Author Archives: emily

About emily

I love home in all the ways. I love being content and still pushing ahead to more. I love fresh air and how it makes me realize I'm so small in this great, created universe.

grace on the wind

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I think God’s glory and grace are like a blooming tree in spring.

There’s a tree that’s the source of the palest pink petals, and of otherworldly scent, and everyone knows where all of it’s coming from. But then the petals fly away into the wind, fall to the ground, and cover sidewalks and cars, so that everything else looks like it might be growing those petals too. Everything else looks just a little bit similar to the tree because the petals cover them.

And I think we’re like the covered things. We get to share in God’s grace in this life – we breathe, we love, we give, because of this grace. And we get to share in God’s glory in this life – He made us in His image, and gave us some of His characteristics – passion, creativity, a sense of justice, anger, affection, joy. So sometimes, someone might look at you and think you resemble God, but it’s just because He’s put some of His grace and glory on you and into you.

Without those petals, you’d just be the sidewalk or the grass, and then nobody could mistake you for a cherry tree. Without the petals, I don’t think we actually be breathing right now.

What a sweet gift, to be clothed in grace, to resemble Christ in our lives, so we can show people the source of all this glory. It doesn’t come from or end with us. There’s a tree, from which comes all our life and hope.

Today I found my car sprinkled heavily with these little pink kisses, and when I opened the door, some flew inside, and when I drove, I could see them in the mirror, wafting off behind me to grace other drivers with whimsy and beauty. I smiled; I couldn’t help it. And maybe I could be a little like that – floating lightly through life to give others a glimpse, a bit of grace on the wind.

look up, soul

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It sounds silly but I’m starting to read Scripture looking for God, not for my next assignment. I’m trying to take myself out of the picture for a minute. I’ve been reading through Isaiah, which can confound me every time, but since I’ve been looking for God, I’ve seen so much in these chapters. I might not understand what’s happening in the prophecies and stories, but I have a clear picture of who God is and what He is like, and this leads me straight into prayer, which is really where I need to be.

So I thought I’d share a glimpse into what this looks like, in the event that it is at all helpful or insightful for you. I’ve written a conversation that I had with God one day. He’s in bold italics, and I’m in regular type.

…………..

Lord, what did you wake me up to do today?

Trust me.

How do I trust you?

Believe what I say about Myself.

[What I found in Isaiah 26: 

source of salvation

source of peace

everlasting

immovable

trustworthy

all-powerful

just

righteous

majestic

loving

passionate

completer of our works

the only living God

glorified

source of life and resurrection

wrathful

Then I thought about myself again.]

Am I any of those? Even “loving” and “passionate” make me question if I really am.

These properties belong to God alone. Soul, hear and listen and learn – why tremble at what life brings when your God is the source of salvation? What shall you fear? Where else will you go? Be still, my heart, and know that He is God. He will neither abandon nor condemn you. But He will raise you to new life every new day. Will you not give over your fears, your wounds, your despair?

Will you trust Me?

…………..

See, I didn’t get very far. He said the same thing at the beginning and the end of the conversation. But He was patient, wasn’t He? He gave me exactly what I needed: more of Himself. To see Him. I didn’t need a next action; I needed another glimpse of Him.

So often, we want answers, direction, clarity. So often, God chooses to give us just what we need, instead.

#lookup

a prayer to the God of my life

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Lord, while I am overwhelmed moment by moment, you remain in control. You remain fully capable of meeting my needs, of saving me, of healing me. I need such healing. I can’t hold it together, while that’s what you’re doing all the time.¹

I can’t habit myself out of my brokenness. I can’t make myself better by changing my behavior.

You have no shortage of everything I lack. Peace. Grace. Hope. Joy. Perspective. Self-control. Patience. Faithfulness. Understanding. Wellness. Goodness. Holiness. All the ways you call me to be. This all is found only in you. I can only model myself after you.

And yet, I can’t. I’m amazed by how often I feel beyond fixing. Beyond help and healing. And I kind of want to be done having to get up every day and try again.

But you’re showing me: I feel beyond hope most when I’m looking at myself. And that’s when I’m also most right about it, because I don’t have you in my sight. And without you, the picture is grim. But you draw my eyes upward, slowly pulling my gaze out of its fixation on me, and you make me see you, being just right there, right here, eager to bring me to yourself, where there is only shalom.

And with you in it, the picture is grace. With you at the center, and me at the periphery, things finally start to make sense, as you put them in order.

So. This healing. I guess it has to begin with worship. Because if I don’t understand who you are, how can I trust you to manage my chaos, my burden? If I don’t see you as the biggest and awesomest and lovingest person there ever was, why would I waste my time? As it is, I’m wasting my time NOT looking at you. I’m making my back problems worse by hunching in on myself, looking for answers anywhere else. And I’m losing light.

But you. You. You, I can tell, you’re taking me by the shoulders, by way of internal crisis, and shaking me awake to you. You’re straightening me, tilting my head up. It’s really hard to frown when I’m looking up. It’s really hard to purse my lips. My face itself testifies to the internal reality that when I look up, I’m opening up. My eyes open. My mouth opens, as though ready to receive food and a deep breath.

My eyes open, and I get to see you. And I take you in, your glory, your wonder, and my heart beats faster, and you’ve let me love you. You’ve given me my greatest good – to know you and love you.

And my response now is to bend again, but this time, I’m not hunching. I’m bowing. I’m on my knees. I’m on my face, because all I have is nothing, and I have nothing on which to stand. Nothing to prop me up in your sight. I am nothing, Lord.

So if you want nothing, then here I am. Here I am.

Here I am.

Yours.

By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. [Psalm 42:8]

 

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¹ Colossians 1:17, Hebrews 1:3