)

called by name - part 2

As I was laying in bed this morning, listening to the rain pouring down - reluctant to start my day. To get up out of my warm and comfortable bed, to face the cold and wet. I considered that I haven't been very active in writing here lately. I have been going through an odd phase. Feeling that I am stagnating. Neglected, abandoned, forgotten.

The weather has not been helping. It's been a long, cold and wet winter. I haven't been able to go out walking with the dogs much - leaving them frustrated, as well as me. It is where I find my inspiration. It grounds me, gives me energy, gathers my spirit... If I do get a chance to take them for a walk though, they are so excited to be out. Dragging me along enthusiastically. The only thing I can focus on is not falling on my face on the slippery, muddy farm roads. 

I have also been reading the 24/7 Chronological Bible, which effectively means that I have been reading the old testament all year. Although I do think it is important to read, I have been struggling through Chronicles, Kings, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel... Which is overwhelmingly doom and gloom. Not easy reading. Not really lifting my spirits. I am starting to feel like the Israelites in their suffering. Punished, abandoned by God, banished from the promised land.

Recently, I have found myself - more than once - flipping through the remainder of my Bible to see when I will finally reach the new testament (as if it will somehow be sooner if I look more often). Considering that I may be backsliding into "the old testament view" of my religion. When people had to earn their salvation by the way they lived and behaved. Before Jesus came to save them from their misery.

But this morning I came upon one of the many gems in the old testament, in Ezekiel 34 (verses 11-24):

The prophet speaks about a God that will search, find and tend his sheep - Himself. A shepherd looking for his scattered flock. Rescuing them, feeding them, bringing them back home. Ending their suffering - not because they deserve it - but because He is a great and holy God (Ezekiel 36:22-24). Giving them good pastureland where they will lie down in peace, in pleasant places, feeding in lush pastures. Searching for the lost and strayed. Bandaging the injured and strengthening the weak. Giving them one shepherd to feed them and be a prince among them. Being their God.

It reminded me of this half written, almost forgotten post - that was meant to be part of called by name - part 1, but seemed to have a mind of its own, developing into a different message, with the same undercurrent. 

That we were each called by name.

called by name - part 1

Maybe it's just me, but for some reason every year as I am approaching yet another birthday, I find myself taking stock of my life. What I think I should have achieved in the year gone by. Where I should be in life. 

Comparing it to my reality. 

I suppose it is human nature to measure these things in material value. Compare yourself to others of similar age, background, education... To be honest - it can be extremely depressing. Demotivating. Disheartening.

So this year, as my birthday was drawing near towards the end of July, I found myself growing increasingly despondent. Feeling unhappy with my life. Another birthday - but still, in all appearances - in exactly the same place as the year before... And the year before...

Unfortunately for me - or maybe rather fortunately - God does not let you off the hook that easily. Sometimes He really has to make us uncomfortably aware of just how skewed we've had it.

And I have come to realize that this past year I have gained so much that can not be measured in material value. That is worth more than silver and gold (Psalm 119:72). Than money and luxury cars and expensive homes. 

During the week of my birthday I was blessed with such beautiful, inspiring scripture that spoke so directly to to me - right here in this place in my life - where I feel that I have fallen short of the world-that-we-live-in's standards. That it could only have been from a God who takes personal interest in us. In our heartaches and disappointments, our hopes and dreams. Even our feelings of insecurity and fear. 

A God who gives hope - when you feel that there is none. A God who cares enough to make you feel special on your birthday - in spite of your negative, ungrateful attitude. A God who loves you more than you would ever know.

the power of words

This post started out as something different altogether. Something a little less optimistic.

I am in a phase of my life where I often feel discouraged. Where - most of the time - life does not seem fair. Where things are not working out the way I had hoped.

When I am there - I tend to put a negative spin on things. I come up against a wall of bad news. Disappointments. Unanswered prayers. And no matter how hard I try to stay optimistic. To look on the bright side. To see some kind of silver lining or ray of light at the end of a dark tunnel... 
Some days, it is just really hard.

I find myself sinking into despair. Thoughts flashing in my mind - like a snake spitting venom. It stings. And like some trapped, scared little bird it flutters around anxiously. Agitated. Wreaking havoc. Threatening to spill out of my mouth in a string of dark words - once out, never to be taken back.

But it is then that I have to take care in what I do allow to come out of my mouth. It is during those times that we have to be really careful about what we say. 

I have been called out on it several times. I have been told to speak life. 

Only starting to realize the importance of what I say. The power of words. The damage they could cause.

As the saying goes - the pen is mightier than the sword. The same goes for the spoken word... So few people realize the consequences of what their words can do to themselves and others. Carelessly saying whatever they feel like. Whatever pops into their minds.

Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry. James 1:19 NLT

(source unknown)

let the Lord be your light

Rudely awakened from a deep sleep by our border collie, Jasper. Startled by his black and white face, illuminated by the flash of light in the bedroom - suddenly looming over my own in the darkness. He sat perched on the narrow ledge of bed, between me and the edge, almost on my face! Panting, nearly hyperventilating. Eyes bulging in fear of the lightning and thunder raging outside.

It is the second time in three days that this has happened. The older he gets, the more terrified he becomes of the storm outside.

Whispering words of reassurance, hugging him tightly to my body, in the hope of calming Him down. But the more I try to console him - apparently completely unaware of my attempts - he seems to be growing ever more frantic. Restlessly moving about the bed and over me. All hope of sleep abandoned. 

Until I manage to hold him down on his side, in my arms. Soothing. Stroking. He hesitantly gives in. Sighs and lays down his head. Calmed somewhat.

I find myself thinking that sometimes I must make God feel this way.  

He knows what is good for me. He planned my life long in advance. He knows what is coming. And what is not.
(Psalm 138:16)

But still - I struggle ahead with my own plans, frantically searching. Trying to make things fit. To calm my mind, my soul. And the more He tries to draw me close, to bring me near, to give me rest... The more I struggle and strain! Fighting for control. 

And I find the Spirit urging me to read the story about the lost sheep again. (Luke 15:3-7)

I have read it countless times. I know it by heart. But still the gentle nudge...