You’ve called us to do hard things. Life isn’t easy or fair. We ice-skate on treacherous sheets of frozen water in anticipation of the calamity below – holding our breath. Will the ice crack and splinter? Will we fall below into the tundra of the unknown? It depends on what we fix our eyes upon – the good, the lovely, the praiseworthy? If that’s our focus we surely will not drown.
This world spits sulfur and hurls debris at our fragile bodies. We close our eyes – trusting and waiting for deliverance. When will it come, we ask you? You are good, we cry. Show us your favor! Shine down on us the light that illuminates the dark and dissipates the fear hovering over our heads.
We walk like the Israelites trusting in the desert. Gazing at the clouds above and the fire in the sky by night. We know you are near. We cling on to the truth – by faith, not by sight. We know you are watching over our steps; but we are an impatient people. We yearn for the swiftness of your rescue. Unaware of the truth that you are making us stronger in the process, we diligently wait for your army of goodness to infiltrate our camp.
You sing over us – and call us precious gems. We are being refined in the waiting.
“I want a peace beyond my understanding. I want to feel it fall like rain in the middle of my hurting. I want to feel Your arms as they surround me. And let me know that it’s okay to be here in this place. Resting in the peace that only comes. In the waiting.” — Greg Long, In the Waiting
Abba Father, we are ready for your warrior-like skills. We beseech you, sweet Savior, to wave your banner of victory over our heads. Like the people in the time of Ezra, may we fall face down and worship you. May we place our faces in the dirt and elevate our hands – for you are worthy.
Ezra opened the book in full view of all the people, since he was standing above them all, and as he opened it, all the people stood up. Then Ezra blessed the LORD, the great God, and with their hands uplifted, all the people said, “Amen, Amen!” Then they bowed down and worshiped the LORD with their faces to the ground.” — Nehemiah 8:5-6
We may not see the full image of your beautiful, intricate quilt; but we know you are a good Father. We know that you always deliver on your promises. You are the Savior that was wounded and bled for our transgressions. Our names are etched permanently in the palms of your hands.
We sing – hallelujah when we are still unsure of how you are working. We praise you even when we stand soaked in a thunderstorm. We shout at the top of our lungs in every situation – great are you, God! We pray for our enemies and bless those who curse us because you have defeated death.
You deliver. You show up – and you grant your children favor. May we humble ourselves in your presence, open our hands and expect a blessing because he is who has promised is 100 percent faithful!
Precious, merciful Savior – you have healed the stripes that cover every inch of my body. Aching and crying, when I call out to you, you hear me. You lift my face, bowed in complete surrender, and breathe your life altering words over me.
What has our culture become Jesus? One that tramples on your words, one that regards our greatness as supreme, refuses to acknowledge the one that fashioned our bodies, minds and spirits?

Jesus – may your name always be on my lips. You alone are good, God. You alone are majestic. May others see your spirit shining strong and hovering over my life.
Let go of all that holds your heart for ransom, dear child. Do not harbor bitterness, rage or envy in that beautiful pumping vessel. Keep it clean, keep it supple, keep it overflowing with love.
Simple moments. How often do we discard them and seek for the earthquake, colossal happenings in life? We look for the blessings from heaven that everyone will notice. The big events that show up like fireworks in the night sky. The ones that require a parade with confetti and multicolored streamers.
Child, hold your hands out – open your palms to the heavens. Though they appear empty to worldly onlookers, they are gloriously full. You, my sweet one, are filled with my goodness. I have breathed my spirit over your life. My luminous riches sparkle through your eyes. They are pools of my compassion, grace and never-failing truth. You are my witness. You are my voice.
The stones rattle in my hands. Perspiration and fear. Am I strong enough, brave enough to face this giant in the forefront?
Today, I watched my little boy put an oven mitt over his hand and mix up an imaginary meal.