power

For the Restless and Unsettled…

It’s midnight right now. I’m tucked away in the closet, trying to ignore the pile of dirty clothes in the floor, stacked up shoes, and trash bag full of “Goodwill stuff.”

The week ahead is busy. Crazy. I’ve said yes a lot lately. To good things. Things I’m honestly so, so excited about.

But I’m easily overwhelmed. Then restless. Then unsettled. And then…well…up at midnight, hidden in the closet, with fingernails chewed to the quick.

I know busyness doesn’t equate holiness. And I know everything that comes from Heaven doesn’t have my name on it.

And I am sure so many of you live lives much, much busier than I could every dream. Bless. Your. Heart.

But somehow there’s peace in knowing none of us are alone. My friend on the other side of the world just texted me. It’s noon there. She said she’s restless.

Wait. Me too. That’s why I’m up…responding to your text.

And I sent this verse to her. And here it is for you this Monday morning.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (II Corinthians 12:9,10)

There aren’t “insults, hardships, persecutions, or calamities” written on my calendar for the week. (Please, Lord, keep them away.) But in a bright red marker, there’s the word GRACE.

And it will be sufficient…For my midnights, Mondays, and eternity.

Because “It is finished.”

Grace…then and now…for all of us…the unsettled…today.

IMG_4360

 

 

 

Advertisements

Notes From If-Part 6

On the plane home…

We get above the clouds, and the sun breaks through. No more rain. Just fresh sunlight. And the storm clouds are still there…just below us now.

All I can see is sun. Glorious. There’s always hope, because He is always there. When it rains I still know He reigns.

So I get up. He takes my hand. And I fly. Freely. Because grace is that huge. That unbelievable. So bright that I blink. Believe. Can’t deny that He is powerful. And He loves me.

Faced darkness in a tomb so I can enjoy the light of His resurrection. The glory of this God came and died for me.

So I “lift up my eyes. Where does my help come from?” The Lord. Who made the rain clouds to astonish me with the sun.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1,2)

photo(31) (Jonathan used to love his paci-and still loves his blankie!)