Showing posts with label heart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heart. Show all posts

Sunday, September 23

Take the Bread with You, Even If It's Just the Crumbs!




You’re excited, filled with praise and thanksgiving. Why? Because God miraculously answered your prayer for some sudden situation. He remedied it, fixing your emergency. And now, you feel full and satisfied, just like the disciples.

A great crowd gathers in a fishing village on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Thousands of people cover the grassy valley. Moved with great compassion for them, Jesus heals the sick and teaches them about the kingdom of God.

The day is about to shut its door; the sun begins its descent. The people are hungry. How are the disciples to feed all these people? Something needs to be done.

With the meager offering of five loaves and two fishes of a young boy, the Lord takes it and provides an answer by multiplying it. The disciples witness the miraculous feeding of a multitude.

They all eat and are satisfied.

Not wanting anything to go to waste, Jesus tells the disciples to gather up the fragments. They fill twelve baskets with leftovers.

Immediately, Jesus sends the disciples out in a boat while He sends the people away and He goes up the hill to pray.

But wait! What’s that appearing just over the hill? A storm is churning and it’s headed your way. You’re stuck out in the middle of roiling waters in a little dingy. Your life-boat begins to rock as the waves of circumstance crash over you. Your heart is overwhelmed, just like the disciples.

As the sun slips down into its western bed for the night, it leaves a trail of shimmering gold across the sea. The disciples row for several hours in the dark.

Springing out from behind the hills is one of those quick and brutal storms that develop at the snap of the fingers on the Sea of Galilee.

From His place on the hill, Jesus sees the men at sea. Shards of lightning flash against the black of night, silhouetting the disciple crew as they fight to row the canting vessel against the surging waves and hostile wind.

In the light of one lightning shaft, another silhouette appears. The men scream in terror, supposing they see the ghost of a dead one spewed up by the sea.

“It is I! Don’t be afraid!” calls Jesus across the growl of the squall, climbing into the boat with them as the storm calms.

In your storm, do you cry out to God in terror? Do you quickly forget what God has done for you in the past and you harden your heart as the disciples did?

The disciples fail to understand the meaning of the miracle of the loaves. Lacking insight into its significance hardens their hearts that Jesus has the power to do whatever they need.

With the smell of the fish still clinging to their fingertips and the bread crumbs still resting in the folds of their garments, they do not remember how those things got there. The bread merely filled their stomachs.

Even though they take the baskets of leftover bread with them into the boat, they do not take the Bread of Life with them into their hearts.

The next time a storm blows into your life, don’t let your heart harden.

*Remember to welcome Him into your boat of circumstance; He will bring the calm.
*Remember the miracle of The Bread of Life was broken and multiplied to overflow in leftovers just for you.
*Remember the aroma on your fingertips for your last answer to prayer.
*Remember to take the Bread with you to rest in the folds of your heart.

 “Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you;
do this in remembrance of Me.”
1 Cor. 11:24 NKJV


Sundays...                                                      
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Mondays...
On In Around button

Tuesdays...
 






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Wednesday, September 5

At the End of the Driveway




As soon as hubby drove out the driveway, I started my daily housewifely duties: picking up his socks and turning them right side out, turning off the lights he left on, closing the doors and cabinet doors he left open, putting his dishes in the sink, and whatever else I could find that he had done or left undone.

And then, it started:

Why does he leave his socks all balled up? Why can’t he turn off the lights? Why can’t he close the cabinet doors? Why can’t he put his glass in the sink? Why can’t he...

On and on, I mumbled, all in my heart and under my breath. I grumbled while I washed the clothes. I complained while I did the dishes. I murmured while I vacuumed. This negative attitude seeped into other areas of my thinking. Its tentacles grabbed my thoughts and slowly began to suck the life out of me.

I noticed negativity taking a foothold. I started to frown more often. My heart became two sizes too small, just like the Grinch’s heart.

I mumbled to myself that...

...my children wouldn’t clean up their rooms or make the right choices.
...my server brought my salad after my entrée, didn’t fill my water glass, brought me someone else’s meal, or ignored me altogether.
...the person in the car in front of me drove too slowly in the fast lane.
...the nosy neighbor across the street was always watching to see what we were doing and why couldn’t she mind her own business.

Oh, the endless list! I stumbled over all the negative pebbles I flung in my own path.

All this happened many years ago until it finally dawned on me: What is my grumbling and complaining doing to me? What is it doing to my marriage? How is it affecting others? I knew that if I did not change the thoughts in my mind and heart, my negative attitude would spill out as poison on my husband, the kids, and everyone else, if it hadn’t already.

The Bible says, “For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.” (Matt. 12:34b NIV) What would be the outcome if I continued? I certainly did not want negative criticisms to roll off the end of my tongue.

The Canadian preacher A. B. Simpson once said of the apostle Paul, “Paul did not carry a cemetery with him, but a chorus of victorious praise; and the harder the trial, the more he trusted and rejoiced, shouting from the very altar of sacrifice.”

So, I learned to give that sacrifice of gratitude, sometimes even through gritted teeth.

I learned that thankfulness and praise are the best replacements for any complaints, turning each negative into a positive. For instance, if my husband does something that irritates me, I replace it with a positive, like having a husband who loves the Lord, or having one who isn’t an alcoholic, who doesn’t fool around, who isn’t an addict, or whatever. And I do the same for anything else.

I found that, if I am constantly negative and boo-hoo my circumstances more than being thankful and positive, I magnify my circumstances above everything else. And if I am not careful, I will be just like the Israelites thousands of years ago, as they wandered in the wilderness for forty years, whining and complaining, which resulted in dire consequences.

What is my response today?

Now, when my day is darkened with a multitude of problems that cause my gratitude to stick in my throat, I strive to remain positive anyway. When my eyes spill over with the tears of heartache, I attempt to find a way to be grateful.

I do my best to focus my thoughts on what is “true and good and right. Think about things that are pure and lovely, and dwell on the fine, good things in others.” (Philippians 4:8 The Living Bible)

When faced with circumstances beyond my control, I try not to respond with feelings but try to purposely choose to be positive, thus invalidating the negative.

I do not want my gravestone to read: Died from too much whine!

Now, as I watch my hubby leave the end of the driveway, nothing fills my heart but gratitude!

           
***I originally wrote this for Chicken for the Soul’s upcoming book The Power of Positive. It never made it {sniff-sniff} so I’m using it for this month’s Christian Writers’ blog chain topic of change. Please visit the other participants are in the right sidebar.

Life: Unmasked
holy
experience
katherines
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Reflections of His Grace

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Friday, July 6

Heart's Need



Today, it was necessary to reach in the archive grab-bag and pull out an oldie. Hope that's okay...
 
One day in my quiet time, I read the following in one of my devotionals…

“Never a heart’s need that I could not comfort and soothe.”

I said, “Lord, if this is true, then why do I sometimes feel as though You are not there?”

He answered, “My dear one, I have been here all along, through it all. I’ve been here by your side, though unnoticed. I've been here, holding your hand, though not felt.

“I’ve been here, hovering over you like a mama bird over her chicks, even though the rush of My wings went undetected. I’ve been here in the blackest hours, shining My light, though its radiance went unseen because hurt and pain had shut your eyes.

“I’ve been here, through the floods of adversity, rowing your boat for you through all those uncharted waters.

“I am the Navigator. I know where we are going. It is your job to sit still before Me and trust that I know best. Don’t rock the boat by telling Me where you want to go. Just let Me take you to the place best suited for you.

“Ride quietly and trust Me and we will reach our destination much more quickly. Don’t be a hindrance to the One who knows the way. I will not steer you wrong nor will I allow the waves to overtake you. Just trust Me, because I love you.”

“Then they cry to the Lord in their trouble, and He brings them out of their distresses. He hushes the storm to a calm and to a gentle whisper, so that the waves of the sea are still. Then the men are glad because of the calm, and He brings them to their desired haven.” (Psalm 107:28-30 AMP)

~In your difficult circumstances, may the Lord bring you out and steer you to that safe haven.

                                                                         
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Tuesday, June 19

Old Familiar Friend




Trying to emerge from a place within,
it bubbles up, desiring to begin.
It fills my soul and leaps into my heart,
bouncing around for a way to depart.

It creeps up my throat and onto my tongue.
It darts out as a song to be sung.
It pokes at my ego, my hands to raise.
Then I recognize my old friend Praise.

He always comes knocking when I’m distressed,
seeking to guide me on a Godly quest.
As his exultations begin to grow,
I give him permission his words to flow.

When I hear his sounds familiar and sweet,
I know they rise up my Savior to greet.
When his handiwork at last comes to rest,
I know once again I’m sure to be blessed.

~ Happy praising!

                                                                         
Today, I am hooking up with...




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Saturday, June 16

Blue and White Shards of Promise




My father loved digging...of all sorts. Digging into the soil to plant things. I wrote about his love of the soil and being able to make anything grow in his special soil in a post entitled Coaxed Back to Life.

He also loved digging into the soil to discover hidden treasures of what former generations had left behind.

But his favorite type of digging was plunging into the soil of God’s Word to find hidden treasures, those things the ancient generations left for future generations to find.

He and my grandfather bought a large farm in the late ’40s and, along with my hubby, began developing it into a community of homes, businesses, and churches in the late ’60s. As the houses were built, Dad found many artifacts.

When he and mother decided to rebuild one of the historic homesites on the property, Dad had the students of the archaeology department of the local university to help dig. They found all sorts of shards. Shards of old pottery, bits of colored glass, old marbles, keys.  As shards of hearts once living there.

What he and the diggers uncovered would have filled a small museum. A lot of it has been given to and preserved by the current owner of the home for a small exhibit in the home.

Among Dad’s finds was a large amount of pottery shards in blue and white. Which just happened to be my mother’s favorite colors. She was the blue and white queen!

When my mom died a few years ago, one of my sisters and I had to decide what to do with all of mother’s things, which included things belonging to my dad who had died twelve years before.

I have a box of some of the blue and white pottery shards. For some reason, the box went undiscovered in our garage. I found it a couple of weeks ago and have been trying to decide what to do with the shards. I’ve seen tables, flower pots, picture frames, mirrors, and other items tiled with pottery shards.

I think I’ll do one or all of these things: 1) take one or two of the larger shards and make them into hearts for necklaces, keeping my dad close to my heart, 2) cover a frame for his picture, and/or 3) cover a flower pot or two, since he loved to grow things.

I think the flower pot is my favorite: taking shards of one lovely pieces and remaking them into something useful again, filling them with special soil for seeds of beauty to grow.

In one of Jesus’ parables, He compared the kingdom to a farmer sowing seeds, as some fell along the wayside but the birds ate it; some fell on rocky and shallow soil but, with not roots, lasted until adversity came; other seed fell among thorns where cares and riches choked them out; while “some fell on good soil and produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as he had planted. If you have ears, listen!” (Matt. 13:8-9 TLB)

When the disciples asked Him the meaning of the parable, He said of the good soil, “The good ground represents the heart of a man who listens to the message and understands it and goes out and brings thirty, sixty, or even a hundred others into the Kingdom.” (Matt. 13:23 TLB)

Our heavenly Father can grow anything in the special soil of tender hearts that allow Him to plant His seeds. I want the shards of my heart to be made into something beautiful, to fill it with that special soil and receive those seeds of the Father’s Word and flourish with a harvestful of produce.

Today, because of the seed-sowing of my heritage, I am able to stand on God’s promise (below) and hook up with Duane Scott’s blog hop on God’s promises (Mondays).

Promise: “Teach children how they should live, and they will remember it all their life.” (Prov. 22:6 GNT)

Thank you, Daddy! And thank You, Father!

              
Scribing the Journey with Duane Scott...                                                          



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Wednesday, May 30

What's in Your Alabaster Box?



  
I have an old shoe box. Packed away somewhere. Filled with precious things. Love letters from my pre-wedding hubby. Old mementos. Probably a pressed flower or two. And other things I don’t even remember. I haven’t seen its contents in years.

Do you have a box like that? Is it filled with precious keepsakes like secrets, baby shoes, love letters, awards?

We keep tokens like this because we value them, maybe not so much for worldly value but for heartly value.

We have all read or heard many times of the story of a box (or jar) made of a highly esteemed stone, containing a prized ointment of great monetary value.

Passover was near. Jesus was in Bethany, having dinner, and “there came unto Him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on His head as He sat at meat.” (Matt. 26:7 KJ21)

Such a touching and devoted gesture. An alabaster passion box, full of an extremely valuable, perfumed oil of spikenard poured out on the One she loved the most.

In regard to this, I wrote in a past post, Sweet Smell of Sacrifice http://bit.ly/f9B2kH ...

She lovingly poured it upon Jesus’ head, and it likely trickled down His cheeks, seeped into His beard, and gently dripped upon His shoulders, saturating His garment...

Don’t you know that through the long hours of His agony in the garden, during His betrayal, in the courtyard of His judgment before Caiaphas and Pilate, and until that garment was removed, Jesus must have breathed in that sweet smell of sacrificial love poured out upon Him, while this scripture likely echoed in His Spirit, “The odor of your ointments is fragrant, your name is like perfume poured out.” (SOS 1:3 Amp)

As He probably did not wash His hair, the fragrance clung to it. That sweet aroma must have wafted its fragrance of love into His nostrils throughout His torment at the whipping post and while hanging on the cross, more than likely thinking, “This is for all those who will pour out their love on Me.”

But when she poured her fragrance of passion upon her Beloved Lord, some of the disciples became indignant and asked, “Why was this wasted?” (Matt. 26:8 NLV)

What would happen if we considered our heart as our alabaster box?

What precious things fill your heart? Special memories of love? Treasured moments with friends or loved ones? Encouraging words said to you? Cherished times spent with the Lord?

Or maybe it is filled with bitter memories of anger, abuse, addiction, or unforgiveness.

When you meet with your Beloved, to dine in His presence, to sit at His feet and tell Him you love Him, what passion fragrance do you pour out on Him?

Do you pour out the stench of whining, complaining, or bitterness? As the disciples said, “What a waste!”

Or do you pour out that overflow of sweet-smelling love, gratitude, and thanksgiving? Does your Beloved Lord receive it as He did the loving gift of spikenard?

“Our lives are a Christ-like fragrance rising up to God.”
(2 Cor. 2:15 NLT)

~Lord, may the contents of our alabaster hearts and lives be poured out as a pleasing aroma in Your presence.

                                                                         
Hooking up with...





Imperfect Prose



 
 
 Beholding Glory/Faith Filled Friday
 






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Sunday, May 13

Coaxed Back to Life



Spring always makes me think of my dad. I was thinking about him the other day. Nostalgia set in. Thinking how he would have thoroughly enjoyed his three great-granddaughters. My heart ached that they never got to know him.

I thought how much fun they would have had in his greenhouse. Dad had a green thumb, as they say. Well, no, not really. He had green fingers! All of them! Anything he planted always grew.

He could stick any wilting flower, dying plant, or practically dead twig he picked up off the ground into his special blend, water it, fertilize it, put it in the right spot of the greenhouse for the perfect warmth and healing power of the sun, and otherwise coax it back to a healthy, strong, and flourishing condition.

The secret of his special concoction for nurturing dying plants back to life died with him. I never found out what it was. He left this earth sooner than any of us thought.

I miss my dad. I miss his hugs. I miss seeing him in his jeans and nourishing his fledgling plants.

As I reminisced, I thought about how he and my mom nurtured me as their daughter. I was just like one of Dad’s plants: I was placed into the special blend of people as my family watered me, feed me, protected me, supported me, encouraged me, brought me up in church and to know the Lord, planting the seeds of Christian values with me, and nourished me in every way they knew how, placing me in the right spot for the Son to coax me to a healthy, strong, and flourishing condition.

They believed in “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” (Prov. 22:6 NKJV) I love the way some other versions state it:

* “Teach a child to choose the right path...” The Living Bible
* “Direct your children onto the right path...” New Living Translation
* “Start children off on the way they should go...” The new New International Version
* “Bring up a child by teaching him the way he should go...” New Living Version
* “Teach children how they should live, and they will remember it all their life.” Good News Translation

They taught; I remembered.

And when circumstances hover over me as a black shroud and I feel them sap my strength, leaving me like the wilted flower or the stick lying on the ground, giving up, my heavenly Father comes along, picks me up, and sticks me in His special blend of love, encouragement, and peace, nurturing this fledgling back to health and strength.

The Lord is our Husbandman, the One who knows His soil and purposes to have a harvest. When circumstances hover over you, beating you down, allow Him to do His nurturing in your life, coaxing you back to a healthy, strong, and flourishing condition.

“You have allowed me to suffer much hardship,
but You will restore me to life again.” 
(Ps. 71:20 NLT)


Today, I’m hooking up with the blog chain for Christianwriters.com. For other great posts on the topic of nurture, please find the list in the right sidebar.
                                                                       
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Wednesday, March 28

A Mother’s Heart...An Intimate Moment with Mary


She stands at a distance. The sight before her pierces her heart as if thrust in by a javelin.

Her puffy eyes sting with tears, blurring her vision.

Deep sobs heave her chest as her heart pounds in agony.

The crowd jostles her, oblivious to her obvious pain, a pain so deep that no mother on earth will ever feel again.

What brings her to this gruesome sight? A mother’s love...


My son, she cries. Her name is Mary and her son is being crucified. Naked, exposed. Blood trickles down His face from the open wounds in His head when soldiers twisted a crown of thorns upon Him and out of every flesh-exposing lash He received earlier.

Each clang of the soldier’s hammer upon the metal spikes driven into her son’s body jars her whole being. She shakes with empathetic pain as they raise Him up and hang Him in place on the upright beam.

Memories rush through her mind of the child she once carried, of the One Who sat upon her lap and nestled against her. But another memory crowds those out; one she tried to lock away in a secret corner of her heart. Those prophetic words spoken to her after His birth, which now come back to haunt her, “And a sword will pierce your own soul, too.” (Luke 2:35 NIV)

And that moment finally arrived.

Now, greedy soldiers toss out dice to see who gets the bragging rights of owning the traditional garment she lovingly created for her son when he left home. The garment saturated with the perfumed oil of spikenard from the broken alabaster passion box.

She is exhausted from all that has happened to her precious Baby Jesus, the Son of God. Her body reacts to the dreadful stress causing her knees to buckle. But John, the disciple who had leaned upon this Divine Man so many times, stands close to Mary and shores her up.

Seeing His mother beside John, Jesus speaks in a weak whisper to her, “Dear woman, here is your son,” (John 19:26b NLT) as He nods to John. And to John, He says, “Here is your mother.” (John 19:27a NLT)

Moments later, all is over. It is finished, He sighs and gives up His last breath.

Mary wonders: what will it be like without Him, never again to embrace Him, to hear His infectious laugh, to see His ready smile?

Oh, what agony must have filled Mary’s mother-heart that day, probably never realizing the impact of that scene for the thousands of generations yet to come.

A mother’s heart...of love...broken. The greatest pain a mother will ever know, losing her child.

And the rest of the story?

Up from the grave He arose,
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes,
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

“Amazing LOVE how can it be, that You, my King, would die for me!”

May your heart live daily within the rest of the story.




I'm also sharing this over at The M.O.M. Initiative. Please come on over!

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Wednesday, February 22

A Mother's Heart...of Love


“If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?” so said Milton Berle. I love that.

But as we all know, a mother can do ten things at once, right? She must do all and be all to her children: nurse, chauffeur, economist, counselor, laundress, chef. As the saying goes, she is chief cook and bottle washer!

But a mother has a surpassing divine mission...To read the rest, join me at The Mom Initiative today.


Saturday, December 31

New Year's Soup


Last year, I read a post and the last sentence made me think, “And the empty pot awaits, ready for a fresh batch.”

It reminded me of the story of Stone Soup. If you’ve never heard of it, here’s a synopsis of this version of the story:

Many years ago in Eastern Europe, people hoarded their food in a time of famine. One day, a soldier wandered into a village and asked to stay for the night. The people told him to move on as there was no food.

“Oh, I have everything I need,” he said. “In fact, I was thinking of making some stone soup to share with all of you.”

Pulling out all he needed from his wagon, he filled his cauldron with water and built a fire for it. Then, he took a velvet bag and drew out an ordinary stone and dropped it into the water.

The rumor of food spread and the villagers came to the square to find out.

As the soldier sniffed the broth, he said, “Ahh, I do like a tasty stone soup. Of course, stone soup with cabbage – now that’s hard to beat.”

Soon a villager brought him a cabbage he’d been hiding and added it to the pot. Then, the soldier said, “You know, I once had stone soup with cabbage and a bit of salt beef as well, and it was fit for a king.”

The village butcher brought out some salt beef and added it. Over and over, the soldier raved how good the soup is with added potatoes, onions, carrots, mushrooms, and so on.

Villager after villager brought out the necessary ingredients until there was indeed a delicious meal for all.

With all the added ingredients, the soup turned out to be delicious.

If your year was anything like mine, the cauldron of 2011 contained a variety of ingredients, some positive, some negative, and flavored with a dash of hope and a soupcon of joy or maybe even en grande quantité.

Now, the kettle for 2012 is empty and sits waiting to be filled, ready for all the ingredients of a new year.

What ingredients will fill your New Year? What will fill your heart?

I pray the Lord will fill your New Year with hope, peace, comfort, joy, and an abundance of blessings.

“Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Rom. 15:13 NKJV)



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