Seeking beauty

As I was wooed by my Father this morning, I felt Him showing me the beauty He has created in me. Vanity was not on the menu, rather a beauty that is pure and refreshing. I kept seeing my hands and seeing the details and delicate parts of my fingers. The depths of design that are held within the smallest parts of us are made by Him, and He cares for each. This morning my heart melts in awareness that beauty is something to bring Him glory. If you live in my town, you have probably seen the acres of sunflowers planted by the interstate. I have seen so many posts about them, pictures with them, and can hardly keep my eyes on the road as I drive by them! We are drawn to beauty, and it isn’t shallow or negative. Beauty is given by God, for glory to God. It reminds us of His love for us! From the tips of our toes (yes, yours included!) to the flowers in the field. Beauty is part of who God is. Ask Him to show you the beauty around and in you. He designed it, and will proudly direct you <3

Seeking beauty

I lift up my eyes to the mountains...

It's morning as I type, and the snow is stirring in the clouds this morning. Thank you, God for gifting us with even the gushiest of snow and ice, because You birth it from the heavens (Job 38:29).

I wanted to share a simple statement that carries power to humble us, to change our view of ourselves and our circumstances. When I face an issue, big or small, it is my tendency to envelop myself completely in that cause. I struggle to get out, I struggle to see past blurred brain waves, and I exhaust in confusion.

I wrestle with God, and am thankful that he wrestles along. Allowing me to work out what's in my heart, calling me to not throw in the towel, and loving me wholly along the way. (BTW be encouraged that it's ok to wrestle, friends. It means you're pushing forward, you're giving effort, you're taking heart!) The thing about wrestling is, it cannot last forever. Not because lack of endurance or strength of our Almighty Lord, but because we are weak, we are lacking, we exhaust. That is the most beautiful part, the exhaustion, because it is there we see who has been sustaining us all along.

Last night my mind felt exhausted. As I opened up the bible to finish the so very calming, bed-time tragedies of Job.... I strangely found what it was I sought. After reading through Job's wrestling to hold on to God throughout one loss to the next attack, "the Lord spoke to Job out of the Storm" (Job 38:1), and beckoned him to remember who He Is.

 "Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb, when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped  it in thick darkness, when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, when I said, "This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt'?"
 - Job 38:8-11
                                   
The Lord's message continues for a couple chapters as God points to his strength and wisdom
throughout creation. His care and concern is even for the bear with its cubs (38:32). God called Job to lift his eyes out of what he was facing, and to God's magnificence, what was "too wonderful for me to know" (42:3).

It's strangely sweet how God works on our behalf, hemming our steps behind and before, and speaking across time and space as to let us know He was here and there before we had even breath to breathe. A sweet friend gave me Psalm 121 printed on paper and stuck with pretty washi tape as encouragement recently. I stuck that sucker on my dash, and have been reading it over and over throughout the past couple weeks....

"I lift up my eyes to the mountains-- where does my help come from? My Help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth...." When my original idea for a painting at my church was already in progress by another artist.. this message came to mind. For 7 hours I painted these words, and God pressed them in my heart last night. "Lift your eyes to Me," He calls us, loves.

Job's response was humility. He heard God's words, and excalimed "My ears have heard you but now my eyes have seen you" (42:5). He repented for speaking when he did not understand, and God blessed him. You see, I am trying to wrap my stubborn brain around the fact that I do not have to understand the inter-workings of it all... in fact, I cannot! Whether you're facing tragedy, attack, depression, ANYTHING... we cannot solve the equation, sweet ones. Only God can do that, and did! Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. He paid all we owe, he "figured" it all out on the cross, and we are called to lift our eyes, open our hearts, repent, and trust.

So let's start with the lifting, especially while we have some snow at which we can gaze <3

I lift up my eyes to the mountains...

If Phoebe wrote hymnals

Oh my long awaited Jesus

What grace that livens this sore soul

Morning glimpses of you carry

Me from fears and pains of old

Precious mercy, undeserving 

my soul will ever sing your praise

Through each suffering, you're refining

molding beauty from old clay 

Each new journey brings new glory

Each rough patch still prunes my praise

How could a canvas with out folly

Show your craftsmanship displayed

If Phoebe wrote hymnals

A peek into my journal

I was reading through my old journal from the past year, and I came across several entries that I wanted to share. I hope you find encouragement, and pray the holy spirit touches your soul with warmth, reminding you of the closeness and intimacy He shares with you! Rest in it, soak in it, and live out of it. Enjoy!

January 12, 2014
Tell me what tears your heart,
Speak what fills your mind,
What clenches your jaw,
Antagonizes your life?
Pour out your heart before me,
Let me be your closest friend,
One that lends an ear,
And stills your heart from within,
Nothing you say can move Me,
I am constant, and do not shift,
As you pour out your worry, your burden I will lift,
My arms open for you, daughter,
Rest your cheeks into my palms,
For you my face smiles,
For you, my heart longs

March 21,2014
Getting up with the sun,
Allowing what was to be undone,
Slipping on simplicity,
Holding fast to what you whisper to me,
The strongest, softest color sweeping over all I owe,
Knowing more, and being known,
The Glory of the morning

May 15, 2014
Open palms are my worship,
Open palms are my weakness,
Open palms lead to life,
An emptied fullness

July 28, 2014 with recent edit
I was her,
She was me,
Hidden, cloaked with daylight that no one might see,
From the arms of one, to the grip of another,
Though I tried to hide, my shame refused to be covered,
But this hand, reached my heart through the thickness of thwart,
This Life water I drank refused to remain in the dark,
These sin stained chains, they break, and I am bondage free by sweet Grace,
Daylight uncovered me, all, come and see,
I am not condemned, but awake

Thanks for reading :)

A peek into my journal

Oh Come, Let Us Adore Him

The words of this Christmas song have been so thoughtfully woven with a twist by the lovely Kari Jobe. They so tangibly reached out to my need yesterday afternoon, preparing my stubborn heart for Christmas and paving the dry, cracked roads to worshiping. These lyrics became so precious after her revised intro, and I felt the tenderness as I joined, "Oh come, let us adore Him." I hope you join me, darlings.

You see, my heart grows tired of want. Longing for a perfection that will not come until heaven, discomfort had found me in my Ford Escape, driving to Target in the normalcy of yesterday morning. As I spoke my heart to the Lord, but mostly to myself (yes, I do that),  of wants and waiting, of tired and trouble (hardly), Jesus met me with a softening reminder. One the season lends, one that offered much relatability (yes, made up word).

"Countless days on a journey that led so far, endless nights they traveled to follow the star"

This first lyric drew my attention in. This feels endless, this feels far, I thought as I turned up the volume with intent. I imagine the wise men and shepherds thought the same thing as they traveled as the song states. Without a clue where they were going, and quite possibly with several nicks and stumbles along the way. I imagine that the 400 years prior of silence from God felt vastly larger, vastly longer, and deeply confusing. I am sure now, that I do not always get it, understand, that I have no clue where I am heading, and that I have definitely doubted along this path.

But I am even more sure that the birth of a baby changed every inkling inch.

The past, at the time - present, and reaching me all the way here in the future. This baby thing, this baby boy, this Jesus King, he changes us, loves. He exceeds time, and space, and wonder, and is everything we hoped for but nothing we expected. He is. HE is.

"They did not find a palace, just a humble village home, and searching for a king, but finding a child, no crown. no throne."

And as I recall times in my life, I am so thankful that Jesus was not what I expected. I am so incredibly, insanely ecstatic that his thoughts are not my thoughts, and his ways are not my ways.

"Still they bowed down....

Come let us adore Him."

Oh Come, Let Us Adore Him

Who do you call Him?

The Light Life some say, The Bear it No More,
The Close to the Sinner, The Lover of Whores,
The Shake Off Your Shackles, the Come Follow Me
some even say he's Redemption is Free,
Water that Lives, and Peace Poured on Wounds,
Messenger, Counselor, Bearer of Bright News,
The Giver of Grace, The Word in the Flesh,
The One Brave Enough to Journey into My Mess,
Provision Provider, Better Adam, and Love
Forgiveness Forbearer, The One Who has Come,
Sin Savior, Heart Freer, Payer of Blood,
A Baby, A Man, The One True, Holy God,
My Jesus, My friend, My Here, and My Now,
My Past, My Reward, My Solid Rock, My Firm Ground,

Who do you call Him?

Poetry Corner with Phoebs :) "Shaking Shackles"

This unexpected turbulence,
its pace no present to find,
this chaotic contribution,
controlling patterns in my mind,
thrown by distant sorrows,
tossed by past times,
but You meet me in my muck,
You stand white while knee deep in mire mine,
You don't let go, you say you won't,
when I know I'm sinking deeper,
You don't let go, I know you won't,
as the hope you lend sees clearer,
this pit, you see, has not swallowed me,
instead I'm owned by grace,
each day remind, by those things I am ill defined,
these shackles, through mercy, I shake

Poetry Corner with Phoebs :) "Shaking Shackles"