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Thursday, April 18, 2019

Inspired by . . . silence the stones





In my memories, Easter is a wash of pastel colors; fresh greens, robin eggs, lavender buds, and sunshine.

It was a time for dressing up and going to church.  We knew about the cross but the concept of sacrifice was lost somewhere in the Easter baskets that were overflowing with gifts and candy.

Peanut butter eggs may be the best thing since sliced bread but the real gift of Easter is the sacrifice.

Sacrifice.

It's an unpopular concept in our world today. Prosperity is a gospel loudly proclaimed and universally accepted but someone giving out of their need rather than their excess is scarcely mentioned and rarely celebrated.

How can a world of instant, personal gratification understand a God who laid aside all His glory and power to become a man? A man who allowed Himself to be tortured and killed to save the very people who shouted, "Crucify!"?

I don't know. 

But I do know that those of us who believe live a life woven with the reality of this Truth. We are the heralds of His sacrifice. Our lives: a canvas to display His glory. Our lips: an instrument to praise His name.

And silence the stones.

Shalom,



Friday, April 12, 2019

Inspired by . . . rivulets in the desert


The intensity of these moments took my breath away. 

A sky so dark. The crescent moon so crisp in the sky I felt as if I could lift it free from the fabric of the night and tuck it in my pocket.


A sky so blue. Broken suddenly by the silence of wings. So deeply white, a cloud in the sky, his beak a ray of sunshine.



Moments seared hot in my memories. Whispers from heaven.

Rivulets in the desert.

When we're in the desert, especially when we're in the desert, the enemy loves to coax us off the path of faith with mirages of sunlit fields filled with wildflowers . . . that quickly turn into pools of tar and quicksand.

Time spent in a spiritual wilderness is a blessing that is most appreciated in hindsight. We are desperate to be in His presence, yet we can't seem to grasp even the hem of His garment.

Often, strangely, we find, finally, that He was closest to us when He seemed the farthest away.

In the desert, flash floods destroy what the rivulets sustain.

Perhaps, in this moment, He is revealing as much of Himself as we can contain.

A sky so dark.
A sky so blue.

Shalom,



Photo credit @getstencil