Someone asked me recently what my title to the blog meant. I thought about it after giving the short answer, "Well it's glimpses of God's love and Glimmers of his glory as he reveals them to me." That is true enough and the answer was certainly sufficient for that moment. There is more to the name than just that though.
I love corporate worship. You may know what I mean. I don't care if we are singing a hymn, a chorus, a child's song, or everybody singing "in the Spirit" as one; however we do it as long as we are together as we enter the throne room I am filled up and happy. There is a sweet and intimate sense to personal worship that is reflected in a healthy marriage, the oneness of being with God is such a powerful while tender and perfect experience. Yet, the experience of lifting my voice or standing in silence before him as "the bride of Christ" with other believers is also a powerful thing and not only solidifies my faith, my understanding of who I am and to whom I belong; but it also connects me in a deep and spiritual way to those who stand with me in that moment.
It was during a corporate worship several years ago in a little wood building in Elkton where I felt the stirring the Holy Spirit and in that moment I felt as if a curtain was pulled aside and a glimpse was captured like a photograph in my heart. The overwhelming sense of his love and the magnitude of the glory made me cry. I stood there and just burst into tears. I felt giddy and lightheaded and I think I crumpled as I went to my knees. There was no standing in this perfect and complete moment. I felt wrapped in his presence.
A few years later there was a similar experience when someone prayed for me. He touched my head as he began to pray and he said "hello mother" and the call in my life rose inside me like the full thunderhead the farmer hopes to see when he longs for rain. That glimpse pulled me forward into things I had only begun to understand and gave me the courage to believe for them and wait for Him. As the man prayed I fell to the floor, for there was no standing as the Holy Spirit encircled me like a new layer of skin. You can call it whatever you want. All I know is He was there with me and I came away from that moment with a hunger for more of Him, less of me, a better glimpse of who I am, and certainly a glimmer of His glory radiating in my heart.
I have found that I truly only need the glimpse of his love, the glimmer of his glory. In fact I think that in this present state perhaps I can only handle that much. For his presence is overwhelming, his love is beyond anything we know, and his glory is indescribable. The closer I come the more I see how far off I truly stand.
The Father's gracious love and continuing leading has brought more and more and each glimpse gives me a fresh moment, a new start. His mercies are new every morning, and his love endures forever. So my prayer for this coming year as I write these weekly thoughts is that you also will find glimpses of His love and glimmers of His glory pouring through your life and that you will be blessed. Happy New Year friends.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The Lamb's lullaby
Here with the sheep sleeps the Lamb.
Here in the dark shines the Light.
Here in the night is the Morning Star.
Here He is.
Here we are.
Here lies a baby, the Mighty One.
Here near His mother, the Father's Son.
Here in the straw lies the King of Kings.
Shepherds bow.
Angels sing.
Immanuel
God with us
this is the heart of the matter.
So often we miss what God has done
Caught in the cares of today
But this little baby became a man
He bought for us - life
By giving his life
made a way.
Immanuel
God with us
this is the heart of the matter.
Here in the dark shines the Light.
Here in the night is the Morning Star.
Here He is.
Here we are.
Here lies a baby, the Mighty One.
Here near His mother, the Father's Son.
Here in the straw lies the King of Kings.
Shepherds bow.
Angels sing.
Immanuel
God with us
this is the heart of the matter.
So often we miss what God has done
Caught in the cares of today
But this little baby became a man
He bought for us - life
By giving his life
made a way.
Immanuel
God with us
this is the heart of the matter.
So here it is, Christmas week and I'm thinking about what to write for the blog. I could write about a tradition that I didn't cover on the face book glimpses page. I could debate the whole Santa vs. no Santa thing. I could reminisce some more about memories and things the Lord has done over the years here in my life. But as I was discussing it with Him I realized I could just write about Jesus. What a novel idea, huh? :0)
I love the little slogan that came out several years ago . . . Jesus is the reason for the season. I like it because it says everything in that short little thought. We can fuss over the commercialization. We can debate whether to celebrate in December what probably happened in spring and whether to use all the pagan trimmings. We can discuss what place a fat man in a red suit plays in our story. But the one thing we cannot do is leave Jesus out of it. Even to those who know not what they celebrate or purposely avoid "the religious aspects" of the holiday, they celebrate what? Christ - mas. Hmmm.
So I cut the holly from my front yard in December right around the winter solstice and pull out my red and green decorations, many of which have the painted face of a jolly guy with whiskers and I bake and share all the wrong sugar filled foods I can find time to create. And in the middle of the hunting for the right gifts and singing music I hear only this time of year, I remember who this is about. He is not just what it's about. He is everything. God with us. The fullness of the Godhead taking on the fullness of humanity. Eternity stepping into time and space. The reason for the season and everything else.
May your Christmas eve, day, week, season and heart be filled to overflowing with the delight of that gift and may you walk in the peace the angels announced to those who would hear. Blessings friends.
I love the little slogan that came out several years ago . . . Jesus is the reason for the season. I like it because it says everything in that short little thought. We can fuss over the commercialization. We can debate whether to celebrate in December what probably happened in spring and whether to use all the pagan trimmings. We can discuss what place a fat man in a red suit plays in our story. But the one thing we cannot do is leave Jesus out of it. Even to those who know not what they celebrate or purposely avoid "the religious aspects" of the holiday, they celebrate what? Christ - mas. Hmmm.
So I cut the holly from my front yard in December right around the winter solstice and pull out my red and green decorations, many of which have the painted face of a jolly guy with whiskers and I bake and share all the wrong sugar filled foods I can find time to create. And in the middle of the hunting for the right gifts and singing music I hear only this time of year, I remember who this is about. He is not just what it's about. He is everything. God with us. The fullness of the Godhead taking on the fullness of humanity. Eternity stepping into time and space. The reason for the season and everything else.
May your Christmas eve, day, week, season and heart be filled to overflowing with the delight of that gift and may you walk in the peace the angels announced to those who would hear. Blessings friends.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Surprise of Christmas
I attended a Ladies Christmas tea recently and the speaker shared memories of her family's Christmases to open her teaching. It was fun to see the pictures and hear the stories she shared. It was a catalyst of sorts for my own memories. Thinking about what stands out in my childhood memories, I was surprised by how much I do remember.
Some of those memories brought warm fuzzies; while others caught my heart in the sad moment. Still others made me laugh. Memories like lying in bed with my little sister and listening for sleigh bells, and remembering the thrill of getting that purple "maxi" coat. Pictures in my head of little plastic bells hung carefully with tinsel garland in each window pane of the big picture window in the front room, and watching my baby brother and sister with "bots" in their mouth stare in amazment and wonder at the twinkling tree that stood in the corner of the living room. One of the warm fuzzy memories are the traditional family visits to all the great-aunts and uncles and Aunt Regie's scrumptuous pizzelles and kruschiki. (I was a teenager before I learned that pizzelles were Italian fare not Polish like Aunt Regina.)
I remember sneaking out at 2am for just a peek and finding the whole tree loaded with presents. I dug through to find something unwrapped that I could enjoy without getting caught. What I found was a miniature working sewing machine with a foot pedal and all. I was so excited. I sat right down and tried it out. In my 7 year old state of delight I did not take into account the amount of noise produced by a little metal machine running in the silence of what had surely been a very late night for my parents. I was quickly sent skipping back to my bed by my not-too-happy mother.
The year my dad was in Viet Nam was a hard one for all of us. We felt his absence all the more as the holiday approached. Mom worked so hard to make sure that everything was good for us and that his absence would not steal our Christmas from us. I'm not sure if it was because I was old enough to get it or if it was part of that mercy-gift-thing, but somehow I remember being acutely aware that it was really important to Mommy that all was well come Christmas morning.
So Christmas morning came and we all tore into our gifts like we did every year. But that morning was heavy and I felt the weight of it with all of my nine years and then some. As I opened those gifts I made sure the surprise was written on my face despite the lack of care I felt toward the presents. I made sure the delight of a child was shining in my smile and eyes, even though the only gift I wanted she couldn't buy me. It would take Uncle Sam not Santa to deliver the one thing I wanted that year. But I needed to give my mom the gift of joy as much as she needed to receive it.
Then there's the year I decided to "just look" and dug through my parents' bedroom closet, discovering every single gift I was getting. I was 12 I think that year. Old enough to know better for sure. On Christmas morning I knew without touching them what each package contained. It was one of the worst Christmases I ever had! But that morning taught me something sweet; it taught me the delight of the surprise. Today I love surprises. I learned that day the anticipation of the moment is as much a part of the gift, the wonder, and joy as the present itself.
I think in some ways the gift of Christ born as a baby was a sweet surprise that was given for every generation that will embrace the delight of the Father in that moment. Even though it had been prophesied and a whole nation waited in anticipation, he came unexpected, at least in the manner he chose to come. To think anew on the incarnation can bring a fresh jolt of surprise. How could it be? Why would he? He could have entered time and space with a trumpet blast(and he will one day)! He could have come on a white horse and announced his place (and he will one day)! He could have claimed the throne of David with a shout and a legion of angels at his side (and he will one day)!
He came in abject poverty. He came through a young virgin who would be mocked and dismissed by those who knew her as just another girl who had made the wrong choice during the betrothal period. He chose to be delivered in the exposed area of a stable. (The stable could have been a cave. It could also have been the center area of a katalamati - the three sided booths encircled a center area where the animals were "stabled" in the open, yet still protected inside the confines of the "inn".) He chose to be born weak. He chose to be born helpless. He chose what worked for us, what was best for us, the way that would bring us peace, and bring his death. He chose to be become the only baby born to die, begotten not created. I don't know about you, but when I consider the incarnation, every year I am surprised and delighted; I am humbled and moved to tears at his love, his sacrifice that began long before the cross stood on the hill, his choice to put me before himself. In that surprise every year, I find the desire, no the need to make sure he knows that I am eternally grateful that I am his.
Some of those memories brought warm fuzzies; while others caught my heart in the sad moment. Still others made me laugh. Memories like lying in bed with my little sister and listening for sleigh bells, and remembering the thrill of getting that purple "maxi" coat. Pictures in my head of little plastic bells hung carefully with tinsel garland in each window pane of the big picture window in the front room, and watching my baby brother and sister with "bots" in their mouth stare in amazment and wonder at the twinkling tree that stood in the corner of the living room. One of the warm fuzzy memories are the traditional family visits to all the great-aunts and uncles and Aunt Regie's scrumptuous pizzelles and kruschiki. (I was a teenager before I learned that pizzelles were Italian fare not Polish like Aunt Regina.)
I remember sneaking out at 2am for just a peek and finding the whole tree loaded with presents. I dug through to find something unwrapped that I could enjoy without getting caught. What I found was a miniature working sewing machine with a foot pedal and all. I was so excited. I sat right down and tried it out. In my 7 year old state of delight I did not take into account the amount of noise produced by a little metal machine running in the silence of what had surely been a very late night for my parents. I was quickly sent skipping back to my bed by my not-too-happy mother.
The year my dad was in Viet Nam was a hard one for all of us. We felt his absence all the more as the holiday approached. Mom worked so hard to make sure that everything was good for us and that his absence would not steal our Christmas from us. I'm not sure if it was because I was old enough to get it or if it was part of that mercy-gift-thing, but somehow I remember being acutely aware that it was really important to Mommy that all was well come Christmas morning.
So Christmas morning came and we all tore into our gifts like we did every year. But that morning was heavy and I felt the weight of it with all of my nine years and then some. As I opened those gifts I made sure the surprise was written on my face despite the lack of care I felt toward the presents. I made sure the delight of a child was shining in my smile and eyes, even though the only gift I wanted she couldn't buy me. It would take Uncle Sam not Santa to deliver the one thing I wanted that year. But I needed to give my mom the gift of joy as much as she needed to receive it.
Then there's the year I decided to "just look" and dug through my parents' bedroom closet, discovering every single gift I was getting. I was 12 I think that year. Old enough to know better for sure. On Christmas morning I knew without touching them what each package contained. It was one of the worst Christmases I ever had! But that morning taught me something sweet; it taught me the delight of the surprise. Today I love surprises. I learned that day the anticipation of the moment is as much a part of the gift, the wonder, and joy as the present itself.
I think in some ways the gift of Christ born as a baby was a sweet surprise that was given for every generation that will embrace the delight of the Father in that moment. Even though it had been prophesied and a whole nation waited in anticipation, he came unexpected, at least in the manner he chose to come. To think anew on the incarnation can bring a fresh jolt of surprise. How could it be? Why would he? He could have entered time and space with a trumpet blast(and he will one day)! He could have come on a white horse and announced his place (and he will one day)! He could have claimed the throne of David with a shout and a legion of angels at his side (and he will one day)!
He came in abject poverty. He came through a young virgin who would be mocked and dismissed by those who knew her as just another girl who had made the wrong choice during the betrothal period. He chose to be delivered in the exposed area of a stable. (The stable could have been a cave. It could also have been the center area of a katalamati - the three sided booths encircled a center area where the animals were "stabled" in the open, yet still protected inside the confines of the "inn".) He chose to be born weak. He chose to be born helpless. He chose what worked for us, what was best for us, the way that would bring us peace, and bring his death. He chose to be become the only baby born to die, begotten not created. I don't know about you, but when I consider the incarnation, every year I am surprised and delighted; I am humbled and moved to tears at his love, his sacrifice that began long before the cross stood on the hill, his choice to put me before himself. In that surprise every year, I find the desire, no the need to make sure he knows that I am eternally grateful that I am his.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Glimmer of Hope
Lately I have been questioning whether I am on the correct path. I've been feeling like I can't do what I need to and thinking that perhaps it just isn't what I am supposed to do or that I am just not capable of completing this task. But you know, the Lord has such a sweet and subtle way of answering those heart questions.
I sat at my computer plucking away at a story that I hoped would become a glimpse of something in Him, since it is Thursday, and I haven't posted a blog yet this week. The phone rang and the number showing on the screen was one I didn't recognize. I answered and knew right away this was a woman who I had told to call this evening. So I left my story and went into the living room to sit in quiet where we could talk.
This woman has a child with some issues that we have also faced with one of our children. She needed encouragement. She needed to hear that she was doing this well. She needed to know that she did not make a mistake and there is hope.
As we talked I shared from the past and she shared from the present. We talked about people in common and ones who were helpful. We laughed at similar memories of different children and took comfort in the similar difficulties that we have faced and survived.
This woman was given my name by someone we both know. A year ago. Kelly gave her my contact info last Dec. and she just contacted me a week ago. She could have called last year or last spring and gotten what she needed from me. But nope. She called this week.
Now you might say, what's that got to do with a glimpse or a glimmer? Well, the topic we discussed and she needed encouragement in is exactly why I am on that proverbial path I was just 3 hours ago fairly sure I was jumping off of. Two weeks ago I hit the same kind of slump and had a friend call with a very similar kind of need. After I talked with her awhile I realized, "oh, this was the point."
So the glimmer is just that, just a glimmer. I am really still struggling under the weight of this and feeling like I can't. But that's just the beginning, because I know I CAN. I can do all things through Jesus Christ who gives me strength (Phil. 4:13), and I know that he has a plan and it is for my good, not harm (Jer. 29:11). He just proved it to me as I spoke His words to a woman I have never met and who waited a year to call, a year so that the moment would meet my need also. There is the glimmer of His glory as he works all things together for the good of (me) (Romans 8:28).
I sat at my computer plucking away at a story that I hoped would become a glimpse of something in Him, since it is Thursday, and I haven't posted a blog yet this week. The phone rang and the number showing on the screen was one I didn't recognize. I answered and knew right away this was a woman who I had told to call this evening. So I left my story and went into the living room to sit in quiet where we could talk.
This woman has a child with some issues that we have also faced with one of our children. She needed encouragement. She needed to hear that she was doing this well. She needed to know that she did not make a mistake and there is hope.
As we talked I shared from the past and she shared from the present. We talked about people in common and ones who were helpful. We laughed at similar memories of different children and took comfort in the similar difficulties that we have faced and survived.
This woman was given my name by someone we both know. A year ago. Kelly gave her my contact info last Dec. and she just contacted me a week ago. She could have called last year or last spring and gotten what she needed from me. But nope. She called this week.
Now you might say, what's that got to do with a glimpse or a glimmer? Well, the topic we discussed and she needed encouragement in is exactly why I am on that proverbial path I was just 3 hours ago fairly sure I was jumping off of. Two weeks ago I hit the same kind of slump and had a friend call with a very similar kind of need. After I talked with her awhile I realized, "oh, this was the point."
So the glimmer is just that, just a glimmer. I am really still struggling under the weight of this and feeling like I can't. But that's just the beginning, because I know I CAN. I can do all things through Jesus Christ who gives me strength (Phil. 4:13), and I know that he has a plan and it is for my good, not harm (Jer. 29:11). He just proved it to me as I spoke His words to a woman I have never met and who waited a year to call, a year so that the moment would meet my need also. There is the glimmer of His glory as he works all things together for the good of (me) (Romans 8:28).
"Will you hold my purse?"
In 1964 I was four years old and one of my very best friends was a pretend friend named Casper the friendly ghost. Perhaps if you're old enough you remember Casper too. Or maybe you saw the more recent movie in the 90's featuring him. My siblings are four and five years younger than me and, being the very social person that I am, it seemed like a natural thing to make up a friend when a real one wasn't available. And Casper, being a ghost and all, fit the bill nicely.
Christmas brought shopping and visiting every year, and that year my Grandmom took me along on some her errands. I don't remember who was with us and there must have been someone else since she didn't drive. Dressed in my snow leggings and coat with matching hat, I carried my little purse in and out of the shops. When Grandmom had completed her shopping we headed to the car. While she struggled to open the door with an arm load of packages and bags I found myself in a dilemma.
"Grandmom can you hold my purse?"
So Grandmom put her packages down in the snow to take my purse for me.
"I need to pick up Casper. He's very cold."
My poor Grandmother was probably ready to trade me for a sane child! And sadly for me, I only remember this story from the retelling over the years. Yet, in that retelling I am reminded of how completely blessed I was to have Pearl Pyle as my grandmother. I was already one of several grandchildren, but she found time to include me. In the snow and cold, she still without question, endeavored to meet my "need".
Lately life has felt a bit cold and my burdens have felt weighty, like I can't quite do what "needs" to get done and I find myself asking the Lord, "Can you hold my purse?" Sometimes he takes it from me and offers me the moment to do what I need to do. Other times he says, "no child, you can do this." And then there are moments where he calls me to choose. But even then he is there to encourage, help, instruct, and give me all that I need. He has included me in his Life and spending my days along side him is enough.
Today is one of those days when my little purse of burdens feels overwhelming and I can't quite do what I "need" to do. There are others who depend on me to do certain things and there is a need for me to get somethings done that feel impossible to accomplish right now, like papers due in short time. There are relationships that need tenderness and loved ones who need direction from me. Then, there is the standard things that everyone has to do like the home chores, the job chores, the errands, and the Christmas list.
So my gracious King who carries so much more than I can imagine and doesn't even need to put his down in the snow, takes mine for the moment so I can put my mind to ease, doing what I think is necessary. He already knows that the worries of today, just like my friend Casper, are really just "pretend" for the Word calls them "light and momentary troubles". He also knows how heavy they feel to me and how real they are in this world. And because He is good and His loving-kindness goes on and on, He steps into my moment with me and lifts the weight of my "purse" so that I can see Him.
What burdens do you carry in your little purse or bundle? Will you allow him to carry them (and maybe even leave them with him?) I must admit that today I need to see a glimpse of Him and to bask in the glimmer that is my hope of glory - Jesus. A glimpse, a glimmer: that's enough for now. For I know He is faithful and coming soon.
Monday, November 22, 2010
One of the most influential authors in my life has been Amy Carmichael. My third child was named after her with the whispered prayer that she too would love and honor the Lord with the fervor and desire I saw in the writings of the godly woman I loved to read.
Her words challenge me to lean into Him further; to listen more closely to the whisper of His Spirit; to trust Him more completely. Some of her words encourage and push me forward when it feels to me to be all vanity and futile. In this poem that follows I found one day the very voice of the Lord quietly calling up my faith to know that my eyes don't need to see what faith declares for it to be real and accomplished. He is omnipotent. He is soveriegn. He is faithful.
I stand in hope of healing. I stand in testimony of restoration. I stand in trust that you will be lifted from any burden or worry today. I stand to call up your faith with these words. He is all-powerful. He is complete in authority. He is continuously faithful. And He is for you.
Not in Vain by Amy Carmichael (Habakkuk 3:17-18)
Not in vain, the tedious toil
On an unresponsive soil,
Travail, tears in secret shed
Over hopes that lay as dead.
All in vain, thy faint heart cries.
Not in vain, thy Lord replies:
Nothing is too good to be;
Then believe, believe to see.
Did thy labor turn to dust?
Suff'ring - did it eat like rust
Till the blade that once was keen
As a blunted tool is seen?
Dust and rust thy life's reward?
Slay the thought; believe thy Lord!
When thy soul is in distress,
Think upon His faithfulness.
Though there be not fig nor vine,
In thy stall there be no kine,
Flock be cut off from the fold,
Not a signle lamb be told,
And thy olive berry fall
Yielding no sweet oil at all,
Pulse-seed wither in the pod -
Still do thou rejoice in God.
But consider, was it vain
All the travail on the plain?
For the bud is on the bough;
It is green where thou didst plow.
Listen, tramp of little feet,
Call of little lambs that bleat;
Hearken to it. Verily,
Nothing is too good to be.
(the collected poems of Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes, published by Christian Literature Crusade, Ft. Washington, PA 19034)
Her words challenge me to lean into Him further; to listen more closely to the whisper of His Spirit; to trust Him more completely. Some of her words encourage and push me forward when it feels to me to be all vanity and futile. In this poem that follows I found one day the very voice of the Lord quietly calling up my faith to know that my eyes don't need to see what faith declares for it to be real and accomplished. He is omnipotent. He is soveriegn. He is faithful.
I stand in hope of healing. I stand in testimony of restoration. I stand in trust that you will be lifted from any burden or worry today. I stand to call up your faith with these words. He is all-powerful. He is complete in authority. He is continuously faithful. And He is for you.
Not in Vain by Amy Carmichael (Habakkuk 3:17-18)
Not in vain, the tedious toil
On an unresponsive soil,
Travail, tears in secret shed
Over hopes that lay as dead.
All in vain, thy faint heart cries.
Not in vain, thy Lord replies:
Nothing is too good to be;
Then believe, believe to see.
Did thy labor turn to dust?
Suff'ring - did it eat like rust
Till the blade that once was keen
As a blunted tool is seen?
Dust and rust thy life's reward?
Slay the thought; believe thy Lord!
When thy soul is in distress,
Think upon His faithfulness.
Though there be not fig nor vine,
In thy stall there be no kine,
Flock be cut off from the fold,
Not a signle lamb be told,
And thy olive berry fall
Yielding no sweet oil at all,
Pulse-seed wither in the pod -
Still do thou rejoice in God.
But consider, was it vain
All the travail on the plain?
For the bud is on the bough;
It is green where thou didst plow.
Listen, tramp of little feet,
Call of little lambs that bleat;
Hearken to it. Verily,
Nothing is too good to be.
(the collected poems of Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes, published by Christian Literature Crusade, Ft. Washington, PA 19034)
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