Peace be Still

“O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose,
My rest from strife of tongues, my holy hill,
Fair is Thy pavilion, where I hold me still.
Back let them fall from me, my clamorous foes,
Confusions multiplied;
From crowding things of sense I flee, and Thee I hide.
Until this tyranny be overpast,
Thy hand will hold me fast;
What though the tumult of the storm increase,
Grant to Thy servant strength, O Lord, and bless with peace.” 
― Amy Carmichael, Toward Jerusalem

I am saddened, today, as I write, and, yet, strangely encouraged.  This week, we buried a great friend and a great leader.  She taught me how to stand when I was 17: trying to grow in a counseling gift I didn't yet understand.  I think of her, but I also think of so many others; many who paid the price and have gone before us, and whose footsteps light the way in front of us as they tried to follow Jesus.  I feel a shifting coming; a turning of the tides.  Everywhere, the darkness is growing; some say it has always been this dark; others say that it's only that we are becoming more aware of it; my theory is that, in these days, the "dark will get darker, and the light lighter" (2 Timothy 3:13-14), and what we do with the light God has given us will determine the course of families, churches, nations, and kings.  God has called us to arise (Isaiah 60) and to not be overcome by the darkness (fear; sorrow; guilt; compromise), but to overcome evil with good.  All around us, we see losses insurmountable, and all around us, we see joy and abundant provision, and both are found in the same day.  Those losses and joys encourage me even more in the hope that, as Winston Churchill once said, "This is our finest hour."  We can look around and call these days dark, or we can stand up and shine with all that is within us, and even in the darkness, know the One who came to give us light.

There is a "civil war" coming, if you will; a dividing line where even compromise will seem okay; where power will sustitute godly authority; where even in the Name of God, intimidation, and division, and pride ("Only I know best") will be allowed to reign.  James called this type of wisdom sensual, but said that the wisdom which comes from above will be teachable and peaceable; God's wisdom may bring a sword, at times, but against injustice, and compromise, and fear, and arrogance; NEVER against those God came to save.  God's wisdom will never be heard oppressing people in the streets; His wisdom stoops low to honor and protect, but never to the point of calling darkness light or light darkness; never to the point of justifying what we know is not okay.

Those who have gone before us--who paid the price to teach us love, and joy, and fairness, and perseverance; who gave their lives for others regardless of the costs, but stood up to those same "others" when doing so was not popular; when keeping silent would have been easier; when compromise longed for control.  We honor them, and we follow their example: love must always be the goal; wisdom must always seek to bring freedom and peace; arrogance and pride can never be the means to accomplishing our reforms; neither does speaking against the darkness equal religion and arrogance.  We dance a careful dance: free and compassionate; holding to our standards and calling others to rise, and rightly discern wrong from right, yet willing to listen; never thinking we've arrived.  As we dance a dance of grace, and mercy, and freedom, and compassion, we hold to who God has made us and allow others to be themselves. And we allow God to be over us all...to let Him be the One to bring conviction and change; to let Him use our lives to call others higher, and deeper, and further in Him.

To do any less would be to dishonor the memory of those who gave their lives in the battle; who at one point reached down to us and allowed us to climb upon their shoulders to see from a better view.  May God giveus courage and wisdom; may He help us balance the truth with love; may He find us faithful when, like them, we close our eyes in sleep, and until that day, may He be our refuge from the enemy of our souls; may He truly be "a rest from strife of tongues."  May we long to do His will; may we see Him in our hearts and know that, one day, we, too, will see Him, like those who have gone before us, now, face to face.

Be Magnified

I woke up singing this song, today: "When you're up against a struggle, that shatters all your dreams, and your hopes have been cruelly crushed by Satan's manifested schemes, and you feel the urge within you to submit to earthly fear, don't let the faith you're standing in seem to disappear. Praise the Lord; He will work through those who praise Him. Praise the Lord, for our God inhabits praise. Praise the Lord; for the chains that seem to bind you serve only to remind you that they drop powerless behind you when you praise Him. Now, Satan is a liar and he wants to make us think that we are paupers, when he knows himself we're children of the King.

So, lift up the mighty shield of faith for the battle must be won. We know that Jesus Christ has risen and the work's already done. Praise the Lord; He will work through those who praise Him.

Praise the Lord; for our God inhabits praise. Praise the Lord; for the chains that seem to bind you serve only to remind you that they drop powerless behind you when you praise Him. When you praise Him...When you praise, you praise the Lord. Praise the Lord."

The more I live, the more I see that the monsters we feared in our closets and under our beds are real, and are all around us.  They are more frightening than any we could have made up as children; they are nearer, and the most frightening part of all is, they live among us.  And because many times, they are even IN us if we are not careful--jealousy; selfishness; stubbornness; insecurity; rage--it becomes harder and harder, at times, to tell the good from the bad and the right from the wrong the older and more "set in our ways" we grow.  But just as the monsters are real, so are the heroes: they, too, live among us, and in us, and we meet them and ARE them every day: kindness; compassion; mercy; forgiveness; laying our lives down for those around us regardless of what we receive in return.  Each day we make a choice: to defeat the monsters or become them.  We are defined by what we tolerate and allow to grow...as individuals; as couples; as families; as churches; as nations and leaders and "heads of State."  As children, we knew that nothing could happen once the monsters were "chased" out of the closet, and beds properly checked; the darkness was kept out, and we slept in the security of knowing those in authority over us would keep us safe (at least, in an "ideal" world; I know that, for many, the reality was the opposite for the same reasons explored, here).  We grow, and we forget that things were simple: that bad is bad, and good is good; we allow fears to creep into our hearts and mold us with each circumstance; we forget what we once longed for and what we once believed.

Do you remember singing in the dark at the top of your lungs as children?  Do you remember holding the hand of someone you loved, and feeling the "safety" come back?  If you never experienced that, do you remember the longing, and can you imagine it, here?  There is so much going on in our world.  I'm reminded of it, daily, in the people I counsel and the situations I step into to intervene as situations allow.  From Thailand to Tahiti, there are dangers, and hurt, and violence, and oppression--if not seen on a national scale, in homes, behind closed doors.  Children are left alone; the penniless wait for answers; the sick are waiting on healing; heartaches, and loneliness, and despair so dark it outshines any darkness we once faced under our beds is becoming apparent and real in our "grown-up" worlds.  And, yet, there is a light.  There is, yet, goodness.  Habakkuk, when faced with situations graver than we will ever know--even in our modern world--said, "Put your trust in God, for I will YET praise Him."  Somehow, if inside of us, we hold onto freedom, and life, and love, and truth, and do not let the light go out, if we continue to believe that God is good, and that He will not leave us, His love is a blanket that wraps around us no matter how harshly the winds may  blow.  Though we may still weep, and grieve the losses and the "waiting," we realize that we are not alone; there is a Hand holding ours keeping us, yet, in "safety" no matter what the day may bring.  Like children, we can lift our voices and praise Him; we can magnify Him and trust Him until that trust brings rest to our minds, and shows us a course of action.  And when there is no action that can be taken--no course that can be run--we wait in His arms knowing that He is still good.  He has overcome the darkness.  He has made a world this world cannot touch, and has promised to take us, there.  We can be like those of Hebrews 11, who in spite of all threats of violence, held onto a world they saw with distant eyes, and found courage when there was no courage to be found. They stated plainly that they were citizens of a Kingdom never shaken; even in laying down their lives to stand for Truth and Life, they won.  Their legacy remains.  The monsters of their time could not erase the light those courageous people shone, and so, too, are we if we refuse to bow before fear and despair.  May we love with all that is in us; may we sow goodness, and kindness, and freedom, and stand against the darkness.  And may the world hear, each day, as we lie down to rest, a song.  With voices that shake, perhaps, but voices that cannot stop trusting in the One who knows our frame, may we lie down each night praising His Name.  He is good.  He is with us.  He HAS won.  And THAT will give us courage when we awaken, again, each next day.

The Incurable Wound

I read an article, this morning, about the "incurable wound," and went to research it.  I've been thinking so much, lately about wounds: wounds we have; wounds we cause; wounds that are caused by our refusing to let God touch those hidden, bleeding places.  What happens when someone with a genuine wound is discarded and thrown away because they are seen as "weak" or "damaged"?  And on the opposite scale, what happens when someone refuses to let that wound be healed, and it begins to ooze, and fester, and "damage" those around them (anger; pride; violence; coarse jesting; belittling; manipulating; hatred; sexual sin)?  Should those who love them stay and be destroyed, or call out to those wounded from a place where they can be made whole?  In a battle, we treat those who are wounded; we treat them with compassion and love; we do all we can to see them restored and "in the fight" again; we try to help them make it home.  We "leave no man behind."  And, in a battle, due to the critical nature of time and the needs of others awaiting care, if someone refuses treatment--is happy with the wound and pretends that nothing is wrong--we can't do anything else but hope they let us help them, and begin to treat the ones we can.
As I looked at "incurable wounds," I saw that in each instance, the Lord answered that sin had made the wound "incurable", but that, really, He was able (and longing) to heal.  In my mind, I found several unanswered questions before this information.  Does our own sin cause all our wounds?  What about Job and Jeremiah?  God gave them the same reply, and yet, Job was hailed as a "righteous" man, and Jeremiah was God's spokesperson to Israel.  How could sin have made their wounds incurable?  
James says that sin is knowing what is right to do, and not doing it; Micah 6:8 says, "He has told you, oh man, what is good: but to do justice; to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God."  Is it possible that we can do everything "right", and fail in the face of others' sins and weakness towards us?  Is it possible that, just as Matthew 24 states, after brother betrays brother, "the love of many grows cold"?  Is it possible that, when Jeremiah cried out in Jeremiah 15, he had become disillusioned at speaking over and over, again, to the people of Israel only to see them throw his warnings back at him and turn his concerns into ridicule and persecution (even throwing Jeremiah in jail accusing him of treachery and betrayal)?  Could his heart have become discouraged and broken at feeling rejected daily, and seeing nothing change around him?  Could others' sins have made him hard? He cries out in Jeremiah 18, "Would that I had never been born!"  With Job, also, Job despairs of life, and cries out, "All that I feared has come upon me."
I think of those in persecution who pray for their captors: who sing with tears streaming down battered faces; who lift broken hands to bless and never despise, and how the same voices that cry out without shame against sin and injustice--never excusing the sin--pray for those who have fallen.  In our own trials and afflictions, we, rather, cry out like Job, "I KNEW it!  All I feared has come upon me; like Jeremiah, 'my wound is incurable.'"
Could it be that the sins of others can have an affect upon our hearts; rather than standing for truth, and righteousness, and freedom, we become involved in a "campaign"; someone must pay; someone must answer for the hurt I am walking through?  Or in fear of being judged, we refuse to speak out when others are belittled; we lay burdens on them ("YOU must be perfect; YOU must do more"), and refuse to listen when they point out genuine oppression. And in either extreme, in those moments, we, too, open doors, because our hearts move far away from kindness (hating the sin, and speaking against it, but never letting our voices rise in rage or violence; lovingly pointing out those obvious things that break God's heart even as we stoop to wash the feet of those who have walked in those paths of "filthiness"; knowing we all are capable of failure; seeing others through God's eyes of love while never compromising the truth).  If we allow ourselves to focus on all that is wrong, instead of continually turning our eyes back to Jesus--speaking only against what breaks His heart, but never trying to "break" others or "make them" listen to us, we will fall...every time.
Jeremiah cried out: "Why is my pain perpetual and my wound incurable, which refuses to be healed?  Will You surely be to me like an unreliable stream, as waters that fail?  (then, the Lord reassures Jeremiah) "If you return, then I will bring you back; you shall stand before Me, if you separate the precious from the vile, you shall be as My mouth.  Let them return to you, but you must not return to them.  And I will make you to this people a fortified bronze wall; and they will fight against you, but they will not prevail against you.  For I am with you to save and deliver you.  I WILL deliver you from the hand of the wicked, and I WILL redeem you from the grip of the terrible."  Jeremiah was not to seek others' approval, or even for them to listen to him; he was not to mix his personality and his opinions with God's, and not to refuse to call others' to repent for OBVIOUS sins over fear of what they might say or that he could seem "quarrelsome." This can get confusing, but we should keep clear in our hearts that Jesus didn't scold people for not praying or reading the Scriptures--He called everyone to walk with Him; to know Him; to receive His love and put His opinions first; He never quarreled or broke those who were already broken, but He called them to lay aside those things that were bringing death to them and separating them from God.  We must--by our lives--show others' God's love; refuse to compromise in the face of sin and say, "oh, it's okay, don't worry about it," but at the same time, not make our focus OTHER'S walk with God, but be willing, when we're in a position to speak, and see sin played out before us, to call those individuals to lay those sins aside and let God bring new life.  We must make worship of God our goal, and out of that place, walk in kindness, speaking up for what is "just" and "noble" and "honorable" and "right." Not seeking to control others, but to bless them and bring them freedom at every turn (which means, at times, not allowing ourselves to be abused or drawn into hiding sin, so that we can still stand for freedom). And, God will be with us.
In Isaiah, God says, "Even in your old age, I will be the same, and even in your graying years, I will yet carry you!  I have done it, and I shall carry you, and I will sustain you; I shall deliver you" (Isaiah 46:4).

I think about these things, and I think about our own lives.  It is noble to stand against unrighteousness; it is honorable to stand against the "vile", and stand for purity, honesty, truth, freedom, love, closeness with God.  But when others' opinions (that they MUST hear me; that they MUST pay for my loneliness, or hurt, or fear, or betrayal); when my need to be heard creeps in and takes over, I lose sight of what is truly important: God cares for me.  If He has called me to speak, His love will be enough; there will be no "desperation"; no violence; no hatred; no vengeance; no control; no drowning out or suffocating others' rights to speak in my speaking.  There will only be love, and tears, and compassion over obvious wounds in the Body of Christ--obvious sins that are festering coming from lies individuals have believed, and compromise that has been allowed to separate those individuals from God.  But we will stoop, not stomp--we will gently wash with the water of the Word--seeking healing and deliverance and restoration for those individuals: not "skipping steps" or "glossing over" the damage that has been done, but speaking with compassion, as if we were the ones who fell; standing with them as they choose to let God heal them, but calling them to be made whole.  There are those painful times, as with Jeremiah and Isaiah, where we realize that others will not be made whole; then we must love them, and pray for them, but walk away and refuse to be drawn in to those same sins; we must not become bitter, or hardened, or judgmental, or feel betrayed, but say like David, "How the mighty have fallen in Israel"; we do not stand still and let their spears go in (not hiding truth or refusing to speak it), but we weep with compassion and pain at wounds that will not be made whole.
Let us separate the precious from the vile.  Let us not call darkness light; let us not say that speaking out against sin is "gossip" or needing root issues to be addressed is being "cruel".  Let us not say that our haughty, judging, "I know better" attitudes is calling others to righteousness in gray areas where they MUST know freedom to make their own decisions; let us not say that gently speaking against injustice and blatant sin (immorality; theft; control, etc.) is refusing to love.  Let us not manipulate others to see as WE see, lest our own wounds become incurable and our fears become multiplied, but let us be ever ready to speak out against injustice and compromise knowing that, if everyone else fails us, God will love us and heal our broken hearts.  Let us keep our eyes on Jesus; let us love as He loved; let us see as He sees; let us not make our opinions the goal, but, rather, seek daily to walk as He walked--willing to lay our lives down for others and longing to see their wounds cured.  May we let our hearts break before we would reach out and wound others; let us know that wounding, at times, is in refusal to speak up at what is right before us; at what God wants to remove so that others can know Him (again, obvious sins, not our own perceptions). "Good things as well as bad, you know, are caught by a kind of infection. If you want to get warm you must stand near the fire: if you want to be wet you must get into the water. If you want joy, power, peace, eternal life, you must get close to, or even into, the thing that has them. They are not a sort of prize which God could, if He chose, just hand out to anyone. They are a great fountain of energy and beauty spurting up at the very centre of reality. If you are close to it, the spray will wet you: if you are not, you will remain dry. Once a man is united to God, how could he not live forever?" --C.S. Lewis

Courage Cont....

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” ― Nelson Mandela
2 Corinthians 10:4-5 says, "For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal (earthly; weak; dependent on my state of emotions or desires), but MIGHTY in God for the tearing down of strongholds (places where my mind has become "entrenched"; places in my thoughts where darkness, and terror, and oppression hide) and arguments (those lies that seem so real and fight for me to stay in the places that feel familiar versus what brings truth and life) and every high and lofty thing (stubbornness; foolish pride) that exalts itself against the knowledge (intimacy; trust; faith in) Christ."
I read the most amazing quote, yesterday.  August Wilson once said, "

Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.” In all of these verses and quotes, the message is the same.  There is a wrestling that must come if truth is to win out over the lies that we often tell ourselves.  From birth until about 6, everything we will believe about the world becomes solid in our minds, and begins to feel real to our hearts, and everything we encounter later in life is filtered through this knowledge.  For example, just as we learn what is "acceptable" in social settings ("Don't slouch;" "Pick up your things"; "Don't embarrass us"), we learn what is "acceptable" to think and feel ("Boys don't cry"; "Don't be ridiculous"; "How can you even think that?").  Slowly, we set aside things like freedom and faith, and learn, rather, to be cautious and successful; we learn how to sound "wise."  There is something to be said for not speaking out of anger--for setting aside behavior and speech that can hurt those around us (belittling; back-biting; slander; hatred; rage).  As we grow in truth and love, though, those things naturally fall away from us: we cannot walk in truth and freedom--letting God's love fill our hearts, and not feel a natural tendency towards walking in love and freedom with those around us.
So, I'm not speaking, here, of giving ourselves permission to become selfish, or shallow, or boastful, or rude, but, rather, to face the fears that cause those same attitudes in our hearts.  How many people around the world hear over and over again in their minds, "You are nothing.  You're doing things all wrong.  You'll never fit in.  You're so different from everyone.  There's something wrong with you"?  We are harder on ourselves than others will ever be, and we don't realize that the voice we allow to whisper all day long, while it feels as familiar as our own, comes from something else: something hiding in a stronghold in our minds; something that has become a part of us, but like a parasite, must be triumphed over and sent along its way.  Those arguments--those fears--those "high places" where we feel so sure of what we see and "know" are what keep us from stepping out and becoming who we were always meant to be.  Doctors; teachers; lawyers; janitors; graduates; drop-outs; out-going; shy: how differently would we tackle those dreams inside of us if we were no longer so aware of others watching?  If there were no longer a fear of failure and being "judged"...if we were able to accept criticism, and let it hone our skills and make us stronger, but never let it cause us to doubt what we were born to do, how differently would we live our lives?

So, how do we get to that place?  We wrestle!  "Do not go quietly into that good night, but rage, rage against the dying of the light."  With all that is inside of us, we learn who God is, and what He thinks about us, and we slowly begin to whisper those things to ourselves throughout the day.  In resisting the enemy (who is not flesh nor blood), we grow strong, and there comes a time where we are not simply "resisting", but "maintaining"; then, not simply "maintaining," but "taking ground"; then not simply "taking ground", but soaring out over the circumstances secure in the hope of our calling: believing that God is with us and even in failure, will cause us to overcome.  We must sow so that we can reap...sow thoughts of peace, and trust, and life, and joy, and there will come a time where--just as when we were small and growing in our beliefs about the world through what others told us, we begin to believe in our hearts those new "truths" we are speaking.  "I can do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me."  "I am loved and highly favored."  "The King of the Universe knows my name, and walks with me."  "Even if my own father and mother reject me, with all this, the Lord will stand by me."  "He is changing me daily into His image; I give HIM permission to change me and I work with what He asks me to do...I don't have to 'help' by telling Him what to change."  Perfect love casts out fear.  His love is perfect; it will always be enough.  

This is a call to "war"; a call to "wrestle"; a call to push against the lies, and consciously speak truth: He loves us.  All fear must go.  All doubt must go.  He will never leave us.  He will never forsake us.  And that's all we need to know.

"In your presence; that´s where I am strong: in Your presence, O Lord, my God.
In Your presence; that´s where I belong: seeking Your face; touching Your grace
In the cleft of the Rock...in Your presence O God.
I want to go where the rivers cannot overflow me; where my feet are on the Rock.
I want to hide where the blazing fire cannot burn me; in your presence O God.
I want to hide where the flood of evil cannot reach me: where I´m covered by the blood.
I want to be where the schemes of darkness cannot touch me; in Your presence O God.
You are my firm foundation. I trust in You all day long.
I am Your child and Your servant, and you are my Strength and my Song. You´re my Song.
Seeking Your face; touching Your grace in the cleft of the Rock.
In Your presence O God. In Your presence. In Your presence O God."
Isaiah 8:12 says, "Do not call conspiracy everything this people calls a conspiracy and do not fear what they fear."  (NIV)
Judges 6:10 (NKJV) says, "Do not fear the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell."
I have known, and sensed, and seen from the time that I was small that to fear is to worship.  When I fear something, I say that whatever I fear is the largest thing that exists: that nothing is bigger or able to stop it.  I therefore worship that thing, in the sense that it becomes magnified in my life.  That's why I love this song: "I want to hide where the flood of evil cannot reach me: where I'm covered by the blood."  There is a place in the Lord where I hide all that I am and all that I hope to be, and nothing can destroy my trust in Him.  I watched a movie the other night where the lead actor says, "Do not be mistaken.  Danger is real.  Fear is not."
Fear--dreading what will come; creating in my head the scenarios I'm afraid to see play out--will in and of themselves paralyze me and cause an affect far greater than what the scenario itself could cause.  "How do I then become unafraid?" is our cry.  How to stop the tape that plays over and over in our heads?  If fear acts as faith (speaking what will be, and many times bringing those things which I fear to pass by affecting how I operate), then I must have faith in something even greater, and let THAT be the tape which plays constantly in my head.
  "Perfect love casts out fear." Therein lies the answer.  We must become so in love with Him--so secure in His Presence, that we trust that there is nothing that can come where He will not stand by us.  There is no circumstance that can alter His love or His care.  He has thought of everything--taken each factor into account--and He is walking beside me.  What, then, should I be afraid of?  Famine; nakedness; peril; loss; illness; pain; persecution; even death: He has taken them all into consideration and overcome them all.  Even in death, He has provided the ultimate victory; there is nothing that can win as long as, deep inside myself, I do not let the worship of His greatness stop; I do not allow myself to become focused on other, lesser "gods."  They are powerless to save, and even more powerless to destroy; the Creator of all the Universe knows my name, and loves me, and will make a way for me at every step.  No matter what happens around me, in His love, even in death, in Him, I've won.

In this same movie, there were creatures that could only find the humans through the human fear.  As long as the person remained calm, that person remained invisible.  I want to confuse the devil.  I want him to stop and listen for my tears, and faint away at hearing a song that no scheme of hell can silence.  I want my every breath, even in my weeping, to worship Him; I want there to be no doubt, at any moment, in Whom I have put my trust.  This doesn't mean that we will not have trials or tribulations, or that they will not take our breath away, at times.  But even breathless, let us wait, and trust, and hope and praise.  He is faithful, and He will ever faithful be.  And that....is enough.

"Bind us together, Lord"

“Bind us together, Lord; bind us together with cords that cannot be broken. Bind us together, Lord; bind us together. Bind us together with love.
There is only one God; there is only one King. There is only one body; that is why we sing.
Made for the glory of God; purchased by His precious Son; born with the right to be clean, for Jesus the victory has won.  You are the family of God.
You are the promise divine. You are God's chosen desire. You are the glorious new wine.”

Ephesians 4:1-6 "I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to walk worthy of the calling with which you were called, with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all."

What does it mean to be one body?  I’m trying to imagine saying to any part of myself, “I just don’t like you.  Go away.  You’re not part of me.”  I could try to lose a finger, or a foot, or an ear or a nose, but even if I succeeded, I wouldn’t accomplish my mission without terrible pain, mental stress, and possibly infection or even death.  In the event that losing a part of myself were necessary (such as in an accident, or surgery, or illness, to save the rest of me), I would grieve that part which I had lost, and although I could go on to do great things, the loss would change me in ways the outside person could never understand.  In those such cases, after the grieving process, I could grow stronger, and reach higher, and feel a push to do more than I could have done before, but I would always remember—if only in a wistful moment—the part that I had lost.

What about on the flip side of this equation?  Because something is a part of me, do I protect it and refuse to treat it when I find disease; do I imagine that nothing is wrong, and refuse even to pray for my body to feel stronger, again?  Do I leave things “unwashed” because they’re mine, and therefore lovely (even when smelly); do I let my hair grow out until I trip over it as it spills out into the hall; do I let my fingernails and toenails twist and curl because I refuse to trim them; do I say, “Leave those feet alone; it’s just the way they are (that they smell when they run); you should love them in all their smelliness; I’ll possibly wash them next year when they get ready”?

So, why do we refuse to speak up when a part of our Body is in need of cleansing; when at other times we attack, and isolate, and condemn our "less favorite ones" as if those parts had nothing to do with us?  “Bind us together, Lord; bind us together with love.”  When I am bound to something, I have to take it into account for every movement.  I wouldn’t run if my leg were tied to my bed post.  I would need to see how to move with the weight of my bed.  If I tie my arms to a watermelon, the weight of that watermelon would make my movements slower, and I would think twice before jumping up and down and causing that melon to explode all over me.  So, if I am bound to fellow believers in Christ, what they do affects my movements.  I cannot focus on their frailties, and refuse to move if none walk with me, but I keep in mind the reality that if one falls, I will grieve, and do what I can to restore.  I cannot ignore the sin, and say it isn’t there, or become enraged when others try to help that person see the sin (be it anger; lust; fear; pride; abuse, etc., I weigh the fruit by the Word of the Lord and recognize when something doesn’t line up with the way Jesus calls us to walk).  On the contrary, I realize that this sin can spill over and affect others, and with all gentleness, humility and love, I am willing to speak up when someone continually walks in a way that can affect the walk of all of us and don’t become defensive when those “Body parts” are encouraged to clean up.

But neither do I distance myself, and judge as if I am not a part of them; I cannot accuse, and condemn, and criticize, and add burdens that I myself am not willing to bear.  Paul said, “I judge no man nor am I myself judged.”  This is the same Paul who fought with Barnabas over John Mark’s seeming betrayal; who called the Corinthians babies “unready for meat.”  So, then, judging is not cheering one another on and calling each other to keep growing, and keep climbing higher, and to let God have His way in our lives.  Judgment is not taking the “water of the Word,” and gently washing when washing is needing—not our perceived slights or offences, but genuine “dirt” obvious to the eye that can cause an infection if left untreated.  Judgment is saying, “You are not me, and I am not you, and you should be what I want you to be.”  We beat ourselves up, then: wounding our own heart by constantly condemning others.  May God give us wisdom; may He help us clean out the old, dry, caked-on mud of attitudes, and actions, and stale beliefs that only bring us confusion; may we line everything up with what He says in His Word and not hide the “junk” when we see it in ourselves and others.  But may we “wash” with gentleness; may we “clean” with compassion, and may God, truly, “bind us together with love.”

Psalm 121

Bottom of Form

"Lord, when I look at You, my tears just melt away; a peace comes over me and I don't feel afraid.

Lord, when You look at me, I know I'm not alone; my spirit soars above the pain my heart has known.

Hold me; don't let me go. I need You with all my soul. There is nothing I will face without the grace to see me through when I look at You. Lord, when I look at You, the world becomes so small.

 The burdens that I carry: I can let them fall. When You look at me, I know that I am safe. 

You're closer than my very breath and help me pray. Hold me; don't let me go. I need You with all my soul. There is nothing I will face without the grace to see me through when I look at You. When I look at You. When You look at me. When I look at You." --Kathy Troccoli

Today, an amazing (for me) thing happened.  When I pulled out of the parking lot for my lunch break at work, I saw all of Stone Mountain from a distance across the way.  Because Stone Mountain is further away and usually hidden by the smog or the clouds, I don’t see it unless I’m at a certain part down-town.  That in and of itself was amazing, but what really took my breath away for a moment is that I spent all last night hearing over and over in my spirit, “I lift my eyes to the hills from where my help comes.  My help comes from the Lord, Maker of Heaven and earth.”  Can you remember being very small, and seeing someone come to get you from the nursery at church, or day-care, or kindergarten?  You feel that all is right with the world; you feel safe and protected in the "roller coasters" of life; someone bigger than you is observing you in your “environment,” and you feel their pride in you, and their strength taking care of you.  Suddenly, you are lifted from childish squabbles, or waiting to go home and eat, or a feeling of unfamiliarity and longing for a “familiar” face.  As the castaway says arriving, finally, rescued and home, “LAND!”

There is so much going on around us.  From Gaza to Iraq; from Africa to Costa Rica; there are frightening situations and thousands lost waiting for an answer.  Our situations pale in comparison to famine, and plague, and war, and, yet, to the husband or wife waiting for a spouse to come home after a sudden abandonment; for children longing for their parents to stop fighting; for a single mother or father wondering how to pay the bills, each situation is just as relevant and just as unique to the world of that person facing it “alone.”  Then, for a brief moment, we catch a glimpse of God’s greatness; we feel a sense of His nearness.  A gentle touch; a kind word; a timely provision pulls us out of our misery to say, “Lift your eyes to the hills.  He has not forsaken you.  He will not abandon you.  Even in the valley of the shadow of death, you are passing through; this will not have the final word.”  Even in death, for those that believe, there is a resurrection.  There is nothing that can happen that He has not accounted for; He has won, and His eyes are upon us.

May you look to Him, today. May you feel His arms around you.  “He is here; holy; holy.  He is here.  Amen.  He is here.  Hallelujah.  I will bless His Name, again.  He is here.  Listen closely; hear Him calling out your name.  He is here. You can touch Him.  You will never be the same.” (Gaither vocal band)

The Maple

When walking in the forests green

To valley wakening--kissed by spring--

I saw a tall, inviting maple:

One branch held a child's swing.

 

The swing blew gently in the wind

As silver leaves untouched by care

Laughed with a joy that circumstance

Could not erase through cold nor wear.

 

The roots went deeply in the ground

With steadiness grown by the years

That learned through Heaven how to stand

And how to lay down pains and fears.

 

In spring as new life rings the dawning

End of winter's bitter cold,

Bright, budding flowers laced with red

Burst forth in glory manifold.

 

And in the summer's lengthened days,

It dances in the breezes soft
And sings beside the willows there;

Its graceful branches held aloft.

 

There in the fall to dawn with golden

Hues of change, yet pressing on,

The silver maple sings of life determined

Hope that's never gone.

 

And in the winter, as it sleeps, it roots grow

Only deeper still;

Its branches reaching up toward Heaven;

Its song declaring, "Have Your will."

There, in the spring, as long I stood

And gazed upon the maple, sweet,

I lay beneath its branches and I smiled

At the joyous beat

 

Of rhythm as its branches swayed;

The swing rejoicing as it played.
"Peace ever triumphs," came the song;

There in the maple, Heaven displayed.

Growing Young

"I've gone so far from my home; I've seen the world and I have known so many secrets I wish now I did not know .'Cause they have crept into my heart. They have left it cold and dark and bleeding; bleeding and falling apart. Everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry, but I've been around enough to know that that was the lie that held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons. Well, we are children no more; we have sinned and grown old, and our Father still waits and He watches down the road to see the crying boys come running back to His arms and be growing young. Growing young. 
I've seen silver turn to dross: seen the very best there ever was, and I'll tell you it ain't worth what it costs. I remember my father's house…what I wouldn't give right now just to see him and hear him tell me that he loves me so much.  Everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry, but I've been around enough to know that that was the lie that held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons. Well, we are children no more; we have sinned and grown old, and our Father still waits and He watches down the road to see the crying boys come running back to His arms. When I thought that I was all alone, it was your voice I heard calling me back home and I wonder, now, Lord, what it was that made me wait so long?  What kept You waiting for me all that time? Was Your love stronger than my foolish pride? Will You take me back, now? Take me back and let me be Your child ‘cause I've been broken, now; I've been saved. I've learned to cry, and I've learned how to pray, and I'm learning. I'm learning even I can be changed…Growing young."

I’ve been thinking, lately: this is a season of change.  This is not the first such season we have had; as Solomon said in Ecclesiastes, “There is nothing new under the sun.  What has been will be, again.”  In my heart, I feel a certain heaviness even as I look with joy to all God is doing in His people and around the world.  I see Him waiting with arms wide open to hold us close, and dry each tear, and whisper His gentle promises.  The heaviness I feel are all those things which keep us back from those places God longs to take us.  He longs to give us rest, and peace, and freedom, but our own ideas about what’s required of us holds us to a time of fear, or failure, or striving to have everything “just so.”  We either shy away from greatness—convinced that we will eventually fall, or we accept a role of leadership which takes us deeper and deeper into needing to never fail.  In all of that, I see men and women of destiny hiding their tears from the rest of the world; I see them struggle on their own; I see lights flickering on brightly and then dimming out with a desperate last cry.  As David said, “How the mighty have fallen in Israel!”

In Saul’s day, Saul was never convinced that he could be king.  He hid from responsibility when God called him to come forward and lead, and then ran away from God’s instructions in order to do things a “better” way (in his mind) out of insecurity and fear.  That same fear of failure which motivated Saul to hide when Samuel came to anoint Saul to be king is the same fear that caused Saul to hold back the spoils of war in a display of “greatness” and then hide from what he had done.  How many leaders run from vulnerability; from transparency; away from leading out of a broken dependence upon the Lord?  How many run into places of striving; of perfectionism; of fear of failure; of needing everything to be “bigger”; “greater”; “faster”; “better”?  Even holiness, and private study, and individual prayer then become a means of “pushing” themselves into perfectionism, and less and less a place of rest where they can just “be” and by His love be set free.  What we do does not make us who we are; what we do flows out of a place of what is already inside of us.

I weep for Robin Williams who entertained the world but never found anyone who could give him answers or dry his tears; I weep for Whitney Houston who sang of Jesus, and rescuing love, but never felt “at home” enough to let her guard down and let love save her; I weep for their loneliness; I weep for lights gone out.  I weep for John Lennon who asked missionaries in Asia, “What is truth?” and that they were so blinded by his stardom, they felt they couldn’t help.  I weep for Christian leaders struggling to keep standing and all the while dealing with private sin and pain, but unable to reach for help for fear it will make them “weaker”: I weep for those who make the struggle their identity, and out of fear of not being able to change, adopt a stance of, “This is how I am, and God loves me, so deal with it.”  I weep for both extremes, and for the sheep in the middle with no shepherd while Jesus stands weeping ready to gather them into His arms and make them His.

David cried out when his brothers accused him at “playing” at being a soldier before the threats of Goliath, “What have I done?  Is there not a cause (a reason to speak up)?”  Around the world, babies are dying; young men and women are sold into slavery or enticed by drugs or prostitution; compromise begins in the small things with what we put on T.V. or listen to in our headsets to “check out” from the pain.  The words we allow ourselves to say (spilling over from the pain or anger in our hearts); the distance we put between ourselves and those who love us; the opinions we allow to rule us as if those same opinions are God: all these things are nothing new.  Jesus rebuked the Pharisees saying, “You search (anxiously poring over and memorizing) the Scriptures, because you think they give life and it is they which testify of Me!”  In other words, we can do all the right things and never know His peace and rest; we can force ourselves to “measure up”; we can pore over His Word without letting that same Word breathe life into our relationship with Him and from there into the relationships around us. 

So, how do we know if we truly know Him or are just seeking to know about Him; how can we tell if we are only His servants, or if we’ve let ourselves become “sons”?  The answer is in the following questions: How much do we say, “I have to do more”; “I have to get into His Presence”; “I have to put Him first,” and how do we say, “Jesus I choose You.  Thank You for helping me grow.  Thank You for what You’re doing in me.  Thank You for what You’ve already done.  Thank You that Your Presence is always with me; help me make time to stop and see how much You’re already there.”

There is a place of rest in Him—a place where we stop striving.  In that place, we do even more than we did before; we see greater fruit than we’ve ever known.  But it is all coming out of a relationship with Him; growing as babies grow by leaning on their mother’s chest.  Each baby (in a “perfect” world) learns to talk, and crawl, and walk, and eat, and sleep, and then work, and play, and grow, and dream.  May we never be too big to cry as those babies do, but may we never try to hold in the place of “remaining” a child out of fear of growing, and possibly stumbling.  He will catch us; He will teach us; He will lead us, but we must keep moving forward, and have the courage to say, “Jesus (not my works; not my pride; not my greatness; not my relationships, or ministry, or reputatation, or success), JESUS is all I need.”

Blessed are you when people…falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Matthew 5:11

Blessed are you when people…falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Matthew 5:11

I read something, today, that made me sad and made me think.  In some parts of the world, Christian pastors and believers are being shown on T.V. with nothing more said than, "enemies of the State." They are then shunned and banned from many places, and neighbors and even family members want nothing more to do with these Christians simply because of a statement (with no evidence), "enemies of the State."  I was sad for these Christian believers, but as hard as life can be for them, I was even sadder for a different group of people.  I was saddened by the growing tendency to say, and to believe, a lie.
As I've traveled around the world, I've been part of several different groups and many deep friendships and have both the blessing and the burden, at times, of seeing individuals up close.  I have seen how the truth sets people free; how a kind word can cause the hopeless to come alive; how a gentle encouragement can give someone the strength to continue to stand.  And, I've seen how many times, we try to silence what we don't understand: we see it as a threat to us; or we refuse to speak out in what we know we should say.  In those times, we allow the "powerful" to continue in oppression; we allow the "intolerant" to label any voice that isn't theirs as "argumentative"; "unnecessary"; "gossip"; "trouble."  And such has always been from the time Cain killed Abel rather than face the conviction Abel brought to the time a group of leaders labeled Paul and Silas as "those who troubled the world."  Those leaders were not basing the claim against Paul and Silas on facts, but the Bible says in Acts 17 that those leaders were "filled with jealousy" because the multitudes were listening, and were beginning to believe.
We are blessed when men speak falsely of us because we stand up for Jesus: for freedom; for truth; for abundant life in Him.  If we are persecuted for helping the needy; for teaching the Bible; for doing what's right (whatever brings life, and hope, and truth, and keeps integrity); we are blessed and God, Himself, will care for us and comfort our hearts.  There are times when it is courageous to speak up and not let darkness silence us: where we see the weak being oppressed, it is courage to try to help.  Where we have the freedom to speak, we must be bold in proclaiming faith and joyful when we are "misunderstood."
 But, let us speak with clear evidence; discernment that tears down, and criticizes, and wounds with no facts to back it up is not discernment but jealousy and fear.  May we never be on the side of "saying falsely all kinds of evil" out of our own envy, or wounded pride or fear.  I am saddened for the one who begins a phrase with, "I think this person is...(fill in the blank)" with no evidence, but an agenda: an attempt to "re-gain" what we think we've lost (prestige; the spotlight; attention; that prime place at work, or in ministry, or in our social circle).  We label, and wound, and with just a word put someone on the outside, and make no move to comfort or restore.  There are two extremes: one is to say nothing when confronted with actions that cause oppression (as small as sarcasm and belittling

; as huge as oppressive judgment and control).  The other is to, with no evidence or actions observed, put our labels on individuals and demand that they behave as we dictate with no rhyme or reason as to what's noble or true.  May God bless those who are standing--from workplaces, to Africa--for love, and hope, and freedom.  May He comfort those who mourn and bring truth for those who are falsely accused.  May they know the joy of following in the steps of One Who was falsely accused all the way to the cross to make a way for us to know Him; may those times of persecution in our lives bring others closer to Him.
And may He give us wisdom as to when to speak, and what to speak.  May we never use our freedom to sow seeds of doubt and suspicion; may we be a voice for those who cannot speak for themselves.  May His heart and His words guide us, and may a hurting, broken world find a safe place in Him through us.

"Melody's Song"

Keith Green ("Melody's Song"): "You wanna' love with me; love with me, then.  I only ask that you still be my friend.  For there are many with friendships unknown.  They live together, but really, alone, and the days go their ways in silence...tense hours of woe.  We do not mean to have it so.  I know that sometimes, I'm harder to love.  I thrash out blindly like nothing thought of. So won't you help me, to help you be sure.  God only knows that I want to be pure, but the world keeps its promise to daily--oh, let me down, but it can't hide what I have found...And the days go their ways in blessings: moments of truth.  We truly dare not waste our youth."
Keith Green wrote this to his wife, Melody, back in the 70's, but I've been listening to it over and over.  Some days on the "mission field", I put it on repeat and cry as I sing along to it over and over...asking God to create a pure, loving heart in me.  This world lets us down; there are so many circumstances in which we find ourselves struggling to find direction or holding on with all we're worth waiting for the answers to come.  Why is it, in those moments, that we fight against those we love the most; against God, Himself, by asking if we can really trust Him?  We flounder and flail and lash out at those who are nearest and dearest to us much like the victims in the burn unit who recoil at even the slightest touch.
Meanwhile, all the time, God calls to us to turn to Him; whether we are 8 or 80, life is precious, and we truly, "Dare not waste our youth."  Each breath is fleeting: like the sand in the hour glass, each moment we live will never return again.  Do we want to waste those moments shouting; demanding our rights; willing the world to turn on "our command," and wishing each second away longing for things to be easier?  Or is there a way to, somehow, by faith, put our feet upon His--foot for foot--and let Him spin us around on the dance floor of life even as our tears spill upon His chest?  Can we dare to lift our faces to the wind and let the cool blast dry our cheeks; can we sing into the harsh breeze that tries to knock us down?
Psalm 46 says, in verses 4 through 11, "There is a river whose streams make glad the city of our God...God is in the midst of (us); we will not be moved.  God will help (us) just at the break of dawn. The nations raged; the kingdoms were moved.  He uttered His voice; the earth melted.  The Lord of Hosts is with us: the God of Jacob is our Refuge.  Come, behold the works of the Lord...He makes wars to cease to the end of the earth.  He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two; He burns the chariot in the fire.  Be still, and KNOW that I am God (or, in other words, "I am with you; I'm not going anywhere; rest; trust; I've got this").  I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted in the earth ("Let me be bigger than any problem; fear; anger or doubt you can name").  The Lord of Hosts IS with us; the God of Jacob IS our Refuge!" Amen!!

Truth

 
 Lately, I've been thinking about truth.  Pilate said in a cry of despair, "What IS truth?"  When faced with the possibility that all he'd ever known had been a lie, and seeing the light of Jesus' love and sacrifice, Pilate chose to turn away and go back to believing what he did before.  He could never say, however, that he hadn't known--although for but a moment--the truth.  Agrippa made the same decision years later when confronted by the same truth spoken through Paul.  Looking at Paul's chains and the price of "freedom," Agrippa chose to stay in slavery--captured by chains much deeper and much harder to see.  Which of the two was truly free?  Agrippa exclaimed, "Almost, you persuade me to be a Christian."  As Isaiah 44:20 says, Agrippa, deluded by the cares of this world and feeding on ashes (the fleeting riches of a kingdom in decline, and the prestige and honor given by fickle man), couldn't bring himself to ask, "Is this thing I have in my right-hand (in highest esteem) a lie?"
     Jesus said that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life and that no one comes to the Father but by Him.  The Father loves us so much that He gave a way back to the Truth and back to the center of His heart.  By Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection, He paid the price for us to walk with Him, again.  His blessed Holy Spirit warns us when we go to the left or the right, and keeps us grounded and steady so that we have the strength to follow Him.  Some people say that God can't love us outside of Jesus.  I say that God loved us so much, He gave up that which was most precious to Him to "win us back."  Jesus said He can do nothing He doesn't see the Father do.  That means the love we see in Jesus--His life; His mercy; His compassion; His faithfulness--is how God the Father feels towards us.  God isn't some distant, jealous God waiting to squash us when we get it wrong.  Rather, if it says God is a jealous God, it means that as a loving Father, He longs for us to know Him; to never wander away; to not be fooled by the trappings of this world that will only cause us pain and keep us from the things He wants to give that will last us longer than the temporary pleasures we might try to grasp.  He longs to bring us to His side and teach us what is truly important, and against all the lies, and idols, and false rulers we accept: against them, He wars and thunders, and fights "jealously" to draw us back to Him where we are finally whole.

    At the same time Jesus reached for the lost and hurting, He overturned the money changers and railed against the Pharisees.  He declared His house a House of praise.  He stood against sin, and stood for truth, and wept for the sinners even while he scolded the "saints."  So what does that tell us, today?  We must stand for truth and freedom.  We must speak out against sin, but love the sinner.  We aren't to be quiet in standing against injustice; control; religion that puts demands on us without drawing us into relationship with Jesus; idols that would take the place of God in our hearts.  But we are never to hurt one another in the name of "truth" and "freedom"; we aren't meant to be judging, and accusing, and letting our pride tell us that we know best what others should do.  Jesus said in Matthew 24, the day would come when people would think betrayal, judgment, criticism and fault-finding ("delivering" one another up to be crucified) were being done on behalf of God.  May He free us from such a plight!
If it is against sin, let us stand.  If it is against injustice, let us be heard bringing life and freedom.  Against hopelessness, let us bring hope.  Against sarcasm and bullying, let us speak out with peace and love. But if it is to enslave and dictate to others, let us be silent.  If it is to cause others to feel inadequate or "lost" without our opinions, let us find mercy and compassion.  May our voices only be heard drowning out the darkness, but never drowning out the beauty God has placed within each other.  May we find a way to lay our lives down, again, for the ones God loves (in other words: ALL mankind; He doesn't desire that one of them be lost).  Let us not compromise when confronted with sarcasm; indifference; control; religion; hatred; oppression, but let us truly be, "slow to speak; quick to listen, and quick to forgive."  May all we do bring freedom, and may we truly, "Know the Truth, and the Truth will set (us) free" (John 8:32).

"Not all who wander are lost...."

"Not all who wander are lost..." (J.R. Tolkien)

I love this poem.  I first saw it when I was traveling back to Costa Rica from Israel, by way of Germany, after having first gone to Holland to visit a dear friend.  I had also gone, that year, to Mexico, California, Nicaragua and Panama--not to mention the cities, and high-ways and bi-ways of Costa Rica.  At times, I wandered alone.  At times, I met up with friends, and family, and church members, and people I had never seen before (those were always a little scary).  My favorites were the times I was told things like, "Come outside the gate to a silver van, and look for a person with red hair; then, get inside."  "Change this amount of money at that money-changing window; walk outside and find this specific taxi; take it to this place and we'll see you there."  "Look for a pastor holding a Bible on a bench in center square."  Those are always adventurous, and I hold tight God's hand...feeling Him holding tightly to me.  Ignoring the butterflies and taking a deep breath, I jump (trying to follow carefully the instructions I've been giving).
So, I had to laugh at the message spoken to me by the sign in Tel-Aviv's airport.  "Yes, my dear, you are a wanderer. You've been up, and down, and all around.  But in your case, you are not escaping.  You are not hiding. You are not lost."  My grandmother told me in a letter when I was 15 that her favorite memory of me was in a blue dress when I was about 3 looking for Easter candy in her bushes at Royston, GA.  She said she knew, somehow, that I would brave into the great "unknown" looking for those lost souls and "treasures hidden in darkness" to bring them back to the Presence of the King (Jesus).  Psalm 84:5 says we are blessed if our hearts are set on pilgrimage: whether we wander to Africa, or to the corner store.  We are blessed to remember that life is a journey, and we wander every day closer to "Home."
So, here's to the travelers; the dreamers; the explorers; the ones brave enough to knock on your next-door-neighbor's door and say, "I brought this cake just for you to say, 'You're important.'"  May you venture ever nearer to the center of God's heart.  May you feel the breezes from Jordan's distant shore calling you onward as you roam.  You are not lost.  You move ever onward towards a day when "The crownless again shall be king."

It is Well

 "It is Well" was written by Horatio Spafford after losing the last of his children in a shipwreck at sea.  His son died of Scarlet Fever in 1870; his business investments were burned up in the 1871 Chicago Fire, and he decided to travel to Europe to recover from the pressure in 1873.  Horatio's wife and 4 daughters traveled ahead of him while he stayed behind to wrap up problems with the business as fallout from what was lost in the Chicago Fire. While crossing the Atlantic, the ship sank after a collision with another ship: the Loch Earn, and all four of Spafford's daughters died (his wife couldn't decide between them: which child should she save at the expense of the others?  She'd decided to perish all together rather than choose between them, but miraculously, she survived). She sent Horatio the telegram now read around the world: "Saved alone …". Spafford rushed to meet up with his grieving wife, and when his ship passed the spot where his daughters had drowned, he wrote the following song:
It Is Well With My Soul:

"When peace like a river, attendeth my way; when sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, "It is well, it is well, with my soul."

It is well, (it is well), with my soul, (with my soul). It is well; it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet; though trials should come, let this blest assurance control:
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, and hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin — oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! —My sin — not in part but the whole, —
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more. Praise the Lord; praise the Lord, O my soul! For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live: If Jordan above me shall roll, No pang shall be mine;  for in death as in life,Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait. The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord! Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight: The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend, A song in the night, oh my soul!"

Life is not always easy.  Life is not always fair. But God is always just, and He is always good, and His Hand holding ours, sometimes, is all we need to know.  May we lean into His strength.  May we be encouraged by His beauty.  May we drink in the joy of each day and cry our tears upon His chest, and never forget Him, but say in both, siimply because He is near, "It is well.  It is well with my soul."