"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."

Psalm 84

www.encounteringtheking.com
Psalm 84:5-7
"Blessed is the man whose strength is in You,whose heart is set on pilgrimage.
6 As they pass through the Valley of Baca, they make it a spring;
The rain also covers it with pools.
7 They go from strength to strength; Each one appears before God in Zion."
There is an old song which says, "There is a balm in Gilead that makes the wounded whole.  There is a balm in Gilead that frees the sin-sick soul.  If you can't sing like David, if you can't preach like Paul, just tell the world of Jesus and say He died for all."
As I travel, I look around and see the hurting.  It breaks my heart.  I want to weep, sometimes, like Jesus wept for Jerusalem when I see so many turning a fist towards Heaven when, all the while, God longs to gather us in His arms.  I have no explanation for suffering.  I have no explanation for painful circumstance.  I only know that I would rather go through trials with His arms around me; I would rather hear His song drown out the cry inside me than to walk each step pushing His love away.
Some brave "soldiers" are standing on the front lines taking hits for what they believe.  Some continue to praise Him knowing that their hearts are set on pilgrimage.  We stand, down here, and try to shine His light into the darkness, but this world is not our home.  We believe, and pray, and wait, and see His victory in even the smallest of things.  We lift our eyes up to the Heavens, where our help comes from when daily life knocks us off our feet.  He is faithful. He has made us more than conquerors.  He has risen, and so will we.
And in the midst of it, we pray for those who don't know Him.  We weep with them, and laugh with their joys.  We try to show by example that each one is not alone: each is important; valued; loved.  I'm beginning this blog as a means of encouraging both sinners and saints.  We have all been both, at times.  I write to say, "Let us share life.  Let us share hope.  Let us share freedom."  And when we can't sing, or preach, or stand very tall, in those moments, may every breath still say, "I'll tell the world of Jesus and say He died for all."