Moments in Grace

The first steps are always the hardest.  One foot, tiny chubby toes grip wood and push up.  Then the other.  And then standing.  So much work, so much fighting and struggling to finally get the small boy body upright and then... step, step, feet in a flurry of steps until .... a padded bottom hits the floor again. He giggles, and up he goes again pushing against the wood planks.  Pushing up, up, knees bent as if he might take off, soar suddenly into the air, fly instead of walk.  But he doesn't.  He falls.  Again.  Again he gets up.  Struggles for balance, teetering precariously.  Down again.  And watching this I think, "Does he know it will happen?" Does he know that one day he will walk and the struggle of this will be over?  This thing that sometimes seems so impossible, will become second nature, without thinking or trying these baby steps will become a run, a glorious dance. Watching this boy-o...

"But Mom, I don't want to do this job any more" "I know you don't." "I'm tired of this job.  Can't I do something else?" "This is the job I need done.  I need someone to do it.  I know you don't want to but this is what needs done." We were raking leaves, picking up the remains of the storm's destruction.  My daughter was tired and hot and frankly just not feeling like being a part of the clean up effort.  How many times have I said the same thing to God? God, I don't want this job anymore. I'm tired of this job.  Can't I do something else? And in my own words, I hear His.  My Heavenly Father gently reminding me that He still has a job that needs done. It's not the most glamorous job.  It's not the most posh or polished.  You don't get awards or rounds of applause for a job well done. It doesn't pay well, in fact it doesn't pay at all. But there are rewards.  In kiss...

"Look at those trees blow." The storm was rampaging into the backyard with violence. "How can they even stay upright, without just being ripped in half? " We stood watching the storm come with suddenness and force, the wind tossing branches and leaves in swirling madness.  "Deep roots.  That's why God makes them with deep roots." Because it's only the one's with the deepest roots that weather the storm.  In the aftermath, we see many without deep roots, lying broken, splintered remains.  And those without power and food and in sweltering heat don't weather the storm well either.  And when the storms of life blow we need deep roots.  Roots planted by the streams of water.  Water that gives Life.  Living Water.  Because it's only the Living Water that makes us thirst no more.  We drink and drink again and again but still we thirst.  And without that Living Water we get dry.  Like the trees in this nei...

We can never really know grace until we have been brought to the place of our own weakness.  Until we see through tear-stained eyes. Until brokenness has become what we are and what we live. Because until we are broken, we can't be healed. Until we see how sick we are, we won't drink the medicine that can save us from terminal soul-sickness. Until we know that we cannot trust ourselves, and the only trustworthy place is the place at the foot of a bloody cross. Strength and personal success are hinderances to the walk of faith, to the walk of humility, to knowing Him fully; because we can't know His strength until we know we are weak. The question is do we yet know it? Do we know how to live dependently on Christ and Christ alone? Or do we only know how to trust our instincts, our gifts, talents and abilities, our treasures of security and safety? Oh, how I fight with absolution everything that makes me appear weak, broken, less-than.  I want to be strong, I want...