I thank God for you because He has shown me laughter through you.
I thank God for you because He has given me one who shares my life—in joy and in sorrow.
I thank God for you because He has shown me playfulness through you.
I thank God for you because He has shown me unconditional love through you.
I thank God for you because He has shown me delight through you.
I thank God for you because he has shown me how to adore through you.
I thank God for you because He has showered my life with giggles from you.
I thank God for you because He has shown me dancing joy through you.
I thank God for you because He has given me the gift of your hugs.
I thank God for you because He has shown me the miracle of life through you.
I thank God for you because He has taught me about healing grace through you.
I thank God for you because He has given me a namesake through you.
I thank God for you because He has given me the gift of your beautiful smile in my life.
I thank God for you because He has shown me a quiet gentleness through you.
I thank God for you because He showed me how to trust in Him by answering my prayers for you.
I thank God for you because you love to tease me and make me smile.
I thank God for you because He has shown me how to believe—in all circumstances—through you.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Of That I Am Certain
She’s not contented to let me be who I am—to leave me where I am. I like where I am.
Or, at least, I thought I did.
I can ask her any question, but she gives me, not the answer, but a new question. She pushes and pushes and pushes me. I don’t want all that pushing.
Or, at least, I thought I didn’t.
It’s always the big issues—never the minutiae of the day. It wears me out. All that pressing and pushing. I like minutiae.
Or, at least I used to.
Just when I think I have something figured out—she adds a new calculation or number to the formula. I don’t do math.
Well, I used to not do math.
When I ask for a straightforward answer, she always comes back with, “Maybe you should pray about.” There she goes again, a question to answer my question! I don’t want to pray and wait, I want an answer. I am not patient.
But I am learning to “be still.”
“How’s your spiritual walk?” she’ll ask. “It’s good,” I respond. “Really?” she says. “Okay, I’m not walking! Don’t you see how fat I’m getting?!” I “snark” back. “Really?” she says. It’s exhausting I tell you! I hate it.
Now I ask others the same question.
Isn’t it amazing that she wants so much more for me? Notice I said “for me,” not “from me.” She never wants anything from me; maybe that’s not fair. Does she care? She doesn’t.
I mean, she does.
She cares so much she doesn’t want me to be who I am or leave me where I am. Inertia isn’t an option. She wants so much more for me.
It’s very Christ-like don’t you think?
She “spurs me on” to be restless with me, and so does He.
Of that I am certain.
Or, at least, I thought I did.
I can ask her any question, but she gives me, not the answer, but a new question. She pushes and pushes and pushes me. I don’t want all that pushing.
Or, at least, I thought I didn’t.
It’s always the big issues—never the minutiae of the day. It wears me out. All that pressing and pushing. I like minutiae.
Or, at least I used to.
Just when I think I have something figured out—she adds a new calculation or number to the formula. I don’t do math.
Well, I used to not do math.
When I ask for a straightforward answer, she always comes back with, “Maybe you should pray about.” There she goes again, a question to answer my question! I don’t want to pray and wait, I want an answer. I am not patient.
But I am learning to “be still.”
“How’s your spiritual walk?” she’ll ask. “It’s good,” I respond. “Really?” she says. “Okay, I’m not walking! Don’t you see how fat I’m getting?!” I “snark” back. “Really?” she says. It’s exhausting I tell you! I hate it.
Now I ask others the same question.
Isn’t it amazing that she wants so much more for me? Notice I said “for me,” not “from me.” She never wants anything from me; maybe that’s not fair. Does she care? She doesn’t.
I mean, she does.
She cares so much she doesn’t want me to be who I am or leave me where I am. Inertia isn’t an option. She wants so much more for me.
It’s very Christ-like don’t you think?
She “spurs me on” to be restless with me, and so does He.
Of that I am certain.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Songs of Deliverance
Now listen to this . . . (As my dear friend Jan would say so often before quoting scripture.)
Psalm 32:6 & 7
Therefore, let everyone who is godly pray to You in a time when You may be found; Surely in a flood of great waters they will not reach him. You are my hiding place; You preserve me from trouble; You surround me with songs of deliverance.
Did you hear that? (Quoting Jan again.) He will surround you with songs of deliverance! That means you’re in bondage—whether it’s to your own desires, your own addictions, or someone else’s control over you, you are in need of deliverance! And until that deliverance, hide in Him. He will protect you. Until that deliverance, trust in Him. He is faithful. Until that deliverance, believe in Him. He is the giver of life. Until that deliverance, listen to Him. He is the master musician. He is surrounding you with songs—songs of deliverance!
Amen.
Psalm 32:6 & 7
Therefore, let everyone who is godly pray to You in a time when You may be found; Surely in a flood of great waters they will not reach him. You are my hiding place; You preserve me from trouble; You surround me with songs of deliverance.
Did you hear that? (Quoting Jan again.) He will surround you with songs of deliverance! That means you’re in bondage—whether it’s to your own desires, your own addictions, or someone else’s control over you, you are in need of deliverance! And until that deliverance, hide in Him. He will protect you. Until that deliverance, trust in Him. He is faithful. Until that deliverance, believe in Him. He is the giver of life. Until that deliverance, listen to Him. He is the master musician. He is surrounding you with songs—songs of deliverance!
Amen.
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