Friday, February 25, 2011

Writings from the girl's retreat (Part 2)

This is what I wrote Sunday morning....

That's what I want my life to look like

I am looking outside at the pine trees blowing in the wind. The wind swirls all around, and their branches ruffle, but the statue of the tree is tall, and their roots are deep. They may be moved by the wind, but only momentarily. They bounce back, neither broken nor bent.

That's what I want my life to look like.

In Psalm 1, it says that the man who delights in God's word , the man who meditates on it day and night, will be like a tree planted by deep rivers of water--a tree whose leaves do not whither, whose fruit is ripe and lush.

That's what I want my life to look like.

A few weeks ago, Hal and I were watching Anderson Cooper's 360 on CNN. He was talking about how president Mubarack had declared Egypt to be in a state of emergency (before Mubarack officially stepped down). And Anderson made the comment that Mubarack's declaration was so insane because Egypt had spent the last 30 years in a state of emergency. That night, as I was lying in bed I thought -- God, I don't want to live my life in a state of emergency. I don't want to live life in crisis-mode, where everything is a panic and stress, where uncertainty rules and fear flourishes.

The truth is that I trust in a God who is good. The truth is that I need not worry about life because God cares for me. I am his daughter, and he takes watch over my life. He holds my world, my heart, in the palm of his hand. The truth is that my God is faithful and that he's promised not to leave me or forsake me. So I don't have to fear. He's promised a spirit of love, power, and a sound mind. He's promised rest in my weariness, strength in my weakness. He's promised that He in me is greater than anything in the world.

I close my eyes, and I still see the pine trees blowing in the wind, their resilience, their tenacity dancing against the black backdrop of my eyelids. And I imagine that I am that tree, that resistant, flexible, sturdy tree--that though the winds blow, my trunk is sturdy and my roots are deeply rooted in the soil of God's truth, of God's promises. And with each gust, I may move slightly to the left or slightly to the right, but only to return again to my center, my core.

That's what I want my life to look like.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Writings from the girl's retreat (Part 1)

This last weekend we had our Zoe girl's retreat in Ruidoso. And it could not have come at a better time for me. I needed a weekend to get away and be alone with God. And though I was surrounded by 19 girls, God spoke to my heart. Both mornings I woke up at 6:00 or 6:30, which never happens for me....But in the stillness of the morning, God was faithful to speak to me. I am excited about what He's doing in my life. And I'm excited about my future. I haven't written anything in months, and yet this weekend, God gave me so much to write about -- words that had been deep in my heart until now. I wanted to share a couple of them here on my blog. For now, I'll post the first one!

I Walk Ahead

The light breaks through the trees, touching softly on the rocks and bringing a glimmer, a sparkle to the dew on the grass. So, too, are you bringing light into dark places, into my heart. You reveal your truth to me in exchange for sweet surrender, in exchange for those parts of me tucked deep inside -- my biggest fears, my greatest hopes. With a flashlight, you shine light into my soul and gently slough off the cobwebs. And there, in secret, is my heart. Feeling the warmth of the light, the joy of sunshine, I surrender my heart to you. Slowly, gently, you take it in your hands. You stroke it softly before wrapping your fingers around it, enveloping it completely til there's only your hand, there's only you.

And like the rising dawn that breaks the darkness, that pierces the land, consuming every area in victory, your dawn of hope, of peace, fills me. Your dawn of rest and strength renews me. And I stand, refilled, Holy Spirit. I stand, reaffirmed. I stand, with purpose. You will move my feet, you will make the path. It's not about clarity, it's about risk. And I walk ahead, unafraid of the unknown path. Unafraid of the future. My heart has been surrendered, and with childlike faith in your unrestricted goodness and love, I walk ahead.

[Stay tuned for part two... :) ]