Heaven's Author

I have a passion for reading books. I have always loved to read. I have fond childhood memories of pulling the covers over my head, switching on my flashlight and reading the newest Nancy Drew mystery late into the night. All these years later I still can be found in the wee hours with my booklight illuminating the words of my favorite authors. Did you know that the Lord also has a love for books? As a believer, I have read in God's Word about the book of life and on its pages are written the names of each dear one belonging to the Lord. But this morning as I read Psalm 56 I came upon another book the Lord has - a book I had never before heard about. Psalm 56:8 says this: You have taken account of my wanderings; put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book? (NASB) The Lord and I had a conversation about it this morning.

I sat down at the well feeling a bit distracted. "What are you thinking about?" His voice startled me and I jumped a bit as my heart sat down at His feet. "I am sharing my testimony today," I said quietly. "By video," He added with a smile. Of course He would know all about video, I thought to myself. "Why are you worried?" He asked. I sat quietly, struggling to put my worry into words, but my insides were in a big knot and the words seemed to be flying around wildly, and I wasn't able to grasp any of them long enough to put even two of them together. Then I got nervous as I became even more aware of His presence waiting there for me to answer. My heart peeked up at Him just as He stretched one of His arms out and I caught sight of scars going up His arm. We talk a lot about His nail-pierced hands and feet, but we forget how severely beaten He was - unrecognizable the Golden Book says, so of course His arms would bear the scars of that beating. My heart now humbled bowed low at His feet and then He gently picked up my heart in His nail-pierced hands and opened His Book to Psalm 56:8 and He read it to me (time in His Word is always so much better when He does the talking.) "You have taken account of my wanderings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in Your book?" At the sound of His voice, the words that had been flying around in my head settled down and I shared my heart-thoughts with Him whom my heart loves. "Those days of wilderness wanderings are hard to talk about," I said. He remained quiet as I continued, "I feel afraid of what people might think of me," I finished. "Are you still in the wilderness?" He asked. My heart sat up and gazed on Him who gave all for me, as I replied, "No, Lord. By Your grace I am no longer in that desolate place." Then He did something wonderful as I felt His touch on my heart and then His voice filled the early morning air like many waterfalls as He combined Psalm 56:8 and 2 Corinthians 5:17 and He said to me, "Diana, I have take account of your wanderings. I have put your tears in My bottle and they are written in My book. Because of what I have done you are a new creation. Look, the old has gone and the new has come." My heart began to dance in His presence as I looked and saw the road the Lord and I walked together. It was full of beautiful things. I was no longer walking the dusty path of wilderness wanderings; I was dancing through paths of grace and splashing in the waters of Life. The fear left me, running off like a scared rabbit in the presence of the Author of Life - my life. Then my heart looked up and saw that He was holding my bookcover in His hands. It took on new color as He held it in His nail-pierced hands. My heart looked at His beloved face and I saw His eyes were dancing. I spoke so quietly that earth-ears would be unable to hear, but He who loves me hears every heart-whisper, "Lord, Conversations at the Well is such a gift from your heart to me. I...." I couldn't finish as tears of overwhelming joy spilled down my cheeks and He whom my heart loves gathered me up into His arms and held me in His presence until my heart stilled and worshiped Him there.

Dear one, have you wandered? Have you repented and shed many tears over your wanderings? Be encouraged, if you know the Lord, He has taken account of your wanderings; He has put your tears in His bottle and they are in His book. Glory!

An original conversations at the well by Diana Morgan

September 29, 2009

Conversations at the Well, Heart-to-Heart Conversations with God is soon to be released. Please join me in praying that the Lord will use it to draw people to Him for His glory. Amen.

Touch of Jesus

Jesus reached out His hand and touched… Matthew 8:3

The first day of the conference had gone long and it was after ten o’clock when it let out. We were tired and ready to head home as my sister Linda and I left the building along with several thousand other women. We chatted happily about the different speakers we had heard that day. As two hearts shared what the day had meant to them, a breeze stirred and the palm trees appeared to nod in agreement of God’s power and love.
We had been walking several minutes when Linda and I realized that things did not look familiar. We stopped and held a mini-conference and decided we were headed in the wrong direction, so we turned around and walked the opposite way. We were walking against the vast tide of other tired women who apparently knew just where they were going. It wasn’t long before we realized this way didn’t seem right either, so we proceeded to walk around the building trying desperately to remember landmarks we had seen some fourteen hours earlier when we had arrived.
We came to a stop and stood looking around for anything even vaguely familiar. I have had senior moments before, but never simultaneously with someone else -- it’s not good. Not only had we forgotten where we had left the car but also the all important rule that only one of us was allowed to have a senior moment at a time. We started walking again so as not to call attention to the fact that we had no idea where we were going. We began to feel a bit like the Israelites wandering about; only our desert was the Honda Center parking lot.
We were beginning to wonder if morning would find us still searching, but after a bit more wandering, we spotted a familiar display and recalled passing it that morning. With relief in our hearts we turned our steps toward the correct parking lot and our conversation back to the day’s events. We reached the car and in no time at all we were out of the parking lot. We laughed at the unexpected benefit of our parking lot wanderings; most of the cars were already gone from our section, and we had escaped the slow inch-by-inch journey to the gates. We got on the freeway unaware that we were part of something God had planned, and it was already in motion.
Time sped by as we talked and laughed in that special way only sisters share. We were minutes away from Linda’s house as we talked about how tired we were and glad we were nearly home. We headed down the hill and as we rounded a bend suddenly there was a car stopped and a man lying in the road and I shouted “Stop!” Linda pulled to the curb as we watched a young man kneeling next to the man on the road.
Linda called 911 on her cell phone, and as she was talking we watched in horror as a car came flying down the hill and for a moment we were certain both men were going to be hit, but the car missed them, the driver never slowing down or appearing to give a second thought to what might be happening. Linda lost the phone signal but had given our location before her cell phone went dead. She got out and headed into the street and I ran to the Well – you can always meet Him at the Well, you know, even at the side of the road.
“Lord,” I whispered, “please help us.” I looked up and saw Linda kneeling on the asphalt, one hand on the injured man’s back, and then she and the young man were trying to help him to his feet but he was unable to stand. I watched as Linda and the younger man wrapped their arms around the fallen man and he leaned on them and as they walked I thought I caught a glimpse of another Man in their midst, one with nail-pierced hands and fire in His eyes.
They got the man to the curb and helped him lie down and Linda came back to the car. “We need something to put under his head,” she said. As we searched the car for a jacket or blanket or anything we could use to place under his head, she told me his name was James. We were unable to find anything that would serve as a cushion for James’ head and as we turned to head back to James, Linda said, “He’s thirsty.” I remembered I had a bottle of water in my purse so, glad I had something to offer, I opened the bottle of water and handed it to Linda as we made our way back to the curb.
I knelt down on the sidewalk and looked at this man before me. He did not smell of alcohol, so he wasn’t drunk as we had first thought. I studied his bearded face as he drank the water. His eyes were blue and in them I saw fear and confusion. His arms, face and hands were scraped and he was bleeding. He was dirty and rather ragged, his long hair and beard graying and unkempt, and Linda asked him what happened but he wasn’t sure. At first he had said he fell down the embankment, but now he thought he may have been hit by a car. His hands trembled and his body shook and we wondered if he was in shock. He was wearing two wrist bands like those worn in a hospital, and we wondered if he had been in a facility of some sort but we were unable to tell what was written on the wrist bands in the darkness. The young man had found a t-shirt in his car and he carefully placed it under James’ head amidst assurances from Linda that help was coming.
I watched quietly as Linda rubbed his shoulder and touched his arm and talked with him in soothing tones of motherness. I turned as another car pulled up behind Linda’s and I got up to go see who was stopping. It turned out to be my mother and my Aunt Virginia. They had been to the women’s conference with us, were on their way to Linda's house where we would all spend the night, and (unnoticed by us), driven past the scene at the side of the road, recognized us, made a quick u-turn and hurried back to see what had happened. I filled them in on the situation and they waited with us and soon we heard sirens, and a moment later a fire truck pulled up.
The young firemen jumped off the fire truck, putting gloves on as they walked. Linda told them what had happened and they began talking with James. One of the firemen asked Linda if she had any disinfectant hand cleanser, and when she nodded that she did he told her to use it. Then he told us we were free to go. We told James goodbye and Linda assured him he would be okay now. We walked back to the car and realized then why the fireman had asked about disinfectant. Linda had been touching James and he was bleeding. Linda hadn’t thought about HIV or Hepatitis C – all she thought about was helping someone who was hurt and scared and obviously lost.
As we got in the car we could hear more emergency vehicles coming as sirens cried through the darkness. We pulled away from the curb leaving James behind, and we wondered quietly what would become of him.
Later as I lay in bed my soul sat down at the Well and I thought about James. James was someone’s son. What had happened in his life that brought him to this place of homelessness and aloneness? Did he have brothers and sisters somewhere? Was there anyone who thought about him or cared for him? “I think about him and I care about him,” a familiar voice said. My heart looked up as He who loves me sat down with me at the Well.
I told the Lord all about the events of the evening as though I needed to catch Him up on things, silly me. He listened carefully as I told him all about it. He didn’t try to rush me or tell me He already knew; He simply listened. He likes it when I tell Him everything that is on my heart. He took me to His Word and read to me from Matthew 8 and told me about a man who had a horrible disease called leprosy. When He read verse 3 to me my heart sat very still: “Jesus reached out His hand and touched the man.” We sat quietly and I remembered something my sister said after we had arrived back at her house. She had quietly said, “I really smell.” I thought of her wrapping her arms around James as she and the other young man had helped James off the street. I returned my thoughts to what He who loves me had just shared from His Word and a thought occurred to me just then: He must have smelled pretty bad sometimes at the end of a day of working among the sick, hurting, broken, wounded, and dying people He loved, and I knew He loved James too.
I sat very still thinking about the events of the day and then I wondered what would have happened if Linda and I had not become disoriented outside the Honda Center and had to hunt for the right parking lot. We would have been about thirty minutes earlier and I realized we would likely have missed James altogether. I turned to Him who loves me and asked, “Lord, did you cause Linda and me to lose our way so we would get to James at just the right moment?” His eyes danced as He softly said, “For you are My Father’s workmanship, created in Me to do good works, which My Father prepared in advance for you to do.” I recognized the words from Ephesians 2:10 and my heart sat up as the truth of those words sank deep.
My eyes grew heavy and I turned out the light and my heart remained still in the Lord’s presence, and as sleep drew near to carry me away I thought I saw a tiny corner of heaven open...and for just a moment I glimpsed His glory and then I thought I heard Him who loves Me praying – He does that, you know. I realized He was praying for James, and my heart smiled and nestled down quietly and I drifted off to sleep with His presence surrounding me, and His prayers for a man named James thundering through my heart.

You Are Invited

Dear Friends,

Has God ever sent you on an adventure so amazing that it takes your breath away. It's one of those happenings that touches your heart in such away as to leave you forever changed. My sister and I experienced such an adventure this past Friday night which is what I will be sharing with you tonight at Conversations at the Well. I had prepared 'Into the Deep' to share tonight but those of you who come to Conversations know that God changes my plans often. So, will you step out of the traffic, take off your shoes of busyness and join me at the Well of His Word. It never runs dry.

Conversations at the Well tonight at 7pm at my house. Call 567-9339 or simply respond to this post.

Worship

Inspiration

Time on your own with the Lord in His Word

Prayer

Bring: Your Bible, journal, pens, highlighters and other favorite quiet time tools.

Can't wait to see you.

Blessings,

Diana

567-9339

Into the Deep

Genesis 1:2 tells us that there was a darkness over the surface of the deep. But over the deep the Spirit of God was about to move; something amazing was about to take place. In Genesis 2:21 we find that God placed Adam in a deep sleep just before God moved and created the first woman. In Genesis 15:12 Abram fell into a deep sleep and a dreadful darkness enveloped him just before God spoke and revealed His covenant to Abram. In Jonah chapter 2 Jonah cries from the depths of the big fish that the deep surrounded him just before God used him to save an entire city. The deep, ever been there? We don’t like the deep. Our hearts can’t touch the bottom and we feel small, but Jesus calls us into the deep places. Step out of the shallows and join us for Conversations at the Well where we will explore the deep. Monday, September 14 at 7pm.
Diana
567-9339

Seasons of the Soul

“Mom, spring is officially here”. My daughter announced as we stood looking out at the birds in the backyard. Nothing looked different to me as I watched the birds at the feeders eating. I looked and looked but I saw nothing different that would indicate that spring had arrived so I asked, “How do you know?” She was quiet a moment and then said, “There, do you see it?” I shook my head as I strained to see what she so obviously did. She pointed to one of the tall clay pots that contained a desert plant and then suddenly a small bird came out from the pot holding in its beak a twig. Elizabeth smiled as she said, “That’s a Bewicks Wren and its building a nest; it’s spring. The wren repeatedly disappeared into the darkness of the pot and emerged with a twig each time and flew off to add it to its home; its twig treasure clutched tightly in its beak. We stood watching in silence and my inner thoughts wondered how spring could have arrived as winters chill hung about my soul. I turned and headed down the hall to the sanctuary of my room, longing for solitude.

I walked into my room a snow flurry following along as I closed the door firmly behind me. There alone in the winter of my soul my thoughts turned again to the little Bewicks Wren so intent upon its task of nest building. It didn’t seem to care that there were signs of winter still about or that there were dangers. My mind began focusing on all the mishaps that could befall this small bird, there could have been something lurking in the darkness of the pot or a hawk could swoop down and catch him unaware or a desert wind could rise and destroy what he was so diligently building; undoing all his hard work. Yet despite all the unknowns this little bird stayed focused on the task at hand; he was living in the springtime.

I sat in the quiet of my room and shivered as the chill within grew. The Bewicks Wren was outside working in the warmth of spring but I was engulfed in a winter depression I could not seem to shake. There were circumstances in my life placed there by another that at times rendered me frozen and fearful – it brought winter every time it surfaced and I feared this winter would never end. I closed my eyes, my emotions in tumult. My body is entering a new season as well…Perimenopause the doctor called it. My moods have more swings than Tiger Woods these days. And my birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. I usually enjoy my birthday, but not this year. This year it is something I dread; I’m turning 50. I sat huddled in my room playing worry on the big screen of my mind’s eye causing flurries of fear to fall in my heart and suddenly everything felt so hard – the once fertile soil of my soul seemed frozen as I scanned the terrain of my heart it appeared barren and desolate and I wondered if anything would grow there again.

As I descended deeper into this blizzard of fear and worry a knock penetrated my thoughts and my daughter’s voice called from outside inviting me to go with her to Joshua Tree to see the wildflowers. I started to say no; after all I was stuck in winter but a gentle prodding from an unseen hand pushed me toward the door and I agreed to venture out. I decided to pack a few things for the journey into a backpack: my bible, my journal, my ipod, a couple of devotionals and an assortment of pens and highlighters. Twenty minutes later Elizabeth and I piled into her car and headed down the road. We talked as we traveled down the 10 freeway and I wondered if she could see the snow falling on me or if she noticed that when I spoke frost laced my every breath. As we drove Elizabeth pointed out wildflowers that had popped up along the freeway – they didn’t seem to care that most of their audience sped passed them blind to their beauty, oblivious to their presence. But we saw them and my daughter called them each by name as we passed. It seemed in no time we made the turn off the freeway onto the Cottonwood entrance into Joshua Tree.

The two lane road meandered through the desert landscape and the harshness of the environment caused me to wonder if we would see any wildflowers in this place, how could anything possibly grow, let alone bloom in these conditions but as we turned a corner we were greeted by vast carpets of color; it was a scene so surprising and so breathtaking that we pulled over to the side of the road and got out.

As we walked among the blooms my daughter quietly said their names: Sand Blazing Star, Crypantha, Purple Mat, Arizona Lupine, Forget Me Nots, Desert Dandelion, Primrose, Desert Gold Poppy and Desert Star just to name a few. So many varieties; each unique and beautiful. We drove a little further and then pulled over again and hiked to some hills. Elizabeth headed off on an adventure of her own and I quietly walked admiring the rich hue of reds in the rocky slope and finding a flat boulder I sat down among the blooms taking it all in; my senses thrilling to the endless chorus of color. I was in absolute awe of what I saw.

A warbler landed in the brush nearby, singing a lovely song and I wondered how he could sing such a beautiful song in this harsh environment and I wondered how the wildflowers struggled through the rocks and emerged with such breathtaking color. “They bloom where they’re planted”, I jumped a bit at the sound of His voice. “Hello,” I said. “Hello”, He replied as He took a seat on a large boulder next to me.

I sat quietly looking at the rocky, sandy soil under my feet; I felt guilty because my times with Him had not been their best. I woke up often in the night and would grab my quiet time supplies but then I often sat staring off into space. Somehow I thought my times with Him should always be earth moving and deep but they were up and down like my emotions these days. I looked up at Him through the winter of my soul and whispered, “My heart is hurting”. “I know”, He replied. He didn’t say anything more, He moved in and I felt the warmth of His embrace and I could hear His heartbeat here in His garden as I looked around all the seasons seemed to collide in this place: the harshness of summer, the golden hews of autumn, the stark bareness of winter, and the songs and colors of spring. Here He was in the midst of it all and it came to me then that He is in every season; even the winter of my soul and I snuggled in closer to Him and closed my eyes. No words were needed, He simply held me near Him, embracing me in His presence.

I poured out all my heart thoughts at His feet then. He listened patiently as I cried and spouted childish fears of being 50 and of unending winterness. He didn’t laugh or tell me I was being silly; nor did He tell me to stop whining and get up; He simply listened. As I cried He wrapped me closer to Him, shielding me from the bitter winds that whipped up in my soul. I sat crying in the middle of that flower specked field and then He helped me get up and we took a walk through His garden.

We stopped at a single clump of purple flowers that appeared to be growing out of a boulder on the hillside. I wondered at this brave flower as it grew and bloomed with everything it had and who would see it? Who would notice it? It had struggled up through the hard, rocky soil with no apparent way through but the master gardener knew the way and the tender shoot had broken through the harsh surface, and appeared to be so glad to bloom right there where it was.

Knowing my thoughts He simply said, “El Roi”. This was a familiar name, though I had not thought of it in quite some time. I smiled and looked at Him as I said, “The God Who Sees. You see”. He nodded and continued, “Jehova Jireh”. “The Lord will provide”, I whispered. As we stood there looking at this beautiful bouquet in the rock it struck me that the wildflowers did not require tending by human hands nor did their blooms need human eyes to approve them or human lips to sing their praise, they took root and grew in the most unlikely of places at the touch of the Master Gardener and bloomed in the presence and at the bidding of El Roi, The God who sees and Jehova Jireh, The Lord will provide all that is needed.

I heard Elizabeth calling me and as I turned to go I found a note that my heart’s gardener had tucked into the corner of my heart, “Dear Diana, as you stand in my garden look at the flowers and remember that even Solomon in all his splendor was never clothed as radiantly as these. Remember I am the God Who Sees, and if I see each flower that blooms, every petal that falls, if I do all this for these that are here today and gone tomorrow, how much more do I see you, every smile, every laugh, every heart dance, every tear. I am El Roi, the God Who Sees, Jehova Jireh, The Lord will provide. I Am the great I AM, your heart’s gardener. I love you.” And as I read His words and looked out at the wildflower garden He had planted I felt sheltered and loved.

I am still in winter of the soul but I have taken a lesson from the Bewicks Wren, regardless of the season my eyes are focused on El Roi, the God Who Sees and I go about the task He has given me in this season of winter winds knowing He is Jehovah Jireh, The Lord who provides. He is here whatever the season providing all I need, tilling the soil of my heart with trials that will one day render blooms. In the meantime, I sit in His presence, sometimes reading and sometimes wrapped in the warmth of His presence but always knowing He is with me in every season.

The seasons serve a purpose on the earth and so do the seasons of the soul. We have times of dryness and times of fading and soft color and then we have the quiet stillness of winter and finally the songs and colors of spring.

Sometimes, especially when we are struggling we can tend to stay away from the Lord. As I shared I was struggling with my quiet times. I was waking up often at night but my heart was distracted with worry and fear. It’s easy to feel we can’t go to Him until we are back on track. We need to clean up first before we “Come”. That isn’t what Jesus said, is it? “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened. Are you weary? Are you burdened? Is the world around you in the full bloom of spring and yet you are in a winter of the soul? Jesus is whispering to you, “Come to Me.” You may feel like that isolated wildflower bouquet growing through the rock in Joshua Tree. Take heart, the Master Gardener knows the way, follow Him and stretch upward toward Him and bloom where He has planted you.

Deuteronomy 32:2 says this, “Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass like abundant rain on tender plants.”

I love this! Are you having heart hurts? Just tell Him. He knows. He was a man of sorrows. He knows what it is to hurt and ache. Remember, He was behind the stone of winter after the agony on the cross but God’s voice thundered and the stone of winter rolled away and the result: LIFE. So immerse yourself in His presence and in His Word and let it rain down in all the tender places, bringing life. Remember He is El Roi, the God who sees. Jehovah Jireh – The Lord will Provide and He is with you in every season of the soul.

An Original Conversations at the Well
By Diana Morgan

Rise Up And Walk

I will strengthen them in the LORD and in His name they will walk. Zechariah 10:12

Thomas ducked as the pottery grazed his hair before it hit the wall; the sound of exploding clay filled the tiny room followed by a heavy silence. Thomas stood tall and walked with purpose across the room to where his friend lay; he would not back down; he would not quit and most of all he would not walk away. “Is that the best you can do?” Thomas asked, knowing that perhaps he was pushing too hard this time. Their eyes locked: Thomas’ filled with determination; Jonathan’s smoldered with anger, resentment and bitterness.

Thomas looked out the window as he searched for words. Words that would stir his friend to life again; words that would knock down the wall he was so intent on building around himself. It was then he spotted a familiar figure walking with a group of boys following close behind him; it was their old rabbi. “Jonathan, I see the rabbi”. Thomas smiled at the barrage of boyhood memories that flooded his mind. “Jonathan, do you remember when we caught the lizard and it escaped during class and ran up Steven’s sleeve and he jumped up shouting in the middle of the lesson? I thought we were all going to be in trouble. But when the rabbi turned and spotted the wayward lizard a mischievous twinkle had danced in his eyes as though he too recalled such pranks as a boy and he continued with his lesson as though nothing had happened.” Thomas laughed at the memory as he continued watching the teacher walk with his students. “Don’t you remember that, Jonathan?” Thomas asked. But there was no response, only silence.

Thomas walked over and knelt beside his friend and looked into his eyes. The eyes no longer smoldered, the spark had left them and they were cold and dark without warmth without affection, without dreams, without hope. Panic and frustration wrapped in passion for his lost friend rose up within him and suddenly Thomas reached out and grabbed Jonathan’s right hand, the hand that could still move and feel and touch and he held it to his chest and bent low so that his friend had no choice but to see the intensity in his eyes. Then he spoke from a heart that ached for his wounded friend. The emotion in his voice was not masked.

“Jonathan”, Thomas began. “My friend from childhood, my constant companion, do you know the many times I have cried out to God on your behalf. How I wish I had been with you that day but wishing doesn’t make it so. I wasn’t there and for that I am truly sorry. My father and my brothers needed me to help them deliver stone to Jerusalem that day so I couldn’t help you lay the tiles on the courtyard roof until the next day. But you wouldn’t wait; you always were strong-headed. Why didn’t you wait for me?! When my father and my brothers and I returned that evening we learned of the accident.

A beam in the roof had not held and you fell. Your father told us how you did not come home for the evening meal and so he went to the building site to get you. He knew how driven you were and so he did not think anything was wrong when you were late; it was normal for you. He called to you as he approached the building and when you didn’t answer he stepped through the archway leading into the courtyard and that is when he saw you laying there with the beam on top of you and broken tiles everywhere. He ran for help and 9 men worked feverishly to remove the rubble. When they finally freed you they feared the worst as they lifted you out and carried you to the physician’s cart. But you were strong as an ox, my friend and your heart still beat within your broken body. I sat by your bedside day and night and talked to you. I was with you when you were told you would never walk again. It’s been almost 2 years ago now. Do you remember”? Jonathan didn’t respond; not a flicker of an eyelash, nothing. Just a cold stare as though Thomas wasn’t there; as though he had ceased to exist.

The muscle in Thomas’ jaw clenched as he fought to maintain control of his emotions and then he continued; his voice raw, “Jonathan, God gifted you with a great spirit and a keen mind, those are not dependent on your legs. We need you.” Silence was the only reply and Thomas could no longer hold back and he leaned in closer not wanting Jonathan to escape the fire he felt in his soul as he spoke, “Your heart was paralyzed long before your legs ever were. Look deep within your soul, Jonathan. You are fooling yourself. Your legs may not be able to carry you but your heart is still running and you cannot outrun God for He pursues you still; waiting ever patiently for you to turn your heart toward Him. Think on that my silent friend.”

Thomas fell silent trying to calm the anger that threatened to erupt from his chest. He always knew what to do in tough situations. He was a man with a plan and when he came to an obstacle he simply found another way but this; this wall his friend had built seemed impenetrable and for the first time in his life he felt utterly helpless and bereft of ideas. He needed some air so he squeezed Jonathan’s hand and as he stood he said, “I’m going out for a walk, I’ll be back in a little while.” Silence towered like a fortress and unable to bare it another moment he walked out into the mild evening air and a soft breeze ruffled his hair as he walked.

He shuffled along the dirt road like an old man; his heart heavy with worry and his mind fogged in by discouragement. He turned off the road and headed up the hillside behind Jonathan’s house and when he reached the top sat down on a boulder and breathed deeply of the clean air. Darkness was just beginning to touch the edges of the sky and he saw a light appear in the kitchen window of Jonathan’s house; his mother was lighting the oil lamps and was probably beginning to prepare the evening meal.

On the other side of the house out of Thomas’s view was Jonathan’s window and inside lay a man who was utterly broken and sobs shook his body. Jonathan lay weeping wondering if his friend would ever come back or would he be like everyone else and leave him; walk away and forget him. He had defined himself through his work and his quickness of pace and when those had been taken from him he was rendered worthless. The mighty Jonathan; the man others had to run behind to keep up with had fallen and disappeared from view. How had his life come to this place? This was not supposed to happen. He lay there and turned his thoughts back in time.

He and Thomas had grown up together. His grandmother had said they were joined at the hip and she was close to being right. They were never apart. Jonathan’s mother Miriam and Thomas’s mother Lois were childhood friends and when they married lived near one another and remained sisters at heart to this day and Thomas and Jonathan were closer than brothers. They learned the Torah together and they loved and served the Living God.

Thomas’s father made tiles for building and also harvested and hauled lumber. Both Thomas and Jonathan spent their teenage years working in that business. Thomas drew pictures of various buildings and learned about structure and Jonathan loved to build with his hands. They developed a plan to expand Thomas’ father’s business by designing buildings and Jonathan had a quick mind for business so it was decided he would oversee building. Steven, Phillip and Andrew who were close friends were also working with them.

Jonathan was larger than life with big ideas. He moved faster than most men thought and he prided himself on always being a few steps ahead of everyone else. In fact, he was often times so far ahead that he didn’t bother to consult the others before taking action; he simply plowed ahead. When the other men confronted him he smiled in that charming boyish way and told them to keep up. He was so driven that he often worked late and alone. No longer did he have time for picnics with family or lively discussions with friends; he was on a fast track to success and it was all he saw. One particular Sabbath as the sun was setting and the candles were lit and Thomas’ father began the prayer, Jonathan had blown in and hurriedly took his place but it was evident his heart was not there. The next day Thomas voiced his concern to his friend as he pointed out that he had even begun putting God to the side and allowed work to infringe on the Sabbath; Jonathan made an excuse to leave and as he made his hasty retreat Thomas called out after him, “even you cannot outrun God”. Then the accident…it did more than paralyze him, it took his identity and stole his life.

Now two years later Jonathan lay in the ever deepening shadows of night, the words his friend had spoken seemed to have a life of their own and they stood strong, beckoning his soul to get up from the mat and live but then fear danced out of the darkness and rejection and failure skulked in the shadows and his soul cowered and shrank back paralyzed on a mat of despair. Defeated and exhausted he drifted into a fitful sleep unaware that through the darkness he was being pursued and though he could not see it with his eyes the shadows that rendered his soul paralyzed had already begun to tremble at the approach of the One who commands shadows and so they dug in deeper to keep their grip on him and hold him captive.

Thomas returned and sat on a cushion on the floor in the darkness and listened to Jonathan’s troubled breathing. “Dear God, please show me how to help my friend and…” He didn’t finish his prayer as his battle-worn mind slipped away into a land of dreams. Voices pierced his dream-cloaked mind and then a bright light shown on his face; Thomas opened one eye and saw that the light was the sun shining thru the window and there were indeed voices outside. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stood up and stretched before walking outside into the morning and saw men talking excitedly and then noticed other people heading out of town toward Capernaum.

He approached the group of men with a cheerful greeting, “good morning my brothers, what is all the excitement about?” he asked. A burly man who had more hair growing out of his ears than he had on his head spoke in an excited tone as though he were sharing a prized secret, “Why, young man, we just learned that Jesus, the one they call Messiah has returned home to Capernaum. We are going to see him”, he finished and then he and his group headed off down the road. As Thomas stood watching them walk away he noticed a man and a woman carrying a child who was obviously sick and they too were heading down that same road and then it came to him, Jonathan needed to get to Jesus. But Jonathan was a big man, unable to walk and Capernaum was a good 2 hour walk if you were moving at a steady pace and didn’t stop.
Thomas stood perplexed and ran a hand through his uncombed hair as he thought. Jonathan can’t get to Jesus on his own so he will have to be carried. No sooner had this thought formed then his legs went into motion and he ran to gather Andrew, Philip and Steven; they were eager at last to do something for their friend. They walked into Jonathan’s room filled with purpose and each grabbed a corner of the mat so they could carry him. Jonathan made loud protests at being so unceremoniously removed from the comfort of his room and carried out into the daylight; his helplessness exposed for the world to see. But when his protests seemed to fall on deaf ears he soon fell into his usual silence and Thomas saw the shadow of despair descend upon his friend like a wild animal devouring its prey and he could do nothing to stop it.

The road was dusty, the air hot and they stopped for a rest and to drink some water but only for a moment and then they picked their friend up again and continued on. Heading into the third hour their arms ached and their legs longed to stop but they had to keep moving so they spoke words of encouragement to one another and shared memories of childhood days and they laughed and they cried and they bore their friend on a road of hope toward the only one they believed could reach him.

Their spirits lifted and their pace quickened as they entered the streets of Capernaum. They didn’t need to ask where to go to find Jesus; they simply followed the stream of people. But their spirits sank as they arrived at the house where Jesus was. It was completely surrounded by people – the crowd filled the house and spilled outside and the weary group of men not only could not get to Jesus; they couldn’t even get to the doorway. “What now?” Andrew asked.

Thomas stood staring at the crowd for a moment but then he noticed stairs leading up to the roof. “Come on”, he said. “If we can’t get him in through the doorway we’ll go through the roof”. They carried Jonathan to the rear of the house and were faced with a very narrow stairway. There was no way they could stand at the four corners of the mat and haul him up; there was only one way. And so Thomas and Andrew went to opposite ends of the mat and with groans of determination that came from deep within they lifted Jonathan above their heads and Philip and Steven ducked in underneath in the middle and so single file they carried their friend up the stairs to the roof.




When they got to the top of the stairs they set the mat down and surveyed the roof. It was a simple roof of clay tiles and straw. Andrew put his ear to the roof as he crawled around until he found the spot he thought was directly over where Jesus was teaching and they set about the task of making a hole in the roof large enough to get Jonathan thru. They were getting to the last layer of clay when Steven stopped his work and asked, “Once we get the space in the roof opened, how are we going to get him down there? We can’t just drop him.” Philip looked around momentarily but then his eyes lit up with an idea and he began ripping his tunic and the other 3 followed suit and soon they had fashioned four makeshift ropes, attached them to the four corners of the mat which they would use to lower Jonathan down.

They soon had the hole in the roof opened and large enough to fit both the mat and Jonathan thru and then they picked up the four strips of cloth and carried Jonathan to the hole and then they began to lower him slowly thru the opening. At first the angle prevented them from seeing anything down inside the house but as they lowered Jonathan down they saw the crowd looking up with bewilderment etched on their faces. There in the midst of the crowd also looking up was a strong looking man with bits of straw and clay in his hair and on his shoulders; that must be Jesus, Thomas thought to himself as he studied Jesus’ face.

He expected Jesus might be annoyed at being interrupted in the midst of teaching or that He would be frustrated to have roofing debris on his hair and clothes but Thomas saw no sign of any of those things in Jesus’ face. Rather there was a look that put him at ease; gladness. Yes, Jesus looked glad to see them as though He’d been waiting for them. Jesus stood looking up at these four friends. He saw past the dirt smudged faces, the torn tunics and the weary eyes; He saw their hearts; He saw their faith.

Thomas’ heart raced with excitement as they lowered the mat down to the floor; then his eyes found Jonathan’s and what he saw there stopped him; it was a fear unlike any he had ever witnessed and Jonathan was out of his reach. He had not thought this far ahead and he was suddenly uncertain what to do next. He looked up at the concerned faces of his friends as one by one they let go of the ropes until only Thomas still clung to the rope as though it were a lifeline to his childhood friend. His attention was drawn back to Jesus who still stood looking up at him, his eyes filled with compassion and understanding of the battle that was going on in his heart and then Thomas sensed that Jesus was beckoning him to let go; he had done all he could and now Jesus needed to do the work that He alone could do and so he allowed the fabric to slip deliberately from his hand and watched as all control fell in a heap at Jesus’ feet.

Jonathan looked up out of frightened eyes at his four friends as they lowered him from the roof; the once big man in town brought lower and lower until he found himself at the feet of Jesus. His physical body lay paralyzed on the mat but hidden from human eyes buried deep within him His soul lay motionless on a mat of depression, self-pity, bitterness, guilt and fear; unable to move, to rise, to live.

He was aware of all the eyes staring down at him. “Behold, the crippled fool”, he thought as that was how he saw himself every day. He felt uncomfortable; he felt as though his friends had betrayed him, lowering him down in this way, his weaknesses laid bare for all to see. A desire to retreat into the safety of inner shadow and darkness flooded him but as he began to do so Thomas’ words flooded his thoughts, “Your heart was paralyzed long before your legs ever were. Look deep within your soul, Jonathan. You are fooling yourself. Your legs may not be able to carry you but your heart is still running and you cannot outrun God for He pursues you still.” He chose in that moment to heed his friend’s advice and cautiously peered into his heart.

It had become a very dismal place, no passion or joy anywhere as he made his way he pressed past worry, fear, depression, bitterness, self-loathing and there at the center of all this emotion he saw it. It stood like an impenetrable fortress at his core; PRIDE. Pride had pushed him to be the best and to always be ahead, leaving loved ones and friends in the dust behind him. It promised him success, and it had put him on the roof that day as it whispered in his ear that he didn’t need anyone and after the accident its whisper turned to shouting telling him ever-louder that he could make it on his own. He needed no one; not his friends and not God and so it drove him deeper into darkness and despair. He had been in a violent inner struggle between letting others in and pushing away and suddenly he was so weary of it all. He remained silent on the outside but inside was a heart crying out.

He sensed Jesus looking at him and he tried to avoid eye contact but he became curious about this man who created such a stir and so he turned his gaze toward Jesus and wondered at this one, was He Messiah? As his focus changed from self to Jesus the shadows within him seemed to shudder. Then Jesus knelt there amidst the debris and with bits of clay and straw still clinging to his hair he spoke. His voice pierced the walls of his pain and went to the heart as he said in a voice as tender as any father, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”


The words Jesus spoke were like swords as they charged into his soul cutting thru the emotional walls he had built until they found pride’s fortress and struck it with a mighty blow and it fell with a thundering crash. Jonathan lay there forgiven with tears on his face as he realized he had stopped running.

Jesus’ command to Jonathan to get up and take his mat and go home thundered and a strange sensation of strength coursed through his body and he stood up. There was no shakiness of limb or trembling; he was whole. The crowd went wild but their celebration was nothing compared to that of four friends dancing on the rooftop. The five men left Jesus’ presence forever changed. And Jonathan walked, not ahead but alongside his friends on the road home, for he had indeed been pursued by God and He had met Him in the most unlikely of places; in a small house in Capernaum, in the midst of a crowd among the debris of his brokenness he found forgiveness and healing there at the feet of Jesus.

An original Conversation at the Well
By: Diana Morgan
May 2, 2008

My dear friend, are you paralyzed by life’s circumstances? Have you ever been carried along by the faith of your friends, right to the feet of Jesus? Perhaps you are such a friend to someone dear to your heart that is going in the wrong direction or lies battered and bruised, paralyzed on a mat of depression, bitterness, fear, regret. You may not physically be able to pick them up and carry them but you can lift them up in prayer and then give up control of the situation as you lay them at the feet of He who is able to bring healing and forgiveness. Perhaps you are flat out on a mat of your own. I encourage you to grab a piece of paper and pencil and draw a mat and then write those things that are rendering you paralyzed in your life; in your walk with the Lord. Maybe it is anger or resentment or fear, worry or depression or un-confessed sin. Don’t wait another day. Break away the tiles that are in the way and then look into the eyes of Jesus. Will you pour out your heart to Him right now where you are.

The Mother-Load (Elizabeth)

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 33 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 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
Pig tales 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 He 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 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