By Lorilee Guenter

 

Photo by Lorilee Guenter;
Grasslands National Park

In the Psalms we often read a mix of lament and praise. David and others often cry out to God in difficult times. How long oh God, how long will you forsake me? How long must I face this alone? Even as they cry out, their words show they know they are not really alone. They just feel alone.

In Psalm 13:2 David cries, "how long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?" By the end of the song, he will sing the Lord's praise, "for he has been good to me." There's no evidence in this psalm that David's situation has changed yet he trusts.

I wrestle with my thoughts. I cry out, "why Lord why do I have to face betrayal by my own mind, my own body? You created me in reverence with wonderful complexity (Psalm 139) so I can serve you, love you and glorify you. How Lord? How do I do that with a traitorous brain?"

I trust because I know in the depths of who I am, the place the Holy Spirit speaks, I know I am not walking this path alone. I know, but my traitorous humanity tries to convince me that my trust is misplaced. It calls me to turn away, to turn back. It councils me to trust only what I can see.

Like David, I'm learning not to stop at "how long?" But move through to, "even so I trust." I still sit with unchanged circumstances, my body falters, my brain betrays me. Even so I trust.

God is with me in the desert. Jesus spent 40 days in the desert after his baptism. He walked with the Israelites through the wilderness, leading them and teaching them. He walks with me, with us, even in the desert places. He is with us in the wilderness.

How long oh Lord, must I feel dry, ideas withered, stillborn? Challenging me to hide with sorrow for myself and for others. How long Lord, until I learned this lesson and can move on? And yet I trust. The answers don't come and yet I trust because I know I don't walk alone. I trust because the only one who can perfectly keep his promises, says he will be with me. And so in the middle of the storm, I will sing his praises as I trust. The Holy Spirit will walk this road with me.

Lorilee Guenter is a Saskatoon based artist and writer. Her writing stems from the many questions she finds herself pondering and from the things she observes on her wanderings. One such question is how did events she lived through become the subject of history. More of her writing can be found on her Substack.       

                                                                                                                   

M is for Moments by Lorilee Guenter

I sat on a rough log as a gentle breeze formed ripples on the lake in front of me. A song brought tears of grief. As I sat, a pelican appeared swimming along the shoreline to my right. While it swam out from the tree cover, I thanked God for the gift of seeing the bird up close. Little did I know it would climb out of the water and sit on the rocks beside me. The two of us sat together in silence. It was a moment orchestrated by God.

I was near the end of a spring hike. My legs protested each step as I neared the trail head. As I gasped for air, I told my husband I was done. I knew I would continue but I wanted to stop and sit on the cold ground, giving in to every complaining muscle in my body. It was an irrational thought since we could see the curve in the path just before the trail head and parking lot. I continued knowing comfort was close. As I turned the corner bringing the vehicle into view, I heard a rustling in the woods. I looked up to see a bear looking at me. We held each others eyes for a moment before it continued to the spot I wanted to stop at and then to the river beyond. I continued to the car.

These two examples are unusual experiences. They are moments in time brought about by God. The unexpected and the everyday events all enrich our lives and our writing. 

I looked up the definition of moment. It is a measure of time that is usually brief, such as my encounter with the bear or the pause to notice a new flower. It can also be a point in time that is noteworthy, such as my encounter with the pelican. I find the first blossoms on my haskap plants each spring spring noteworthy. It is a moment I look forward to since it is a sign of the garden waking up. They arrive along with tulips and other spring flowers. The moment I notice them is a brief time. In that way the moment of noticing meets both definitions.

When I write fiction the moments I choose to create give insight into what is important to the characters. They move the story forward. My experiences allow me to add authenticity as I include details I have experienced. However, my experiences don't limit my imagination. Instead they inform it and provide a framework I can build on.

In life, each moment is a chance to pause and recognise God's presence. It is an opportunity to admire His handiwork. From moment to moment He is writing His story and we have the privilege of being part of it. 

How God Speaks (to Marnie Pohlmann)

God has spoken to me since I was a child. From the time He sat with me at a bonfire at Bible Camp to the times I felt His arms around me when evil came to call in the dark night, I have known His presence.

Perhaps it is the untainted trust of childhood or the smallness of a child’s world that makes believing in God and hearing Him so much easier than it is as an adult. Adults are surrounded by such differing ideas, various values, and a multitude of morals. The doubts and questions that must be answered to be firm in one’s own beliefs are not at all like the simple faith of a child.

As much as I continue to know God’s presence in my life, I’m not as good at simply enjoying His company and conversing with Him, as I once was. Yet God does still speak to me about faith, life, and, maybe, especially about writing.

I have continued to learn how God speaks to me, as well as others, in today’s noise-infused world in which we must “adult” whether we want to or not. I am not always paying attention or listening, though. And sometimes I have “selective hearing” where I choose what parts of God’s message I want to hear and what parts I will ignore. Trust me, though, when I tell you that selective hearing never bodes well for me.

So how does God speak to me?

First and foremost, God speaks to me through His Word. Reading Scripture makes God’s voice audible. And yet the words on the surface of the page don’t always mean what we might think they mean. Studying Scripture and the meaning behind the words is what truly makes God’s voice loud and clear. Unmistakable. Compelling.

For example, when questioning whether I could write, whether I should write, and even more so, what I could/should write, God spoke to me through Psalm 26, specifically verse 7.

“⁶ I will wash mine hands in innocency: so will I compass thine altar, O Lord:

⁷ That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all thy wondrous works.

⁸ Lord, I have loved the habitation of thy house, and the place where thine honour dwelleth.” (KJV)

Secondly, I hear God’s voice when being taught, whether by reading or listening to wise Christians expound on God’s Word, God’s character, and God’s actions.

One such time was when I was asked to help a leader with a skit at a women’s meeting. If I remember correctly, the skit was about how God prompted a lady to consider another’s needs and she said, “I will pray for that need.” Now, we all know prayer is important, but sometimes God wants us to do more than pray, perhaps do something more practical and earthly. In time the lady dies and meets God in Heaven, where He hands her a crown decorated with jewels which He explains were set in place as a reward for her actions on earth. The lady is pleased, but when noticing more jewels on a table, she asks God, “What are those jewels for?” He answers, “Oh, those were for your crown, too, but you did not take advantage of the opportunities when I prompted you.”

What I learned through that skit was when God is prompting me to write something, whether or not I think it is of any value or will make it out of my journal for others to read, I need to write. I am called to write. I am responsible to act, and God will use my writing as He pleases. Just thinking about it is not enough when God prompts me to write. (Yes, dear hubby and friends, I hear what your facial expressions are saying!)

Linked to that experience was a the time I was teaching a Sunday School class of teenagers about gifts and talents. One question a musically talented girl asked was, “If I don’t use the talent that God gifted me with, or if I don’t use it in the way God asks me to, will I lose it?” The ‘use it or lose it’ fear

that we guilt ourselves with made me stop and consider. At the time I had decided I would write anything but Christian content, and certainly not share anything of my own life. The girl’s question made me realize that while I didn’t think God would stop me from writing, not using His gift to me in the way He asked would lessen jewels set aside for my crown. Scripture says we will lay our crowns at Christ’s feet, and I would like my gift to Him to be worthy of Him, not crafted by my own feeble works.

Perhaps the way God speaks to me most often is through my own writing. As I write in my journal or prepare an article to share, I hear God teaching me, helping me to make sense of my thoughts and solidify my beliefs. Even as I go back to read some of my own blog posts of the past couple years, I am often amazed at words I wrote and realize a new depth of God’s character or recognize how He has again proven another truth in recent days.

God has also used family and friends, dreams, and circumstances to talk to me. And like the Bereans of Bible times, I must be careful to discern these messages in the light of Scripture to determine whether I am truly hearing God’s voice and not simply my own wants and desires. I continue to learn to recognize my Shepherd’s voice. I continue to listen to His message, and ultimately to respond with action.

Does God speak to you in these ways as well?

     What does God speak to you about?

          How well do you listen to God’s message or prompting?               What is your response when you hear God's voice?

*photos courtesy of www.Pixabay.com CCO license

Marnie Pohlmann strives to listen and act on God's writing prompts while working and ministering in northern BC. Read more about God's presence in Marnie's life at her blog, Phosphorescent.

Never Let Me Go - Linda Aleta Tame

The most cherished moments of my life are the ones when I sense God's presence. Moments like while talking on the phone, my husband and I gazed at the moon together, even though he was in Texas and I was in Manitoba.

Another cherished moment was during an intimate worship time at a women's conference. It was at the end of the service; the worship team was softly playing, "Draw Me Close to You." I closed my eyes, made the words my own, made the sentiments my own. I floated away to the beauty of His presence, completely immersed in His overwhelming love.

Jesus and I were dancing. At first, I could see us gliding across the dance floor, and then as though a camera lens zoomed me in, I was right there in the strength of His arms. An almost unbearable tenderness filled me as I was swept away in that moment of divine embrace. I sang the lyrics to the song "Never let me go" and "Let me know You are here," and meant them. I didn't want the dance to ever end, but the song was coming to a close. I looked at my Saviour, pleading. His amazing eyes were filled with love as He handed me a long-stemmed rose.

He said, "I'll never let you go.  I am always here."

I sunk into a chair, wanting to stay in the afterglow, but the conference was over and it was time to pack up our things and travel the seven hours back home. I shared my experience with the three women traveling with me, and when I said, "Then He gave me a rose," one woman gasped,

"Really? He gave me a rose too, during the same song!"

We rejoiced over sharing such an incredible event. We rejoiced at the confirmation that the Kingdom of God is a reality even now, and that Christ indeed loves His Bride. He draws us close to Him, He never lets us go and He's always here. Nothing separates us from Him; we are always together.

In a State of High Dudgeon - Marcia Laycock

I found myself there this past week. "In a state of high dudgeon." -- a state or fit of intense indignation; resentment; ill humour.

A more common word for it is discouragement. It's a nasty word and an even nastier reality. But it happens. We have days when things overwhelm us, when bad news brings us low, when we wonder if God really has given us this task, this ministry of writing. And if He has, why doesn't he let a few others in on the secret?

I had one of those days this week. I'd been fighting it for some time, ever since learning that the treatments I'll have to undergo for cancer may be more extensive than originally thought. That could mean I'll have to cancel a trip to the arctic that has been planned for over a year. Then I got an email from my publisher telling me my next novel may not be published after all. And an attempt to solicit help from friends to promote my e-book was a dismal failure. A phone call from my sister who is watching our mother die in a town on the other side of the country left me on the edge. All of this has left me feeling tired and unwilling to keep trying to roll that huge ball of life uphill.

Discouragement. It can lead to frustration and frustration to anger and anger to lack of faith. It was my husband who reminded me of this. I guess he was seeing the signs. He reminded me that my worth is not dependent on selling millions of books. He reminded me that success does not rest on being on the best sellers list. He reminded me about some of the changes in people's lives because they've read my novel. He reminded me that joy does not rely on the circumstances around me but comes from knowing I am loved by a God who gave his own life for mine.

That lifted my head, made me look up again and realize that God is here, with me. He's the one who gave the ball a mighty heave to get it moving in the first place and I know he's not going to abandon me or let it roll back on top of me.

A friend sent me this scripture yesterday. It helped lift my head up too: "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed but not in despair; persecuted but not abandoned; struck down but not destroyed" (2 Corinthians 4:8).

And then there's this one: "I lift my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip - he who watches over you will not slumber" (Psalm 121 - 1-3).


So I am lifting my eyes to see the gifts of God around me - the burgeoning green of spring; the deep red of geraniums in my living room that just won't quit blooming; the hugs and prayers of friends who just won't quit encouraging me. And I am thankful.



Marcia writes from central Alberta where she lives with her husband of 30 years, two golden retrievers and a six-toed cat. Visit her website - www.vinemarc.com

A Distant Green — Lynda Schultz

Sometimes we don't see the fulfillment of our dreams or the results of all our work. In the end, it doesn't really matter. The best is yet to come. Take Moses for example…

A DISTANT GREEN

Horeb, Sinai, Nebo—I’m glad this is the last mountain I’ll have to climb.

The old man chuckled to himself as he picked his way through the rocks. His breath was ragged, but anticipation gave him strength as he took the last step that would bring him to his destination at the summit. Tomorrow would be a new day and he wouldn’t be complaining about mountains. He doubted that he’d even have to worry about coming down off of this particular one. He sensed that this would be his final trip, as surely as he sensed the presence of God around him.

The day was clear. He looked out, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun. He could see it all—all that Yahweh had promised the Hebrews from long before he was born. It was so…green.

Ah, now I know I’ve spent too long in the wilderness—to be so impressed by something as simple as a colour!

A millisecond of regret clouded his thoughts. The impatience of his youth, that rashness he’d thought had been left far behind him at the foot of a dead Egyptian, had caught him unprepared as an old man. Two blows, and unwise words that were an affront to God’s holiness, had cost him his walk through this beautiful land another generation would now enjoy.

Still, it would have been something to walk over there in all that greenery, to touch the ground You promised to give to our Father Abraham’s children.

“Moses, my friend.”

The old man wasn’t startled. Once upon a time he would have jumped at the sound of God speaking to him. Not anymore. After all this time he heard God’s voice even when Yahweh wasn’t speaking out loud.

“Yes, my Lord.” Moses waited. It was not for mere man, even the friend of God, to speak before his Maker had his say.

“This is it. This is the land I promised to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They were all men of faith, my friend, in spite of their frailties. They roamed around, living in tents, all the while believing that this day would come. I told them their descendants would return to this land, build houses, plant crops, found cities.”

His audience of one nodded his head slowly.

“I wanted you at least to see it, even though you won’t cross the Jordan with the others.”

“I appreciate that, Lord, I honestly do.”

It was an end, but it was also a beginning.

“So, they’re going to make it this time?”

Israel’s soon-to-be-ex-leader could almost hear God chuckle at the hint of doubt in His servant’s voice.

“This time they will.”

With just the tiniest twinge of envy, Moses thought about two men who had been with him from the beginning of this journey who were going to be especially delighted to see the end of this journey.

“Caleb and Joshua are finally going to get their vindication. They told the others that giants and fortified cities wouldn’t be any problem for You,” he remarked as he mentally annexed: And now those “others” won’t get the chance to find out how true that is.

“I heard that, Moses.”

The old man smiled.

It was as though two men stood side by side perfectly attuned to each other and each comfortable in the presence of the other. Anyone observing would think he saw only one old man who seemed to be talking to himself. Moments passed in silence until…

“It’s time, Moses.”

A wind, like the breath of angels’ wings, stirred around the old man’s head. He took one last look at Canaan and then turned his eyes toward what he couldn’t see, but what he knew was there. The brilliant green of the Promised Land faded and gave way before the overwhelming glory of another place.

Face to face this time, Lord?

"Truly face to face this time, my friend."

He Shows Up In A Closet by Brenda Leyland

Imagine living in a dorm for several months with a bunch of chattering, laughing young women, and you’ll understand why a person sometimes has to get away for a little peace and quiet. When you share a small room with someone else, there isn't anywhere to be alone... to have some quiet time with God.

Except the storage closet down the hall. Stuffy and dusty, not to mention piled to the rafters with suitcases and cardboard boxes, along with a spare mattress on the floor, it wasn't the most inviting of places.

But, many years ago, as a young Bible school student and a fairly new Christian, I was hungry to meet with God. I’d read about other people’s experiences where the presence of God would fill the room as they waited. I desired an experience that would let me know God was really real in my life. I wanted Him to talk to me. I wanted to know what He thought about me and what He wanted me to do with my life.

And, so I'd go into that closet, hoping that I'd find Him there. Yet, so often, I would come away feeling disappointed because I never had any great momentous encounter. The ceiling of that stale room never opened and angels never came down on ladders... at least not to my natural eyes and senses. I never 'felt' Him near. I used to wonder why.

And then, a couple of year ago I went through some inner healing, where I began to deal with old issues that still poked and hurt. So when the closet memory resurfaced I asked Him for an answer. I became quiet, focused my thoughts on Jesus, and tuned to the language of my heart. So God, why didn’t You come? Quick as a blink, I heard in my spirit: But I was there. Don’t you remember My Word in James 4:8? As soon as you came near to Me, I came near to you.

Of course! He'd been there all the time even when I didn't see or feel anything 'special'. When He reminded me of that promise, its reality burst upon my heart—as the joy flooded in the old feeling of abandonment and disappointment finally left.

On a later occasion, I asked Him why I couldn’t feel His Presence during that time. This is what I felt Him saying:

Because I was teaching you to trust my Word above all else. What you learned in the closet back in the 1970s has been your foundation of trusting Me for the rest of your life. In this season of your life, you feel My Presence and nearness often. But when I have to hide a little for a very good reason, I know I can trust you that you won’t stop believing Me. And you have believed that when you call out to Me, I AM listening to you, My Dear One.

Not that long ago, I envisioned that stuffy closet in my mind’s eye and smiled. There we were, Jesus and me, lounging on that old mattress. He had come. He had always come. And promises He always will!

Brenda lives in Alberta, Canada, with her husband and their sweet tortoiseshell cat, Miss Kitty. When Brenda's not watching for glimpses of heaven in unexpected places, she's probably writing about them on her blog It's A Beautiful Life.