May Be So

What if being stuck is part of the process 

to learning the sounds of silence

Maybe there would be more sitting and 

less squandering 

more reaching and less running away

What if learning is 

a matter of the heart 

instead of the mind

Maybe sleep would be more sound 

and 

the questions left alone

What if the nothing

that is being done

really is 

as worthless as it feels

What if 

it’s not?

Sensibility

She opened her window to let the sweet smell of rain fill the room. 

She didn’t mind hearing the drops hit the trees before they fell to the ground, because it reminded her of an audience clapping after a performance at the symphony. Maybe this time is was the minstrels themselves applauding their long hours of work and celebrating the fruits of their labor.

Without realizing, she soon tuned out the jubilation and drifted into mindless activity. Then, just as suddenly, a bright flash shone across the sky. Following was its boisterous companion, which announced its attendance and commanded her attention once again. The hairs of her neck rose to see what all the fuss was about while her heart remained the only moving muscle in her body.

She breathed in deeply and exhaled consciously, growing in disappointment as she made her way to undo what she thought was a lovely idea just minutes before. She hopped to her feet, shut that shutter and locked it twice, moving swiftly to avoid another jolt. 

In spite of her haste, another part of her slowed down. And in those slow-motion moments, the world around her began to match the pace and peace of the voice coming from the depths of her self. 

He spoke to every part of her reality with just a few words…

You want the scent, but are you willing to hear, too? 

It may be surprising, and sometimes you won’t want to hear it, 

but will you shut it out all at once? 

Will you also shut your eyes from the light? 

Or will you let Me remove scales with beauty so bright? 

When I rain down, will you hide from Me? 

Or will you embrace Me and all I have to pour out? 

Know the scents. Know the sounds. Discern and listen.

Taste... See... It’s true: I am very good.

So will you shut the window, or will you take in what I am giving out?

Cost of Living

No one asked her if she wanted to be born. 

No one asked if she was going to be able to pay her way through life. That had already been considered. Just as the first man was chosen and created, so was she. 

Jehovah knew the needs of the first one He created. He met each one of them before He brought him to life, and then He taught him how to live on the land: in perfect communion with Himself. 

Generations later, she stood on the same earth, breathing the breath of the same God. She knew the footprints she left would be as different from the first man's as the impressions on her fingertips. But what they would share would be an incredible neediness and a brutal dependency for survival.  

The One they knew as Mighty and Powerful, they would first learn to call Jehovah Jireh, Provider Who will never fail. 

Is He not the same yesterday, today, and forever?

Is His word not the truth and His promise that which remains?

God is not a man, that He should lie,
 

nor a son of man, that He should repent. 

Has He said, and will He not do?

 Or has He spoken, and will He not make it good?

Numbers 23:19

Be Careful Little Ears...

A person who asks questions will usually hear answers.

But who will give the right one? 

And whose response is most important to the one who asks?

An ear can hear many things at once, 

but a heart and a mind can only listen to one thing at a time.

Choosing to listen requires tuning out everything else that is heard.

Listening is active. Hearing is passive.

The Day She'd Know Her Name

Another morning waking up with that familiar longing. 

"I want to be beautiful." 

She sat up, looked at herself in the mirror--hair unbrushed, face stripped of its mask. Then she closed her eyes and thought, "I want to be found lovely." 

Letting herself fall back onto her pillow, she threw the blankets over her head as her wishful thinking became brutally undermined:

"Your hair needs serious attention. And you have got to cover that face of yours, gross... You're lucky no one sees you now... You know, you're only pretty when you're dressed to the nines. Casual is just not cute on you... You've really let yourself go... And frankly, you're not good enou..."

"ENOUGH!" she shouted abruptly as she sat up. She took a deep breath and cried quietly. 

She was filled with frustration and hungry for the truth: Who said she had to be a certain way? Who told her she was ugly or out of place? Who had set the standard? 

Her King spoke:

"Someone who could care less about her. Someone whose only aim is to see her in the grave - lifeless, zapped of joy, and emptied of any idea of her worth, purpose and authority. Someone who forgot that the day she'd know her name and its meaning, he who veiled her sight would regret ever touching her."

In the days following, she walked even closer to the One who told her the truth, never minding personal space. She drank in every word He said and felt herself grow stronger with each one. 

One evening, she sat outside with the One worthy of her trust, and she asked, "How much do You love me, Papa?" She waited quietly, excitedly, curiously.

"Daughter, you see the stars in the sky? See how they shine brightly... And, daughter, see the trees and their branches raised up to the sky praising Me? I made these for you to see. Do you like them? I made them for you to see, My daughter. Tell Me, do you like them?"

She looked up at the velvet sky, then to the great oak trees that shared the ground she sat on. "Papa, I like them!" she said smiling. "They are truly incredible." Then she asked again, with the same curiosity and a new boldness, "Papa, I want to know. How much do You love me?"

"Daughter... My daughter, I love you more than these. I love you so much more than these."

She let her heart sing in a language only its Maker knew as a quiet wind blew and wrapped her in the softest cashmere. The leaves in the trees and every blade of grass cheered the Master, for what was affected by the wind could not stay silent. 

On a new day, they walked hand in hand, and He answered a question she had asked with her heart many times, for He knew the longings that still taunted her. 

The One who loved her magnificently said:

"Expect to see My beauty in yourself."

Had ever a statement been heard by her own ears, she knew not. So she inclined her ear in order to catch every precious word. 

"I made the heavens and the earth, the stars in the sky, the birds in the air, and the fish in the sea. I made that sea and the mountains and the meadows that you love. But you... only you I made to bear My image. I make beautiful things for you to enjoy, and I make people beautifully so that the world can see Me. I made you to be seen and cherished. I see you; I cherish you, and of all creation, I chose you, a human, to reflect Me. People are the creation I chose to give a desire and a capacity to love and to receive love...

And I chose women to bring life... Just as I give life... Like Me... In My likeness."