Welcome to Conversations at the Well

In Mark 6:31 Jesus gave an invitation to His friends. He said, "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place..." My friend, I believe Jesus issues this same invitation to us today. Take off your shoes of busyness, take a deep breath and sit awhile at the well of His Word. It never runs dry and it is always available. Come. Come away by yourself to a quiet place...He is waiting there for you.

Friday, November 26, 2010

A STOP IN BETHLEHEM


BETHLEHEM

…in your light we see light. Psalm 36:9

It was dark and there was a chill in the air as I headed to the well. I stopped and lit a spiced cider candle before taking my place. I watched the flame dance and the warmth of the fragrance was soft and inviting. I opened His Book and read Psalm 36 and suddenly and without warning these words jumped off the page and into my heart, “in Your light we see light.” I looked up to see Him whom my soul loves looking at the candle and I smiled as I saw the Light of the world bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight and then my heart got all excited and breathless as it raced back to Psalm 36:9 and read again, “in Your light we see light.” I could not contain myself as my heart looked up at Him again and said, “In Your light I see light.” I could tell by the light dancing in His eyes that He had arranged this moment for me and He came and took a seat very near me at the Well and His presence enveloped me there in the light.
He took me to Isaiah 9:2 and I read it slowly (that’s the best way to read His Word), “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light – a light that will shine on all who live in the land where death casts its shadow.” (NLT) I sat wondering about this light the people in the dark would see and where exactly the light came from and then I stopped in verse 6 as we read together, “For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. And the government will rest on His shoulders. These will be His royal titles: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His ever expanding, peaceful government will never end. He will rule forever with fairness and justice from the throne of His ancestor David. The passionate commitment of the Lord Almighty will guarantee this!”
My heart looked into His eyes as I whispered in the stillness, “You are the light that shines on those who live in the land where death casts it shadow. These verses are talking about your birth, aren’t they?” He nodded quietly and my heart caught a reflection of memories from eternity past shining in the eyes of Him whom my soul loves. I wondered then if the angels decorated for Christmas. Did they hang a wreath on Heaven’s door or put up Christmas lights? Did Heaven celebrate the day He laid aside His glory and took on the helplessness of a newborn? Did Jesus followers who had already walked across Heaven’s threshold light candles and sing to Him about that day while angels stand in silent awe of the very wonder of such love by the Creator that He would take on the form of the created? As I sat in the stillness my heart thought it heard echoes of the joyful celebration intertwined with awe and wonder thundering from Heaven.
I wondered if it was the voices of angels my heart heard and if so were they the same angels who had proclaimed Jesus’ birth to a group of shepherds in the fields outside Bethlehem? “What of everyone else? Where were the people of Bethlehem? Didn’t they hear the voices of Angels proclaiming the birth of Him who came to die? Wouldn’t the sound of thousands of Heaven’s warriors singing praise to God travel through the streets of Bethlehem? Did anyone stop even for a moment, tilt their head and wonder what the sound was? Where were they?” I thought to myself. “They didn’t have room,” He said, following my thoughts.
I turned His words over and over in my mind and I realized things hadn’t changed much. My thoughts turned to Christmas lights and I thought about all the different lights of the season: Christmas lights that adorn people’s homes; Christmas tree lights that shine and twinkle and add warmth to evenings with family as they gather around the Christmas tree. The soft glow of candlelight for Christmas parties with co-workers and friends and family as their laughter fills the air. Lights shine from department store windows as frazzled and harried shoppers rush about, cramming one more thing into one more moment in one more hour of one more day. Budgets strain, heads pound, rest is scarce and hearts cry out in the midst of Christmas carols and sleigh bells. All the while, standing unseen by human eyes, the Angels are still proclaiming the Good News! I thought how easily we are distracted by “world-lights” and we miss Him. “No room,” He repeated.
As the flame of the candle danced, my heart nestled quietly at His feet and there in the Light of His Presence He began to share a story with me (He is the Master Storyteller, you know). It was a story of Christmas. As He began to weave the threads of the story into my heart I knew I needed to write it down so I opened my laptop and my fingers danced across the keyboard as He spoke.
The alarm rudely interrupted her sleep and she fumbled in the darkness until her fingers found the off button. Silence filled the house once again with the exception of Andy’s soft snoring. Beth groaned as she sat up. “How on earth had she allowed herself to be talked into this?” she wondered to herself as she headed to the shower. She stood in the shower willing herself to wake up as she recalled the conversation with her friends; the same conversation they had every year, and every year Beth laughed, told them they were crazy and then declined their offer.
She hurried from the bathroom to the closet where she quickly pulled on jeans and a sweater, selected comfortable shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed to put them on. She glanced at the clock; the illuminated numbers mocked her as they announced the time: 3:55 AM! Could it have really been just seven hours ago that she and Andy, Richard, Julie, Amy and John had sat in the living room downstairs sipping coffee in front of the fire after a wonderful Thanksgiving meal? Amy and Julie began talking about all the great bargains they were going to find on their annual shopping trip the next day and Beth could see the invitation coming. She had sat next to Andy giggling, already preparing to decline when she heard Andy say what a good idea he thought it was. After all, money was a bit tight and it wouldn’t hurt to get in on some bargains. “If it’s such a great idea why am I the one going shopping in the middle of the night?” she whispered. The only reply was Andy’s snoring. She pulled on her coat just as a car pulled into the driveway. She peered through the blinds and saw Amy walking to the front door, so grabbing her purse she kissed Andy’s cheek and switched off the light as she headed downstairs.
Beth opened the front door to find Amy standing on her doorstep smiling, holding out a travel mug with a bright red ribbon tied to the handle. “I come bearing gifts,” Amy said with a soft laugh. “It’s too early even for coffee,” Beth moaned as she stepped outside and turned to lock the front door. Amy’s cheerfulness wasn’t dampened in the least by her friend’s lack of enthusiasm. She continued holding out the mug to her friend as she said, “It’s Starbuck’s Christmas Blend. I ground it myself this morning. I even used your favorite creamer: toffee nut. But wait, there’s more. I also added just a sprinkling of ground cinnamon on top. Come on grumpy, take a sip,” Amy urged. “I now know why it is called Black Friday,” Beth said as she took the mug from her friend. “Do tell,” Amy said as they walked to the car. “Because it’s black outside which matches my mood,” Beth quipped as she climbed into the backseat.
Amy and Julie chatted cheerfully as Beth sat quietly in the backseat. She thought about all the things at home she had planned to accomplish that day and wouldn’t get to and would either not get done at all or be pushed to another timeslot. But where would she find time in a schedule in which every moment was already filled? “There’s no room,” she thought to herself. Beth’s mind began racing through the days ahead which were filled to the brim with the tasks of the Season. Her insides suddenly felt as if they were in a vice being squeezed as she ran down her mental calendar. There was a school field trip to the food bank downtown to show the kids how food was distributed to the needy. Then there were two school programs to attend, Andy’s staff Christmas party given by his employer, a family Christmas party at Andy’s parents’ house and the church Christmas pageant, their small group Christmas party at their house, and then she had agreed to help Amy at the local rescue mission on Christmas Eve immediately followed by the Candlelight service at church, and then, finally, Christmas Day. All of this was added on top of the usual day-to-day activities of family life. Then there was the added stress of the economic crunch which was now being felt in their life. As a result of layoffs at Andy’s place of employment his workload had increased but his benefits had been reduced. She sat surveying her life, “no room,” she whispered into the darkness.
She was brought back to the here and now as Amy pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot where a crowd of shoppers had already congregated at the doors waiting for them to open. Beth got out of the car and decided to try and enjoy herself as the three friends spent the morning shopping together. By eleven o’clock they had each nearly completed their shopping. Julie spotted a Panera and they decided this would be a good time to stop for lunch.
“So,” Amy began, “are you all ready to begin the Advent activities?” All three of them had purchased Advent calendars. Julie and Amy each shared various activities they already had planned and then they looked at Beth eager to hear what Advent plans she had made. “Well?” Julie enquired. Beth looked down at her fork as she confessed that the Advent package was still in its box, unopened. Amy and Julie sat looking at their friend, expressions of concern in their faces. Tears sprang into Beth’s eyes as she felt the internal vice tighten. “No room,” was all she could manage to say.
A few hours later Amy helped Beth carry her packages from the car into the house. Amy gave Beth a big “I love you friend” hug before she headed home. Beth closed the front door and didn’t see her friend sitting in the front seat of her car with her head bowed having a conversation with her Heavenly Father about a dearly loved friend and sister in Christ who had found herself with no room. A few hours later found Beth lying exhausted in bed and yet unable to sleep. Her thoughts were racing around and around in her head leaving no room for rest or even the ability to carry it all to the Lord. “No room,” she whispered. Sometime in the wee hours a troubled sleep came.
The weeks passed and Beth ticked off the activities on the calendar as each came and went. The week before Christmas Beth was heading out the door to one more meeting when Andy asked her why the Nativity had not been set out yet. Beth turned and looked at the place on the mantle where the Nativity usually sat, she felt that internal vice tighten another couple of notches as she mumbled under her breath, “No room.” She arrived home late and the kids were already in bed and Andy had fallen asleep on the couch. She got ready for bed and went back downstairs to clean things up and get ready for the next day’s activities when she noticed Andy had set the Nativity out on the mantle.
The fire snapped and crackled cheerfully in the fireplace inviting her to rest a while. She stood there looking at the figures and realized she simply wanted Christmas to be over. She was tired of the endless lists of things that had to get done and places she had to be and deadlines she had to meet and she knew she had been standing there when she should have been doing things – there was no room in her day for standing and looking at Nativity scenes. No room for rest. “No room,” she whispered as she walked off to her next task.
Christmas Eve arrived and Beth pulled into an empty parking space in front of the Rescue Mission. She spotted Amy’s car a few spots over and headed to the entrance as she glanced at her watch. She hoped all would go smoothly as there was no room in her schedule for anything unplanned. They were supposed to finish serving dinner and wrapping gifts at the Mission by 6:30 which would leave Beth just enough time to go home, clean up and go to church with her family for the Christmas Eve Candlelight Service at 8:00.
Amy and Beth worked hard cooking in the kitchen and then served food for two hours straight. The next shift of servers arrived to relieve them and Beth headed toward the gift wrap area where she would spend her final hour at the mission wrapping gifts for the many people who would be spending Christmas there. Suddenly the air seemed stifling and Beth decided to step outside for a moment or two for some fresh air. She stepped through the rear door into a small courtyard behind the mission. The air was cold but welcome. Beth closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her head against the stone wall.
“Are you alright?” A man’s voice interrupted Beth’s quiet moment. She opened her eyes and found herself looking up at a tall, middle-aged man with a scruffy looking beard and ragged clothes. “I am fine. Just getting a little air,” Beth replied as she turned to head back inside. “The name’s Gabriel,” the man said as he extended his hand. Beth pretended not to notice his friendly gesture and reached for the doorknob as she said, “I really need to get back. There’s so much left to do.” Gabriel stepped closer and reached the door first and held it open for her as he said, “Can you come to the Christmas play we are doing tonight?” Beth tried to hide her surprise as she wondered what type of Christmas play this raggedy man would be in as she quickly replied, “No. I couldn’t possibly. No room,” she finished as she disappeared through the door and quickly headed to the gift wrap area. She glanced around the room and didn’t see Gabriel anywhere and assumed he had probably gone to the dining hall. She quickly put him out of her thoughts as she wrapped Christmas presents.
An hour later found Beth walking to her car wondering where the joy was she was supposed to feel – especially this time of year. But she didn’t feel joy. She reached her car and stood there a moment in the dark wrestling with something inside that was threatening to consume her. What was it she felt exactly? She closed her eyes and turned her face heavenward just as the first snowflakes began to gently fall and as they began kissing her face leaving droplets of moisture on her cheeks she realized what she felt inside: dry. “Oh Father, please help me,” she whispered into the darkness as she opened her car door and climbed inside, unaware that her prayer was heard long before it ever left her lips and help was waiting just down the road.
Beth pulled out of the parking lot onto the two lane road toward home. The snow was falling more heavily and she slowed her car as she entered a sharp curve. As she made the turn a deer suddenly sprang from the darkness directly in front of her and Beth slammed on the brakes, her car skidding to a stop as she heard a loud noise coming from her car. She sat clutching the steering wheel, her heart beating wildly as the deer stood staring at her in the headlights and then bounded off leaving her there to deal with this on her own. “Great!” she exclaimed as she rummaged through the glove box for the flashlight. She snapped the flashlight on, opened the car door and got out and walked to the other side of her car. Just as she feared, the rear passenger side tire was flat as a pancake. She walked back to the driver side, grabbed her cell phone from the center console to call the Auto Club but was unable to get a signal. “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!” she yelled into the darkness to no one in particular.
“Are you alright?” a familiar voice asked. Startled, Beth pointed her flashlight in the direction of the voice and found Gabriel standing across the road. “Wh-what are you doing out here, Gabriel?” Beth asked nervously. Gabriel smiled as he explained, “We are having our Christmas play right over here in this field. You are invited, Beth.” He finished gently. Beth couldn’t remember telling him her name and it gave her an odd, unsettled feeling. She glanced at her watch as she said, “Sorry, Gabriel. I have to see to my car and then I have someplace to be and…” her voice trailed off and she heard Gabriel’s voice right next to her softly say, “I know Beth, you have no room.”
She turned around expecting Gabriel to be standing right behind her but was surprised to see he was still across the road. She stood shivering by her car, a puzzled look on her face as Gabriel said, “Don’t worry about your tire, Beth. Come,” he invited. She stood there shivering as she wrestled over what she should do. A thought occurred to her then that perhaps she could get a phone signal out in the field so she made her decision and quickly grabbed her car keys and her cell phone, shut the driver’s door and hit the lock button and headed across the street, hoping she wasn’t acting foolishly and that Gabriel wasn’t crazy.
It had stopped snowing and they walked together in silence, the fallen snow crunching under their feet. Beth stole a sideways glance at the odd man walking beside her. “He must be seven feet tall,” she mused to herself. He was in need of a haircut and a shave. His clothes were tattered and obviously meant for someone a bit shorter. She looked down at his shoes; they were mismatched. As she looked at his feet something else struck her; something about his walk. Yes, he walked with purpose; like he knew where he was going and what to do when got there. “Odd,” she thought to herself. She decided to ask a question that had come to mind when he had first mentioned the play, “What part do you have in the Christmas play?” she asked. “I’m a messenger,” He said quietly. “You mean you play an angel?” she asked. “Something like that,” He said. Beth looked up at him and thought she saw something flash in his eyes but quickly dismissed the thought as they came through a cluster of trees into an open field.
Movement caught her eye and she could make out sheep through the darkness their gentle bleating breaking the stillness. She could also see several small campfires dotting the field and men huddled around them, some stretching their hands toward the flames to keep warm. Beth looked at Gabriel as she asked, “Shepherds?” “Yes,” came the one word reply. Gabriel seated Beth at a small campfire. He handed her a wool blanket which she gladly put over her legs. He pulled something from his coat pocket and handed it to her as he said, “It’s the script. You can read along, if you like.” She looked down and saw that he had handed her a Bible. It fell open to the book of Luke. She was about to say something but when she looked up Gabriel was headed in the direction of the shepherds.
Beth began to read the text, “There were shepherds in a field outside of Bethlehem, tending their flocks by night.” She looked up as her eyes took in the scene before her, “Shepherds tending their flocks by night,” she whispered. It was then she noticed Gabriel standing near a group of shepherds. “But when did he have time to change?” she wondered out loud. He was clothed in white and looked quite impressive as she took in the realistic looks of fear mixed with awe on the faces of the shepherds. She looked down, following the words of Gabriel’s announcement to the Shepherds and looked up as the words came to life in the field before her very eyes.
Nothing prepared her for what happened next. All of a sudden the field shown brilliant as what appeared to be an army of men all every bit as tall as Gabriel and they were singing a song she had never heard before – it was a song of praise to God and the very ground beneath her seemed to reverberate with the sound of their joy. “Oh!” she cried. “But how…who…?” was all she could manage. Then just as suddenly as they had appeared they vanished and the field was cloaked in a strange silence.
The air was electric as she heard the shepherds’ excited tones and then they all began running. She read the text out loud, “They ran to the village and found Mary and Joseph and there was the baby lying in the manger.” She looked up to see the shepherds slow their pace as they approached what appeared to be a hollowed out place in the hillside. She caught a glimpse of firelight and a young man and woman sitting in its warmth. The shepherds stood peering inside when she heard it – a baby’s cry through the night. Beth saw a tiny hand extend up out of the feeding trough and the young woman brushed a tear from her cheek as she motioned the shepherds to come near.
As Beth sat riveted to the scene the young woman lifted the baby out of the manger. He was wrapped in strips of cloth, “just as the angel said,” Beth whispered. Something on the hillside above them caught her eye and she looked up just as the clouds lifted, revealing the hilltop and on it stood a cross. She caught her breath as she stood looking from the manger to the cross the tears flowing down her cheeks as a familiar voice softly asked, “Beth, do you have room?” She went to her knees in the middle of that field and talked to the Lord about her heart that she had allowed to become so busy that she had run out of room: no room to sit with Him, no room to read His Word, no room to sit in His presence.
Gabriel helped her up and she smiled as she noticed he was wearing his tattered clothes and mismatched shoes again. As they walked back toward her car it began to snow again and as she turned her face heavenward and the snowflakes gently kissed her face, leaving tiny drops of moisture on her cheeks, she realized she wasn’t dry on the inside anymore. Her once dry heart was drenched in joy. They arrived at the car and she stopped and stared. She turned a puzzled look at Gabriel. “Look at that,” he said, “someone fixed your tire.” Gabriel helped her into her car and before he closed the door she reached out and took his hand in hers. She couldn’t speak and he simply nodded and then closed her door.
She glanced at her watch and then out the window, intending to wave goodbye to Gabriel but he was gone. She pulled her cell phone from her coat pocket. “That’s funny,” she thought, “My cell phone has full power now.” She shrugged and called Andy and quickly told him about the flat tire and that she would just meet him at church. Then she dialed Amy’s number. She answered on the third ring and Beth told her how much she enjoyed the Christmas play the mission had put on and she hoped they would do it again and that Gabriel made an excellent angel. “Amy?” Beth said into the silence. Amy sounded confused as she answered, “Beth, I don’t have any idea what you are talking about. The mission didn’t do any Christmas plays. And Beth, there’s no one at the mission named Gabriel.” Beth set her phone down on the seat, her heart overwhelmed within her.
Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the church parking lot. She hurried inside and spotted Andy and the kids sitting in the third row. Andy squeezed her hand as she sat down and then kissed her cheek as he whispered, “I love you, Beth.” Then he reached over and pulled something from her hair as he whispered, “Beth, where on earth have you been?” She looked at the piece of straw Andy held in his fingers and she smiled as she said, “I’ve been to Bethlehem.”
I closed my laptop and through my tears whispered, “Lord, thank you. Thank you for coming. Thank you for going from the manger to the cross for me. Forgive me for the times I didn’t have room for you. Help me never to lose sight of who you are and why you came. When I am distracted by the world-lights of this will you take me back to Bethlehem? My heart looked into the eyes of Love as His voice thundered through my soul, “I will beloved. I will.”


An Original Conversations at the Well
Diana Morgan
© Copyright December 7, 2009
















Saturday, November 13, 2010

From Thanks"Getting" to Thanks"GIVING"

I woke early and headed to the Well. I stopped and got my coffee with toffee nut creamer and lit a few spiced cider candles before I took my place at the Well. It was still dark and the house was bathed in stillness. He whom my heart loves hadn't arrived yet so while I waited I took a deep breath and let it out - grateful for a day free from rushing about and so glad there was no where I had to hurry off to.

With gratitude in my heart for precious time at the Well I allowed my thoughts to turn to things I was thankful for. That's what Thanksgiving Day is for, isn't it? I began to make a list of all the things I was thankful for: Salvation, home, family, my job (especially in this economy), ministry, friends. I sat thoughtfully tapping my pen on my journal as I prepared to become more detailed in my "Thanks" list, and then looking up I noticed Him.

He was standing at the living room window studying the eastern sky which was still cloaked in darkness. His eyes looked serious as He turned His gaze toward the deep places of my heart and I wondered what He saw there. Feeling a bit exposed I decided to tell Him about my "Thanksgiving list". I held up my journal so He could see it as though He didn't already know all that was written on it; even those things I hadn't thought of yet. He sat down but instead of studying my list He continued to gaze beyond my line of vision to the deepest places of my heart.

"Lord," I began, "did you see my list? I am thankful to you for these things." I thought I sounded quite sincere and I waited in the stillness for Him to approve my "thankfulness". But instead He said something that turned my thoughts inside out. He continued gazing into my heart as He said, "I see 'ThanksGETTING' in your heart." His Words thundered through my soul shaking loose my ideas of giving thanks. I turned my startled heart toward Him whom my soul loves and asked what He meant by "ThanksGETTING".

I read through my list again and as I did the Light of His Presence fell across the page and I saw that the things I had written were things I had "gotten". "Hmmmm," I thought to myself, "ThanksGETTING." I turned my puzzled heart back to Him and together we began to talk about people close to me who were struggling. Some had lost jobs. One dear family had lost a child. Others had lost fathers, husbands, friends. Another was facing fierce battles of the spiritual kind and her family was under attack from an enemy wishing to destroy them. Is it possible to have a thankful heart even in the midst of pain? "These are hard things, Lord," I whispered. I tried to put myself in their shoes and then a question formed in my heart and I knew He had placed it there, "If I lost everything, would I still give thanks? Was He worthy of my thanks apart from anything else?" Knowing my thoughts He gently took me with Him to His Word.

Psalm 107:1 Give thanks to the Lord for He is good, His love endures for ever.

Psalm 105:1 Give thanks to the Lord, call on His name.

Psalm 103:1 Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being praise His holy name.

Psalm 101:1 I will sing of your love and justice; to you, O Lord, I will sing praise.

He then took me to Psalm 100 and He read it to me and His Words turned golden in my heart as they cast His light into the dark corners of the deep places I could not see.

Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth. Worship the Lord with gladness; come before Him with joyful songs. Know that the Lord is God. It is He who made us, and we are His; we are His people, the sheep of His pasture. Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name. For the Lord is good and His love endures forever; His faithfulness continues through all generations. (Psalm 100:1-5 NIV.)

Light dawned in my heart as I said, "True thanksgiving begins in worship. I was focused on things received instead of on You - the One who gave them." I looked up into the eyes of Him who patiently teaches me and loves my often slow to understand heart. His eyes were still serious but ablaze with His glory.

Words from Isaiah 9:6 poured into my heart then, "And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." "Oh," I cried, You are gloriously enough and worthy of all my praise and all my thanks simply because of who You are." I realized anew the importance of knowing the Lord - knowing His character. He is the One who enables the hurting to still worship, to still give thanks in the midst of dark days.

I was overwhelmed there in His presence and my heart bowed down to worship Him as my "thanksGETTING" turned to "thanksGIVING".

Dear one, as you go about your Thanksgiving Day stop and before you begin listing all that you are thankful for turn your "thanksGETTING" to "ThanksGIVING" and worship Him for who He is: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. The Great I AM. Alpha and Omega.

El Shaddai - All Sufficient One
El Olam - The Everlasting God
El Elyon - The God Most High
Jehovah-nissi - The Lord My Banner
Jehovah-jireh - The Lord Will Provide
Elohim - The Creator
Qanna - Jealous
Jehovah-shalom - The Lord is Peace
Jehovah-sabaoth - The Lord of Hosts
El Roi - The God Who Sees
Jehovah-raah - The Lord My Shepherd
Jehovah-shammah - The Lord is There
Jehovah-mekoddishkem - The Lord Who Sanctifies You
Jehovah-rapha - The Lord Who Heals
Adonai - Lord, Master
Yahweh - LORD (Jehovah)

Psalm 9:10-11 "Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you. Sing praises to the Lord..."

Can you think of other names of God? Rock. Savior. Comforter. Hiding Place. Redeemer. Enjoy your time focusing on who He is and then give thanks for Who He is and what He has done. GLORY!!

Have a blessed and glorious Thanksgiving!

Love,
Diana

An Original Conversations at the Well
Diana Morgan
November 26, 2009

I recommend reading Trusting in the Names of God by Catherine Martin.


Friday, November 12, 2010

SILENT TRANSFORMATION



I hear the fire crackle happily as I gaze out at the glorious colors of fall. A few leaves gently drift past the glass. I take a sip of coffee, the rich aroma inviting me to let go the stresses of the busy world, and rest a while.

I read Amy Carmichael's words, "Home of my heart, lest I forget my redemption's cost to Thee, let my earliest thought be set upon Thy Calvary."

I nestle in, wrapping my shoulders with the warmth of a soft throw. Amy's words take me to the feet of Jesus. My heart looks up to see Him looking out the picture window as the first snow begins to fall. The snowflakes, like delicate lace fall softly, without a sound. Soon the world will be covered in a dazzling white blanket. I wonder how something so still and quiet can work such transformation. "Ah," I whisper, as my heart's gaze falls again on the object of it's very existence. "Lord, it is like you. You come silent as the snow, doing your transforming work in my life." I close my eyes, wrapped in His presence and I am at rest. Joy!

Copyright 2010
Diana Morgan
Conversations at the Well
November 12, 2010

Thursday, November 11, 2010

REFLECTIONS OF HIS GLORY


REFLECTIONS OF HIS GLORY
Earlier this week, as I strolled through my yard, I spotted two brilliant, yellow butterflies. They were dancing happily amongst the beautiful yellow lantana. The butterflies brilliant color and graceful dance only served to draw my attention more closely to the breathtaking color of the flowers. Oh, aren't we, God's women, like those butterflies? We too have joined in the dance, and as the world observes, the vivid hues of our life points to the One whose Glory we reflect.

And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into His likeness, with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. 2 Corinthians 3:18 NIV

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

BUT JESUS BENT DOWN


I am taking part in a study by Catherine Martin called a Woman's Walk in Grace. This week we are studying John 8:1-11, the woman caught in adultery. This morning as I read these verses again, I was stopped in verse six as I read, "...But Jesus bent down..."

I don't know about you, but when the Lord stops me at a particular place, and it seems as if He has marked a word, a sentence or a phrase with His heavenly highlighter, my pulse quickens. Because I know He is about to reveal something to my heart that He wants me to know.

"But Jesus bent down..." Her life was in ruins, but Jesus bent down. She was drug through the dirt of her sin, headed for judgment, but Jesus bent down. She was humiliated and used by others trying to accomplish their own purpose, but Jesus bent down. She was confronted with her sin, but Jesus bent down. She deserved death, but Jesus bent down. Her life appeared to be over, but Jesus bent down.

My friend, where does life find you today? Is a dear one sick, but Jesus bent down. Are you alone, but Jesus bent down. Do you feel there is no hope, but Jesus bent down. Are you confronted by your own frailty, but Jesus bent down.

As Jesus bent down, grace was unfurled.

A Conversation by Diana Morgan
November 9, 2010 .

Monday, November 8, 2010

The Mother-Load


THE MOTHER-LOAD
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7).
I sat on the steps at the Well, my chin in my hands and my heart full of worrisome “what if” thoughts. I had struck the mother-load -- you know, the load of worries a mother carries when things happen in her children’s lives she has no control over. He came and sat down next to me. “Tell me,” He said simply. I knew He already knew it all, had seen it all, but it helps for worried mother-hearts to pour it all out before Him. “Lord, my Elizabeth was in a car accident. What if…” my voice broke along with my heart and I couldn’t go on. He sat with me, quietly present until I could continue. “I saw her car. It was very bent and broken and I felt so scared inside. Scared of all the things that could be and might be and I wanted to wrap her in my arms; holding her forever in my mother-ness.”
He shared with me how His mother had watched Him walk the road for thirty-three years. “She had many ‘what if’ thoughts too,” He said. I wondered about that: how she bore it, seeing her beloved son suffering so. I wondered if she had thought of the tiny hands that had once rested in hers, now with spikes driven right through. His were wounds of a Savior; wounds a mother could not kiss away. Did it feel to her as though those spikes were driven through her own heart?
He looked deep into my mother-heart then and whispered, “Trust Me.” In the stillness He spoke comfort through His Word.
“Isaiah 40:11 He tends His flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart….”
“Psalm 23:1-4: The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for His names’ sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for you are with me.”
Psalm 62:5-8: “Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God, He is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge.”
Jeremiah 31:3: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness”.
Psalm 56:3-4 says this: “When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?”
As His Words sank deeply into my heart I felt comforted and strengthened. The world changes but He is the same yesterday, today and forever. My mother-heart could trust in Him; standing firmly on who He is and what He says. As my heart nestled down in peace at His feet, a poem emerged from the deepest place of my heart -- a place reserved for a mother’s love, and I poured my thoughts onto paper.









Elizabeth
Tiny hands rest in mine,
New life held in my arms.
Your daddy watches over you;
keeps you safe from all that harms.

I never will forget that day
Though I grow old the memory shan’t depart;
The day a precious baby girl
arrived to steal my heart.

Our hearts overflowed with love that day;
the sight of you stole our very breath.
Then daddy bent down whispered in your ear
We love you, sweet Elizabeth.

Rolling over, sitting up
Holding daddy’s hand you learned to walk
Baby toys placed upon the shelf
Baby chatter turned to little girl talk.

Roller skates and lady bugs
amidst a mother’s sighs
pigtails dancing in the wind,
mischief in your eyes.

The years sped by, each day you grew
It seemed no time at all
Roller skates and lady bugs
gave way to bat and ball.

Your turn to bat, we gripped our chairs;
we held our very breath.
Crack of bat; “homerun”, coach yells
Oh how we cheered for you, Elizabeth!

Hiking boots and backpacks
replaced the bat and ball
Then to your father’s dread
The boys began to call.

High School years flew by so fast
College graduation came; we scarce could catch our breath
When we heard them call your name
We were so proud, sweet Elizabeth!

Early morning 4 mile run
I find I’m out of breath
Young woman running at my side;
You are my daughter, my friend, my sweet Elizabeth

“I was in a car accident,” you cried.
We listened and held our breath
We held you close and caught your tears
We love you, sweet Elizabeth

Sounds of joy, tears and laughter
echo through the years
Hearts knit together with threads of love;
giving strength to withstand all fears.

Painting a word picture of our love;
the height, the width the depth,
Hearts intertwined bound together by love
For you, sweet Elizabeth.

I left the poem on the steps at the Well with a note written to Him whom my heart loves. “Lord, thank you for my sweet Elizabeth. Please keep her in your care -- don’t let her go even for a moment.
Love,
Diana”
Later in the day I spied the poem in the corner of my heart and saw that He had added verses of His own.

Dear one, I love your daughter too.
Knew her name long before you.
Wove her together; I gave her first breath;
She’s precious to me, sweet Elizabeth.

Loved her so much I just had to come
Thoughts of her were in my last breath
When she is still I whisper across her soul,
“I love you, sweet Elizabeth.”

A mother’s tears fell on the paper and then I felt His presence wrap around me. I leaned against Him so close I could hear His Father heart-beat. I left my mother worries and cares at His feet, trusting Him with my dear daughter and knowing His love far surpassed my own. John 3:16: “God so loved the world that He gave His only Son that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.”
That is amazing love; more than enough for all my “what if” mother-heart worries. Dear one, are you carrying a “mother-load” of worries and fears of your own? Pour out your heart in conversation to the Lord.
“The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing (Zephaniah 3:17).”

Sunday, November 7, 2010

A Conversation of Praise



I carried my coffee and my Bible out to the yard, and sat down on a large flat boulder. As I sat nestled amongst the yellow and purple lantana, my eyes were drawn to the mountains rising up to meet the western sky. Light was silently creeping into the sky, and just beginning to color the mountain peaks in shades of pink and mauve. Then the first sunlight touched the very top of the highest peak, and I blinked as it seemed the very touch of the sun caused the mountain to reach ever higher upward, as if trying to peer into the throne room of God Most High.


It was then I sensed the sweet presence of Him whom my soul loves and together we went to Isaiah 55:12. He asked me to read it out loud.


"You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands." Isaiah 55:12 NIV


My heart was filled with unmeasured joy as a mockingbird joined in the morning celebration of a new day. A new day to love the Lord. A new day to praise Him, not only with my lips but with my actions, my very being rising up as the mountains, my soul clapping in jubilant celebration as the trees clap their hands.


He drew me very near Him, and my heart worshiped the One who alone is worthy of worship.


Glory!



My dear friend, has there been a time when you have had a conversation of praise with the Lord? I would love for you to share it here.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Conversations at the Well



Dear Friends,

2 Timothy 3:16 tells us that, "All Scripture is God-breathed... Hebrews 4:12 states this about God's Word, "For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow, it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart."

Have you ever sat and contemplated the Word of God?

Tomorrow's Conversations will be the story I shared last month (as only one of you heard it, and I did not post it, it will be new for most of the rest of you). In the story, we will see first-hand the power of the Word of God as it goes out. The study portion will be new, and will focus on the power of the Word of God. Also, as I have been working on a new story, I realized that it builds on this story I'll be sharing tomorrow night. God never ceases to amaze me.

Ask God to prepare your heart for what you will hear and what He has specifically for you. Think about the Word of God.

We will begin at 7 as this particular story is longer than normal, and I want you to have the full time on your own in His Word. At 7 we will listen to one song, and then go right into the story.

What to Bring:
Bible
Journal
Pens, Highlighters
Favorite Quiet Time Supplies

I am looking forward to our time together.

See you tomorrow night at the Well.

Diana
760-567-9339

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Heartbeats of Grace



“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws. You will live in the land I gave your forefathers; you will be my people, and I will be your God.” (Ezekiel 36:26-28 NIV)

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. (Romans 5:1-2 NIV)

I am currently taking part in an online study called A Woman’s Walk in Grace, led by Catherine Martin. Each week she posts a question for us to ponder and answer before the online discussion. This week’s question: Share one way you have seen God work in your life and spiritually grow you deep in the garden of grace. I thought I would share my ponderings to that question with you this morning as this week’s devotional.

Grace. Such a small word, and yet one could fill volumes in the sharing of it. As I ponder this question, God has pressed on my heart to share the beginning. Just as grace pursued Peter through the dark days following his denial of Jesus, until he stood face to face with grace on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, and Jesus gathered Peter's brokenness and restored him, God also pursued me through some dark days. Grace kept coming after me, kept whispering to my heart that I was not a lost cause. Until one night, when I reached the bottom and my heart cried out, "who would want me now?" Grace thundered through the darkness, "I want you, Diana. It's not too late. Reach out your hand." Jesus showed up. In fact, He had been in pursuit of me for months, but I hadn't recognized Him until that moment.

Soon after that; and I will never forget this, my husband took me on a weekend getaway to a small bed and breakfast in the mountains. He was taking me out to dinner. When I went to put on the dress I had brought to wear, there, lying across the dress was a beautiful diamond heart pendant. It took my breath away. My husband, with eyes dancing, picked it up and put the sparkling heart around my neck as he said, "Diana, this represents the new heart God has given you." Ezekiel 36:26 is one my most treasured whispers from the Lord to me, "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." Grace. Grace pursued me through the darkness. Grace called my name. Grace redeemed me. Grace rescued me. Grace removed my old, stinky, hard, heart of sin. Grace put a new heart within me; a heart that beats with delight for the Lord; a heart that desires the Lord above all else.

Grace doesn’t end with our salvation. Oh no, that is just the beginning.
In the stillness this morning as the Lord invited me to sit with Him awhile and talk about His grace, my heart looked up, and His eyes danced as He reminded me of the new heart He gave me. Not the physical one that will one day wear out. No, this is the heart that is soul-deep, and as we talked I heard it, joyous heartbeats of grace.

What about you, my friend. What is one way God has grown you in the garden of grace?

An Original Conversations at the Well
Diana Morgan
October 28, 2010

Sunday, September 26, 2010

HEAVEN'S DECLARATION


HEAVEN’S DECLARATION

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky displays what his hands have made. 2 One day tells a story to the next. One night shares knowledge with the next 3 without talking, without words, without their voices being heard. 4 {Yet,} their sound has gone out into the entire world, their message to the ends of the earth.
Psalms 19:1-4 (GW)


I carried my Bible and my cup of coffee out into the yard. A large flat boulder in the midst of desert plants invited me to come sit a while. I set my Bible down next to me and took in the glorious stillness while I waited for He whom my soul loves to nudge the day into wakefulness.

I took a sip of coffee and looked up at the night sky. The moon hung in the west, and was beginning her quiet descent behind the mountains while Mars lit her way. I continued studying the sky and my gaze came to rest on the Big Dipper. My thoughts began turning, and I looked down at His Word sitting next me and then back at the Big Dipper. A smile touched my lips as I whispered, “Lord, the Big Dipper even reminds me to dip into your living word water, and drink deeply.” It was then my heart became aware of familiar footsteps, and looked up to see Him walking through the garden to meet with me.

He sat down on the boulder next to me, and I simply enjoyed His sweet company there under the expanse of stars He had hung Himself. As we sat quietly, I looked around the garden and then at Him and thought of another garden He had spent time in, the night before He went to the cross. I looked at His hands, the ones with the deep, dark scars in them, and thought of how the hands that hung stars had spikes pounded through them. “Lord,” I whispered. “that must have hurt so much. Thank you for…” I couldn’t finish. I looked around the garden, and then at Him as I thought about the wonder of grace. I smiled through my tears as I realized I was sitting with Him in a garden – a garden of grace.

We turned our attention back to the heavens and He shared familiar words with me from His book. They were words He had given a shepherd boy named David to write down.

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky displays what his hands have made. 2 One day tells a story to the next. One night shares knowledge with the next 3 without talking, without words, without their voices being heard. 4 {Yet,} their sound has gone out into the entire world, their message to the ends of the earth.
Psalms 19:1-4 (GW)
I looked back at the Big Dipper and how it reminds me to drink from the Streams of Life, and Psalm 19, came alive and made its way deep into my heart. I was filled with wonder at the One Who before time itself had written His love for me into His sky. It declares without uttering a word God’s love.
I was overwhelmed by Him and Who He is. The Great I AM. My heart bowed in worship, and a song I used to sing when I was a little girl came to mind, and I decided to sing it to the One my soul lives for. You can sing it to Him too.


How Great Thou Art
Oh Lord my God when I in awesome wonder
Consider all the *worlds thy hands have made
I see the stars, I hear the **rolling thunder
Thy power throughout the universe displayed

REFRAIN:
Then sings my soul my savior God to thee
How great thou art
How great thou art
Then sings my soul my savior God to thee
How great thou art how great thou art

When thru the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze (Refrain)

And when I think that God, his Son not sparing
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in
That on the cross my burden gladly bearing
He bled and died to take away my sin (Refrain)

When Christ shall come With shout of acclamation
To take me home What joy shall fill my heart
Then I shall bow in humble adoration
And there proclaim my God how great thou art (Refrain)

Sunday, September 19, 2010

LOOK TO THE LORD


LOOK TO THE LORD
“I lift up my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven. As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maid look to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the LORD our God, till He shows us His mercy” (Psalm 123:1,2 NIV).
Have you ever been in the midst of the ordinary when suddenly the Lord shows up and reveals something to you about being in relationship with Him?
The sidewalk narrowed and I dropped back behind Marc and Teddy. Teddy is our golden retriever and is about to turn two years old. He is a wonderful dog. Not only is he beautiful, but he is so very gentle. I smiled as I recalled a recent visit by our six year old grandson Hunter. Hunter picked up one of Teddy’s toys and began to run through the living room, dining room, kitchen, entry way and back to the living room with Teddy in hot pursuit. Around and around they went. Teddy could have easily caught Hunter, knocked him down and taken his toy back, but he didn’t. The great chase finally ended with Hunter turning around giggling, as 110 pounds of joy licked his face. The memory warmed my heart as we walked along under a starry canopy.
Suddenly, headlights pierced the darkness as a car approached from behind us. I glanced at Teddy, wondering if he was going to try to chase the car as he had the previous morning on our walk. I could see the scene clearly in my mind’s eye. A car approached from behind us, and as it passed Teddy suddenly darted after the car, attempting to chase after it. Marc’s discipline was immediate and firm. His hand gave the corrective collar a jerk, and his voice thundered through the predawn stillness as he commanded Teddy to heel. I wondered now what was about to happen.
The car was fast approaching, Teddy’s ears moved into alert mode and there was no doubt he was very much aware of what was coming. The car reached us and as it passed Teddy suddenly turned his gaze upward to his master, and then he touched Marc’s hand with his muzzle while moving his body in closer until he was actually in physical contact with Marc as they continued walking along. For several minutes they walked this way, with Teddy constantly looking up at Marc, and Marc pouring verbal praises down on Teddy. Teddy was basking in the approval of his master.
As I took in the scene, I pondered Teddy’s response to his master’s discipline. He hadn’t pouted or become wild or rebellious. His response was to look to his master and move in closer to him. “A master disciplines those he loves.” “Lord, I didn’t see you arrive,” I said a bit startled. I looked at Marc and wondered if he noticed the Lord walking with us. Teddy had stopped to investigate some bushes as we turned onto a path that wound through many trees and shrubs.
“I don’t like discipline very much,” I said, flatly. “I discipline those who belong to Me. Don’t make light of it,” He replied. He stopped to look at a little blue flower that had opened at the tip of one of the many vines that lined the path. The vines had recently been pruned, and were now beginning to blossom again. The scene caught my attention. “Discipline produces fruit, doesn’t it Lord,” I asked as I turned my heart’s gaze fully toward Him.
I glanced over at Marc and Teddy and then back to Him whom my soul loves as I thought about what the Lord was revealing to my heart. “Lord,” I whispered. “Make my response to your discipline like Teddy’s. Help me to learn from it and to look to You and move in so close to you that I am in contact with you. Help me to stay in step with you. Thank You for reeling me in at those times I have allowed something to distract me from You, and I have run off after it. Thank You, Lord, for Your discipline.”
We walked in quietness, my heart overwhelmed by His presence. I turned my gaze up to Him, and He reached down and touched my heart with His nail-pierced hand, and I moved in closer, so close I could feel His very presence, and I never wanted to leave His side. Joy!
How about you, my sweet friend? What is your response to the Lord’s discipline in your life? Read Hebrews 12. Then look up and move in. Look up at the One who calls you His own, and draw closer to Him. Oh the blooms that will appear in your life as a result.

An original Conversations at the Well
By Diana Morgan
© Copyright by Diana Morgan September 16, 2010

LIMITLESS HOPE


LIMITLESS HOPE
"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." (Hebrews 6:19 NIV)
Have you ever found hope inside the grocery store? I spotted Him in the isle of household cleaning products, and He appeared to be reading labels. Marc continued a bit further down the isle to pick up our preferred laundry soap, but I drew near to the One for whom my heart beats, and He directed my gaze to the particular label He was studying.
The bottle was red, and in bright, large letters across the front were the words "LOADS OF HOPE." Directly below that in much smaller print were how many loads there were. "Hmmm...," I said with a chuckle, "it looks like you only get 42 loads of hope."
"Don't settle," He said. "Huh?" I replied, leaning in so I wouldn't miss anything He said.
"Don't put your hope in the things of this world. Put your hope in Me." He finished. I thought about all the things people around me put their hope in: government, money, material things, their children, their spouse, their careers, their physical health, and even religion. I pondered all these things in my heart as we went through the check-out line and then home.
As soon as the groceries were put away I headed down the familiar path to the well. I arrived at the well and Perfect Hope was waiting there for me. His Book was open and He had marked some places He especially wanted me to read. So I took off my shoes - the ones I wear on Saturdays to run around doing all my chores - and I took my place at His feet.
My heart grew still as He talked with me about Hope. Here is some of what He shared with me. Why don't you kick off your shoes of busyness and sit a few minutes with Him too?

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." (Romans 15:13 NIV)

"To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory." (Colossians 1:27 NIV)

"He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope that He will continue to deliver us." (2 Corinthians 1:10 NIV)

"And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us. (Romans 5:5 NIV)

I remained quiet as I pondered hope. I had heard about different kinds of hope. There was little hope, diminished hope, crushed hope, vain hope, empty hope, and lost hope. I had even talked with people whose hope had died. As I thought of these kinds of hope, the laundry soap label came to mind, “LOADS OF HOPE…42 loads.” I looked at Him who is Eternal Hope and asked, “Lord, why would anyone choose hope that only goes so far and then runs out?” A picture formed in my mind of someone hurrying to the place where their hope was kept only to find their hope gone. An ache for those who had this kind of hope began to form deep in my heart.
In that moment He drew me very near Him and said, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him" (John 7:37-38).
I thought about a thirsty world that didn’t seem to know what they needed to satisfy such a thirst – a thirst of the soul. How would they know? Following my train of thought, He said, “You are salt and light.” I thought about that for a moment, and then moving in a bit closer to Him, said, “Sometimes, I don’t feel very salty or like I have much light. In fact, there are times my own hope seems to be a bit low.” “That’s the trouble,” He said. “What is?” I asked. “Your own hope; it’s no hope at all. Lasting hope is only found in Me. Come to Me,” He finished.
I’m not sure why, but our talk made me think of another woman who had met Him at a different well long ago. Knowing my thoughts, He softly said, “Her hope had run out.” Gazing up at Him, I said, “But then You gave herYour hope.” I thought about her, and then it occurred to me, she had run back to town casting light and salt on everyone she met, and then she led those heart-thirsty people to Jesus. “Then they believed for themselves,” He said.
It was then the Master Weaver took the threads from Romans 5:13 and John 7:37-38 and turned them golden as He skillfully wove them into the fabric of my heart, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him. …so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” “Oh,” I cried as my heart sat up. “I too must come to You every day. You will fill me with Living Water and with Your hope. Then as I go about in a thirsty world, the power of the Holy Spirit will cause me to overflow with hope.” “Salt and light,” He said.
I lingered a while, drinking deeply at the Well of His Presence. When I stood to put my shoes of busyness back on, I saw that He had replaced them with shoes of hope. My heart smiled broadly as I put them on, they felt so much better than shoes of busyness. I walked the path, my feet shod with the hope He had given me; not a hope like the world gives, oh, no. His hope doesn’t end after 42 uses. It can’t be crushed and it can never die. It’s glorious, living, limitless hope.
A little later, as I was going about finishing my chores for the day, I found a note He had tucked into a corner of my heart, and I sat down and read His Words – they were from Psalm 62:5-8. I decided to turn them into a prayer.
Father, give me rest for my soul – the kind only You can give. You alone are my hope, my rock, my salvation, and my fortress, so I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on You. You, Lord, are my mighty rock, my refuge. Help me to trust in You at all times. Help me to pour out my heart to You, for You are my refuge. Amen. Feel free to borrow my prayer if you want to.
Later that night, I stopped by the well and found a note He had left for me. “Daughter, thank you for the prayer. Will do it.”

Dear one, are you running low on hope? Are you unsure where you left it? When was the last time you stepped out of the busyness and spent some time with Him who is our Living Hope? What kind of shoes are you wearing today? Perhaps yours are shoes of sorrow, rejection, guilt, depression, fear, worry or anxiousness. Do you hear His voice thunder through your soul, “Come with Me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” (Mark 6:31) And after you have drawn away and sat with Him a while, you'll find He has exchanged the shoes you wore for shoes of hope; glorious, limitless hope.

An Original Conversations at the Well
By Diana Morgan
© Copyright September 18, 2010

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Having a Heart That Sticks


I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as my daughter and I headed out into the darkness on our morning run. As we ran, my thoughts began to stir and turned toward my new job at the church. I was just beginning my second week in my new position and it still felt a bit strange. A smile touched my lips as I recalled the first day in my new position. I pulled into the church parking lot and without even realizing it pulled into my old parking spot. It had been automatic. Even two weeks in, I was still prone to turn down the hallway toward Children's Ministries. The pathway of the familiar beckoned and I had to be intentional in walking the new path set before me.


I wondered why God didn't just make the new path He had laid out for me feel as comfortable as the old. I thought about my friends in children's with whom I had worked so closely for eight years and now, though we were still friends, the relationship had changed - it was different and in some ways to turn from the familiar to the new was painful. A host of other thoughts began lining up at my heart's door, clammoring for my attention. Would I be successful in my new position? What if this wasn't really what I was supposed to do? What if I had made a mistake? As these thoughts paraded through my mind, my daughter and I crossed the bridge just before turning into the park when suddenly we heard a strange sound.


Elizabeth and I looked at each other, large question marks in our eyes as we wondered what the noise was that seemed to be following us. Looking down I spotted the culprit. I had stepped on something that appeared to be some sort of adhesive and it was stuck fast to the bottom of my running shoe. I tried stomping as I ran but it stayed with me. I drug my foot, but it didn't come off. We ran through grass and sand but it stuck to my shoe like glue. I ran uphill and so did the tape. I turned a corner, it was still there. I changed directions but it wouldn't let go. We ran through puddles of water but it did not loosen its grip - it held fast.


Finally, stopping, I bent down and grabbed hold of the tape and pulled it off of my shoe. Looking at Elizabeth, I said, "Wow. That was really sticky. It didn't want to let go of my sole." We continued our run and the words "sticky" and "sole" seemed to dance through my thoughts. "I love sticky hearts," He said. My heart looked up breathless as He who loves perfectly drew me into His presence. I love that I can be running on the outside but sit at the Lord's feet on the inside, don't you?


"Err, sticky hearts?" I asked, uncertain what He was trying to tell me. "You need to stick to me just like that tape was stuck to you," He said. I closed the eyes of my heart and tried to envision being stuck to the Lord's foot. I thought about all the different places He would travel and the ever changing terrain. I thought about what a "Lord's-foot level" view of the world would be like as together we went up hill and down hill, around bends and through valleys. Sometimes we would travel the same path for a while until it became comfortable, like a favorite pair of shoes, and then He would change directions and head into new and unexplored lands. I thought about things that might try to separate me from Him: sharp rocks of doubt or puddles of difficulties, oh, and deep, gritty sand! "ugggh. I hate sand," I whispered. Then I wondered if I would fall off his foot just as the tape had come off my shoe when pulled hard enough.


My heart looked up into the eyes of the One who knows from eternity past to everlasting as He spoke of some of His followers who when things got difficult, fell away (John 6:41-66). "Daughter, do you love me more than these?" His voice rumbled through my heart, shaking my soul awake, so I could hear His every whisper. I recognized the words Jesus had said to Peter as they had walked along the shores of Galilee. The Lord's words touching Peter's broken places and restoring him so He would follow Him anywhere (John 21:15-18).


My heart felt ashamed then as I realized I had drug my feet to follow Him into the new places He was leading me. I had longed for the familiar. I had wanted to return to what I knew, to walk the familiar shores of my comfort zone, just as Peter had. My heart bent low in worship, and as I worshiped Him something wonderful happened. He took my heart in His nail-pierced hands and I whispered, "Lord, is it sticky enough?" He pressed His presence against my heart until it stilled and rested and trusted in the One who promised never to let me go. "Lord," I whispered. "What is it, daughter," He asked. And though I knew He already knew what I was going to ask I asked Him anyway. "Lord, give me a heart that sticks to You." The eastern sky turned pink with the promise of a new day as His eyes danced and His voice thundered as He said, "Daughter, you are mine. I know you. You know my voice. No one can snatch you from me. Follow Me."


Dear one, do you have a heart that sticks to the Lord no matter what or a heart that has turned away? Are you ready to follow Him eagerly anywhere He leads or are you longing for the shores of the familiar? Read John 21:15-19. End your time by reading Romans chapter 8. O beloved, the Lord loves a sticky heart that attaches itself to Him and gladly goes with Him everywhere He leads. Be still. Do you hear Him? He is calling you, beckoning you to run to Him in all your "stickiness" Will you ask Him anew to give you a heart that sticks? This would be a great time to have a conversation with the Lord about all that is in your heart.


An original Conversations at the Well
Copyright By Diana Morgan
August 7, 2010

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Follow the Leader



…how long will you waver…if the Lord is God follow Him.
1 Kings 18:21 NIV

I was just about to settle into a corner of the trailer to read when my husband asked if I was going to get dressed. I looked up from my comfortable chair just as he was putting on his riding boots. We had arrived at Stoddard Valley a couple of hours earlier to get in one last weekend of camping before the heat of the desert summer hit. It was a cloudy day and the wind rocked the trailer as a few raindrops pattered against the window; reading and perhaps a nap were more what I had in mind. But looking into my husband’s eyes I saw hope of an afternoon spent riding so I got up and went to put on my riding gear. Twenty minutes later my dirt bike rumbled to life and with my husband leading the way I let out the clutch and turned the throttle and followed him; leaving my comfort zone behind.

The trail we were on was pretty wide and smooth and I began to relax and shifted my bike into second gear. But as I assumed a place of comfort my husband left the trail and headed off into the open desert. “Where is he going?” I thought to myself as I turned my bike and followed after him. A large jackrabbit darted out from some creosote bushes and right behind him ran my sense of security as I rode not knowing where my husband would lead me next.

I rode through the desert following him as he turned onto another trail. There were twists and turns and obstacles but I kept my eyes firmly fixed on my husband and mirrored his actions as we rode. I followed him up hill and once at the top we parked the bikes and took a walk up an embankment where we stopped to take in the view. The valley stretched below us, the surrounding hills were blanketed with wildflowers and blooming cactus. It was breathtaking. My husband slipped his arms around me and kissing my forehead said, “You are doing really well.” His encouragement fueled my confidence and I suddenly felt very brave as we got back on our dirt bikes.

The bikes roared down the hill and I stood up, my feet firmly planted on the pegs as we rode through a series of dips at the bottom of the hill and I found myself laughing with delight. As I followed where my husband lead it seemed to me we were in unison; standing, leaning, turning and riding in perfect harmony. We had a wonderful afternoon exploring trails together; when our campsite came into view I was sad to see our adventure come to an end and as I got off my bike I was already looking forward to continuing the adventure the next day.

My husband and I stood holding hands in the cool desert morning, heads bowed, eyes closed. The wind whipped around us as if doing its best to interrupt our time together at the Lord’s feet but my husband’s voice was steady and strong as he asked He who loves us to give us safety during our ride and fun together as husband and wife. I love hearing my husband talk with the Lord about us. We put on our helmets and I climbed on my bike with a smile on my heart as I put the bike into gear eager for the adventure that lay ahead.

The eagerness quickly turned to apprehension as my husband turned and headed in the opposite direction of where I thought we were going to go.

While I wanted adventure, I wanted it to be the same adventure we had shared yesterday. “He didn’t ask me if this is where I wanted to go,” I muttered to myself. I barely finished my complaint when we turned onto another trail and there before me lay deep sand. “Arrrgh”, I exclaimed as my bike began to fishtail and I hit the brakes which I knew was the opposite of what I should do. The front tire dug into the sand and I had to use my legs as I turned the throttle to try to get moving again. As I started to move ahead I saw a large prickly bush on the right and knew I did not want to hit it; but as I focused on not hitting it; the bush apparently sensed it and turned on its tractor beam and drew me in and the very thing I didn’t want to do, I did as I smacked into it. The bush tried to take me down as one part of it grabbed hold of my boot while the other jammed in the gear shift. I was pulling myself free when my husband arrived and asked if I was okay. “I hate sand,” was my reply. “Remember to keep your speed up and then you will go right over the sand instead of digging into it,” he said in his most patient instructor voice. As I pulled the remaining plant off my bike I looked at my husband and could see his eyes were smiling from behind his goggles as he said, “Isn’t this fun?” As I started my bike and struggled through the sand I thought, “Fun is not the word I would use to describe this.”

I tried to put my husband’s instructions into practice as I picked up speed and it was easier but I still felt out of control as the rear tire would wobble a bit as I turned corners and my heart was somewhere in my throat as my apprehension grew. Suddenly the sand became a landmine of rocks as they protruded randomly on the trail. “Great!” I said, “Why on earth did I ever take up dirt bike riding?” I asked myself as my bike seemed to find every rock hidden in the sand. But as I bumped along and saw my husband up ahead I remembered the reason very clearly and I knew the Lord had brought it to mind in this moment. I had prayed for it. Oh not specifically for dirt bike riding but for time with my husband. I wanted us to grow closer and so I became very diligent in my prayers about it. My husband had taken up dirt bike riding and I began to pray that he would desire to spend time with me. Well, he did but he wanted me to ride dirt bikes with him.

I remembered when he first suggested I learn to ride and I declared most emphatically that I would NEVER ride a dirt bike. But as time passed and I continued to pray for time with my husband, the Lord impressed on me that He wanted me to go riding with my husband. In fact, it became a matter of obedience. I remember telling my husband that I would learn to ride a quad but his reply was, “No. No quads. I want you to ride a dirt bike because two wheels are safer than four.” That did not make any sense to me. To my way of thinking four wheels seemed much safer than two; more stable; more predictable. But my husband persisted and the Lord kept whispering to my heart that He wanted my marriage to grow too but He wanted to do it from a dirt bike. And so my husband taught me to ride and before I knew it I had a bike of my own.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted as I saw a large hill up ahead and at its base a mote of large rocks. I watched as my husband flew across with rocks flying as he sped to the top of the hill. He turned looking down at me expecting me to follow but instead I put on the brakes and put my boots firmly on the ground. There was no way I was going across those rocks or up that hill. My husband soon realized I was not moving nor did I appear to have any plans for moving in the near future so turning his bike around he came down the hill and motioned me to follow him. I fell in line behind him relieved to have escaped the hill of doom.

As we rode, the freeway came into view in the distance and I wondered if I could hike there and get a ride back to camp. A newsflash suddenly played in my mind, “Wayward dirt biker found on freeway. Story at 11.” I rejected the great freeway escape and followed my husband over a very rocky trail. It turned this way and then that and went uphill and then downhill. We came up out of it and he pulled to the side of the trail, shut his bike off and removed his helmet. “This is great!” he exclaimed. “I love the hills and turns”, he finished. I looked at him as I said, “I’m more of a flat-land, straight road, no rocks, no sand kind of gal myself.” He looked off into the distance as he said, “Life isn’t like that. Life is like a rollercoaster.” “Well”, I said, “I don’t like the rollercoaster. I’m afraid of the rollercoaster.” He looked at me as he said, “Embrace your fear. Fear is the invitation to courage.” This made me laugh as I playfully socked him in the arm and asked him where he had heard all these one line words of wisdom. He didn’t answer but simply kissed the end of my nose and put his helmet back on.

We rode off down the trail in a cloud of dust and flying rocks. I tried hard to quell my fear but it just wouldn’t leave me alone. We continued down the rocky trail and descended into a canyon. There were sharp cacti along the trail and large boulders everywhere and my body jarred with every turn of the wheels. “Lord!” I cried and I hurried to the well as fast as my heart could go. “What’s wrong?” He asked as He looked at a map of some kind. I wondered what it was a map of as I proceeded to tell Him what was wrong. “I don’t think I can dirt bike ride with my husband anymore,” I blurted out. He was quiet so I continued with my whining about the trails and the big rocks and the deep sand and the towering hill of doom. “You liked it yesterday,” He replied. “The trails were easy yesterday and I thought we were going to go the same way today or I never would have come. And do you know he didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go this way!” I finished, certain He would be sympathetic and give me permission to stop following my husband. He didn’t.

Instead He said. “How long will you waver between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow Him.” I recognized the words from His book – they were from 1st Kings. “Why are you riding dirt bikes with your husband?” He asked. I sighed as I knew He already knew the answer but I said it out loud any way. “Because you told me to,” I finished. “Who is your husband following?” He asked. “You,” I replied. “That’s right,” He said. Then He put a finger on my heart and began to quiet my fear as He spoke about what it meant to follow Him. Then He said, “Follow the Leader.” I was about to ask Him what He meant when I noticed my husband had disappeared over a hill and when I arrived at the top I slid to a stop.

I looked down as the hill was steep and about half way down it turned sharply to the left and protruding all the way down were rocks. I sat there on the hilltop staring down at the obstacles that lay on the trail ahead and found myself longing for the familiar trails of yesterday. It was then I saw Him fly down the hill on a dirt bike not sold in any earthly store. His eyes burned like fire as He rode and He called out as He passed me, “Follow the Leader.” I saw Him ride just past my husband and then turn around and look up at me; bidding me to follow Him. I let the clutch out and slowly eased up on the brake and the bike moved down the hill I squealed all the way down to the bottom where my husband was waiting and he gave me a high five as he said with a voice filled with pride, “you did it!”

We continued on but had not gone far when we were met with a beautiful sight. We removed our helmets as we took in the scene that lay before us. On either side of the trail there were dark red rocks and in the center; coming up out of the trail were huge boulders of quartz; they were brilliant white. We had never seen anything like it. As we put our helmets on and started up our bikes it occurred to me that I had almost missed it and I wondered how many other treasures I had missed because I was afraid to follow the trail; afraid to follow the leader. His voice thundered across my soul then as He said, “You can’t know what might have been. Follow the Leader,” He said.

There it was again, that funny phrase He kept saying, “Follow the Leader.” I put my bike into gear and pulled out behind my husband. I watched him as he expertly rode over the rocks and sand and I mirrored his actions. He stood up then as we came to some dips and I stood too. It was then my sometimes slow heart began to understand what He who gave all for me was trying to teach me. Following Him would sometimes be scary and there would be times the trail would be unfamiliar and I would have no idea where He was leading me; it would be filled with obstacles and sometimes hills of doom would loom up before me but as I mirror Christ and stand with my feet firmly planted on the pegs of His Truth I can follow Him in complete confidence, being carried along by the Holy Spirit who lives in me.

I laughed as we sailed through a series of dips and I even think I caught a little air and in the midst of my laughter I saw Him. He who loves me was just ahead of my husband leading the way and I realized in that moment we were following the Lord. I smiled as His words thundered through my soul, “Follow the Leader.”

The Lord may never ask you to ride a dirt bike but I do know He asks each of us to follow Him. Is there something the Lord has asked you to do that you are afraid to do? Write it down.

Look up 1 Kings 18:21 and read this verse slowly. My friend, are you wavering? If the Lord is God, follow Him.

“He went out, not knowing whither he went.” Hebrews 11:8
The Bible is filled with ordinary people called by God to follow Him and in following Him extraordinary things happened. Tonight we are going to read about a young girl named Hadassah also known as Esther. Turn with me now to the book of Esther (just before the book of Job in the Old Testament.)

Please read this story from beginning to end. Allow the Holy Spirit to stop you; keeping in mind that Esther followed God.

Answer the questions below as we go.

What had happened to Esther’s parents? (Esther 2:7)

What ethnicity was Esther?

Where was Esther taken? Verse 8

Little Hadassah loses her mother and father through death and goes to live with her uncle Mordecai. She has just settled into her new life when she is carried off to the king’s palace. Look out, Esther has left the familiar trails and God is leading her into the unknown.

Can you think of a time in your life when you were just settling in to life and suddenly the trail turns and you veer off into the desert where nothing is familiar? Take some time to journal about it.

How long did the beauty treatments last?

When Esther’s turn came to go to the King what did she ask for? 2:15

Read on, dear friend.

In chapter 3 a plot is unveiled. What group of people was the plot against?

Who thought the plan up?

According to Haman’s plan, what would happen to the Jews?

How does Mordecai find out about the plan?

The towering hill of doom has risen up out of the desert and Esther is headed straight for it!

In Chapter 4 Mordecai sends word to Esther about the plot to destroy the Jews. What is Esther’s response to Mordecai?

What was Esther’s response back to Mordecai in 4:10-11?

Read carefully verses 13-14 focus in on what Mordecai says to Esther.

Do you feel the tension mounting? Esther has just arrived at the top of the hill and is looking down the other side; it is steep and filled with obstacles; even death. But Esther sees Him; the One she calls LORD and He is bidding her follow.

Take a moment and think about the beginning of this lesson. You know, that thing God has asked you to do that you don’t want to do so you are pretending not to hear Him. My friend, what if He has brought you to this point for such a time as this? Oh maybe you won’t save an entire people but what if by following into the unknown people came to know Christ. For such a time is this…

Read chapter 4 verses 15-16. I can visualize this scene in my mind. Esther is at the top of the hill looking down with danger and probable death at the end but as she sees the Lord in the midst of it all she lets out the clutch, eases off the brakes and she goes down the hill screaming all the way. “If I die, I die.” (But I’m going to follow Him anyway).

Go ahead and finish reading the story. I’ll see you at the end.

Look up Deuteronomy 1:34-36. Who did the Lord say would receive what He had promised?

Why was Caleb going to receive the promise?

He followed the Lord wholeheartedly.

Let’s finish our time together by reading Hebrews 11:1 – 12:3

My dear friend, are you following the Lord with your whole heart or are you stuck in the sand somewhere or have you skidded to a stop before the towering hill of doom? Have you ridden to the top of the hill and all you see below you are obstacles? But wait! Do you see Him? He’s standing at the bottom of the hill and He is bidding you to follow? Will you do it? Come on. Let out the clutch. Ease up on the brake and go down the hill in complete obedience to Him; even if it means you are screaming all the way down. There is reward in obedience to the Lord; just ask Caleb. The Lord has a plan for you (Jeremiah 29:11) but it requires you to follow Him; follow the Leader.

An Original Conversations at the Well
© by Diana Morgan May 2009

Thursday, July 15, 2010

FATHER



“For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of son-ship. And by Him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs, heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:15-16).”
The wind moved through the cypress trees, their branches waving as though greeting one another in the mid-morning sun. They’d stood for hundreds of years dotting the grounds surrounding the great house. Dignitaries had once discussed important matters beneath the stately boughs, but where once was heard the voices of powerful men a new sound was heard; the sound of children.
As the children’s voices filled the morning air, a girl emerged from the garden. The sun danced across her short black hair causing it to shine in its light. Her frame was small, her face delicate and her eyes were beautiful: almond shaped and black as coal. Normally her eyes were guarded, protecting a heart that bore deep scars of being abandoned and unwanted and she wore an expression of resignation to the fate of unwanted, girls in China. But today was different. In her arms she carried a package and in her eyes hope.
The call had come for her right after breakfast to go to the office of the director. The director’s words still rang in her ears, “Mai, you have been chosen.” Mai’s eyes had been big question marks as the director went on to explain that seven months earlier a family in America had seen her picture and wanted her to come be a part of their family. That wasn’t all; the family had written Mai a letter. She sat quietly as the director read the letter to Mai written by a man and a woman who wanted Mai to come and be their daughter. They wrote of how they saw her picture and loved her right away. They talked about their home and of how they were preparing a place for her.
They wrote of longing to know all about her and how they already knew how she loved to read, play games and write poetry. They knew about her interest in bugs. They even knew that her favorite color was green because praying mantises were green and they were her favorite bug. They went on to describe the room they were preparing just for her. There was a large window in her room that looked out at the garden and next to it was a writing desk where she could pen her poems. There was a large bookcase with some books already in it, but lots of room for her to add to the collection; and there was a shelf that held games they knew she loved, but also some that they loved to play and looked forward to teaching her.
The letter ended with words of encouragement penned from the one who called himself “father”. He wrote: “Dear Daughter, how good it sounds to call you that; though now you are loved from a distance, soon you will be drawn near. You do not know it, but my thoughts of you began long before this letter was written. You do not need to wait until you reach your new country to begin your new life; already it has begun, for you see I have adopted you into my family. I have written it down and signed my name. You are my daughter. I have a surprise for you, Mai. I have a new name for you and when I come for you I will whisper it in your ear.” The letter ended with a promise that soon they would be coming to take her home.
Mai sat on her bed and took the pictures of the people who were now her family from the envelope. Tears filled her eyes and suddenly she picked up the pictures, the letter, and even the envelope, and clutching them to her chest she ran to the window and looked out across the property of the orphanage, and she smiled. Nothing appeared different yet everything had changed. She was part of something bigger than Mingshaw Orphanage. It stretched across China and across a big ocean to another land. She was no longer an orphan, she was a daughter.
The months that followed were filled with excitement, anticipation, and packages. Mai’s family sent her small toys, books and clothes, and they often included small gifts for her friends and even for her housemother, Shesu. Mai loved the letters tucked into every package. She hung on every word as Shesu read them to her, and at the end of each one her father wrote a special message just for her, his daughter, and always ended with the assurance that soon he would come for her. A funny thing was happening to Mai; as time passed the orphanage no longer felt like home--her home was in another country and she longed for it. Each morning she woke up and wondered if this would be the day they came for her.
It was spring and a gentle rain patted against the window, and Mai stood with her face pressed against the glass watching intently. The room behind her was alive with activity as other children who also were meeting their new families played, but Mai didn’t want to miss anything so she stood and watched. A squeal of delight suddenly escaped her as she saw two familiar figures on the sidewalk outside. Though she had only seen images, she knew them. Her new parents entered the room and were welcomed by the director, and as instructed, Mai waited for the director to motion her over so she could make the introductions.
The director turned her gaze toward Mai and nodded, and Mai began to walk in their direction; but as she neared, the one called father knelt down and opened his arms to her, and smiling said, “Daughter.” That’s all he said, and Mai flew into his arms and melted into his chest, and then her mother joined in the embrace and the room disappeared, and it was only Mai and her family. And then just as he promised, in a gentle voice overflowing with emotion, Mai’s father whispered into her ear a single name, “Elizabeth.” Two weeks later Elizabeth Mai Hart sat in a seat between her mother and father as the jumbo jet sped down the runway, and she sat up tall and looked out as the airliner left the ground, leaving behind the old, and before her lay all that was new.
The car pulled into the circular drive, and Elizabeth looked out the window at the house nestled in the pine trees. There were birdbaths in the yard and birdfeeders hung from a few of the trees. A squirrel chattered noisily from its lookout on top of one of the feeders and Elizabeth giggled as it scurried up the tree and disappeared among the branches. There were wildflowers that were almost as tall as she was, and butterflies joyfully fluttered from one bloom to the next. Her eyes danced with wonder as her attention was drawn back to the house. She glanced at her parents, and with smiling faces they beckoned her to follow them inside her new home.
She was speechless as they explored each room. When they arrived at the last room, she recognized it right away from the many pictures they had sent. She walked through the door, eyes wide with wonder. The walls were a very pale shade of green and the bed was adorned with a green and yellow patchwork quilt that her mother had made for her. Her mother opened the closet and Elizabeth stood looking at the new clothes that hung there, just her size. She looked at the bookcase and the game shelf, and then slowly walked to the writing desk where a journal and pens and pencils and colored markers lay waiting for her to write of her new life. Standing next to the journal was a picture of her mom and dad holding a picture of Elizabeth the day they learned the adoption was approved. She reached out and gently touched the frame and then looked at the large picture window that looked out over the garden. She was overwhelmed. She turned to her parents as a large tear slid down her cheek and her father immediately bent down and asked what was troubling her. She threw her arms around his neck and whispered, “Baba (daddy).”
Evening found the little family holding hands at the dining room table and Elizabeth watched her parents as they closed their eyes and her father prayed. Elizabeth had a good appetite and ate her fill of the wonderful food, and she listened to her parents talking, and she would occasionally chatter in Chinese. She pointed to each dish and they told her the names of the foods they were eating, and she did her best to repeat after them. They laughed when she wrinkled her nose at the spinach, and her father wrinkled his nose, too. Later they sat in the living room playing a game called Sorry, but her head began to nod and her eyes closed, and so her father picked her up and carried her to bed. They stood for a long time looking at her sleeping so peacefully. Their daughter was where she belonged, in her father’s house.
Elizabeth was home-schooled and a fast learner. It wasn’t long and she was speaking English quite well. Her favorite subject was reading. She loved her parents and enjoyed to the full all that her father provided for her. Elizabeth grew and thrived in her father’s house. She lived each day with confidence and full assurance in who she was and to whom she belonged.
One late, chilly November afternoon, Elizabeth and her friend, Abigail, who lived up the road, were sitting in an apple tree pretending it was part of a magical kingdom. It was getting dark and they saw Elizabeth’s father come out into the driveway calling her name. Elizabeth started to climb down the tree when Abigail pleaded, “Oh, don’t go.” Elizabeth never hesitated when her parents called, she always responded right away. Why wouldn’t she? “I have to go,” Elizabeth said, emphatically, “My dad is calling me.” Abigail argued, “He’s not your real dad.” “What?” Elizabeth asked, uncertain of what her friend was trying to say. Abigail went right on to explain exactly what she meant. “You are just adopted. You don’t really belong to them. Everyone knows that. My brother Timmy said that sometimes adopted kids get sent back to the orphanage if they aren’t good.” Abigail’s mother came out just then and Abigail scurried down the tree and went home, leaving her wounded friend behind.
“Elizabeth!” Her father called more firmly this time. Elizabeth climbed down the tree and her father met her at the end of the driveway. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer as he continued, “You left your bicycle in the driveway. I nearly ran over it when I came home from work. Are you supposed to leave it in the driveway?” he finished. She began to shake her head in response to him but as they entered the house they heard her mother call out from the backyard, “Elizabeth Mai Hart!” Elizabeth began to worry, as it was never good when Mother used her full name. Her father opened the back door and went out, and Elizabeth walked very slowly outside in the direction of her mother’s voice.
Her mother was standing in the flower garden, or rather where the flower garden used to be. A few feet away were pails and shovels where she and Abigail had been attempting to build an imaginary castle. They had trouble getting the dirt to stay put, so Elizabeth had turned on the hose so they could get the dirt wet and it would hold together better. But Abigail said she saw a rabbit at the side of the house, and so they had run after it, leaving the running water behind. They had decided to climb the tree to see if they could find the elusive rabbit, and that’s when they started playing imaginary kingdom. The forgotten water had flooded the garden. The bulbs her mother had planted for spring were submerged, and some had no doubt washed away. Elizabeth stood before her parents guilty as charged, desperately trying to think of a good reason for her forgetfulness, but unable to think of any she just stared at the ground.
Breaking the silence her father said, “Elizabeth, please go inside and get cleaned up. We’ll talk about this after dinner.” Elizabeth left her parents behind to deal with the water and mud and went inside. As she closed the bathroom door behind her Abigail’s words flooded her nine-year-old mind, “…adopted kids sometimes get sent back to the orphanage if they aren’t good.”
She began to worry and fear crept into her heart. She remembered what happened just last week when she and her mother had stopped at her father’s office downtown. Her mother had asked her to run in to give an envelope of important papers to her dad that he had forgotten at home. She had taken the elevator to the third floor and was headed to her dad’s office when a man had stepped between her and the door and told her she could not disturb her dad, he didn’t have time to see her. The man had taken the envelope from her hand and sent her on her way. “He’s not your real dad.” Abigail’s words played over and over in her head. As Elizabeth stood looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror she no longer saw Elizabeth Mai Hart, daughter. She saw Mai Diannuo, orphan.
She left the bathroom and went to her bedroom, and still covered in mud and dirt she closed the door. Abigail’s words were shouting through her mind now as she looked around the room. She suddenly felt so out of place. She went to the closet and turned on the light and crawled on her hands and knees to the back corner until she found a large box. She dragged the box out of the closet, removed the lid and began going through it until she found what she was looking for.
She hesitated a moment but then made her decision, and carefully removed the clothes her dad had bought her on a special father-daughter date just last month, and folded them carefully and laid them on the bed. She then put on the clothes from the box. The shirt was too small and no longer went all the way to her waist, and the pants were too short and she couldn’t get them buttoned. But she didn’t care that they no longer fit, and then stuffing her feet into shoes that were too small, she crept out into the hallway and then out the front door; the very door she had entered clothed as a daughter, she now exited clothed as an orphan and disappeared into the darkness.
Mai walked as quickly as she could, frustration, worry and fear choked her and tears spilled down her cheeks. She was uncertain how long she had been walking when she realized the familiar things of home were gone, and she knew beyond a doubt that she was lost. She kept walking until she came to a cluster of trees, and just on the other side came to a campground. It appeared to be empty and she took a seat on a park bench. Her feet hurt and her old clothes were uncomfortable, the pants were cutting into her waist. She shivered and she thought about her parents and wondered what they were doing. They were probably eating dinner. After dinner they would sit in the living room and drink hot cocoa and play games in front of the fire. She loved to hear the logs crackle and pop and watch the way the flames danced and changed colors.
She closed her eyes and could see her dad’s face. She loved the way his eyes got all crinkly at the corners when he smiled. But Abigail’s words pushed their way to the front of her thoughts and shouted at her, “He’s not your real dad! You are an orphan and orphans get sent back when they are bad.” She shivered and pulled her knees to her chest in an effort to get warm. Her stomach growled, and looking around she spotted something on a table a few campsites away. She got up and walked over and found remnants from a picnic. She picked up a dried piece of bread and put it in her mouth. It was stale but at least it was food. She found a few more pieces of stale bread and put them in her pocket for later and returned to her place on the bench. She curled up in a ball on the bench to keep warm and fell asleep, unaware that someone had left the warmth and comfort of home to look for her.
She did not hear the footsteps draw near or the sound of the broken heart of a father as he watched his beloved daughter shiver in the cold on a campground bench. He gently wrapped a blanket around her, and as he did, something fell from her pocket--pieces of stale bread. Pain filled his father-heart and tears spilled from his father-eyes, as he knelt by the daughter for whom he had sacrificed much and traveled across the globe to make his own. She had turned away from his abundant provision and chose for herself instead a place of discomfort, cold, stale bread, and orphan’s clothes.
As he knelt there, the love that gave all to make her his daughter, the love that sent him a world away to bring her into his presence, to make her his own, filled him and he spoke the words of a father; words written in a letter that proclaimed a father’s love. “Dear daughter,” he whispered in her ear. “How good it sounds to call you that, though now you are loved from a distance, soon you will be drawn near. You do not know it, but my thoughts of you began long before this letter was written. You do not need to wait until you reach your new country to begin your new life; already it has begun, for you see I have adopted you into my family. I have written it down and signed my name. You are my daughter.”
As he spoke she opened her eyes, and as the words he spoke filled her heart, they overcame the words of defeat and doubt that had caused her to turn away from a father’s love. She believed his word. She believed his father-ness. She knew then that Abigail’s words, or the man at the office, and even her own failings, could not keep her from her father’s love. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and as he lifted her once again from the ground of fatherlessness and held her near she heard the heartbeat of a father’s unsurpassed love and she whispered into his ear “Baba” (Daddy),” and he carried her home.
Dear one, I cannot tell you the number of times I have found myself looking in the mirror and instead of seeing me, the daughter, I see the orphan. I drag out that box from the musty corner of the closet and before I know it I have shed the clothes of blamelessness and holiness that the Father gave me, and find myself pulling on the clothes of my orphan days. Funny thing is, I’ve grown since then and they don’t fit me anymore. But there I am, jumping up and down trying my best to squeeze into those pants of world conformity, and doing my best to button that shirt of shame, and squeeze my feet into worry and fear, and I sneak out the door that I entered as a daughter and I disappear into the darkness clothed as an orphan.
I’ve run in those uncomfortable clothes until the familiar things of the Father can’t be seen by my orphan eyes any longer and I end up on the campground bench. I’m hungry, and instead of dining on the feast that the Father has prepared for me, I dine on stale bread and even stock up for later. I am thankful to say that as I spend time in His presence and walk through my days with Him and take in the food of His Word, a wonderful thing has happened. Just as healthy food nourishes my physical body and keeps my hearing and vision sharp, His Word nourishes my soul; it sharpens my spiritual hearing and vision, and as He does His work in me I see myself through the eyes of my Father more and more.
Sound familiar to you? Do you recognize your “orphan” tendencies? Have you found yourself shivering in the cold curled up on a park bench in the darkness, with nothing but stale bread in your pockets? Dear one, do you hear it? The footsteps of the Father. Do you hear His voice? He speaks His wonderful Words of Fatherness. Listen to Him. “Dear daughter”, He whispers in your ear. “How good it sounds to call you that, though now you are loved from a distance, soon you will be drawn near. You do not know it, but my thoughts of you began long before this letter was written. You do not need to wait until you reach your new country to begin your new life; already it has begun, for you see I have adopted you into my family. I have written it down and signed my name. You are my daughter.” As you hear His voice and His life-giving Words penetrate your heart, open your eyes and wrap your arms around His neck as He lifts you once again from the ground of fatherlessness and cry out “Abba” daddy. You are His daughter.