MIGHTY JUNGLE: MIGHTER GOD

 "Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not."  

~ Lamentations 3:22

FRIENDS, I AM SHARING A PIECE OF MY HEART WITH YOU.  A POST IS LONG OVERDUE.

"What did you say, Honey?"  My husband's voice could not have sounded more gentle.  Its soothing kindness humbled me.  His tender, compassionate soul captivated mine, yet, searching my fog-ridden mind for an answer was too tiring.  Response was so distant.  Too far to reach.  Words alive seconds before lay dead.

Yet, these dead words and others in my life are not dead so silent.  Their powerful influence screams with life.

They are an unyielding, haunting, scrambled voice, an unwelcomed echo that takes no notice of my desire that they be raised.

I plead.  I shout.  The dormant bundles do not hear.  They do not listen.

Doctors tell me it is "brain fog," an inability to recall words or details, a fuzzy sort of feeling in the head.  Concentration can be elusive.  And the frustration of it all is hard to reconcile in a body exasperated with pain, exhaustion, and muscle stiffness.

I look for mercy.  I hope for reprieve from the other annoyances of  reflux, dizziness, depression, tinnitus, and hair loss.

Yet, fibromyalgia has chosen to make its presence known in my life.  It must be heard.  It must be felt.

Fibromyalgia is like a choking vine.  It wraps and wraps, trying to mask the person whose life has become its ground and wall.  Its job is to suffocate, to criple, to put down.

As I write these words, my "voice" struggles through a mighty jungle.  I am impassioned.  Like one who longs to find her secret garden behind sticky thorns, sappy branches and clinging vines, I work to cut down and pull out barriers to imagination.

My strength is inefficient.  My work is lacking.  My persistence is waning. 

I gasp for air, as one being buried in woody mire.  The echoes of confinement raise to mock my insufficiency.  These echoes are clear, understood words.  They work to banish hope, to kill desire, to destroy belief.

These words mean war.

I fight for faith, reach for grace, grasp for knowledge of One Who can smother the brutal echoes, Who can with one word crumble walls and cut vines, Who has strength to bear life and lift from mire, Who has hope to restore loss, Who has grace to soothe pain.  One,...

Who waits for my stillness.

When faced with chronic pain, stillness is not the natural way for most, including me.  We want to move.  We want to search and find our own way.  We go to doctors and physical therapy.  We take medication.  We scan the web and look for help.  We go on special diets.  We visit the health food store.  We fight to have our life the way we know it should be.  The way it used to be.

Such has been my fleshly fight.

And, in the midst of this fleshly fight, I have come face to face with a greater enemy.  It is a bigger opponent than pain.

It is a war of  a weary soul.  My soul yearns for rest within.  It cries with the need to be still, the need to find deeper grace, the need to know greater personal reality with God, the need to live Paul's words that tell me to be "content in whatever situation I am in" (Philippians 4:11).

Friends, I seek healing, but I also seek something, Someone, greater than healing.

An understanding of the phrases, "Seek the Giver, not the gift; seek the Healer, not the healing," are my reality.  And,...

it is precious reality. 

Perhaps that sounds foreign to you.  But before you judge me, listen to my heart.

I am living with pain allowed by a God so loving, so compassionate, so tender, so I would seek the beauty of sufficient grace.  Grace that pours like a river into the life of one who is only and always not enough on her own.  Grace that is only found through surrender that calls loudly for more and more of me.

Grace that is not found in the pew of my church.  Grace that is not found in a perfectly well body.  Grace that is not found in pristine appearance.  Grace that is not found in serving.  Grace that is not found in a perfect life.

I seek that grace that is found on the battlefield of my insufficiency and His sufficient place.    

I weep.  I rejoice.  I huddle in pain.  I rise in praise.  I hurl in rebellion.  I crumble in surrender.  

I taste depression, yet dance with joy because He is faithful.  And, He is my God, Who loves me with everlasting love! 

Friends, the Father's grace does not compare with human best.  All the times and seasons of our lives are in His nail-scarred hands.  I cannot weigh God's goodness on human scales.  With every prayer breathed, I ask Him to be my all in all.  I pray to let go of my human need to understand, and to let go of any fleshly idea that I have a right to understand.

I work to surrender.  To flesh-out my faith.  I confess my not enough, and glory in Christ's everything in everything. 

Reality stings and sets free, for awesome victory follows surrender! 

I hope you hear my heart leaping, as my fingers press my keyboard with promise!  I pray you are rejoicing with me as you hear the Vinedresser cutting through a mighty jungle in my life! 

I'm alive, and my soul will ever live to give glory to the One and only God and Jesus Christ, my redeemer.   

As I close, I am thinking now of so many who suffer much, much more than I do.  This day, so many live with devastating words, and so many hearts break and are breaking because of pain that speaks terminal hopelessness.  Please pray for these lives and the lives of their loved ones.  Please cry out to God for those who face cancer and other severe illnesses and traumatic injuries.  Ask God for healing and hope. 

Because of His Grace, Through His Love,

When Mountains Won't Move

Jones Valley, Huntsville, AL

A simple sharing of Psalm 24...

I am surrounded by mountains.  In the winter months, their brownish peaks tell of both dormancy and awaiting life.  In spring, their leaves of verdant hues fill in empty spaces in my horizon, creating beauty and expanding joy.   

Our city is flanked by the foothills of the Appalachians, so their blue-green peaks are ubiquitous.  One of my favorite places to tread is Jones Valley.  Just eleven years ago, when we first moved to Huntsville, it was only pastureland.  Now it is also now a vibrant, growing shopping center.  Most of my buying ambitions are satisfied there.  I love to bargain shop!  When I come out of Target or Marshall's or Ross (my best places), I am always taken back by the mountains in the distance before me.  God's creative force forces praise from my soul.  I walk to my car, humbled and thankful that He is my God and that there is no other!

Mountains are a statement of God's power!

Is that the powerful force David discussed in Psalm 24?  "Who may climb the mountain of the LORD? Who may stand in his holy place?"  The Psalmist continues to write that purity ushers us into God's presence.  Purity levels the mountains of separation between us flawed humans and our holy God. 

The desperate need of God's presence and power in my life compels me to seek purity.  Every day.  At morning, noon, evening, and in-between.  Each moment, I seek wholeness, so that I will be whole in His presence, so that I will "receive blessing from the LORD and vindication from God" my Savior (v.5).

If I seek purity, I meet with majesty.  Yes, God's majesty awaits a sanctified heart. 

Yet, sometimes, I must admit, purity seems so far, so unachievable.  Because it is.

It is unachievable in my own strength.  Without the cross, without grace, I am hopelessly abandoned to self-will and sin. 

So, the seeking of "the mountain of the Lord" and "God's holy place" begins in determined abandonment of my own nature.  I am thinking of Mary whose great solace was taking "a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair (John 12:3).  I am thinking of Ruth, who told Naomi,  "Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God" (Ruth 1:16).  I am thinking of Paul who wrote to the Corinthians,  "I am jealous for you with a godly jealousy. I promised you to one husband, to Christ, so that I might present you as a pure virgin to him (2 Corinthians 11:2). 

Inspiring and urging voices lead me to purity.  Father, how I need your purity, so the glory of God will be seen in me.

I see the "holy hill" before me now.  Yes, it is a long walk and is up a hill.  On that hill stands a cross, and below that cross is ground for kneeling....   

  

Scriptures used are from the NIV Bible.

Light in the Heart of Dimness

From my heart to yours, I thank you for bearing with me as I am draw from the Well of Living Waters and seek his strength.  When I last posted in November, I did not expect to be away from blogging for so long.  I never planned a break.  I just kept clinging to the belief that each day I would feel rested and find strength to post again.  That day has not arrived; yet, I am beginning to see light flicker in dimness.

The flurry of bringing our home back together, increasing chronic pain and fatigue, along with caring for my grandchildren and keeping up with church became a bit overwhelming for me.  It is not easy to admit weakness, but I recognize pride as a dangerous enemy and a barrier that prevails against overcoming faith.  So, I appreciate your prayers, as I seek refreshment that I may again encourage you and give my life more wholly to Jesus.

Isn't God great?  Aren't you so thankful to know him and share in the gospel of Jesus Christ?  God's faithfulness and mercy astound me each day, and despite my feelings, I awake every morning with joy, knowing that He created our days and nothing surpasses his knowledge or love.  Oh, yeah!  Lamentations 3:22-24 is one of my favorite passages, and I can't go one day without it! 

"Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, 'The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.'”

Hold that one close to your soul, my friend!  And let the words of Jeremiah filter through your struggles.  He knew his portion.  That portion is God himself, "who was and is and is to come" (Revelation 4:8).  Never count God out!  He always shows up!  Bless his holy name!

I love you, sweet friends!  Hang with me, please!






P. S.  The pic below is from Christmas day.  My husband is always by my side, and I love him for his heart that's so huge it would hold the world and for his awesome love for the Lord.

*Bible quotes are from the NIV.

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,

HE WALKED THE WAY

Summer is gone!  I am not saddened by its disappearance because I do not like hot weather, and I loathe humidity.  What a relief it is for this southern girl to awake to crisp, breathable air each morning! 

The cool air and colorful strength of fall means more than breathable, physical change.  It speaks of a transition time that holds new meaning and purpose.  It begins a journey toward celebration of harvest festivals, Thanksgiving, and the birth of Jesus.

This current fall morning, our forward journey includes the continuing story of the November 2009 fire we had in our home.  I would have never believed it possible!  Who would have known that we would still be in the throes of it all?  Yet, God's good has walked with us and will walk with us through fine details that will be completed.  Through God's grace, we will finish our climb to the mountain above us and look down at the smoky valley with God-enpowered vision. 

What a faithful God we serve!  I could not have walked this way without His presence!  Sometimes Jeff and I pause to question the process of what seems a year of our lives lost to an explosive second.  Yet, God's grace immediately interrupts our pauses, speaking peace, speaking patience, speaking hope, speaking faith, and speaking the reality of what could have been true disaster.

I share a story this fall 2010 morning because of divine intervention.  Sweet Olivia, my three year old granddaughter, was spared injury and possible death from the explosion simply because she didn't want to leave Mimi's house an autumn afternoon in 2009.  If you're not familiar with the story, you can read about it here:  http://aparsonswife.blogspot.com/2009/11/fearful-sound.html

Olivia and her younger sister Ella spent some time with me Tuesday.  While a frozen pizza baked in the oven, we all snuggled up on the daybed in our little walk-through bedroom.  I love cuddle time with my grands and take advantage of every cuddle opportunity.

I was whispering "I love you" in their wee ears when Olivia suddenly lighted from my arms, walked to the bookshelf, and brought me a book.  I saw that it was The Wind in the Willows, a classic that will be fun to share with my grandchildren when they are a little older.  Expecting to read a bit from her choice, I was surprised when she said, "I want to read you a story, Mimi."  Of course, she cannot read, but as any three year old, she wants to believe she can, and I humored her pretension.

"Okay," I said, with no reservations, yet having no clue that God had shown up with a blessing prepared for us.

Olivia entitled the book He Walked the Way.  In hearing those words, I knew our cuddle time was going to be more than our usual grandmother-granddaughters bonding.  It would be a bonding session with Jesus.  God had chosen to sweeten my current fall morning with a real message about real life and real values.  With each of the page, Olivia "read."  I'll share with you her story.

"Jesus had a cross....He had a cross.  He walked the way....He walked the way for Livvy....He walked the way for Mimi....He walked the way for Ella....He walked the way for Papa....He walked the way for Bubba....He walked the way for Mommy and Daddy....He walked the way.  Amen."

Jesus walked the way.  Truth spoken from the lips of one too young to fully grasp her words entwined its beautiful vine around my heart! 

Those words are the summation of our faith.  Isn't His walking the beginning and ending of all our experiences?  Don't the lines in the sandy soil that led to Golgotha's Hill mark every conscious decision of our lives?  Don't the images of Jesus' compassion and his sweat and blood and suffering give us faith that makes us stand when our world is rocked or turned upside-down?  Doesn't his resurrection give us hope that is not tied to temporal things?  Doesn't the vision he gives us reveal the true meaning of living?  

Yes, He walked the way.  He walked a way that was scorched with pain of every kind, so I can walk freely in the Spirit.  Thank you, Abba Father, that you sacrificed your only Son for me, for my family, for everyone of us.  

Jesus walked the way for our freedom, so that we can have salvation, freedom, joy, peace, leadership, deliverance, healing, and so much more.

Whatever your journey requires, Jesus has surveyed your steps.  He has walked your way.  He knows your way.  He is the Shepherd that leads you on your way and will carry you when paths are too rough for your treading.

I love passing Olivia's story on to you!  Rejoice!  You do not have to fear!  You are not alone and never will be!  He has walked, is walking, and will walk your way!

Your Shepherd's Calling . . .

"The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want . . ."  Psalm 23 must have been one of the first scriptures I ever learned because I cannot remember not knowing it.  And as long as I've known it, I have loved it.  To embrace the impassioned, ocean-deep words of David's soul is comforting.  His heart's voice is like a balm, still giving life after 3000 years with God-breathed language. 

I have lately been pondering Psalm 23.  Something about a valley walk makes their message even more life-giving.  Something about living around shadows, of the need to feast in the presence of trials, of the desperate, exhaustive search for peaceful rest and restoration, lifts Psalm 23 from comforting to miraculous.

Dwelling in the pastures of the 23rd Psalm is drinking from an endless well of calming waters.  Who does not need that today?  I cannot imagine a 21st century Christian who is exempt from the harshness and desert-like terrain of our society.  Most of us live on the fringes of a spiritual heat stroke or wilderness dehydration, and sometimes we are so busy caring for others we don't even hear our own soul's pleas for help.

But, if we stop, simply pause, and listen, if we pull aside and face our exhaustion and fears, if we grasp courage and let the Holy Spirit whisper in our ears, we will let go of our busyness for a time and know our need.  We will see, with godly vision, our real selves, not just the smoke screen that is created with the environments of life.  And seeing with godly vision creates a desire to find the still waters of which David wrote.

In my own seeking, I've been thinking about Elijah.  The prolific Old Testament prophet surely walked close to death and lived in the presence of his enemies.  He expended himself in gut-wrenching ministry.  Elijah prophesied drought for Israel for their embracing of other gods; he ran from the wicked, murderous schemes of Ahab and Jezebel; in obedience to God, he proved to Israel the folly of their idol worship by building a water-drenched altar where Yahweh showed up with His fire and was once again proclaimed the One, true God; Elijah ordered the killing of 450 priests of Baal; he then ran for his life from Jezebel's vow to kill him.  No wonder Elijah became so exhausted that all he could do was sit under a Juniper tree and be nourished by angels.  Empty, exhausted, and depressed, the Prophet needed divine intervention.  Regaining strength, Elijah travelled forty days and nights and finally hid in a cave, and perhaps we might think of that lonely, dark, empty place as the cleft of a rock.  Yes, a cave carved by our Creator for Elijah's need.

We all know the story well.  God showed up again.  This time He was there to prove Himself to Elijah.  Yahweh spoke.  Not in the wind, an earthquake, or a fire, but in a "still, small voice."  The original Hebrew words that describe God's "still, small voice" tell us much about our loving Shepherd.  Their meanings are calm, whispering, very thin, light, peaceful.  A heroic, but fragile Elijah needed a tender Shepherd's voice to speak to his wounded, broken, fearful soul.

Sweet friends, aren't you glad that your God knows you through and through and calls you by name?  Not only does He call you by name, but God also knows how to call you and from where to call you.  He knows the very tone to use and the providential echo that will capture your focus. 

The same Shepherd to David and Elijah is your Shepherd this moment.  He is where you are.  He is what you need. He your NOW God!

Working mom,  Jesus is your path to a quiet place.  Stay at home mom, His green pastures will feed your soul and give you strength and resources to care for your family.  Empty-nester, your lonely spaces will overflow with His joy.  Grandmother, pray in confidence for your children and grandchildren, for you do not have to fear evil.  Weary servant, listen for your Lover's voice, as He whispers truth.

In my quiet time this morning, God led me to one of my favorite scriptures:  Lamentations 3:22-23.  "Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."  What a great beginning for this day and everyday of my life and your life!!!  To grasp the reality of God's love, compassion, mercy, and faithfulness is everything we need for every circumstance.

Hang onto His truth.  Praise Him for all the good He's shows you.  Cling to His word and love with all you have, and keep these verses from Lamentations before you, for through their reality in your own world, you will not lack.  You will not be in want.

God is good.  I am overwhelmed with thankfulness for His merciful nature.  Our Yahweh is a giving God.  He is our personal Shepherd, who guides us lovingly through our lives.

Trust in His staff and rod now.  Yield to His boundaries.  Yield to His complete knowledge.  Yield to His hand.  Yield to His tender voice.

I love you, friends.








*NIV scripture references