I buried my face into the hem of Daddy’s coat, embarrassed, because again he had introduced me as his “favorite child.” I remember the many times my blushed face showed my emotions. I knew I was the only child born to my parents; wasn’t this statement greatly exaggerated–or even a lie? I’m confident that most people came to know the facts, but I still wished he wouldn’t say that. This continued throughout my childhood, at least until I could insist upon his telling the “whole truth.” But why was I so uncomfortable with his statement?

I was into my twenties before I realized how precious this introduction was. Daddy’s perception of me, whether I was the only one or one out of many children, was that I was his “only and favored child.”

“He called a little child and had him stand among them. And He said, ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.'” Matthew 18:2-4

Inside each one of us is the need to be loved ~ loved individually and unconditionally ~ as if we are the “only child.” We are made to need a father and mother; we need to be lovingly parented. That’s the only way we’re going to become “like little children.” God made us to need this kind of security. He also knows we live in a fallen world, with many parents themselves not being truly parented as He intended. Crippled to varying degrees, they fall short of representing Father’s love as He intended. So He made a way for us all to be perfectly loved, even loved as He loved Jesus. He is no respecter of persons:

“I in them and You in Me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that You sent Me and have loved them EVEN AS YOU HAVE LOVED ME.” John 17:23

Jesus was His “only child.” So Father loves me [and you] as His “only child.”

As a small child, I felt so overwhelmed by my big daddy telling such a big tale! Yet it prepared me to easily receive the kingdom truth about Father’s love for me. As we humble ourselves and become as a little child,  we can receive the immeasurable greatness of His love.

The kingdom of heaven is fully experienced by ‘only children.’

G. K. Chesterton suggested that “thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.” I truly wish to live on the grateful side of the street; however, I meander so selfishly to the other side. How easy it is to count losses more often than we care to admit…even to ourselves. If thanksgiving is the highest form of thought, then ~ oops! ~ my altitude is slipping.

God’s gifts surround me, yet I’m lost in the slumber of forgetfulness. The edge of my senses get dulled by what I feel I ‘should’ be seeing, feeling, tasting, smelling, and hearing. Ever so egocentric ~ longing to have my way ~ even if I’m trying to hide my thoughts.

Thanksgiving grows out of a heart of humility. A heart fully submitting to the Lord’s choices for the day ceases to balk at what would otherwise seem to suit our pleasure. When I’m honest, I realize I’m still sitting by the roadside, counting my losses, inwardly [and sometimes outwardly] grumbling and complaining, measuring what pleases me as opposed to what pleases my Lord or others.

The author of Hebrews wrote: “Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise ~ the fruit of lips that openly profess His name.” [13:15] “Through Jesus…and professing His name” — as opposed to being through me and professing my name.

Gracie, our youngest granddaughter j.o.y.f.u.l.l.y served us this morning: setting the breakfast table, making up every bed that was emptied, and helping me to fold laundry. She thanked me for allowing her to do these things–things that I would deem woefully mundane. Her face glowed as she served our family. So divinely placed, the Kingdom of God is revealed to me in countless ways through my grandchildren. Jesus said, “…Of such is the Kingdom.” These children have kept their “happiness doubled by wonder.” I must choose the grateful side of the street!

Present moments will never be again. In my hastiness, how many of them throughout the day have I ignored, dismissed, or slighted? While all of life passes by so quickly, how many glorious moments have slipped by while my eyes have been too dull to see what God has gifted me? Around me there are a multitude of here-and-now wonders. Help me see them, Lord ~ open my eyes.

Thank You, Holy Spirit, that You bring so many to my remembrance. Memory is like having a second chance at catching on to this glorious life. You said, “The memory of the righteous is a blessing.” [Proverbs 10:7] I’ve been so hasty; I’ve been so rushed, that I now need pictures in my mind, and in my hands, to help me re-visit them.

February 16th would have been our son’s 44th birthday. This, being our ‘first’ birth-date after his Homegoing, we are turning our mourning into a day of grateful recall. Paul wrote: “Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God.” [Philippians 1:3 ESV].

We are grateful that we were chosen to be his parents. Grateful that he lived to know and love the Lord Jesus. Grateful that he fell in love and married his childhood friend. Grateful that he and his wife bore three wonderful sons. Grateful that we have precious memories to hold so dear, since they must be in his absence.

Our hearts long for his presence ~ the ache is so deep. We look into the faces of his three sons and see his reflection. Our senses are heightened to things we enjoyed together: foods, music, sounds, the smell of his after shave, the blue of his eyes, seasons of nature, his fun-loving disposition, animated sporting events, holidays, treasured and long-time friends ~ all making us so aware of his favorites in life.

Memories will keep him alive in our hearts, just as the Apostle Paul gave thanks because he remembered those at the church at Philippi. The heart draws them forth from memory’s storehouse and relishes past moments of joy.

Among our son’s last words to our family were: “Always and forever … don’t forget … always and forever.” Until we join him in Heaven, memories will help to make him an always and forever present comfort.

“He makes me to lie down in green pastures…” [Psalm 23:2]

Distractions bombard my mind. Negative thoughts catapult over the walls of my soul and find their way into the chambers of my heart. Off in many directions go my thoughts–here and there, unrestrained, running away from home ~ the altar of worship.

It’s cold out here. I feel lost. I’m beginning to forget what it means to worship my God? I am leaning into unbelief ~ certainly into distrust ~ while my soul feels it is breaking into many pieces? My world begins to spin out of control, far from making sense. A world I designed for myself, while mapping my own way.

What levels this imbalance? What soothes and thus relieves my anxieties, my frets, my fears? Nothing does like worshiping the Lord, my God… while lying down in His meadow of lush, nurturing green pastures.

But I want to sit up! I want to stand up! I want to walk, even run, my own way!! “All we like sheep have gone astray, every one to his own way.” [Isaiah 53:6] Good Shepherd, who knows my woolly ways, “makes me to lie down in green pastures.” He knows I’m hungry. He knows I need rest. He knows I am prone to wander beyond the fence line. My soul wrestles its own Gethsemane within this fold. I kick from within. His will? My will? His will? My will?

How does He ‘make’ me to lie down when He’s given me free will? E.v.e.r so cleverly: fragmentation. I’ve run hard after my own ways and lunged headlong into the proverbial wall.

“Lie down?” I argue. How could ‘lying down’ solve my problems?

Then His light breaks forth, and I see it. It’s not in the position of my body that brings balance to my soul. It’s the posture of my heart ~ lying before Him, worshiping Him, in total dependence ~ winning that wrestling match within my soul. Some of the fragments come together. Wholeness begins as I lie my soul down in His green pastures…this place called home.

Palms up … and I receive.

“My soul longs for You like a thirsty land. Selah.” [Psalm 143:6b]

As I hunger and thirst for the living water, I realize that the Lord Jesus helps me realize my desperate need of Him. He fashioned me to desire all of Him and to settle for nothing less.

Spiritual starvation is only moments away from His glory. Soul palms up, and He soaks me through and through. No umbrellas are in my hands, for He pours out nourishing, spiritual rain.

Dry bones … dry skin … dry mouth … dry inner being lap up the beauty of His boundless supply. And He never fails to saturate, if I will remain hungry and thirsty and lift my soul palms up.

When my mouth registers thirst, my body is already at a stage of dehydration. When my soul yearns from a state of thirst, I’ve already entered that condition of discomfort. So I gulp desperately, and my anguished soul is saturated with life.

Jesus called it a state of being blessed when we come to Him in such need. “Blessed … to be envied … fortunate … spiritually prosperous … are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness … for they shall be completely satisfied.” [Matthew 5:6 AMP]

“Now unto Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us.” [Ephesians 3:20]

It’s impossible to drink of Him and to remain thirsty. The well of living water forever stays ‘exceedingly abundant.’ We are the yearning of His heart, the dearly beloved of His soul. He delights to fill us to overflowing, beyond all that we ask or think, so that our cups run over profusely ~ then into the lives of others.

Palms up … and I drink to the deepest satisfaction of my soul. Again and again. “I will praise You for I am fearfully and wonderfully made” to be hungry and thirsty for You, Lord.

Hagar had been cast aside, even run out of the city. Destitute and out of water, she prepared herself and her son to die. To her amazement, this was God’s grandest stage.

The Amplified Bible paints a picture of God’s radiance in the midst of grey skies: “We [actually] saw His glory … For out of His fullness [abundance] we have all received one grace after another and spiritual blessing upon spiritual blessing and even favor upon favor and gift [heaped] upon gift.” [John 1:14, 16] This is 20/20 spiritual vision. But Hagar’s vision was impaired.

Nothing prepares our dulled senses for His glory like adversity. “Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water.” Genesis 21:19  The well had always been there, as God’s provision. She was blinded by pain and heartache — maybe she had not wanted to see it — til now!

While expecting our 4th child, my husband and I were filled with joy. Our youngest boy was 10 years old. Our desires for another child remained strong. Unfortunately, miscarriage followed. Returning from the hospital, my husband and three children longed to comfort me … but sadness was deep. As Hagar, I couldn’t see a well of water. My soul’s flask was empty.

It was in the midst of this despair that I heard Him speak the word “Hope.” When He did, all sadness and gloom dissipated. One word ~ one small word ~ exploded within my soul and opened my eyes to see the well of provision. He awakened me to a future filled with hope, and within twelve months, Bethany was born.

One thing Hagar did realize was: “You are the God who sees me. Have I truly seen the One who sees me?” She even named the place Beer-lahai-roi ~ “well of the Living One who sees me.”

Hope opens blind eyes to see that He sees us. The cloudy skies of our souls open to fresh water. We drink deeply and come to realize that His provision is greater than ours. Hagar’s meager flask of water in no way compared to God’s bountiful well of water.

Refresh yourselves in Him. He always provides, in His way, in His timing, and more than we could possibly need.

A walk down Memory Lane is not all romantic. Road signs along the lane mark defining moments of how life brings changes. Some memories are soothing; others, bring stabs of pain. Not all experiences do we vote into our heart’s ‘hall of fame.’

In one of the most recent mentoring classes, the assignment I gave was for everyone to prepare a timeline of the highlights of their lives. We were to come prepared to share them in class. Unprepared for some of the emotional collisions in my soul, I realized that some of the memory markers had left lasting effects. Even more amazing to me were some of the events that, at the time of occurrence, had seemed insignificant.

A teacher’s seating arrangement in junior high school chorus class placed me beside someone soon to become my friend. How would I have guessed that this assignment had eternal purpose? She invited me to camp with her church youth group that summer. It was at vesper’s by the sea that I gave my 13-year-old heart to the Lord.

Though this was decades ago, I still remember the warm sea breeze blowing through my hair and the freshness of the atmosphere where hearts were so impressionable. Never will I forget the first scripture I ever took to my heart as a memory marker: Micah 6:8. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

As I worked on my timeline, one unalterable truth became apparent: God is faithful! He chooses us and then waits for us to choose Him. Having already ordained a plan for us, He patiently waits while we decide whether we will submit to His divine plan or to stubbornly insist upon our lame plan .

His Spirit directs us into life-altering places, permitting us to meet people who bless us, and even hurt us, and waits for us to come to the realization that He works it all together for good. Purpose was hidden down the dusty hallways of my past experiences. Until I took a walk along Memory Lane, I had missed some of the ebbs and flows of His hand.

Mark Batterson writes: “The past is not circumstantial. The past is providential.” Memory markers are divinely placed. We read them to understand God’s intent. Each moment is designed by Him to leave eternal impressions upon us and then upon those we meet: the simple smile to the sales clerk who might have considered suicide … the gift of time spent with someone who thought God had forgotten them. Perhaps we wouldn’t have voted our small gestures into the heart’s hall of fame … but they would.

I will spend eternity being thankful for a junior high school choral seating assignment that led me to the biggest decision of my life!

“We know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. For those God foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of His Son.” Romans 8:28-29

I remember well the humble beginnings in pioneering our church. Our first facility was on the 2nd floor of a building which housed two bars on the lower level. Our location was right in the heart of downtown. During the walk to our cars at night, we often met with solicitations from drug addicts scheming for money. Those seeking financial assistance came regularly ~ the same sad story repeated. One who randomly attended, at least for a handful of years, was Bascum.

Alcohol had altered his gait, and his mind had been severely impaired by years of addiction. Stains and smells on his clothing could have brought him shame–had he been aware of them. Though he had limited conversation with our members, it was obvious that his mind had also been affected. Most always, he was half-shaven.

The question was: Who was going to sit next to him? Who would warmly welcome him to our flock? It was obvious that God had called us to a “pop quiz.”

Most memorable was the Christmas that the children of our church filled a basket with practical items for Bascum.  A comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, socks, fruit, candy, toboggan, gloves, a Bible, etc., brought him great such joy. What an unforgettable sight it was to see him walking three blocks away to his government-supported facility, sporting a wide grin, and holding tight to his precious gift basket.

One Sunday morning, after a few years in relatively quiet attendance, Bascum raised his hand to speak. All eyes turned his way. He testified to have walked into several downtown churches over the years–some large ones–some small ones–adding that he was shunned in most and asked to leave from others. His simple, clear message was to thank us for welcoming him into our young church family and for loving him as Jesus would love His children.

Our hearts were arrested. Most of us wept. What if we’d shunned him, or moved away from his seat, or called him down when he walked in front of the podium to go to the restroom, or failed to consider his basic needs? I don’t want to think how close we came–at least in our thoughts.

Not long after this time of testimony, Bascum’s health declined even more. We were called to the hospital to visit him. We hardly recognized him: clean and shaven. He was so proud his pastors were there. The joy was ours; Bascum had walked right into our hearts. Recovery was limited as he entered a rehabilitation facility where we visited him for a short while until Bascum met his Lord.

I often wonder what “grade” Father God would have given us on the attitudes of our hearts. Though we had received Bascum by our actions, perhaps our thoughts or judgments could have reduced our score.

We never know when another “pop quiz” is going to be sprung on us. Maybe our scores will improve if we practice the art of loving the least of these. We could be entertaining smelly, urine-stained, half-shaven”angels unaware.”

Gardening is therapeutic; I love tilling the soil. Planting shrubs, flowers, and vegetables, is rewarding and can be a school room of fresh insight.

Plants flourish when we know what they need. Perennials will return every year, if pruned and fertilized. Annuals bring joy, but, sadly, they don’t stick around very long. How surprised I was when impatiens seeds defied their cycle and returned for numerous seasons.

Soil, very important to the health of a garden, is designed to be mineral-rich. In breaking up fallow ground and removal of old life-sucking roots, room is made for expansion. Plants need protection from gnawing insects who love their tender leaves, flowers and fruit.

Pastoring is much the same. The flock, like most plants, needs tilling, extraction, protection: and thus, is nurtured. Annuals ~ those who visit for a while ~ bring joy. Perennials bring greater joy as they root down, grow and remain a part of the beauty of the garden.

The full counsel of the scriptures fed to the flock yields light, water, and food for the maturing. As a pastor, I exercise the skill of nurturing as I learn how to remove stumps, roots, and hindering clumps of clay– preparing the soil to receive more nourishment.

Pruning, though seldom welcomed, is essential. Some pruning is extreme, as in cutting near to the root system–perhaps ushering in a season of dormancy. Yet, the result is intended to promote increased fruit-bearing.

Some pruning is milder, such as clipping away suckering stems or limbs that drain life from the plant. Whether extreme or mild pruning, ministering the Word of God is intended to bring teaching, reproof, correction and training in righteousness. The plant, just as  woolly sheep of the flock, is relieved of its excess and can grow into its destiny.

Admittedly, I’m nostalgic as I carry away an armful of the garden’s dead limbs, life-suckering stems, and fading flowers. I’m reminded of days when they served the garden [ or the church] well. My arms long to hold tight–finding it difficult to release the old plants to make rich compost–or letting go of the ones who will transplant elsewhere. There’s a joke around my house that I will keep a vase filled with cut flowers until the flowers become a dried arrangement.

Pastoring calls for moving with the ebb and flow of nature’s cycles. As is true for plant life, it is intended to produce from its seed, to bring glory to God–even if it springs forth in foreign soil. On a few occasions, the wind’s shift and the plant’s seed returns to our garden [church]. What grace of God it takes to accept the Master Gardener’s plan for how the garden grows.

John…bent over…knees aching…head throbbing, remained at the foot of the Cross. His mind was whirling with questions. Confused, yet uncommonly loyal to the One he loves. What his eyes beheld could have caused anyone to run away as fast as they could run. Many did. Yet, John remained true.

This brother’s example teaches me about steadfastness. While unanswered questions race through my mind, I want to run away. Where to? No place makes sense. Where were the other disciples ~ the ones who witnessed the same as John ~ where did they go? They pledged their devotion to Jesus too. They slept next to Him beside dusty roads. They ate with Him. They watched Him turn water to wine. Where were they while He paid such penalty for their sins?  Where am I, when He’s proven Himself to me in countless ways ~ yet while doubts also plague my mind?  John remained true.

Regardless of circumstances, John was steadfast to the end: to Calvary and beyond. How deep a love that is; so deep that I lean in to understand. I press the ink on the pages of scripture to squeeze out revelation. This love that I read about endured darkness, thunder, lightning–even bewilderment of soul. I want–no, I desperately NEED–to know that depth of love and loyalty when I don’t understand what my Lord is doing.

Jesus said to John, “Behold your mother.” If we could talk, I’d ask: ‘What did you feel, John, when the Son of God gave you the care of His beloved mother? His heart must have been deeply grieved to leave her, yet He entrusted her to your care. While kneeling beneath the blood-drenched cross, did you consider that He might also be speaking about us, the Church? Was He entrusting to us that which is precious to Him ~ to love and care for “as Christ loved the Church and gave Himself up for her”?’

Light beam: When Your light shines in my heart, Lord, do you find me bent over in this kind of reverence to You? My knees ache and my head throbs due to weakness of flesh. I have so many unanswered questions. Confusion tries to settle in. Yet, having beheld the Church–I’m forever smitten with love for her…because of You. I need Your light to help me remain a true disciple.