… 3 little words …

Eyeballing the two Christmas frenzied weeks and deciding resolutely to say no to many invitations and say yes to blank space on my calendar.  Swimming against the current of downtown crowd when the whole world immerses in the clashing sounds of shopping bags and gift receipts; finding, in my surprise, His peace and eternal treasures.

Sitting quietly in the living room stills the many hurry ups as you see the snow blowing sideways in all directions, yet your lungs welcome the sleepy fireplace hypnotising you into a complete shut down of your mind.

Snuggling with your child in that dimmed light space; inhabited by two tiny souls in this world. Whispering, “do you know mami loves you?” to her ears; out of her sweet lips, she replies, “I do, mami; I do.”

Arching bible spine, opening flately on the dining table is 2 Kings 4. Holding her eyes onto the twenty eight verses silently with a spoon dangling in her hand.  Modelling the hunger for His words when food on her dinner plate are simply not enough to feed and nourish.

Waking up to a long stretch of silence waiting for the Lord to breathe His Word gently all over me.  In the bosom of 2 Kings 4, my daughter and I are butterfly catching His promises and proclaiming such joy as the abundant daily portion.

Closing into one month long of waiting.  Accepting the reality of all the possible whatifs like a stone thrown onto the pond, rippling circles of changes.

Touching my way into the dark.  My wondering is met by His overflowing supply of showing Himself up in an acrobatic squirrel balancing its stroll up in the air on a thin line.

Dipping my hand into the unknown.  My sinking ship is met by an uncommon word used in a daily sentence.  Word, like “supernova”, popping in my head in the morning and coming visit again on shelves of birthday card.

Stepping into a warehouse of shoeboxes; delighting in nearly 3 hours of labour and conversation.  Seeing His eyes snooping down from heaven.  Unveiling the thick curtain.  Shrinking the magnitude of such, in the context of His Kingdom, and showing me that He cares for the one inaudible prayer.  No one can hear it, but He can and He is answering.

Such inaudibility is as loud as an outcry of intercession for many.

Such inaudibility of one personal prayer, in His heart, is as close as the many others.

Such inaudibility of begging reinforce how He yearns to pour His truth to the molding of my obedience like wet cement.   How magnified He is in all things shows me the intimacy He yearns for from me in this very place, standing and waiting with me.

Standing and waiting with me for an erupting {Joy} only through waiting.  Such waiting results in a rippling effect of praises and worship.

He stands with me in silence, waiting.

He stands with me when my logic swings like a pendulum, still waiting.

He stands with me when one sentence of my prayer cries for trusting and obeying and the next cries for delivering and liberating, yet still waiting.

He stands with me when solace found in Buchanan’s words, yet I am still waiting.

Jesus entered this darkness for you.  There is no darkness in which He hasn’t gone.  There is no darkness He won’t meet you in.  There is no darkness that can hide Him.  There is no darkness He won’t, in time, lead you out of. … I believe every heartache and hardship, and the profound loneliness such things bring, has a back door.  They allow us entry into a communion with Christ we don’t usually experience in our days of ease and song.  Most of us have had our deepest encounters with Christ not on mountaintops but in valley floors.

Most of us have had our deepest encounters with Christ not on mountaintops but in valley floors.

Henry Noumen wrote this,

The vision offered by Jesus stands in sharp contrast to this worldly vision. Jesus shows, both in his teachings and in his life, that true {Joy} often is hidden in the midst of our sorrow, and that the dance of life finds its beginnings in grief.  Here a completely new way of living is revealed.

It is the way in which pain can be embraced, not out of a desire to suffer, but in the knowledge that something new will be born in pain.

Jesus calls our pains “labour pains”. The cross has become the most powerful symbol of this new vision. The cross is a symbol of death and of life, of suffering and of joy, of defeat and of victory.  It’s the cross that shows us the way.

The twinned element of power and weakness; resurrection and death; glory and suffering are in full bloom.

Dear Jesus, you carried your cross with courage.  Be with me as I carry mine. Be with me when I am on valley floors, you would give me Your ease flooding in my heart floor and Your songs anointing my quivering lips; crying with {Joy} praising Your famous name, singing “You are enough.  Let it go. For You are enough. Let our shadows fall away like dust.  For You are enough.  As surely as the Lord lives, I will not leave you. For You are enough.

you-are-enough

When we woke up
The world was figured out
Beyond the beauty we’ve dreamt about.
This brilliant light is brighter than we’ve known,
Without our darkness to prove it so.
Still, we can’t help but to examine it,
To add our question marks to periods.
At the foot of our bed, we found an envelope…

“You are enough.”
These little words, somehow they’re changing us.
“You are enough.”
So we let our shadows fall away like dust.

When we grew up,
Our shadows grew up too.
But they’re just old ghosts
That we grow attached to.
The tragic flaw is that they hide the truth

That you’re enough.
I promise you’re enough.
I promise you’re enough, I promise you.

“You are enough.”
These little words, somehow they’re changing us.
“You are enough,”
So we let our shadows fall away like dust.
“You are enough.”
These little words, somehow they’re changing us.
Let it go, let it go, “You are enough.”
So we let our shadows fall away like dust.

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