Blessed are the poor in spirit.
“Come and sit with me while I make my coffee, Jesus,” I asked. The morning was shaping up to be a chaotic one. As the water boiled in the kettle, I went on and on to Jesus about the things in my life that needed attention and what I was going to do to solve each challenge. He sat and listened politely.
The coffee ready, I poured it into my favorite mug. Are you going to keep pouring?” Jesus asked me as the coffee rose to the rim, ready to overflow.
“I like my cup full,” I said with a smile.
“But how can anything else get in if it’s so full?” He asked.
“There’s a lesson coming, isn’t there?” I replied. Jesus smiled.
I can’t teach you anything if you’re like your coffee cup— so full of yourself.” He answered. “You have to empty yourself and allow me to fill you. All those plans you’re scheming this morning? Let them go. Let me fill you with the answers.”
I nodded and sipped my coffee. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t being open to you this morning. I’ll empty myself and let you lead the way,” I said.
“I know just where to take you,” Jesus said and handed me His heart and His hand. The morning was now shaping up to be a wonderful one!
God’s word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.
My phone rang and broke the silence of the night, waking me from a peaceful slumber. Shaking the sleep from my mind, I answered it. No good news comes at this hour. I braced myself for what I was about to hear. When I hung up, I pulled on my coat and slippers and went out and sat in the garden, out under the crescent moon. “God, there’s a lot of pain and suffering in the world. It makes me wonder if you really exist.”
“If you need proof of me, don’t turn your back on me,” God whispered through the bare branches of the pear trees.
I looked up and saw the North Star shining brightly. “Then be my guide, God, in this darkness. Don’t let this sad news blind me to your light.”
God sat down next to me. “I’ll be the lamp for your feet, the light for your path,” He assured me. A shooting star raced across the sky as if punctuating God’s promise.
I looked toward the east at the faint glow of the coming sunrise. “Let’s go back to the cottage,” I invited God. “I’ll make us some tea and toast.”
We rose together and walked back hand in hand, our steps illuminated by God’s love.
(Rest in Peace my friend.)
Your word is a lamp for my feet.
~ Psalm 119:105
“God, there are two different paths that my work could take,” I said while folding my laundry. “I’m not sure which one is the right one. Can you help me, please?”
“I’d be delighted to help,” God answered, and sat down next to me.
“Which path would you prefer I take?” I asked.
“Which one makes you the happiest?” God asked.
“Whichever one will make you the happiest,” I replied.
“I don’t have a preference for which one you choose.”
“Really? I thought that there would be just one path you’d want for me,” I explained.
“There are many paths you can take. Each one will give you experiences and lessons.”
“But you’ll give me suggestions, I hope.”
“I’ll set your feet in the right field. From there, take the most interesting paths. Make your life a joyous adventure, Sparrow. And, don’t be afraid of making a misstep, for they will happen. Enjoy the journey,” God said gently.
I put the stack of folded clothes in the laundry hamper. “You’ll go with me, won’t you?”
“Every step of the way,” God said and smiled.
“For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you,
leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps.”
Gray blankets the day. The rain is steady. I sit and look out on my garden and ponder what I will do on this wet day. My thoughts turn to the future. What will I do to continue my work of sharing God’s love? I have more questions than I do answers. But deep inside I know that whatever I do, I want to follow Jesus’ wounded feet. I want to volunteer to serve Him.
As the rain tumbles from the sodden clouds, I hear myself say the words that the prophet Isaiah said: “Send me.” I don’t know where I will be going, but I know it will be the journey of a lifetime. Won’t you come along? Volunteer. Follow the wounded feet of Jesus. See where they take you.
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time
we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
Wind lashed the trees. I buttoned my coat and leaned into the gale as I went out on my morning walk. The sun had not yet broken the horizon; my feet struggled to find their way in the dark. “Where are you, God?” I begged. “I’m confused and I need your help, but you feel a million miles away. I need some guidance. I’m exhausted, my heart heavy. I’ve been trudging this lonely road too long.”
“I know,” God said.
“And you let me keep going like this?” Tears stung my eyes.
“Why? Why would you willingly let me feel this confused and lost?” I demanded to know.
“Because it is only in the darkness that you realize how much you need my light,” God answered softly. “You can’t know the fullness of my love without having felt the fullness of your despair. In your darkest moments, I am there, waiting for you to turn to me, to trust me.”
“I’m turning to you right now, I need this confusion in my life to end,” I said.
“See that glow up ahead?” God asked.
I squinted in the dark. I saw nothing but the dark of the pre-dawn sky. I shook my head.
“It’s there,” God reassured me. “Soon, you’ll see a shimmering light, a glow that covers the horizon. That’s your next chapter. It is waiting patiently for your arrival.”
“You promise?” I asked.
“I promise,” God answered.
“I’ll keep going,” I said. “One step at a time.”
“That’s the spirit. Remember, I’m always there with you, even in your doubts and fears, and your pain and anguish. You are never alone,” God reminded me. I looked down the long road ahead and there, way down at the end, I saw a soft light, a faint glow. I picked up my pace; my feet suddenly light and hurried to embrace my next chapter.
God is my rock.
Unexpected clouds gathered above and brought the wind with them. “Let’s go take a walk in this autumn weather,” I invited God. We hiked up the ridgeline and beyond the ravine, then followed along a mountain stream. The world was quiet, save for the babbling of the water and the crunch of boots on dry leaves.
“See where that stream seems to stop over there by those big boulders?” God asked. “It’s been forced underground for a while. Eventually, it will burst back to the surface and be clean and fresh from having traveled through the rocks.
“That’s pretty amazing,” I said.
“When life forces you into dark and narrow places, let me be your rock. Let me wash you clean and give you the energy to burst back out into the light,” God said.
“I’ll remember that in times of trouble.”
The clouds gathered more strength, the sky darkening. “Let’s turn back home,” God suggested and reached out His hand to help me scramble down the hillside.
“Will you be my rock in the good times, too?” I asked.
“I’ll be your rock forever and always,” God said and squeezed my hand. I wondered if it would start to rain before we made it back to the cottage—but I knew that even if it did, I’d be alright with my rock there beside me.