Lea Sims's Blog

Ecclesiastes 3 tells us that there is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens:2 a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, 3 a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, 4 a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, 5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 6 a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, 7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, 8 a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.I’ve always taken great comfort in this set of verses, not only because there is such a poetic and rhythmic balance in them, but because they’ve always been a reminder that God is the appointer of all times, and that these seasons are cyclical. Weeping and mourning, searching and silence, hate and war…all have an end. There is always a season of healing, building, laughing, and dancing…of loving, mending, and peace around the next turn.All of these times serve a purpose in our lives—even some of the ones that might not seem ordained by God, like killing and tearing down, scattering stones, hating and making war.All of these seasons, in some way, demonstrate the necessity of death. In order for there to be life, there must be death. In order to build, things must be torn down. In order to have peace, sometimes we need war. And in order to see new growth, trees need to be pruned.I was thinking of the way Autumn brings the breathtaking view of bright colors and hues of fall leaves, but as beautiful as a mountainside of fall foliage can be, that gorgeous vista is a trumpet declaration that winter is coming—in just a few more weeks, those leaves will be stripped from those trees, and those branches will be bare. In order for Spring to bring new life, new vision, and new hope, the glory of the past season has to die. There is always, always a winter.The world believes that life precedes death, but we who have been made alive in Christ know that the exact opposite is true. It is death that produces life. Is it little wonder that each new year begins with winter, not spring or summer? Death is the starting point, not the ending point. And because winter is the first season, something critical and preparatory happens in that colorless season—when God strips us of old growth, old fruit, and old glory.John 12:24: “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”1 Cor 15:36: “When you put a seed into the ground, it doesn't grow into a plant unless it dies first.”In order for there to be new life, new growth, and new fruit in our lives, God ordains seasons of death—a time when he puts on his gardening gloves and grabs his pruning shears and begins to tear down, to uproot, and to scatter stones. Those seasons are painful. Those seasons also seem to be times of silence; when God seems to be refraining from embracing me. I can’t always hear him. And those times usually mean he is asking me to sit still under his quiet discipline. Because in those moments, he is speaking to me, not with his words, but with his HANDS.Prov 3:11-12: “My son, do not despise the LORD’s discipline and do not loathe His reproof; for the LORD disciplines those He loves, as a father the son in whom he delights.”Heb 12:7: “Endure suffering as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father?”When God puts on his gardening gloves and puts his hands on the things in my life that need his attention, I can be certain of three things. It’s going to hurt. It’s absolutely necessary. But the hands that are doing it will be full of love. And he’s doing it because I am a child that he loves—one in whom he delights.I am learning that when I am in these seasons and I feel the weight of God’s silence and the painful work of his hands on the clay of my soul that my one and only question needs to be:“What is it that needs to die, Lord? Where do you need to lay your blade?”God will inevitably point me to one of three things on the tree of my life:The roots. The shoots. The fruits.The roots. The health of the roots is all about the soil. How well planted am I in the things that nourish me? Has there been a loosening of that soil? When I’m not planted in the House of God, the Word of God, and the service of God, the soil that keeps me upright begins to loosen, and I begin to lean. Because leaning will become bending and bending will become breaking, I have to look closely at where the winds of distraction are eroding soil and uprooting me from where God has asked me to stay firmly and immovably planted. When I’m not well planted, my ongoing ability to stay upright and fruit-bearing is at risk:QUESTION: “What needs to die, God?”His answer is inevitably too much work, too many “yes’s” that should have been “no’s,” too much time on social media or watching TV, too much running and not enough resting, too much burning the candle at both ends instead of lighting the candles of Sabbath. God takes the blade to my control, my comfort, and my commitments.The shoots. The most painful pruning for me is when God takes his blade to the weeds that are shooting up from the soil and creeping into my soul. We will find those weeds thriving in the same soil where we are most deeply planted, which is why they can go unnoticed for so long. The weed of offense is most likely to grow in the same soil where I am being physically or spiritually provided for. The devil plants weeds where we are being fed. But if those weeds grow strong enough long enough to get to the branches of my tree, they start choking my growth and poisoning my fruit---that’s when it’s visible and taste-able to others in my life. When God forces me to look at that fruit, there is never a deeper more anguished cry of my heart in those moments that I fall to the floor and literally beg God to pull out that blade and lay me bare.QUESTION: “What needs to die, God?” His answer is almost always pride, offense, unforgiveness, a lack of mercy, self-absorption, frustration, and all the ways the devil encourages me to over-operate in my SELF-ness. God usually chooses to reveal these weeds in the form of stark self-awareness or the hurt feelings of a friend. And truly, the natural consequences of allowing these weeds to destroy my fruit are perhaps the most deeply cutting slice of God’s blade. He prefers to do it gently and cleanly by putting his pruning shears in the hands of a grace-filled friend who loves me enough to speak the truth into my life I need to hear. But if no friend is willing to do it or I’m not willing to listen, God will let the raw, undiscriminating, and humiliating blade of an enemy to do it for him. By any means necessary, the weeds have to go.The fruits. The fruit of a tree is only produced on its branches. It’s produced when the tree is well-rooted and well-planted and only when the tree can bear the weight of its own fruit. When God pulls out the pruning shears and directs his attention to our fruit-bearing limbs, his goal is never to decrease or diminish us, but always to stimulate new growth and new fruit.QUESTION: “What needs to die, God?” He inevitably swings his blade at two kinds of branches—the ones that used to bear fruit and the ones that never will. When I have the courage to ask Him what I have given my time, talent, and treasure to that will never or no longer bear fruit, the Holy Spirit will show me the things that need to die, or be cut out of my life, in order to stimulate fruitfulness in the areas God has called me to do . Being Sisterhood coordinator was an incredibly fruitful limb on my life for a very long time, but pruning it was necessary for him to produce the fruit that is budding now on new limbs.The song below is from a singer I didn’t know and a song I’d never heard of before writing this devo. No one has ever better put to words what the painful but beautiful journey of being an “extra” in the hands of God has been. When you’re an extra, there is a lot of cutting. A lot of pruning. And a lot of stripping. Because…you know…”too much.”The song is called The Cut by Jason Gray, and it’s based on Psalm 119:67-77. When interviewed about the release of this song, Jason shared:“I have a friend who visited a vineyard and in the spring they harvest the first grapes and throw them away. I was curious about this, as it seemed wasteful. My friend explained that by throwing away the first grapes, the grapes that grow back are heartier, tastier, and better grapes. They want to cut the first fruit to get to the good stuff. It was a terrifying story. It made me think of the verse in John where Jesus talks about the vine and the branches and that any branches that don’t bear fruit will be cut off and burned up. I thought my ‘fruit’ was safe. It made me wonder about many of the good things I do—going to church, tithing, giving to the poor. How many of the good things am I doing to get God to leave me alone? Look, Lord…look at all this fruit. Don’t mess with my life. He loves us more than that. He wants to get to the good stuff. He looks at our lives with His pruning blade. God cuts, it hurts, it is difficult. Hopefully, we can have courage and take strength in knowing that whatever God cuts does not diminish us, but makes us more."THE CUTMy heart is laid Under your blade As you carve out your image in me.You cut to the core And still you want more As you carefully, tenderly ravage me.And you peel back the bark Tear me apart To get to the heart of what matters the most. I’m cold and I’m scared As your love lays me bare. But in the shaping of my soul, The cut makes me whole.Mingling here, your blood and my tears As you whittle my kingdom away. But I see that you suffered, too, In making me new For the blade of love cuts both ways.As you peel back the bark And tear me apart To get to the heart of what matters the most. I’m cold and I’m scared As your love lays me bare, But in the shaping of my soul, The cut makes me whole.Hidden inside the grain Beneath the pride and the pain Is the shape of the man you meant me to be, Who, with every cut now, you try to set free.Come set me free…You peel back the bark And tear me apart To get to the heart of what matters the most. I’m cold and I’m scared As your love lays me bare.And every day, you strip more away.As you peel back the bark And tear me apart To get to the heart of what matters most. I’m cold and I’m scared As your love lays me bare.In the shaping of my soulI know the blade must take its toll God give me strength to know…That the cut makes me whole.None of us are ever eager for the discipline of God, but the God-first soul will sit under it no matter how hard or how often it’s needed. If God places his pruning shears in your hands and asks you to apply them to the life of a close friend, prayerfully obey Him! It can be very difficult to speak necessary but loving truth into the life of someone we love, but do we realize what is at risk if we do not obey God in those moments? When we do not hold each other accountable in love, we leave that precious friend EXPOSED. We open him/her up to the destructive wounds of an enemy, the harsh discipline of natural consequences, and for God to chastise that person publicly when he would rather do it lovingly in private.I would much rather have a thousand clipping, healable cuts from a friend than to have my friends and family stand by and watch a weed choke me to death and spoil the fruit of God’s call on the tree of my life.“Wounds from a sincere friend are better than many kisses from an enemy.” ~ Prov 27:6

"Tell the stories." These were the words God whispered repeatedly to my heart this time last year. I was three months into my sabbatical wilderness season, praying for direction and waiting in peace for God to say, "This is the way. Walk in it." (Isaiah 30:21) I've learned that when God drops a word in your spirit like that, it is almost always preceded by signs---a series of seemingly disconnected events, experiences and moments that the Holy Spirit uses to loosen and till the soil of your heart so that you are ready to receive that word in the right moment with the right awareness. For three months prior to this command to "tell the stories," the Holy Spirit navigated me through a series of checkpoints--moments when he stirred my spirit so deeply, when the experience was so tangible and tactile, that I knew without question he was telling me to pay attention and take note of it. To the person separated from this kind of active work of the Holy Spirit, either by unbelief or disbelief (yes, there is a difference), the events I experienced would hardly seem noteworthy, much less connected. But when we walk every day with the awareness that the Spirit of God himself abides within us, we have to learn to pay attention. And to recognize that there is reason he has been sent to dwell within us. “When He, the Spirit of truth, has come, He will guide you into all truth” (John 16:13). I can know the will of God for humanity, the Church, and for his people by reading the Bible. But I cannot know his will for my life without learning to recognize and respond to his active,living, and vocal Spirit within me. If you don't know what that looks and feels like in your daily life, consider my sequence of events below and how ultimately they all stitched together to bring command and confirmation to my heart and mind. In March of 2017, these events/scenarios all took place in seemingly random occurrence:March 1, 2017: I began a month-long study and meditation on the Book of Luke. I had finished a workbook-driven study on Thessalonians and felt a tug in my spirit to dive into the gospels. I bought several commentaries, read through all four gospels, and then camped out for most of the month in the Book of Luke, with my spirit powerfully and specifically stirred around the parables of Jesus and how he used storytelling to teach people about the Kingdom of God. March 4, 2017: I was sitting at my table in the late afternoon working on a Powerpoint presentation for work. Suddenly and without any preamble, warning, or personal meditation on the subject, God dropped the opening scene of Running from Monday on my heart. In fact, what I heard in a clearly audible voice in my spirit was "Delaney's eyelids fluttered open." Without giving any of the book away, I will just say that this is the opening line of the book and that the flashback scene that follows it--an intense and painful scene that sets the stage for the whole book--was downloaded to me verbatim by the Holy Spirit, and I could hardly open a Word document fast enough to transcribe what was being given to me. When I was done, I sat back with my hands trembling and my jaw hanging on the floor. Where in the world did this come from? What did it mean? My first thought was that I needed to blog it, but I had no idea what it meant or where it would lead. I read it out loud to my husband and he was both disturbed, riveted and impressed by it. "Sounds like a book," he said. Speak to me God? What are you saying? March 11, 2017: The movie The Shack came out. While I thought this was a good movie, I wouldn't have put it in the one-of-the-best-movies-I've-ever-seen category. I could see the theological gray areas others pointed out. But as I watched the film, I felt an overwhelming quickening in my spirit (and when I say this, I mean an emotional and physiological event-- inexplicable welling tears, increased heart rate, rolling chills, goosebumps, hairs on the back of the neck standing up, the whole nine yards). I've learned to sift these experiences to determine if they are solely my emotional response to something or the Holy Spirit is doing something entirely on his own. This experience fell in the latter category because, as I said, this movie did not have the power on its own to move me this way. God was speaking to me. I literally whispered out loud in the theater, "Okay, God, what are you trying to tell me?" His response: Pay attention to the dialogue. So I focused in on the conversations Mack and God were having about faith, and I even went home and fast-forwarded to those conversations later via the audiobook. They were inarguably powerful. I wasn't sure what it all meant for me, but I stored it up in my heart. It was important. I knew it without question. March 14, 2017: The TV series This is Us aired its finale episode. I had been avidly watching this show from the premier episode the previous September, and I could hardly put into words the impact that show was having on me. Obviously, all of America was tuning in and being emotionally drawn to the story and characters. But my spirit was stirred beyond imagining. Why? I questioned it so many times during those months. "What are you telling me God?" It was a fiction story of made-up characters who despite their fictive nature were as real, relatable and compelling as any I had ever seen on TV. They were showing America what it looks like to powerfully and beautifully deal with human struggle--how to wrestle with ghosts, confront addictions, extend difficult forgiveness, address family history and generational patterns, grieve well and embrace healing. Every week I would say out loud, "This is some of the best writing I've ever seen for TV."March 31, 2017: I was in prayer and meditation in a chair on my dock in the early morning. I raised my hands to heaven and said, "God, I know that you called me out of the role I was in, out into the wilderness and into this season so that I would take a new adventure with you, walk on the waters of courageous faith with you again. You emptied these hands so that they could be raised heavenward as an offering of surrender. However you want to fill these hands God, I am ready. Whatever you want to write, these hands are willing. These hands. This heart. This life. Do with it whatever you want to do." God answered loudly, clearly, and powerfully: "Tell the stories." From the parables of Jesus to the powerful dialogue of The Shack to the unprecedented writing of This is Us, God was pointing me toward the power of storytelling. I would be writing fiction. And it was going to tender hearts, break chains, and teach Kingdom. [INSERT IMAGE HERE: Me. Face to the floor. Weeping. Grateful. Overwhelmed.]I could transcribe my entire journal upon the space of this blog and still not be able to fully convey all the other ways, large and small, that the Holy Spirit connected dots and brought direction and confirmation to this journey. How he used Bobby Houston's book The Sisterhood: How the Power of the Feminine Heart Can Become a Catalyst for Change and Make the World a Better Placeto reignite my fire for rescuing women. How he pinned me to my seat with revelation and weeping in the movie Hidden Figures to tell me that speaking to injustice would be part of this new journey. There are so many ways that he MOVES and SPEAKS and STIRS if we are awake and paying attention!The first fruit of that journey--which really started two years ago with a deepened pursuit of the Holy Spirit--now buds upon the tree. Running from Monday will be out for "consumption" to feed and sow new seed into the hearts of women in just another week or two. It is the first of an anthology. Astoundingly and with inexplicable trust in me to steward it well, God spoke to me in the plural. He wants me to tell stories. Multiple. Many. And so it begins. In the coming days between now and the launch of this book, I will be blogging more about this journey---how it is and always has been much, much bigger than ME. Stay tuned. And thank you for reading.

Last month I had the amazing privilege of touring the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Savannah, Georgia. It was a trip down memory lane and an opportunity to share with my closest friends some of the sacred experiences of my childhood growing up in the Catholic Church. The Savannah cathedral has some of the most intricate and beautiful Stations of the Cross I had ever seen, and as I explained their significant to my non-Catholic friends, I was reminded how powerful some of the rituals of my childhood faith truly were, though I did not appreciate them at the time. As a child in Catholic school, I spent my Lenten Fridays at each Station of the Cross until all 14 had been observed, acknowledged, and reverently prayed before. Like most of my classmates, I dreaded the experience--it was long, tedious and boring. Any attempt to speed up the process with skipped or rapidly uttered or abbreviated prayers was met with stern reproof from the teacher standing close by, especially if that teacher also happened to be a nun. What are the Stations of the Cross? If you didn't grow up in Catholic Church, this beautiful tradition may be unknown to you, but of all the things I now hold in my heart that helped shape in my childhood what my current relationship with God would become, the Catholic approach to Holy Week stands unparalleled. Spending every Holy Week of my childhood utterly fixated on the passion of Christ from Palm Sunday to Resurrection Sunday was both formative and transformative. As I stood in St. John the Baptist Cathedral in Savannah, staring up at the cathedral's breathtaking stations, I thanked God for putting me in front of those stations every Lenten Friday of my childhood because His passion became my own. For my fellow believers across and outside of the denominations, here's a primer and some interesting facts about the Stations of the Cross:The Stations of the Cross, also known as The Way of Sorrows, were developed as an alternative "journey" for believers when Jerusalem fell to the Muslims in 1187 and a pilgrimage to Jerusalem became untenable.Originally, these stations were placed outside along a path or roadway to align with the similar "stations" that corresponded to the actual landmarks of Christ's journey through Jerusalem to Calvary. They were referred to as Via Sacras, or sacred roads, for those who chose to travel them to and from a particular church. Over time, they moved indoors as a shorter, commemorative journey within a church or cathedral itself. There are traditionally 14 stations of the cross, the earliest set comprised eight scenes that aligned with the gospel accounts of the Passion, and six that followed the oral tradition of the church. But in 2007, Pope Benedict approved a set of stations that better aligned with the scriptural accounts of Christ's journeyAnyone taking a personal and prayerful walk through these stations would pause, reflect, and pray at each of these 14 scenes, meditating on the way of suffering--the Via Dolorosa--of Jesus:Jesus in the Garden of GethsemaneJesus is betrayed by Judas and arrestedJesus is condemned by the SanhedrinJesus is denied by PeterJesus is judged by PilateJesus is scourged and crowned with thornsJesus takes up his crossJesus is helped by Simon of Cyrene to carry his crossJesus meets the women of JerusalemJesus is crucifiedJesus promises his kingdom to the repentant thiefJesus entrusts Mary and John to each otherJesus dies on the crossJesus is laid in the tomb.Did you know?Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ was intentionally written to follow these 14 stations, and if you watch the movie this Holy Week, you'll see that the movie follows the "Passion," or journey of suffering, of Jesus. My family will be sitting down to watch Passion of the Christ tonight, and I am grateful for the opportunity to reengage in the journey I took so often as a child--to truly consider and give thanks for every step my savior took to the cross...for me.

The new year has been enthusiastically rung in. The holiday decorations, leftovers, and remaining baked goods have been packed up, eaten, or discarded. And the litany of Facebook posts summarizing 2017 and identifying a "word" or a list of resolutions for 2018 have begun. I love reading people's insights about the year behind and seeing them dream and plan for the year to come. This brief window of reflection each year is powerful--typically the only time any of us pause to assess where we've been, where we are, and where we're going. It's a moment full of meditation and evaluation, promise and potential. This time last year, I was doing the same thing--buying a fresh new journal with invitingly crisp white pages, sharpening my new box of colored pencils, setting goals for everything from health to family to vacations to book reading, and finding my word for the year. God was calling me into a wilderness season (that word was already taken) and such a pivotal year needed a good word. I was late to the "find a word" tradition. I needed to up my game. I prayerfully pondered my word like I was shopping for shoes. I finally settled on a word that was beautiful and different: Selah, a restful pause to prepare for what's next. Those shoes looked good on my feet and perfect for where I would be walking! The thing is...I had no idea where I would be walking.Lessons from 2017Sabbath means rest. Sabbatical means a journey.I choose the word Selah for 2017 because I assumed that after years of ministry without a break, God was asking me to step down so that I could rest, be refilled, and consider the future. While I did spend more time alone, sitting still, and quietly connecting to God than ever before, he quickly showed me that he had work for me to do. After years of giving my "busy" to ministry, he finally had my undivided attention to get that work done. My sabbath year was about to become a sabbatical year. Both involve taking a break, but sabbatical years are breaks taken for a purpose--to travel, research, and write. In other words, some wilderness seasons are ordained for journeying, not wandering. We can't see signs when we're fixated on the map. It's good to set goals and make plans. Our lives should be lived with intention, and I believe the only way to do that is to lean into the exercise of goal-setting. But I'm learning to hold loosely to any of those strategies because God is likely to disrupt them. He has plans for me that may or may not align with all the carefully crafted goals and task lists I've journaled into my planner. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord." (Jer 29:11). He knows those plans and I don't. I'm not a pawn in God's hands. I'mgiven wide open spaces within which to dream and be creative, but if I want to live a God-first life, my life can't be driven by the whip of calendars, planners, goal sheets, and task lists. I need to have my head up, eyes open, and ears alert for the direction of his Spirit so I won't miss all the signs God is showing me about where to go and what to do.Too much planning robs us of the adventure. I get a lot of peace from planning, and I definitely get a little creative thrill from journaling goals, tracking progress, and logging outcomes--especially if I can do it with colored pencils, doodles, and artwork. So it was with more than a little heartache that I had to obey when God told me to lay it all down....set it aside. "I didn't ask you to step down from ministry and walk with me in this season for you to spend it tracking your water intake, doodling in your journal, and logging your outcomes." Not sure how he talks to you, but God doesn't pull punches with me. God was calling me on an adventure and asking me to follow him....destination, route, and timing unknown. God never leaves us empty-handed. God asked me to put my journal up on a shelf, put my highlighters and colored pencils away, and for the first time in years, resist the urge to pull down and dive into a new Bible study or workbook. "I have something to put in your hands," he said. I think sometimes we're afraid to leave margin in our lives for God. He wants those unassigned tasks, those empty spaces on our calendars. And he wants our wide-open, empty hands. He will even go to great lengths to remove the things we're holding in order to see nothing but skin on our palms. But he doesn't leave us with fingers slack and hands splayed open. And when we trust him enough to lift our empty hands to him, he will fill them. My question at end of the year needs to be "Did I accomplish any of your goals, God?" I no longer care whether I accomplish the goals I set in January. No goal I wrote on January 1 of 2017 involved me ending the year with a book and study guide ready to publish. Or having a clear and beautiful vision for the six books that will follow. Clearly, God needs to own my goals. To everyone out there today---January 1, 2018---looking for your "word of the year":You won't know your word of the year until it's over. After an amazing year that started with an eagerly drafted journal of beautiful goals, I ended the year with only a handful of them met. And it thrills me. Because when I look at the list of all the things I accomplished this year, I realize the goals God had for me were SO MUCH BETTER than the ones I wrote for myself. SO MY WORD FOR 2017 WAS: PREVAIL"Many are the plans of a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." - Proverbs 19:21God's purposes in my life prevailed despite my best-laid (and well-journaled) plans. Praise Jesus. And my word for 2018? I have no idea yet. Lea

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." Prov 3:5-6Not too long ago, a friend confided in me that she was stuck in a dead-end job and really wanted to pursue a different career path. "If you weren't doing this, what could you see yourself doing?" I asked her. She said it had always been her dream to work with disabled children, perhaps as a therapist or social worker. But life has a way of carrying us downstream where we latch onto whatever opportunities we can grab ahold of, and somehow despite her dream, she'd ended up behind a desk working on spreadsheets and crunching numbers for an insurance company--as far from working with children, disabled or otherwise, as it was humanly possible to be. Then I asked her a question that truly challenged her: "What are you doing right now to get from here to there?" She gave me the answer that a lot of believers are apt to give: "I'm just waiting for God to open the right door." I've heard that same answer in different versions over the years:"I'm just waiting for God to bring me the right man.""I'm just waiting for God to give me that promotion." "I'm just waiting for God to lead me to the right church.""I'm just waiting for God to give me a sign and tell me what to do." In the last year, I've learned a very powerful truth about waiting on God. It often has less to do with sitting in silent expectation of God and more to do with attending to and ministering to Him, as a server in a restaurant "waits" on the patrons at their table. The Hebrew word for "wait" most often used in the Bible is qavah, which means "to bind together, as in the twisting of strands to make a rope." When the Bible compels us to "wait on the Lord," what were really being urged to do is to attend to him--to make him our primary focus and to make ministering to and abiding in him our singular devotion. When we do that, we become bound together with him like a rope. When strands of a rope are bound together, they move together. There will be seasons where God will ask us to wait with expectant faith for him to move and direct, but more often than we realize, God is waiting expectantly for us to move. Why? Because he's moving, and if we're abiding in him, we shouldlikewise be moving. We see this clearly in the life of Jesus. While there were times when Jesus withdrew in solitude to pray and hear from God, those times were of purposeful but limited duration. The Jesus we see in the gospels is a Jesus constantly on the move--abiding in and carrying the Presence of God upon him, doing what he saw his Heavenly Father doing and going where the Spirit directed him to go. Quite frankly, Jesus knew that his time on this earth was short and there was too much at stake. He didn't sit around waiting for God to tell him what to do. He got up and went where he saw God go. They moved together. Proverbs is very clear that if I abide in God--acknowledge him in all things and put my trust in him--he will transform an obscure and confusing way forward into a straight path of ordered steps designed to get me from here to there. But I have to take the steps. God will not move me. I must do that myself. That means I have to participate with his Spirit. I have to act in accordance with his direction. I have to dream, decide, and do. If I'm wrongly positioned in an ill-fitting job or career, I have to take the steps to prepare, retrain, retool, and move toward the opportunities God has ordained for me. If I want to be married, I have to prepare and position myself in ways that move me toward that future. If I wish to be a singer, I have to sing. If I wish to be a teacher, I have to teach. If I wish to be a pilot, I have to learn to fly. If I wish to travel, I have to buy a ticket. If I wish to be a writer, I have to write. What is within your power to do right now? What steps are you taking that would cause the Lord to say, “Let it be according to your faith”?

"Therefore, since we receive a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us show gratitude, by which we may offer to God an acceptable service with reverence and awe; for our God is a consuming fire." Hebrews 12:28-29It's Thanksgiving Day. I'm watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and about to start making the green bean casserole and pound cake that I'll be taking to the second of our three family gatherings later today. My baby girl is home from college. I got to spend yesterday cooking with and sharing an amazing meal with my husband, which makes up for him being on duty for the next 24 hours. I have one son beside me and another I'll squeeze at least ten times when I see him on Friday. I will see, hug, and spend time with my eight parents/in-laws and nearly all my siblings, nieces, and nephews by the time this weekend is over. And I have the very best sister friends in all the world. I have so much to be thankful for. But there is nothing I am more grateful for than being part of God's unshakeable kingdom. There is such peace and comfort in that word--unshakeable. It means that no matter what this world gives me, as good as my life is in this season, I have an assurance of belonging to something greater than all of this. It means that if my Thanksgiving was spent today at home alone in isolation or in the waiting room of an emergency room or at the bedside of a dying family member or working some dead-end job somewhere or even struggling through a painfully dysfunctional family gathering---I have an assurance of belonging to something greater than all of this. I have these three promises of God's kingdom: A permanent place. In God's kingdom, my residence is not temporary. I don't have to worry about title, role, position, or value there. I am never left off the invitation list, overlooked, or made to feel unwelcome. In God's kingdom, I suffer no rejection, no eviction, and no abandonment. I'm never alone and never left out. I BELONG, always, fully, and forever. An eternal family. In God's kingdom, I am part of a forever family, where there is no dysfunction, no resentment, no competition, no hateful words spoken or unspoken, no jealousy, no despair, no impossible expectations to meet, no unforgiveness, no inadequacy, and no failure. No one walks out, abandons, abuses, or neglects. There is simply the fullness of God's Spirit. There is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control--with everyone, all the time. An abundant table. In God's kingdom, the table is always prepared and laid out, with every good thing I will ever need in abundant supply. At God's table, I lack nothing. There is no hunger, no scarcity, and no greed. There is no anxiety about supply or the loss of it. There is no emptiness, no holes to fill, no chasing of things. There is simply enough. There is peace and provision in every moment, in all seasons, for all time. If Hebrews 12:28 tells me that God's kingdom is "unshakeable," that means that none of the things promised above can ever be taken from me. No evil scheme or strategy, no tragic or random event, no mistake or failure, no abuse or rejection...none of these things can shake the reality of my PLACE in God's kingdom, the PEOPLE who are part of my kingdom family, and the PROVISION that is guaranteed to me as a citizen of that kingdom. Is there anything of greater value to give thanks for today?

"Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin, to see the plumb line in Zerubabbel's hand." Zechariah 4:10 NLTEvery good work of God has a beginning. Even though He has no beginning and no end, the works of His hands are full of beautiful beginnings, riveting journeys, and powerful outcomes. When I stepped into the season God called me to at the start of 2017, I had no idea where He was taking me, but I knew that some "former things" were passing away and (behold!) He was doing a new thing. It's hard enough to embrace small beginnings the first time. But can I tell you? I've found it's even harder to embrace them when God asks you to go back to that space and start again. I guess we assume that once we've embraced that season well and moved on, we're not going to be asked to start from scratch again. (Can you hear God laughing here?) I've learned that God really loves to bring us back to starting lines and construction sites, where trust in Him is required anew. Zechariah is visited by an angel from God who imparts a vision about the rebuilding of the Temple--emphasis on rebuilding. God was about to do a new thing from the ground up. The very first thing Zechariah sees in his vision are lamp stands of oil. God wanted him to understand that without anointing--without His Spirit--there would be a building, but there would be no Temple. The angel tells him that it will not be by "might or strength" that the Temple would be built, but by His Spirit. The oil represents the manifested work of the Spirit, the way the Holy Spirit is released through spoken and written words, signs, wonders, healing, and good works. But the Spirit does not work alone. He works through us. In chapter 4, verse 9, the angel says these amazing words: "Zerubbabel is the one who laid the foundation of this Temple, and he will complete it." God gives us the vision, ability, capacity, skills and favor to accomplish what He has asked us to build. He opens the doors by HIs Spirit. He supplies the resources, funding, and extra hands to see the work done. BUT He puts the plumb line in our hands. And even more amazing yet, He rejoices to see it in our hands. He rejoices to see us begin the work.So today, I rejoice in this small, new beginning. It started ten months ago with the breath of God's Spirit imparting the first of many beautiful, redemptive words that would become our first book together, Running from Monday. And with the building of this website and the writing of this first blog, I am laying the foundation and picking up the plumb line for the work that lies ahead. Thank you, Lord, for your Presence through it all, the power of your Spirit abiding within and resting upon this work under construction. I hold firmly to the task and loosely to the glory, praying only that your Kingdom come, that you be KNOWN and SEEN through it all.