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Nothing

Just so you know…

There is nothing—

Nothing

You ever need to do for the Father to be proud of you

Nothing

~You could flunk geometry twice

~Graduate with a 2.0 GPA

~Date dumb people

~Pledge to love the wrong ones

~Quit jobs without notice

~Get numerous speeding tickets

~Run out of gas perpetually

~Always arrive late

~Burn the dinner

~Forget to make dinner

~Miss your child’s class party

~Hold a grudge

~Wall up your heart

~Stay in your comfort zone

~Self-medicate

~Allow dishes to pile up

~And laundry to go undone

~Spend more money than you make

~Never finish any of the books you start

~Never make time for the in-laws

~Forget birthdays

~Make “To Do” lists during church

~And hate the very people who love you the most

You could do all this—

And the Father would still be proud of you—

Not for what you did or didn’t do…

But for WHO you are.

And you are His Beloved.

On the journey with you,
lk

Are you striving to earn God’s favor?

What expectations of yourself do you need to let go?

Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey.

Relevant Worship

Amazing Grace by the Celtic Woman  {Beautiful}

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsCp5LG_zNE&ob=av2e

My Dear by Bethel Music/The Loft Sessions (Hunter Thompson)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nf7fOnsHW74&feature=fvsr

Your Grace is Enough by Chris Tomlin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GI5Yiyv5O0s

 Reflective Scripture

God’s grace is enough.

2 Corinthians 12:9

In His Gaze

Just a girl in pigtails—I longed to be loved.

His eyes locked on mine—my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to look away—but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. There was something I needed to see—something I needed to feel.

Hold My gaze

I looked deeply and saw the lenses of His eyes change. I could see His heart looking back at me. I looked away unable to bare the intensity any longer. His love was too deep too, too powerful for a girl in pigtails.

The next morning He came near again. The music of His heart swirled in the air between us. Standing before me I heard Him whisper.

Hold My gaze

Tears came in floods. I was just a girl in pigtails. How dare I look into His eyes—let alone hold His gaze?

He said nothing. Placed His hands on my scrawny shoulders and waited. His touch brought a surge of warmth within me. There was something He needed me to see—something He wanted me to feel.

Courage met deep longing and I looked up and held His gaze. Within a moment the intensity of His gaze became like laser beams into my soul. His eyes said one thing—

I love you

The truth of His love penetrated me instantly as deep powerful waves rushed through every part of me.

His laser beam eyes wrote Beloved Daughter across my identity.
I was secure. I was loved.

It was something I needed to see—something I needed to feel.

I saw it in His eyes, and felt it in my soul.

His arms opened wide and I fell into Him. Clinging to Him as a girl in pigtails would do. Love embraced me. Love consumed me.

Wrapped in my Father’s embrace I knew who I was. I knew where I belonged—

In my Father’s gaze.

Every moment of every day we have a choice--whose gaze will you hold today?

On the journey with you,

lk

Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey.

Relevant Worship

Beloved by Kari Jobe
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3c9oi5xNIpo

How He Loves by Kim Walker-Smith

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoC1ec-lYps

Reflective Scripture

The Lord God will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17 NIV

It's Not Enough

My fingers grip the tiny plastic cup. I stare deep into the crimson. Silence thunders through my hollow soul as I swirl translucent red round and round. Communion compels reflection over the wellness of one’s soul. Sacred are the moments of soul-baring introspection.

“Remember His death,” they say, yet I can barely remember His presence. If life comes from death, then do I dare to hope this cup bears that in which will bring me life…and awaken my soul?

I feel death—my own. I move about, but feel death lurking within me. This soul, dark and vacant, void of the voice, heart, and breath of the One who claims to be my God. The One who promised His presence would go

with me—always.

I can not lie. I want this cup to be His Spirit flowing afresh within me. I want this store-bought juice poured from a recycled jug to supernaturally flow under my skin through my veins, so that I may know and feel He is real.

If I bring this cup to my lips—will He come to me? Can not this holy and reverent sacrament provoke Him to draw near? Is there not anything I can do to conjure up a sign of His presence? Oh how I long for His closeness—to feel the warmth of His breath on me.

I part my lips and drink from the cup.

This tiny splash of crimson runs over my tongue,
And down my throat.
It travels deeper—

As He empties His cup into me.

I pause to feel it drop deeper—

But it does not.

I look to the cup.

Empty.

Clinging to the bottom of clear plastic a lone drop taunts me. This one drop is the “more” I desperately crave to fill the emptiness. Yet, no matter what I do it refuses to leave the cup and drop into my mouth. The cup had no more to pour out.

My mouth touched by the crimson—yet my soul remains empty.

How can this be?

When His cup was emptied—for me?

Desperation wells up within me…

And a frightening thought dares to fleet through my mind—

It’s not enough

I wince as this mere thought slaps the face of the One I call Lord. The One who prayed as sweat beads burst into droplets of blood upon His brow. The One who pushed through the pain to do His Father’s will.

But is not this cup His will?

Is not the renewing of my soul His will?
Is it not the will of the Father to restore me through His Son’s blood?

Isn’t it?

My heart numb from disappointment. My footing shifts nervously on this Rock I stand. Although the Rock itself is solid—immovable—my feet scramble to keep from slipping off. If I believe this cup is not enough—who or what will fill the void?

Oh no. God. Where have You gone?

Methodically I stack one empty cup into another and set it carefully under my chair. The music swells and flows throughout the sanctuary as I lower myself to sit, rest, and push away the disappointment. I pretend to ignore the inner struggle of a soul untouched and longing for more. I can not keep my feet firmly planted on this Rock. The eyes of my heart go in and out of focus as I will myself to stop slipping off the Rock. Doubt and faith battle for my attention. I kneel down to touch the Rock with my hands—to steady myself—as I wait.

Faith speaks:

He will not leave me. He promised.

Doubt shouts:

Get used to the emptiness.

Please God. Please.

Dare I ask for more?

If loaves and fish can multiple to feed thousands—can not the tiny splash of 8% tart-tasting juice increase into gallons if my soul needed it. My soul needs it God. As I hang on to this Rock, I choose to believe even a single drop clinging to the bottom of a tiny plastic cup can become an ocean wave of His glory rushing over me—making all things new.

I believe. I really do.

I have to believe. If I don’t—all is hopeless.

A voice booms through the microphone.

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably MORE than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us…”

More?

He can do MORE than I ask or imagine?

I rise to my feet. My soul stirred awake. It was as if God Himself reached in where the tiny splash stopped short and thrust the crimson to flow deeper and deeper until it reached my soul. And there, in my cavernous and neglected space, His cup turned over to flood my dry and depleted soul with His Living Water.

For a moment I am swept into His presence and I know He is near. One moment blends into the next and the service continues and eventually ends. Plastic cups are collected and tossed to the trash, but I have hope in His promise—

He has MORE to give.

On the Journey with you,

lk

Do you have a void you long to fill?
Who or what fills your longing and emptiness?
Do you believe God wants to reveal His presence to you?

Here or somewhere…be real. Share your journey. 

Relevant Worship

Come to Me by BethelMusic/The Loft Sessions (Jenn Johnson)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5R54Hbjv70c&ob=av2e

Fall Afresh by Bethel Music/The Loft Sessions (Jeremy Riddle)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pykLABoAR84

Agnus Dei by Michael W. Smith {listen to the very end}

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPBmFwBSGb0&feature=share

Reflective Scripture

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. Galatians 3:20-21

No Pretending

I will not pretend.

The inkwell is dangerously close to being dried up.

How do I write when the ink is no more?

How does the pen flow with words to affect hope and healing when there is nothing to give?

I will not pretend.

If I believe this is writer’s block…

Then this—all this—is only about words on a screen.

It is more than that.

It’s about my soul journey.

I will not pretend.

I am the one empty…not the inkwell.

And yet, He knows this.

And I know He cares—deeply for me.

So what is He waiting for?

Why not fill me now, Lord?

I will not pretend.

I struggle with this.

I really do.

On the journey with you,

lk

How about you?

How do you fill the well of your soul when you feel depleted and empty?

Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey

Hope Arises

My eyes open to the morning glow of a new day casting light into my room. I lay still blinking back the sleep. I feel the quiet of my soul. Something has changed.
What is it?

Am I…

Numb?

No.

Detached?

No.

Wait…

Is this peace?

Maybe.

Hope?

Definitely.

Hope—I thought I would never feel you again. But here you are. Settling back in where the stuff of life pushed out.

And for the first time in a long time I believe everything is going to be okay…

...I believe I am going to be okay.

As the sun rises in your day, I pray Hope also rises within you.

Today let this melody of hope wash over you and together let’s us walk in His promise.

On the journey with you,

lk

Walk in the Promise by Jeremy Riddle (Bethel Music)

Our souls wait in silence
In rest and in quiet for You, spirit
In trust and dependence

We walk in the promise of You coming
With hope and healing in Your wings
With fire and with wind, You fall on us again

Here we are waiting for this house to be shaken
For the boldness to carry Your name to the nations
Your signs and Your wonders to go now before us

For the weight of Your glory to rest as we lift You up
We lift You up, be magnified in us

The Bench

The door flung wide open. A little boy ushered by his teacher walked into the school office. Floods of tears accompanied his uncontrollable sobs as his chest heaved to catch his breath.

His face red and wet from crying he took his seat on the edge of the bench. He was condemned to time-out. My heart broke as I watched his tears stream down his face.

There he sat his head sinking lower and lower as the minutes ticked by. His 5-year old shoulders hunched over in attempts to weep in private.

His offense?

He didn’t obey.

He wasn’t responsible.
He couldn’t focus.

My heart broke for him. I desperately wanted to go to him. Not to lecture, but instead validate life is hard, but there is grace. I sat from afar holding him with my eyes as he cried it all out…

All the frustrations,

the pressure,
the expectations,
the fears,
the disappointment,

…and the shame.

I knew just how he felt.

Really, it might as well been me. Sitting there on that bench with my shoulders hunched in crying it all out. Even today I too have been at fault for disobedience, irresponsibility and the inability to focus.

But must he— or I —cry alone?

Who will come alongside this boy in life to validate his heart and tell him of the great grace there is for him? Who will accept him even in his lack?

Who will accept me even in my lack?

Please…

If you see me on the bench crying and my head hung low in shame for the wrong I’ve done or presently doing—please…

Please don’t let me cry alone.

Don’t leave me there on the lonely bench to sink deeper into shame.

Come to me. Hold me. Wipe my tears with grace. And sing to me of the One who loves me in spite of what I do—or don’t do.

And friend, I will do the same for you.

On the journey with you,

lk

~What are you dealing with today that you need to just “cry” it out?

~Do you have someone safe who will accept you no matter what?
~How deeply connected are you to an authentic community?
Thank you for sharing your journey.

Relevant Worship

How He Love by Kim Walker-Smith (Jesus Culture)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoC1ec-lYps

Reflective Scripture

2 Corinthians 12:9
“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”

Dead Leaves

Leaves brown and brittle crumble through the Blonde Boy’s fingers.

Tiny broken pieces float silently to their grave.

His hands reach for more leaves to crunch in his grasp.

There was no horror in watching the dead become dust.

The pale coloring and parched foliage gave evidence to the end of life.

Everyone knew it was time—

Time to die.

Time to return to the earth.
And begin again.

One lone leaf green and vibrant sits at my feet.

The Blonde Boy’s youthful eyes spot it.

“This one won’t crumble.” I tell him.

There it lay green—full of life surrounded by the brittle and broken.

Life rests among the dead.

It fell before it’s time—

The boy’s hand inch closer.

“It’s green,” I remind him.

Life still thrives in it—today. Even just for today.

In spite of my lesson on colors and chlorophyll he reaches out.

He needs to touch, experience, and know the truth with his own hands.

His small hand squeezes around life.

I wait for his hand to open for the green foliage to return to shape.

But it doesn’t.

Instead…it crushes to a thousand pieces and falls flat to the ground.

How could this be?

It wasn’t time.

It still had life in it…

There at my feet life and death lie together.

It wasn’t right.

How many others had the life squeezed from them too soon. Even in these last couple weeks?

A little’s boy’s mother
A friend’s boss
A young daughter
A friend’s favorite uncle
A co-worker’s aunt
A student’s teacher
A friend's father


We knew their time would come—but not now. Not today. Not this year.

Its just not right.

“Why?" spills out of my heart, interrupting the prayer of peace for the ones who mourn.

If it is true He holds all things in His hands…Does He also hold death?

Can we trust Him to care for the heartbroken husband as he cares for his young son— alone? Can we trust Him to comfort the ache of a mother as she buries her little girl? Can we trust Him even in death?

Can we trust Him when He says it is—

Time to die.
Time to return to the earth.
And begin again—with Me.

Can we trust Him to bring life to the dead?

My friends, I don’t always understand, but something—Someone urges me to trust…even in death.

God, stretch out Your grace across the many who mourn and say good-bye to loved ones.

This blog is dedicated in the memory of:

Elaine, a beautiful wife and mother of a 2-year old son,

Phil –who inspired my friend to live life to the fullest,

Little Emma whom I never met, but know if I did her 6-year old heart would have captured mine.

My friend’s favorite uncle-Joey,

Margaret, educator of many children,
Lydia's dear father,

And the beloved aunt of my husband’s boss.

Although I never met your loved ones—I felt your grief this week.
Praying comfort over you all. ~Laura

Songs to Comfort

You Wouldn’t Cry for Me Today by Mandisa
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bFOdA52sjFA

No More Tears by David Nevue
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ALoj9ob6Os

Reflective Scriptures

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die."  John 11:25 NIV
We look at this Son and see the God who cannot be seen. We look at this Son and see God's original purpose in everything created. For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels—everything got started in Him and finds its purpose in Him. Jesus was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment.  Colossians 1:15-17 The Message

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life.”  John 14:6 NIV

Something Brand-New

A new year brings with it the hope of new beginnings.

God is about to do something brand-new.

I can feel it deep within me. I believe it for me—and I believe it for you.

Please know as you read the below text that I have declared this ancient holy breathed promise over you…my companions along the journey.

This is what God says,
the God who builds a road right through the ocean,
who carves a path through pounding waves,

The God who summons horses and chariots and armies—
they lie down and then  . . .  c a n 't   g e t   u p;
they're snuffed out like so many candles:

"Forget about what's happened;
don't keep going over old history.

Be alert, be present.

I'm about to do something brand-new.

It's bursting out!

Don't you see it?

There it is!

I'm making a road through the desert,
rivers in the badlands.

Wild animals will say 'Thank you!'
—the coyotes and the buzzards—

Because I provided . . .

water in the desert,
rivers through the sun-baked earth,
Drinking water for the people I chose,
the people I made especially for myself,
a people custom-made to praise me.   Isaiah 43:16-21 The Message

Trust Me, Beloved. I am about to do something brand-new.

Believing with you and for you,

lk

What are you believing for in this new year?

Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey.

Relevant Worship

Hope’s Anthem by Bethel Church

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crPyH-68KZU

Our God by Chris Tomlin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlA5IDnpGhc&feature=related

What Faith Can Do by Kutless

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7elxC8LXfzE

Reflective Scripture

Isaiah 43:16-21 The Message (posted above)

Writing the Mess

I am just an ordinary woman wanting to make a difference in the world—

Somebody’s world.

I choose to be real and vulnerable for someone—

Anyone—

to be impacted by the extreme and relentless love of God.

My journey is no different than yours.

It’s messy.

In a life marked with both wrestling and surrendering to Jesus,

I find purpose.

I write of God’s pursuit to fully capture my heart.

My journey is no different than yours.

It’s messy.

It’s real.

I am just an ordinary woman wanting to make a difference in the world—

Your world.

lk

Knee Deep in Manure

The blaze of the fire warmed the room. Rich green garland dressed the mantle as ornate stockings hung expectantly. In the corner stood a magnificent pine tree adorned with twinkle lights and shiny red ornaments.

These were the signs of Christmas.

Yet somehow this familiar scene brought restlessness to my soul. I dared to ask the unthinkable.

Is this really Christmas?

Is my soul satisfied from the aroma of pine swirling in the air, the flickering of lights, or the brightly wrapped packages under the tree? I wrestled to find Christmas in candy canes precariously hanging from branches and Santa Claus staring at me from the fireplace.

Is this Christmas?

Climbing into my car, my heart raced with desperate need to seek contentment for my soul. Where can I find Christmas? For miles I drove—my heart searching the sights around me. Passing streets adorned with wreaths, Santa’s ringing bells, and tree lots.

Is this Christmas?

My heart grew expectant as my search led me to a local farm. My soul anticipated discovery as I quietly walked the dirt path through stalls of animals.

And then I saw her.

I. Couldn’t. Stop. Staring.

All four legs of this dairy cow were standing in none other than wet, soggy manure—the stench intolerable. Devouring every last bit of hay from the dirty steel trough, she paused to lift her contented face towards me. Her gaze told me she knew what I was seeking.

And it was in those moments I not only found myself—I found Christmas.

I also stand in the muck and mire of my brokenness.

Yet if I lean in, like she does, I can hear the Christ Child call to me. The God who rose from His throne, left heaven, and stepped into our world—naked and vulnerable. It is this God I hear wooing me to draw near and feast on His goodness and grace from His humble trough-like crib.

And when I do—I find what I was looking for.

This, my friend, is Christmas. 

lk

Will you lean into the Christ Child today?

Here or somewhere...be real. Share your journey.

Sounds for the Soul

The Gift by David Nevue

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IAgw-yQCtE

Scriptures

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. Psalm 40:2 NIV 1984

The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Luke 2:10-12

Hopeful Again

This week’s post is straight from my practice journal. This time my oldest son would accompany me. The timer set for 15 minutes and we began our separate assignments. He was to write sixteen spelling words into sentences for homework and I was to craft those same spelling words into a blog. Writing without lifting my pen these third grade words took on a life of their own. When the buzzer sounded I only added the last line and have left it as is--unpolished. By the way, my son was done with his sentences in only five minutes. J (spelling words are bolded) The unexpected surprise was not only was this fiction—but I think I know that little girl…

Hopeful Again

How do I begin?

How does one retell a story of an unhappy girl who found life through the friendly Farmer?

Her life was desolate, desperate, and despairing. But what He said…caused her to feel hopeful.

Hope was a foreign thought and feeling. She, the scrawny girl with the scraggly pig tails. The one always shamed and treated unfair by the cross Mrs. Rally and deemed unimportant to most of the townspeople. Unlike the others, this same girl was accepted by the Farmer.

She remembers that day vividly.

The sky darkened by heavy clouds pouring out buckets of rain to the town. The dirt roads were wet, and soon her boots, the ones worn through at the toe, were splattered with mud. Even the hem of her dress was covered with mud.

The rain and mud would not stop her. She promised the town seamstress to deliver a package. Mrs. Rally said if she was a good helper she would give her one quarter—a shiny one. One whole quarter would give her milk and oats for a week. She must be careful as to not slip in the mud and drop the package. She walked slowly. The rain pounded down on her. Clothes soaked through. She was almost at her destination—the Farmer’s house. Just a few steps from His porch lightening flashed and peals of thunder shook the sky.

It frightened the poor girl and she jumped at the noise. Sadly, she lost her footing and landed in a pot-hole—filled with mud.

Unhurt, she stood up. Tears mixed in with the raindrops as she reached to pick up the package from the mud. Silently she wept. The package wet, soggy—completely ruined. She stood there for what seemed like hours as the rain pelted her skin.

“How will I ever remake this package and make it new again for the Farmer?”

She thought of the shiny quarter. The milk. The oats. She wouldn’t have any of it. Only be shamed once again by Mrs. Rally.

The porch light suddenly lit up the porch and the door creaked open.

She looked down. Pretending to be invisible. Pretending it was just a dream.

The Farmer spoke. “What have we here, Little One?”

His voice was kind. He gently took the package from her grip.

She dared to look up.

And when she did…

She saw Him looking at her...

with kind eyes and a smile.

And she knew.

Everything was going to be okay.

I need to know everything is going to be okay…how about you?

Lord, let us see Your eyes and hear Your gentle voice and know…You are near to pick up the mess and make everything new again. 

On the journey with you...  lk

Relevant Worship

Embrace (It’s All Gonna Be Okay) by Jake Hamilton

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VphBebphKLY

Reflective Scripture

The LORD watches over all who love him. Psalm 145:20

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18

Even This?

I ran my finger over the inscription of the silver heart. Those words—I swear I could hear them mocking me—even laughing as my soul wrestled with its meaning.

G r a t i t u d e    i n   a l l    t h a t   i s

What is that supposed to mean?

On a better day it would have been a sweet sentiment—one quickly forgotten. But that day wasn’t good. I suppose a “good” Christian would accept the seemingly kind cliché and take it as a sign to praise the Lord through the valleys of life. But I don’t want to be a good Christian—just a real one.

I sneered at the words in disgust and abandoned the pendant to the sales clerk. But those words, already impressed on my soul, would never leave me.

Gratitude in ALL that IS?

As the days followed the He urged me to find the gift in each day—everyday. Tell me—how am I to find the gift in dark moments and seasons of life?

How does anyone?

I wrestle for the gift as the First Boy defiantly ignores my direction. He says nothing, but his eyes tell me ‘no, never, and I will always hate you.’

Gratitude in ALL that IS?

Even this?

The Blonde Boy hurls a pinecone at me. He is angry for my thoughtlessness of putting both open and closed pinecones into one single bag. Seriously.

Gratitude in ALL that IS?

Even this?

Even when…

            a car slams into mine?

When my child is sick?

When there is a water leak?

When my son gets picked on at school?

When the ledger shows more red than black?

When a friend rejects me?

When there is no hot water for days?

When business is molasses slow?

When the child can’t keep any food down?

When I boil pots of water to wash the dishes

and wash soiled sheets in cold?

When ants greet me in the food pantry

and when they surprise me in the loft?

When my boys won’t get out of bed in the morning,

and when they won’t get into bed at night?

When the plumber gives the bill?

When my mother-in-law’s health is threatened,

and I hear my husband holding back the tears?

When the car bumper is cracked?

When my neck and back begin to ache?

When no one takes the trash out?

When the bank account is drained?

When shame wants to reside within me?

When expectations hound me?

When the smallest one runs away from me—

                        down the street

                                    and around the corner?

Even in this?

Gratitude in ALL that IS?

God I don’t like what IS right now. Just saying.

Thank you for the grace to be real and not have it all figured out.

On the journey with you… lk

How do you embrace gratitude in all that is in your life? Here or somewhere…be real. Share your journey.

Home

The following post comes out of my practice journal—a plain notebook that pleads to be true to the journey of life—messy, flawed, and raw. The writing prompt came with instruction: write the first thoughts that come to mind for two full minutes on the topic of Home. The pen must be in constant movement. No stops or pauses. As much as I would like to edit and polish it up for this post—I leave it imperfect—much like my journey…lk 

Home

What is home? Acceptance. Where I am loved for who I am and not what I do.

Home. Always inviting. Always welcoming. Welcoming me—all of me. Where is home? It changes from season to season. And even moment to moment. Home. Where the space in my soul is overwhelmed with contentment, peace, and fulfillment.

Oh, how I long for home.

Every moment. Every moment is a choice to come home where my soul meets with Him. My God. He is my home.

He is my home.

lk

Now it’s your turn.

In the comment section write what home is to you…and watch what happens. Not what the letters form on the screen, but the movement in your heart.

Here or somewhere…be real. Share your journey.

Relevant Music

Home by David Nevue

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PARMaE8d1Y

Seeking Sanctuary

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13

He calls to you...

Sit with Me.
Find sanctuary with Me.

The hurry and rush to do more, buy more, be more never ceases unless you slow down, my friend.

He is calling to you...

Sit with Me.
Find sanctuary with Me.

Can one seek sanctuary in the midst of crammed calendars, turkey stuffing, and midnight shopping?
Yes, dear friend. Yes.

Slow. Pause. Stop.

And sit. With Him. He is your sanctuary.
Can you feel His breath on you?

Can you hear His whispers to you?
Breathe Him in.
When you seek sanctuary the lists, troubles, the hurts, and grief lighten...and simple joy comes.

He calls to you.

He will not relent.

Sit with Me.
Find sanctuary with Me.

May your soul find sanctuary and well up with overflowing gratitude for all that is..and for who He is.

Seeking Sanctuary,

lk

Where do you need His sanctuary this week?

Here or somewhere...be real.

Share your journey.

Playlist for Seeking Sanctuary

Here in Your Presence by New Life Worship

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJrHpESAYPQ

The More I Seek You by Kari Jobe
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZfsxydxEXA

Carry Your Name by Christy Nockels (Passion)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzPukrs6cwg

Abide in Me by Alberto & Kimberly Rivera
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGM7BFw4jJU


Reflective Scripture

Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name. Psalm 100:4

My Confession

Confession.  

I attended a writer’s conference—and didn’t write.

I couldn’t. The words—the “right” words just never came. I fought hard to find the words…but I never did. It would seem that I gave up. But it was more like I gave in.

See it wasn’t about what I could do for Him. It was about what He wanted to give to me.

I tried to work for Him—but He didn’t want me to. I couldn’t earn what He wanted to give. The challenge was to receive from Him. When did the simple act of receiving become a challenge? Strange, I know. But I am learning to lean into Him. Not just when I need or want something, but because He needs and wants me.

This blog is my journey—a bit messy, and today, unedited. I thank you for your grace.

I invite you to listen to the music clip below. Not with your ears, but with your soul.

In the words of my dear friend:

“May the words of this song pour over you like oil.”

Let it pour.
lk

Will you give in to the challenge and just receive from Him?

The More I Seek You by Kari Jobe

Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey.

Yield

I open the window to allow the fresh air to blow through the house.

I find a seat on the couch and the First Boy plops down next to me. He clutches a pencil in his hand as my fingers fly over the computer keys. Shoulder to shoulder we write. He hums a tune as he works his spelling words into vowel patterns. I pause as I try to give voice to the heart of this post. He sets his pencil down to clap the rhythm of syllables. Deliberate and purposeful his hands come together to the beat of words.

Peace, piece, our, hour, cent, and scent—all words for life.

My spirit pauses to listen in…

He claps to the rhythm of   L I F E.

The open window becomes a passageway to my heart. I hear the leaves of the trees rustling even clapping in the wind…

Do I clap to the rhythm of life?

Or do I will for the tempo to change?

Now the Blonde Boy catches my attention. He sits on his knees sinking lower and lower into the floor. He leans into his art taped to the wall. Black marker in hand he pens his name in the lower right hand corner—

Writing identity across his creation.

Is that not what our Lord does? Write His name ever so carefully across our lives. Is He not intentional and even deliberate with the picture of our destiny?

The Blonde Boy covers the pen with its cap and wanders over to the open window. He watches in wonder as the curtain transforms into a sail. The wind fills the fabric with its breath. His blue eyes widen as the sail swells. Anticipation lights up his face. I know what he’s thinking—

How high will the sail fly?

How high indeed. How high or low will the Wind take us? I feel the coolness of the breeze fill the room—and I know—our sail will soon change direction.

Will I go where the Wind blows or will I resist with the weight of an anchor?

The bronze fabric balloons high and then whips wildly to the wind. I hear them again—the trees clapping to the rhythm. They know—I know—to trust in the Wind.

lk

Are you yielding to Holy Spirit to lead you? What direction is He taking you in?

Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey.

Reflective Scripture

⁵ Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
⁶ in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight

Proverbs 3:5-6

Relevant Worship

Mighty Breath of God by Jesus Culture

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob5O2ZDQ9Ds

Hello Courage

Art by Sherry Meneley

I lie awake in the dark. And press my eyes shut.

Pretending. Pretending the darkness isn’t creeping into my mind. I try to will the thoughts away. But they don’t.

Stop. Please stop.

Fear must die at some point, right?

I rise to my feet. The morning is dark. Everything dark. When will the sun cast light into my morning—into my soul?



My husband sleeps. I grab my phone—my connection to another world. I send out a distressed message. Please...somebody pray. Tears begin to fall. Hot tears.

“Are you okay?”

It’s my husband. Still in bed he calls to me. He knows I’m not right.

I ’ m   n o t   r i g h t.

I go to him. He pulls me near. I fall into his arms and cry.

No. I sob.

Like a child.

The incomprehensible wailing shakes loud throughout my body. The sounds I make. They are the same when the blonde boy comes to me. Hurting.

“Where does it hurt?” I ask him.

“Everywhere.”

E v e r y w h e r e.

I pull him close. His sobs deepen. He is safe to let it all out. To cry. To hurt. To lean in.

My husband does the same. Holds me close. Now it’s my sobs that deepen. I am safe to let it all out. And cry out like a child.

“I’m so scared”

I wail louder. I can’t stop.

I remember I was five. My hair was golden brown. Long pigtails tied back with yarn. Awake in the night and frightened. Nightmares. Again. Why must fear insist on following me?

And now?

This little girl, a grown woman sobs and weeps deeply because of the fear…she feels—

I feel…e v e r y w h e r e.

“It’s going to be okay.” He rubs my back as more tears escape.

“Read to me.” I tell him. The words come in the voice of a little girl.

Still a little girl.

“Read what?” He asks.

“Psalm 91”

“Why don’t you tell me what it says?” He prods gently. Knowing. He knows the power for me to hear my own voice speak life.

My face wet with tears. The pillow soaked from fright. His arms warm. He waits. I reach into the pockets of my memory…and speak.

“(S)he who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will find rest  in the shadow of the Almighty…because (s)he loves me. I will rescue her. I will save her from trouble.”

Oh, how my mind needs to be rescued…to find rest.

“Do you believe that?” he asks me.

I couldn’t answer.

Could I believe?

I wasn't sure.

My life was dependent upon believing the Son would rise that day.

If He didn’t rise…if His light did not shine into my mind…well, how could I live?

How could I?

My heart tender from the early morning battle, I walked weak through my day—waiting for it to sneak up on me again. Fear. I hate it. How would I face it if, when it came again? Where was the courage to fight? Where?

And then I see it.

Simple words in a photo sent on my phone from a friend. Shouting a message. To me.

Hello Courage

I pause. Hello Courage? I don’t get it.

Have I just knocked on the door of Courage to say, ‘hello it’s time to come out and play’?

or

Is this Someone saying hello to me? As if I were Courage.

I hear it now. I remember.

It’s my name. The name He gave me almost nine years ago.

Courageous One.

I hear Him. He calls me by this name—to remind me who I am.

Hello Courage

I get it.

By calling my name He brings forth the very thing I lack. His hello rescued me and brought me rest.

Fear vanishes. Peace comes. The Son rises within my heart. Even in my doubt.

E v e n   i n   m y   d o u b t.

Because His grace continues…
lk

 Where do you doubt God’s faithfulness? Where do you need the Son to rise today?

Art by Sherry Meneley

 Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey.