Thoughtful Spot

The Quiet of Palm Sunday 2013

The snow padded in on quiet feet, introduced first by sister rain mixed with sleet that ricocheted silently off the wind shield as our blue van nosed out of the church parking lot. We stopped by the sub shop and picked up lunch, and arriving at home, we dropped our coats, lit the lamps, and pulled out the Easter box. These many weeks, the house has slumbered quiet and unadorned. Lent has been as silent as the snow that began filling the woods late in the afternoon. A Lent of the heart. . .

Now we come to this, the first day of Holy Week, and we pull out the familiar items and set the stage for the drama to unfold. Snow begins to accumulate thick on the yard, and the startled weatherman takes a break from the basketball games to change his forecast.

And on the social media, everyone cries foul play  because Spring has been betrayed.

But i watch the snow with wonder. . . and listen to Words tumbling from the cataract of my heart. . .

"Behold, your King comes to you, humble, and riding on a donkey."
~Matthew 21:5

I see in my mind's eye the crowds on that first Palm Sunday, crowds of holiday-revelers, waving branches plucked from the trees and hailing the local celebrity of the moment, pushing, stretching necks to catch a glimpse, laughing and singing.

But Quiet rode on the donkey.

In the center of all the noise, Peace is seated as a Humble King.

Inexorably He winds His way into a city that would hate him, seek to kill him, in a few short hours.

Daughter looks at me thoughtfully this afternoon and speaks softly, dark eyes wide, "I don't know how He did it. Ride into Jerusalem, knowing. . ." She shook her head gently, pensively.

I don't either.

And i realize: He is calling me to follow. To ride Quiet into this difficult thing, distracted palm-sunday-crowds on every side.

He will not force me. He calls. He goes before.

And Quiet enters heart on softly padded feet. If He is willing, i will go.

Would you be willing to go with me to this post Journey to the Cross, to think further about the Quiet of this One?

 

 

This Is Not An Easy Time We Live In

i sat on the edge of my daughter's bed last night, just before turning in, and i thanked her for all that she had done that day and spoke of how carefully she had performed her tasks. And then, just before leaving so that she could turn out the light, i said softly, "Today was Purim. Meditate on Esther before you go to sleep." She nodded, receiving the invitation with sweet seriousness. Esther, these many years, has become a by-word for my daughters and me to consider the weight of responsibility that comes with being a woman. God has given every woman the gift of influencing men.  

it is a difficult world we live in as women, and it is not easy to handle our gift with purity when the whole world bombards us with images of women on display.

it is a good week to re-read Esther, i think.

Happy Hanukkah!

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?  You are not your own; you were bought at a price.  Therefore honor God with your body." (1 Cor. 6:19-20).

On Hanukkah, we celebrate the re-dedication of the defiled temple. 

Lord, i re-dedicate this precious vessel you have given me to travel in earth time. The world like Antiochus' pig threatens to defile us, but into this darkness You have stepped and have chosen to dwell, Light within me. Welcome.

 

Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You've been promised, we've been waiting

Welcome Holy Child

Hope that you don't mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long awaited Holy Stranger
Make yourself at home
Please make yourself at home
Bring your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
World now breaking Heaven's silence

Welcome To Our World

Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born
So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy
Perfect Son of God

Welcome To Our World

                          ~Amy Grant and Tim Rice

The Feast of Trumpets

The sound of wind sighing in the trees brings to memory the soft hiss of ocean sliding over sand, and i look out the window at the afternoon storms headed for these woods. i am sitting at my new writing spot, a little table butted up to the double window in the library, a nook under the arch of the cathedral glass.

i sigh with the wind; the summer season is sliding over my fingertips and i see tangerine leaves gilding the tipmost edge of a little oak by the road.

 Today begins the fall season of Biblical Feasts,  a day our Jewish friends call  Rosh Hoshannah, a day God told Moses to call the Feast of Trumpets (Leviticus 23:23.).

    i enter the cycle, wooed by the soft wind of the Spirit in my soul's sails. i have not written in weeks, and in the stillness He blows the shofar over me.

    All week last, He blew one long note in my heart, the Tekiah, calling me to be alert, to listen.

    I responded with Shevarim, the broken blasts, the sobbing cry of the heart.

    The Teruah came in an unexpected note from a visitor to Thoughtful Spot. . .i re-read the message over and over. In its lines is a call, an affirmation, a soothing balm for the wounds inflicted by words that blew like a strong sea wind all my life, stunting growth and twisting thought. Their untruths are embedded like weeds in the gravel.

    And on this storm shrouded day, all alone at Round Rock with only Sam for company, i study the Word. Weeding the heart. Here i come upon verses about the Last Day,
the prophetic message of the Feast of Trumpets.

And it is here, my Soul arises.

Beloved, there comes a Day when a trumpet will sound ushering in an unimaginable season.

For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with thetrumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.

After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.

And so we will be with the Lord forever. 

~1 Thessalonians 4: 16 - 17

The shofar sings to us to be alert. To listen.

Its notes remind us that  . . .

The Lord is my light and my salvation—
    whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
    of whom shall I be afraid?
~Psalm 27:1 

One thing I ask from the Lord,
  this only do I seek:

that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life.
~Psalm 27:4

. . .With trumpets and the blast of the ram’s horn— shout for joy before the LORD, the King.
~Psalm 98:6 
 

Click here to learn about the notes of the shofar and read Psalm 27.

If You Remain Silent. . .

". . .who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”
~Esther 4:14

Busy season over, and the under-girding power of the Spirit has lifted, and suddenly find the strength is gone.

Time to rest, re-connect, renew.

Dear Hearts,
be blessed this holy day of Purim,
and know that God quietly and relentlessly
works on your behalf.
Find your courage in Him.

The Season for Miraculous Provision and Re-Dedication

A basket of candles at her feet,

hands, sticky with pine sap, folded around her glass. . .

we've been wrapping the house,

mail box,

lamp post

in scented pine.

The serious little five year old lost in wrinkled-brow thought

peers out of the deep brown eyes of a young woman, my daughter,

"Time is a straight line - to us.

To God, it is a pencil point."

 

He is a God

of meticulous detail

creating time like a snow globe bubble

in which His creature Man can dwell.

Omnipresence holds time; pierces the bubble; every where at once. . .

with me and with Isaiah. . . at the same time.

He esteems seasons and moves them

through man-time

like waves.

Chronos, every day Man-time, the dailyness of life

Kairos,Fullness of time, when He moves quickly. . .to deliver.

 

Heart glimpses the slender candle flame

curious candelabra

in midst of deep, dreamless sleep of December.

Hanukkah, it is your time

on His calendar.

What have you to say to me?

righteous cry, thrusting anger, toppling idol

cleansing temple!

Flask of oil ,enough for one day, miraculously feeding the candle flames for eight

until more can be made. . . in the prescribed way.

And heart knows, heart responds. . .

the wave of miraculous provision and re-dedication

is coinciding with the season of His birth.

Best Beloveds, let us enter in. . .

it is the season. . . for miraculous provision

and re-dedication.

 

The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness;
      the darkness couldn't put it out.

~John 1: 5, The Message

Such A Simple Meal

Such a simple meal, really.

A bit of bread. A sip of wine or grape juice.

In this room of people, hundreds, nearly a thousand,

we share this scrap of  meal to remember strange things. . .

blood

a broken body.

"What it cost the great God to prepare. . .

Nothing less than the life and blood of His Son. . ."

~Andrew Murray, The Lord's Table

 

The blood offered symbolically to me on a Sunday morning

may be a drop of grape juice in a crystal clear plastic cup

 or an astringent sip from a heavy, stemmed goblet.

The bread

may be a tiny square of plastic-something that mercifully dissolves on the tongue

or perhaps a small chunk of a homemade loaf

yet again an unleavened sliver.

The hands that share it

are not His

but they are ministers of His Grace.

The Lord Jesus, on the night He was betrayed, took bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said,

“This is My body. . ."

Think of it . . . His body.

I know of a man, imprisoned in communist-controlled country, for distributing literature about the God who provides the body of His Son

He was sentenced to twenty-four years

and he was allowed to see his wife but twice.

On her visit, she smuggled in something so precious as to risk her life.

a tiny packet enclosed in plastic and bound by a rubber band

a smidgen of powdered grape drink. . .

so that her husband could drink in remembrance of Him.

Blissfully, mercifully, amazingly, in less than two years, the man was released from prison. . .

and I pause to contemplate. . .

what communion is like for him now. . .

this side of steel bars.

Beloved, when we next take communion,

may our eyes be opened to Behold.

Look into the eyes of the humble-one-fellow-human offering the bits,

gaze at the back of the heads of those ahead of you waiting,

listen to the quiet breathing of those around you.

He died for them.

And then let your heart dwell on those whose places are empty,

who have not come to the feast.

 

When the symbols of body and blood enter our veins

and scent our breath

may He mark us

a living epistle

a light set ablaze

a prayer waiting to happen!

And when we open our mouths to speak of this holy moment,

may our message be

"Come! Come! There is room for all."

And then Beloved, make room.

Oh, Church, make room.

Lemon Love Notes. . .

Lazy summer afternoon
Screened in porch and nothin' to do
. . .
And I yawn, and sigh, and slowly fade away. . .

Deep enough to dream in brilliant colors
I have never seen

Deep enough to join a billion people
For a Wedding Feast . . .

Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying:

“The kingdom of heaven is like a King

who prepared a wedding banquet for his Son. . ."

~Matthew 22:1

  

 

Deep enough to reach out and touch
The face of the One who made me

And oh, the love I feel,

and oh the peace . . .

 

 

Deep enough to dream in brilliant colors. . .
Deep enough to join a billion people
For a wedding feast . . .

  

Do I ever have to wake up?

~Chris Rice, Deep Enough to Dream

 

pictures from Lauren Galloway Photography and Style Me Pretty

The Beginner's Passover . . .

Afternoon caramelizes in the fire of sunset.

The western light splinters. . .

and shards strikes the crystal chandelier . . .

so that sock-footed family pounds down rainbow-stained stairs . . .

 

the Passover Meal is ready to begin.

Excitement hums through my veins like electricity through power lines . . .

"Calm down . . . you'll be too excited to experience this," my mind cautions my heart.

Heart strings still hum.

"I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you," my heart sings silently to my family.

These were the words Jesus had said to his disciples . . .

 

 

 

 

  

 The List: 1000 Gifts #0123 - #0133

. . . the Bible teacher on TV speaks about the anointing of the Holy Spirit, and I look down at my hands glistening with olive oil and kneading the flat bread for Passover: the dough slides slick under my palms . . .

. . . there is no shank bone on our Seder plate . . . but no matter . . . our lamb will be pound cake . . . "Do I taste almonds !" a Loved One exclaims. . . "Wasn't the almond symbolic in the Old Testament temple?" another queries . . . meaning upon meaning . . . almonds represent watchfulness and promise; 

. . . Granddaddy and Nana visit on Sunday afternoon; we talk for hours - all six of us encircling the kitchen table . . .

. . . pollen floating on hazy gold sunlight . . . another scent of promise. . .

. . . Passover moon, hanging heavily, full from his dinner and propped lazily on the tip top oak limbs . . .

. . .I lie on my side and blink in the arcing starlight of four candles . . .rest is sweet when work is hard . . .

. . . in the direct path of tornado warnings . . . that passover  . . .

. . . ache of heart for one who will not be passed over . . . and prayers become real . . .

. . . tiny, blue thumbprint of a four year old in a small seaside village of Indonesia . . . "please pray for my healthy" her missionary writes for her . . . I pray. . .

. . . long awaited letter from a five year old, half a world away . . .another Compassion child . . . he wants to sing and dance with me . . . when will I come to his house? . . . if I had wings,little one, tonight!

. . . leaning close to the flatbread I have made and seared with stripes. . . poking tiny holes into its surface with fork tines . . .

 

But he was pierced for our transgressions,

he was bruised for our iniquities:

the chastisement of our peace was upon him;

and with his stripes we are healed.

~ Isaiah 53:5

. . .and when He had given thanks,

He broke [the bread] and said,

“This is my body, which is for you;

do this in remembrance of me.”

~ 1 Corinthians 11:24

 

 

 Joining the community at . . .

 

The Little Foxes . . .

Catch for us the foxes,
   the little foxes
that ruin the vineyards,
   our vineyards that are in bloom.

~ Song of Solomon 2:15

Mr. Heidler is a Messianic Jew . . . He is a Jew who believes that Jesus is the Messiah. . . and he has helped me to see the leaven as the little foxes that ruin the vineyard.

"Before Passover could be celebrated . . . [e]very Jewish woman diligently searches her home, looking on every shelf, in every drawer, and in every cabinet to find any trace of leaven. . .

    This is good for us to do today."

~ Robert D. Heidler

  

I turn his words over in my heart and look over this tiny vineyard we call home.

They are a quiet call.

An annual spring cleaning

A preparation.

 

1. Dedicate your home to the LORD.(it is a good thing to re-dedicate little Round Rock . . . annually, just before Passover. . . the season of deliverance . . .the celebration of freedom)

2. Take a spiritual inventory of your home.(since the last time we did this, something may have slipped in unobserved)

Go through your house, room by room, and let the Holy Spirit show you any objects that should not be in your home. (not only objects, but habits, attitudes, unresolved unforgiveness, new fears creeping in)

 

3. Cleanse your home of ungodly objects.(cleanse your mind and heart of the little foxes)

4. Ask forgiveness.(Gentle, Merciful Father . . .)

5. Cleanse the room and cleanse the land.(and cleanse the heart . . .I have that little bowl I use for sprinkling of water over the house . . .

As tiny drops of water-blessed spring almost unseen from my fingertips to four corners, my prayer goes something like this , "LORD, cleanse this home by the washing of water with Your Word" (- Ephesians 5:26.) Sprinkling the Truth of the Scriptures in our conversation cleanses the air like a spring rain.

Go through your house and repent for any known sin that has been committed in each room. Pray for your property as well.

I have a little bottle of anointing oil.

When I have prayed over the house, I will tip the bottle over my index finger; the drop of oil will glisten. I will  choose four spots - the four directions on the compass - probably a window or door - and slip tiny traces of a cross, unseen unless caught by the light. I will command the darkness to go, and seal it with the oil - symbol of the Holy Spirit - and cross - symbol of the blood of Christ. I will invite the Holy Spirit to be pleased to live here, to fill this home with the fullness of His presence.

6. Consecrate your home and property to God and His service.

Declare Joshua 24:15 over your home,

"As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD!"

May it be so, LORD, but we are not able except by Your grace and strength.

7. Fill your home with glory.

. . .communion . . . as a family. . .sing praises and pray . . . in your home. . . testify about the good things God has done  . . .speak the Word . . . in your house. . .read the Psalms . . . aloud . . .

HOPE

for the coming Resurrection of these mortal bodies, the salvation of Loved Ones, deliverance from all our enemies. . .

 

 

All text in purple are excerpts from Mr. Heidler's book, The Cycles of God