Stasi Eldredge's Blog, page 3

Waiting

The soft sound of a light morning rain dancing on the roof above me is so lovely. The earth is parched and we have been praying for rain. Now comes the roll of thunder. An early morning thunderstorm is a rare thing but it is a welcome one. 

I can practically hear the earth sighing in relief. It has been waiting long for this refreshment. It’s been more than thirty days since the last rain and the nearest forest fire is a mere ten miles away…hungrily bearing down.

But this rain will change things. It is not a passing thing and in its steady presence, the beautiful grey wet morning is a declining answer to the flames.

The prolonged waiting for rain has had an affect. Not only has the grass on the surrounding hills become crunchy, brown and vulnerable but the wildflowers that were exploding in Van Goghesque colors have vanished. We had been exulting over their beauty and then a moment later, they were gone; their splashes of color receding back into the monochromatic earth.

And we searched the sky with worried eyes praying for the rain to come.

It became the goodbye phrase in town. “Goodbye. Pray for rain!”

Perhaps that at least was a good thing. Because many, so many were praying for rain and not just here but all over the States. It has been a dry year. A dangerous year. Fires breaking records and engulfing homes and land and heartbreakingly even some lives. So we pray.

And now it is raining. The danger for the present is passed.

What are you praying for? Where are you parched?

Do you remember a prior season when your soul or your life was crunchy and vulnerable and you asked for intervention and you waited for relief and finally, unexpectedly even, it came?

It will come again. But I don’t know when. And I don’t know how deeply all of the waiting will affect the landscape of your life, your very soul or mine. But I do know that in the waiting and the praying and the dryness, God has not taken his eyes off of you. The One who is the Living Water refuses to leave us parched though He does allow us to thirst. May the thirsting hone us to come to more clarity of what we actually are thirsting for.

Friends, do not give up. Though waiting is h a r d and it is sometimes painful work; there is fruit in the labor.

Because the answer will come and it will come completely in Jesus. He is the Answer. He is the One we need. In downpours and droughts. In dry seasons and deluges. Hear it? There now. Thunder is rumbling in the distance.

Moths

Our house has been overtaken by moths.  A hatch of them has erupted giving space to more hatches and now they are beyond count. They are tiny things.  Bothersome things.  Things that want to land in my coffee and have a sip before my lips even touch the cup.  Something must be done.  Something will be done.

In the meantime, I have begun to think of them as miniature birds.  Little birds are wheeling around my living room and calling them that in my mind has elevated their existence from being irritating creatures to little wonders that fly.  

Re-naming them, thinking of them differently, changing my perspective about them -has changed how I feel about them.  And my feelings changing about them, has changed how I experience them.  One has just landed on my computer – delicate little thing.

Being an intelligent reader, I bet you can see where I’m going before I even make the leap.

Our thoughts matter. They play out in our lives.  What we name situations, people, our lives, even ourselves has a dramatic affect on how we experience them.  Am I a blow it as a woman who has let her house fall to the captivity of a multitude of moths or am I a wise woman who is living with the affects of a fallen world and not allowing the current situation to rattle her? Perhaps I have a foot in both descriptions – it depends on when you ask but I know which one I want to lean into.

On any given day, who are we?  What are our lives?  Good or bad? Blessed or cursed?  There is much power in what we name them.  And who gets to decide what we do?

Magazine covers?  Wall Street?  The person who honked at us yesterday when we made a small thoughtless error?  The teacher handing out the grades?  The boss handing out the promotions?  Or the God of the Universe?

The tricky part is that we haven’t arrived yet to inhabit all that is most deeply true about ourselves. We live in the in between – the already and the not yet.  The scriptures tell us we are now seated in the heavenlies with Christ Jesus and it is true.  But we still walk and navigate this world with clay feet.  We are.  And we are becoming.  And in this tightrope experience, what balancing rod do we hold on to?

Our failures or our future glory?  What the bullies named us or what our Father names us now? Are we a disappointment or the very crown of creation?

Dear one, beloved of God, our Father has named us good.  Our Jesus has declared the work finished.  Our God who sees the end from the beginning is not disappointed nor is He surprised.  He doesn’t regret His choice to rescue us nor resent the cost He paid to do it.  Our work now, is to believe Him; to marinate our hearts and minds in the truth of the Gospel; to agree with God and to let it change the way we feel – to let our experiences be based on the deepest reality of the Universe.  We are children of the Living God.  Holy and cherished in His sight.

We are not an irritation to be dealt with.  We are a beautiful creation being carved with loving intention.  And we can be defiantly joyful because of that.

Joy is Meant to be Ours

In this world we find ourselves living in, having joy often feels both crazy and out of reach. That’s why I included the word “defiant.” Defiant means to stand against the tide. It means to go against the flow, even when the flow is comprised of a strong current of despair and difficulty. To have joy in the midst of sorrow—or the never-ending news feed—can seem impossible. But joy is meant to be ours, a joy that is defiant in the face of this broken world. Our hearts are to echo the heartbeat of our joyous God.

Happiness is circumstantial.

I’m happy when I wake up and realize it’s not Monday, but Saturday—I have a day off! I’m happy when someone brings me a cup of coffee. I’m happy when I get a birthday card. I’m sad when a vacation is over. I’m sad when I mishandle the heart of a friend. I’m sad when no one remembers my birthday. I love being happy. But happiness is unpredictable; it feels vulnerable because it is tied to my circumstances. And don’t we all know it? One day you’re up; next day you’re down.

Joy is something else altogether.

It feels firmer, richer, less vulnerable somehow. I’m happy when my family goes out for ice cream, but it would seem a little overblown to say I was filled with joy because of it. I was joyful at all three of my sons’ weddings. I was filled with joy over the birth of our granddaughters. Joy flooded my heart when a dear friend was cleared of cancer. I don’t think it was merely happiness; the joy felt rooted in the presence of God. His hand was so evident.

Joy is not happiness on steroids. It is something entirely different, made up of its own unique substance. Joy is connected to God and reserved for those who are tapping into His reservoir, who are connected to His life.

Joy is rooted in God and His kingdom, in the surety of His goodness, His love for us. It is immovable. Unshakeable. It is available at all times, day and night, because God and His kingdom are always available to us. I’m ready to get off the roller coaster of happiness; I want my heart grounded in the higher place of joy. I bet you do, too.

Who among us does not want more joy in our lives? In our work? In our marriages? In our relationships? With our children? In our quiet moments alone? If joy is a fruit of the Spirit, (and it is), then we are meant to experience it and enjoy it, regardless of our circumstances.

Whatever may be swirling around us, the eye of the storm is joy. But how do we get there? The simple answer is, we need to come to know God more deeply.  When we do, we can believe and rest in His faithful, immovable, immeasurable love for us in every moment we are in.

Joy is the heartbeat of heaven, the very light that emanates from Jesus’ heart, so as we grow closer in relationship with God, we’ll also grow in joy. We’ll see that He is not spending His moments wringing His hands, as we are sometimes prone to do. He is not braced against the future or overcome by serious hardship. His joy is never up for grabs. Rather, His joy is immovable, just as He is. It is an essential part of His very person. Meister Eckhart wrote:

“Do you want to know what goes on in the heart of the Trinity?

I will tell you.

In the heart of the Trinity the Father laughs and gives birth to the Son.

The Son laughs back at the Father and gives birth to the Spirit.

The whole Trinity laughs and gives birth to us.”

We are born from the laughter of the Trinity. What an amazing thought. As image bearers of the Living God, surely joy is written deep in our very hearts.  So it should come naturally, right?

But I am not a naturally joyful person. My battle has not been one of needing to be pulled back into reality because of my Pollyanna worldview. My battle has been with depression. I know what it feels like to spend your days walking through sludge up to your knees with a heavy cloak upon your back. But I also know the incredible feeling of having it replaced with a sense of hope and promise leading to a deep, untouchable joy. I’m learning. I do want to get off the emotional rollercoaster of circumstantial happiness. I do want to be rooted and grounded in joy.

That’s what I’m after. That’s what I believe God is calling us to. That is what I am calling us to as well. I hope you read this new book, because I really do believe it’s going to open up wonderful new experiences of joy for you!

Offered in love,

Stasi

Download the RH September 2018 newsletter here. 

Holding On While Letting Go

“She grabs life with both hands.” Isn’t that a good thing? Doesn’t it mean she lives with passion? She is fully IN. She wants to be fully present and drink deeply from the draught of life. She dives in to experiences and people with abandon. She does not hold herself back.

Wow. That’s sounds really appealing—so why am I exhausted just writing it? Thing is, though I want to live with passion, I can’t be fully present 100 percent of the time. It’s too much for this soul to take. I need to retreat. Pull in. Tune out.  

Life is loud, and my heart needs quiet.

I’ve dived in with abandon in the past and slammed into the unseen, rocky bottom. I am aware that I am more cautious now. It is my toe that dips in the water first. I want to know how deep, exactly, is the water before I go. Some of my discretion is wisdom born of suffering. Some of my holding back is fear born of suffering.

Come, Jesus.

“But we are those who do not shrink back.” I don’t want to be a woman who shrinks back from anything or anyone God calls me to. If He says “Dive,” I don’t want to hesitate. But sometimes, like cliff jumping into the water 30 feet below, it takes a bit of encouragement to my soul to buoy my faith and resolve. If Jesus calls me to do something, then He will equip me to do it. Leap!

He doesn’t promise that I won’t get hurt in the jump. He promises that He won’t abandon me in the free fall or in the landing. He calls me to LIVE. To live in Him. To live fully. To press in. To pursue Him and to pursue people. He cautions, “Don’t shrink back. Don’t sit on the sidelines. Don’t let your soul take up residence in a cul-de-sac.”

He promises that He is my Life. He is my safe place. He says, “Take hold of Me with both hands.”

That I can do. That I will do. Because I trust His good heart. And if I get bruises in the process of following, I can know that He will use even those for the honing of my heart to become more like His.

His heart holds on to His Father’s in a Union He prays for us to know. I desire to know it. To live it. To love from it.

He invites me to love. He fuels my passion for life by the fire in my heart that He lights Himself. He asks me to let go of my fear. He calls me to let go of holding back.

He tells me to release my demand for a pain-free life for myself and all those He loves. 

Turns out, pain is not the enemy I thought it was.

A cold heart is. Hands that cling to this false idea that a good life requires a vigilance of self-protection rather than a vigilance of nourishing my resolve of faith. God knows what my soul needs. Yes, I need quiet sometimes. I can more easily find Him there. But He is also to be found in the hustle and bustle that our lives sometime require. In all of it, He will not be held back. He has leaped from the highest of Homes to dive after you and me.

He has committed to grabbing on to us with both nail-scarred hands. And He is holding on. He will not let go.

https://youtu.be/okmxFDMYuEQ

St. Patrick's Breastplate

I want to share something that God is reminding me of this morning with the hope that it brings encouragement to you.  Are you familiar with St. Patrick’s Breastplate?  It’s a powerful prayer that begins in this way:

I arise today 


Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,


Through belief in the Threeness,


Through confession of the Oneness of the Creator of creation.

“I arise today through a mighty strength.” Oh, wouldn’t that be nice to say every morning? I want that to be true, but the thoughts that frequently take our hearts captive upon arising include: It’s going to be a bad day. I don’t want to get up. You are a failure as a mother, father, friend. You do not love well. You are alone. You are selfish. This is all too hard. And repeat.

Do you know what yours are? This morning, the accuser was battering my heart with “Failure. Failure. Failure.” The crushing weight of shame was reinforced by memories (cruelly twisted but seemingly real interpretations) of my failing, evidence parading across my mind that I was not being a good friend, wife, or mother.

But the prayer continues:

I arise today


Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,


Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,


Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,


Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

Wow. Well, okay then. We don’t arise through our strength to figure it out or to change or to become an amazing person who loves everyone at all times perfectly. We arise today and every day by turning our gaze onto Jesus and what He has accomplished for us—because we needed Him to accomplish it. 

While still feeling the weight of failure, I began to ask Jesus for the truth and to tell it to myself: I am not a perfect friend, but I am a good one. I fail as a wife and mother, but I am not a failure. I took my gaze off of my performance and turned it onto the King and His character: His faithfulness. His goodness. His mercy. His strength.

I arise today, 

through
God's strength to pilot me,


God's might to uphold me,


God's wisdom to guide me,


God's eye to look before me,


God's ear to hear me,


God's word to speak for me,


God's hand to guard me,


God's shield to protect me,


God's host to save me


From snares of devils,

From temptation of vices,


From everyone who shall wish me ill,


afar and near.

Christ with me,

Christ before me,


Christ behind me,

Christ in me,


Christ beneath me,


Christ above me,


Christ on my right,


Christ on my left,


Christ when I lie down,


Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,


Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,


Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in every eye that sees me,


Christ in every ear that hears me. 

(Find the complete prayer at http://www.ransomedheart.com/prayer/st-patrick’s-breastplate)

This morning, like so many days in my clay-footed life, I need mercy. My Father offers it to me. Jesus has won it for me. The Holy Spirit beckons me to receive it. I have blown it. But the blowing now has become the wind of the Holy Spirit. His breath shepherds my heart into my Father’s, and there mercy triumphs over judgment. I may stay in bed a bit longer, but now it is not out of despair. Now I cozily snuggle into His forgiveness, His love, His heartbeat of hope. We can have hope no matter if we wake to accusation or to celebration, because our God is with us. And for that I am defiantly joyful.

With much hope and joy,

Stasi

Download the Ransomed Heart August 2018 Newsletter here. 

 

My Girl

They named her after me. Her middle name is in my honor. But I won’t get to hold my precious granddaughter until I meet her in the Life that is coming.

And the tears begin to flow again as I write.

My daughter in law was four and a half months pregnant when we got the call that she had begun to bleed heavily.  John and I were out of town.  Breathless, waiting for the result of the ultrasound, the only news we received was a text from our son asking, “Would you come home for us?”

So, of course we knew. We knew and we wept for them and we wept for ourselves and we wept for the little girl we were going to have to wait to know.

It is a holy and sacred place, the place of grief, the land of loss, the ache that seems to penetrate to the core of the earth let alone the deepest realms of the heart.

Most people are not alive for long before knowing this pain.  I felt it first when I was 23 at the death of my father.  The older I get, the more goodbyes I have had to say.  But this one, this one I never got to say “hello” to.

And in this place of sorrow, I am met with the knowledge that the “hello” is coming.  I will get to know my girl very, very well.  I can imagine her now in the Kingdom, alive and well with long flowing blond hair like her mother’s, her smile as wide as her dad’s.  She is tall and she is happy and she is one more reason that I am able to look forward to the day that IS COMING.

“We grieve.  But we do not grieve as those who have no hope.”

So many of you have known this loss.  Mercy to you, dear ones.  Miscarriage is not an uncommon thing but being uncommon does not diminish the pain.  It is real.  It is worth our tears.  Tears are the balm of the Holy Spirit – sacred to our Father – cleansing the deepest recesses and allowing the Comforter to come.  Healing is available.

Some children are conceived and handed directly into the hands of our Jesus – carried in this world for such a little time.  But a real time.  A time that matters.  A time that reaches its fulfillment in eternity.

We will lay in the ground our little one.  But one day soon, one day so very soon, we will rise.  We will rise and we will embrace.

My Weakness

We went on a family vacation last month and I sat and watched as my family walked around a lake. I’d been there a few years before and had run around it, not satisfied by mere walking, my energy exploded out of my feet.  Now it was my victory to make it to the bench.

I woke this morning to hearing this in my heart, “My strength is perfected in weakness.”  1 Cor 12:9

I’m familiar with the verse. I know it.  I’m not sure I know all that it means.

What was Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” I wonder?  And it wasgiven to him so that he would not become conceited?!  So his life would not be about how amazing he is but how glorious God is. It kept him humble, dependent and honest.

I thought being strong was the greater good.  And not merely physically strong, but more importantly, spiritually strong – “Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of HIS might.”  Oh, there it is again.  His might. We are to be strong in the Lord but not in our own capacity.  We depend on His strength.  We yield to Him. We ask for and surrender to and enjoy His strength, His very Life flowing through us.

Yes, we are to stand firm. Hold fast.  Be strong and unwavering.  We need to be.  We are called to be.  And to look to Him to do it in us and through us because when we think we can do it by ourselves or are doingit by ourselves – we get lost and prideful and the hero of our story is now written in the lower case.

But we are not the heroes of our own story.

Jesus is the Hero.

And boy do I needa Hero.

I have One.

So do you.

I’ve seen weakness displayed in others in a variety of ways that led my heart not to feel sorry for their weakness but to exalt in the God we both love.  

My family has spent time in the dwelling place of a family who live on a dump in Guatemala.  We have spent time with another family who live on a gorgeous ranch in the West.  Both families love Jesus.  

Guess whose testimony about the glory, the goodness, the faithfulness and the beauty of Jesus held more power shaking me to my core?  I close my eyes now and I can still see their dark Guatemalan eyes shining with a Spirit filled light.

My strength is perfected in weakness.

I have spent time by the bedside of loved ones struggling for breath as their life was ebbing out of them, death just days away.  I have spent time previously sitting with those same loved ones on front porches when they were strong and breathing deeply.

In each of those times we talked about the Presence and provision and hope of Jesus.  We shared stories of His character and kindness and power.  The early conversations prepared us for the latter but it was those latter conversations that were the stuff of legends.  It was the fixed gaze of the Beloved on the Presence of God in the pain that was gold.  Rubies. Priceless treasure.

Angels were as breathless as I.

My strength is perfected in weakness.

I stopped using a cane a while back and it’s time for me to pick it up again.  Pride coupled with some warped embarrassment has kept me from using one for too long.  Why do we despise our weakness?  Why is it so unnatural to treat ourselves with kindness and mercy when our loving Father treats us with nothing else?

Because there is a story there, of course.  Our lives are an unfolding story and the prologue for each of us is wrought with hidden moments that damaged our hearts.  We must let the Light in.

Needing Jesus, needing His healing, needing His strength, His mercy, His help, His comfort, His wisdom, His perspective, His LIFE is not weakness.  It is a gift.  It is an honor.

I walk with a limp now and many days I walk with a deeper limp that others cannot see though it is just as real.  I need my Jesus.  I am leaning on my beloved.  I am not embarrassed to do so.  The truth is, He loves it as much as I do.  

I am not the strong woman I wanted to be.  But I am becoming the strong woman He wants me to be.  A woman who is weak on her own but who is not on her own.  She is tapped into the very heart of the God of all creation who is strong on her behalf.  He is love.  Love stronger than the grave.  Love fiercer than death.  Love that triumphs over evil.  Love that prevails.  Love that is kind and full of both mercy and power.

He is my strength.

So let me be weak. And please God, let His strength be perfected in my weakness.

Weight. No, Wait.

I am going to my niece’s wedding September 1st, and I have no idea what I’m going to wear. I don’t own anything that is pretty, wedding-ish, and FITS. “Fits” being the operative word. Plus it’s going to be roaring hot and I’ve been instructed to wear cotton.

I’ve ordered a few free-returnable things online, so we’ll see how it goes, but at my current state, or weight, when looking at myself in the mirror, seeing pretty or even “good enough” is an iffy proposition.

My plans and programs and schemes and desires and efforts to lose weight have failed. I’m stuck. I’ve lost weight before, but I know this place only too well. I was talking to Jesus about this the other night. Again. Talking may not be the right word. Tears were involved. Not just about the wedding, obviously, but about the weight, when He said, “Wait.” As in, “Stop.  Ask Me what I have to say.”

I opened up the Bible App on my phone, desperate to hear from Him, and this is the verse that was for the day:

Matthew 6:25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?” 

And Boom.

Is not life more than food and the body more than clothes?

Okay. I knew He was speaking. I was so thankful that He’d been listening to me on this thorn-in-my-flesh subject yet again, but what did He mean by this?

Here’s where His Word landed in my heart: I get obsessed and preoccupied with my appearance and my failure to get my act under control. My weight begins to define me in my own heart. If I loved God more. If I was more obedient. If I ______ then I would be worthy of love and, in my darkest of moments, worthy of life. My body, He says, is important. He cares for our bodies. He thinks so much of them that He took one on Himself. He wants me and all of us to care for them. Nourish them. Move them.

But our bodies do not define us.

They are a gift to us in whatever state they are currently in, and He wants us—He wants me—to be grateful for it, to bless it, to care for it, and then to MOVE ON.

He doesn't want me obsessing about food. Being thoughtful and mindful, yes. But obsessing, no.

He’s going to put something on me for the wedding that will be just fine, and the only one thinking about how I look—is me. He wants me to stop panicking about it. To trust Him. To put things in their rightful order of importance.

The struggle with body image and for me—with food, as a currently very overweight woman—is a real and painful one. One worthy of speaking to and addressing and dismantling the world’s power in and the enemy’s condemnation over. It is one that requires the attention of Jesus and His healing presence.

But all I want to say today is that God cares. And though the size of my clothes matters to us both, they do not define me. What I eat matters much less than how much I love.

He loves me. He loves you, too. And He wants to be the center of my attention. The obsession of my heart. The love of my life. The One I dream about and look forward to and trust in and in whose heart I find my identity.

And that is a woman who is cherished and chosen and loved with a Plus-Sized LOVE.

Weight. No, Wait.

I am going to my niece’s wedding September 1stand I have no idea what I’m going to wear. I don’t own anything that is pretty, wedding-ish, and FITS.  “Fits” being the operative word.  Plus it’s going to be roaring hot and I’ve been instructed to wear cotton.

I’ve ordered a few free-returnable things online so we’ll see how it goes but at my current state, or weight, when looking at myself in the mirror, seeing pretty or even “good enough” is an iffy proposition.

My plans and programs and schemes and desires and efforts to lose weight have failed.  I’m stuck.  I’ve lost weight before but I know this place only too well.  I was talking to Jesus about this the other night.  Again.  Talking may not be the right word.  Tears were involved.  Not just about the wedding obviously, but about the weight, when He said, “Wait.”  As in “Stop.  Ask Me what I have to say.”

I opened up the Bible App on my phone desperate to hear from Him and this is the verse that was for the day:

Matthew 6:25  “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?” 

And Boom.

Is not life more than food and the body more than clothes?

OK.  I knew He was speaking.  I was so thankful that He’d been listening to me on this thorn in my flesh subject yet again but what did He mean by this?

Here’s where His Word landed in my heart.  I get obsessed and preoccupied with my appearance and my failure to get my act under control.  My weight begins to define me in my own heart.  If I loved God more.  If I was more obedient.  If I ______ then I would be worthy of love and in my darkest of moments, worthy of life. My body, He says, is important. He cares for our bodies.  He thinks so much of them that He took one on Himself.  He wants me and all of us to care for them.  Nourish them.  Move them.

But our bodies do not define us.

They are a gift to us in whatever state they are currently in and He wants us – He wants me - to be grateful for it, to bless it, to care for it and then to MOVE ON.

He doesn’t want me obsessing about food.  Being thoughtful and mindful, yes.  But obsessing, no.

He’s going to put something on me for the wedding that will be just fine and the only one thinking about how I look – is me.  He wants me to stop panicking about it.  To trust Him. To put things in their rightful order of importance.

The struggle with body image and for me – with food – as a currently very overweight woman – is a real and painful one.  One worthy of speaking to and addressing and dismantling the world’s power in and the enemy’s condemnation over.  It is one that requires the attention of Jesus and His healing presence.

But all I want to say today is that God cares.  And though the size of my clothes matters to us both, they do not define me.  What I eat matters much less than how much I love.

He loves me. He loves you, too.  And He wants to be the center of my attention.  The obsession of my heart.  The love of my life.  The One I dream about and look forward to and trust in and in whose heart I find my identity.

And that is a woman who is cherished and chosen and loved with a Plus Sized LOVE.

The Anchor

Are you a person who when “things” aren’t going well look for someone to blame and that person is someone ELSE? Or are you one who thinks that it must be YOU who is doing something wrong bringing it upon yourself – though you have no clue as to what it is you are doing wrong?

So many things can be going wrong.

Maybe it’s many sleepless nights in a row.

Maybe it’s another friend who isn’t available.

Maybe it’s a compulsion to act in a way privately that brings harm to yourself.

“If only they hadn’t…” “If only I hadn’t...” “If only God had…”

Recently a heartbreaking sorrow came to one I love and I became aware that I really wanted to blame someone. I knew of one who was a possibility. I began to imagine this person being in my home and the pleasure I would get if they began to speak cruelly – to kick them out of my house. “You are no longer welcome here. You need to leave. Let’s speak privately in the future. Yes, I’m serious.” I say as I open the door.

Huh. (I realized this was wrong and began to pray for this person, blessing them. Breaking soul ties. Releasing them to God. Then I gave my heart to God asking him to come for everyone.)

I’m a person who usually blames myself. I know my weakness. I’m acquainted with my failures. I must be doing something wrong. Sheesh. Many things wrong.

I so often forget all the players on the stage of life. I forget the fallen world we live in - the nature of a world gone mad. I forget the fallen nature of human beings that leads them to do harm with thoughtful intent and sometimes, with no thought at all.

I forget that there is an evil one with his minions bent on destruction – lying, killing, destroying – whispering hatred, inserting false interpretations – all designed to separate us from the One who is Love busy about his damning work. (Now him, I can and do and am called to “kick out of my house.” He needs to leave and no, we will not be speaking privately in the future.)

I too easily forget God – the Anchor of my soul – bent on my restoration. Whispering my name. Calling me HIS. Encouraging me to stand my ground in the uncontested place I hold in His heart and to fight the good fight of faith. He urges me, beckons me, calls me to be unwavering in my belief that He is for me. “I am my Beloved’s and He is mine.” He is for me? Yes, He is for me.

And He is for you.

In the watches of the night, in the aftermath of sin, in the bearing of the consequences of failure, He has not and will not turn His face away. He is the Anchor of my soul and of my life. I am not the Anchor. I am too often tossed upon the sea of shifting circumstances. But He is steady, immovable and I am attached to Him. He holds me and He will not let go.

NOTHING and NO ONE and NO CIRCUMSTANCE can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus. No height, no depth, no angel or demon or thing from my past or from my present or in my future can separate me. No failure on my part or harm caused by another. No confusion, no wavering, no wandering can detach me from His constant, faithful immeasurable love.

And neither can anything detach Him from you. From YOU dear one.

We can look around and we can blame or we can look to God and invite Him in to our heart’s struggle. He is the One who calms the storms of our lives. He is the One who never sleeps. He is the One who instructs and guides and gives wisdom. He is the One who comforts.

He is the One who never changes.

He is our Peace.

It’s too easy to focus our attention on seeking blame, on feeling like a blow it, on nursing a way to fight for someone else or ourselves in ways that are outside the way of Love.

God calls us to focus our attention on Him. His character. His goodness. His never changing delight over us.

Yes, He delights over us.

Big deep sigh.

He is our Anchor. We are tethered to Him.

Oh rejoice my soul. Rejoice. Because I am His. Forever. And so are you.

And wonder upon wonders, joy upon joys, we can blame Him for that.