"Ears" Are For Listening



"His hearing's fine.  All the tests are normal."  Our perplexity must have quickly shown on our faces.  The wise pediatrician looked at Jeff and me and replied before we questioned.  "Your son has selective hearing.  He's choosing what he wants to hear and doesn't want to hear." 

Yes.  We understood the kind doctor's words.  Our five year old son, Chris, had discovered an escape from unwanted words.  "Pick up your toys."  "Brush your teeth."  "Look at us."  Our imperative clauses were being ignored, not really unheard.

The visit to the doctor was revealing and healing.  Five year old Christopher understood he had been effective in the short term, but unwise in the long term.  A loving, short talk after leaving the pediatrician's office resolved the problem.  Our future imperatives were no longer ignored.  Chris chose to listen.

How's my hearing, Lord?

A still, small voice echoed through my soul in morning's soft light before I even pushed away warm, fuzzy blankets.  My momentary listening was soon smothered by daily demands.  The to-do's were not minimal:

Read the word with focus. 
Prepare my house for the market.
Do the church bulletin.
Fold yesterday's laundry.
Continue my 7th Year journey.
Study my Sunday school lesson.
Balance the checkbook.
Pay bills.
Care for my granddaughters.
Schedule doctors appointments.
And so on.

My lists are always written in black on the back of an index card.  Plain paper is very persuasive when its marks provide plans and structure for life.  These marks are good thoughts.  Words of needful things.

Needful:  what is essential, required, vital, imperative. 

We all have needful things.  Our conscious is too often overcrowded with what must be done.  Our Father, knowing our needs, equips us with wisdom, time, and gifts to fulfill all life asks of us.  Tasks that cry to us, body and soul.  Ideas that beg the lifting of hands, moving of feet, and investment of heart.

Yes, tasks cry. 

Their sounds are loud.  Boisterous.  RESOUNDING!

Beneath their boasts, lies the faint of still.  It is smothered, yet lives, and begs for listening.

How's my hearing, Lord? 

Teach me how to hear Your word though I am crowded with din of self and noise of life.  Teach me to savor Your whispers.  Teach me to select Your words, and to stop and embrace them, to hold them closely, write them down, meditate on them, and allow You to engrave their truth into my heart.

How's my listening, Lord?

Father, I ask for ears to hear beyond my temporal noise, for listening that will carry my soul into Your presence, and my own words to "Yes."
Grace, Friends,






A special thanks to Alicia Britt Chole, my friend and mentor, whose tireless work in The 7th Year is inspiring me to learn to hear.

"And the LORD came and called as before, 'Samuel! Samuel!'  And Samuel replied, 'Speak, your servant is listening.'”

1 Samuel 3:9-11

BREATHE ON PURPOSE

This season lingers with whispers of His grace.

The massive tree ten steps from my picture window has now shed most of its leaves. The tree top is green and gold. The lower part is sparse with golden, withering growth, and as I watch the wind gently blow through the oak's branches, the golds, piece by piece, fall gracefully eastward. The new fallen leaves then waltz in the cool, November air, looking to nest on our ground. They seem to seek for rest from their shady work, while they wait to be cured and carried away.

I love to watch their descent. I love to walk in the dead leaves and enjoy their crunchy texture and think of the hope they give. 

Hope?

Yes. My falling and fallen leaves speak of a forward glance. They make me think of Thanksgiving, Christmas, a new year, and even a spring to come. The death of an old season gives me pause, as I anticipate celebration with family and build expectation of new life in a season to be born.

Yes. Fall gives me pause, an intermission, a tarrying, a choice time of lingering, a restful breath, a temporal stay from past activity.

Author Eudora Welty spoke of a pause as a slowing down, "like a merry-go-round after a ride." I can relate to her metaphor. As a child, I loved a merry-go-round, and if given a chance, I would still love to step onto the huge turntable and pick my seat, hoping for a carriage, where I could sit and enjoy riding and watching.

I would hate for the ride to end, but the slowing down before its stop would pull my heart and head into balanced reality.

Balanced reality. Restful waitings. Temporary stays. Intentional breathings.

When placed together, those four phrases sound very enticing.  In imagination their ideas resonate with desire.  In reality, they are met with resistant pleas.

They are, nonetheless, part of our Father's pattern for Christian existence. 

God's word is full of intentional breathings.  Thank of Jacob's fourteen year wait for Rachel; Joseph's three year wait in prison; Jonah's three-day stay within the fish's belly; Jesus' three-day wait on Resurrection power; the disciples 120-day wait in the Upper Room, and our Father's sovereign choice to rest one day after His six days of creating the world.

Jesus spoke about the need for restful waits. His words to His disciples when they were weary from ministry anchor my soul. Listen to His authoritative, compassionate plea, as Jesus speaks of the need for pause:

"Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest" (Mark 6:31, ESV).

Receive those words for your life. Not only were they spoken for Jesus' disciples over two thousand years ago, but Jesus speaks them for us now. In my mind, I can hear His compassionate, Shepherd's voice. It is so personal and caring. Its gentleness breaks my soul in pieces. To grasp His loving reach is so humbling.

Yet, I sometimes tire in my grasp. Have you ever prayed with tired arms? "Father, I know you love me. I need you. I can't live without you, but my soul is weighed down with __________________. I long to reach back, to let the power of your love soak my dryness. Help me rest and believe."

The Greek word Jesus uses for rest in Mark 6:31 is anapauo (an-ap-ow-o), which means to cause or permit one to cease from any movement or labor in order to recover and collect his strength; to refresh; to give one’s self rest; to keep quiet; to be calm and have patient expectation.

Some seasons of our lives feel like a movie stuck on pause. Can anyone relate?  The seeming suspension of time is frustrating and discouraging. The sense of stillness is unnatural to our flesh and makes us question our purpose and future. The craving for rest is powerful, but seems beyond reach. Isn't it ironic that the simplicity of ceasing can be such a war for us?

The craving of resting in Christ vs. the desire to find our own way is an exhausting fight, and it's a war we cannot win on our own. A lot of things may help, but only One can deliver. Only Jesus' strength is perfected in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Take time for breathing. Yield to Christ's call. Create a place for some restful waiting. Let Jesus' words give life and healing as you choose to be in His presence.

He speaks. He offers rest. He extends renewal.

As falling leaves prepare my tree for a new season, so God's pauses in our lives prepare our souls for fresh grace. Rest is not a delay of God's best. It is part of His best. And, friend, for spiritual wholeness, it's really not an option.

Take His hand and go with Him. By yourself. Find a quiet place and rest your soul in the strong arms of your Father.

Waiting and Expecting,

KEEP TIGHT IN CHRIST

Patience can be defined as the tolerance of delay.

from thefreedictionary.com

We imagined an easily accomplished afternoon.  A visit to the allergist.  A visit to the bank.  Other errands, and caring for our granddaughters.  Our one vehicle requires careful planning of our days.  Last Tuesday's needs created opportunity for Jeff and I to juggle a busy schedule.

With two girls in tow, safely attached to their car seats, Jeff would drop me by the doctor; then, he would go the bank, finish the errands, and take the children home.  I would call him on my cell when my appointment was done.  It seemed so easily managed.   

And so it was easy until I walked out of my doctor's office, picked up the phone, dialed home, and received a "cannot complete your call now; please try again later" message.  "OK," I thought.  "I must not have a good signal inside the building.  I'll step outside and call."

Same number.  Same message.  Same problem.  I couldn't get through.  I tried again.  And, again.  And, again.   

I scanned my phone for numbers.  Maybe someone else could get through.  I found my brother's number and gave him a call.  He phoned my home number and called me back.  "Andrea, I'm getting a busy signal."

I scanned my phone for my son, Steven's, work number.  He proved very difficult to reach, but after a long while, I got through to him.  He tried to call his dad and got the same "Your call cannot be completed" message.  Steven would see what he could do to help me and call me back.

I was stranded for now. 

I stood outside the beautiful brick building, its four columns gracing a covered portico, which gave me shade.  The afternoon was very warm but not hot, and a light breeze occasionally lifted its gentle presence across my face. 

I remembered a hair clip was in my purse, so I dug through the depths of pictures, eyeglasses, papers, book, pens, mints, and everything else and found the clip at the bottom, took it, and put up my hair. 

I ignored the looks of the passersby, who were going in and out of the doctors' building. 

I waited.   

I thought of walking the three miles home.  "If only I hadn't worn these shoes with heals.  (They were only two inches, but for me may as well been five.)  Why didn't I wear my cushy, black sandals?"

I waited. 

I thought of how my patience span was much less elastic than it had been an hour before. 

My cell rang.  It was Steven, who said he couldn't leave his job at present, but was sending someone to take me home. 

I waited.  Longer.  And longer, still. 

A new problem began to grow in my soul.  I felt an urgent choice arise within, as on one hand my flesh begged for permission to be angry, and on the other hand my spirit remembered words hidden in my heart.

I breathed, and prayed.  "Father my days were all written in your book before I was conceived.  Help me, Lord, to hear you here, in this place, in my now.  Holy Spirit, help me to rest in you.  To be patient.  To do what pleases you.  To see in you in this frustrating, passing moment."

Minutes later, still alone, my son called with news that my deliverer was lost.  I walked in front of the building and found the address number, so he could call my rescuer and give her clearer directions.  Yes, I am one of those people who just might forget to include an address with directions, but please remember my Father loves me anyway.

Several minutes later, a lovely young girl named Stephanie pulled up in front of me.  "Are you Steven's mom?"

"Yes!" which was said with a huge, huge, huge sigh of relief.

Realizing my new friend needed gas in her car, I asked her to stop so I could bless her for blessing me.  Afterwards, we spoke of her children and the difficulties of being a young mom.

Stephanie glanced at me.  "You're different than I thought you would be.  I was afraid you would be mad after waiting all that time, especially when I couldn't find you."

Feeling very humbled by her candor, I told her I was so thankful she could help me and I was in no way mad at her or anyone else.

We parted with a connection and a God-placed nearness.  I knew she wasn't a Christian, and though I hadn't won her to Jesus, a seed was planted.

That seed was placed in her soil because the Lord had given me grace to keep tight in Christ. In my weakness, He gave me strength to make the choice to "Be still, and know" that He is God (Psalm 46:10).

I wish I had a picture to share of my dear Jeff's shocked face when he opened the door to find me standing there, my face red from stress and warmth and my hair plopped on my head like mashed potatoes on a plate.

"What in the world?"  he asked, as he and Olivia and Ella stood gazing at me in awe.

I explained it all.  He picked up the phone to find our service was down.  A few phone calls later found us with a new provider for our landline.   I love my husband!

And, I love You, Lord!  What a wonderful friend and shepherd You are!  Because of Your grace, I could keep tight.  Because your word was fire in my heart and hope in my soul, Stephanie could wonder why I was not angry and rude.

My son shared the whys with Stephanie when she arrived safely back to her job.  And, I pray God will nurture the tiny, tender seed in her heart with His great love.

I wondered later:  "Why didn't I call directory assistance and get a taxi?"  Sometimes being a little dull around the edges is a useful tool in God's hands. Truly, His grace is functional in everything great and all things small.

Friends, keep tight in Christ,

God's Stones

When I was a child, we had a bucket of rocks on our fireplace hearth.  They were the weights that held up my mother's artificial green tree and kept it from toppling.  The bucket of beauties came from rivers in the Smoky Mountains, where we sometimes vacationed.  The stones' surfaces often caused me to run my small fingers over their outer character.  I well remember feeling their somewhat sandy texture.   

My interest in my mother's stones inspired backyard rock-hunting.  My family was blessed with a lot filled with Georgia red clay that was carpeted in Bermuda grass, and filled with tall, Longleaf pines, Dogwoods, Maples, and Oaks.  The shaded, hilly land provided many hours for jumping in piles of pine straw and digging for rocks.  I loved finding God's stones.  Their various textures, colors, and weights of  captured my childlike curiosity. 

My favorite find was white marble.  (I did not then know its name.)  Determined, I would dig until I noticed it's white glitter peering up at me through the fiery soil.  I would pry it from the earth with my stick-shovel and caress it with curiosity.  It looked so beautiful and made me think of purity and diamonds.  My eight year old lips proclaimed it "crystal," and I loved holding it and watching it sparkle.  Every time I found a "crystal" rock, I washed the red clay from it and saved it, thinking it really was something special.

My eight year old imagination did not comprehend how close to truth I was.  I recently learned white marble forms when very pure limestone rock is buried deeply and exposed to high heat and great pressure.  I now understand what I could not get then:  anything that goes through a lot of heat and pressure is special because of the deep, undisturbed process used in its formation.  "Crystal" is a marvel because of its forming.  It is also a marvel because it begins in a very pure state of limestone.

It is pure in its beginning, yet, incomplete.  It is formed through specific circumstances that change its nature. 

Purifying.  Burying.  Working.  Changing.  Forming.  Becoming.  Being. 

White marble and God's unlimited capacity for analogies provide our limited understanding with more than a lesson in geology.  The way of white stone is a study in soul truth.

God's loving heart works purity in our lives, and He chooses to place our sanctified souls in the fire and vice of testing.  The Father's omniscient eyes anticipate the coming crystal result that will sparkle with divine, diamond-like specks.  Snips and shards of Christ's character that combine to create God's special stones.  His keepsakes.  Worthy of washing and holding and loving and marvelling.  Stones of life.  God's treasured collection.  His own.

With this truth planted in my own soul's soil, I today cling to Jesus Christ, the Rock of my salvation.  And I long to learn of His character and search and dig for more of His truth. 

In the process of seeking and digging, however, I often become frustrated.  Time limitations, daily duties, and physical hindrances get in my way.  My "arms" tire.  My will grows weary.  It feels that I have little of me left to unearth the treasures I crave.  I wish for instant success in my search.  I want to see more now.  Know more now.  Love more now.  Be more now.

But the understanding character of Father God has patience with my way and likewise speaks stillness to my restless heart.  As I grow weary with the process, He says, "Be still, Andrea.  Know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10, NIV).

Be still.  Like white marble.  Unmoved in waiting.  Unshaken in surrounding storms.  Yet, changeable with God-designed elements that will one day make me glitter in the sun. 

While waiting for the glittering reflection of Jesus, I pray for abandoned surrender, and sometimes I must search for it just as I search for Christ's reflection.  I not only need surrender to the final formation, but also surrender to the process that will get me there. 

And prayer, with whole heart, will keep me in His earth, planted in the place He has destined for design, so that I will get there and find Jesus' reflection.  

We can all find rest in His destined place.  We find that rest when we relax and let the process of Christ's forming work within us.

It sounds so simple.  Not!

When I was in labor with my sons, I well remember the words of the nurses.  They would gather close to me and strongly encourage.  "Don't fight the pains, Andrea."  I struggled with their counsel.  It was hard to let go.  My own nature wanted to fight against the intensity I felt in my body. 

As well, my carnal nature fights against the intensity of God's process, but as I stand on Philippians 4:13, I am able to do what is unnatural.  "I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me."

We are all in a formation process.  And prayer is one important element that guides our transformation.  Friend, would you join me in prayer?  Would you mind if I approached the throne of grace for you today?  This very moment, as I write these words, I sense our Father's enormous love for you.  You, one very special stone, who are His child.

Dear Father God, I seek you with a heart of praise for your processes.  It is your love, Oh, Lord, that buries us in the hot, dry, weighty places.  It is your eyes of love, Oh, Lord, that comprehend the glittering reflection of your Son that is and will be in each of us. 

 I pray for my friends.  Each one is a choice offering.  Each life is so individual.  Each need is so particular.

Yet, you know, Oh, Lord.  Yes, you know each one.

 I ask You to fill your beloved with peace, with grace, with comfort, with trust, with faith, with joy.  Jesus, let us experience the power of Your holy presence that lifts us from our ache to our knees and to our feet.  May we all be overwhelmed with the realness of Who You are and the power of divine love that we have yet to know fully. 

 I ask You, Jesus, Who suffered for our liberty and healing, to strengthen, edify, and encourage each one who was destined to read here today.  Yes, Lord, You have set your love on her or him.  You care so much more than we can now know.  You care about things that seem small and things that are great, and nothing is too hard for You.  

Lord, You are good.  Your mercies do not fail.  They are new to us each day.  And we thank you for them, for Your merciful nature gives us hope in every circumstance.  Your grace, Father, gives us patience with the process, and please let it be so in all our lives.  

In the name that is above every other name and with faith in His name,

Amen.

Thank you for the honor of praying for you, and thank you for being here with me and for me.  You are precious in the sight of God. 

Shining Together with You as His Living Stones,

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HOPE IN HIS HAND

"God will mend a broken heart if you give Him all the pieces."

-Aesop

Every beat of your heart is one, lonely cadence of force that shares a part in your life.  You will experience about three billion heartbeats in your life, and if something goes wrong with your heart's rhythm, you will likely notice.  You may then say that your heart flutters, or skips, or races, or hurts.  And though you may not know what is wrong, you know something isn't right.

Your spiritual heart is much the same.  When something is wrong, you know.  You may feel afraid, angry, betrayed, bruised, confused, desperate, depressed, dissatisfied, empty, helpless, homesick, hurt, lonely, useless, or worried. . . . Emotional "rhythm" seems not quite together.  You may not realize the depths of your feelings, but you know something isn't right.

Endless possibilities may have provoked your "heart pain":  a best friend betrayed your confidence; you had some bad news about someone you love; you worked and gave up time for yourself and your family for a career that now makes you bored and empty; you were applauded for a unique accomplishment but now feel only useless and unworthy; guilt seems to spoil every chance of happiness; envy for the lives of others eats away what contentment you have; you are tired and just want to be appreciated for what you do; you wonder why certain people who matter to you ignore you or treat you with contempt; you wonder why life is not fair.

Your "heart pain" may even be from casual indifference and neglect.  "I'll get around to God when life slows down."  "It's soccer season."  "I'm working overtime; I just can't think of the Lord right now."  "I'm too stressed to read my Bible everyday."

Or, your heart may have "damage" from many mistakes, regrets, or traumas.  It's been so much easier to shut down the pain than deal with it.  Now, maybe you are numb . . . emotionless . . . passionless.  You wonder what it would be like to feel again. 

In any case, you want freedom from heart misery.  You want a heart that beats with perfect, rhythmic, contented forces of purpose.  You want the "something just isn't right" ache to go away.   

My friend, you are not alone in your pain.  Everyone has personal history of an imperfect heart.  And everyone has only One door to deliverance.   

Salvation of our souls is found in Jesus.  He is the only way to our Father.  Likewise, salvation from a wounded heart is also only found in yielding to God. 

I can testify of God as the only way to wholeness because He is my healer and deliverer.  He is my Creator, Elohim, Who loves me as I am, so much that He will not leave me as He sees me.  He understands all of me, and He formed all of me, including my heart, the abyss of my hopes, hurts, and thoughts.  God  knows me. He gets the mysteries of my soul that blind me.  He comprehends me completely.  My complex personality and all its baggage and wired connections make sense to Him. 

And, my pain does not shock Jesus.  He is not one bit intimidated to look at my gross, oozing wounds and place His holy hands in my bloody sores.  He sees them all for what they are and empathizes with my weaknesses.  And yours.   

He sees your hurt through His eyes of personal experience, His own sacrifice and suffering that surpass all other griefs.  Jesus knows pain so fully.  While on this earth, He was intimate with sorrow, torture, and loneliness.  And Jesus' remembrance of His suffering allows Him to embrace your feelings as no one else can.  You cannot possibly hurt apart from His empathy. 

In tandem with His intimate sense of your hurting heart, Jesus has all the love of Father God.  So, when Christ senses your hurt and sees your suffering, He knows you from both the perspective of unfathomable love and unprecedented pain. 

Jesus is affected.  Compassioned.  Moved.  He hears your heart beat.  He hears your heart speak.  He lives to take it in His hands and hold it and heal its brokenness.
 
Yes, Jesus lives to heal your heart.  His healing for you is personally and beautifully designed.  It is whole, godly wisdom.  It is a balm made just for you.  It is His best.  It is the incomparable best.

Christ ALWAYS knows best.  And, He knows the why of every what in your life - all those deep answers and mysteries of dark glass that you really want to know now.  And, rather than giving you answers, He often chooses to give you healing and rest.  His rest is your gift to receive.  His rest is the joy of laying down the weight that slows you down to molasses' pace or knocks you to a cold, hard ground or kicks you into a pale pit.  His rest is the peace of feeling chains break and later looking behind to see them left at the altar you wisely prepared for you and your God.  His rest is a fresh, smooth road for running grace.   

Running grace!  Freedom to keep your eyes on Christ and give Him all you have!  And the liberty of running grace comes with a bonus!  Don't you love a bonus?  I do.  I am always excited to open an extra gift box and see what's in it. 

Jesus' bonus gifts are the best of all worlds!  And His running grace comes with a powerful side item:  hope. Why is hope such a big deal?  Hope gives life.  It lets us breathe.  Hope for that special something we can't see with our natural eyes causes us to hang in there when we want to quit.  We believe, we know, God is faithful and that His word is true.  We therefore believe and know He is in control and that things will get better. 

So, we do not give up.  We do not give in.  We keep running.  And waiting.

And while waiting, we allow Jesus to do surgery on our hearts.  We yield, and let Him work.  We know that any pain from his doctor hands will be worth it, for Christ only has our good in His perfect heart, and with His perfect touch from a perfect heart, our wholeness begins.  

When, at last, Christ completes a layer of wholeness in our hearts, we soar.  Our yielding, trusting, believing, and enduring give God glory.  Healed, we rise above grief, fear, anxiety, and regret.  The carnal world with its demanding ways and seducing voices no longer anchor us down to a permenant sinking state because Jesus' scarred hands have handled our hurt.

As we soar, we find raw truth in our stillness.  It is a truth only found in surviving the providence of pain.  It is a truth only found in running grace:  Feelings and circumstances do not determine your destiny.  God's divine hand does.

Clinging to God's Healing Truth,

Summer's Bitter and Sweet

Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.

Russel Baker

I imagine the cold sweet. "Drink" the bitter edge that brings delight to a dry throat. "Savor" fleshy bits that burst in the mouth and tell a sultry season, an airy porch, gathered loved ones, childhood innocence, and tall tales.

I have not made lemonade all summer. A first for me. No lemons in the house all season. Not even a mix. And the now steamy days of a southern August are begging for a cold pitcherful of the sweet and sour that loves to quench thirst here in our humble home.

Such neglect speaks of simple chaos. Almost three months of wonder, wander, waiting, and worry. The latter is painful to speak. But one health scare after another with my husband finally pressed me to fear, yet stopped short of sheer panic and anxiety.

I knew the nearness of God's presence. I did not want for the staff of my Shepherd. With His staff, He pulled me near to His pierced side. Drew me close. So I could hear.

I knew the voice of my Beloved. He whispered. I listened. Closely. And words spoken were so gentle. Their soft strength stays now.

"Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted."

With a new season soon to be in the making, and a difficult season behind, I crave fresh. The crisp and cool of a soon-to-come fall comforts my own dislike for summer's heat. Yet, part of me dares to dote for the impossible. To win back days lost to dread. To return with 20/20 vision and walk with hind's feet, climb with greater faith. Breathe pure air of only belief. Stand only bold. See only good. Speak only joy.

Part of me desires such reliving. Only a part. A small part. The greater part speaks louder, and sees God in the 20/20 now and the obscurity of then.

Rests with new vision. With comfort of a trial done. With hindsight of personal need. With humility that looked in the mirror and saw insufficient. Realized the lack of self-ability. Accepted the uncontrollable. Faced doubt. Looked in. Looked around. Looked up. Looked beyond. To this now moment taught us by Paul in 1 Corinthians 10:13. The ultimate time in a trial when we have escape from adversity.

Thank God for his enduring of my doubt and fear and His understanding of my humanness. For bringing me to my knees and causing my soul to reach deeply and dig steadily for faith most precious. For giving opportunity of holding, clinging, trusting found treasures of our Creator's testimonies.

When I was teaching tenth grade, a short story's theme opened a door of reality. Through that story, a personal journey of a truth from God's treasures began. It was not a major literary work. Just a simple side story that told of a boy hero who faced fear. In his awe, he did not turn but held fast and proved himself brave. The little hero conquered fear by acting boldly despite his feelings.

I don't remember the title of the story, the name of characters, or plot development.

What I do remember is the theme. I memorized it. And have never forgotten.

"Courage is the willingness to do something even though you are afraid."

I have clung to these words because of my Christian faith, not because of a mystical, buried human strength that ends in self-gratification and egotism.

So often, we feel we have failed when we have fear. Maybe it is only my personal experience, but I feel rather sure there are others who have felt the nagging pain of guilt and defeat from anxiety, fear, stress, or trauma. We long to be among the super godly who are unaffected by life's jolts, stabs, and bruises.

God's word, however, does not demean our fear or distress. Rather, scriptures reveal a compassionate heavenly Father who greatly exhorts our faith and lovingly encourages us to take heart, regardless of past, present, or future pain. We are compelled to overcome. To cast fear away and hope and believe in God's saving power.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go" (Joshua 1:9).

"The LORD is my light and my salvation - whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life - of whom shall I be afraid?" (Psalm 27:1).

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).

"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline" (2 Timothy 1:7).

We can take heart because of His promises. And without fear of failure, admit our need. God is for us just as He was for Abraham; for the widow of Zarephath; for Daniel; the wedding company without wine; the woman who hemorrhaged for twelve years; Mary, Martha, and Lazarus; the 120 in the Upper Room; the Apostle Paul.

We live by faith. Not by sight. Not by what we wish. Not by material things. Not by abilities or tangibilities. As Christians, sons and daughters of the Most High, we live because Christ lives in us and through us.

But we can find ourselves locked in a dark room with only the unknown around and His word in our hearts. We then make a choice. Succumb to doubt or hold to His word hidden within. When we choose to stand on scripture, God honors our faith! We yet wait. We may yet feel fear. We may not yet know deliverance or have an answer. We may yet battle worry. We may yet stumble. We may yet even fall.

And if we do fall, we get up again. We stand, straighten our path, and prove God true. We may be propped up with strength, but we stand. We may cry with pain, but we stand. We may feel alone, but we stand. We have no place to turn, be confused, but we stand.

Even in weakness, we stand and are strong. Why? Our faith, that faith given to us and developed in us by God himself, is greater than our fear. For the One Whose word gave us our faith is greater than our weakness, failure, falling, disappointment, emptiness, sadness, guilt, hurt, pain, illness, or death.

Though in fear, we can stand in faith. Can choose God's word. Can trust His hand. Can know His presence.

We remember His mighty acts. We run to His testimonies. We grasp raw truth. We take courage.

Do you need courage? You're human. Are you afraid? God is near. Do others mock your fear? So what? Do you feel like a failure because you cave? Realize the source of your guilt and throw it away like a piece of trash.

God, dear one, understands your feelings, and He has divine remedy for all. Place your hand in His, go to His well, lean on His arm. Trust His name even though you are afraid. Believe, believe, believe in the Father's love.

Place. Lean. Trust. Believe. That, my friend, is courage.

Let's give the tenth grade literary theme a twist of Christian persuasion.

Courage is yielding to God's word and trusting in His love no matter what we feel, think, or see. It is choosing to ignore our fear and lean on what we know from His word. It is staying hope that is not swayed by our emotions. Courage remains and may even co-exist with fear for a time, but courage is God-given, through His word, and overcomes our circumstances and will always ultimately defeat fear.

As I write, I realize I could face another challenge before this day has ended. In fact, the enemy is already trying to stir fear in my heart as my son and his wife make plans for a missions trip to what can be a dangerous area of Africa.

More and more, I am realizing that our entire Christian lives are a walk of faith versus fear. We hear about it from so many preachers, teachers, speakers, writers, etc. They all speak encouragement into our lives. We leave their words feeling ready to tackle the enemy. Praise God for such ministry! But the personal realizing and living of it can quickly change "Amen" and praise to sweaty palms and trembling hearts that overwhelm and subdue belief when the phone rings, or a knock is heard, and fear says, "Hello, again."

Remember the basis of 1 Corinthians 13. The three lasting, remaining, elements of our Christian life are faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of the three is love! Also, remember 1 John 4: 18 tells us that perfect love drives out fear. "Perfect" here means mature, complete, and refers to labor and growth of moral character - i.e., our relationship with God. And "drives out" or "casts out" means to strike, throw down.

Dear friends, perhaps I am wrong, but I see from these scriptures one answer to our battle with fear and intimidation. It is not found in scripture alone, but in our walk with God. The more maturity we have in Him and the closer our hearts are to His, the greater our power to stand against the enemy.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us" (Ephesians 3:20). In this scripture, "power" refers to ability, abundance, strength, might; "within" refers to a fixed state; for the sake of, to give self wholly to.

May we grasp the fullness of these simple truths in our hearts. The closer we are to our Beloved, the stronger our standing. As we fall deeper and deeper in love with Christ, fear will have less and less influence on us. As fear loses its power in our lives, our faith will grow, and God's power and His word will blossom in our hearts.

A.W. Tozer sums it up far better than I can. His words can be taken in and bring nourishment and revelation to our hearts and souls:

The love of Christ both wounds and heals, it fascinates and frightens, it kills and makes alive, it draws and repulses. There can be nothing more terrible or wonderful than to be stricken with love for Christ so deeply that the whole being goes out in a pained adoration of His person, an adoration that disturbs and disconcerts while it purges and satisfies and relaxes the deep inner heart.

Praise God for such love! I am looking for the purging, satisfying love of Christ that will transform my heart and my faith. I am not looking for a "pie in the sky" God who gives me everything I want and always expects perfect faith . But I am so thankful for a heavenly Father whose daughter I am. Who cares. About every need. And wants me to develop hind's feet and eagle's wings. May my heart and hope hang in there and wait before Him all the days of my life.

May you go in the grace of God today and find His love at every turn.

All scripture is from NIV Bible.

Research is from e-sword.

*We will have lemonade in our cottage ere summer ends.

*Please forgive this lengthy post.