Eyes Wide Open

 

 

I come empty handed. Not by accident. It's taken years. But, they are empty.

 

You told me "if I would give You what was in them, You would give me what was in Yours".

 

I'm child-like enough to believe. So I have come again to remind You that they hold nothing...but the hope of Your word.

 

I read the words of another and she shares from a heart of fullness. Details that I would desire to right about in my own story...here and now...but i wait. In the unseen, they are seen. They are like laughter to the child. Like a sunrise to the dying. To me they are faith.

 

So I stand in the emptiness and wait for the fullness.

 

But, I don't stand in silence. My heart sings with wild melody as one who waits with eyes wide open.

 

 

Mountain Experience

Who would imagine the first trip to see the mountains would forever frame my world? I was a Texas "flat-lander". The closest thing to a mountain that I had ever seen was a west Texas hill. It wasn't a mountain, even though it felt like one as I frantically outran a wild hog chasing me into my friends cabin. I was eighteen...and very grateful I had ran track.

Nothing had prepared me for the experience I would have on top of the Sante Fe Ski Resort a couple of years later. I was the only female who made the trip with Clay, my boyfriend, and a group of college guys. I wasn't the only first-timer. But, Clay decided he would be my personal instructor. He saw no need in wasting time on the bunny-slope.

The view was absolutely overwhelming! I was breathless as I tried to get on the chair-lift and take in all of the landscape. I had longed to see this view my whole life. I was so distracted with the beauty I failed to notice that my personal instructor was not taking me to a slope for beginners. Not even an intermediate slope. It might as well have been a triple black! I was in over my head. Yes, I made it down, forty-five minutes later! The first thing to touch that slope was my nose, as I tumbled recklessly out of the lift. On the three day trip I never improved my lift exiting skills. And of course, each time I appeared to do some type of preschool gymnastic maneuver...my handsome instructor came saddling up next to me and heroically put my ski's back onto my embarrassed little ski boots. In order to make it down the mountain I had to do quite the zig-zag approach, in order not to gain more speed than those little ski's could handle. It wasn't Olympic quality...but it worked. Sort of.

It was our last morning there and we only had time for one run before leaving. We were half way up the mountain when we realized a blizzard was moving in. Visibility began to diminish and the bitter cold began to bite. I began to panic as I realized how long it would take me to make the run. Knowing I would not be able to exit the lift without a fall I began to faintly breathe. As if on cue I made my normal exit falling abruptly with both ski's flying out from under me. It was at that moment I heard the loudest clap of thunder imaginable. It was as if it had swallowed me whole. I was frantically calling to Clay who was ten feet in front of me ,to come help me put my ski's on when I realized the lift had stopped just above my head with people stranded on it. Even though I was panicking he refused to come back up towards me and help. I struggled with the ski's as well as why he refused to come to my rescue. But, there wasn't time to argue. I managed to get both ski's on as Clay told me to follow him closely. The slope we had taken was a rather narrow one with nothing but a drop off on one side. Half way down the run we would have to follow a narrow bridge that connected to another mountain which would lead us safely down. If we failed to connect with the bridge we didn't have a clue if the trail would continue. With visibility low, Clay knew I would be safest if I followed his lead.

It couldn't have been more than a couple-hundred feet when visibility became almost impossible. I couldn't see even 10 feet in front of me. Somehow I had lost sight of him. I began to yell but the heaviness of the snow was deafening. I was alone. I was all alone! No matter how loud I yelled only my voice could I hear. I knew no one would be coming from behind me because the lift had stopped in mid-air. How would I know how far to cut over before plummeting over the side of the mountain? How would I ever manage to see the connecting bridge that would lead me to the lodge at the half-way point?

I had lived a life of fear. I knew how fast a pulse could race. How it could sound so loud in my ears in the middle of a dark night. But, I had never thought that this might really be the last moments of my life. To say I was scared would have been a lie. I was so past the point of being scared. I was sure I would never make it out alive. Even if I could keep from falling off of the edge of the mountain would I ever be able to find my way to the bridge. I knew Jesus. I had been saved eight months before the trip. I had heard how He was real. I had read the children's bible when I was young. David and Goliath on a bulletin board of felt. I had prayed but was never certain that I was heard.  But there wasn't time to pray...my eyelashes were freezing and icicles were hanging from my eye brows. Fingers and face were beginning to numb and I knew I had to be close to the bridge. Out of the depths of my soul I frantically cried out "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus". Three words hurled from fear, not faith. Three words that forever changed my world. It was as if the heavens had opened wide and I was in the portal. He flipped a switch somewhere deep within me. It went from full throttle fear to a peace that surpassed understanding. I was still all alone looking for a bridge to life and I found the most unexplainable, the most perfect peace I had ever felt. Everything within me quited like a crying baby nestled to it's mothers breast. I was safe. I was secure. I looked to my right and there was the white laden bridge. I made it to the lodge as if it had been a walk in the park with total peace enveloping me.

Clay explained that lightning had struck the ski lift cable right above my head. He was fearful if he had walked up to help me with my ski's I would have accidentally stepped on the electrical cable which was only a couple inches from touching my boot. He knew if he had told me how close it was I would have turned to look and possibly have been electrocuted in the process. If he had rescued me I would never have known the depths of peace that only Jesus can give. I would have lived short of the miraculous. How many times have I pleaded for flesh to rescue me when Jesus stood in the silence waiting for me to cry to Him?

I no longer saw Jesus as a felt figure on a Sunday School bulletin board. No one could have given me such an immediate sense of peace when adrenaline was pouring from my pores. No one could have ever found the switch in me to push, let alone have had the ability to push it on top of that frozen mountain. He had heard my cry. Not Davids...not Noah's...but mine. He was there. We were all alone, just the two of us. He rescued me with His peace. He gave this flat-lander a mountain top experience she will never forget. Since that day I have never doubted  that He is real. He is alive! He hears my cry! He knows "my" voice! I have been recklessly saved! I have been recklessly loved!

Treasure For The Taking

There is a stirring within me. I have felt it before. It's a new beginning for me. Reminds me of how You hoovered over the chaos in Genesis, the beginning of beginnings. Your Spirit overshadowed that which was unseen, that which appeared to be random disorder and You brought into vision that which could only have been imagined! You are about to do it again. In me. I can always feel Your presence right before You bring order to my disorder. Right before You pull all of the random pieces together to show me what Masterpiece You have been working on. I'm never disappointed.

What order would come from filtering every detail of my days through the Cross and the Resurrection? They are either the filter or their not. There is no in between. How much of life have I limped along as if the Cross was my end. Ticket to Glory in hand...but lame for today? Forgiven and loved...but powerless to rise up with mat in tow. With the earthquake of Calvary rocks were split into...but with the violence of the tomb emptying, the enormous boulder was hurled aside. Linens nice and tidy were all that was found when dust settled! The linens were a picture of an old Hebrew custom which meant 'I will return once again'.

When You return will you find any faithful? It was You that posed the question. I ask myself the same. Will You find me faithful? Will I live as if the Resurrection was truly the grand finale and not the Cross? Will I wear an empty tomb on a chain around the neck instead of a couple of timbers? Will I refuse to allow thoughts or circumstances to dictate my reality? Or will I believe the love letters that You left behind for me? Those written in Your blood with urgency as the verb tense.

Your promises are for the taking. The price already paid. The fullness of the treasures You purchased...awaits me...and for those who believe! Will you find me faithful?

I Love You

"I love You". Nothing else said. Nothing else spoken. I repeat it often during my day. I catch Your fragrance, a memory, a wooing, sometimes an intentional direction of my affection. It pours from my lips like rain off saturated leaves. For a moment I'm embarassed. How silly and simple I must sound! Couldn't I come up with something more eloquent for the One who created words? So I pose the question, to the One who writes language and ask "if You tire of me saying it to You, over and over again"?

Your answer comes instantly. Immediately my mind races back to three little toe-headed girls, all dressed in pink. Always dressed in pink. Never failing, as I would walk into their presence, with their backs turned, or fine wisp of hair hanging over eyes playing with babies of their own, never looking up, softly spilling into my hearing, "Mommy, I love you". Several times a day. Countless times stretched over years as they toddled. Never once did I weary of hearing it. Never once, did it grow old. As a matter of fact...it almost took me by surprise each time. It delighted me to often be reminded of their affections for my presence in their little worlds of pink. It wasn't necessary for eyes to meet or smiles to be exchanged. All that was needed was for the fragrance of their love to be spilled out, onto my listening ears and exposed heart. It was enough for them to simply share it. Love simply shared is never too simple. It is the glue that connects heaven to earth...and my heart to my Beloved's. He assures me that He never tires of hearing of my love for Him. I can feel Him smile!

In The Center of Peace

How does life get so complicated? Where does one go to find peace? I am always looking for an exit sign to the closest route out of here. It's a different circumstance with different characters and different scenery...but everything about it looks all too familiar. I am the common denominator. It's my heart that is wrestling against my reality once more. Thinking if I can make it out of this one alive...I will be able to enjoy the next season. Somewhere my thinking gets all misconstrued. So I hang on for life and try to ride the current out to a peaceful place of rest...only to be hit once again by a swollen surging wave.

I heard a comedian sharing about a tortuous night he had on a house-boat on a tornadic stormy night. He was tossed to and fro with sounds that were deafening. He could hear the freight train funnel going through the area where his boat was being all but capsized against the tiny marina where the boat was tied. When the nightmare had passed and he slowly crawled out to see what damage had occured around him, he began to talk to another owner of a nearby boat. As he used his humor to explain how horrifying the storm had been he finished by saying "If I had known I was going to live through it...I would have just enjoyed the ride!"

How many seasons have I spent wondering if I was going to make it through? Only to get to the other side and find myself with the same question in the next season. How would my days look if I just assumed I would survive? How might the script of my life read differently if I just chose to enjoy the ride...trusting that I was going to live through it? Finding peace in the midst of the moment. Finding rest from the legs that always are looking for the exit sign. How would it feel to simply sit down in the big middle of now and breathe? To determine that I will make it out of this one...and I will enjoy the ride. For I'm not riding alone. You are with me. Your right hand upholds me...and all is well! All is well! Be still my soul and breathe! Simply breathe in peace, for it is all around. Open wide the eyes and enjoy the ride!

Breathless

You never fail to surprise me!I found a new song today. As I'm learning the lyrics I realize I already know them. To an outsider they may seem risque'...but to one whose heart has been ravaged...they are but breath! There was a time, not so long ago, that I would not have been able to sing in harmony with such deep intimacy. I would have thought the words belonged to another. To one more beautiful. To one more pure...more lovely than I.

But, once again, You have written them so slowly and so tenderly upon the pages of my soul...that I believe they belong to me. I find myself "knowing" that this is the light you see me in...with rays of color and hues of light that rapture. You know my every thought and yet You call me into such deep melody with Yourself. We are caught up, just the two of Us...and I am not sure where I stop and where You begin.

Everything within me pants after You and Your presence...Your heartbeat. You are light to my eyes and melody to my heart. When I come and dance with You I find myself...like never before. Eye's open wide and heart exposed beating there right next to Yours and I am a million miles away, yet I am here. It is there against Your chest, as We dance into the night, that I hear the hush of eternity as the stillness of a symphony. I am breathless. I am raptured! I AM YOURS!

Identical Twins

Faith. It seems like such a complicated word. More complicated at times than others. I have recently read that faith is when the thoughts of our head are in agreement with the thoughts of our heart. Faith is when our theology is an identical twin to our deepest heart-held beliefs.

What would disappointment look like in my life, if my theology became my feelings? This is where the tug of war begins. It is where it always begins. There is a dicotomy within my members. My experience boast of a truth that is in dark contrast to that which my spirit declares. It is here the war begins! Sadly, my experience, my flesh, often wins the battle. Which leaves me as less than a conquerer, not more than, which the bible promises.

We think doubt is a lack of faith. It is not. Doubt is faith in something "other than" Truth. Doubt is not unbelief, as much as it is a strong-held belief in something "other than" what God, The Creator, has told us is true. We ask God for more faith. But we are told that to every man is given a measure. It is not faith which we are in need of. I believe that our measure of faith is found in our spirit-man. It never leaves or forsakes us. Doubt on the other hand is accumulative and grows each time we are hurt or disappointed. Each time life doesn't seem to add up, doubt becomes bigger. The identical twins of theology and heart-held beliefs have become double-minded men.

James tells me "to consider it pure joy when I face trials of many kinds...if I lack wisdom in the trial I should ask for it from the Father. But when I ask, I must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does."

Double minded means to seperate one's self in a hostile spirit, to oppose, strive with dispute, to contend. To be at variance with one's self. When we are in opposition to Truth, we are in opposition to self. We are in a civil war...as Truth resides in us if we are a beleiver. We are not living in harmony with our "true-self" when we are in doubt. It is not that faith does not reside in us...it is that doubt occupies too much of our hearts real estate.

God cannot reward our half trust in Him. Let not the double-minded man think he will receive anything from the Lord. God cannot reward anything that is in direct opposition to truth, because it is in direct opposition to us. It is in war against the very faith that resides in us. To reward doubt would be to dilute faith...and faith cannot be diluted.