Tag Archives: hope

More Like Jesus

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The sky is blue and clear. A few wisps of white clouds scattered here and there but nothing – and I mean nothing – like the other evening when the sky turned dark and clouds hovered low, the wind whipped through the neighborhood, blowing anything loose out of its way – including the roof to the doghouse.  The lightening was so bright it overpowered the street lights and it was as if the thunder was God Himself, reminding His children that He is the great I AM.

 

I know by now, that in every storm of life itself my faith has been deepened.  The clouds overhead threaten rain and hail, sleet and snow.  The wind whips and every loose sting of faith I may have left is blown loose, blowing every loose string of faith,  leaving me crying out for mercy. Lightening strikes and though it threatens to fry us, it never does.  Though the thunder roars, it is music in my ears.

 

I love thunder and lightening. They remind me how small I am – how big my God is.  I love the wind, the fury of its strength.

 

None are pleasant.  All are needful.

 

Winds clean and clear debris and smoke – removing it from where it may not belong.  Lightening clears, cleans – burning what it strikes, leaving a pure path of fertile ground where seeds that were hidden safely underground will break forth and create a fresh, new landscape. Thunder, with its mighty roar, reminds me that God is alive and still in control.  I can stand in the midst of the storms and know – though I am so small and nothing to speak of – the maker of the universe cares for me.

 

We will all face storms in our lives.  Some are greater than others, different degrees for different people.  We are tested for our steadfastness, our faithfulness to endure – to trust that God remains in control and is dependable.  It is through the storms we find if we’ve grown.  If we are growing.  The spring that follows will be proof of that growth.  The spring is evidence that God was there through the harshness of the winter, cleansing us, making us stronger – making us new, readying us for bigger things.

 

Storms are not pleasant, and yet – all are needful and all shall pass.  In the end, we will be more like Him and ultimately – isn’t that what it’s all about?

 

From my heart ~ Sherri

The Colors of the Old Life

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The leaves waltz to the ground, creating a song all their own as they skip along the ground to a tune accompanied by the whistling wind. It is breathtaking to me. We were made to enjoy this – to stand in awe of every hue, every detail – as the sun pierces through the yellows, the reds, the oranges, creating the illusion of gold shimmering from the limbs of the maple trees.

Fall has got to be, hands down, my favorite season. But then, I would probably say that about each one as they transition into the other. I love to listen to the sounds of fall – the wind blowing, the leaves as they dance along the ground, neighbors raking. On a quiet day, it is a beautiful sound against the quiet. The crisp air that turns your cheeks pink and makes you long for warm cups of tea or cocoa and a good book. Colorful kites that fly high against a sky that determines whether to bring days of winter or pass the storm on by for yet another day.

It is the season of preparing the ground for the cold and hardness of the coming months. It is the shutting down of growth as we have known it for the last two seasons. It is – a time of dying. I stand in my driveway and all around me there is evidence of life slipping away. Shrubs are thinning. Vegetables have quit producing. Flowers have faded and turned to seed. Trees are almost bare and the grass lies dormant against the coming frost. And yet, it is the most beautiful of all seasons to me, for it reminds me that real beauty comes when death occurs.

The Christian’s life is like that. I have met Christians who have died to self. They are like the picture of fall, having been touched by the sun of summer and watered by the rains of spring. They are absolutely beautiful. What makes them so beautiful is their lack of self. They have become less of themselves and more like Christ. A dying to self, reflecting the colors of their Lord.

I have seen Christians who sound like fall. That may sound absurd, but theirs are the sounds of worship and praise from a heart of gratitude for what God is doing in, through, and with their life. They dance the waltz of thanksgiving. Their leaves are turning from green to brilliant yellows, oranges and reds and they are breathtaking. They are learning to let God have His way and paint His picture on their lives with such radiant colors that they reflect their Maker. However, with all that we know of fall, we know all too well that winter follows right behind. It often comes sooner and more fervently than we anticipate, much less desire. Soon the hardships and the tests of a cold, dark season must be endured. Branches will be stripped of every last leaf that was clinging to its branch.

It is in the winter season where a Christian is strengthened by the weight of the struggles he must endure. In nature, the snow falls and it can either cause a limb to be strengthened, or the branch will snap under the pressure and – so it is with us. The winter months of our lives can allow us to be strengthened like those branches or we can say ‘enough’ and snap.

If we hold tight to the Lord through the dark times and make Him our refuge, we find that eventually, the storms pass through this season we call winter and spring brings new life. New hope, soft, spring rains, the air begins to warm and buds turn into blossoms. So often we forget that in those winter months, it may seem harsh, dark, and cold, but there is life inside. A life that cannot be touched by the cold and the darkness that surrounds us. A place where buds are being formed, where blooms will burst forth. A place where God is at work even though we may not be able to see evidence right away and new life will be evident once again.Fall. We need the fall and winter seasons of life in order to experience the springs. Seasons of transformation, dying to self. Seasons of dormancy where we wonder if the sun will ever shine again.

But, it will. And it does.

Spring has come and gone, the fun of summer is coming to an end, and the beauty of fall has arrived with evidence of life transitioning from one critical season of life into another. Instead of discouragement robbing our hope of the coming winter months, let’s remember that spring will come once again. The colors of fall are a beauty to behold. How I desire to be colorful just as the leaves on the maple trees that line the city streets – dying to self so that my colors shine for His glory.

What colors do you want to be?

Ten Reasons to Read ‘One Thousand Gifts’

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I have recently come across a book that I firmly should be in everyone’s hands. There aren’t many books I would recommend so highly, but this one fits my criteria for what makes a book ‘recommendable’.
- It has to be in English, and have an appealing cover (I’m a visual person)
- It deepens my walk with Christ in some way
- I want to keep reading and never put it down
- Before I am even half way through I realize this is a keeper – my name goes in – it doesn’t get loaned, sent to the thrift store or sold in a yard sale
- I go out and get a copy to give to someone(s) who will be blessed by it
- In my recommendation, there is nothing that will embarrass me in its content
- It is encouraging and inspiring
- It touches me emotionally
- I can’t wait to read it again
- I think about it all day long

‘One Thousand Gifts’ by Ann Voskamp. It’s been out about a year (perhaps a bit less) but it is absolutely refreshing. Ann takes us through some of the heartbreaking moments of her journey in life, as well as those that were filled with joy. The places where she learns anew the gift of thankfulness and how it literally transforms her life.

Written almost like poetry, it is easy to read, quick to absorb. But take your time. You won’t want to miss a bite.

A little secret…
To obtain the transformation Ann talks about, you will need these three tools: a pen, a notebook/journal, and eyes – wide open.

I’d love to hear your thoughts if you read it!

Writing for Him,
Sherri

That’s all I’m going to tell you. It is a bestseller, so it may be in Costco (or similar) at a discounted price.

Welcome Home, Neva

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Life begins. A squirming bundle of skin, filled with a will and spirit all its own. Drinking from the breast of the one who bore it, it begins to stretch and grow. It cries. It squeals. It is silent and looking. Looking here. Looking there. Everywhere it scans shadows that come into view. Everywhere light filters in gently and brings blur into focus. The squirming bundle grows more.

The squeals turn to innocent screams that stem from rubber running against pavement as she follows a ball in play. Screams of joy. Screams of a win. Screams of fun. Screams of pain as innocence hits pavement and blood gushes from a wounded knee.

A doctor’s visit. Another kiss on the knee. A bandage is applied and pulled over top of an owie and another kiss is given. Carried out in the arms of love, the once squirming bundle is almost too big to carry. Big enough to milk the cow, big enough to gather hens’ eggs, big enough to argue. Not so big to hold, not so big to kiss goodnight, not so big to set straight.

She comes home from school. Excited about her ‘A’ in chemistry, excited about her upcoming role in ‘The King and I’ and more excited that her very first crush will be playing the role of King Mongkut of Siam. Shortly after, dreamed up kings and future queens are left in the dust for college where she meets true love and shortly after receives her degree as a nurse.

It could have been like that, I suppose, if you change a few details. But the reality? She gives her love and gentleness away every day. She touches lives she will never know were healed through her hands. Lives that were lifted by her spirit. Lives that were comforted by the words carefully chosen and mouthed by her lips. Like the fragrance of the flowers in the garden she tends, her roses, dahlia and delphiniums, lilacs, lavender and more – the scent of her character is remembered in the minds of those she has touched.

With all the busyness, with all that is called life, where is this contentment that she yearns to lie down upon and call home?

She lives through the hardships of life. Death has shadowed her with grief countless times as she has walked the halls of her ward. Tears have wet her cheeks more times than she can remember. Cries of pain have echoed in her mind more than she can forget.

She lives through the joys of life. Bringing the squeal of the new, two-fold, seeing it repeated once again with the birth of her granddaughters. Beautifully they grow, at the feet of her wisdom, by the unconditional love of her heart.

She buries her husband and with another fistful of dust to dust, a few years later – she buries her son.

She smiles as a great grandson emerges from the womb and screams life anew. Digging dirt holes and driving metal trucks, he is the music in her spirit. He is the joy of her heart. He is the savior of the moment. Dawdling in the garden, he snips with her the old life to make way for the new.

Home – is it here amidst the buds and the blooms? Is it in the sweat that drops upon the earth as she tills the ground? Is it inside the multitude of boards that stand erected in the distance, holding treasures of the past?

She knows when to be quiet, she knows when to speak. She discerns the ways about her and stays sheltered in the wisdom of her God. She lives His words and gives what she learns. Those that know her are blessed.

Her body, now aged, summons life to stop its circle and as the ends of the sphere near completion, she lays quiet upon her bed, silently bidding farewell to the shadows of the past is ushered into the holy presence of her Prince.

This moment. This joy. This feeling of rebirth – this is what she has lived for. This is the contentment that can’t be found in earthly dwellings or savored relationships.

This is the moment. This is the joy. The end of the race. This is what pain and sorrow fight for.

He reaches to take her hand. She steps from the old and into the new. With His arms she is welcomed. Through His lips he whispers, “Well done.” With His hands He places a crown upon her head.

She is home. She is finally home.

How Do You Say Goodbye?

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A dear friend of mine went to the hospital. My dear, dear friend had routine surgery. My dear, dear, dear friend was on the operating table when they discovered her body was full of cancer. That was last Friday. Today is Monday. She is not expected to live past this evening.

And still, she smiles. She jokes. With a little less life, a little less breath, she smiles and she jokes and she tells the doctor to get back to work because she has nothing to do but wait for her eyes to close. She smiles because she knows when her eyes close, they will reopen to the face of her long-awaited Prince.

I told her to tell Jesus that I want a yellow house, just like the one her and I and another friend use to go to for lunch and pie. Always pie. Always a la mode. Always. Sometimes we may not have wanted the soup or the sandwich (rarely), but always the pie. As you can sense, it was good pie. Two slices of pecan a la mode and one slice of sour cream and raisin a la mode. Warmed just a tad bit.

One day we went flower picking. Bright pinks, yellows, reds, purples. Petals of practically every color of the rainbow greeted us as we pushed open the wooden gate to her friend’s backyard. A backyard of dahlias covered the bare dirt and stood up to six feet tall. She snipped and clipped blooms while I snapped pictures of every one I could. We laughed. We talked. It was one of the highlights of my life. A bright summer day.

I used to work in a church office. Someone received a bouquet of beautiful red roses and I had to deliver them to the recipient. How I wished they had been for me. As I rounded the corner going back to my office, my dear, dear, dear, dear friend was there. She was holding a green glass vase full of deep and light purple lilacs that she had clipped in her yard and brought to me. The fragrance seeped into my soul and refreshed my spirit. She was my angel that day. She loved flowers as much as I did.

She will be Home in a few hours. The angels must be setting the table as I write. They are probably humming as they go – excited by the near arrival of my dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear friend. We who are left behind however, weep the loss of this saint. This one who frowned upon gossip and never said an unkind word about anyone. This one near 80 years old, who giggled like a little girl. This one who had the gift of encouragement and sent handmade cards regularly and often to cheer others up. This friend who, when there was a need, did what she could. This one I call Neva. This one the Father calls Beloved.

I shiver when I look up into the sky and think this could be the moment when Christ is standing at the gate, welcoming her home in His arms. I thank my God that two weeks ago I made the time to sit with her while I was in Idaho and share lunch. Her and Vivian. Just like old times. Two of my very favorite people.

There was no pie that day and the Yellow House has closed. We found another place to dine and the fellowship was just as sweet.

My dahlias are blooming. When I look at them I think of Neva. When I look at them from now on, I will remember Neva. Her smile, her spirit, her giggle, her generosity, and her ability to bring sunshine into the lives of so many others.

I will miss you so much, Neva. But I know that someday I will see you again. And when I do, while Vivian enjoys her sour cream and raisin pie, we’ll enjoy some ‘heavenly’ pecan pie – a la mode, of course. And the fellowship will be so sweet.

And the Light Shines In the Darkness

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In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being by Him and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. In Him was life and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. John 1:1-5

One of my favorite songs includes a line about God that says, “There is no shadow in Your presence.”

Have you ever stopped to really think about God’s glory in such a way that – literally, because of His glory, there is no shadow in His presence?

I have never really been anywhere (that I can recall), where there was not some sort of shadow seen somewhere near me, of some certain thing. All light that I know of is transfixed. It is in permanent, limited position. God’s glory is so powerful, so full of splendor, so incomprehensible, so full of light that there is no darkness – not even a hint of a shadow.

The sun is always shining above the clouds, but since you can’t see that fact, you forget that fact.

Clouds are often representative of dark days in our spiritual lives. If you look in God’s word, God is often found in the clouds.

In Exodus 6:21 it says, “And the Lord was going before them in a pillar of cloud by day to lead them on the way.”

In chapter 20 of Exodus it states that “…Moses approached the thick cloud where God was” and in chapter 24, “Moses went up to the mountain and the cloud covered the mountain.”

In the ninth chapter in the book of Mark it says in verse 7, “Then a cloud formed overshadowing them, and a voice came out of the cloud, “This is my beloved Son – listen to Him.”

There is a song that talks about God coming in the clouds. It talks about how we can feel so confident on the sunny days but when the storms begin to rise, we find our faith turning to fear. It is at those times that we need to remember, “Sometimes He comes in the clouds… sometimes the skies are dark and gray… sometimes His face cannot be found… sometimes He comes in the clouds.” (Steven Curtis Chapman)

The point is this: The light shines in the darkness, simply because, if He is omniscient, everywhere at once, then He is in the darkness. Sometimes we find that our faith turns to fear, but He is faithful and He goes before us in those clouds to lead us, no matter how dark and gloomy it may seem around us.

Remember in Exodus 20 that God was in the thick cloud? According to 2 Chronicles 6:1, that is exactly where the Israelites also found Him. He was there with them, constantly, faithfully. But, what they could not see, what they refused to believe, was that God was in the darkness – He was in the cloud. And what they did not know was that above that cloud, the sun was shining. God’s glory could have pierced through at any second but they would not have been ready for it. For, they could only see and feel the darkness and could not see His glory where not even a shadow exists.

“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.”

What hope the God of all creation has given to us. Light in the darkness. A light so powerful that darkness did not, cannot, and will not overcome it. In Him was life and the life was the light of men. Jesus is the life and He is the light. The glory. The splendor. The light in our darkness.

To those who are consumed by the darkness in their life – whatever it may be –may you find hope in the clouds above.

Blessed Be His Name

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Claire and her mom

Claire and her mom

I have been following a blog, http://ourclaire.wordpress.com/, since its inception this past June.  I am not sure how I stumbled upon it, but it has become very personal to me.  It is about the life of an ordinary family set afloat the path of excruciating circumstances—the near drowning of their three-year-old daughter. Each day I receive an update on Claire’s progress toward a new ‘normal’, one of which no one but God himself knows the definition.  Each day I am driven to my knees and not only pray for this family but express my gratitude and thankfulness that I have not experienced such pain as a mother.

 

I don’t share this to bring sadness to you, my reader, but to cause you to stop and appreciate just how precious is life itself at this very moment. In the next moment your phone may ring, bringing news that will change your life as you now know it. Tomorrow could bring sorrow. In it all and through it all, God is and will always be sovereign, faithful, and just. We may cry out why, but his peace can and will calm the shaken, the fallen, and the hurting.  

 

I wanted to share a tidbit from today’s post about Claire, written by her daddy, with an excerpt from the beginning post to give you insight what they were facing from the start:

June 2nd entry-

…after a near drowning event on Sunday, May 30th…here’s what we do know about that first hour:

  • Claire didn’t have a pulse for 30 minutes;
  • When the practitioners did get her heart going again, she could not breathe on her own; and
  • Claire’s little body was fighting to stay alive.

 

August 30th entry-

 

…as I write this, the clock stares at me, shocking me with its pronouncement of another day gone by. On the one hand, I want time to slow down so I can catch my breath, and on the other I want it to speed up, hastening Claire’s recovery.

 

I reflect on the first few days when it happened, hoping that as we brought Claire out of hypothermia, we’d take great strides to recovery. We were cautioned that the recovery would take a long time, but we still didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation: little did we know that weeks, months and years of shuffling forward were ahead of us. The slow pace is what is difficult, each day another day without seeing Claire smile, hearing her voice or watching her play. We’ve survived for three months without those things, but we can’t imagine living without them for another day. But we do it anyway, because we hold on to the hope that day will come soon.

 

On some days we see something new. Tiffany had the idea of buying some Baby Orajel as part of oral therapy. Her idea was that when you feel numbness in your mouth, your tongue tends to explore that side of your mouth. Claire’s tongue exercises have been limited. So we tried the Orajel. It worked right away. We watched Claire move her tongue to the right side of her mouth, feeling where we had placed the drop. We all cheered watching her little tongue move. Her curiosity turned to annoyance when the feeling didn’t go away. She didn’t like it. It was a victory nonetheless.

 

 

What spoke to me today was Claire’s ‘therapy’ with the Orajel. While the family watched and waited, eventually they saw Claire move her tongue to one side her mouth and was victory!  How often do we move our tongues around inside our mouth throughout our days only to take it for granted? Brush our teeth, comb our hair, walk to the kitchen, stand up from sitting in a chair? All movements we do each day and never even consider the fact that tomorrow those gifts and evidences of life could be taken away.

 

Could we, like others we may know, stand and sing, “Blessed be the name of the Lord – He gives and takes away, but my heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed by your name?

 

I remember going to a Steven Curtis Chapman concert after his little girl Maria had been tragically killed and through tears, he sang that very song, with new insight.

 

God gives and He takes away. Sometimes He takes away completely and sometimes only partially—like Claire, like a disease or illness, or a child who has turned his/her back on the Lord, or unemployment. The list is endless, but God’s comfort and strength never fails and victory is coming. It may not feel like it today, it may not feel like it tomorrow, but it is coming.  Until that day, I want to be thankful for what this moment brings and if the next, should God choose to take something away, it is because of His mercy and grace, faithfulness and sovereignty that I can choose to say, blessed be His name.

Strength Is Made In The Waiting

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basket-roses-straight-sharp

He reigns forever

He is our hope, our strong deliverer

He is the everlasting God

He does not faint, nor grow weary

Strength will rise when we wait upon the Lord…

He is the defender of the weak

He comforts those in need

He lifts us up on wings like eagles

He is our hope, our strong deliverer

Strength will rise when we wait upon the Lord…[1]

I am sitting here listening to Chris Tomlin. What a great worship leader. How God is using this man to write some of today’s greatest worship songs.

I think the things I love most about his songs are they are so God-focused. Often we sing ‘worship’ songs filled with too many ‘I’s. They are more about what we feel like rather than who God is. They tend to cause us to look inward instead of upward. Personally, I prefer to look upward. The view is better.

I was listening to ‘Everlasting God’. What a song of hope. So often, we feel so weak, so discouraged. At least I can feel that way at times. Situations that you can’t do anything about. Circumstances you can’t alter. People you can’t change. Yet, in our weakness, He remains the God of forever – who was, who still is, and who is yet to come.

The God that stood with David before Goliath. The God that stood with Noah before a mocking world. The God that stood with Stephen as he was stoned. The God that stood with Joshua as he walked the walls of Jericho. The God of forevers and the everlasting.

Strength will rise when we wait upon the Lord.

David’s strength came when He waited… and sought five stones. Noah’s strength came while waiting… and working. Stephen’s strength came while waiting… and remaining faithful. Joshua’s strength came as he waited… and walked. They all became strong in the waiting… and waiting requires trust.

It is in trusting that we rest. Trusting means letting go and letting God. Holding on means refusing to take our hands off whatever it is we refuse to cease control of and let God work through. As long as we hold on, God holds back.

His answer. His solution. His healing. His blessing.

Can we even begin to comprehend the mercies, the blessings, the unfailing love He desires to give – if we will just let go? Holding on says that we are strong enough to work through the situation at hand. It says we don’t need God. Ouch.

Letting go says… I am weak. And yet, it is in that place that God chooses to work – not in our self-proclaimed strength.

Have you ever worked alongside of someone who thought they had it all under control – didn’t need your help? Sometimes we’ve said to ourselves, “Fine then…,” stood back, and watched them fall. We can get to be cocky when we think we are strong.

It says:

He is the defender of the weak

He comforts those in need

He lifts us up on wings like eagles

He is our hope, our strong deliverer

Strength will rise when we wait upon the Lord…

God cannot defend someone who thinks they are strong. Why? They think they don’t need Him.

God cannot comfort someone who thinks they are not needy. Why? They think they’ve got it all together all on their own.

God cannot lift up someone on wings like eagles who is already flying high in their own pride.

Oh how I want Him to be my only hope, my only strong deliverer. Just Him. Even if it means waiting. After all, it is in the waiting I am made strong in Him.

You can listen to ‘Everlasting God’ here (and be blessed!):

Everlasting God

[1] Adapted from the song, “Everlasting God” by Chris Tomlin.

Five Fabulous Facts for January 22, 2010

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Rose close up 2Physically, we are all getting a day closer to our end.

Emotionally, we cower at the thought.

Mentally there are days we cannot deal with it.

Often frantically, we strive to find a way to overcome.

Spiritually, if we hope and have trusted in a God who loves us and saved us, the above can cease to be important yet remain real.

Thank you Jesus, for your saving grace which has overcome our deepest fears, our greatest needs, and our longing for more, for in You and You alone, we have everything we’ll ever need. Teach us to trust You in and for all things.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am…”  – - John 14:1-3

Moments Made for Worshipping

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my-favorite

This is a moment made for worshipping.

What if the moment is filled with heartache? What if we’ve forgotten how?

This is still a moment made for worshipping.

We can easily forget how to look up – up toward God Almighty. And if we’ve forgotten how, then we need a refresher course on who God is. He is the God of swaddling clothes. He knows how to wrap us up – His children – in such a way that we are comforted and cared for. And, when we are wrapped, we know what protection and love and grace is all about.

Oh, to become like little children who allow themselves to be comforted in the arms of God!

In the moments when I tell myself — and honestly believe that I can’t do this thing called life much longer – I listen to this song (words have been slightly altered) –

Monday morning – hiding again.

Somewhere in the distance I remember yesterday

Singing hallelujah, full of wonder.

But right now I’m just wondering –

Why don’t I feel anything at all?

It’s not about feelings, is it? Where did we ever get the idea, after all, that life was a bucket filled with everything we could ever dream of? Where was the birth certificate that says, “Endless bliss and contentment, from here on out kid.” Yet, we feel it should be. Somewhere amongst the bliss and contentment that others are enjoying, our bucket appears empty and we feel cheated. No one feels like worshipping when they feel jipped.

Every little girl has heard of Cinderella in some shape or form and dreamt the dream of being a princess. Entertained the crown, the carefree lifestyle – the lie. Little girls that I’ve known, don’t grow up and ride off into the sunset. Little girls grow up to be single moms and working wives, battered and bruised, unappreciated and unloved. They come from broken homes without examples of unconditional love and scattered instead with love that has boundaries, intruders that steal their innocence and surrounded by walls made of steel. They come from homes that don’t believe in happily ever afters but hang on to Santa and the Easter bunny instead, where happiness is seen twice a year. They come from homes that have replaced hope for hangovers and morals for immorality. And all the while, in the midst of these moments that can bring us to despair, they are the moments made for worshipping.

Why a moment made for worshipping if all we seem to feel is pain and all we seem to look upon is heartache? Because – God hasn’t changed and He never will. He was there for Moses and parted the waters, leaving an almighty and angry God to deal with the bad boys on God’s terms. He was there for David to take Goliath down with one of five stones, strategically placed in his noggin. He was there for Peter when he walked on the water. But like Peter, we forget He’s there and look down and begin to understand what if feels like to be drowning. We forget who God is and that He longs to save us – as many times as it takes.

We desperately need saving so often – don’t we?

How do we worship in those times? In the times when the tears won’t turn off? In the times when we are overwhelmed with life’s burdens? We worship with those steady tears and by bringing our bags full of burdens to the throne of God. We remember that our tears are precious to the Lord, who told us He stores them in a bottle. He knows every moment that we have been hurt. We worship because He loves us – in tears of pain or in tears of joy. We worship by laying our burdens at his feet – saying without speaking that we trust Him to take it. We believe that He will do what He says. In that – He is glorified.

A moment made for worshipping. It’s easy on Sundays. It’s the Mondays we need to put on the hard hats and remind ourselves to stay focused – to keep our eyes on Him in order to keep us from sinking. When Peter tried to go solo, he started going under.

We can’t go it alone. We need His strength, His power, His grace and His mercy to sustain us. We especially know that, when life is painful. That makes those moments in life, moments made for worshipping. Moments when we realize we can’t, and that He is, He does, and He will.

-Sherri

[1] Steven Curtis Chapman, A Moment Made for Worshipping, from the album ‘All About Love’