Shaking out a measure

The call came at an unexpected time and certainly from an unexpected person.  It was a call that screamed she cared.  And in the midst of a self-centered pity party that has gone on way too long, she shook me.

She made me think of just one year prior when we all went on retreat.  And we spoke of being shaken. 

“Give, and it will be given to you.  They will pour into your lap a good measure – pressed down, shaken together, and running over.  For by your standard of measure it will be measured to you in return.”  Luke 6:38 (NASB)

Even the house shook.  We felt it.  We commented on it.  None of us will forget the shaking.

We gathered pearls that weekend.  Pearls of goodness.  Pearls of truth.  Precious moments of revelation.

And she shook me.  She reminded me that it isn’t about me at all.  It is about her and you and any other that may need to hear some good news. 

For the ones sitting in the hospital waiting on more tests.  For the ones that received the result of a test and it might not have been what they wanted to hear.  For the ones, like me, that just can’t seem to pull it together on their own.

For the ONE who can meet each one in each moment of need. 

So, she reminded me that there is a greater purpose for each of us.  She reminded me of days gone by.  She reminded me that we are here to serve God.

Such a great measure to share!

Are you sharing yours?

Residence

I drape a blanket over my shoulders.  It brings comfort from the cool morning air. 

I wake and rise to click keys.  It brings comfort from the jumbled thoughts in my brain.

I pray to God.  He brings comfort to a troubled soul.

And as I pray, I list Who He Is.

Shelter.  Thinking of this old blanket bringing warmth.  This old thing can’t hold a candle to His Shelter.

Provider.  It goes much farther than physical provisions.  He is the Provider of my salvation.

Resident.  Ah-ha.  Yes.  R.E.S.I.D.E.N.T.  His Holy Spirit is a resident inside me. 

I like a clean house.  I enjoy a neat, tidy space to dwell.  Not that my house is a picture of this at all!!  But I do enjoy it.  Everything in its place.  Because there is a place for everything.  When I go to grab a mug for coffee, I want to know that it is in the same place each time. 

I am a resident in my house.  I get to decide if the laundry gets done.  And if it doesn’t there are no clean clothes to wear.  And without clean clothes I just might stink.

Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own?  1 Corinthians 6:19 (NASB)

Am I keeping a tidy space for the Creator of the universe?  Or am I hoarding junk that keeps His residence in shambles?  I have some house-cleaning to do.  What about you?

Continuing...

So many of these posts seem incomplete. As I read back over my heart and mind and thoughts poured out in letters and words and pictures, many feel unfinished. Like reading one chapter of a book and not continuing to chapter two. What happens next?  There is no way to know unless you continue.

But what importance does that continuing hold. At times it seems completely useless and a silly waste of time. And then other times it seems life depends on it. Like air for my lungs, it is necessary to keep living. 

Which of these words may be life-offering relief?

If only one is rescued from the flood isn't the effort of continuing worth it?  To that one it is everything. And if that one is rescued it may lead to that one being the one to reach out to another. 

So continuing isn't wasted.

Finishing doesn't become vanity.  It isn't a perilous fight to the finish but it is a journey.  An adventure of sorts.

Seeing what is just around the bend.

Reaching out and taking another step and moving forward. 

Continuing the journey....

Unraveling

He wanted to know how many t-shirts could be made from that field.  His growing mind always wondering.  Good question, I thought.  I have no clue.  But that white…

Bursting white amidst the still green foliage.  The tender purity of the contents erupting from such a sturdy stalk.  The thick, hard walls of the boll no longer able to contain the pure white begging to be seen.  So much light has been poured into that boll and that purity will not be contained any longer.

Weren’t his words bursting from a place of purity?  He doesn’t yet have the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders and mind.  A mind consumed with the current worry of the day and the day before and the day to come.  His was a simple question. 

Then Jesus again spoke to them, saying, "I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life."  John 8:12 (NASB)

"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.  Matthew 5:14-15 (NASB)

Those bolls of white will be twisted and pulled and stretched and combined.  It has to die to get to its final purpose.  Pulled from that hard stalk so that it can go forth and be seen; be used.

Thin fibers twisted together, tightly woven for strength.

And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart.  Ecclesiastes 4:12 (NASB)

But what if one of those fibers begin to unravel?  What if one of those strands break?

Sometimes the pressure becomes too much.  It overwhelms and that tightly woven cord can find one sliver of fiber unraveling.  Curling and flapping in the breeze.  Experiencing a harrowing ride in turbulence.  Blowing away from the safety of the remaining cord.  Drawing away from the security found in the tightly woven space of strength. 

But if you are flapping in the breeze, you can’t quite find your place in that t-shirt.  The fibers holding tight for their intended purpose.  Sometimes that errant strand has to be cut away.  The usefulness expended fully.  Likely to cause others to come loose.  Best for all to be cut away.

But sometimes that loose thread should be tucked back in.  Allowing the others to surround and hold tight so the unraveling subsides.  A knot tied to keep it in.  So, with future use the knot tightens to keep that one secure.

Fibers of purity woven in a tapestry of life.  Fibers woven into usefulness.  Holding tightly to keep the good form.  Moving in fluid tandem.  Realizing those fibers hold you even when you think you should be cut off.

Was his simple but complicated question stated for that very purpose?  For him to pull me back into security.  Perhaps one day he will know how many t-shirts can be produced from a field of cotton.  Perhaps one day he will know how he pulled his mama back in and tucked and tied an errant strand wanting to be cut off, but not quite expended.