The throb of the heart of God is that we would know and experience Him more fully, more intimately, more powerfully in our redeemed humanity. And that we would know the limitless dimensions of His passion for us.
To that end He came.
To that end He died.
To that end He calls us each day as we rise to be flooded and overwhelmed with all the abundant fullness of His life and love.
My heart throbs to know and experience Him more fully, more intimately, more powerfully in my redeemed humanity. And to be overwhelmed by His unshakeable, unspeakable, tender love for me.
To that end I rise each day.
To that end I lay down my life, let go of my idols, and give Him my heart.
To that end I walk and live in Him so that He can walk and live unfettered in me.
Author Archives: Pam Teschner
Healing Garden
Last week was difficult. As Americans we celebrated our independence, but, as a fragile human, I was deeply reminded of my utter dependence on Christ and of His absolute control of the details of my life. That’s a good thing.
On Monday, my mom was transported to ER and admitted to the hospital. This has been an annual or biannual event for the past few years. However, this time they discovered other problems and on Thursday she was put on hospice care. Shocking. Lots to absorb and process. But God’s orchestration and His gentle blessing has become so evident. He really does direct our paths and each step along the way.
When life is humming along at the usual speed and the journey is smooth, I sometimes forget He is near…very near. I actually think I’m in control, and actually try to be. Somewhere inside of my fallen humanity I think that because I’m not paying attention to Him, He’s not paying attention to me. How ostrich-like. How ridiculous. How sad that I would think so little of Him.
That surprising Thursday, I found my way to the Healing Garden and sat and turned my thoughts toward my loving Lord. As I pondered Him and listened to Him, He spoke into my heart and I penciled this in a little pocket journal:
July 5, 2018 Good Samaritan Hospital, Corvallis Healing Garden Live life with Me. Let me live My life in you. Free My Spirit by trusting Me. Yield to My Sovereignty. Stay connected. Stay close. Show up and spend private time with Me. Walk with Me as with a comfortable friend. You long for this deep in your bones Because I long for it more deeply than you can fathom.
Hallelu Jah!
I recently listened to the song, Hallelujah, by Casting Crowns and was struck by the artistic weaving of hallelujah into the unfolding story of God from creation, to redemption, and His second coming. The word literally means, Praise you Jehovah (Hallelu Jah).
Hallelujah was in the first ray of light exploding the darkness and in the first heartbeat of humanity. It was the song the morning stars sang together, and the shout of angels.
From a vantage point 2000 years removed, I can’t comprehend a depth of mental anguish that sweats blood or the horrific brutality of the scourging and crucifixion of Jesus. But a quiet hallelujah issued from the drops of redeeming blood and wells up in my heart ravished by such unfathomable love. Praise you Jehovah.
Hallelujah echoed off the walls of the empty tomb and in the trembling hand of Thomas touching the scars of the risen Christ. It burned in the hearts of two men on the road to Emmaus and spills from the redeemed.
One day the trumpet will sound and every eye of the living and the dead, even those who pierced him, will see him. He will come riding on the clouds shining more brilliant than the sun. All the people over all the earth from Alaska to South Africa will see him and will fall on their faces. On that day, the feet of Jesus Christ will stand again on the Mount of Olives, and the mount will split it in two from east to west. Heaven will roar in mighty peals of hallelujah thunder for our Lord God Omnipotent reigns! Hallelu Jah!
Praise the Lord. (Hallelu Yah)
Praise God in his sanctuary;
Praise him in his mighty heavens.
Praise him for his acts of power;
Praise him for his surpassing greatness.
Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
Praise him with the harp and lyre,
Praise him with timbrel and dancing,
Praise him with the strings and pipe,
Praise him with the clash of cymbals,
Praise him with resounding cymbals.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord. (Hallelu Yah)
Psalm 150
Take 5 minutes and 19 seconds to enter the hallelujah. Click Skip Ad, turn up the volume, feel the rhythm and flow of the story, and get caught up in HALLELU JAH:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fORhnYILTSo
Billy
Joseph Stowell[i] tells a story about a conversation he had with Billy Graham who was eighty at the time. He and his wife were seated next to Dr. Graham, at a dinner for the staff and board of Billy’s organization. As the meal was finishing he leaned over and asked Billy the question he had hoped to ask all evening and described it this way:
“Wondering what he would say about his highest joys in life, I asked, ‘Of all your experiences in ministry, what have you enjoyed most?’ Then (thinking I might help him out a little), I quickly added, ‘Was it your time spent with presidents and heads of state? Or was it…’ Before I could finish my next sentence, Billy swept his hand across the tablecloth, as if to push my suggestions onto the floor. ‘None of that,’ he said. ‘By far the greatest joy of my life has been my fellowship with Jesus. Hearing Him speak to me, having Him guide me, sensing His presence with me and His power through me. This has been the highest pleasure of my life!’
It was spontaneous, unscripted, and clearly unrehearsed. There wasn’t even a pause. With a life full of stellar experiences and worldwide fame behind him, it was simply Jesus who was on his mind and on his heart. His lifelong experience with Jesus had made its mark, and Billy was satisfied.”
I grieve for our loss of a great man of God. An era has ended, but the same Spirit that filled and empowered Billy Graham, fills and empowers me and everyone who has received Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. Thus begins the sweet adventure into the depths of knowing Him more fully, more intimately, and sensing His presence day after day, year after year. It is simply Jesus becoming more real in me and through me.
Imagine all the people in heaven who are greeting Billy right now, and imagine his joy when he looked into the eyes of Jesus. I know there was instant recognition and a continuation of the conversation he was having with Him before he breathed his last, picking up where he left off. Well done, good and faithful servant.
[i] Stowell, J. (2002). Simply Jesus. Sisters, Oregon: Multnomah Publishers, Inc.
Brush of Glory
There are places and times when the hungry soul is so staggered by God’s majesty that she feels His beauty deep in her bones. It changes her from the inside out, her face shining with the brightness of His face, her life becoming more and more beautiful as she becomes more and more like the One she adores.
My frail earthen vessel is filled with the transcendent Glory of the Eternal Majesty. The core of my innermost being contains the uncontainable God. He chose this vessel as a personal dwelling for His Name and inscribed Yahweh upon it. He is both infinitely beyond my highest thoughts and infinitely closer than the marrow in my bones. Such is the deepest mystery of heaven and earth.
“…the absolute glory of God is revealed in Jesus as absolute love, and we can only be brushed by it. Nevertheless, we are made for that which is too big for us. We are made for God, and nothing less will ever satisfy us.”[1] So, my soul longs to know Him more and trust His love for me.
In my pursuit of knowing the shining One within, I come face-to-face with Jesus Christ, the image and glory of Yahweh. Even when my surroundings are dull or grievous, He floods this clay vessel with an intensity that would burn the eyeballs out of my head but is sweet to the eyes of my heart.
A brush of His glory is overpowering, overwhelming and undoing. Even a fleeting glimpse of the blinding trail of His passing glory reduces my intellect to speechless wonder and buckles my knees. The proclamation of His Name – His ever present utter goodness and tender compassion – shakes the foundation of my very soul. My mind falls dumb and my mouth cannot express where my spirit soars, carried into the heights and depths of the incomprehensible uncreated limitless One.
So, I’m drawn into the secret grotto of my soul where He has written His Name, and stand in the light of His glory. Sometimes I stumble into the secret place half awake and distracted, but He shows up every time bathing me in His light even if my mind is dark with self-preoccupation. And it still changes me.
LORD, show me Your glory, take me into the secret grottos of Your mystery. I ask for this grace and deserve none. But I cannot resist Your tug upon my heart and the ache you have put in my bones. I yearn to see Your unseen beauty and know the unknowable…to be ravished by unquenchable love and brushed by Your glory.
[1] Manning, B. (2000). Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God. New York: HarperCollins.
True Colors
I am approaching a significant milestone in the numbering of my years. My assumptions about this age in my younger days were completely inaccurate. Unexpectedly, I don’t feel like death is imminent or that I should purchase a walker and Life Alert. I’m able to get up without assistance, I still have all my teeth, don’t need a hearing aid, can load my kayak on top of my car and can remember my children’s names. Not bad.
In the past three months, I have been relentlessly pursued and badgered by Medicare plans, AARP, and funeral insurance through countless mailings and phone calls. I’ve begun to raise my voice in protest to the unsolicited callers. I’ve had to navigate the bewildering tortuous circuitous world of health insurance. Probably designed by younger people.
The view from this position on my life line is quite different from the view at the teenage end. Sir Thomas Overbury was right when he said that all beauty is but skin deep. And, I will add, that the depth of skin decreases with age.
Two weeks ago, on my regular Sunday visit with my mom at her assisted living apartment, I admired the spectacular fall colors of the trees and bushes in the surrounding yard and flower beds. One particular bush – a Dwarf Fothergilla – had a few remaining leaves that were a stunning red orange with yellow veins. I carefully plucked it and carried it home to paint.
Since my Botany class at OSU, I’ve been fascinated with the science of the leaf. During the young green working years of the leaf, the chloroplasts are busy producing food to sustain the plant. Then in the autumn, as the days shorten and the nights grow cold, the green chlorophyll disappears revealing the glowing yellow and orange pigments that were masked by the predominant green. The rich reds are produced only in the fall of its life if sugar is present in the leaf. No sweetness, no reds. So, the real beauty of the leaf lies hidden until youth begins to fade and its true colors are revealed.
In the fall, the grounds of the assisted living center glows with the beauty of many leaves. Living in apartments on the inside, are many “leaves” in the autumn of their lives. Most can’t see their true beauty, but God does. We look at the outside, but He looks on the heart.
I’m not ready for assisted living, but I hope, at this significant juncture in my life, my true colors are beginning to show through with the glow of His Spirit and a little touch of red.
This was a quick watercolor sketch in an attempt to capture the inner glow of the leaf and journal some thoughts and observations. It’s a significant departure from my usual style of attempted perfection and was quite freeing.