Category: The Presence of God

Posted on

A Trip Around The Pasture

Walking in the pasture is a time for talking with God about my day, mulling over a scripture or song running around in my head, interceding for a loved one, or simply praising Him for who He is.

Yesterday was no exception.  As my eyes wandered around the pasture, I praised Him for His incredible gift of nature: this delightful landscape with its tall prairie grass waving in the soft breeze, the purple verbena,  the yellow primrose, the deep blue indigo, the tiny daisy-like flea-bane waving for my attention.

Walking in the pasture, I know I must closely attend to the path and my feet or I will stumble, and  I want to avoid the occasional sprawl I have made into the dust over the years. With my slow gait and focused attention on the path before me, I had time to ponder some of my daily reading. The focus had been on Jesus walking with His disciples on their way to Bethany,  and as I walked I couldn’t help but wonder what it might have been like to have walked with Jesus in His world.

I imagine they walked with purpose. Miles of purpose: to get from town to town, to a wedding.  to a friend’s house for dinner, to Jerusalem for the Passover. Sometimes the journey would have covered sixty to eighty miles to the final destination.

But they would not have been hurried.

Oh, how I would have loved to listen to those conversations. Probably very mundane at times, like, “Master, should we hurry a bit and try to catch up with Peter?” Or, “Master, I am sure you know where we will stay tonight.”

As I walked this Kansas trail, I watched my feet, listened to their shuffling through the low-cut grass, and I imagined Jesus was walking beside me, adjusting His gait to mine. Hesitantly, I talked. I talked a bit about my aches and pains, about the beautiful world He had created here; rambling talk about my world and my ponderings.

Finally, I was silent. And He was silent. But it was the kind of silence so comfortable I felt no more need to talk. It was the kind of silence that said, “Peace, I leave with you. My peace I give unto you. Not as the world gives.”

I was content to walk, quiet in the strength of His presence and promises.

I thought of the world outside of Kitten Creek. The world comes crashing into our lives through the media and bombards us as we step outside of our safe world. That world that is contorted by the forces of evil waging war.

In no hurry to leave His companionship in the pasture, I slowly made my way down the gravel drive to the world below.   Leaving the peaceful pasture, my steps were slow and reluctant. But, I encouraged myself by the Truth of what He had been telling me:

I  carry this peace back into the troubled world because this presence of Christ surrounds me, covers me, and goes before me. I take Jesus with me, not just in my imagination, but in the very real dimension of spiritual grace and presence.

And I can walk with purpose, for I am walking my way to my Heavenly destination.

As I go, hopefully, I won’t rush. I won’t be impatient with the difficult path or cower from the frightening disruptions. And if I sprawl in the dust as I lose focus, He will be there to pick me up and set me back on course.  Halleluja!

Posted on

“Come”

 

” Come.”

You are calling out to me, Jesus,

“Come.” How often I have heard it in the recesses of my mind.

“Come.”

But it doesn’t ring out above the other voices, those loud and demanding voices.  Yours is soft and gentle, and I have to stop and listen carefully to hear it:

“Come.”

Instead, I listen to the call that demands productivity: “Get it done, now.”

Rather than lying in bed and listening to that still, small voice first thing in the morning, I sleep in until Judd awakes, and then dash to get dressed, make the bed, and get the coffee pot going.

And you say “Come.”

 

Waiting for the coffee, I look out the kitchen window and see the chickens pacing in the coop waiting to be released, the donkey and goat standing at the gate expectantly watching the kitchen window for a glimpse of movement. And they say, “Come.”

I must do chores . . . now.

I also know that on the other side of the door to the garage there is a cat, sitting on his haunches, staring at the door and listening carefully to my footsteps inside the house. As I open the door to the garage, Tom jumps up and walks me to his dish. I give him a pat on the head, feed him, and go out to the pen.

And, instead of worshiping while I minister to these, my pets, my dear charges,  I am hurrying. Why? The next thing is waiting to be done. “Be productive” is the voice I hear.

And you, standing in the shadows, softly say, “Come.”

But now, Jesus, other voices drown out your sweet voice.

Because we are anxious to hear what is happening in the world., we eat our breakfast in front of the television.

I know you are in ultimate control of the world’s situation and I want to see what you are doing. That is my rationale for going back again and again to those voices.

But the news is delivered in anxiety-producing verbiage. A devastating, catastrophic storm is approaching the western coast of Florida. Russia is threatening nuclear war.  North Korea is sending up intercontinental ballistic missiles. The entire world is suffering and in turmoil: floods, fires, starvation, and civil unrest.

And godlessness. I hear the values You have tried to teach us being trampled by an ungodly culture.

While I listen to those voices, your voice is crowded out and I am a bit like Peter. You say to come, but I am watching the waves of this unsettled world. So I lose the comfort of your voice and your calming presence and the waves begin to flood over my soul.

And more voices are calling. Those voices hit my ears, invade my space, control my thoughts, compel me to listen.

I remember a dream I had years ago:

………………………………………………………………………………………………

There are two ways to reach the rocky road that leads to the pasture. One is through the barnyard which usually means going through several gates; the other is around the top of the barn, past the double sliding doors, along the roof of the old stable, through a wooded area, and upward to the open pasture.

At that time I had been busy and was stuck in the mundane existence of daily life. My world had become smaller, duller, and ordinary. No great inspiration compelled me to do my daily prayer walk or even expect my regular quiet time to inspire me. I was experiencing a gray world, one of those times when life was just Boring.

Then I took a walk.

I had decided to take the trail past the top of the barn.

The same old, gray world met my senses. I walked past the top of the barn, past the doors, and through the gate.

However, as I began the steep climb to the pasture, my gaze fell upon something I had never seen here before: A lush, ivy-covered hillside had replaced the rocky soil of the forest. Hidden in a crevice was a low, stone grotto. The air I breathed was soft and perfumed.

At the side of the trail, a white-robed figure emerged and quietly walked toward me, stretching out his hands. Though I had never seen him before, I instantly recognized him. He was loving, though somehow fierce; inviting, yet not safe; gentle, yet strong.

I stopped, amazed at what I saw. My eyes filled with tears, my heart with shame. His soft voice cut into my soul: “Yes, Nancy, I have been waiting here for you to come for a long time.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The shock woke me from my dream. I lay in the darkened bedroom in a mixture of awe and worship. “I wait,” he said, “sometimes in surprising places to remind you that I am always here. Always. . . if you open your eyes to see.”

To this day, as I walk past the bend in the path and look at the wooded hillside,I sometimes look for that grotto and that stranger. I remind myself that, even though I can’t see Him with my eyes, He is there. He is here. He is waiting and He calls “Come.”

Os Guinness uses the phrase a world without windows to describe today’s culture that has denied the supernatural. Only what we can see, taste, and feel with our senses is real. And when that world is harsh, gray, or painful, it is all we have.

My life was charged with Reality in the next few days, weeks, and months after that dream. I had had the kind of encounter that wakens the soul in expectation.

However, I also move and have my being in that world without windows, and it is easy to fall back into a dazed existence, one where I feel no need for God in any area of my life. I grow blind, once again, to the world that Gerard Manly Hopkins so aptly describes as “charged with the grandeur of God.”

Today, I am not suffering from dullness or boredom. Just the opposite. I am filled with creeping, lurking anxiety. I am burdened. My soul is burdened. I need rest.

Jesus, You say, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Yes, Jesus, I am weary. I need the rest only You can give. Rest for my soul.

The old song “Just as I am,” the one we used to sing for sinners, is ringing in my heart. Well, I am a sinner. And I come, just as I am. Weary, needing to learn more of You. And I won’t wait because I know You are patiently waiting to teach me, to fill me with the peace that only you can offer.

Just as I am and waiting not, I come.

”https://youtu.be/HZV5fwmqsI0

 

Posted on

Bethlehem Revisited

Ah, life feels more typical these days! Last Sunday, a menagerie of people from young to elderly filled our living /dining area. All of them with vital roles in the planning and execution of Bethlehem Revisited.

Shut down for a year; once again, we are planning our annual Christmas event. Bethlehem Revisited is central to much that goes on here at the farm. Our grandchildren have grown up living through all of the stages:  planning meetings, workdays, the days of the event, which usually begin early in the day with preparation for that day and into the late hours of closing down for each day, and the final clean-up afterward. For them, it means not just work, but community, a vital community, working together for an eternal good: telling the story of Redemption.

A few years ago, I felt compelled to write about the story of the farm, to show how God walked with us through all the years of unwrapping His presence through everyday life. In the midst of that walk, Bethlehem Revisited emerged as a vital component of how God desired to use this farm. My book, Searching for His Presence, On Kitten Creek, was written for all who have or will visit the farm. The book is my testimony of the faithfulness of a God who yearns to make every moment holy.

Posted on

Hope and Peace

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.       Romans 15:13

I breathe in the clean, crisp air of a new morning. The rain has washed the landscape, my geraniums and petunias are bursting in their brilliant reds, purples, and whites. Familiar warbles and bird-songs in the trees above, a gentle baa from the barnyard, and I relax with my cup of coffee, content to know that this is my Father’s world.

He is the God of hope, and yes, he does fill me with all joy and peace . . . at this moment.

But what if I were in the middle of the fires that our neighbors are facing? What if I had been told last night that my loved one had been killed in an accident? What if I had listened to the news before I had my first cup of coffee?

Would God still be my source who fills me with joy and peace and hope?

 Joy. Peace. Hope. Is there any hope left in this fallen world threatened by extinction from virus, political upheaval, storms, fires, and violence? From where do joy and peace come when every newscast is brimming with the degradation of our culture?   Despair would be more natural.

Yet, I find hope, not by the world’s standards, nor because of my own optimistic soul. I find hope in a sovereign God. And I find joy and peace because I trust him to refill me again and again through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Yes, I am not alone, nor am I facing this world in my own power, with my own strength, with my own wisdom. This most comforting thought sustains my hope, peace, and yes, joy.

It is not optimism to trust all His promises. And I know those promises because I know Him.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.

Romans 15:13 | NIV | faith Spirit Holy Spiri

Posted on

“Here All the Time.”

There are two ways to reach the rocky road that leads to the pasture. One is through the barnyard which usually means going through several gates; the other is around the top of the barn, past the double sliding doors, along the roof of the old stable, through a wooded area, and upward to the open pasture.

I had been busy and was stuck in the mundane existence of daily life. My world had become smaller, duller, and ordinary. No great inspiration compelled me to do my daily prayer walk or even expect my regular quiet time to inspire me. I was experiencing a gray world, one of those times when life was just Boring.

Then I took a walk.

I had decided to take the trail past the top of the barn.

The same old, gray world met my senses.

However, rounding the stable walls, my gaze fell upon something I had never seen here before: A lush, ivy-covered hillside had replaced the rocky soil of the forest. Hidden in a crevice was a low, stone grotto. The air I breathed was soft and perfumed.

At the side of the trail, a white-robed figure emerged and quietly walked toward me, stretching out his hands. Though I had never seen him before, I instantly recognized him. He was loving, though somehow fierce; inviting, yet not safe; gentle, yet strong.

I stopped and dropped my head. My eyes filled with tears, my heart with shame. His soft voice cut into my soul: “Yes, Nancy, I have been waiting here for you for a long time.”

The shock woke me from my dream. I lay in the darkened bedroom in a mixture of awe and worship. “I wait,” he said, “sometimes in surprising places to remind you that I am always here. Always. . . if you open your eyes to see.”

Os Guinness uses the phrase a world without windows to describe today’s culture that has denied the supernatural. Only what we can see, taste, and feel with our senses is real. And when that world is harsh, gray, or painful, it is all we have.

My life was charged with Reality in the next few days, weeks, and months after that dream. I had had the kind of encounter that wakens the soul in expectation.

However, I also move and have my being in that world without windows, and it is easy to fall back into a dazed existence, one where I feel no need for God in any area of my life. I grow blind, once again, to the world that Gerard Manly Hopkins so aptly describes as “charged with the grandeur of God”! (see https://www.bartleby.com/122/7.html)

These days, as I walk past the bend in the path and look at the wooded hillside, I sometimes look for that grotto and that stranger. I remind myself that, even though I can’t see Him with my eyes, He is there. He is here. He is waiting for me to see.

God, show me the Real beyond the walls of this world. I want to know that you are here, invading my world with your Reality and power.