Sunday, March 22, 2015

All the problems of hard times are answered in the presence of Himself.

LORD, hear my prayer, and in Your faithfulness heed my supplications; answer me in Your righteousness. Psalm 143:1

I rode up Sentinel Mountain (realistically, probably just a hill) this morning, celebrating over and over, “God. With. Us.” And the light shone down brightly all around me.

Christ hath risen! Hallelujah!
Friends of Jesus, dry your tears;
Through the veil of gloom and darkness,
Lo, the Son of God appears! –Fanny Crosby

Fanny Crosby was my eight-year-old hero. Not only did I love the stories of her work serving the poor and needy, but I so marveled that even though she was blind, all of the jillions of songs that she wrote joyfully sang of sight and beauty. In spite of the darkness.

And Miss Everette is learning all about the loving and wise parental No even while heeding her supplications. And yesterday she gave it her best shot, pleading for something or other, probably something full of sugar because that is what she likes. And first of all, she did her old standby, “Más, por favor.”

No , Everette.

So then she pulled out her sign language chest thump, pounding almost as ferociously as the gorilla in her favorite book.

No, Everette.

“More please?” In one last gasp attempt, she pulled out English.

No Everette. And I saw myself in her big brown-eyed creativity and persistence. And hardheartedness. Not at all trusting in Momma’s love. Rather she insisted on her way or the highway and did everything she could maneuver to get what she wanted, Now.

This morning I stood at the end of Mary Anne’s sermon, “How to Pray Prayers that Transform Your Life and the Lives of Others,” and confessed that I am not dependent on Him alone. I confess to demanding my own way. I repent. One more time, I resee. See as Fanny Crosby saw. Or as Mary Anne taught from Paul’s prayer in Ephesians, “that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which He has called you.” I long to live in His great wise love and may He be my all. God. With. Us.

Romancing, pursuing, reclaiming
The nail-scarred Lamb
Holy, holy, holy God

I read a book yesterday that reminded me that love and forgiveness are so intermingled as to be indistinguishable.