Tag Archives: Shelter

ISOLATION

20 Oct

He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. Psalm 91:15

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I have fallen back into myself,

It’s so comfortable there.

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I see the child

Looking for shelter, reaching out to me,

By my solitude – so precious –

Keeps me from reaching back.

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I see the man

Drinking away his pain.

“No, no, no.” I shout,

But from my safe place no one can hear,

They continue toward death.

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I see the woman

At the point of desperation

Mouths to feed, bills to pay, all alone.

I start to reach out

But in my isolation she can’t see I care.

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The pain of others so overwhelms me

That I crawl farther out of sight

To my safe place with Jesus.

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Yet in my safe place there’s a stirring

Scriptures echo in my mind

The rumbling of the Spirit bursts through bone and sinew!

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“Is this what I’ve called you to?” Cries God.

Hesitantly I look into the eyes of my Father,

He’s not angry, only hurt.

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The tenderness in His eyes draws me.

I reach for His outstretched hand,

And step back out of myself.

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In my mouth He’s placed the words that I must take,

To the Child, To the Woman, To the Man.

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The words that will turn their pain to Hope,

Their death to Life.

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The Words – The Gift – of my Father.

 

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Written 2/5/2003

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STEPPING FORWARD

14 Sep

The waters saw thee, O God, the waters saw thee; they were afraid: the depths also were troubled. The clouds poured out water: the skies sent out a sound: thine arrows also went abroad. The voice of thy thunder was in the heaven: the lightnings lightened the world: the earth trembled and shook. Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known. Thou leddest thy people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.    

Psalm 77:16-20 (KJV)

 

I stand in the path of troubled waters,

urged by a deep stirring in my soul.

My promise awaits me on the other side,

distant, dangerous, seemingly unattainable.

 

The waters are rising and churning,

lapping the ground at my feet,

teasing, testing, tantalizing.

 

Dare I step into troubled water,

tempting Satan, testing God?

Is the vision but a dream

or God’s perfect will?

 

There is no Moses to lead me in,

no Aaron to encourage me forth.

The angels hide, wait, watch.

Dare I take a chance

and step into the churning depths?

 

Do I trust God to part the sea,

dry the ground my feet must travel upon,

and hide my footsteps beneath the returning waters?

Or do I remain in my sheltered life,

no risks taken, nothing lost, nothing gained.

 

Do I reach out to the will of God,

the high calling I have been predestined to take,

or rest behind,

allowing another to receive the rich blessing

and sense of victory.

 

The sea of troubled water is frightening,

yet enchanting.

There is so much to gain,

so little to lose.

The waters surge and ebb,

surge and ebb.

Call me forward, Father,

as I strive to please you.

 

I close my eyes to self,

to doubt, to acceptable mediocrity.

One step at a time I move forward,

one step at a time.

 

As the waters part and rise up around me

I see the truth of my adversary,

like a motion picture through a looking glass,

larger than life, magnified,

yet fragile and easily destroyed.

Why did I fear?

 

Will those troubles disappear?

No!

They will always rest in the troubled waters.

It is my choice to view them,

or place my eyes on God,

and take a step forward,

knowing that each step will part the waters

and find solid ground.

 

Art thou not it which hath dried the sea, the waters of the great deep;

that hath made the depths of the sea a way for the ransomed to pass over? 

Isaiah 51:10  (KJV)

 

 

Written 9-11-00

 

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Martyred

18 Jul

 Martyred Hand

Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.  For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it.  What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?  Mark 8:34-36 (NIV)

Recently I’ve had a bout with sciatica.  I’d heard of it before, but never realized the pain that accompanied it.  It isn’t one of those “if I turn just right the pain will go away” kinds of pains, it’s one of those “no matter what I do I can barely breathe” kind of pains.

Day three was the most intense and I was collecting exercise and stretching advice from as many folks as I could.  All of the exercises helped the pain subside, some, but first thing each morning, crawling out of bed, the pain was always the worse.

Standing was the least painful, sitting was the worse, lying down took strategy . . . still haven’t quite mastered it.  I was trying to do my morning reading and devotionals and found myself walking in circles in the living room, trying to read my Bible as pain free as possible.  At one point I started yelling at Satan to let go of my body and take his pain away from me.  After a while I was praying for healing to my God.  I reminded Him of His scriptures and His stripes.  Then I heard His still small voice, “this pain is nothing compared to what many saints endure for My sake.”

Oh, my, the tortured and martyred Missionaries for Christ.  In a foreign land, tortured and kept in prisons with little food and water; often killed.  I have a home, a soft bed, a comfortable chair to sit in, food in the cupboard and clean water in the tap.  I have so much and I complain about pain.

It’s 1 am of day 5 and it’s hard to sleep.  Yes, the pain is uncomfortable, but with every pinch I think about one of those Saints.  Outside the wind is blowing, I’m safe inside, but I’m thinking about the conditions surrounding those Saints.  How could I have missed thinking about those Saints?

I don’t know, as in Job, whether God is using this affliction to test me.  I do know that it has made me aware of something that I had unintentionally closed my eyes to – the Missionaries that are tortured and martyred for Christ.  How did they endure the pain?  Was it like Stephen who felt nothing as he looked upward into the face of God as he was being stoned to death?  Or was it like Jesus who was beaten, tortured, and hung on the cross in excruciating pain, crying out to the Father, asking why He had been forsaken?

I do know this, with my awareness comes my prayers.  I may not know their individual names or locations, but my Father does.  God, I pray for your children, beaten and tortured for proclaiming You and teaching Your word.  I also pray for the souls of those that bring them harm for they know not what they do.

Jesus, let me NEVER forget.

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