Category Archives: peace

a place of peace…

“LORD, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” (Psalm 16:5-6).

A good boundary line; a pleasant place. Surely, I could live there. Surely I do… at least once or twice a week when I allow my heart to wander her landscape.

To walk her breadth. To sit on her front porch and hear the creakiness of her timber beneath my frame. To open her windows at night and feel the gentle breath of the mountain air caressing my skin. To watch her foliage slip in and out of seasons. To awaken with her mornings; to rest with her as she closes each day down.

Indeed, I could live there. At least I think I could. I realize she’s no longer a working farm, but it is fun to imagine my life beyond my current borders. To “see” peacefulness and then to envision me there, living out my days and nights and nights and days with her earth beneath my feet. I don’t imagine it would take long for my illusion to find interruption. No electricity and indoor plumbing would quickly engage my resistance. Mountain winters and mountain bears would be a difficult reckoning for me. Isolation? Well, it lives pretty isolated when left alone and never engaged.

And she’s got me thinking this morning. Thinking about those things that are initially pleasing to the eye that, when contemplated further, aren’t always as delightful as they seem to be. That drawbacks sometime shadow our dreaming. That with everything we imagine that might bring us peace on earth, there comes a reality alongside that everything to remind us that an earthly utopia doesn’t exist. That there is no ideal or perfect puzzle fit with the pieces of our lives because God doesn’t intend for us to remain fixed on the conditional nature of planet earth. God intends for us to remain fixed on the unseen boundary lines of his eternal forever.

Peacefulness never walks far from its contrast—chaos. Where there is one, there has always been the other. They may live in isolation from one another—separate farms with distinctive boundary lines—but peace and chaos are neighbors. One step in an alternate direction lands you on your neighbor’s property. You may not be intentional about the steps that take you there, but once you arrive within the borders of an unfamiliar land, you cannot help but notice the contrast. Peace doesn’t live like chaos, and chaos doesn’t live like peace. They may live next door to one another, but the way in which they operate their farms shares little resemblance.

Peace lives internally. Chaos lives externally.

Peace operates from anchored understanding. Chaos operates without anchors, tossed about and driven along by the wind in search of safe harbor.

Peace says “it is well with my soul.” Chaos says “it will never be well… with my soul or otherwise.”

Peace calms the spirit. Chaos clutters it.

Peace rests with the unanswerable. Chaos keeps asking the questions.

Peace settles the soul. Chaos continually disrupts it.

Peace concedes “the way, the truth, and the life” to Jesus Christ. Chaos concedes “the way, the truth, and the life” to humanity—to manmade solutions and selfish ambition.

Peace authors with God. Chaos authors with the enemy.

Peace lives eternally. Chaos dies a painful death.

I want to live in peace, within her borders and with her Maker. Peace doesn’t live any more peacefully in the mountains just because it is the mountains. Peace lives peacefully because God is there. Wherever he superintends the soil is where peace will be found. He cares for my North Carolina backdrop even as he cares for the mountainous, Tennessee landscape. I don’t have to travel there to find peace; I simply have to travel within—to pause and ponder the inescapable truth that anchors my soul to sacred understanding.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places because the presence of the Living God lives within my borders. He dwells within me through the power of his Holy Spirit. He’s laid claim to my soul and planted peace within my soil. From time to time I venture beyond my borders—spend a night or two at a neighboring farm named “chaos”—but the seeded peace of Jesus always brings me back home. Back to the place where I have ample time to rock on peace’s front porch, time to listen to peace’s refrain, time to roam within peace’s borders, time to rest beneath peace’s sheltering watch.

Peace.

Jesus Christ.

A good boundary line; a pleasant place.

Surely, I could live there. Surely I do.

The door is always open, friends. Come and walk your Peace this weekend. As always…

peace for the journey,

post signature

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas

“Above all, you must understand that no prophecy of Scripture came about by the prophet’s own interpretation. For prophecy never had its origin in the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit. (2 Peter 1:20-21).

It’s the music that’s captured my attention this Christmas. Old songs; new songs; new renditions of old songs. Perhaps more than any other Advent season I’ve experienced, this one was meant for music. It has paused me more than once and brought about the teary reflection of my heart.

Music has caught my attention. In particular, one verse from one familiar carol.

For lo, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold;
When with the ever circling years,
Comes round the age of gold.
When peace shall over all the earth,
Its ancient splendors fling;
And the whole world give back the song…
Which now the angels sing.

The carol?

“It Came upon the Midnight Clear” written by Edmund Sears in 1858—a time in history when our country stood on the brink of civil war… civil unrest. A season when a great chasm existed between two public opinions with very little wiggle room in between. A season not unlike the one we’re living in currently.

Perhaps more than ever before, we need the witness of Mr. Sears’ “pen” as reflected in this song, especially this verse. He writes about a time fast approaching, a time spoken and written about by the prophetic poets of long ago. An up and coming age of gold when peace—an ancient peace—will unleash its fullness upon the earth so that the only response of its recipients can be…

Glory to God in the highest! Peace, now finally and forever, on earth. Very good and kindly intention toward all of God’s created—men, women, children, stranger, friend, sinner and saint alike.

Peace. Perfect peace. Found only in the Author of peace—Jesus Christ. And while we know a measure of his strength today, there is coming a day when Peace will reside over all the earth in finality. A “season” when the sky will split and Peace will descend upon his created to reign without objection. A forever filled with humbled hearts and submitted knees to the One who submitted his will to the will of his Father and entered into a fragile and needful humanity.

Without Christ’s entrance into our world, we’d have no exit into his. Read that again, and receive the depth of this truth.

The Gift and Peace of Christmas secures the future—the Golden Age where everything “ancient” births in its fullness to fling an everlasting “peace” back to its Creator in chorused thanks. How my heart and flesh long for the day when I give back to God and all of heaven the “greeting” they gave to me… to the world via a cloven sky some 2000 years ago. When I can say to him with all certainty…

Peace on earth.

Peace forever.

Peace for the journey.

The Golden Age is fast approaching, friends. Soon the wait will be over, and we’ll hold the witness of its entirety. Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe as we gather at the manger in collective remembrance come Christmas morning. Would your heart, along with mine, be willing to take a few minutes on Christmas Day to give back to God the greeting he gave us at Bethlehem’s pause?

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.

His favor rests with you.

Merry Christmas, friends. May the peace of Christ rule in your hearts this week. I’ll see you on the other side of Bethlehem.

post signature

a noble hero

I want to tell you about a real hero tonight; not the one getting all the press in the media for his efforts at the peace-making process.

My hero sits alone this evening, on the front porch of her home in a rocking chair, reeling from the extreme after-effects of having been brutally attacked by a neighboring dog on Monday morning. After returning home from taking her two young children to school, she noticed the dog on her front porch. Normally, he was chained two doors down, but today he enjoyed open range in the neighborhood.

Wanting to help out her neighbors, my friend went inside to retrieve her rain coat with the idea of walking the dog back home. When she returned to the porch, the dog was gone. She continued down the sidewalk to knock on the owners’ door in order to inform them of their dog’s “loosened” estate.

She never made it. Instead, the dog leaped out from his hiddenness and began a ten-minute assault on her fragile frame. She was no match for his 130 pounds. He tossed her like a rag doll, mutilating her flesh while she screamed out her resistance. The owners of the dog emerged to their front porch, shouting out the dog’s name but never stepping a foot in her direction to help. Another neighboring man ran to her aid with shovel in hand and began to beat back the vicious animal.

When the police arrived, the dog aimed his attack in their direction. Fortunately, they were well armed and rectified the situation in swift order. His attacking days are over, but the wounds he inflicted remain. Long after her flesh has healed, long after the process of reconstructive surgery is over, the wounding my friend has received will write as scars into her history. I imagine the pain from Monday’s attack will live in her memory for a long season.

As I sat with her on the porch this evening, I saw her strength displayed through her words, despite the flowered memorial erected to the dog just feet away from her front lawn. It sickened me to see it and reminded me of how shaded the lenses have become in our society. How we prize self-preservation over another’s pain and suffering. How callous we sometimes are in our blatant disregard for our brothers and sisters who live next door, and who, occasionally need our shovels instead of our shouts.


Where are the hands that are willing to get dirty on behalf of someone in need? Where are the hearts that are willing to bleed so that a neighbor can go free from the vicious clenches of the enemy? How far are we willing to go to save the life of a human being? Is our shouting enough? Is our wishing it wouldn’t happen enough? When evil comes knocking at a neighbor’s door, do we retreat to the shadows of our dens and our morning talk shows, or do we launch an attack of our own despite the risks involved?

I don’t have to tell you what my friend would do. Time and again, she’s proven to these neighbors and others her kindness and her desire to live in community with them. As a single mom, life has sometimes been an uphill struggle. We share some common ground, and I know how hard these years can be. How challenging life can live while going it alone and being expected to do it all … to be it all, for everyone.

It’s a confusing mess, most days. A tireless reach into the deep storehouses of emotional, physical, and spiritual reserves in order to keep the wheels turning, the bills paid, and the lunches packed. There are countless hours of fretting over children, worrying over plumbing, and hoping beyond hope that the tires will last another thousand miles before needing replacements. The days start early and end late, and the doors stay locked … carefully guarded for fear of an unseen enemy who lurks just beyond the safety of a latch.

As single moms (and speaking as one who used to be one) we rarely score brownie points with society, church included. In fact, we mostly score their pity, or worse yet, their rejection. After all, we’re half of what we used to be. We blew it. We screwed it up and didn’t stay where we were supposed to stay. Never mind the other half who did his part in breaking the commitment. No, as single moms we carry it all, and it’s not fair; most days it hurts like crazy and calls for a strength beyond our capabilities.

Some days, like today, it calls for even more. A strength beyond that strength, and I am telling you I witnessed that strength tonight in my friend; I was moved to a place of awe and worship in my own spirit for the gift of God’s abiding presence and comfort despite man’s neglect along those lines. Tonight, my friend rocked on her porch while nursing the pains of her wounds that stretched from head to toe and back again. She’s got a rough road ahead of her, but she’s got an awesome God to carry her.

I don’t think she fully knows just how strong he can be, but I do, and he is already ministering to her in ways she never expected. Her faith is growing; she can’t see it now, but she’ll see it soon. And when she does, she’ll be in awe of the way she was able to endure her suffering and to emerge on the other side of it with a measure of grace and dignity that leaves, even her calloused neighbors, stunned and shamed with regret.

No one else may be handing her a prize tonight, but I, for one, think she deserves more than she’s been given. Her story is worthy of a headline (not the one printed in the local paper this past Tuesday morning). No, her story is worthy of far greater … a living memorial written by the very hand of her loving Savior. He’s writing it now, and one day soon, she’ll be the recipient of his commendation, and all of this mess that now serves as her life will make sense and will read as a masterpiece worthy of the throne room of heaven.

I love you friend. I love you single moms. You hang in there, and most importantly, you hold tightly to our Jesus. He loves you and has an extraordinary plan for your tomorrows. And should you ever need more than a shout, I’ve got my shovel ready and sitting on go. Together, with our God, we’ll fight the enemy, and we will win. It’s his promise to us. It’s my promise to you.

You are my noble hero this night, and your strength has called my heart to worship and to praise. Sleep well, brave friend, knowing that tomorrow awaits your courage. God created the morning for warriors like you. Go forth in the power that is yours because of your rightful inheritance as a daughter of the Most High God. Stand strong; remain vigilant, and fix your eyes on the horizon up ahead. Your salvation is closer now than he has ever been. As always…

peace for the journey,

~elaine

DJ Coles and "Your Grace"

DJ Coles and "Your Grace"

Over the past couple of weeks God has been ministering to my weary soul with the music of DJ Coles. Most of you aren’t familiar with his work. I wasn’t either until early May when DJ was the guest worship leader at our church’s spring revival. DJ serves as the youth pastor and “praise and worship” leader for Sunday worship services at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base, which is located in within our community.

From the moment he took the microphone in hand, I was keenly moved by DJ’s giftedness to not only sing, but also to write some incredible music that moves a heart into an immediate posture of worship. I sat and wept through most of his selections. In particular, DJ favored us with many of the songs off of his first full-album release, Your Grace.

 


Your Grace is a collection of songs written for an audience in search of healing, inspiration, and God’s grace. The project is meant to inspire the human spirit beyond what may seem impossible or what may appear unbearable. After an agonizing year of uncertainty and loss, DJ was inspired to write songs that would help others through life’s challenges and triumphs.

From the title track, “Your Grace” to “Good Morning, Lord” to “Only a Prayer Away” and every song in between, you will sense and hear DJ’s desire to persevere and to relate with everyday people. Also peppered within the album you will find what Barry Weeks has called, “Our nation’s next anthem”—referring to DJ’s song, “A Prayer for America” (a personal favorite). You can get a brief listen of it by clicking here. Trust me when I tell you that not one song on this album is wasted. I love every track (how often can you say that?).

How thankful I am to have come across DJ’s ministry in this season of my life. God timed this “sacred intersection” with perfect precision. I couldn’t have appreciated the depth of DJ’s gifting had I not been in this posture of deep need.

Perhaps you understand. Maybe this day your heart is also in deep need of a touch from God—a touch that will penetrate through your pain and your weary in order to soothe the ache within. Your Grace offers that touch, and DJ has offered three copies for me to give away via the blog. One of the copies is reserved for Runner Mom (you all do know that she is making a road trip next week to come and visit with me…); the other two will be given away to those of you who leave a comment on this post.

In addition, if you’d like to order your own copy of Your Grace, you can do so through amazon.com (click here) or at cdbaby.com (click here). Further, if you would like to contact DJ regarding leading a time of worship at your gathering, you can email him at: [email protected] .

I am reminded again today (thanks for the call Joanne), that we all have a story to tell; some of us will write it. Some of us will sing it. Some of us will tell it, but all of us are commissioned with the task of living it! I won’t live it exactly as you do, but by God’s grace, I will walk the rest of my earthly days on purpose and with a heavenly end in mind.

Life is a precious gift. His grace … all the more. Live it like you mean it, friends. As always,

post signature

Ruby Tuesdays: A Mighty Woman (part three)

Please join us over at Refreshmoments to read more Ruby Tuesdays’ posts. To read part one and two of my series, click here.

“She senses that her gain is good; Her lamp does not go out at night.” (Proverbs 31:18, NAS).
My lamp wants to.

Go out tonight.

But my heart refuses its dimming. Not because I don’t need it to; I need some rest. But rather because I have a stirring that forces my thoughts. A penned up feeling that has surfaced today; the first of its kind, at least as it pertains to this child. My second child. A boy who’s grown up too quickly and who, in two months time, will throw his cap into the air and declare his finish to his childhood.

I’ve been waiting for this feeling to surface all year, but for whatever reason, it waited until today to erupt. I was unprepared for its arrival and yet completely willing to entreat its sway over my mind and my emotion.

Butterflies.

Flutters of worry. Flutters of anxiety. Flutters of anticipation. Flutters of exultation. Flutters of “what’s next” and flutters about “how I’m going to walk this one through.” Flutters of all manner of feelings, rolled up into a few moments of pause.

It brought me to my knees and my tears accordingly. To my prayers and my hopes for how this thing … this future that remains to be seen … is going to shift my season, yet again. Two years ago, I walked this road with my first son. It was different then. Harder in many ways. Time has developed my trust for the process, especially because that time has been seasoned with good decisions and good provision that have grown us all in very good measure.

My gain has been very good. All those years of seeding the soil of my eldest son’s maturation have blossomed into a budding harvest of manhood. I imagine the same for my second son. I hope for it; I pray for it; I long for it to walk in similar and smooth transition.

It seems that it will, at least for today. Today, despite my flutters, the future seems to be narrowing—to be falling into sharper focus as to where my son will further his growing over the next four years. Four of the five colleges to which he’s applied have laid some ample offers at his feet. Good offers. Financial packages that we couldn’t have imagined for him on the front side of this process.

On the front side, we couldn’t see a way. With an older brother already in college and with us living within the budget of our single-family income, we couldn’t imagine how we would be able to afford him the education at the school of his choice. So I didn’t.

Imagine.

On the front side.

Instead, I simply left it in God’s hands.

Good hands. Hands that are completely capable and willing to hold the trust and faith of our hearts.

And now, on the backside of a strenuous and lengthy stretch, it seems that we will be able to afford them all. And the mighty woman in me, a woman longing to be found worthy of a ruby’s bestowing, is sensing a very good gain through the hands of a very good Father who understands the needs of his children and of his provision therein.

God has moved on behalf of our household, friends. And when I discerned it today, when I began to see the prayers of my long and deliberate trust beginning to unfold in our favor, all I could do was fall prey to my fluttering. From one emotion to the next until I found my knees and my subsequent thanks.

God gave me more than an answer today. He gave me the gift of faith … of seeing how my believing Him on the “front side” of an unknown can be walked in peace and assurance until the answer arrives.

Rarely have I done that. Rarely have I fully trusted Him with my prayers. Rarely have I believed that He was truly and faithfully going to work it all out. But this time—this season of trusting God with my son’s college outcome—was my rare exception. This time, I chose expectation over doubt. Faith over fear. Peace over panic. And tonight, from the backside, it seems to me to be a very good way to walk a journey.

In full assurance of a good gain because a good God stands at the helm.

Long ago and many seasons before this one, God lit his lamp within my heart. I’ve spent the better part of forty years tending to that wick. Some years have walked brightly. Some dim. Some pure. Some tainted. But all have walked with the possibility of a brilliantly lit faith. Today, my faith burned with a radiance that surpassed them all.

Today, faith grew, and tonight, God’s wick within me is flaming with a peace that has rarely been my portion. God has stoked my heart with a night’s burning that will remain, despite this body’s need for rest.

I can take that rest because my Father is faithful to tend to my all in my stead, on the front side of tomorrow … on the backside of today. My times are in his hands. So are yours. And that, my friends, is a good gain all the way around. As always,

~elaine

error: Content is protected !!