shout to the Lord

this is an oldie but a goodie. i just love don moen. his music is one of my earliest memories of belting it out with everything i got.

this has been the cry of my heart for as long as i can remember.
more true now then it's ever been.
let every breath, all that i am
never cease to worship You
nothing compares to the promise i have in You.

stand. {rehoboth farm}

as you may already know, we are just about to move to our dream farm... whilst at the same time desperately trying to sell our house. this has not been a pleasant experience with two dogs, four kids & a schedule in overtime. in fact, i would probably say it has been unnecessarily, above & beyond our expectation of what this unpleasant experience probably should have been. it has been an experience akin to the fire swamp in 'the princess bride' or the ten plagues in the old testament. in fact, you probably would think we were grossly exaggerating the shenanigans 'blighting our land' as of late.

with pestilence ranging from several cycles of a species of flu akin to black death, our house punching me in the face, a variety of our household appliances simultaneously going on strike including both our vehicles for weeks at a time (which ended fatally for our toaster, blender, coffee press, coffee grinder & all our phone charging devices), a dog gone wild, my husband's overactive travelling schedule hitting it into high gear, entering the 7th circle of house showing hell (which i'm sure one day very far from now will become favourite funny stories)...and that's not to mention the last little bag of tricks that has been thrown our way just as we prepare to close on monday. it would be considered a victory if we could avoid catastrophe two days in a row not to mention actually make it to the farm.

and yet from a place of everything-that-could-go-wrong-has-gone-wrong, i look at others stories like "12 years a slave" kinda stories & my problems are humbled to insignificance. 

it could all be in my head but it does feels like we are under attack. it is ironic that there has been such contention over this place as one of the names steve & i had been throwing around for the farm was 'rehoboth'. 'rehoboth' means 'broad place', and it refers to the land of inheritance that only God can give & that the enemy cannot steal from you. 'rehoboth' meaning a place of enlargement & flourishing. it was the name isaac gave his un-contended well.

"so when they dug the third well and there were no quarrels isaac named it rehoboth saying 'now the Lord has given us room and we well flourish in the land.'"

{gen 26:22}

this experience has taken a pretty detailed account of our weaknesses & short comings. where our faith & attitudes have failed, God has met us with His fullness & His faithfulness. any earthy hope has been replaced by the Promise found in Himself.  

in responding to some of these multi-fauceted, fast-paced challenges, it's been hard to not get shaken up & i haven't always known what exactly to do. and sometimes there isn't anything to do.  i love how ephesians 6:13 puts it...

"finally, be strong in the Lord & in His mighty power. put on the full armour of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes...therefore, put on the full armour of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. stand firm..."  

when you've done all to stand, stand. i can stand because i've done all to stand and then God partners with me & stands with me. and i stand. feet firm. vision locked. belt tightened.

and so i stand. my feet firm on the contended soon to be un-contended, flourishing broad ground of 'rehoboth farm'.

thanks to all those who have been so faithfully contending for us in prayer. :)

pride

it's amazing what comes to the surface when you're under a little pressure. feeling a little bit convicted recently as my own pride surfaces in different areas...

my name is Pride. i am a cheater.
i cheat you of your God-given destiny...because you demand your own way.
i cheat you of contentment...because you "deserve better than this".
i cheat you of knowledge...because you already know it all.
i cheat you of healing...because you're too full of me to forgive.
i cheat you of holiness...because you refuse to admit when you're wrong.
i cheat you of vision...because you'd rather look in the mirror than out a window.
i cheat you of genuine friendship...because nobody's going to know the real you.
i cheat you of love...because real romance demands sacrifice.
i cheat you of greatness in heaven...because i convince you to seek your own.
my name is Pride. i am a cheater.
you like me because you think i'm always looking out for you. untrue.
i'm looking to make a fool of you.
God has so much for you, i admit, but don't worry... if you stick with me you'll never know.
{beth moore, praying God's word: breaking free from spiritual strongholds}

wave walking

a song about borderless trust. wave wandering. and sinking feelings.
about the fail-less One.  

because He's called me out on the waters...


and i will call upon your name, keep my eyes above the waves,
when oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace,
for i am Yours & You are mine.

where feet may fail & fear surrounds me,
You've never failed & You won't start now.

the God of arms & legs

i love westerns. it is one of my secret guilty pleasures.

the other day while watching one said western, there was this really dubious scene in which the reverend of the small dusty town goes inevitably crazy, overtaken by the overwhelming darkness & wickedness that's grown so familiar around him.  one of the lost settlers stumbles into the reverend's tent & confesses that he wants to turn from his wicked ways & repent & asks what he should do to be saved. and the reverend, looks up & in this infamous speech says...

"do you really want to believe in this god? let me tell you a story. way back when, the devil [tied] god's arms & legs. and then plucked his eyes out & [gaged] him. but god could still hear us. he couldn't do anything to help us out of our misery but he could still hear us writhe & scream to the heavens. and so that is why we pray. because although god has no arms or legs for which to reach us, no eyes to see us or voice to speak to us, he has ears to hear our immense misery. now, do you really want to believe in this god?"

it was quite a shocking scene really. needless to say, that poor lost settler did not get saved that night. but i just couldn't get that monologue out of my head. i think because its sometimes the temptation i face in the midst of challenges. i can see Him as someone stationary, indifferent to my plight. or if i see Him as benevolent & loving, He certainly isn't passionate enough to move on my behalf in tangible ways. that because He isn't ending all suffering everywhere, He isn't interested in ending mine. and although i have some thoughts on suffering & the goodness of God that i've gleaned along the way, i don't think any thing could quite change our minds more than God standing up for Himself. we talk every Sunday about God's arms & legs & voice but until you've tangibly seen & touched His hands, looked into those eyes burning for you... we'll that's a completely different, undeniable experience.

so if you find yourself in a lonely place, surrounded by the darkness of circumstance, i dare you to invite the God of mighty arms & legs of bronze & thunderous voice & passionate gaze into your situation.

because it's either meeting the all powerful, fully functioning, eternally passionate God or being content with a god who only has ears to hear our futility. and i think we can both agree that the former is were the heart longs to believe.

catastrophizing & open vents

it was another ordinary morning. the kids came bounding down the stairs at 6:17am, eagerly climbing their stools & enthusiastically awaiting their breakfast. it was an ordinary morning until...

...we noticed something a little bit different.
"what's that?" asked dav with a scrunched up nose, pointing to the vent.
stuck in the vent was a wooden spoon with a bunch of bananas hanging off the end.
"i don't know" i said puzzled.
and we puzzed & puzzed until our puzzlers were tired. dav was sure it was an alien invasion. eva thought it was the mice that frequent our kitchen trying to get our attention. kai just cried. it was too weird for him. livi babbled on about some kinda crazy and i was genuinely freaked out. i just could not think of why anyone would come into our house & set that up. we had had the mckinnons over the night before. could it have been them, continuing in their pranking tradition? no, this was too weird. there had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation but i sure was getting worked up into a jitter thinking of the worst possible conclusions.

and so, we just left it there. i made sure no one touched it & tried my very best to resist the burning temptation to bound up the stairs & shake steve awake, who was soundly slumbering, and shout "something's gone CRAZY in the kitchen!!!"

it is upon reflection that i realize i might have the inherited the knack for 'catastrophizing'. 

catastrophizing: the habit of automatically assuming a "worst case scenario" and inappropriately characterizing minor or moderate problems or issues as catastrophic events.

others have described it as shutting yourself in your own "emotional panic room". this does not only happen when i find kitchen spoons & bananas hanging out of vents but often when facing any kind of routine challenge. if one of our kids behaves poorly while out in public i automatically jump to the conclusion that they will become a menace to society if not stopped. if i make a poor parenting decision or lose my cool, i'm a terrible mother not worthy of her children. i know we all have our moments of jumping to conclusions now & then, but for me, this has been an unhealthy habit which needs to change.

it turns out that steve had rigged the banana-spoon lever system to keep the vent open. we had recently replaced the vents with some antique ones we had bought at a garage sale & the flappy thing kept closing, which was messing with our heat in the kitchen. no aliens. no creepy stalker message. no attention starved mice. catastrophizing, indeed.

but i felt the Lord speak to me through it. that in the moment of intense pressure or anxiety, if i can just remember to keep the vent open & let Him into my little "emotional panic room", i would find my footing in peace faster & surer. it's the first step when getting carried away by my own thinking. and this has given me a great confidence. especially since, the next morning i found our bread box flung out the front door, laundry piled high barricading entry to the laundry room & the dog collar remote in our bed. but that's a story for another time. :)

Dear friend, guard Clear Thinking and Common Sense with your life; 
don’t for a minute lose sight of them.
They’ll keep your soul alive and well, 
they’ll keep you fit and attractive.
You’ll travel safely,
 you’ll neither tire nor trip.
You’ll take afternoon naps without a worry, you’ll enjoy a good night’s sleep.
 No need to panic over alarms or surprises,
 or predictions that doomsday is just around the corner, 
because God will be right there with you; he’ll keep you safe and sound.

Proverbs 3:24-26 The Message

daddy-daughter dance {letters to eva}

i was buzzing around the counter making preparations for the long three day recovery of wisdom teeth which was imminent. you sat there pensively licking the beaters dripping with monkey bread batter. 'beautiful ryder' came on my ipod & i turned it up as loud as my little ipod speakers could go, prepared for the consequence of waking the others up from their blissful naps.
"and what's this song mom?" you ask.
"this song is about how beautiful Jesus is. and i love it!" i say belting out the lyrics.
"yeah but there are no girls in this song, because Jesus is very handsome. boys are handsome & girls are beautiful" you say.
"well, sometimes you can be so handsome that you are beautiful at the same time" i say.
"and Jesus is dancing with us isn't He?" you say.
"oh, Jesus loves to dance with you evie"i say.
"and He loves to dance with me but He has no legs" you say.
"why do you think He has no legs?" i ask.
"because He lives in my heart mom. silly, i'm His legs." you say.
i stop & well up just a little.
"oh, yes! that's right. that's very good eva."i say.
"look! and He can even do twirls just like me! and i think He's even likin' dancing with Scout!" you say with a little giggle, demonstrating.
"and Jesus is happy because He loves me & i will always love dancing with Him. He can hang onto my legs maybe for always."

i don't know about Him hanging onto your legs. but i do know that He loves to dance with you my evie. sometimes we forget when we dance or sing for Him that He was the initiator. that He was the one who woke us up with His song & it's our soul that harmonizes with His melody. like a little girl placing her feet on her daddy's & dancing around the room. He's never been an impartial observer of our worship. sometimes we're just oblivious & miss it. we forget to look into His eyes burning for us. but just because we miss it doesn't mean it isn't there. the love songs painted across the skies in tones there is no name for. the passionate ballet unfolded in the rising sun & the earth's waking each day. when He sings His lullabye over us with the croon of the meadow lark or the hush of the stars. the greatest romance known to mankind spread across the universe in all it's vibrance & violence. and it is loud & all consuming when you hear it, see it, embrace it. and so keep your eyes & ears open. for He sings for you little eva joy. He sings for you all day & all night.
and that's the most beautiful thing i have ever seen or heard.
your little heart dancing with His.

'there's a man wrapped in light. 

with eyes of fire burning bright

with feet like bronze & a blinding glow.

with a golden sash & hair like snow.

He is King, He is Judge, He is Mercy, He is Love.

how beautiful is the man on the white horse. how beautiful is the Lamb who was slain.

worthy is Your name. worthy is Your name.'

{jake hamilton, beautiful ryder}