It’s been a while since I’ve made mention of my book, “peace for the journey”; I’m not into self-promotion. That being said, when a blogging friend takes the time to give my book a mention… takes the time to invest some of her energy with my words, then I am honored to share her thoughts with you. Click on this link to read Nancy’s post. Leave a comment there, and I’ll have Nancy select a winner to receive an autographed copy. Shalom!
PS: To order a copy visit Amazon or the Resource tab.
For all of God’s missionaries, at home and abroad, who carry his candle to dispel the world’s darkness.
We overslept this morning. The alarm didn’t ring because the alarm wasn’t set. 6:15 AM came and went with nary a nod of acknowledgement from my household. 7:30 fared better. By 7:30, we were all awake. And had it not been for one thing, I imagine we might still be sleeping.
Light.
The culprit behind our reprimand … our notice … our awareness that a new day has been gloriously granted to us, despite our willingness to forego the fanfare.
Try as we may, we cannot escape light’s grip. We can pull the blinds and draw the curtains so as to diminish its brilliance, but we cannot eliminate its arrival. Light simply and profoundly comes.
To awaken us from our slumber.
To rouse us from our laziness.
To raise us up from our lying down.
To stir our spirits toward action.
To heighten our awareness.
To warm us from the chill of a night’s embrace.
To free us from the confines of our covers.
To gift us with the beauty of a new day.
To remind us that not even the darkest shade of night is permanent.
Light comes to bear witness to the illumination of God’s presence in our lives. Darkness isn’t safe from the penetration of God’s candle—God’s flicker of hope. There is no darkness that comes to us that doesn’t carry its contrast in close proximity. Light always harbors in the shadows of a night’s pause, readying itself for a grand and sacred interruption into the darkness.
And lest we think there are days when “light” forgets to come—days when light decides to “take a pass” regarding its purpose—there hasn’t been a day since the beginning of time when “light” didn’t shine its witness. Not one. Light may seem hidden, removed and obscured from our visioning, but light is ever-present because light is the living characteristic of a living Creator who lives in our every day. He cannot be separated from his creation, and he never “takes a pass” on his days.
Light follows God wherever he goes. And today, he goes where you go. Where I go. Where my kids go and where his saints go. Even where the sinners go. Why? Because for light to be light, for light to shine its worth and harbor the full spectrum of its truthful meaning, it must be available in the darkest of nights to the darkest of souls.
I’m not one who believes that light is selective in its appearing, is choosy and is particular about where it shines. And while it is true that “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all,” (see 1 John 1:5) the greater truth is that God’s light has come to dispel that very darkness; to replace the night’s isolation with the witness of a day’s illumination.
Even the darkest of nights is as light to Jesus Christ. Only he is able to mediate his way through the lingering depth of a night’s pause to light a candle in honor of a new day … a new way … a new heart … a new forever.
Fourteen years ago, my light—Jesus Christ—traveled the depth of a night’s long lingering in order to interrupt my darkness with the flicker of his sustaining truth. That single candle of hope carried to me in the “dark night of my soul” now burns with the flaming intensity of a miracle. Had God not arrived in my life at that moment, had he allowed the sun a longer season of slumber, I’m pretty sure that the darkness would have been my continuing consumption.
But like my morning this morning, I could not escape light’s grip. For a long season I’d been pulling down the shades in hopes of hiding my sin and of keeping the Son’s brilliance from illuminating my darkness, but my darkness was as light to Jesus. My darkness was the navigational GPS he used to get to me. God found me in my slumber and invited me to the arrival and hope of a new day.
I’m so glad that I had the good sense to wipe away the sleep from my eyes in order to pay attention to the light in his. I’m so thankful that Light didn’t “take a pass” on my darkness but, instead, chose to walk the length and breadth of my sin in order to flame a candle in my honor.
Arise and shine, fellow pilgrims, for your Light has come. May the candle he lights in your honor this day be the fueling behind your future flames, the likes of which this world has never seen. Burn brightly with God’s truth and God’s witness this weekend. What a privilege to carry my candle alongside yours. As always…
peace for the journey,
~elaine
PS: Go visit my friend, Heidi (click here), to learn about an upcoming opportunity to spread the light of Jesus into the far corners of our world.
Now, go light your world…
“Then King David went in and sat before the LORD, and he said: ‘Who am I, O LORD God, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far? And as if this were not enough in your sight, O God, you have spoken about the future of the house of your servant. You have looked on me as though I were the most exalted of men, O Lord God.’” (1 Chronicles 17:16-17).
He was a composer of music. A poet of lyrics. A singer of songs. A man in pursuit of his Maker. His name was David, and he was God’s beloved. He talked to God in the way that I want to talk to God. With real words. With truthful intent. With raw, unedited emotion that trusts the process…that believes that the One who is on the receiving end will receive my words with grace…with mercy…with love.
David’s life was meant for a song, for indeed, he had known the grace and mercy and far-reaching love of his God. David knew what it was to be exalted among men. Greater still, he lived his journey knowing the exultation of his Father, and in the end, we benefit from the remnants of such a gracious knowing. We are left to the great examination of David’s life by studying the song he left behind—his walk of grace as sung to us through the words of scripture.
Many of his melodies are recorded in the Psalms—a book of songs that lead a heart on pilgrimage. They are meditations for the soul that harmonize with our emotions to orchestrate a tune of perfect pitch. We cannot help but be moved by their effecting power. No matter the season of our current living, we find our story within the Psalms and take our place alongside our spiritual ancestors to chorus its truth.
This generation boasts some modern-day Psalmists—poets who pen God’s truth with the same raw emotion of King David. Psalmists who create songs that span the spectrum of human preference and personal taste, but who remain unified in their purpose to move our emotions and our wills to a higher place of worship…of acknowledging the Song-Giver.
I asked my Bible study friends regarding their preferences for worship…for songs that quickly move them into the presence of our Father. Some preferred contemporary songs, while others chose the hymns of their youth. Songs like…
I Can Only Imagine. This is the Day. You Raise Me Up. Shackles. His Eye is on the Sparrow. I Know My Redeemer Lives. He Lives. It is Well. How Great Thou Art. Great is Thy Faithfulness. Believe. Open the Eyes of my Heart. Awesome God. Beyond the Sunset. Praise You in the Storm. The Anchor Holds.
These are just a few of the pilgrimage songs that mean so much to the women in my life. But there was one song that received more press than the others. A top vote-getter. A song well familiar to pilgrims for nearly three centuries.
It was penned by the heart of a psalmist named John Newton. John grew up in England during the 1700’s where he was groomed for a life at sea. John worked as a crewman on fishing vessels and would later stand at the helm of many slave-trading ships. His conversion to Christ came through the hardships that he experienced while at sea. Tempestuous storms and fevered sickness carried John on pilgrimage to Jesus, and once he arrived at grace, his heart turned to the pursuit of the grace-Giver.
John would spend the rest of his years preaching about this God—this water-Walker who met him in the storms of life and who offered him such an amazing grace. It was a sweet-sounding grace that permeated his wretched condition and brought him home to his Father. In 1772, as John was preparing for an upcoming New Year’s Day sermon, he pondered the thoughts of King David as found in 1 Chronicles 17:16-17:
“… ‘Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?’ … ”
John’s heart echoed with the similar sentiment of King David, as he penned his thoughts to write what would become one of the most cherished pilgrim songs of today. Amazing Grace. Grace Amazing. A favorite song…psalm…scripted by the hands of a man who had experienced the fullness of such a sacred bounty.
I, too, have known such a portion. God’s amazing grace began its work on my behalf long before I had the heart and the will to receive its effecting power. But there came a day when I did perceive it and, thus, received it and began my pilgrimage home to my Father.
I may not be able to write a tune like King David or John Newton, but the Song of their hearts persists deep within me. He scripts my days and pens my purpose. He punctuates my life with meaning. He is the melody of his Father’s love. His name is Jesus, and, indeed, his grace is amazing.
Today, I sing because of it. Not out of requirement, but because this listless and stammering tongue can think of nothing or no one more worthy of my praise. I want to be a psalmist like David…like John. And so I pray…
Father, take my words…my raw, unedited emotions…and script them for your eternal purposes. Let me not be afraid of my voice. Instead, let my voice be the instrument that you use to sing your peace, your grace, and your love to world that longs to hear a better Song. A world that needs to sing a better Song. You are that Song, Lord. You have written your melody upon my heart. Today, I release my voice to sing its grace. Amen.
And now…sing with Chris Tomlin—one of God’s most anointed psalmists of our day—this familiar song of old.
peace for the journey~elaine
One of the things I love most about Sabbath days is the unexpected presence of Christ in the most chaotic of moments.
We are not unfamiliar with chaotic Sundays. We are a clergy family, and by the time I arrive at church with my four kids (my husband has been gone for hours by this time), I am in great need of a rest…Sabbath or otherwise. Today was no different.
Arriving at Sunday School, I noticed my friend, Frank, in the corner with his Sunday School literature. He teaches our class one Sunday a month. It was good to see him this morning. His wife and my dear friend, died two weeks ago from a six year battle with cancer.
I shouted across the crowded room to him and asked him if he was the teacher for the day. He gave me a a hesitant smile (he never knows what I am going to say…), and I responded in the affirmative!
I told him that when I woke up this morning I really had the desire and “want to” to be present in God’s house and meet with Him in a special way. However, at this point, I was in a considerable “lather” and admonished him to bring me the Word. I really needed a Word. He smiled back and assured me that he would do his best.
That Word came…somewhere between his opening prayer and Luke’s teaching on the sending out of the 72 and the closing moments of sending forth. Really, the sacred pause came for me when my Spirit settled down to receive the witness of the man standing in front of me. Tendered with his pain from losing so much coupled with his tender heart for God, a Sabbath rest was found, and I was never so happy to be in God’s house this morning.
Sabbath rest comes in many different ways. This morning, God used Frank to bring it to me. Seek his rest this day and in the days to come. Seek our Lord, while he still may be found.
peace for the journey~elaine
