worship

They stood.

I sat.

They bellowed.

I whispered.

It was the first time, the very first, that I didn't feel uncomfortable doing my own thing. I felt His presence, I sang in quiet ways to Him. I love singing, but in all honesty, it is not my most authentic worship.

{Wonder is involuntary praise.} Edward Young

These words, penned far from my own eyes, have tattooed themselves to my mind. I gasp at the way the light falls, smile at the rolling mist, feel the brush of leaves against my palm; these are my moments of worship.

When gratitude, that blessed eucharisteo, rolls over my soul, and flattens complaints and worries.

When I choose Him over others.

When I am afraid, but I walk on.

To trust Him is to worship Him.

Five Minute Fridays! http://lisajobaker.com/2013/08/five-minute-friday-worship/
http://www.incourage.me/2013/08/a-five-minute-friday-free-write-on-the-word-worship.html

present

I miss so much.

I come to school. I complain. I take for granted so many blessings.

"Sometimes, I still go through periods of ungratefulness. I get small-minded, short-sighted and sink to a degree of selfishness that makes everything in my soul seem dark."  Jennifer Rothschild

This comes from a woman who has more faith, more gratitude, and more insight than I do. Yet I find in it so much comfort. I am not the only one who fails. Not the only who falls into the selfishness and darkness.

If I ended there, this would still be a sad tale. But I find a deep desire to be grateful. It brings joy. It is a fulfillment of my purpose to praise. Difficult, it is. But joy will be found by those who are thanking. 

""Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.” Annie Dillard

I want to be there. Here. Now. Grateful for the glory of this life. The glowing orange sun burning the morning mist. The smile of a friend. The unexpected presence of the One who moves the winds and paints the flowers.

small

Five Minute Fridays

the more I grow, the smaller I feel.

I have always been small--never quite able to reach the top cupboard, or the social status, or the furthest person away. I don't keep many close. I don't walk in the light of greatness. I often go unnoticed.

I used to feel invisible and lonely. My smallness makes me hard to find in crowds, hard to notice in large groups. My small voice barely reaches the quietest of shouts, my small hands always feel so empty.

Then I was taught, slowly and lovingly that smallness is greatness. I am concise with words, concise as a person, a condensed soul. My smallness, my quietness makes room for His loudness, His greatness. I am so small. He is so big. The more I know, the bigger He gets, and the smaller I feel.

I cannot do anything apart from Him. In small ways He pours great love into and through me, trickling out to the hands around me. My small arms give great hugs I am told, and my small words encourage big change, I am told. And it is in my smallness that He is greatest. And the view down here is alive with small gifts, small ways He loves.

I am so small.

He is so big.

I pray to grow smaller.

a fretting sparrow

Summer, that beautiful, cocoon: restful, quiet, peaceful, intimate. Summer is no more, not for me. I sit in my residence hall room, little glowing lanterns casting a warmth across my hands, and I worry. I am a fretting sparrow.

Worry is a natural reaction to a situation. Worry is fear. Will all these ten things that I have no control over turn out perfectly? Will I look bad? Will people be upset? Will I be able to pay? I try so hard not to worry.

Maybe that is the issue.

Fighting worry with nothing more than trying not to worry has never worked. Fear cannot be fought with effort to control. No, fear is fought with trust, and overcome with courage, healed by release.

Where can I get that? I wish they sold it at Meijer. Buy a can, drink it, and *poof* no worries!

ha.

If Meijer sells courageous trust with no fear added, I have never been able to find it.

Then the song plays this moment. "I need You, oh I need You. My one Defense, my Righteousness, o God how I need You." That answers my question. Where do I find courage? How can I build trust? Trying harder only wears me down.

Breaking, letting Him break me, letting light come through my cracks, just looking for Him, that is the healing. Reliance on Him, letting my weaknesses wear through me so He can enter in and pour through, that is how we build trust and find courage. Admitting need for Him changes things. Knowing Him changes us.

FMF-lonely

FMF--Lonely

Isolation. That is the deepest loneliness.

But there are other kinds.

There is the lonely that isn't always so bad. There is the lonely of knowing that no one else believes what you believe where you are. That you live in a world of confusion and darkness. That your little light is pressed and crushed by the blackness.

I wrote this poem a long time ago while thinking of this. And it seems to go well with these thoughts:

My little flickering candle, small and humble yet so clear,

Wavers meekly in the darkness as I hesitate in fear.

My flame-it weakens as the blackness presses in so near.

Oh, if only I knew that I was part of a giant chandelier!

Story-FMF

So many stories. They walk by, drive through, fly overhead. To ponder them, the vast number, the immensity of them, is almost crushing.

My story is not the story. My story is a chapter in a grand book. Who is the hero? Jesus. The longest book is history, and though it hasn't all been written down, or remembered by our writers, He remembers every chapter.

What is my story today? What part of my chapter have we hit? Well, I don't know. I am in a place of terrifying trust. I don't know where the money will come from. I keep crying, wondering, because I am scared. Then I remember that fear results from believing lies. The lie that He won't take care of me, that His plan won't work out for my good. My good probably looks a lot different--a lot easier--to me than it does to Him. As terrifying as that is, I am so glad.

My story would be so much less interesting if I wrote it. I would remain a coward. And I would hide. But He makes me brave. And teaches me to trust. His strength in my weakness. True beauty.