Write this day upon my heart…

I have always liked the comfort of sameness. I have sought it and drawn strength from it, choosing the peace of predictability over the possibility of unforeseen circumstances.  It sounds like the chicken way out, I know, but it works for me and that’s what matters. It’s when I’m at my best and I hear His voice.

    • Mornings looking out my window to field and grove, taking in sky and birds at the feeder, the pair of doves on the power line, the occasional passing of cars, reading Utmost and the Word—thinking, writing, watching.
    • Vacations to the same place where I always find my smile and my heart expands in wonder as I breathe in the beauty of gentle waves, an unhindered horizon and blue beyond imagination.
    • Trips to the mountains to hear the familiar laughter of my one true friend, who I’ve known all of my life, even when time and distance separated us—the sister by choice who remembers the child I was.

Today is a new day opening before my very eyes,
a new page, perhaps a new chapter in the book of my life
that began with You when the worlds were made.
It is not a slate washed clean
but a fresh new page that awaits Your Hand.
Will I ignore tomorrow what You write today,
choosing my words of limited power
over Yours that have no end?
Will I glory in Your Words — or revel in my own?
When I look back someday at what I have written,
will I wonder what it was all about,
or will this day be written on the halls of my heart
where You abide with me?
Will I rejoice in bended knee at sin expressed,
at contrite heart at sin confessed?
When someday I read this day,
will it be as fresh as this crisp morning?
O Holy Father, write this day for me — indelibly —
on this sometimes resistant human heart that waits
to hear Your Voice saying, “This is the way, walk ye in it.”

 

 

It’s time to grow up…

How many more mornings do we have before the curtain drops and another ascends,
before life as we know it is no more, and things that are not are called into being?
How many sunny days are left before threatening clouds materialize on the horizon,
their advance as much a certainty as the Book lying here beside me foretells?
How many more nights before we have breathed our last on this good green earth
that has sheltered, nurtured, and given us much more than we ever dreamed?
How many mornings are left to praise Him for the beauty of the dawn?
How many days remain to love others as He loves us?
How many nights will there be before there are no more?

It’s time to grow up, I hear Him say,
to lay aside the video-game mentality and just grow up!
I wonder what the result would be if every Christ-follower
would work as diligently winning others to Christ,
as they do in playing meaningless games that do not add
but, instead, drain meaning from their lives.
I know what would happen.
They would bear the incorruptible fruit that no fire could touch.
Yes, it’s time to grow beyond the desensitizing appetites of this life
and mean it when we pray, “Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done!”