Archive for the ‘Live. Listen. Grow.’ Category

I rock. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. My hands rest gently on the swing. I sniff. I want to be alone. Just want to be alone. To be comforted. To just sit. Sit in my Lord’s presence.

“I’m hurting, Lord.”


A tear rolls down my cheek. A curl softly brushes along my chin.


I’ve done this before. I tried to do it myself. To make it on my own. I fall. I hurt. I’m in pain. I need Jesus. Need the healing of His presence. His touch. His life.

The soft breeze picks up. My skirt flaps around my legs. I shiver.

I lift my wet eyes to the sky. “I’m cold, Lord.” I brush the brown locks from my face.

The wind stills. The sun beams.

I’m warm.

I smile. “I’m warm, Lord.”


He cares.

God cares.

Talk to Him, my friend.

God. Cares.


“People are often unreasonable and self-centered.

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives.

Be kind anyway.

If you are honest, people may cheat you.

Be honest anyway.

If you find happiness, people may be jealous.

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.

Give your best anyway.

For you see, in the end, it is between you and God.

It was never between you and them anyway.”

―    Mother Teresa


Make time for God. And God will make time for everything else. Loose good for God’s best and you gain. Don’t plan God around your life. Plan your life around God.

He is first and always.

May it be so.

Come closer, my friend. Listen! Do you hear it? The grit of rock against rock. Oh, do look! Do you see it? The rays of sunlight in a dark tomb. Oh, feel the breathlessness in your heart! The impossible is before us, and it is possible.

The stone is rolled aside! The entrance stands open!

Disciples stagger, unbelieving. Women crumble, in tears. Roman guards collapse, stunned.

They stood staring at a gapping tomb that day.

We stand before another door today.

Not just one entrance opened that morning. Another did as well. Blood broke the lock. The life of Jesus served as the key to the throne room of God. The door to that room was big. Oak, perhaps. Solid, oak. Massive. Strong. Burly. Enormous. Unmoving. It was big, my friend.

But Jesus…

Jesus is bigger.

That door? It stands open now. Wide open.

Jesus opened the door between a perfect, holy God…and you. Me. Unworthy meets worthy. Imperfection meets perfection. Ugliness meets beauty.

Jesus life opened that door. His blood stains the wood. His scent whiffs in the entrance.

GOD, yes, GOD wants you. And the door is open. The lock turned. The stone pushed aside. An open pathway lies between you and GOD.

GOD.  Abba Father.


Jesus was the key and the door is open.

Do you get this?

The door to the throne room – the very presence of God – stands open. Waiting. Beckoning.


Do come.

Please come, my friend.

Step through the door, under the blood of the Lamb.

The stone is rolled away.

The door is open.


Come, my friend.

Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.


It takes work to break walls down. Hard work. It’s sweat. It’s grit. It’s tears. It’s pain. It’s ugly.

Do we care that much?

To purposely put ourselves out on the limb and risk our lives and time and reputation for another? To go beyond our heart to fight for another’s heart? To care so much that it hurts? Gut wrenching hurt?

That’s grit love.

The kind of crazy love that Jesus has for us.

I want that kind of love.

Oh, I do.

God help me.

 “In a good bookroom you feel in some mysterious way that you are absorbing the wisdom contained in all the books through your skin, without even opening them.”

– Mark Twain 


Ah, yes! One who shares my thought!

You’re standing in a library. A bookstore. Breathe deep. Smell the ink. Hear the stir of the pages. Feel the soft book covers. See the rows upon rows of volumes. They hold words. Many words. Many worlds.

Unlimited realms at your fingertips.

Reach out. Wrap your fingers around that book. The fat one. On the third shelf. Tucked in the far corner. With a jagged crease. Brush the worn title. Smile. Crack it open.


A door to another world has been opened. Drink deep.

“Every Day Deserves A Chance” by Max Lucado


“Brighten your day by envisioning God running toward you.

When His patriarchs trusted, God blessed. When Peter preached or Paul wrote or Thomas believed, God smiled. But He never ran.

That verb was reserved for the story of the prodigal son. “But when He was still a great way off, His father saw Him and had compassion, and ran and fell on His neck and kissed Him.” – Luke 15:20 nkjv

God runs when He sees the son coming home from the pig trough. When the addict steps out of the alley. When the teen walks away from the party. When the ladder-climbing executive pushes back from the desk, the spiritist turns from idols, the materialist from stuff, the atheist from disbelief, and the elitist from self promotion…

When prodigals trudge up the path, God can’t sit still. Heaven’s throne room echoes with the sound of slapping sandals and pounding feet, and angels watch in silence as God embraces His child.

You turn toward God, and He runs toward you.”