A few weeks ago, in the early morning hours, I whispered, Speak Lord.
And yet my heart faltered and the words died in my throat.
I wasn’t sure I could bear what absolute Holiness might say to me.
My weakness, inadequacy, and failure crept into my consciousness,
And the enemy pierced my heart with guilt and doubt.
Then the waters of my soul stirred with the voice of God…Do you trust me?
Hesitantly, I whispered, Speak Lord.
And while the words were still on my lips, He spoke…
My love for you reaches beyond the most distant dust of the universe
And beyond your greatest fears;
My compassion enters the abyss of darkness
And embraces your weakness and failure;
My heart yearns for you just as you are.
I AM with you.
I AM holding your right hand.
I AM your way, your truth and your very life.
I will do immeasurably more than all you can ask or imagine.
Trust Me.
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The Magnificent Wallowas
I gaped at the snowy peaks of the Wallowa Mountains this week for the first time and wondered why it took me so long to get here. Entering the land of the Wallowas is stepping into the presence of breath-taking majesty. The spectacular mountains rise nearly straight up from lush meadows creating a skyline of craggy peaks blanketed by evergreen forests. The dramatic vista creates a deep sense of awe and wonder. I asked a local woman if she ever stopped seeing them, and she said, “No, I’m amazed at their beauty every day.” The quiet beauty of this magnificent land in the northeast corner of Oregon breathes a serenity into the air and into the soul that ventures into this hallowed place.
My friend, Debbie, and I spent a day wandering through the nearby artsy community of Joseph enjoying its culture, heritage and soul. The bronze sculptures and good food were highlights, but there’s just something about the sauntering jingle of spurs from a couple of passing cowboys.
The second day, we took the tram up the side of Mt. Howard and stood on the top of the 8,150 foot peak. The air is definitely thinner at that elevation or I’m getting pathetically out of shape…or perhaps, both. The panorama is even more spectacular from the summit with peak after peak stretching into the distance. Silvery ribbons of melting snow rush down a nearby mountain and into Wallowa Lake.
A prevalent bird in the subalpine forest of the peak is Clarke’s Nutcracker. I saw several of them and did a little research on the bird and discovered another revelation of God. These birds feed predominantly on the seeds of the whitebark pine. They eat some and bury some for the long winter months. According to Keith Pohs in his book, The Wallow Mountains, A Natural History Guide, “Studies have shown that about one in three seed caches buried by the bird goes unrecovered, and these seeds often sprout into new trees. The bird’s ability to carry many seeds at one time and its tendency to bury them at the perfect depth for germination appears to be an evolutionary co-adaptation with the pine.” Isn’t God amazing? He orchestrates even the details of the Clarke’s Nutcracker food preference, the perfectly shaped beak to get to it, and the cone structure and reproduction cycle of whitebark pines. Amazing.
The great Wallowa peaks all point in unison to the heavens and silently shout the magnificent greatness of their Creator. Spending a few days here between these towering peaks and on top of one has given me a new perspective on dwelling in the shelter of the Most High and resting in the shadow of the Almighty. May I never stop seeing His beauty and being overwhelmed by His majesty – every day.
Grieve Well
The morning of April 18, 2017 was the morning that God had planned from eternity past to lift Dick Kearns from the bonds of his body and into the loving embrace of Jesus Christ. All Dick’s days, from conception to death, were ordained by God and written in His book before one of them came to be. His short story on this planet ended on that April morning, but the rest of his eternal story has only just begun.
Dick is the husband of Dixie, one of the 10 women I share life with. We’re called Heirborne, a worship band of all women, and we worship together, pray together, cry together and celebrate God together. We road trip around Oregon dragging sound equipment and instruments to various retreats and events and have a blast.
We’ve been together for more years than I can remember helping and praying each other through the struggles and joys of living of life. Even now, as I type this, one of us was just admitted to the hospital and the text messages of prayer are flying.
Dixie is one of the five vocalists of Heirborne and sings alto. The evening of April 18, she came to rehearsal as usual but grieving. We wrapped our arms, our hearts and our prayers around her. At Dick’s memorial service, we sang, I Will Rise, and, to the astonishment of everyone in the room, Dixie stepped onto the platform, stood front and center with Jamey and Marcy on one side and Rhonda and Denice on the other and she sang out her heart…
There’s a peace I’ve come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There’s an anchor for my soul
I can say “It is well”
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles’ wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise, I will rise
I don’t think there was a dry eye in the room. Mine certainly weren’t.
At rehearsal last Tuesday night, she brought a poem she had written and read it to us because she wanted us to know this man of hers whom she deeply loves. I asked if I could post it, and she, rather hesitantly, agreed. I pray that her grief and her hope touches that place in every heart that has known grief.
WHEN I GET HOME
By Dixie Kearns
Going off to work each morning,
Leaving you asleep, alone –
No goodbye or sad forlorning,
You’ll be here when I get home.
Driving home in dark of evening,
Knowing what awaits me soon,
“Is that you, hon? How’s your day been?
I’m sure glad you’re home!”
Weekend brings us both together –
Time to share our lives as one.
‘So good to be with one another,
Joining hearts in our church home.
Family loved and family needing,
Oft I leave to serve my own.
But my heart is always seeking
To come back to you at home.
You received a Godly vision,
Though its scope is still unknown.
You completed your great mission
And God began to call you home
Days of pain and days of suffering,
You endured a mass of stone.
No hope is medicine now offering.
You want just to be back home.
God is good and God is gracious.
My Love, if only I had known
How short was time and moments precious
‘Til Jesus came and took you home.
Now I drive in evening darkness,
Rememb’ring how your lovelight shone.
Up ahead I face great sadness –
You’re not there when I get home.
Loving you so long and deeply –
How to live now that you’re gone?
Memories surround me sweetly.
How I yearn for you at home!
Someday traveling will be over,
No more miles be left to roam.
Then I’ll finally see my Savior.
And you’ll be there when I go home.
Dixie is pictured with the rest of Heirborne on the Events page.
Song of the Soul
Sometimes suffering casts a heavy shadow over my faith and I wonder if God is still there and still cares. Sometimes it seems like He’s on vacation sipping ice tea in some remote corner of the galaxy and has forgotten about my struggles in the miniscule corner of the planet I occupy.
My humanity doubts when things are hard. Tied by the invisible bonds of gravity to the ground, I’m unable to see what lies beyond in the boundless dimension of eternity. Life is hard, people suffer, I experience loss and it seems like God has gone missing when I need Him most.
Asaph felt the same way when he penned Psalm 77. He cried out to God in a time of great distress and reached for Him in his despair only to find Him absent.
When I was in deep trouble, I searched for the Lord. All night long I prayed, with hands lifted toward heaven, but my soul was not comforted. I think of God, and I moan, overwhelmed with longing for his help. Psalm 77:2-3, NLT
The melody of Asaph’s mournful lament is familiar today – Have You rejected me, God? Has Your unfailing love finally failed? Have You forgotten Your promise to remember me? Have You given up on me? Have I finally worn out Your compassion and exhausted Your love? In a secret corner of our hearts, the same questions haunt us.
Then Asaph inserted a selah in the music – a silent pause to reflect and listen. As his overwhelmed spirit sighed in the pause, he picked up a quiet refrain issuing from the heart of God like the deep sustaining tones of a cello. Then lifted on the undercurrent of those rich tones, he began to recall the greatness of Jehovah.
But then I recall all you have done, O Lord; I remember your wonderful deeds of long ago. They are constantly in my thoughts. I cannot stop thinking about your mighty works. O God, your ways are holy. Is there any god as mighty as you? You are the God of great wonders! You demonstrate your awesome power among the nations. Psalm 77:11-14, NLT
Asaph’s circumstances didn’t change, but the song of his soul shifted from lament to hope and joy when he remembered the faithfulness of his God.
Jeremiah’s lament echoes the same despair turned to hope: The thought of my suffering and homelessness is bitter beyond words. I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!” Lamentations 3:19-24, NLT
In our days of difficulty and distress, when we think God has left us to sort it out on our own, He waits for us to pause and remember. Then, in the selah, we pick up the rich sustaining tones of His greatness and power. The warm resonance of those great strings sing of His goodness and love. This love is unaffected by our failures and doubts. His attention and affection do not ebb and flow with our circumstances, our needs or even our response or lack of response to Him. His compassions never fail, and His loving embrace never loosens. From His song, lament turns to hope and hope to joy. Perhaps the deepest joy follows the deepest lament.
Secrets of Psalm 139
To hear it: Secrets of Psalm 139
Lord, You have searched me and you know me.
You till and sift the soil of my soul,
And peer into the innermost secrets of my heart.
You know the raw me, and you still love me.
You know when I sit down and when I stand up;
You perceive my thoughts from afar
You know my thoughts before they occur to me;
You’ve known them from antiquity.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
You are intimately familiar with all my ways.
You see me rise in the morning and lay my head down at night
Throughout my day, even if I leave your path,
You will never leave mine
For where I am, you are.
You are closer than my skin for I am in You and You in me.
Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.
Before I utter a sound, you’ve already heard it.
You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.
You surround every inch of all that’s me.
You go before me with grace and behind me with mercy.
You guide me toward your heart and you redeem my past.
Such knowledge is wonderfully incomprehensible!
It’s too lofty for me to attain;
Too massive to wrap my mind around.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens and into the very birthplace of the stars, you are there;
If I make my bed in the utter depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn, and settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast
And will never ever let go.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,”
If a deep darkness of despair, fear and loneliness swallows my light,
Even that darkness will not be dark to you;
The night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you,
And it flees from your holy light.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb –
Weaving soul and spirit, bone and muscle, according to your perfect design for me
You sparked the beating of my heart and I am Your image bearer.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
When I was made in the secret place,
When I was woven together in the depths of the womb.
Your eyes saw my unformed body when I was a microscopic ball of cells.
All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
You picked the day of my conception and You picked the day of my death
You are Sovereign over all the days between whether many or few.
How priceless are your thoughts toward me God! How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— On the shores of all the Seas and the deserts of all the continents.
You sing over me as I sleep;
When I awake, I am still with you and will always be with You
For you purchased me with your blood, and I belong to You.
If only You would slay the wicked and destroy evil in the world.
But search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts.
See if there is anything in me that offends You and degrades Your sacrifice.
Search out any idol I value more than You and place above You.
Wash away all my inquity, cleanse me from my sin and purge every idol.
I surrender all I am – my heart and mind and body to You – I am Yours.
Be Lord of my thoughts, my desires, my life.
Lead me along the everlasting path, and, in your grace,
Give me more faith to trust You and follow You in obedience.
just be
July 25, 2016. I’m floating in my red kayak at the inflow of the Great Spring into Clear Lake, the headwaters of the McKenzie River.
The spring of clear ice cold water rises to the surface, fills the lake, and starts its journey down the mountain to the sea.
Sunlight through soft ripples of the surface create turquois lace undulating on the sandy bottom at the inflow of the spring.
On the opposite side of the lake, an underwater forest of ancient trees rise from the dark depths to just a few feet below the surface. Gliding over them creates a magical sense of flying above the trees. They dance in rhythm with the gentle ripples of the surface, their straight trunks bending and swaying in the refracted light.
Clear Lake was formed 3,000 years ago when lava from Sand Mountain flowed across the river creating a lava dam and backing up the water. The submerged trees that were on the original riverbank now stand in 120 feet of water preserved by the extreme cold and purity of the water. The lake and the trees were formed when David was king of Israel. Amazing.
Floating here, it strikes me that for all the years I’ve come to the lake and for antiquity, the crystalline water continues to rise to the surface and pour into the lake. It also strikes me that the lake has nothing to do with the process of infilling other than openness to receive its unceasing abundance. The Great Spring fills the lake then spills down the mountain nourishing everything along its path to the sea.
I took a book by Brother Lawrence to the lake and read while drifting in a warm summer breeze. I was struck by what he wrote, particularly being surrounded by the stunning beauty and tranquility of the lake (no motorized boats allowed). In a letter to a Reverend Mother, he wrote this referring to himself:
“You can judge what contentment and satisfaction he enjoys. Continually feeling within himself so great a treasure that he is no longer worried or uneasy about finding it, he is no longer suffering the pain of searching for it. He is entirely open to it and free to partake of it as he wishes.”[1]
I spent many years in the pain of searching for the treasure but couldn’t quite lay hold of it no matter how hard I tried or how good I performed. I struggled thinking God was waiting for me to finally discover His secret so He could pour abundant life into me. I yearned for it, and had fleeting moments of discovery only to have it slip through my fingers again and again.
Floating and relaxing on a lake full and overflowing, God reminded me again of His grace and the great treasure that wells up within me. It is an unceasing outpouring of His grace, not a response to my doings. He wants me to simply receive it by faith and rest in it…to just be. Then His grace flows through me compelling me to love Him and serve Him and empowering me to do what He calls me to do. Doing always flows out of being. Attempting to reverse this process will end in failure every time. I know. I’m well practiced at it.
The key is being entirely open to the unceasing flow of the life of God. There is just one thing that blocks the flow – my sin. Like spiritual debris, it clogs the opening and my life begins to stagnate and stink. Peace and joy dry up leaving my heart empty. But in a moment, with a breath of confession and repentance, sins debris is swept away and I’m again flooded with overwhelming contentment and joy.
It strikes me that, like the lake, I have nothing to do with the process of infilling other than openness to receive God’s unceasing abundance. He fills my life then spills down the journey of my life nourishing everyone along my path to heaven.
[1] Edmonson, Robert J. (1985). The Practice of the Presence of God, Brother Lawrence. Brewster, Massachusetts: Paraclete Press.