HOME

Dear Sweet Friends,

 I have not left blogging or lost my heart for you.  On the contrary, you are always on my heart.  My scarceness in the blogging world results from overwhelming tasks and honest exhaustion.  Be assured of my thoughts, prayers, and love for you, as I reestablish my home and try to recover.  I pray Philippians 4:19 for all of you, knowing that our Father God sees you and loves you and longs to be your everything in every situation of your lives.  

Your Heart-Partner in Jesus,

Andrea 

With a deep breath, and unabashed thanksgiving, I can proclaim that we have returned to our home.  Yes, after eight months of separation from our own small piece of earth and earthly possessions, Jeff and I have crossed one major hurdle in this current race.  I never expected our extended itineration from personal property.  Yet, God in his sovereignty, knew and chose that we have that separation and return. 

And, as you know, anything God allows, anything He touches, He makes good.  For, "we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28, NKJV).  Years ago, I heard Elisabeth Elliot, with her precious voice of humility, talk about the "good" in that verse.  She said that it is not a particular state of happiness spawned by circumstances.  The good, Elisabeth said in her wise way, is that God, with omniscient, Fatherly vision, does what is for our best.  Our best is that which is for our eternal good, whatever draws us nearer to God's heart, whatever conforms us to the image of Jesus Christ. 

His desire for our good is the condition behind all our personal trials.  God views and weighs the pain, the process, and results:  physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and eternal.    

In light of God's complete vision, He ordains and allows the events of our lives, for He knows what will purge us, renew us, and conform us to the image of Jesus.  Because of God's grace and his Fatherly good, I can work through all the moments of November 8, 2009, the process of the fire, and the outcome, which is yet to be known.   

Speaking truthfully, it has been very difficult to deal with the memories of the fire:  watching my home in flames and my grandchildren scream in panic and cry with fear.  The aftermath of petroleum fumes hovering in our home and attaching to our things continues to linger, and the pain of not knowing the final results of our insurance claim, along with the sting of anger for insurance adjusters and contractors makes me lean the harder on God and His grace.  I stand in His grace and by faith alone as I try to grasp the idea of loss and what ifs, and deal with many other issues that are always attached to trauma and major life events.

Attached to everything are true feelings that are very human.  But there is a divine issue greater than my human comprehension and fleshly experiences.  To find peace in all things earthly, in all things humanly spoken, I must complete my thoughts with two words:  but God.

But, God!

 I have always loved that two-word phrase that grammatically unqualifies as a sentence, but supernaturally qualifies as victory.  But, God made, makes, and is making all things new and all things good.  And just what the good of our experience is will be fully revealed in eternity, though yet even with my darkly glassed vision (1 Corinthians 13:12), some details are already tangible.

As I write, there remains a lot of physicality to our situation.  Don't mistake me.  I am thankful, ever so thankful for all God has done and brought us through.  My thankfulness, however, doesn't change the leftovers we now face.  Much is left to sort through.  If I fix my vision on the leftovers and see only the mess of it all, I will miss the miracle of God's ability to multiply His grace and provision. 

God is the faithful One, and One particular mighty provision lies amongst the chaotic condition of our home.  It is powerful and eternal.  It is exact and undeniable.  The voice of God, with the power of all His names, speaks through current disorder and pain.  Reigning above earthly mystery of things lost, piles of  dishes, clothes, books, papers, pictures, and other residuals is the presence of my Shepherd.  He speaks peace in this confusion.  I therefore do not just see eight months of pain and more months of stress and work, I hear the mind of One most holy, who alone understands and knows me and searches my heart and is working on my will and vision.

Thus far, my Father has chosen to share a few truths that have captivated my heart.  God has faced me down with all of them.  His words are very easy to accept in my mind, but my spirit is weak and battles, though self will not win, for I am locking in on that divine voice of reason.

One truth I will share with you now.   Perhaps it is the most prolific and the sum of all God's teaching sessions. 

That mighty truth is new eternal perspective.  Whatever my eyes see or my mind conceives is being framed with words that can comfort and heal, shatter and cleanse, or shake and refocus.

A chair is a chair.  It has a purpose.  It provides a place for one to sit.  If it is a beautiful piece, then I am thankful for its aesthetic gift, but its form and presence are a very simple part of my life and have nothing to do with my joy or quality of living.  Only God can give me joy.

And I may choose to receive joy in my life through things or through God.  If I receive joy through things, my life is based on what is only earthly valuable.  That choice makes for shaky faith and contentment that is very timid.

If I choose, however, to receive joy from my walk with God, my life is based on what is heavenly valuable.  What is heavenly valuable will never depreciate.  It will remain forever.  I therefore have no fear of loss, and my faith has firm foundation. 

Eternal perspective:  seeing through eyes that look for eternal purpose in all things, in all situations, in all trials, in all relationships, in all joys, in all of life.  It is a framing of grace only God can give, and I am finding it a process, not a photostatic change.

Thank you, Father God, for your patience.  It is your longsuffering that pilots us to our knees.  It is your grace that guides us so faithfully to eternal vision, for You know without it our conformity to Your Son is limited by our fleshly dreams. 

I love you, friends! 

DAYBREAK

"We live by faith, not by sight."

2 Corinthians 5:7, NIV

Provincial:  adj.  Of or relating to a province; limited in perspective. 

The hardwoods in my home are being refinished.  My choice of stain color is called provincial.  It is a medium shade and the sample looks so right when placed by the fresh, neutral walls and white trim.  Imagining the contrast of the walls and floors and focusing on the look, feel, and smell of new is now turning impatience to anticipation.  I hope provincial and all preceding choices will bring out the best in our home.

When all the work in our home is complete, our little 1941 cottage will be quite a different kind of comfort than it was before the fire, which was last November.  You may read about it here.

What was once a quaint, crowded, space full of vintage finds will be a cheery home of light and life.  Soft colors of beige, cream, yellow, ivory, and white now grace the walls.  Happy hues are a turn from the bright gold, rose, and deep taupe we had before.  I chose light colors because my heart cried for anything that would lighten our life and lend oxygen for a new beginning. 

The shock of the sudden, involuntary transition the fire caused for Jeff and me still bears on our souls as the final, remaining reparations come to a close and we look toward returning home.  In the midst of it all, we are and have been in awe of God's faithful handiwork and peaceful presence.  God is amazing in his detailed weaving of our life threads.  What began seven months ago as shock is growing into surrender.  Seven months of struggle becomes weary.  Seven months of stress-survival tells truth.  Seven months of waiting sizes up a lifetime of seeing.  Seven months of seized self moves once thought needs to the only desired compartment of the soul. 

In biblical terms, scholars often say that seven is God's number of completion.  "By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work" (Genesis 2:2, NIV).  "And the words of the LORD are flawless, like silver refined in a furnace of clay, purified seven times" (Psalm 12:6, NIV).  Seven, in God's terms, can represent perfection.  The complete work of Adonai, God, who is flawless authority.

By any measure, as a Christian, I am not flawless.  If I told you I felt like refined silver, I would be lying.  In truth, I will not be perfected until my journey on this fallen sod we share is over.  I can rest in that fact, however, knowing God will continue his work of grace in every place he leads.  He has planned this earthly journey for me, and he owns its map and my provision.

During this short, seven-month season of my journey, God has provided moments of solitude.  Time is a gift.  And time alone, when tied in small sprigs, is like delicate baby's breath.  Fragile, elegant, and gracious.

These small sprigs of solitude were only the outer wrapping of God's gift.  The real blessedness of this seven-month season has been an awareness of God's presence and his peace that passes understanding. 

As we draw closer to closure of shock and aftershocks, God's mark on this unstable season becomes clearer and clearer.  His holy hand has left its imprint on the whole landscape.  And seeing his seal in the picture reminds me of my limited and God's unlimited.  The two are incomparable.  I, Andrea, very human, frail, full of questions, and short on vision versus God Almighty, omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient, complete in love and vision, infallible Savior.

Yet, I wrestle. . .

trying to find answers, to grasp rest, to see light on a dark path, to know how, to explain pain, to envision the finished work of grace and bear the rebuilding of our lives.

My own struggling has caused me to search the book of Genesis with wonder about Jacob and how he felt as he sent his family and all his possessions across the Jabbok River, while he stayed the night alone in darkness and wrestled with God until daybreak.   

"So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.  When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob's hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man" (Genesis 32: 24-25).

Jacob, the man who always took the initiative, who always made a way for himself, who always felt strong, who always created solutions, was, in his lonely, empty place of struggle, made helpless by God.  God dislocated Jacob's hip joint, which was the very strength of Jacob's ability to wrestle.  Jacob was then forced to face his human futility.  As he limped away, however, he was not dismayed.  Why?  He was blessed and had a new name for his new life that awaited him when he returned to his homeland.  Jacob had been  touched by God.  Eternally challenged and eternally changed. 

"Then the man said, 'Let me go, for it is daybreak.'  But Jacob replied, 'I will not let you go unless you bless me.'  The man asked him, 'What is your name?'  'Jacob,' he answered.  Then the man said, 'Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome' (Genesis 32:26-28, NIV).    

"You have struggled with God and with men and have overcome."

"You have struggled" and you "have overcome."

"Yes!" God says to all who wrestle til daybreak for blessing, "You have overcome." 

Struggling means I am human.  Wrestling means I intend to conquer.  Wrestling til daybreak means fighting for a forever-changed moment.  It is holding on for a dawn of hope.  It is hanging in there for an appearance of light, and it is denying fatigue and accepting brokenness.  Wrestling til soft light is seen at a distant space means I have, in that night, overcome self.  Overcoming self means Jesus reigns greater in me now than he did in a time past.

I have a very long path of daybreaks behind me, and a very long path of perfecting processes ahead of me.   I will leave these seven months changed and a little more surrendered.  I hope to leave the provincial vision of my pre-fire life and reach to embrace new vision as we return to our home.

As future testing seasons approach, I, hopefully, will not see them with dim, limited, provincial vision.  I pray to see them with God's unlimited vision.  Yes, my eyes can see what he visions when I submit absolutely to God's creative voice and will.

I am merely human and within my own power, so limited.   We, who all originated from dusty earth, who depend on God Almighty to hold our world together, who trust his word for the air we breathe, can share the vision of our Creator!  Through Christ, we can have faith-vision, and faith-vision is what overcomes the world.   "For whatever is born of God overcomes the world; and this is the victory that has overcome the world - our faith" (1John 5:4, NASB). 

Friend, we may have no answers.  No details.  No professional title.  No human help.  Little worldly stuff.  

But, . . .  we can have the eyes of Jesus. 

His seeing is not provincial.  His perspective is complete.  His focus is flawless.  His eyes are pure. 

Just lean back in his arms and rest your weary head and allow Christ's victory to strengthen you and be your strength.  You will soon find faith vision, and all sight will be new.

Praying you this day,

On River's Bank

Swimming in cool, rushing waters, . . .

I move gracefully toward a goal, feeling the freedom of flowing currents, knowing power over depth.  My arms move effortlessly, without fatigue or pain.  My legs are straight behind me giving me strength.  My head stays above the flood; my eyes focus on destiny.

Such describes my dreams of rivers. 

Yet, much irony lies in those dreams.  In my real life, I cannot swim and have a deep respect for bodies of water.  I do not like water in my eyes or ears.  And two near-drowning incidents have left their marks on my mind.

Still, I love rivers.  Particularly those mountain streams that move with life and air and sky and wind.

I easily remember special places where such rivers live.  There is an old country store with a grist mill in the North Georgia mountains, and behind that store is a wooden walkway where one can watch the turning of the wheel and trout swim in the currents.  The rushing waters cascade with perfect harmony.  Their music echos in my soul.  It is a God-created tonic.  I have stood there several times drinking its peace.  

Yet, greater still is drinking in the peace of another river.  It is that "river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells" (Psalm 46:4, NIV).  It is a river I do not fear, even in my real life.  It is a river more pure than any other river.  It is a real river of relief.  It is a river that thunders with praise of divine power.  It is a river for tasting, drinking, wading, and plunging, and for walking of its banks.

It is my river.  And, it is your river.  

To be honest with you, friends, I need a drink from that river.  I need to stand on its bank and wade into its effervescence.  To be affected by its persuasive authority.  To be guided into its healing falls. 

For, all channels that rill from its presence make glad the sacred places of my life.  All streams from its Source make glad the scarred places in my heart. 

"Glad" in original Hebrew means to rejoice or cheer up. 

So, placing my own heart-spin on Psalm 46:4, I perceive that river as the Holy Spirit and paraphrase the following: 

When my heart is in need, when my life feels broken, when I reach my endpoint, I can fall on my face and seek my Creator of rivers.  He will send His Holy Spirit to fill my emptiness and heal my hurts.  His sacred presence will change my mourning into dancing, my pain to praise, my endpoint to a new point.  

The past several months have been a tiring swim.  I am slightly stretched.  I miss my home and my familiar surroundings.  Our church is suffering need.  Physically, my health is daily challenging.  And, other needs unspoken now, press and weigh.  Yet, like David,  "I am still confident of this:  I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living" (Psalm 27:13, NIV). 

In the New King James Version, that scripture reads, "I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living."  And verse 14 ends the psalm with some of the most encouraging words in scripture:  "Wait on the LORD; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say, on the LORD!"

Sometimes we have to wait to wade, to venture out into and drink His living water.  We sit on the bank so thirsty and fatigued, yet so hopeful because of faith's vision.  

Turning to the Word in those dry, dessertlike seasons is our refuge.  Because. . .  

We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you (2 Corinthians 4:7-12). 

My suffering does not compare to Paul's or so many others; yet, it is working my death and His life in me.  I guess what I'm saying, dear friend, is that His grace is enough.  And, though sometimes it seems all we have, we stand unshaken because it really is all we need.  And, I believe.  No, I know future glory will reveal that truth in all of us. 

Unyielding, I vision His water!  Unshaken, I proclaim that God is in control!  Unmoved, I stand by grace!   

On His River's Bank,  

 

A Feast of Light

"Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn!"

John Milton, Paradise LostStillness and solitude settled in our quaint cottage. A quiet somber mood created perfection for reading, relaxing, reflecting. Sorely needed self-time was set. I looked forward to a few rare, valuable moments. I was going to read by the fire and bask in its soft glow as I waited for friends to arrive.

It was a late fall evening. Crisp and cool. Just right. I had made vanilla coffee and sprinkled in a touch of cinnamon. Arranged white china cups and saucers, all lined with silver and brushed with delicate blooms of green, on the counter. Placed vanilla scented candles in the kitchen. Warmed the guest bath with french soap, sweet towels, and lavender mist .

Then tired by the preparing, I looked at the little toile wing chair by my fireplace. It indeed beckoned. "Get a book and rest with me a while. You have a half hour before the doorbell rings."

I quickly found my nearest read. To sit, clear my mind, rest, and relish inspiring words would be tonic.

Two minutes later darkness fell. Suddenly. Lights went out. All shut down. And quiet and solitude turned to a little knot within, as I grasped through pitch to find candles, remembering my only phone was dead.

God had planned a different way for me. Knowing my steps were ordered by him, I made do. Lit wicks, set candles about, pulled lace panels back to let a vague glow from a near street light stream into my living room, and waited.

One hour later lights were on. Friends arrived. Coffee made. Again. Candles still shining upon the mantle and scattered throughout my living and dining rooms, soft lamps glowing, and a chandelier burning created light within light. It was a feast of light. And the radiance of all spoke comfort. It was as if darkness never happened.

I have never liked darkness. I love no light when sleeping, but so welcome early morning sun pouring through bedroom windows and soft lamps that cast sweet glows through our little rooms in evening hours.

Light is a gift. The first earthly creation of our heavenly Father. "Let there be light." God called, commanded to darkness, and formed day. Illumination came to earth. A channel for realization. Clear vision. For the purpose of seeing. For the purpose of revealing. That He is good. That He alone can give light. Is light.

The Apostle John spoke of this seeing. ". . . the life was the light of men," he said, speaking of Jesus, Who was "phos," the Greek word John used to tell that Jesus was God's divine light. God in the flesh. God's rays. Real illumination.

Jesus, this divine light, told us Himself that He is the light of the world. He met a blind man one Sabbath day. A man whose only hope was begging for mercy and money from people who passed his way.

Christ's disciples just had to know. "Why is this man blind? What did he do that was so bad God struck him with darkness? Or, did the man's parents do something to cause it? What happened?" *

Do you hear 21st century voices in the disciples' questions? Begging to know? Longing to be let in on the secret? Denying restrained curiosity? Trying to shake out the truth.? The story behind the story? Isn't that just like us? We want details. To understand. Perceive. Know.

Jesus knew sincerity. They wanted to understand, and He understood. He answered. ". . . this happened that the work of God might be displayed in his life. . . . While I am in the world, I am the light of the world."

Jesus then began to heal the blind man. Christ spit on the ground. Made mud for man. Again. Put it on his eyes. Told him to go. To wash.

And the blind man did. He went. He washed. Returned. Healed. Saw. Believed.

When they were informed of the healing, quite a controversy erupted among the Jews. Their Pharisaical hearts could not bear such light. Jesus could not be from God because he healed on the Sabbath! Voices raged! Words flew! The healed man was cast out of the synagogue.

He then turned, and followed the Light. The Light of the World. The Son of Man who left heavenly dominion to bring judgment to earth, so that the blind would see and those who see would be blind.

The healed one's spiritual journey began.

Seeing Jesus also begins our spiritual journey. To behold Christ's glory. To hold His beauty in our hearts. To follow His light. To believe, pisteuo, as the Greek says, to entrust our lives to Him and commit to His name.

How can we see Him? How can we know Him? Right here, right now?

Listen. . .
Jesus ascended a high hill. Sat among so many, all were hungry to hear. Thirsty to know. Craved real. Had to have Truth.

Christ spoke. Taught. The truth. Jesus told the only way. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God."

And the original Greek meanings of these few holy words tell much. Promise great.

Pure is to be sanctified by fire; cleansed, like a vine pruned and fit to bear fruit.
Heart means of will or character; the seat of thoughts, desires, purposes, endeavors.
See is to gaze at something remarkable with wide-opened eyes; to know by experience.
The word "see" in Greek seems to work at many levels. It seems to speak to layers of vision. It speaks of our earthly walk with God. What we can have right here and now! And it tells of our possibilities for depth in the Christian life. Lovingly, Jesus left us with a map for seeing.

Process. . .
Through God's refining fire, His painful, but needful pruning process, everything about us, our hopes, dreams, plans, thoughts, desires, personalities, all are affected. We are changed. Like the blind man, we are healed. Transformed. Delivered. Visioned.

When allowing Jesus full reign in us, He uses any process He wants, even if it means we don't like it, don't understand it, and think it's painful, makes no sense, and is a bad choice.

We hear His words. We obey His voice. We go. We're cleansed. And filled. And healed. Changed. Forever.

Our hearts are pure. We are never the same! And we see God!

We return from our obedience, our washing, seeing Jesus. Able to behold Who He Is. The Son of the Living God.

We are transformed. The old ways mean nothing anymore.

We no longer crave the usual! We must have Jesus! We must follow the Light!

And this beautiful process God works in us time and again, changing us from "glory to glory" through His Spirit.

Layer upon layer. Design upon design. He moves. Works. Renews. Transforms.

Our vision grows clearer and clearer. We see Jesus more and more. Our faith grows stronger and stronger. Our love for Christ grows deeper and deeper.

Like an account of high-paying interest that multiples funds, like a small tree that once planted grows great, so is our faith in Christ! It grows and accumulates heavenly treasure and earthly fruit.

We feast upon His light. Know vision by His radiance. Perceive reality through His love . Our eyes behold manifest glory.

We see Jesus! And we are never the same again, again, and again!

Scripture is from St. John chapter 9; Matthew 5:8; 2 Corinthians 3:18.

Greek resources are from e-sword.

*My paraphrase.

My Dear, Dear Sweet Friends,

I so apologize for my recent lack of posting and commenting. Our lives have been a bit overrun lately with things beyond our control.

My husband will have a heart catherization Tuesday morning. His mother will join us today, and will be able to spend a week with us. She is a wonderful Christian and a sweet, loving woman! It will be a great blessing to have her near. We are hoping and praying for a good report, and I appreciate your thoughts and prayers very much.

God has been and is so good to us. Jesus never fails! I thank Him for His saving grace and strength.

I want to say a prayer for you this Lord's Day. You are all so special to me, and how I appreciate your faith, love, and support. Have a blessed Sunday and joy-filled week!

Dear Jesus, I thank you for each one of my blogging friends. You know their hearts, their needs, their hopes, their dreams. You see all. You care for all. Oh, Lord, You Who formed us know us best!

I pray for encouragement. I ask You, dear Father, to keep them all. To give them physical strength and joy in their hearts.

God, You cannot fail us. You said You would never leave us or forsake us. You are here. Right now. May we all sense and know your presence and peace that passes all understanding.

May we look to You. May we seek You. May our eyes be opened and You give us greater and greater vision to see Jesus.

In Christ's Name, Amen.