Trust in Me Child

I remember it being an especially difficult day.  We were well into our second week in Africa and I was feeling heavy from the knowledge that much was happening in the hearts and lives of my friends back home. In addition, I was struggling with my own thoughts, questions of calling and fighting any idea of doing something that was out of my already broad, or so I thought, comfort zone.  Even with all of that, these were the only words that made the page of my well-traveled journal.

"Trust in me child

Trust in me child

Trust in me

When you're weak

Or in need child

Trust in me

When you fear

Or things aren't clear child

Trust in me

I will never leave or forsake you

I will be the calm in the storm

And when life's unsure

Trust in my Word

I will keep you safe in my arms

When you're broken

Your pain unspoken

Trust in me

When your anger

Seems to linger

Trust in me

I will never leave or forsake you

I will be the calm in the storm

And when life's unsure

Trust in my word

I will keep you safe in my arms"

In that moment, there was no doubt to me that the Father had heard the cries of my heart.  He was with me.  It was as if He had written this song, just for me--just for my heart.  A reminder that He is ever-faithful.

Today, in the midst of uncertainty, feeling heavy from the knowledge that the math just doesn't add up.  Not sure where next month's bill payments will come from--these familiar words came to mind.  "Trust in me child, trust in me child, trust in me." They were a soothing whisper into my tired soul today.

Okay Father, I hear you. I trust you. Here I am. Take all of me.

You Meet Us in Our Mourning

As I was contemplating what to write--longing to write something of worth, these lyrics began to softly penetrate the silence of my small living room.

There is strength within the sorrow, There is beauty in our tears

You meet us in our mourning, With a love that casts out fear

You are working in our waiting, Sanctifying us

When beyond our understanding, You're teaching us to trust

Your plans are still to prosper, You have not forgotten us

You're with us in the fire and the flood

Faithful forever, Perfect in love

You are sovereign over us

You are wisdom unimagined, Who could understand your ways

Reigning high above the heavens, Reaching down in endless grace

Youʼre the Lifter of the lowly, Compassionate and kind

You surround and You uphold me, Your promises are my delight

Even what the enemy means for evil

You turn it for our good, You turn it for our good and for your glory

His faithfulness is astounding.  His love--immeasurable.  On a day where discouragement is plentiful and uncertainty lurks close by--He remains, unmoving.  

Oh God, hold me near.  Might I rest in your presence.  Oh that I might dwell in You.  Might I drink deeply of your abiding love.  Oh that my life would glorify You and bring You praise.  In life, in death, in joy, in sorrow--might I find my life hidden deeply in You.

The Dwelling Place

When I was in third grade, maybe, I remember my mom having my brother and I memorize different scriptures as part of our home schooling.  To this day I am still able to recite Psalm 91.  "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, He is my shield and rampart, my God in whom I trust.  Surely He will save me from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence.  He will cover me with His feathers and under His wings I will find refuge...."  Hmm, what an incredible proclamation of God's faithfulness.

For some reason today after months--years even, of not thinking about it, Psalm 91:1 was lingering in my mind.  "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty." What an incredible picture--one that I had never stopped to think of before as the words always seem to mindlessly fall from my lips.

What does it mean to dwell? Webster's dictionary says that to dwell is to live as a permanent resident.  To exist.  To fasten ones attention toward something or someone.  I began thinking today, on what it is that I dwell.  Is it the Lord?  I sure hope so, but unfortunately, more often than not I'm afraid that my mind is dwelling elsewhere--relationships, provision, the "what's nexts" in life.

I love not only the thought of dwelling in the Most High but that as a result one will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. Again, what a beautiful picture.  This though, made me think about the cause and effect of where we direct our attention.  If I dwell in relationships, I will then rest (or rather worry) in the shadow of those relationships.  If I dwell in the provision (or lack of there of) in my life, I will then rest (or find my worth) in the shadow of my provision--and so forth.

Dear friend, where are you dwelling? In what shadow are you resting or not resting? Is it the Most High--the Lord? Or is it something that will leave you feeling empty, disappointed and alone?

I am thankful that tonight as I was driving away from a sweet time with a friend the Lord reminded me that my dwelling place is only in Him.

The Lord is my shelter.  May I dwell in Him.

In His Arms

I fear that I will never be able to adequately convey what has taken place in the last few weeks of my life.  It is true that we are ever-changing--evolving as we learn, grow, fall and get back up.  This state of change seems more pronounced in my life than perhaps ever before.  As I survey my life, so much seems uncertain, unsteady.  As my thoughts linger on the unknown, I stumble on the uneven foundation beneath my tired feet.  I fear that I cannot take another step without falling, landing on my hands and knees.  It is here that I rest, unable to stand on my own two feet--unable to walk.  Then suddenly I am captivated, not by my failure, but by the indescribable beauty of the one who is bending down to pick me up.  My Father--my gentle, loving Father.  With concern in His eyes and a familiar quiet-passion in His expression, He picks me up.  Gently He surveys my hurts, taking note of each one with care.  Then He looks me in the eye--tears in His.  He smiles a tender smile as He pulls me close to His chest. His steady breathing calms my spirit and quickly I find my weight resting on Him. Then as a father would rock his hurting child, my Father begins to sway with me in His arms.  This, dear friend, is indescribable peace--one that can never be experienced outside of faith in the Father.

Without God I am--nothing, sinful, broken, prideful, ugly, selfish, lazy, flawed, self-absorbed, bitter, jealous, hateful.  My God is everything, without sin, complete, humble, beautiful, selfless, disciplined, perfect, passionate about His children, forgiving, loving, kind.  Praise God that as I come to Him, the sacrifice of Jesus covers me.  All of the dark, unsightly stains are covered.  All of the fear, failure, inability, impure thoughts--covered.  Not only does He cover my past and my present but He has also covered my future mistakes.  Praise be to Him!


It is true that in my humanity I will always fail.  Praise God that I have forgiveness in Him.  I may not know what tomorrow will bring.  Praise God that He has gone before me.


...And just as a hurt little child trusts the familiar, comforting arms of their father--I trust You, Oh God.

The Simple Things

There is something about sitting in your quiet office, the day for before a long weekend--Miles Davis playing softly in the background, a hot cup of English Breakfast Blend warming your throat as cooler weather has returned, your favorite flannel shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to keep from hiding your hands.  The perfect opportunity to contemplate life--it's meaning.

Today, I am thankful for The Lord and His favor--and for Miles Davis and flannel shirts.  It's the big things.  It's the simple things.

Willing myself to contentment?

“Whatever we are waiting for - peace of mind, contentment, grace, the inner awareness of simple abundance - it will surely come to us, but only when we are ready to receive it with an open and grateful heart.” - Sarah Ban Breathnach

There is great danger in trusting in your own resolve.  This is true regardless of what you have resolved to do.  Be it making wise choices, resisting temptation or even having contentment, if you are leaning on your own determination at some point you will come up short.  This is something that I was reminded of today.  After having had a conversation with a dear friend last night about the Lord being our satisfaction, I found myself today lacking contentment.  I was saddened not by what I had but what I lacked.  As a sweet friend sat with me and listened to me ramble about my lack of contentment she gently reminded me of words that had come from my own lips just four months prior.  As I remember them, “The Lord must be your family, your Father, your portion.”  Remembering that in Him, I lack nothing.  

It is sobering to realize that even as I seek the Lord, I find myself, more often than not seeking Him out of my own resolve.  This “I can do this” attitude can be quite dangerous  as I find myself trusting in my own abilities to accomplish something instead of giving my all to Him.  When will I learn?

I love the Lord’s creative ways of getting my attention.  This morning before I was even aware of this frustration, I picked up Jen Hatmaker’s newest book “Seven” and read the words to a familiar song.

I believe You’re my healer.

I believe You are all I need.

I believe You’re my portion.

I believe You’re more than enough for me.

Jesus You’re all I need.

As my eyes took in each word with care, my spirit seemed to groan in agreement “YES!  You, Oh Lord, are all I need.” --And yet, somehow, in the span of seven hours this truth seemed to slip my mind.  It’s moments like this that I am grateful for the Lord’s mercy.  I was humbled also, only moments after expressing my discontent, with a sermon on stewardship.  Yes, the pastor’s intent was the importance of being good stewards of our time and money but one thing he said stuck with me.  “If you are not content with what you have, you will not be content with what you want.”  How true.  How often have I longed for something only to receive it and it not fill the void I was hoping it would?  Our ONLY satisfaction is in Christ.

Hear me say this, it is okay to struggle.  In our struggle the Lord can teach us a multitude of things.  Today I realized how often I trust in my own ability rather than giving myself to Him.  I am reminded, He is faithful.

“Father, forgive me for offering you my trinkets--for leaving my best intentions, abilities or gifts at your feet as if to say, ‘look, this is what I can do for you.’  You Lord, deserve things much greater than my poor attempt at coming to you in my own will.  Father, may I come to you poor in spirit, with an empty cup, ready to be filled with you.  You Father, are my portion.  Here I am, here’s my life.  Have all of me.”

The Trauma Room

When I was a child one of my favorite pass-times was to play doctor.  I had a black Fisher Price medical bag complete with the working stethoscope and I thought I was set to fix the world.  Here I was six years old, innocent, with a colorful imagination--nothing could stop me. It is fun to think back to wonderful, lighthearted memories and smile at my naivety.  Imagine though, what if, having no other experience, I was thrown into a crowded ER with sick and dying people--my only instructions ‘Heal as many as you can’.  It wouldn’t take long before I would fail miserably, lacking knowledge, equipment and maturity to handle each case.  I would fail, not because my intentions were wrong but because I was not equipped to handle the situation.

Like playing doctor in a trauma unit, I think we sometimes approach life’s spiritual trauma unit in the same way.  Overflowing with lost and dying souls we walk in with our Fisher Price bags and think a couple bandaids will heal those dying of cancer. What an absurd idea!  Everyone knows that slapping on a bandaid won’t heal cancer.  Then why is it that we assume we can just get by when it comes to reaching the lost?  

Imagine also if you went to the doctor and while you were in the exam room you noticed his diploma on the wall.  As he began the exam you mentioned it to him and he admitted  that he barely graduated and only did the bare minimum to get by.  Who would you prefer examine you--the doctor who just got by or a doctor who worked tirelessly in order to make the most of his educational opportunities?

It is time to wake up.  This is real life.  We can no longer approach the lost and dying with an unequipped, barely-skating by attitude.  Just like a doctor would not walk into an operating room with a Fisher Price kit, we cannot be casual in reaching the lost.  We must be intentional and “always prepared to give an answer to anyone who asks for a reason for the hope that we have.”  So put away the doctor kit, that is for children.  Take pride in the knowledge of Him.  Most importantly honor God in how you approach Him, His kingdom and this world.  

“Father, may we lay our childish games of pretend aside and become aware of the urgency of so many lost and dying in separation from you.  May we no longer casually live our lives but may we put you and your will first.  Father, let it be.”