Category Archives: pilgrimage

a worthy entrance

“Go to the village ahead of you, and just as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ tell him, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here shortly.’” (Mark 11:2-3).

It occurs to me this night that as we stand on the edge of a new week with Jesus, we do so with the same words of instruction spoken over us that were spoken over the disciples nearly 2000 years ago.

To go ahead into the village and to find a colt for Jesus. Not for his possession, but rather for his procession. For his entrance into a world that needs to know its Savior cometh. That the long ago and faraway mention of a Palm Sunday parade is just as real and vital today as it was back then. Jesus is still in the habit of mingling with his children. The stage may have changed, but the stakes haven’t.

Eternity still hangs in the balance. There is yet a need for his exposure, for his truth to make entrance in the hearts of a generation whose hearts are hungering for the redemption of a cross and the resurrection from a tomb. Palms and waving branches are not meant for the isolation of a calendared Easter. They are the worthy proclamation of our faith. We may not carry them in the streets of Jerusalem, but we are called to carry them into the streets of our tomorrows.

Our workplaces;
Our homes;
Our schools;
Our hospitals;
Our meals;
Our phone calls;
Our e-mails;
Our churches;
Our meetings;
Our interactions;
Our interruptions.

Wherever our feet land becomes the worthy soil of our long-standing tradition. An ancient understanding that supersedes pageantry to become the stage where the King makes his entrance and where his disciples stand aside to allow him his moment in the light.

Go, my friends, make the necessary preparations in your heart to present our Lord and Savior to the world this day. We are the living conduits of his grace and mercy—the vessels he uses to make his entrance into the hearts and lives of those who fill our daily routine. It doesn’t make good sense to choose us, for I imagine that most of us have failed along these lines throughout our journey with Jesus.

But the gift of a new day is knowing that we’ve been given a few more moments to live our faith better, to wave our palms higher, and to present Christ bigger. When the world asks us (for there are almost always a few questions surrounding an unexpected parade) why we are doing this, may the answer of our hearts, speak the courage of our belief…

The Lord needs it, and we need to do it for him.

For him.

Let the branches of our celebration wave in honor of our King. Carry him well, share him liberally, and celebrate the entrance of his love into your life with all the fullness your heart can hold. May the hosanna of your witness and the hosanna of mine blend in chorus to be the sweet music of heaven announcing Christ’s arrival to his created people. I’ll meet you on the streets of Jerusalem this week. As always…

peace for the journey,

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Home

Home

“By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” (Hebrews 11:9-10).

I’ve been thinking about home this morning; not this one, the one where I currently lay my head at night, but that one … the one I’m headed toward.

In many ways, I’m already there. My heart resides with God. The older I get, the stronger my clarification in the matter that this life is but a walk-thru and, accordingly, about my need to keep the tent pegs pliable—moveable and sitting on “go” for the road up ahead.

I cannot see far down the path, but I can see enough to know that there is coming a day when I will sit with Father God, look back over all of this mess I’ve called my life, and label it done. Completed. Perfected and well-lived. In this immediate season of my crazy mixed-up life, I can’t imagine that moment of final clarity, but I can trust God to make all of my “current” count toward a better good, a greater plan, his kingdom gain.

I want to be on the move with God; not mired down in the frailty of my flesh which is content on keeping me comfortable. I want a heart and life that boasts the faith of a pilgrim journey—a stepping forth and stepping on so as to keep in step with a forward God. Sure, I’ve got a past that follows me and therefore invites me to an occasional backward glance, but the closer I get to home, the lesser my desire for an over-the-shoulder, looking-behind lingering.

I’m not into “stalled” living, friends. There was a time when I found some immediate gratification in my compliance to stay stuck, but not anymore. Perhaps age has something to do with it; statistics say I’m at the half-way point of my pilgrimage—my journey home that began 43 years ago. I’m not one to put a lot of weight into statistics; I’ve witnessed the fragility of life first-hand, and I no longer hold any assumptions in the matter.

The measure of time I’ve been granted on this earth matters little to me. What matters the most is that I walk my time forward, with God and with few possessions to weigh me down. Like the ancients of old, I want to live with the perspective that no matter how good things look here … feel here … seem here, things are going to be better there. Thus, I keep my bags packed, my boots on, and the tent pegs of my heart loosened for the next time when God says “move”.

In many ways, I’m hearing his summons along these lines. One or two big “moves”; a multitude of smaller “moves”, but all “moves” intended to keep me on the move with God’s plans for my life. One of the minor forward “moves” was making some changes to my blog. I resisted the “move”; I’m not one for change along these lines.

When I began blogging eighteen months ago, I had no inclination of moving past a few posts to whet my appetite. I quickly came to the realization that blogging (at least for me) was more than a casual journey into cyberland. Blogging has become the venue for me to creatively express the thoughts of my heart. Accordingly, I don’t take my “canvas” lightly. If I’m going to “paint” my heart, I want the brushstrokes to land in a beautiful place—a home that reflects the penchant of my longing.

For a while now, I’ve quietly sat on the sidelines, admiring George & Ashley’s work at tekeme.com. Believe me when I tell you that I’ve “searched” long and wide for just the right designers. Many of them weren’t a good “fit” for me because I’m a bit of a “designer” myself, therefore not easily pleased. But there was something unique about the Weis’ work. Something that clicked with me and allowed me the freedom to trust them with my canvas. Together, we talked and worked and shuffled around some ideas until we came up with this… a new look for peace for the journey.

The message will remain the same. Peace never loses its cutting edge. The author? Well, I’d love a make-over of my own, but alas it’s still the same elaine you’ve come to know. The canvas, however, is fresh and marks the beginning of a new chapter in my journey of faith. A faith that is pushing me forward and pulling me ever closer to the place of God’s intention.

Home.

My suitcase is well tagged, don’t you think? (Thanks, George, for thinking of it; I didn’t really catch the magnitude/analogy of it all until I saw the final product.)

The prayer of my heart for the future worth of this canvas exceeds the money spent on a new design. God will determine the worth in the end, both of my words and my heart. How I pray to always be found on the road with him, moving forward and with the Great Commission as my guiding strength.

Thank you for indulging my thoughts this day. If it wasn’t for you, my faithful readers, my words read in isolation. C.S. Lewis once said, “We read to know we’re not alone.” By you being here, and by my being there … with you at your cyber address … we share in the great fellowship of believers realizing that, in fact, the road home is crowded with kindred pilgrims. Let’s continue the walk with our Lord and with one another. What a privilege to carry my suitcase alongside all of you! As always…

peace for the journey,

PS: Please take the time to visit George & Ashley over at their website, tekeme.com. They do beautiful work and have the servants’ hearts to go with! They are “come alongside you” kind of folk–two people who are content to work behind to scenes to bring about positive changes and progress for God’s kingdom gain. I am the better person for having had our paths cross at this season in my journey. Thanks, again, Weis family, for your integrity in the process and for allowing God to hold the pen of your creativity. Blessings and then some…

PSS: Some of you have let me know that you aren’t able to clearly “see” all the elements in your web browser. Ashley has sent me this link for you to update your Internet Explorer. She thinks this is where the problem lies: click here. Hope this helps.

a night Visitor…

“One night Eli, whose eyes were becoming so weak that he could barely see, was lying down in his usual place. The lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was. Then the LORD called Samuel.” (1 Samuel 3:2-4).

I’m not a good sleeper, but last night I slept … good. The night colored darker than usual, the sound machine gently lulled my slumber, the overhead ceiling fan operated at full throttle, and there were no boys above me to creak the witness of their presence. I went to bed earlier than usual, tucking myself in with some truth from God’s Word and some audible prayers for the saints.

Sleep was sweet, and then sleep was interrupted. Not by a loud noise or a neighboring dog or even the sound of my husband snoring. No, the culprit behind my “bolt-upright in bed” response was nothing more than the sound of a page turning in my Bible. It lay open by my bed; apparently the breeze created by the ceiling fan forced its movement. In doing so, it forced my notice.

For a few minutes, I became cognizant to the spiritual domain hovering close by. I’m not a mystic, nor do I major on the physical manifestations of the “unseen” dimension that I heartily believe to be at work around us 24/7. But I’ve lived with God long enough and deep enough to realize when he is making a point.

He made one last evening, and before I could forget it, I grabbed the pad of paper and pen that lay bedside and wrote down these words in the dark…

That’s the way our faith is with God. He shows up, pages turn, and the whispers of his grace wake us from our dismal slumber.

As quickly as I was awakened from my slumber, I returned to its embrace. When I awoke this morning, I wondered if my imagination was to blame for my earlier alertness. One quick glance at my notebook told me otherwise. The handwriting was a bit skewed, but the words verified the moment. And this morning, I’m thinking that maybe someone today needs to hear the truth about a “showing up, page turning, whispering grace” kind of God.

Our faith activates his presence. Every time. There is no “maybe” on his part; no “if I feel like it” or “if I’m not busy”. Our God is faithful to arrive upon the scenes of our lives as we are faithful to seek him out. Not just at night (although I think the quiet of evening and the cover of darkness is tailor made for his arrival), but also during the daytime when light is obvious and our senses are most alert to the movement around us.

If God is about anything, he’s about turning the pages of our stories with the idea that a conclusion is fast approaching. We cannot stop his inevitable end to our stories; we can stall the progress toward that end … put up roadblocks and force some heavy editing in the process, but make no mistake. Our books are being written by the very hand of God, and one day soon, ours will shelve alongside the ancients of old where we will spend an eternity, together with them, enraptured by the “read”.

Some of you, today, need for a page to turn in your life. Need the hand of God to reach down from heaven and end the suspense of the preceding paragraphs that have captured your attention for a long season. You desire to move on, to get on with the rest of your story, but you are stuck … mired down in the confusion of some words and with an understanding that refuses to move you on to the next page. Perhaps your strength has waned with the reading, forcing your slumber and your inattentiveness. Perhaps, even your faith has taken a hit.

I understand. I, too, have hosted some seasons of being stuck. I’m afraid I don’t have a ten-step plan or a fifteen-chapter book that will guarantee your success at breaking free from its grip. No, when I walk through times of slumber, times of wishing for the “page to turn” but unable to do so through my own strength, the only thing I know to do is to keep walking … keep refusing the pre-mature end to my story that, apparently, has a chapter or two more to be written.

In those seasons, I simply bring the unfinished product to Jesus, lay it before him, and ask him to move it forward … to move me forward. To reach down from heaven with the whispers of his grace and to blow the pages of my life and the faith of my heart onward.

He’s never disappointed me; he’s always been faithful and deliberate with his showing up. Granted, the progress is sometimes a bit slow for my taste, but even then, I’m willing to concede that my taste and my Father’s are not always equal in their merit. I cannot see the finished product; he can, and so I make a decision to trust him with the pace believing that the end will arrive on time and with the sacred conclusion of my final perfection.

I don’t how this strikes you today; maybe it’s not for you. But for a few of you, those of you whose eyes have grown “weak” and whose perception has grown dim, I want you to know the truth of my late-night encounter with the presence of the living God. When you activate your faith and incline your heart in his direction, he is faithful to reach down from the heavenlies and to turn the pages of your story in perfect keeping with his will.

If you are stuck today, I pray the whispers of God’s grace to be your portion and the witness of his presence to be your comfort. Your story is but one divine breath away from turning its page and moving its words forward into the annals of an everlasting faith. May God grant you the courage and the wisdom to relinquish the pen into his capable hands. As always…

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PS: I didn’t plan on being here today, but then again, I didn’t plan on a night visitor. I don’t know when I’ll be here again; I’m sensing the need to pull away for a few days. Please know that I keep you in my heart throughout the day. You’ve all become a vital and integral part in my faith journey, and I count it a privilege to live in fellowship with you. Enjoy this beautiful day we’ve been given; may the sure and certain presence of our Father find you on the pages of your story this week. Shalom.

an invitation to more…

“‘See the former things have taken place and new things I declare; before they spring into being I announce them to you.’” (Isaiah 42:9).

I want to be here today.

A blank computer screen and “yet to be realized” words cannot keep me from this discipline … this penciling of ideas until they fill and gather to become a completed work. It would be easy to skip the moment; to walk away from the “emptiness” and fill my time with another activity. But even then, I’m not sure what that “filler” would be; how it would go; if it would matter. There’s nothing pressing on my agenda this evening.

Just moments—time given to me from God as an investment toward something.

How and where I choose to invest them is a decision worth contemplating, but even then, too much contemplation results in very little being accomplished. I’ve logged a lot of hours into my contemplations only to arrive at the end of some of them with little to show for my measured moments of deliberation. I don’t want this to be one of those times. Instead, I want to ponder alongside of you; think and consider some of God’s words with some of God’s people who best understand this God who measures all of our moments and considers each one of them as worthy and precious in his sight.

And in this current moment that belongs to me (and to you if you’re reading this), my thoughts are drawn back to an important biblical truth spoken through the prophet Isaiah to an obstinate people. A chosen people who had yet to realize the depth and meaning behind his words as they were spoken in real time. Approximately one hundred and twenty years would pass before this obstinate people would recall the divine wisdom and strength behind Isaiah’s prophetic voice.

At that time, they would need his words as they languished in exile in a foreign land. Words that reminded them about the “new things” God had promised back then in a season when their sin wasn’t looking for anything “new” but only for more room to grow and flourish.

When life walks without the immediate and visible consequences of sin, sin can sometimes seem reasonable. It did for God’s children, and after ample warning regarding their blatant disregard for God and his ways, their sin landed them in an unknown country with some unfamiliar gods and an understanding that forced them to grapple with their “what’s next?” and “how did we get ourselves into this mess?”.

God graciously unwrapped their confusion with the truth of his Word … his many words as spoken over a century earlier through his prophet Isaiah; the Israelites didn’t pay much attention to his words then, but I imagine that they clung to them in their current state of desperation:

“‘See the former things have taken place and new things I declare; before they spring into being I announce them to you.’”

Who couldn’t use a little bit of God’s “new” in the midst of a formidable exile? A promise laced with a divine truth that declares a future before the future arrives? That there is coming a return from exile and a replanting in the land of Promise that has been designed and orchestrated by God and spoken by him in the annals of time long before their appearance on the road ahead?

What encouragement could we glean from knowing that no matter how our lives breathe in this current moment, there is a good word from a good God spoken on behalf of a good future we’ve yet to realize? That for all of the former things that have taken place in our history, God has written his “new” into our tomorrows—into the “next” moments that happen beyond this one. That there is something he has declared beyond the visioning of our eyes and the hearing of his voice that, once unfolded, will speak the witness of his majesty and his incomparable love for a people who deserve far less.

God’s Word is full of such announcements to his people:

Blessings;
Promises;
Gifts;
Joys;
Rescues;
Beholdings;
Comforts;
Companionships;
Understandings;
Everlastings;
Incomprehensibilities;
Graces;
Restorations;
Returns;
_______________________.

Beautiful proclamations contained and spilled forth within the pages of holy writ. Declarations made public by the heart of God via the pen of a few obedient saints who believed beyond the “reasonable and the seen” in order to scribe the voice of the unseen One whose reason extends beyond the logical to include the likes of you and me.

God prescribes his “new” for us—the usual suspects who’ve grown quite accustomed to the cloaking of an “old” way of doing life with him. Could it be that we’ve become a bit “crusty” in our approach to living out this “thing” we call our lives? Are you already imagining that tomorrow will unfold in similar stride to your today … your yesterday? Is there any measure of faith within your heart to believe God for more? To take him at his Word and to trust him regarding the declarations he has already made on your behalf and for his glory?

Is your belief in God couched in the reasonable, or is there a flicker of something more … a stronger inclination in your heart that leads you to believe in the unreasonable, unexplainable yet fully attainable mandates laid out for you in Scripture?

Our God can be trusted with our contemplations along these lines. For everything we believe to be true about our lives and their unfolding, there is more to the story. With God, there is always more to the story. There are things and moments he has imagined on our behalf that exceed understanding. To live with less, to settle for a life that simply “walks it out” in isolation rather than walking it out with God, is to forsake the inheritance that comes to us as children of the King.

I want to live better this week; to give God my moments and to allow him to write them with the truth of my sacred birthright. I don’t want to live as a pauper begging for scraps. I want to dine at the table of rich meats and finest linen and look into my Father’s eyes knowing that this banquet was prepared as a declaration from his heart, long before it ever came into being.

Two thousand years ago on an Easter morning in Jerusalem, Christ’s invitation for “more” sprang into being. It began with a cross; it ended with a resurrection. And it continues this day as a living witness to God’s very good and glorious declaration that we were meant for more than our current understanding of less. God’s story was written with us in mind.

Even now it springs into being. Perceive it; believe it, and then receive it as you sit with your Father this week in holy contemplation. There are some “blank screens” and some moments waiting to be written by his hand and with his truth. As always…

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PS: I’d like to hear from you … what “new” and “more” do you need to believe God for this week? God has already “announced” some good things in advance on your behalf. Spend time in his Word researching those things, writing them down, and carrying them close to your heart as you walk your inheritance in faith. We journey together, friends, and these few moments before the screen tonight are my way of investing in your lives for God’s kingdom good. I love you each one. Shalom.

a wave of empty

“So keep up your courage, men, for I have faith in God that it will happen just as he told me. Nevertheless, we must run aground on some island.” (Acts 27:25-26).

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever received came from a counselor during a time of great personal crisis nearly fourteen years ago. It went something like this…

Elaine, you spend a great deal of your time trying to “out swim” the waves that are chasing you. You expend your valuable energy in trying to reach the shore before they have the opportunity to consume you. Sometimes you make it; sometimes you don’t. How much better would it be if you stopped swimming, anchored your feet into the sand, and turned to face the wave … head on and with the full confidence that your survival has already been written in the history books?

Facing the wave. That’s where I am today. Actually, where I am is in an upstairs bedroom where two beds are stripped of their linens and where closets are mostly bare. The trophies remain … the bookshelf filled with yesteryear’s reads, and the dust all the more; but what I notice most about this room this morning is not the remnants left behind. What I’m most keenly aware of is its emptiness. The silence. The incredible void that fills this place because two young men are no longer making this room the place where they lay their heads at night.

My tears have mostly dried, and the exhaustion has nearly subsided; for the most part, I’m ready to “get on with the gettin’ on.” But before I do, before I have clarity about “what’s next” for me and for those of us left behind, I want to spend some time this week “facing the wave” and allowing the full force of change to hit me squarely in the heart, therefore requiring me to grapple with some questions that are worthy of more than my casual acknowledgment.

Questions that arrive because routine has been stripped away and because there is now ample time and space to formulate some answers, out loud and before God in a way that wouldn’t have been possible a week ago. A week ago, I was still walking through this parental obedience of “letting go” with the objects of that “letting go” still shadowing my every move. Today, the shadows are removed. They are gone, casting their depth on the campuses of two universities that are just out of my reach.

Truly, I’m fine with the distance between us. It is part of their “becoming”; it’s part of mine. All of us are searching for the “next thing”—the next step in this journey called faith. And while their search leads them along different paths than mine, one thread remains constant for us all. Change has arrived, and when change comes, we can do one of two things with it. We can fight it, or we can bend to it … bow to it, turn to it and allow the full force behind its pulse to hit us where we stand and to shape us accordingly.

I choose to turn and face the wave this day, knowing that regardless of the “hit” my survival has already been written in the history books.

Some days … some seasons … our ships, like the Apostle Paul’s, get the “go ahead” from God to run aground. Our safety isn’t in question. We may feel as if it is; after all, the waves are high and the surge is certain. We may have lost all hope of being saved from the storm; but even there, our God comes to us in the dark of the night and reminds us that not one of us will be lost. We live with the assurance that our lives will be spared. But our ships? Our comfortable and our familiar?

Well, sometimes they know the splintering and breakage of an intentional island, placed in our paths on purpose and with the sole intention of stripping us down to the basics. The island is never intended to destroy us but, rather, to save us. Without it, we are at risk of succumbing to the treacherous battering from a sea’s fury whose relentless passion has sent more than a few ships to a watery and forgotten grave.

With the island, we get reprieve. A fresh start. A place of beginning again; of rebuilding and renewal and re-examination of a life that will continue down a new path, yet one with the same destination in mind.

Home to God.

He will use many routes to get us there, all manner of detours and obstacles to accomplish our arrival. We may not always welcome the change … the “stripping down” and painful emptiness that calls for our contemplation and our maturation. But to deny its reality is to delay its intentional good. And God is after our good; not for goodness’ sake, but for his sake. For his plan. For his perfected end that gloriously welcomes and includes our “becoming” as part of the determined process.

Perhaps this day the waves are fiercely and desperately chasing you from behind. Your ship is hanging by a thread and your efforts at “lightening the load” are doing little to quell the fury. Your “frantic and frenzy” at trying to “out swim” the inevitable embrace of the waves in order to reach the safety of the shore has worn you out and your exhaustion is complete.

Would you be willing to pause, to stop where you are, to dig your heels deeply into the soil beneath your weary feet and then to courageously, turn and face the wave? Sometimes a ship has to be willing to be broken in order for a life to be saved. It maybe your ship … your life. It maybe the life of someone you dearly love. Either way, the willingness to invite the “stripping down” of the waves is the beginning of the “building up” of a new way of doing life with Jesus.

Thus, keep up your courage, friends, and I will keep up mine. I have all the confidence in my God to lead us as we go and to bring us safely home, just as he has said. Our God is ever faithful. He will do it.

Even so, do it today, Lord Jesus. As always…

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