I am a strong proponent of reading ALL of the Bible, considering Scripture in context, studying entire books and digging deep to mine the truth contained therein.
But I think sometimes I am so enamored of finding something new I forget what I’ve already learned.
It’s easy to remain in pursuit of truth and yet dismiss the truth that I’ve aprehended.
I can fool my heart into thinking that learning is the same thing as living.
But it’s not.
Read the rest here: Monday Musings: What is Required?
A precious sister-in-loss created this image.
It’s my theme song.
And the message of my heart.
Read the rest here: Monday Musings: Mercy
For it is by grace [God’s remarkable compassion and favor drawing you to Christ] that you have been saved [actually delivered from judgment and given eternal life] through faith. And this [salvation] is not of yourselves [not through your own effort], but it is the [undeserved, gracious] gift of God;
Ephesians 2:8 AMP
This is one of my favorite verses because it summarizes the Gospel-God calls, God saves, God keeps.
It’s ALL God.
Sadly, my human heart can forget this so easily. I can begin to lean on my “good works” or “holy habits” or the testimony of my “faith journey” instead of resting solely in the enduring love of my Faithful Father.
So when hard times come (and they do) and my faith falters (and it will) I become insecure and frightened and concerned that I will ultimately be lost. Because I have shifted the responsibility from God to me.
And I know I’m not strong enough to hold on.
When Dominic ran ahead to heaven my mind was riddled with unanswered questions. “Why?” “Where were You?” “What are You doing in this?”
Those questions ate holes in my faith.
But it’s not ME holding onto God-it’s GOD holding onto me.
The strength of my faith doesn’t determine whether or not His promise is fulfilled, because if it did, there would be no hope.
So, I refuse to have faith in “faith”.
Instead I have faith in an unchanging, everlasting Faithful Father.
I am not a fan of church signs.
Most of the time they try to be cute and reduce eternal truth to a few words that often leave room for [mis]interpretaion.
But I saw one today that I DID like: “Dig the well before you are thirsty”.
Read the rest here: Dig the Well BEFORE You are Thirsty
God is love. ~I John 4:8
I don’t remember when I learned this verse.
It’s been part of my understanding of Who God is and how He works in the world as far back as my mind can travel.
But I freely admit: He may BE love, but I don’t always FEEL loved.
Read the rest here: Monday Musings: The Love of God
One of the things grief is teaching me is that I too often walk through the world like an angry giant, stomping around without any care as to where my large footprints land and what they crush underneath. I am intent on pursuing MY agenda, MY “to do” list, getting to My appointment or paying for MY groceries and heaven help the one who gets in my way.
I don’t want to be like that.
I want to be like Jesus.
I want to be gentle.
A broken reed He will not break [off] And a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish [He will not harm those who are weak and suffering]; He will faithfully bring forth justice.
Isaiah 42:3 AMP
Jesus rested securely in the truth that His Father was near, that His Father had things under control and that His Father would redeem and was redeeming every little thing.
He was not anxious about outcomes. He didn’t have to prove anything or fight for status or control. He was completely free.
When I lean into the truth that God is My Abba Father and that He will and is redeeming every little thing in my life as well, I am equally free.
I don’t have to step on someone else to step up. I don’t have to put out someone else’s light so mine shines brighter.
My position is secured by the blood of Jesus. My light is the love of Christ shed abroad in my heart.
It’s ALL a gift.
It’s all GRACE.
It’s my privilege to live gently, be kind and give freely what has been given to me.
Grief is not sin.
It wasn’t until another grieving mom asked the question that I realized there are some (many?) in the community of believers that think grief is sin.
Not at first, mind you-everyone is “allowed” a certain amount of time to get over the loss of a dream, the loss of a job, the loss of health or the loss of a loved one.
But carry that sadness and wounded heart too publicly for too long and you better be ready for someone to question your faith.
Read the rest here: Grief is Not Sin
We say we want real.
But we really don’t.
We tune in by the millions to watch “reality TV” even though we know the drama is manufactured and the outcome decided months before.
We participate daily in quiet subterfuge when our coworker pretends her marriage isn’t falling apart even though we overhear her desperate phone calls trying to mend it.
We like to hear “Fine, thank you.” when we offer the polite greeting, “How are you?”.
What happens to the person who refuses to play along? What about the one whose heart is so broken that she can’t begin to put on the false front that would make everyone else more comfortable around her?
What do you do when someone stops pretending everything is OK?
Often, people walk away.
Because we have absolutely no idea what to do with real. We have no words when “How are you?” is answered with “Awful. My world is falling apart.”
We reward those who choose to go along with the script that makes us comfortable and isolate the ones that don’t.
But is that the world we really want to live in? Do we want to walk with unsaid words between us, unreleased feelings bottled up and threatening to overflow?
It is really more admirable to pretend?
MASKS by Shel Silverstein
She had blue skin
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through.
Then passed right by —
And never knew.
I will be forever thankful that in the years just before Dominic ran ahead to heaven, I spent each morning lingering long over Scripture. I had just completed filling my fifth journal, copying entire chapters and making notes about what God revealed as I wrote and read.
Because if I had not been so thoroughly steeped in truth before it happened, I’m not sure I would have listened to it afterward.
I understand how hearts are hardened by tragedy.
It’s a wonder that any heart remains soft at all.
Only God’s amazing grace has kept me from turning away.
Only His steadfast love has kept me from leaving it all behind.
When I was in school it was popular to ask a teacher after a test: “Will you grade on a curve?” The hope was always that since it was unlikely anyone would get a perfect score, the brackets would be moved downward.
Very few of us like absolutes. We prefer to be judged one against another instead of against an unbendable standard.
It’s no different with morality.
If you asked me to judge myself on a scale from Hitler to Mother Teresa, I would definitely put myself closer to her rather to him.
As long I measure myself against other humans, I am comfortable saying I fall in the top 50 percent.
Trouble is, that’s not the standard.
The standard against which my actions and heart attitudes are measured is unchangeable and inflexible.
It is perfection itself-the holiness of a holy God.
And when I place myself next to that measuring rod, I am woefully short.
Jesus shocked His followers by telling them that unless their righteousness exceeded that of the Pharisees (considered the most upstanding and holy in that day) they would never enter the kingdom of God. He expounded on every aspect of the Ten Commandments by addressing not only outward conformity (which, in truth, was impossible) but also motive and intention.
By that standard, even my “good deeds” are inadequate because they are often done with a wrong heart attitude.
I give because I want someone to think I’m generous.
I volunteer because I am a people pleaser.
I work hard because I want a raise.
Paul wrote in Romans “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;” (Romans 3:23)
I can never “measure up” to the perfect standard of a perfect God. And while my flesh may be happy with “good enough” the holiness of God demands absolute perfection.
Truth is, I am a sinner-I miss the mark, I step outside the boundaries, I do what I shouldn’t do and don’t do what I should do.
Just like our first parents, I listen to my flesh and the evil one and question God’s goodness and His wisdom. I want to plot my own course, captain my own ship.
And also like our first parents, I find that I cannot do it.
I fall woefully short.
I am naked and ashamed, exposed in my sin and without hope for redemption by my own efforts .
In any other story, this would be the end-no hope, no second chances.
But God….
Two of the most beautiful words in the world!
God has not left me without hope.
He has not left me in my sin.
He has not abandoned me in my desperate state of alienation from my Creator.
He Himself has provided the Sacrifice,
the Perfect Lamb,
the propitiation for my sin.
thelifeididntchoose 