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.       

                                                                                                                   

What Does Your Heart Say? by Lorilee Guenter

Across from me in the coffee shop sat a lady. Her sweater read, "I wear my heart on my sleeve." On the sleeve a list of names represents people important to her. Without talking to her, I don't know who they are. I only know that these are people who mean a lot to her. She loves them.

I wonder what others see when they look at me. I don't proclaim my affection on my clothes. Do my actions as I sit across from family or friends show they are important to me? My words are a clanging gong if they are not backed up by action. I do not want to be a clanging gong. I want to be a voice in the symphony God is directing.

As summer gave way to fall, I noticed distraction pulling my attention. Instead of leaning in to engage in conversation, I was looking beyond. I was leaning back and letting my thoughts wander. I missed out on true connection. Communication became strained as I forgot how to listen not just with my ears but with my heart. I became a clanging gong.

Noticing my responsibility in the disconnect, I lean back in. I confess that I do not like what was going on. I don't want my distraction to turn my words into discordant noise so I allow God to tune me, to bring me back to where He desires me. I pause to listen. I vowed, with God's help, to set aside distraction. I can not do this on my own. Thankfully I don't have to. The Master Conductor knows what I need so I can sing.

Jesus wore His heart on the cross. As thorns pierced His brow and blood and water ran from His side, He wrote my name. He wrote our names. They aren't written with pencil to be erased. They aren't written with thread that can be picked out. Jesus wrote our names with His life. In doing so, He offered to guard our hearts. He knows that even if we try, we are incapable of consistent vigilance without His help. He knows we need His hand in all we do.

The seasons change, my resolve to connect well is tested. I know the only way it will hold is by leaning in. Today, I choose to trust, to let Jesus hold me close and make my heart sing as part of His masterpiece. Tomorrow, I pray I make the same choice.

Lorilee Guenter is a writer and artist from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She enjoys exploring God's creation. Her hobbies and interests are varied which leads to an eclectic set of books she is reading.

IMPACT by Joylene M Bailey

 

The word that kept coming to mind for this month was Impact. As I thought about it, I was sure I'd written another post entitled Impact some years back. So I searched the IWO posts back through the years, and sure enough, there it was, and saying almost exactly what I wanted to say this time around. So here, with a few tweaks, is that post ... reposted. 

~~~~~

I was 23 and seven months pregnant with my firstborn when God or His angels stepped in-between the car I was in and the one heading straight for me.

I can still see the grill of that vehicle racing through a red light, aimed right at the passenger door where I was sitting. Time seemed to slow down as I closed my eyes and braced for the impact.

Instead, I heard WHOOOOSH and felt an intense gust of wind blow against my door. I opened my eyes to see that by some strange occurrence we were on the other side of the intersection. I twisted in my seat, as much as my pregnant belly would allow, to look for the car that had been barreling down on us. It was nowhere to be seen. The whole event had happened in the blink of an eye.

My husband hadn't heard the whoosh, hadn't felt the gust of wind. He had swerved but not enough to evade a collision. It was as though we had skipped ahead in time and that the event I KNOW happened had not occurred at all. The memory is so vivid to me. Even after all these years I can describe every second, but I can't explain it. Yet I know without a doubt that God intervened that day.

I believed it was because He still had plans for me, for the baby I carried, and for two more yet to be born. He intended for me to raise three strong, independent girls who would grow up to be women who would impact their world and the Kingdom. He intended for them to raise children of their own who would impact the Kingdom and their future world. 

This is no small thing.

There have been countless times in my life when God's strategic providences were evident. Not all of them have been as time-warping as this one. But each event has added a brick to my wall of faith, making it stronger every time, so that when life takes a dive into the muck, I can trust that He sees the Big Picture from His vantage point. And I can keep slogging it out in the sludge below, knowing He will help me through in His own timing.

He can be trusted.

He can be trusted with my writing too.

It hadn't really occurred to me, until recently, that my writing and its impact might be part of the reason God intervened that day. On those days when I wonder why I think I'm a writer, do my words have any impact, and is it worth it to keep going, I need to trust that there must be some reason He gave me this passion, this drive to write. 

He must need my voice for something.

So, I will write—using my particular voice and my particular style—always trusting that He can and will do whatever He wants to do with it.

Maybe, just maybe, God intervened that day so that I would be around to write this post. To give Him glory for the unimaginable yet very real impact He has on all of us who are blessed to call Him Father and are driven to write about it.

 ~~~~~

All photos from Pixabay

Joy loves all kinds of words, but the ones that have the most impact with her are beautiful words strung together. She writes from lake country, Alberta, where she lives with The Cowboy and a couple of small furry friends named Chara and Rhubarb. Find more of her joy-infused writing at Scraps of Joy.

Deep Dive by Mary Folkerts

 

“I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” John 10:9,10 (NIV).

I watched my 82-year-old friend dive into the summer lake while I sat in the boat with my fear. 

As a child, it was ingrained in me to fear deep water, and I never had swimming lessons until I was in high school, and then only for a short while. This, and not having much access to swimming pools, created in me a fear of water if it was too deep to stand in. 

So what a strange dilemma when you become a swim coach who can’t swim. That’s right. I help coach Special Olympics swimmers on my daughter's swim team, but I cannot swim. All  I can do is stand on the side of the pool, relaying instructions from the head coach, cheer the athletes on, and see if someone is in distress, but I cannot jump in to save them. I watch with a sense of longing as the swimmers effortlessly cut through the water, their limbs and minds trained to know how to keep their bodies afloat in deep water. They don’t fear the depths as long as they trust what they have learned. 

What a strange dilemma when you become a

swim coach who can’t swim!

 Isn’t it true that we often spend too much time splashing around in the wading pool of Christianity because we’ve never really learned how to swim? Oh, we’ve been saved by faith in Jesus, but we’ve never had the desire to swim in the deep end. Fear holds us back because when our feet can’t touch bottom, we lose our sense of control. And we don’t like to lose control. We want to “do Christianity” on our own terms. We read part of our key verse, “… I have come that they may have life…” and that’s where we stop. 

“...and have it to the full” is the deep dive. This full or abundant life is not necessarily characterized by a life of ease. One of the biggest things that keep us from experiencing this life Jesus desires to give us is our inherent need for control. We like to keep our feet firmly planted in our own plans and desires. We hold on tight and miss out on the blessing of trusting God’s love for us. We have been taught that Jesus is faithful and trustworthy, but do we believe it? Have we never learned to truly trust because we refuse to go where the water is deep? 

How can we encourage readers to dive deep into an abundant relationship with God when we fail to do so ourselves? Shallow faith is not a tried faith. It’s working through the difficult emotions, the ugly sins, admitting to failure, discouragement and depression. It’s being authentic. It’s removing the mask of perfection, revealing the depths of God’s love and working power within our own desperate hearts.

Shallow faith is not a tried faith.

And sometimes, by God's grace, He gently nudges us deeper than we wanted to go, to where we have no choice but to cling to Him.  It’s here that we become aware that living in His abundance means complete trust in His goodness, which brings abundant peace no matter how deep the water.

Mary Folkerts is mom to four kids and wife to a farmer, living on the southern prairies of Alberta, where the skies are large and the sunsets stunning. She is a Proverbs 31 ministries COMPEL Writers Training member and is involved in church ministries and music. Mary’s personal blog aims to encourage and inspire women and advocate for those with Down Syndrome, as their youngest child introduced them to this extraordinary new world. For more inspiration, check out Joy in the small things https://maryfolkerts.com/  

D is for Defying Doubt by Lorilee Guenter

 

There is a dictionary full of words to choose for this month. I thought about reading through the entries to find something to anchor this reflection on, because I didn’t want to write about doubt. I recognised some irony in the search since I was letting doubt guide a path away from the one word that kept surfacing among the many options.

Doubt creeps into my writing journey in many ways. Some are obvious. Those are the easiest to catch and face. Others are much more subtle. All could contribute to the so-called impostor syndrome.

The most obvious voice of doubt screams, “You are not a writer.” The primary response is to pick up my pen and write anyway. As the ink makes readable marks on the page, I silence the lie. Even if no one reads what I have committed to paper, I have shown that I am a writer in the most basic sense of the word.

“But no one will want to read what I write.” Another lie born out of doubt. True, there will be people who don’t want to read my work. We all have different preferences regarding style and content we like to read. That does not prove that nobody wants to read it. It is not my job to decide who does and does not want to read it. My job is to express the ideas I have been given. Even if only one person, me, reads the writing, it is enough because, through the act of writing, I am able to clarify my thoughts.

Then there are smaller doubts that arise while writing or, more specifically, during revising and editing. The doubt is about clarity. This doubt can be a tool used to strengthen our writing if we don’t let it paralyse us. The dictionary and thesaurus might help here as we search for that word that brings an image to life. Conversely, it can paralyse if we let that hint of doubt keep us from picking a word, or creating a phrase. The perfect choice does not exist because each reader brings their own experience to the page. Those experiences inform the connotations the reader interprets language with.

As I walk through my writing journey, I must learn to recognise the doubt that paralyses and turn it over to God. By entrusting my writing to the Holy Spirit, faith replaces doubt. My writing becomes an offering. My responsibility is to be faithful to use the gifts I have been given instead of hiding them due to doubt. God’s responsibility is to take the offering and use it where, when, and how He wants.

I do not know what doubt I will face tomorrow. It is my hope and prayer that I will recognise it and continue in faith anyway.

Betach - A Welded Trust by Joylene M Bailey

 

Image by Leopold 13 from Pixabay

I will say of the LORD, [He is] my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.

Psalm 91:2  

~~~~~

Remember those old Sunday School picnics where they had three-legged races? You found your partner, tied one of your ankles to their ankle and then tried to run a race as one. Unless you were perfectly in sync, you just ended up tripping each other and stumbling all over the race course.

The B word God gave me for February means something kind of like that, but only if you imagine the perfectly in sync scenario.

The first time I saw the Hebrew word Betach was when I saw my daughter's new sign by her front door. At the time I didn't know what it meant; I only knew the whispering in my spirit that said, This is it. This is the word you need to share.

I'm not a Bible scholar, but I did a tiny bit of research, and I also asked my daughter, the theology major. 

My research informed me that the word has a few meanings, mostly to do with security and safety. But in the above verse it means to adhere to, and originally came from an ancient art of welding. 

Welded to God. 

My daughter informed me that when the word is used to mean trust, it's the kind of trust that is laid prostrate on the ground in complete vulnerability and surrender. Nothing held back.

I'd have to say it takes surrendering everything to be welded to something. In those old three-legged races, your ankles were joined by a flimsy rope of some kind. Imagine having your whole body welded to another. You give up your way of doing things. When their arm moves, your arm moves. When they turn left, you turn left. It is a complete surrendering.

I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge

and my fortress: my God; in him will I be

welded in complete vulnerability and surrender.

Well, who wouldn't want to be welded to He who is my refuge and my fortress? I guess someone who wanted their own way, someone who didn't understand that the LORD's ways are so much higher and better than my ways. 

But oh, it takes so much to surrender EVERYTHING, doesn't it? Even my writing - every last bit of it. The words I use, the places they go, whether or not they are published...

There is so much more research I could have done here, but I hope I've sparked something in you with this word BETACH. Let me know how it speaks to you.

Bonded.

Entrusting

This, (whatever THIS is for you)

Acknowledging

Complete

Homage.

~~~~~

Here's a link to a Hebrew word study on Betach.

Joy is currently looking after recuperating grandsons in Manitoba. When she's not supervising naps and making bland meals, she's writing InScribe blog posts deep into the night. Find more of her joy-infused writing at Scraps of Joy.

 

The past walks with the present ... by Jocelyn Faire

 

 

... because the past walks with us in the present in more ways than we know. ~ Brian McLaren

     I feel I've had more than enough life defining moments. The most heart-and-soul wrenching  moment was to stand between the caskets of my son and my daughter being lowered ... trying to convince myself that “we do not grieve as those who have no hope.” I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that life was never ever going to be back to anything I had ever dreamed, imagined, expected, or wished for. On an icy highway, life had been irreparably altered, changing forever the road I now walked upon. For nearly a decade that followed, the ongoing barrage of life defining moments dizzied me, while my prayers could not give voice to the aching depths or questions of my heart. Looking back now, it feels like watching my life as a movie scene. 

But  .... 

And this is the moment of big buts; in those life altering events we are held and supported by God in powerful ways. Those defining moments birth further moments in the successive days, months and even years that all play back to that big defining moment. Because as Brian McLaren says, the past walks with us in the present in more ways than we know. That past moment is ever present.

This month's question felt significant; partly, because I know I've faced life defining events, and because the successive defining moments all had a kind of glue that kept that event impacting forward. My mother once asked me ... “Jocelyn, do you think you would've gotten divorced if the accident hadn't happened?” No. Would I have moved to Australia without knowing a soul down under? Would I have written a book or two? No, No. Neither of those. Would I have adopted a drug addict as my surrogate daughter? Would I have retired from nursing early? No. No. Would I have felt emotionally safer being of no fixed address than living in my old hometown where everyone knew the story? No. Would I have felt the need to remove myself from church groups because some of those pat answers were too shallow? Would I now be traveling with (and married to) the doctor I used to work with? ... another big No. There are a thousand No's ... But, an equal number of YES's that have stemmed from that one big bang!

There are a lot of clichés and verses thrown about in regards to the value and benefit of suffering change. We are often encouraged to just trust the process and the God behind it ... to let the change change us, to make the best of it ... These are more easily said from those witnessing someone in tumultuous times, and often a very well meaning friend tosses in a reminder that “all things work together for good, to those that love the Lord,” overlooking the immense pain of past trauma. I continue to learn this. Sometimes I'm successful in identifying that what I over react to is because it links back to a deeper pain within. 

But, to end off more positively, I want to share some things that I have learned: The power of hope is strong; humans have a resilience that I would not have dreamed possible for myself; God walks alongside us in the worst of times. God's question that kept coming back to me was, “Will you trust me?” Will I trust you? And God, how can you expect me to trust you after what happened? Each time I stepped in that direction, it felt as though things worsened. Will I trust you? My answer had to be Yes, because the alternative was even worse. 

And now, almost seventeen years later, when I am asked if I will trust, (the question keeps coming up, because life continues) ...  I hesitate less and say, yes, I will trust you.  Each defining moment carries opportunity for a defining response ... and this filters down to the most ordinary of days. Each day holds an opportunity to live life as holy, to reclaim the power of my identity as a much loved child of God, and to make sense of the world. The control I once wanted has gone by the wayside ... and this brings both a loss and a freedom, when I realize how tenuous that perceived control really is. With less need for control, I allow wisdom and grace to enter.

I want to share the hope that has risen from the defining moment ... that life can be experienced as beautiful again, that the soul can grow larger even in the face of catastrophic loss. And that the comfort and presence of God can be experienced. Blessings to you as you face your defining moments. (If nothing else, you can be relieved that your day doesn't seem nearly as bad now.)

A Prayer of Relinquishment ~ Valerie Ronald

 

My husband and I held each other in the dark as we prayed through our tears. We were married only a short time when I discovered the cancer I was being treated for was still growing. We had known this possibility was real, yet we clung to the hope the treatments would work. God had brought us together in a miraculous way, so why would He allow this awful disease to separate us?

As mature Christians, our faith was strong in our sovereign God and His perfect will. This was a second marriage for both of us. We saw ourselves as a couple of seasoned war horses, having survived the battles of our betrayed first marriages with our faith still intact. These trials taught us that when God asks us to surrender our will to His, we must trust He will show us the way. He clearly showed us the way to each other. We knew without doubt our marriage was a gift from Him. Only now our faith was being put to the ultimate test in a life-and-death situation. Could we trust Him with this?

On tear-soaked pillows we relinquished our own dreams and desires to the One who holds all things in His hands. It was a desperate prayer, a laying down of this precious gift of love we had in each other.We surrendered all, but not without a sense of rending, of tearing, of grief at the possibility of losing what we had only just found in our mutual love. It felt risky to lay bare before God our deepest longing. What if He chose not to spare me? What if our life together was cut short?

“Remember what God said?”, whispered my husband. “ 'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways.' 1  We need to trust Him, no matter what.”

Not only were we called to trust, we were called to obey. Giving over to God what we held dearest to our hearts needed to be done as an act of obedience, not of emotion. Pleading to have our own way, no matter how right it seemed, would be placing our own will above His. If we truly trusted Him, then we must truly trust that His ways are best, whatever the outcome. Our desire for God to be foremost in our hearts must take precedence over our desire for me to be cured. Like Abraham, we placed the “Isaac” of our life together on the altar, giving it to God to do with as He thought best.

My oncologist intensified my treatment regimen. For six more months I endured chemotherapy infusions which made me sicker than the disease itself. When I was at my lowest I sometimes wondered if our prayer of relinquishment was turning into one of resignation. But resignation signifies defeat, giving up to expect the worst. Our prayer meant we accepted the reality of our situation, yet with open hands to receive willingly whatever our loving Father sent. Relinquishment did not close the door on hope.

That night of prayer and tears happened over 19 years ago. Doctors credited the treatments for halting the cancer, but we know God gave me the gift of this long remission. We have come to believe that relinquishing our desires to God, the hardest thing we’ve ever done, positioned us to receive what He wanted to give us and to accomplish what He had in mind for our lives.

What if God had chosen not to prolong my life? Would our prayer have failed? There can be no failure in relinquishing our will to God, because doing so tells God of our complete trust in Him, and that is what He desires most from us. I reached a point when I could say with Job, “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him.” 2

My husband and I take every day we have together as a blessing from our loving God. We continue to yield our dreams and hopes to Him, not knowing what the outcome will be, yet trusting the One who knows the end from the beginning. Whatever He deems best is fine with us.

___________________________

1  Isaiah 55:8 NIV              2  Job 13:15 NIV

Valerie Ronald lives in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba. She is a graduate of Vancouver's Langara College journalism program, and has worked as a newspaper reporter, freelance writer, public speaker and bookstore employee. She writes devotionals for her home church bulletins and her online blog. Her current book project chronicles how God's faithfulness saw her through the dark valleys of divorce and cancer. Along with her husband, Valerie enjoys spending time with their blended family and six grandchildren. She is a nature photographer, water colorist, cat lover and Scrabble addict.

More of her devotionals can be read on her blog https://scriptordeus.wordpress.com

Invest In Rest by Bob Jones

Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.

 

I hope those words mean as much to you today as they do to me. When I feel like quitting it’s often because I’m tired. Tired of looking at a blank screen. Tired of writing. Tired of struggling to be creative. Tired of the incessant demand of writing deadlines. Mentally tired. Just, plain tired. 

 

Over the years I learned that it takes discipline and trust to rest. Trust that the writing groove will be found again. Discipline to force myself away from an unfinished project, close my laptop, or journal, and give myself permission to stop writing.

 

Resting is my solution to quitting.

 

Don't Quit

 

Poet Edgar A. Guest wrote the inspirational “Don’t Quit” one hundred years ago. In all, he published over 11,000 poems. Guest concludes his poem with the words,

You can never tell how close you are,

It may be near when it seems so far;

So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit –

It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.

 

I wonder if he wrote “Don’t Quit:” out of his personal experience?  The poem is a gentle reminder to us all that even the most trying of times will end, and there are sunnier skies ahead.

 

Inscribers have felt the urge to quit.

 

In November 2020, Lynn Dove wrote, “I have never felt more like quitting than today! I look at the blank screen on my computer and experience an overwhelming urge to… declare my writing career done.” 

 

If it feels uncomfortable taking a rest its because there is so much around compelling us not to rest. Rest is a luxury; rest is a priority. How do you deal with this tension?

 

As Jesus followers we’re familiar with the “Sabbath rest.” Writer, Carol Tice, credits her creativity to the Sabbath rest. “What happens when you rest — truly rest — is nothing short of amazing and miraculous.

I know this because every week, I take a full day completely off of work.

I don't check email. I turn of all electronic devices. And I don't write a single thing.

It's wonderful.

I don't even think about working. (This part is important). Just total downtime.

And it's how I'm able to maintain a busy schedule of writing without losing my mind.”

 

Note to self:  Try this at least once before you retire.

 

Routine Commandments

Author Henry Miller created a work schedule that listed “commandments” for him to follow as part of his daily routine. Miller doesn't use the word “rest” but the value is woven through his list.

 

1. Work on one thing at a time until finished.

2. Don’t be nervous. Work calmly, joyously, recklessly on whatever is in hand.

3. Work according to Program and not according to mood. Stop at the appointed time!

4. Keep human! See people, go places.

5. Don’t be a draught-horse! Work with pleasure only.

6. Discard the Program when you feel like it—but go back to it next day. Concentrate. Narrow down. Exclude.

7. Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing.

8. Write first and always. Painting, music, friends, cinema, all these come afterwards.

 

Invest in rest. You won't regret it. 

 

I write to grow hope, inspire people to be real, forge an authentic faith in Jesus, and discover their life purpose.

Please follow my writing at REVwords.com

I would love to hear from you.

He Swerves for Us – Denise M. Ford

To hear the Lord, to ponder the whispers that sometimes settle in my mind. To perceive and yet cringe in the complacency of my own thoughts. To dissect and examine with time spinning away from me as my doubts prevent the possibilities of my purpose.

That describes the constant struggle I have to live out the bold message that literally swerved in front of me one day as I prayed earnestly and desperately to the Lord for guidance.

I had decided to apply for work as a teacher assistant for special needs students. I hoped to work with preschoolers who needed extra loving support as they entered the unknown experience known as school. On that day as I drove to the administration building, I expressed my concerns to the Lord, pleading with Him to let me know if this could possibly align with His plans for my life.

Is this the right time to pursue this Lord?

Will I know how to give the appropriate help?

Will I be placed where I can make a difference?

Should I turn around and go home?

I maneuvered my car toward the turning lane. And then, from behind me a bus swerved directly into my path, cutting me off from my careful lane positioning. I looked up in disbelief and swallowed the anger rising within me.

There emblazoned across the back of the bus rode three large words,

“Trust, Trust, Trust.”

I laughed. Then I cried. As I realized those lines belonged to a financial institution advertisement, I laughed even harder. In my mind I pictured Jesus laughing with me.

Did I hear Him? Oh yes, I did. Did I believe that the bus swerved just for me? Oh yes, I did.

I went forward with a calm, resolved mind that this interview would lead me to a purpose He had for me. When a surprising question came up, I repeated to myself, “Trust, Trust, Trust” and I let the applicable words within me flow into the conversation.

I worked for over 8 years as an assistant for special needs students, first with preschoolers and then unexpectantly being placed at the local high school. Challenging, rewarding, overwhelming days all rolled under the protective umbrella I held over myself as I repeated silently every day, “Trust, Trust, Trust.”

I realize I probably cry out to the Lord with those same questions from years ago, as I try to discern how to apply my writing. How do I fit into His purposes during these days when fear and anxiety tackle all of us as we live through this Covid pandemic?

Is this the right time to pursue this Lord?

Will I know how to give the appropriate help?

Will I be placed where I can make a difference?

Should I turn around and go home?

“Trust, Trust, Trust.”

I’m believing that trust moves within me. It requires my willingness to respond to it, but also my desire to create because of it. Trust becomes twofold, residing within me as I accept the Lord’s guidance, and busting forth from me as I act with His inspiration.

As I pray to find a scriptural reference for this post, I am led to Psalm 33. David wrote about the Lord as his Creator who speaks, commands and counsels. David acknowledged the Lord in verse 15 as “He who fashions the hearts of them all and observes all their deeds.” David understood that it was not his own power but the steadfast love of the Lord that helped him in his challenges. As David accepted God as trustworthy, he responded with praise and hope. In verse 20-21 he stated, “Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and our shield. In Him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in His holy name.”

Reading the Psalm again I see that David began by daring us to sing joyfully. Although he speaks of how he will respond with music on his harp, I hear the words in verse 3 and apply them as a challenge for writing during these days.

“Sing to Him, a new song, play skillfully, and shout for joy.”

Sing, play, shout!

A new trio of words to hold over myself as protection from fear and anxiety.

To sing with our words, to find new songs despite the virus that threatens to destroy our desires to praise and create. To play skillfully with the ideas that come to mind. To build on that firm foundation of trust. To shout for joy, so others will hear and be encouraged.

I believe our Lord continues to swerve unexpectedly in whatever direction each one of us needs. As our Creator He knows our individual hearts for He has fashioned them. He longs for us to hear Him, to rejoice as we trust in Him.

Look for Him. Listen for Him. Laugh and cry with Him. Take out your pens and place those words outside of you, for Him.

I’m ready to play, are you?

I’m going to need more – Denise M. Ford

“I’m going to need some more,” my granddaughter, Violet said, as she barely chewed through the first chocolate covered peanut butter egg. One little taste and she could barely contain her enjoyment. She couldn’t wait to have more inside of her! Her eyes lit up; her tongue rolled over her lips as she blurted out her desire.

I hadn’t planned to make the traditional homemade Easter candy this year. Everything about celebrating Easter this year seemed in upheaval, in chaos. One less task to do amid this Covid virus crisis gave me a welcome sigh of relief.

And then my one son casually texted, “we’ve been dreaming of your Easter candy!” Dreaming? I suppose we all have our moments these days in which we conjure up ideas of how to escape the anxiety, fear, pent-up frustrations and general lack of control over this viral disease. A holiday amidst a pandemic brings an overwhelming desire to still have something around us that seems normal, calming, traditional. We cannot gather to worship together or for an extended family meal but surely, mom, surely you will make the Easter candy?

I’m not sure what it says about me that my pantry just happened to have all the necessary ingredients. Actually, I do know. I am a make-it-from-scratch cook who likes to have items that will fall easily into recipes. Coconut, chocolate chips, icing sugar, peanut butter—when I use up the last of these, I quickly restock so they can be ready for use the next time.

The one outstanding item, crème cheese, had yet to be found. I scoured my fridge hunting in the far corners. No not there, but happily I discovered and found some in the freezer, probably bought when it was on sale. I now had everything I needed. So, I made chocolate covered peanut butter and coconut crème eggs.

During this time, we often Facetime or send selfie videos to the grandkids, but since we had to deliver the candy, we decided that we could attempt a porch visit with little Finn and Violet. Fortunately, I managed to scrounge up an old truck book and some construction toy vehicles from my sons’ old things. I had a craft kit in my Nana’s stash for Violet. We drove over to their house on a sunny afternoon. Little Finn tried over and over to back up into our laps so we could read the truck book with him. But he had to settle for a somewhat distanced page-through that soon failed to entertain him.

To keep them occupied while the adults visited, the kiddies drew coloured chalk pictures on the sidewalk. We had to cut the time short, so we didn’t unknowingly pass any viral germs between us. Air hugs and kisses sufficed for the time being, but we all achingly knew we wanted more. A taste of a Nana and Pop-Pop visit didn’t seem to be enough. We all wanted more.

I find that is at the heart of this pandemic. We all want more. We want more hope, more patience, more comfort, more normalcy. More scientific facts, more reassurance, more ability to do the right thing for each other. More control.

“I’m going to need some more,” our hearts boldly cry out.

My niece a doctor on the front lines in the emergency room with Covid patients in a crowded Pennsylvania hospital---she needs more protective gear so at the end of her shift she can go home to her 3-year old daughter and 2-year old foster child.

My 89-year old mother needs more purpose and more confidence that she can still protect her loved ones, as she sews medical masks for every member of her family and all her elderly friends.

My sister needs more time as she heads back to New Jersey as a nurse in a Veteran’s Home, following a visit to help her other daughter who just gave birth to her second son.

My son a teacher, requires more patience with his students and their parents as he navigates the virtual classroom from his home.

His wife desperately needs a Nana visit so that she can be refreshed in her role as a new mother.

My other son and wife need more assurance that their children will remain healthy while continuing in care at a small day home, so they can maintain work-at-home schedules to continue to pay the mortgage.

My dear friends in places where the Covid outbreak has been overwhelming and frightening need more faith and confidence in the loving heart of God.

I need more capacity to be calm as I struggle with a new diagnosis that means I am immune compromised and more vulnerable to this deadly virus.

The world needs more help, for the unemployed, the ones already sick, the ones who have died. For the essential workers on the frontlines…

We all need more; we need to hold on tighter and more firmly to the promises that God remains steadfast and true despite this horrific pandemic. In our moments of ultimate meltdowns, we all need more, we need to be rescued.

On Good Friday my husband and I called my mother in Pennsylvania. We invited her to “attend our church service” at Westlife Church in Calgary via her laptop. She uses it as a way of staying in touch with our family in Canada having Facetime calls receiving texted photographs of her great grandchildren. But going to church on-line presented a new challenge for her. Thankfully we managed to patiently guide her through the steps to participate with us using her laptop. After the service, we looked toward Easter, we felt that we had received more of Christ when we needed Him most.

One of the scriptures from Good Friday echoes over and over to me. Jesus wept. Jesus wept and grieved not for himself, but for us. He needs us.

Christ needs more. He needs more of us. More of our hearts responding to him. He still seeks us; He still sits with us and watches as we try to fill our hearts with what we believe we need. He hears us as we cry, “I think I’m going to need some more.”

We don’t realize he already knows what we need. He knows our “more.” He knows what to offer. His pantry remains fully stocked and ready to respond to any request. He doesn’t need a list to remind himself that he needs to provide more sustenance, more comfort. He knows how to respond.

I’ve been praying through the Psalms crying out in need. Praying for continual protection for every family member, every friend, every essential worker who sacrifices safety and sanity on behalf of another’s needs.

I grieve in advance, as Mary grieved. She knew Jesus lived on the edge of provocation every day. He either provoked anger amongst the Jewish leaders or provided hope for His worshipping followers. She knew what it meant to submit to God’s will, and she grieved for her son who had to sacrifice everything to fulfill it. She knew and although she marvelled at His healing works, His miracles which led people to trust and believe in Him, she also grieved for the heartache that surely would come. Waking up daily and not knowing if her son would be arrested or celebrated. Following His arrest, she woke up, picturing Him being tortured and mocked. She didn’t know what would happen next, so she grieved even as she prayed with hopeful yearning to the God who had provided and cared for her. She needed more.

She wanted more. She wanted a miracle, but she didn’t know what to expect. She stayed with Jesus and grieved. She stayed with him and asked for more from her God. Let’s not miss the fact that Jesus stayed too, as long as he could; praying, weeping, and asking more from God for us.

During our Good Friday service, we shared Communion by partaking at home with bread and juice. As we heard the words from scripture spoken by Jesus at the supper He shared with his disciples, we heard what we each needed. We heard His promise that He would provide more.

More comfort. More healing. More hope.

To receive it, we need to give Christ more.

More trust, more faith, more love.

My one niece brought her 2-year-old over to my mother’s back yard on Easter so he could have an egg hunt. She carried her one-month old baby over to the picture window so my mother could wave and make silly faces at him. Mother watched as older brother Connor scampered about discovering eggs here and there. Earlier, we and mother had attended church together once again on-line and over the phone. Praising together, praying together, holding onto the promises together despite distance or the lurking virus.

I told mother about little Violet tasting the Easter candy and how she knew immediately that she wanted more. We laughed and then cried together. Seems like it’s a back and forth emotional whirlwind every day.

To end our Easter phone call on a positive note, I described for her a picture that I bring to mind daily, every time I need more.

“I am on my knees in prayer and in a weeping mess. I am distraught and overwhelmed by all the needs of everyone throughout this pandemic. And then I am lifted up, embraced and held in strong arms. I breathe deeply, I am quieted by a gentleness and peacefulness that flows over and around me. I begin to have a resurgence of clarity, a sense that I am held lovingly and tenderly. And in those arms, in that amazing embrace I know Jesus gives me the some more I need.”

Easter has come. Jesus is here. He embraces us. Jesus gives us more of what we need even though we often don’t know what to ask for until the time arrives. He knows. He offers. He is here.

Go to His embrace. Trust. Feel His strength. Hope. Breathe deeply His peace. Be Forever Loved.

Do we need more? Amen and amen. Over and over again. Thank goodness He is stocked and ready. Thank goodness He provides.

Praise the Lord, my soul, all my inmost being praise his holy name.

Praise the Lord, my soul and forget not all his benefits---who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Psalm 103:1-5 NIV

What do you need more of during this time? 

What did you need more of before this pandemic? 

How has your concept of more changed?