My soul ached, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I knew God could, but how? I knelt in front of my antique dresser and sent a silent plea to heaven. As if a light turned on in my heart, I felt hope.
God is enough. The thought comforted me like few others had. He would get me through this a situation beyond my control to fix. This “storm” may linger, and the “lightning” may still crack. But God would be with me through the downpour. I had hope that the sun would break through the clouds again.
A story that haunts me is Jesus’ encounter with a nameless, wealthy young man as he made his final journey toward Jerusalem.
Here was an important civic leader, a youthful climber with a prestige, bearing, and bank account that would have been the envy of many older men in Judea. But there was a hollowness in his chest that led him ever so close to the God adventure of a lifetime.
For all his status and personal wealth, this man had a hungry heart. The gospel of Mark tells us that he ran to Jesus, falling on his knees in the dust before him. You know the story. He asked Jesus what he had to do to inherit eternal life. He knew the commands, and he’d kept them all since he was a boy.
Dolores Rivera had a dream, one that contained a message from God. She dreamed of a pillowcase slowly falling, and its four corners grabbed her attention. Some weeks later, she heard of a town called Dolores, Colorado, a few miles away from a place called the Four Corners.
The Four Corners is a unique location where Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah meet geographically. God called her to go to the Four Corners and pray.
After months of prayer, Dolores saved enough money for an airline ticket to Colorado but was short the funds for a hotel and food for a week. Knowing God would provide, Dolores exercised blind faith and obeyed.
For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and forfeit his soul? Mark 8:36 (ESV)
I stood behind one more servers table, peering into the eyes of a woman I d never met. But I knew our experience would forever change my effectiveness in ministry. It s not a proud moment when you discover, after many years of Christian service, you really weren t serving in the name of Jesus.
Up until a few days before that fateful night, I thought I was ministering the Gospel by merely serving people s physical needs. Then God began asking me if I was just hiding behind the soup ladle, or was I truly giving those I served the full measure of what I had been given?
My daybreak therapy is praying with a pen, recording trials and blessings of yesterday.
King David and I have spent many quiet dawns and silent nights in the Psalms he once composed in caves and pastures. David, the shepherd-king, has been a good mentor, guiding me through the tough times of life, leading me beside still places.
As a teenage scribe, I kept a diary, logging thoughts on my beloved of the week.
Now I write about my Beloved of my everyday in journals filled with naked thoughts on tear crinkled pages, and I emerge strong.
There are times my journal is nothing more than a tattered scrap, recklessly scribbled at a traffic light or jots on a napkin transcribed later to my bound treasured keepsake. Mostly, it s in the pause and ponder times when I come quietly before the Lord to write of His greatness. Then His voice fills the white space.