Stillness at the Cross

  "Jesus answered, 'I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.'"

John 14:6 NIV
  








The way of life is a mystery to me. 
How is it that something long lost 
is suddenly revived and found beating again?
How is it that the dead brown leaves
make way for growth after the winter?

Oh, I know the scientific answers. But the heart of it all is still a mystery to me.  This morning I watched a Mama Robin in her nest building cycle. She was certain that the fluffy landscape netting, left-over from last year's patch of lawn seeding, would make fine nesting material. She tugged and pulled, and hopped and yanked, but the more she worked, the more tangled the strings became. Finally, after more patience than I would have shown, she gave up and left the knot lying in the yard.

I've faced those same kinds of knots. Have you? Those kinds that leave my weary mind reeling. Those kinds that stay knotted and twisted for years, even, as a situation refuses to be unraveled, and peace remains elusive.

During these last few weeks of journeying into a Lenten Stillness, as my heart has been leaning into a new kind of resting in Jesus, I've heard Him speak of a different way of unraveling.  He has come to bring us HIS life, but in so doing, He has entered into our very places of knotting pain. If you are part of the Faith Practice that observes the Stations of the Cross during Holy Week, then you will be very familiar with this Scripture Passage. I grew up in a Church that did not practice many of the old traditions, so these are new thoughts to me.  But my Online Bible Study Group has been reading through the book of Luke, and right there in my chapter for the day was the same verse that a friend had just spoken about from her Stations of the Cross journey:

Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children.

Luke 23:28 NIV 

And my own heart wept. Jesus took upon himself all of my pain, and all of the pain of my children. He took all of your pain also.  Those knots that twist away in the muscles of your heart, leaving you gasping for air? He is right there, waiting to show you His love.  The problem is that we look away. 

We somehow grasp that 

He came to bring us Salvation from 

 OUR SINS.

But our pain

and our problems?

Well those 

must be unknotted

and solved 

by our own wits.

And just like Mama Robin,

we walk away

when the knots

are too strong,

and the web can't be

unwoven

by any effort of our own.

But Jesus came to help us face 

the pain,

to acknowledge the grieving,

and to finally find HIM here

loving us still

and 

rising again

with LIFE for us all.

These words were whispered into my heart, as I looked at the pain and the knots that remained in my own life this week. May they speak God's Love to you, as they spoke to me:

At the Cross

My daughter sit with me
here
grieve and wail
for the injustice
and pain
that my people
must bear.

My Body
was broken
for you, for them.
My heart
was torn open
as I carried
the cross.

But my people
can't see
how I've never
stopped loving
never stopped
giving
never stopped
seeing.

I see the wounds
they bear
I see the grief
they carry

I see the pain
you feel
I see the wounds
you bear.

The cross
Your cross
My cross
I swallowed up death
and I swallowed the pain
in the Love that I gave
for you
for them.

Sit with me here
Taste my mercy
and know
There is nothing
between us now.
                   --BG

May this song be a place of rest with Jesus for you:

 

I am linking this week with:

Debbie Kitterman, #TuneInThursday 

Suzie Eller, #LiveFreeThursday

 

Preparing for Wonder

                                                                                              Psalm 131:2

 This little creature

quivers and groans

as she tries to please her people.

"Place!" is the command

And she runs to her spot

All noiseless and still. 


Oh, but if you only knew! This little Grandpuppy of mine is anything BUT still! She is a force of nature bursting with energy. Chasing her human-boy-sibling, and guarding the home, there's never a moment for rest. But offer a treat, and call the word, "Place!" and all else around her dims. Her focus is keen and alert, quietly waiting.
  

Ahh, the lessons I could learn! 

In the middle of my quest to learn more about Heart-Stillness, I have been part of an Online Devotional Study on the book of Luke, led by Ifeoma Samuel, who blogs at: Purposeful and Meaningful.  Last week my thoughts were stirred within me as we read the Christmas Story in Luke 1 and 2 -- not your usual readings during Lent, the time of preparation before Easter! The story of Zechariah, and his questioning of the angel's promise, followed by his time of silence until his own son, John, was born, struck a chord within me.

And then just this week, my readings led me to another great Biblical blogger, Joanne Viola, and her site:  Joanne Viola, Days and Thoughts, where she wrote more beautiful thoughts about the waiting time required by Zechariah. As I typed out my response to her blog, I heard the Lord say "pay attention to what you are writing."

Has that ever happened to you? In the middle of your own writing, or speaking, have you heard the Lord say,

"Just listen to yourself!"

And there were my words, the cursor flashing before me: "I’ve often wondered if God used that time of silence in Zechariah’s life to grow wonder & awe in his heart?"  

. . . 

In these days of my own stillness and silence, is God perhaps wanting to grow something similar in me? I have sensed a longing for more awe, for more child-like wonder in my heart over many years, throughout many seasons in my life.  


Lifting up that longing for wonder to the Lord, I would spend several days trying desperately to keep my eyes open for that wonder.  Hunting and digging, as for buried treasure, I searched out those nuggets in my days that seemed to speak of awe or wonder.  But invariably, the busyness of life returned. Days became months, and the hunt for treasure took a backseat to duties and chores and the need of the moment.

So what have I been missing? 

How could a heart filled with such 

deep longing for wonder 

become so numb and so quick to move on?

Is it possible that the very lifestyle

I have now been given

could become a precursor

to AWE?

Is it possible that Zechariah's curse of silence

was actually given

to make way for a newness of heart--

a heart ready to receive

WONDER?

So I searched the Scriptures to find what kind of basis is  there for these questions of mine, and what kind of path is laid out for this journey I feel led to follow.

  The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
To the person who seeks Him. It is good that he waits silently
For the salvation of the Lord.  

Lamentations 3:25-26 NASB     

 

Only in a posture of waiting can my heart truly understand the salvation that has been won for me. This time of Lent, of laying down my own selfishness, is the perfect time to be still and watch for the Beauty that Jesus accomplished when He laid down His own life for mine. 

As my thoughts are stilled, 

as my heart seeks its "place" before Him,

will my ears become

ready?

Can I wait, quietly with Him,

to watch for

His Salvation

even here, even now?

Can I hear the angel's words

about Zechariah's son,

John, the one who would

 
"make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

Luke 1:17 

Yes, Lord, still our hearts, 

and prepare us

for your salvation. 


May you be blessed by this Messianic offering of worship:

  


I am linking today with:
Debbie Kitterman, #TuneInThursday 

HANDS

There it was again, that old familiar wake-up call: a wave of nausea followed by a jolt of pain and then the rush of anxiety.  This journey through RA/Fibromyalgia has left me well acquainted with the Night Watches of Anxiety.  But this time, a word followed closely on the heels of the normal rush: HANDS, and it came so insistently that I felt there must be something my Lord wanted to uncover inside of my thoughts.  


And then it all came back in a flood: this is the week for my husband's hand surgeries. After all these months of the RA attacking MY hands, and the pain and swelling, and even the residual tendon damage left after my meds have begun to bring me relief, now we must face the surgeries to repair carpal tunnel damage in both of my HUSBAND'S wrists. Simultaneously.  

Are you asking me to examine my hands, Lord?

Or are you trying to teach me

more

about YOUR hands?

A few months ago, a dear blogging friend, Trudy Den Hoed, wrote a beautiful blogpost about looking up and trusting that God is holding us. As the pain and anxiety rushed through me, the words of her post and the song she had posted were also running through my mind, bringing great comfort in the middle of the night.

Click here to read her post

My mind and body found peace as the Lord brought STILLNESS to the night watch again. But when I woke this morning, the word HANDS was still echoing in my thoughts. 

Yes, Lord, I trust you.

You have us

and 

You hold us.

But where is the foundation

of my knowing that?

What is the reason

I know your hands

are safe?

I know that my hands

are weak.

Forever

I am left with a 

reminder

of what disease

has done to my body.

How can I hold onto

YOUR hands

when my hands

can not hold close

to anything?

And then I knew. This weakness left behind in me, forever keeps my gaze fixed upward. There is only ONE who has the strength, enough to win salvation for me. And this ONE left HIS HOME in Heaven to make HIS HOME in ME.

 

Sing to the Lord a new song,
    for he has done marvelous things;
his right hand and his holy arm
    have worked salvation for him.

Psalm 98:1 NIV 

 

My hands may be weak. My husband's hands may be damaged. But we were never meant to work the healing necessary on our own. Jesus is the only safe one to hold onto us. And Jesus is the only one who holds out God's Salvation 

for me

and for my husband

and for you.

I am linking this week over at these great sites:
#TellHisStory Jennifer Dukes Lee 
#TeaAndWordTuesday Meg Weyerbacher