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Beckoning

He calls me and beckons me to come.

 

Come nestle under His wings.

 

For He will cover you with His feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge. Psalm 91:4a

 

Like a young toddler wrestles sleep, I struggle against His rest.

 

My husband would rather I let the dishes crust, let the laundry wrinkle, and let the crumbs sit awhile, if it would simply mean that I would have more of me to give him. And I wonder if in all my meager attempts to live for Jesus – to seek Him and find Him and do for Him – if He would rather that I simply rest in Him.

 

 

I wonder if in all my supposed doing for Him, if I’m actually running from Him.

 

How do you simply BE with Him in the midst of all the tedium and glory of every day life? I certainly don’t know, but I long to find out.

 

Maybe the rest is found in the stopping the perpetual-raising-two-kids-craziness . . . just to sing.

 

Maybe it’s in the continual everyday reminders of what is truly important….

 

Because it’s really easy for this heart of mine to get so caught up in the commotion of this life. The attempts to raise two kids, the striving to be a loving wife, the hoping and dreaming and wrestling the what-ifs.

 

I just want to rest in Him. I just want to see His fingerprints on my life. I just want to tangibly feel His loving arms around me.

 

Because He is our Beloved.

 

Jesus, I am resting, resting in the joy of what thou art;

I am finding out the greatness of thy loving heart.

Thou has bid me gaze upon thee,

as thy beauty fills my soul,

for by thy transforming power, thou hast made me whole.

 

O how great thy lovingkindness, vaster, broader than the sea!

O how marvelous thy goodness lavished all on me!

Yes, I rest in thee, Beloved, know what wealth of grace is thine,

know thy certainty of promise and have made it mine.

 

Simply trusting thee, Lord Jesus, I behold thee as thou art,

and thy love, so pure, so changeless, satisfies my heart;

satisfies its deepest longings, meets, supplies its ev’ry need,

compasseth me round with blessings:

thine is love indeed.

 

Ever lift thy face upon me as I work and wait for thee;

resting ‘neath they smile, Lord Jesus earth’s dark shadows flee.

Brightness of my Father’s glory, sunshine of my Father’s face,

keep me ever trusting, resting, fill me with thy grace.

 

Jesus, I am resting, resting in the joy of what thou art;

I am finding out the greatness of thy loving heart.

~Jean Sophia Pigott

In Grateful Chorus Raise We

He brings up the subject, the one that has me on pins and needles with hope and expectation, and all I hear is his saying, “No.” Tears burst and heart aches, desires feel impeded.

 

More waiting. More stamina for the waiting necessitated. I am weary with the waiting.

 

Then the window of his soul opens and thoughts and conviction tumble out and things I used to pray for . . . things I had given up on . . . make themselves known.

 

And I didn’t know it until he voiced it, but I had lost hope for this. But when least expected, a coursing hope sweeps away the pining tears and my weariness turns to joy.

 

They thought Jesus was coming to rescue them from the tyranny of the Romans. He rescued them from something much greater, much more sinister.

 

I thought He was readying to rescue me from my waiting. He stirs and chains much more strangling are beginning to loose. He rescues us from our inky-black apathy. The Star is brightly shining and He leads us to Himself, the Great Rescuer.

 

 

Hearts, be still

“So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child,  and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.”

 

It stood in the very front of the store. Just resting. Hurried shoppers all raced by, hardly giving it a glance, and I did too. My girls and I, we trekked up and down the aisles full of glitter, artificial evergreen and “50% off “sale signs. I paid for our things, bundled the girls’ coats, and walked through the automatic doors to head out to the car. And then I stopped. There was a creche, nearly as big as life.

 

“Come, look!” I called to my oldest as she was running toward the last set of doors before the parking lot. We had almost missed it.

 

For maybe all of thirty seconds, we stood still and thirstily took in the scene before us. The wise men, oxen, and Mary kneeling over the Manger-boy . . . they were all there. It took my breath away. Oh, let me remain here.

 

Dear sisters, in the midst of a North American Christmas season, in the hustle and bustle of shopping and baking and partying, may we be like Mary in all the flurry of Jesus’ birth. In the midst of the hurrying shepherds, the rejoicing angels and resplendent wise men, she pondered. Let our hearts be as still.