This is the thirteenth in a series of journal entries begun in October, 2009. Please see initial post on February 21, 2010.
November 1, 2009
John was first “introduced” to Jesus when Mary visited Elizabeth. Scripture records that “the Babe leapt for joy". Matthew tells us that when Jesus came to the Jordan to be baptized, John would have prevented him, saying “ I need to be baptized by you.” He KNEW Jesus…knew who He was….knew the story surrounding His birth…knew He was righteous.
Why then, in John, does he say, “I myself did not know Him, but for this purpose I came baptizing with water, that He might be revealed in Israel….He who sent me to baptize with water said to me ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is He who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.”
I have puzzled over that seeming contradiction for years, but I believe you are answering it here, even now, as it applies to what you are doing in my life.
John was but a man. All his life, I think, he probably thought Jesus was who his mother and father and cousin proclaimed Him to be. But, like me, John was still flesh and blood, prone to seeing “through a glass dimly”. It would take the work of the Spirit to fully reveal to him that “this is whom you know Him to be”. When John might question his own discernment, (as he would some time later) God simply told him, “I will give you a sign, the one on whom the Spirit descends and remains is He.”
It is always the Spirit who reveals Jesus. It is always the Spirit who reveals the deep things of God.
I think you have worked a work in this body, Lord, but I do not trust my own judgment. I will watch and see if you confirm this by your Spirit. And if you ask, I will boldly proclaim it. Or, if you ask... like Mary... I will store up, I will treasure, I will continue to ponder all these things in my heart until you choose to reveal your glory.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Knowing So Little
This is the twelfth in a series of journal entries begun in October, 2009. Please see initial post on February 21, 2010.
November 1, 2009
“And after this…Job lived.”
In no way to I compare what has come upon me to the immensity of what you brought upon Job, and yet, as you have directed me tonight to read his story, I see such similarity in how we view you.
Job knew all about you. His words declare who you are, the truth of what you do. Yet Job did not really know you, in all your awesome majesty. It took illness and devastation to open his eyes to you. I understand, for I am like Job, thinking I know yet knowing so little.
Oh that you would open my eyes to your majesty and omnipotence. Oh that like Job, once I have seen, once you have completed the work you alone have begun….oh that you would grant me many more days to see my children and grandchildren, that I might rejoice as they grow in their love for you.
Nevertheless, not my will but yours be done.
November 1, 2009
“And after this…Job lived.”
In no way to I compare what has come upon me to the immensity of what you brought upon Job, and yet, as you have directed me tonight to read his story, I see such similarity in how we view you.
Job knew all about you. His words declare who you are, the truth of what you do. Yet Job did not really know you, in all your awesome majesty. It took illness and devastation to open his eyes to you. I understand, for I am like Job, thinking I know yet knowing so little.
Oh that you would open my eyes to your majesty and omnipotence. Oh that like Job, once I have seen, once you have completed the work you alone have begun….oh that you would grant me many more days to see my children and grandchildren, that I might rejoice as they grow in their love for you.
Nevertheless, not my will but yours be done.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
59 Days
This is the eleventh in a series of journal entries begun in October, 2009. Please see initial post on February 21, 2010.
October 31, 2009
I feel compelled to record this O Lord. I am but flesh, prone to wanting my own desires, and yet….almost asleep this afternoon…a deep intake of breath…like breathing in your Holy Spirit…and something stirred in my soul. Did you touch and heal me Lord? I hear so imperfectly, yet hope has stirred in my heart. My trust, my only hope is in you, O God…but you know it is my cry to be healed…to show forth your glory…to declare praise unto your name.
59 days until we confirm. 59, so you place on my heart to begin reading the last 59 Psalms. Psalm 92 was today’s starting point, “It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name, O most High.”
That I will do, praising you for who you are, knowing you can and wondering if you have already performed a mighty work of healing. Verse 10 stirs my heart. You have poured over me fresh oil…the Holy Spirit…healing oil…fresh wind. Have my eyes seen the downfall of my enemy, the sickness with which Satan would afflict me?
The righteous flourish – they are planted in the house of the Lord. They shall bear fruit in old age. They are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the Lord is upright. He is my rock!
O Lord may it be so. May this be the appointed day when you have already granted me to go forth bearing fruit for many years to come.
October 31, 2009
I feel compelled to record this O Lord. I am but flesh, prone to wanting my own desires, and yet….almost asleep this afternoon…a deep intake of breath…like breathing in your Holy Spirit…and something stirred in my soul. Did you touch and heal me Lord? I hear so imperfectly, yet hope has stirred in my heart. My trust, my only hope is in you, O God…but you know it is my cry to be healed…to show forth your glory…to declare praise unto your name.
59 days until we confirm. 59, so you place on my heart to begin reading the last 59 Psalms. Psalm 92 was today’s starting point, “It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name, O most High.”
That I will do, praising you for who you are, knowing you can and wondering if you have already performed a mighty work of healing. Verse 10 stirs my heart. You have poured over me fresh oil…the Holy Spirit…healing oil…fresh wind. Have my eyes seen the downfall of my enemy, the sickness with which Satan would afflict me?
The righteous flourish – they are planted in the house of the Lord. They shall bear fruit in old age. They are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the Lord is upright. He is my rock!
O Lord may it be so. May this be the appointed day when you have already granted me to go forth bearing fruit for many years to come.
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Greatest Need
I wonder if they were disappointed at His response. They had gone to such great lengths to bring their friend to Him. Pushing through the crowd, they had scaled the walls, they had climbed to the top of the roof and with great purpose they had begun digging through the thatch, ignoring the shouts and the jeers of those who stood nearby.
They had but one aim. To bring their sick friend to Jesus that he might be healed. They knew, they had heard the stories, they had witnessed it from afar, but tonight they wanted the miracle for the one who was so dear to them. He had been sick for so long, his limbs paralyzed and useless. Most had abandoned him, but not them, not these four. They had stayed by his side and now they were bringing him to Jesus.
Such anticipation, such hope must have been theirs as they lowered the crude looking litter into the crowded room. No words were required, no request was shared, for it was plain to all that this man’s greatest need was to be healed. It had happened elsewhere, they knew. Now they wondered, would they bear witness to such a miracle here today?
Breathlessly they waited in the silence as Jesus drew near.
Then He spoke. Looking first to the four and then directly at their paralyzed friend, Jesus proclaimed with authority, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
What must they have thought? “His sins, forgiven? That was it?” They had come with such faith. “What about his withered legs, his crippled feet? Couldn’t Jesus see there was a pressing need for his body to be made whole? What good was it to forgive a man his trespasses if his body was still weak and lame? “
We know the end of the story, so it is easy to chide them. But I wonder, had I been one of the four would I have been disappointed that day if Jesus had stopped then and walked away. If “all” He did was forgive this man’s sin, would I have asked for more?
Jesus knew their hearts, just as He knows mine. He knows that so often my focus is still here, on that which I can see, and feel, what I can touch and hold near. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. He feels our infirmities as we make our way through this fallen world. He has promised that although in this life we will have great trouble, we can rejoice, for He has overcome the world.
To prove it, that day, He turned to the man whose greatest need had already been met and spoke those words which would provide the healing he had come in search of. “Rise, pick up your bed, and go home”.
“And the man rose and immediately packed up his bed and went out, before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God.” But the story did not end there. For I think if you had peered through the door of his Judean home that night, you would have seen one who could not stop walking to and fro. Maybe he was making sure the healing was real, but I suspect he was just practicing for the day when he would run and skip on the hills of heaven. No wonder!
They had but one aim. To bring their sick friend to Jesus that he might be healed. They knew, they had heard the stories, they had witnessed it from afar, but tonight they wanted the miracle for the one who was so dear to them. He had been sick for so long, his limbs paralyzed and useless. Most had abandoned him, but not them, not these four. They had stayed by his side and now they were bringing him to Jesus.
Such anticipation, such hope must have been theirs as they lowered the crude looking litter into the crowded room. No words were required, no request was shared, for it was plain to all that this man’s greatest need was to be healed. It had happened elsewhere, they knew. Now they wondered, would they bear witness to such a miracle here today?
Breathlessly they waited in the silence as Jesus drew near.
Then He spoke. Looking first to the four and then directly at their paralyzed friend, Jesus proclaimed with authority, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
What must they have thought? “His sins, forgiven? That was it?” They had come with such faith. “What about his withered legs, his crippled feet? Couldn’t Jesus see there was a pressing need for his body to be made whole? What good was it to forgive a man his trespasses if his body was still weak and lame? “
We know the end of the story, so it is easy to chide them. But I wonder, had I been one of the four would I have been disappointed that day if Jesus had stopped then and walked away. If “all” He did was forgive this man’s sin, would I have asked for more?
Jesus knew their hearts, just as He knows mine. He knows that so often my focus is still here, on that which I can see, and feel, what I can touch and hold near. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. He feels our infirmities as we make our way through this fallen world. He has promised that although in this life we will have great trouble, we can rejoice, for He has overcome the world.
To prove it, that day, He turned to the man whose greatest need had already been met and spoke those words which would provide the healing he had come in search of. “Rise, pick up your bed, and go home”.
“And the man rose and immediately packed up his bed and went out, before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God.” But the story did not end there. For I think if you had peered through the door of his Judean home that night, you would have seen one who could not stop walking to and fro. Maybe he was making sure the healing was real, but I suspect he was just practicing for the day when he would run and skip on the hills of heaven. No wonder!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Waiting for the Lord
This is the tenth in a series of journal entries begun in October, 2009. Please see initial post on February 21, 2010.
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010
Morning
I awoke with fear this morning Father…fear from a dream with no basis in fact…but it caused distress none the less. It was fragemented...a doctor, a callus comment, the thought there is more going on than meets the eye.
The fear was palpitating…until I realized there was also a song on my lips, swelling from my heart, “There is a redeemer, Jesus God’s own Son”. And I knew, even in the depths of sleep, you have given me a song in the night.
Then I open your word this morning to Psalm 130. “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits and in His word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.”
With you there is forgiveness….that I might live forever.
Evening
A great storm has passed over my soul. A storm of fear and sorrow, conjured up by my own musings. I have let my eyes drift to those around me, to receive their encouragement and words of admiration, rather than fixing my gaze firmly upon you.
The storm rages, but you call to me…sweetly and tenderly… compelling me to come, to kneel at the feet of the One who has loved me forever! I am not sure if the waves and the wind have ceased, but I know you are walking on the water, carrying me upon your shoulders. And above all, I know I am secure.
I am reminded of what James wrote, “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives generously to all without reproach and it will be given him, let him ask in faith without doubting….”
I come, Lord, I have asked for wisdom and you have given it. “Wait,” is what you have spoken. You desire obedience more than sacrifice. Such irony, I am willing to “sacrifice” my very body to the surgeon’s knife, choosing that trial to go through, yet you are calling me to obedience, to waiting, something I am finding to be much more difficult.
How you know my heart Lord, for your desire is to change me and to make me into one who will wait on you. I can see it clearly now. This is not about the outcome, but the process.
Oh that the testing of my faith (the ability to wait and do absolutely nothing!) may produce steadfastness in my life. Continue your work of completing me, Lord, I willing lay my life at your feet.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Keep Me Close
This is the ninth in a series of journal entries begun in October, 2009. Please see initial post on February 21, 2010.
October 28, 2009
“Whatareyoudoing?” Somehow when my little grandson Zach says those words, all run together, it brings a smile to my face. For he is asking, gently, out of curiosity. I am sure he has heard it often, from the lips of his mama, in a slightly different vein, “ZACH…What are you Doing??"
You have to know, Zach is an adventurous, busy little fellow who could be up to most anything. Think Curious George. Most likely, he has found himself doing something he probably shouldn’t have.
This morning I come to you as a child, Father. Like Zach, I look to you and ask, gently, “What are you doing?” Not so much that I might correct you but that I might know you are there and have a purpose for what you are doing in my life. Like Zach, I just seek to know and be comforted in the knowledge that you are near and are watching out for me.
Yet I would be remiss not to hear your voice as well Father, that probing voice which says to me, “Robyn, what are YOU doing?” For Lord, my heart is prone to wander, to lose sight of you, to find myself caught up in places I ought not go. Foyers of fear, rooms of resistance, streets of self-will all beckon me.
I know I need to stay close to you, to be where I can see your face and hear your voice. Here’s my heart Lord, I give it to you. Keep me close, hem me in, assign my portion. May I look up and see Jesus only.
October 28, 2009
“Whatareyoudoing?” Somehow when my little grandson Zach says those words, all run together, it brings a smile to my face. For he is asking, gently, out of curiosity. I am sure he has heard it often, from the lips of his mama, in a slightly different vein, “ZACH…What are you Doing??"
You have to know, Zach is an adventurous, busy little fellow who could be up to most anything. Think Curious George. Most likely, he has found himself doing something he probably shouldn’t have.
This morning I come to you as a child, Father. Like Zach, I look to you and ask, gently, “What are you doing?” Not so much that I might correct you but that I might know you are there and have a purpose for what you are doing in my life. Like Zach, I just seek to know and be comforted in the knowledge that you are near and are watching out for me.
Yet I would be remiss not to hear your voice as well Father, that probing voice which says to me, “Robyn, what are YOU doing?” For Lord, my heart is prone to wander, to lose sight of you, to find myself caught up in places I ought not go. Foyers of fear, rooms of resistance, streets of self-will all beckon me.
I know I need to stay close to you, to be where I can see your face and hear your voice. Here’s my heart Lord, I give it to you. Keep me close, hem me in, assign my portion. May I look up and see Jesus only.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Poured Out
This is the eighth in a series of journal entries begun in October, 2009. Please see initial post on February 21, 2010.
October 25, 2009
Alone yet surrounded by your presence.
Such precious time with you, Lord, by the fire, but warmed by the great love you have poured out for me. I understand Mary desiring to bless you, to touch you, to give of that which was most precious to her. I desire to do no less, O Lord, though that which is most precious is life itself. I am afraid, yet I know I can trust you. My life is secure in your hands, strong hands which were pierced for me that I might not fear.
I see so much of me still in me O God. Why oh why does it always come back to me? You are my strength, yet I boast in strength – somehow thinking I should be admired for what is not mine. Forgive me, Lord. “To God alone be the glory…to God alone be the praise!” Cleanse my heart, O God- break the hold of pride in my life.
How can I share, how can I stand strong without allowing my own heart to be puffed up in my sharing and strength? This is what you are calling me to, yet I am so acutely aware of how it draws attention to me. Forgive me, root out the pride within.
May I so see you that I cannot see me. May others see you and not me. Humble me Lord, may I be weak that you might be strong. I do not seek to be lifted up. Such struggle and turmoil in my soul, O God, I can do naught else but dwell face down at your feet.
Morning has broken.
A long night of being alone with you Lord, yet you have spoken to my heart.
You have brought peace as only you can.
October 26, 2009
Had you stepped outside early this morning you would have felt it. The wind was blowing. That in it’s self is not so unusual here in the high desert, but this morning was a rare gift, for it is mid-October yet the morning was warm and beckoning. I could not resist. Quickly I grabbed my cup of coffee and slipped outside to watch the majesty of God’s colors unfold in the rising sun, even as the breeze danced through the tops of the towering pines.
As I was touched by it’s force and embraced by it’s urgent whisper, I was reminded of how Jesus likened the Holy Spirit to the wind, blowing where it will at God’s direction. We feel His touch and hear the sound of His voice, without always realizing from whence it has come. Yet it is that same Spirit which indwells each child of God, blowing in and through us…picking up the fragrance of our heart… allowing the world around us to catch the sweet savor of God emanating from our lives.
How I have longed for that sweet fragrance to be what flows from my life. Yet I am reminded that it only comes in one way. Mary understood this. Just days prior, she had caught a glimpse of eternity, as Jesus had called forth her brother Lazarus from the grave. Life triumphed where death once ruled, but the ultimate victory would only come at a great price.
Jesus had now come to their home at the start of that final week. In just a few short days, all history would climax around the Son of God who willingly became the sacrificial Lamb of God. In adoration and love Mary brought that which was to her, most precious. Sorrow mixed with joy as she knelt at the feet of Jesus, breaking open the alabaster jar she had brought with her for this very purpose. Tenderly she anointed his feet with the oil that spilled forth from the broken vessel. In love she ministered to her Lord, the unmistakable sweet aroma of what she had given to Jesus filling the room.
How I desire that my life might put forth that same fragrance; that the wind of the Spirit might carry it to those who are in need of refreshing. How I desire it, yet how I tremble at the cost. I look for an easy way that I might avoid the breaking. I ask God to release a sweet fragrance even as I remain whole. It cannot be. It is in the breaking process that I find myself at the feet of Jesus. As I minister to Him, others are touched by the overflow of what has been given and is now given back to my Lord and Savior. There is no other way.
And so like Mary, I turn my focus to the One whose body was broken for me. I kneel before the One whose blood was spilled out that I might be saved. I see Him as the one who gave all for me and I know, I can offer no less. And through my tears, I feel the wind begin to blow…..
October 25, 2009
Alone yet surrounded by your presence.
Such precious time with you, Lord, by the fire, but warmed by the great love you have poured out for me. I understand Mary desiring to bless you, to touch you, to give of that which was most precious to her. I desire to do no less, O Lord, though that which is most precious is life itself. I am afraid, yet I know I can trust you. My life is secure in your hands, strong hands which were pierced for me that I might not fear.
I see so much of me still in me O God. Why oh why does it always come back to me? You are my strength, yet I boast in strength – somehow thinking I should be admired for what is not mine. Forgive me, Lord. “To God alone be the glory…to God alone be the praise!” Cleanse my heart, O God- break the hold of pride in my life.
How can I share, how can I stand strong without allowing my own heart to be puffed up in my sharing and strength? This is what you are calling me to, yet I am so acutely aware of how it draws attention to me. Forgive me, root out the pride within.
May I so see you that I cannot see me. May others see you and not me. Humble me Lord, may I be weak that you might be strong. I do not seek to be lifted up. Such struggle and turmoil in my soul, O God, I can do naught else but dwell face down at your feet.
Morning has broken.
A long night of being alone with you Lord, yet you have spoken to my heart.
You have brought peace as only you can.
October 26, 2009
Had you stepped outside early this morning you would have felt it. The wind was blowing. That in it’s self is not so unusual here in the high desert, but this morning was a rare gift, for it is mid-October yet the morning was warm and beckoning. I could not resist. Quickly I grabbed my cup of coffee and slipped outside to watch the majesty of God’s colors unfold in the rising sun, even as the breeze danced through the tops of the towering pines.
As I was touched by it’s force and embraced by it’s urgent whisper, I was reminded of how Jesus likened the Holy Spirit to the wind, blowing where it will at God’s direction. We feel His touch and hear the sound of His voice, without always realizing from whence it has come. Yet it is that same Spirit which indwells each child of God, blowing in and through us…picking up the fragrance of our heart… allowing the world around us to catch the sweet savor of God emanating from our lives.
How I have longed for that sweet fragrance to be what flows from my life. Yet I am reminded that it only comes in one way. Mary understood this. Just days prior, she had caught a glimpse of eternity, as Jesus had called forth her brother Lazarus from the grave. Life triumphed where death once ruled, but the ultimate victory would only come at a great price.
Jesus had now come to their home at the start of that final week. In just a few short days, all history would climax around the Son of God who willingly became the sacrificial Lamb of God. In adoration and love Mary brought that which was to her, most precious. Sorrow mixed with joy as she knelt at the feet of Jesus, breaking open the alabaster jar she had brought with her for this very purpose. Tenderly she anointed his feet with the oil that spilled forth from the broken vessel. In love she ministered to her Lord, the unmistakable sweet aroma of what she had given to Jesus filling the room.
How I desire that my life might put forth that same fragrance; that the wind of the Spirit might carry it to those who are in need of refreshing. How I desire it, yet how I tremble at the cost. I look for an easy way that I might avoid the breaking. I ask God to release a sweet fragrance even as I remain whole. It cannot be. It is in the breaking process that I find myself at the feet of Jesus. As I minister to Him, others are touched by the overflow of what has been given and is now given back to my Lord and Savior. There is no other way.
And so like Mary, I turn my focus to the One whose body was broken for me. I kneel before the One whose blood was spilled out that I might be saved. I see Him as the one who gave all for me and I know, I can offer no less. And through my tears, I feel the wind begin to blow…..
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