This morning as we left the house for school, I was determined to make it in record time.  Due to the recent flooding in our area, our morning commute had increased dramatically.  I’ve had the Waze app on my phone for some time now, but have only been using it for trips into downtown Houston, (because attempting to drive into that without help is downright scary).

When I typed in the address of the school, Waze reassured me it could lead us there in 35 minutes.  (The day before, it took us an hour and a half).  The kids and I laughed.

“Do you think it will work, Mom?”

“If this works, it will be a miracle from Jesus.”, I said.

So off we went.

If you’ve ever used Waze, you soon learn that it requires an incredible amount of trust.  It will send you in the opposite direction, down dark alley ways, through someone’s backyard, and then ask you at the drop of a hat to turn around and retrace your tracks.  But any user of the app will tell you, “you’ve got to just trust the wisdom of Waze”.

See, the app keeps track of traffic, accidents, inoperable lights…all of it.  Plus, it knows how fast you and other Waze users are moving.  So, in an instant, it knows when changes occur.  Immediately, it calculates when changing your route all together is time-efficient. And sometimes, it sends you in the opposite direction to have you arrive at your final destination faster.

This morning, Waze led us through small winding streets, on the Hwy headed south (when ultimately we wanted to go north), and zig-zagging neighborhoods I didn’t even know existed.

As we turned off one little street onto the next, we suddenly saw it: yard after yard filled with rolled up carpet, dismantled wood flooring, piles of sheetrock, and couches stacked upon one another.  Kids were waiting in their front yards for the school bus next to piles of destroyed belongings.

It took us by surprise.

The car fell silent.

All the air was sucked into our lungs by our gasps.

Eventually, someone broke the quiet.

“I wish we could do something.”

Suddenly, our commuting challenges of the past few days didn’t matter.  The unacknowledged rains of last night (the ones we slept through), now seemed cruel and  senseless.

“Kids, if it hadn’t been for Waze, I wouldn’t have even known this was back here.”

“Maybe Jesus is in Waze, Mom.”

Maybe.  I don’t think He is literally living in the phone app.  However, I think Jesus absolutely used Waze this morning to guide us down a path of humility, compassion, and gratitude…the ways of Jesus.

As we continued to follow the directions offered by my phone, we saw house after house, family after family in need.  We discussed plans to come back after school, maybe toting pizzas, or cleaning supplies, or just prayers and consolation.  The kids were no longer arguing about who ate the last breakfast bar or debating whose fault it was that we left 10 minutes late that morning.  Our hearts had been shifted.  Our perspective had been flipped.  My words came back to me: “If this works, it will be a miracle from Jesus.”

Jesus, in all His ways, miraculously turns our selfish hearts outwards towards others.Tweet: Jesus, in all His ways, miraculously turns our selfish hearts outwards towards others. #WAZEofJesus  The Holy Spirit guides us down paths previously unseen.Tweet: The Holy Spirit guides us down paths previously unseen. #WAZEofJesus

But if we don’t trust Him, in all His seemingly awkward and backwards-pointing directions, we just might miss the opportunity for a dramatic change of heart.  We might miss the hurting and the broken.  We might miss a whole world of opportunity to serve as the Church.

When we don’t trust His promptings, we find ourselves taking our route back into our own tight-gripped hands, only to be frustratingly locked in a spiritual stand still.Tweet: We find ourselves taking our route into our own tight-gripped hands,only to be frustratingly locked in spiritual stand still #theWAZEofJesus

Think of Noah.  Think of Jonah.  Think of Lot.  Think of Jesus!  “Go towards the cross…”, even when Jesus asked the Father for a different way.

Lately, I’ve been feeling the prompting of the Holy Spirit to act in specific ways–to head in a specific direction.  But I’ve been putting action off, straight-up ignoring His voice, and allowing myself to be distracted by the selfish conveniences of life.  Today’s little adventure to school not only filled our car with compassion, launching us into a plan for service, but it also helped fix my eyes on Jesus…His voice, His direction, and His ways.

(And we got to school in 35 minutes.)

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths” (Psalm 25:4).Tweet:

 

The rain here in Houston just keeps coming.  Yesterday, school was cancelled as sections of major highways were submerged in water.  My children spent the morning wanting to watch the news.  They were enthralled by the extreme nature and power of the water, the drama of high-water rescues caught on tape, the tragedy of cars being swept away in the floods, and the science of meteorological forecasts.  Our hearts ache for those in Wimberley, San Marcos, and Houston.  Those who have lost much in the wake of such abundant rainfall.

This morning, a sideways downpour met us as we raced to the car for school.  It’s ironic that yesterday when multiple school districts were closed, we had dry patches of back porch.  This morning, as we drove to school, we were pelted by torrential rains.

How odd is the abundance of a good thing.  Rain becomes flood.  Hydration becomes destruction.  Sugar turns to fat.  Wine becomes alcoholism.  Appetite shifts to gluttony.  Money fuels greed.  Job provision develops into family neglect.  Ministry births idolatry.

How odd also when the abundance of a good thing has been present, yet the back porch seems dry.  There have been entire seasons when others around me are drowning in the same blessings being poured out on me, yet all I see is dry bones.  Perception can be quite the deception.  Have you ever been so blind to a plethora of grace-filled showers that you actually pray for the rain to go away?  We, who are so small compared to the vastness of the universe and the Being who by a single word bore all we know and see…we who think we know, but have no clue.  We think we can define blessing and curse, based on the wisdom drawn from the state of our comforts or the lack thereof.  What if that which was brutally irritating provided a path to the deepest peace?  What if that which depleted earthly provision sanctified and produced the fullest satisfaction?

I’ve written before of God’s abundant grace and how we never arrive at a place where we render it useless.  It is free, unending, and always available, whether we seek it out or not.  We are covered by its huge umbrella of acceptance, that knows no distinction and can’t be held by our good works.  This I know.  However, as I mentioned above, there is so much that I do not know, understand, or comprehend.  If there is one thing that I will never have enough of, it’s God’s perspective.  It is the one thing that won’t turn in on itself:  Godly wisdom.  For to see the world and our circumstances through God’s eyes requires humility, compassion, justice, and a servant heart.  Idolatry defies God’s perspective.  He detests the worship of anything other than Himself.

I want this: His perspective.  With it, there is nothing to fear, nothing to solve, nothing that can steal my joy or His throne.  How do I find it?  Unlike grace, Scripture tells me that wisdom requires a bit of my action:

“Blessed is the one who finds wisdom, and the one who gets understanding” (Proverbs 3:13).

“The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom, and whatever you get, get insight” (Proverbs 4:7).

The Hebrew word “qə·nêh” is used in these verses for “get”.  The same word is used when Scripture talks about buying or acquiring land.  It is a word of action, involving sacrifice or payment.  Do I really want to “get” wisdom?  What if it costs something of sacrifice?  What if it’s price is uncomfortable?

Proverbs 9:10 also explains that, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.”  Maybe today the price to be paid is accepting the fact that I am small, finite, and foolish compared to the size, longevity, and wisdom of God.  Maybe today, I simply stand in awe of Him, this world He created, the power of the raging water before me.  In recognizing my smallness and His largeness, I will begin to “get” some wisdom with the sacrifice of my pride.

I want to shout, “rain, rain, go away…”.  Yet, I will watch in awe, and submit that I don’t know the condition and needs of my own back porch.  And I will let Jesus and His compassion overtake me as I see the needs of others unfold.

I continue to pray for those who are meeting disaster and destruction head on.  Please pray with me.  If you are able to financially help or donate goods, please visit ADRN (Austin Disaster Relief Network) which is gathering funds to help those in Wimberley and San Marcos, not only with their physical needs, but spiritual and emotional as well.

Last week, I was in full “let’s-try-to-be-a-super-mom” mode.  You’d think, by now, I would know it just ain’t possible.  But, yet, I try.  Along the way, (usually when I start to feel I am way in over my head with paint projects, Pinterest craftiness, or sewing catastrophes) I realize just how far I’ve gone into unrealistic super-hero status.  I start down a quaint and inviting path of creativity that eventually leads me into a jungle full of prowling lions of self-criticism, mocking monkeys of comparison, and howling hyenas of stress.

When will I learn?

My most recent illusion of grandeur began with a trip to the WWII Commemorative Air Show with my three boys.  (Yes, you added right, the hubs counted as a boy that day.)  Gideon was in awe of the planes and propellers, and of course, all the big guns.  So, when the soon-to-be birthday boy, who for the last two years has celebrated with an Easter Bunny Pirate Party (don’t ask), requested to have planes instead, I jumped at the fresh idea.  However, when I asked more details about his desires, I soon realized I was already further into the jungle than I thought.  Not only did he want to have a WWII plane themed party, but he also wanted the Easter Bunny Pirate character to return, including Easter egg bombs and a Pirate treasure hunt adventure.  Mercy.

So I took plenty pictures of the B-17 Flying Fortress from multiple angles, mentally planning how the metal beast could be replicated with edible sweets.

Over.  My.  Head.  

I took note of the bombers and where they sat and envisioned white chocolate pirate bunnies taking their positions with their chocolate guns.

Entering. The. Jungle.  

I started perusing Pinterest for ideas.

Welcome. Jungle. Predators.

Why do I do this?  Why do I submit myself to these crazy ideas and plans?

For a few reasons: 1) I like the challenge.  I am by nature a person who likes to express herself creatively.  It is how God made me.  And as a stay-at-home mother of four, whose responsibilities outside the home have changed since our relocation, I rarely have the opportunity to fully unleash my creative juices.  2)  I love my kids.  My heart overflowed when I witnessed my little boy struck with awe as the gust of wind from old plane propellors swept the hat off his head.  If I can create a birthday celebration that generates even half of that excitement, it’s worth it.  3) Pride.  See, here’s the nasty thing about being halfway good at anything:  we somehow in the back of our hearts think we can earn favor or worth by being awesome at something.  Because somewhere in the process of doing the task or making the speech or singing the song, we give ourselves credit for the abilities we have to accomplish whatever it is.

Have we worked hard?  Probably.  Have we studied?  Likely.  Have we practiced?  Yep.

I can’t speak for everybody, but here’s where I think I go wrong:  I start to assume that the beginning inklings of talent or skill that were planted in me by God are even my own doing.  Proverbs 16:18 says, “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”  (Maybe this is why the night before the party, the airplane cracked in half down the middle and crushed the cake beneath.) However, Psalm 139:13 corrects me: “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.”  He is the source of any good found within me.

Just like my fondant covered B-17 would be nothing without that one initial flake of Rice Krispie’s Cereal with which it started, so is anything good that I can produce without the Father’s design: NOTHING.  It is a challenge, however, to maintain that solid footing in a slippery and treacherous jungle of pride.  We somehow become disillusioned with our size and strength, feeling either invincible under the shade of the thick green canopy, or fearful of becoming prey for the larger and fiercer wildlife.  We forget who we are. The truth is we are small, yet equipped.  We lack control over our destiny, yet are empowered.  We are not our own, yet heirs to an entire Kingdom.

When I focus on who I can become with all my hard work and fine-tuning, I forget who I already am.  When I strive to grow my talents for my own accolades and affirmations, I actually diminish in maturity.  Ephesians 4:15 says, “Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.”  Rather than aiming for personal praise, we are to grow up in EVERY way into him who is the head: JESUS.  Whatever we do, it should be done to grow closer to Him.  This doesn’t mean I stop challenging my creativity with icing and modeling chocolate.  However, it does mean that when I find myself seeking the praise of others because of it, then I should stop.  If I am discouraged because my efforts or talents aren’t appreciated, then I need to glory in the joy the process brought me, and give thanks that Jesus gave me the desire for and enjoyment in such a task.  To consider that He loves me enough to give me joy in such things…that draws me to Him!

Yeah…I’m not very good at that thinking either.  But like all areas in which we seek to better ourselves, He is the source and genesis for all of our development, growth, and maturity.  A more fervent trust in Him, greater satisfaction in His favor, and authentic humility in our hearts all start with a little flake of Holy Spirit planted in our inmost being.  Like a mustard seed, it can be small, but He nourishes it and cultivates it into a great tree of beauty.

I’ve got more lofty projects underway, especially this week.  And as I enter a time of intense focus, my prayer is this:

Jesus, may I end this week where I started in the womb, owing all my value, worth, and purpose to you.  May I always be established in You.  “For [Your] invisible attributes, namely, [Your] eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. [Including me.] So [I am] without excuse.  For although [I have known] God, [I] did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but [I} became futile in [my} thinking, and [my] foolish heart [was] darkened. Claiming to be wise, [I] became [a] fool. (Romans 1:20-22)”  Please forgive me and help me to walk forward in newness of life, recalling who I am because of You… only You.  Produce good fruit in me that brings glory to Your namesake.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

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The rain dances off the shingled roof while shouts of laughter and giggles of delight bounce back and forth.  I sit in the coziness of my kitchen with my smoked berry and incense candle setting the mood.  What a calm Columbus Day home from school.  With the showers and dark clouds comes the dawning of Fall.  (Or at least I hope cooler weather is on the horizon.)

Autumn is my favorite season, with all it’s tastes and scents.  Whether it’s walking into the grocery store and smelling the cinnamon pine cones, or sitting in a Starbucks with a spiced pumpkin latte, once October hits, the aroma and palette of fall is hard to escape.

This morning I thought, I really should write a blog post today.  We are coming off a full and long weekend and though I should write, all I want to do today is sit with my coffee in front of the panes of glass and watch my children soak up the drops of joy falling from the sky…that, or take a nap.  I had to run a quick trip to the store earlier this morning for some basics as I was praying, “What do I even write about today? I got nothin’, Lord.”  Then I realized I completely drove past HEB, as if headed to school on a non-holiday Monday.  I was already sitting at the next stop light.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit I’ve done this before.  I’ve been deep in thought, distracted by squabbling kids in the back seat, or simply so exhausted that I miss my turn, pass my exit, or even drive past my own house, especially if it is a non-routine stop.  I hope some of you can identify with this…

As I sat at the red left-turn-only light, waiting to make my u-turn back to the store, I prayed again, “What do I even write about today?  I’m too tired to think, too tired to process, too tired to listen.”

Yep, there it is.  A clear word from the Lord.  Here we go:

How many times have I been too tired, too fatigued, too apathetic to listen to God?  (More times than I can count or realize, I suppose.) Our pace of American life lulls us into such monotony of routine that we drive right past the urgings of God.  When His Spirit speaks something that is outside the set boundaries of our schedules or beyond the lists of to-dos, we can sleep-walk ourselves past doors of opportunity.

Wake UP!  God is telling us, “WAKE UP!”  I have let my new-found awareness and ear (albeit still being fine-tuned) go…to…sleep.  Are you awake??

I know what it is to be so exhausted that eyelids succumb to the laws of gravity, even in the midst of conversation. I get it. I know it. I am in that very state right now. But I am called to WAKE UP! I either need to make the necessary changes to not be so dang tired or I have to get over the sleepiness and force myself to be aware in the midst of fatigue. Perhaps the solution requires a little of both.

There are values in our culture that oppose rest, that break the 4th commandment.  It’s admirable to work overtime.  We boast of our busyness.  Think about that for a minute.  Our sins are all equal in the sight of God.  Every sin, whether “big” or “small” (as deemed by our society) leads to death.  So are we willing to take murder with the same degree of self-righteous excuse as we do working on the Sabbath?  What if we murdered for the sake of an extra days worth of salary?   What if we murdered for the sake of ministry? Yeah, I went there…  How unsettling if we boasted of our killing?  If we boasted for killing innocent people for the “sake of the Gospel?”

Our disregard for the Sabbath, using the excuse of “ministry” as justification, is no less a sin than the genocide of populations during the crusades.

Jesus healed on the Sabbath, yes.  But Jesus also withdrew from the crowds and rested.  We have to rest.  We have to take rest seriously.  We have to regard the commandment to honor the Sabbath with the same conviction as we do the other 9 on the list.  What good is a half-eyed “christian” zombie who is too tired to hear the Spirit?  It sure doesn’t make the truth of “Jesus in me” very convincing to others, when I am too tired to listen to Him and to bear His fruits of joy, peace, and patience.  Why would anyone want what I have?  It looks and feels miserable.

Jesus, forgive me for not taking rest seriously.  Forgive me for not taking care of the body you have given me.  Forgive me for letting my lack of rest inhibit me from following You.  Forgive me for selfishly pursuing works instead of pursuing You.  Forgive me for misrepresenting the new life and joy you offer in the presence of others who have yet to taste it.

Jesus, thank you for covering me in grace and giving me new life regardless of my performance.  I am made new, daily.

Adequate rest is only half of my issue.  When I am fatigued (and it’s bound to happen regardless of good Sabbath habits, because I’m only human), I am still called to wake up.  In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus asked his disciples to stay alert and pray…and they couldn’t keep their eyelids peeled.  Twice He pleaded for their attention and twice they fell victim to slumber.   “And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And he said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour?  Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:40-41).  The Spirit is right there, willing to reveal to me all manner of amazing gifts and revelations, but my flesh has been entirely weak.

Jesus pleads for our attention.  He desires our alertness to His words, to His Spirit.  If we are walking through life on auto-pilot, we miss His very voice and all that He has to offer us.  He sings songs over us.  He speaks truth to us.  He reminds us of our beauty, our inheritance, our value, and our worth.  These are reminders I need daily.  I’m so ashamed that I don’t pay attention to these messages that I desperately need.  I can’t believe that I own lies of value and worth that are contrary to what He says about me, yet His sweet words are ever-present for me.  The Spirit’s fragrance and taste is all around me, just like Fall and it’s hard to escape.  Yet, I have found a way to bypass it all.

Jesus, forgive me for falling asleep to Your voice.  Forgive me for coasting through the day to day, unaware of the destinations to which I’ve been blind and the reminders of your truth.

I receive the clean slate you give me and honed-in ears to start afresh.

2 Timothy 2:13 says, “if we are faithless, he remains faithful— for he cannot deny himself.”  For that, I am truly thankful.  My list may not be totally completed at today’s end, but at least I heard Him say, “I will be faithful to you.”

Today I am tired, but not alone.  My list of to-dos fills an entire 8 1/2 x 11 page of lined notebook paper.  About half-way down the list is: write blog post.  Listening to God doesn’t mean I’m irresponsible with my daily duties.  When I listen to Him, He walks alongside me and makes the stuff happen, infusing each task with His fragrance of joy and lightness of heart.  It’s the cinnamon and cardamon added to the everyday cup of joe.  The ordinary becomes enraptured with His presence.  With Him living in me, I can be tired, joyful, productive, and attentive all at the same time.

I have tried in the few hours of sitting in front of the screen to listen to God, even through my fatigue, even through trying to complete my writing task, and even with the other 15 things on my list looming in the back of my mind.  This morning, I went on a journey to write a blog post.  But I listened and stopped along the way, guided to pitstops and destinations that were not in my plan.  Here’s what happened:

– I watched the rain fall.

– I closed my eyes and opened my ears to the sounds of my children’s laughter.

– I laughed over the top of the laptop as I witnessed four kids battle one dog to a bath–in the rain.

– I embraced muddy feet.

– I happily scratched off the list…

give the dog a bath

– I stopped typing to take pictures of siblings hugging in the open grass midst a thunderstorm. photo – I savored my creamer-enhanced coffee as I sat waiting for the electricity to come back on.

-I stopped typing again to tickle a half-naked, wet, and muddy toddler boy.

-I pondered my rest and lack thereof…then prayed for forgiveness.

-I meditated on grace.

-I paused to fill a bathtub with soapy warm foam for cold little bodies.

-I tossed soggy clothes into the washing machine, counting the blessings of modern technology.

– I marked off…

do a load of laundry

– I wrapped little boys in fluffy dry towels and kissed their tender noses.

– I happily elongated the chase of a naked bathroom escapee, and marveled at his laughter, picking up random toys on the floor along the way.

– I grabbed the pencil…

bathe kids

pick up clutter

-I returned to the keyboard and gave thanks for fresh ears and propped-open eyes.

– I heated hotdogs for lunch and threw some ingredients into the crockpot.

– I drew a line through:

start dinner

– I snuggled my baby close, singing a lullaby, then laid him sleepy-eyed into his crib for an afternoon respite.

– I sat for a final session at the computer and listened.  I recounted all that Jesus had for my tired soul in one short morning…

write blog-post

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“I’m learning a lot about God from my kids.”  I think every Jesus-following parent says it at least once.  It is true.  Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18: 3-4).

This morning when darkness still loomed over the house, I rose to my oldest daughter already awake.  She had set her alarm for 5 AM so as to not miss the much anticipated lunar eclipse.  It was supposed to be first visible at 5:25 AM, but in an effort to not miss any of it, she was awake nearly a half hour early.  The rest of the family wasn’t that interested in the phenomenon, so she planned her rising all on her own.  She could hardly sleep last night, so it was not a surprise to me that she was already awake when my alarm went off at 6.  The time she chose to wake up did not startle me. What did shock me was the place she chose to watch.

I assumed that she would venture out on the front driveway or walkway and peer into the moon-lit sky.  I figured she’d take it in for a minute, get tired, and head back to bed.  But, no, my child knew better than me…

She pulled a chair and pillow from the living room over to the front door.  She made herself comfortable and sat, marveling at the moon through the glass insets.  Any reasonable adult would say that chair was an annoyance and was placed in a dangerous spot, in the line of doorway traffic.  But it was the perfect venue to focus on something almost magical, something that my mature brain can’t wrap my mind around.  The sun, which we can’t see at night-time is yet right behind us–behind her in that chair.  Its strong rays of sunlight reflecting over our heads on the surface of the moon millions of miles away.  The earth, on which we stand, on which she sat in that chair, mysteriously floating in the space in between.  The orbits of the moon and the earth in such synchronization and alinement that before her very eyes, the shadow of earth, orb on which she sat in that chair, appeared before her over the face of the moon–it’s light slowly burning red.  What an amazing event that is so much grander and substantial than a walkway ridden with chair.

As we went on with our day and I returned home from morning errands, I saw the chair unmoved from the wee hours of dawn.  The sunlight, now cascading through the windows bore such sweet light on that seat, on that place of tiny miracle.

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My daughter has taught me something today.  I have learned, and have been told over and over again, that I need to sit and marvel at God.  Others may be annoyed with me.  Others may think I am in the way.  My resolve to sit and take in Jesus as I see Him throughout the day may irritate those who think it odd and silly.  Some might deep down feel the sting of resentment that I have gone to such measures to encounter God.  But I long to be like the carefree and uninhibited children.  I no longer want to be an adult with to-do lists, logical answers, and cynicism.  Jesus, teach me, like you taught the disciples, to humble myself, turn, and become like the child.

I have for far too long walked with the shadow of reason and logic hiding my heart from the everyday glory of Jesus.  How can I follow His Spirit, if I shield my eyes from seeing Him?  How can I soak in His words and ponder His parables if I block my ears from hearing Him?  How can I sense His presence and act on His urgings if I cover-up my feelings with puffed up arrogance and pride?  I, and most “Christians”, have been walking around in a “total eclipse of the heart” religion.  We have covered ourselves with our performance and success, rather than being “hidden in Christ”  (Col. 3:3), reflecting His glory, not our own.

Last night, my eleven-year-old delighted in asking questions of astronomy and selenology, of the heavens and their movement, just in anticipation for what she hoped to see.  She didn’t presume to have all the answers.  Her eyes doubled in fascination with the size and wonder of it all, even before witnessing.  Are we adults even asking questions anymore?  Do we think we have it all figured out?  The mysteries of Jesus are beyond any human mind.  His wisdom and knowledge deep.  We will never exhaust all that He has for us.  How boring and mundane to be the one who has forgotten this simple truth!  What a dull and joyless, responsibility-driven, task-filled adult life!  We need not live this way.  He wants us to have life to the fullest, to marvel at His love and His Spirit, to wait in eager anticipation for just a glimpse of Him.

The chair will remain in it’s new home today.  I want to be reminded to seek out all of the wonder and joy Jesus has for me.  Even amidst my daily work, I will pass by and catch a glimpse of the Spirit’s reminder to me.  He loves me so well to know that I need reminders and nudges.  He understands my failing heart and fleeting zeal because undoubtedly, I will trip over it at some point.    Thank you, Jesus, for telling me again.

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