A Look Back

Photo by Jean

I remembered some things today as I looked back at my Atlantic City pictures, and I am moved to write about them, though they may not make much sense or feel like good news.  It may provide a framework for understanding some things, or it may cause more dissonance.  We see through cloudy glass. 

I was looking at the photos of me watching the sea with all the seagulls around me.  I remember feeling that they were significant at the time but I wasn't sure why, though seagulls have reminded me of angels for some time. Maybe angels are a means of connection.  I'm not sure...but I believe they are with me often.

I'm working on a book.  Well, sometimes I am--I try to write at least something every day.  Sometimes I don't know if it will ever be a book or not.  But those are days of low faith.  I half-seriously joke that I will call it "The Reluctant Prophetess."  Of course that might limit its readership.  But it is how I would describe how I often feel about myself, perhaps even more acutely during that time.

When I was walking along the beach that March, I found a huge, beautiful conch shell.  I sat down on the nearby rocks.  I knew the Lord was going to speak and I was sort of waiting in the way that you wait to hear something that will be hard to listen to.

So basically I said, "OK, Lord, what do you want to tell me."

The first thing He said clearly and simply was this, "You will always be connected." 

It came with all the weight of finality.

Before my questions and objections could arise, He quieted my spirit with a sense that I shouldn't ask more than He wanted to reveal.  And with that came a sense of peace.   

After a while He drew my attention to the shell in my hand.  I held it up to my ear.  I could hear the sea in it.  And He said, "But you will be able to put the shell down or pick it up and listen."

And then He said, "I am going to bless you."  And it was like it echoed over and over again in my ear..."Bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you."

And then He said, "Seven years."

The Lord then gave me understanding--there were decisions made even after clarity was given.  He gave me a reason why.  That explanation was more painful than anything else ever could have been.  I knew then that my wound had been chosen. But at least I knew that God had not planned this, though I believe that He did know I would walk it.  That has been hard to understand...but the Lord has granted me acceptance. 

The Lord gave me many other words over those two days, some of which I have seen come to pass since then.  I still don't think I've fully wrapped my mind around all of it. 

What I have been wrestling with over the past few months is my choice to pick up the shell or put it down. Putting down the shell feels safer.  But it doesn't feel like who I am.  It's not who I want to be.  It doesn't feel like love. Even though picking it up can get so messy. The other day, I picked it up (I keep it over at Jean's) and sand fell out of it into my ear and all over the place.  (Sorry, Jean.)  And having sand in your ear is hard to get used to.

I want to listen, to know and be known, and I want to be under the covering of the wings of the Holy Father and protected from any impurity and anything outside of the will of God.  And I think it is important to enjoy all the blessings God bestows upon us in this life, and cherish our loved ones.  But sometimes I don't know how all of those things can come together in unity.  I'd like to try to walk it.  I'd like to wait and listen and open myself to the nearness.

Today, when I remembered that He told me about always being connected, I was reminded that it was not my doing.  That has greatly settled my spirit from a false sense of responsibility.

My greatest fear is living outside the will of God while believing that I am in it.  My next greatest fear is not fully entering into all that God may offer me in this life because somehow I missed it or was afraid of it or because I made a wrong choice.  And the tension between those fears can only be settled by a God who promises to be my Shepherd.

Hold on 'Til Dawn

Photo by Bgrace

Last night I went through a battle with oppression.  It is certainly not the first time, and probably not the last.  The intensity with which it came was pretty strong,  but I didn't completely lose my bearings.  I felt like I knew how to fight. 
Sometimes when people talk about how Satan oppresses, they use a lot of generalities and categories. The thing is that when you are being oppressed Satan doesn't exactly carry a neon sign that says, "I am oppressing you, take notice." In fact, he's really good at making it feel like it's coming from YOU.
I know oppression doesn't always look the same.  The battles and tactics are different because our enemy is smart enough to point his weapons at our weaknesses.  But there are some key elements the enemy employs that I think usually help us to recognize oppression, and there are a few weapons we have that help us survive the onslaught. 
One of the things that Satan loves to do is move at me when God is taking me through a period of refinement or purification.  It's usually a point at which God is showing me areas in my life that are not what they should be.  My heart is at a vulnerable place before God, and I am very open to God showing me the impurities in my heart, and asking Him to direct me.  It's a very important time, and one Satan doesn't want me to see clearly in. 
So he loves to create confusion.  He'll kick up a dust storm around us or cause the bats to swarm.  There are a few things that this accomplishes for him.  First, we lose a sense of direction.  If the source of light is the way we find North, than if he can cut off our visibility, we don't know how to find our bearings.  If we truly can't figure out which way truth is, it's more likely we will follow the direction he wants us to take. Usually that direction is not left or right, it is lost.  Satan makes us feel like everything we've ever believed about our decisions and God's direction is a lie.  He undermines us by pouring doubt into our minds.
The second thing this does is it makes us feel isolated and separated.  If we can't find our way through the dust or the bats, we come to the place where we can't feel God's presence and we can begin to think that we are so far gone no one can help us.  Because we feel isolated and we don't have our bearings, we feel a loss of control and it makes us feel afraid.  Fear can lead to panic.  It is very scary to be under a high level of oppression.   It's a place you want to get out of as quickly as you can.  We ask questions like, what did I do to get to this place?  How have I sinned? 
And you would think that those would be the right questions to ask during that time. But we need to be careful to identify who is answering our questions. 
When we are asking is precisely when we are most vulnerable for the accuser to move in.  What he bombards us with may sound like conviction or feel like clarity because it is another way of looking at things, but it is always a lie, a twist, a perversion of the truth.  And his tactics are doubt, guilt/shame, and fear.  He weakens us with those until he knows he can bring in the big guns of hopelessness and failure.
I used to think that that the best way to deal with those attacks was to fight back with truth about myself. So I would have these battles where I would deal with the attacks by rationalizing (giving reasons), or explaining (why I did or did not), or justifying (why it was right or wrong), or defending myself--my heart, my motives, my actions.  But if Satan can get us caught in that web he'll wrap us up before we know it.  Because the truth is the accuser is well aware of our imperfections.  And he's very good at pointing them out.  So in trying to save ourselves we play right into his hands (or web) and eventually he eats us for lunch. 
Instead, I've learned that I need to tell myself the truth about God.  Especially the truths Satan is trying to undermine in that moment: 
First, NOTHING can separate me from the love of God.  (Say it as many times as you need to until your spirit knows it is true.)
Second, a few years ago I read in The Book of the Poor in Spirit this truth that has helped me countless times.  The only place that we are truly safe from Satan is the ground floor of humility.  Satan always comes at us through our pride.  So when we recognize that we are truly nothing but for grace, we are standing on nothing but grace, our accuser has no ground left to attack us on. 
Third, when the attacks come in full force, sometimes there is nothing we can do but run for shelter.  We need sanctuary.  Satan is really good at making us feel like if we don't figure it all out immediately we are going to lose it.  Instead, I've learned to say, "I am under attack right now and I can't trust that I am seeing clearly.  Lord I know that your love is long suffering, that You are patient with me.  I don't have to figure this all out tonight.  Protect me until the onslaught passes."  And usually the worst of the battle seems to come for me at the end of the day, when I'm tired.  I've learned that if I can hold on 'til dawn, I can see more clearly. 
So what does that look like?
This is what it looked like for me yesterday:  I had been seeking the Lord for clarity and affirmation, and so I asked Jean to help me with Sarah for the afternoon.  I spent three hours before the Lord bearing my soul to Him.  I knew that I had been heard, but I didn't have a response.  In the quiet, fear began to creep in.  Condemnation.  Then doubt.  I began to look at all the decisions I had made in the past few weeks and every possible direction I could have taken felt just as wrong as any other.  Every path a wrong turn.  Confusion. It must all be because of the impurity of my heart. Guilt.  I need to confess.  But I'm not sure what to confess.  I'm trying to find the threads of truth so I can reorient my world in the right direction but I don't know what is true.  I can't hear God. Voices coming at me telling me I should have done this and that.  But none of it fits.  It feels like it must be all up to me to get back to God's presence.  But I don't know where to go. Separation.  Oh, I'm really lost now.  And look at all the people I'm taking with me to hell.  It's all my fault.  Failure.  And because I can't possibly figure out which way is truth, and which way is God, it's hopeless.
Do you see the progression? 
The thing is that I've been through this attack enough times to know that even though it seems to be coming from me, I know that it is coming upon me. I can choose to receive the lies or not.  But how do I know the difference between conviction (from God) and oppression (from Satan)?
Conviction doesn't make us feel lost.  Conviction, though often painful, leads us toward truth and light--toward feeling found.  It brings life and hope in the midst of painful recognition.  It's a subtle difference, but an important one. 
Give yourself time and space to sort through the difference.  But Satan isn't always polite as far as timing is concerned.  He interrupts us in our busyness.  So in the midst of getting the girls dinner and dressed for bed and teeth brushed etc. I couldn't ignore the battle.
Though I am aware of all the lies swarming my spirit, I speak truth--to myself and to the spirits of darkness. I said to myself repeatedly, "Nothing can separate me from the love of Christ"--reminding myself of the truth of this scripture.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: "For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered." No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:35-39 (NIV)
After the girls went to sleep, I walked myself through a few things that I do even if they don't seem to help at first.
I went to my place of prayer. 
I lit a candle.  (I do this as a visual representation of the Spirit of God.  This way I remind myself that He is present even if I can't sense Him.) 
Then I had communion.  Apple Cider and a cracker.  It's the closest thing I had.  I remind myself and Satan that I am saved by the sacrifice of Christ.  I whispered over and over out loud, "Jesus is my Savior, Jesus is my Savior." (I needed to be rescued.)

Sometimes this will break the oppression.  But it didn't.  So I listen for what is next.  Many times the Lord will direct us if we listen. If the idea that comes to us brings life and is in line with Scripture I go with it.  My sense was that this battle was bigger than just me. With the realization I needed help I prayed for the angels to come. Warrior angels to fight, so I prayed for Michael's angels. I needed clarity from God, direction, God's truth to speak louder than the lies so I prayed for Gabriel's angels. Messenger angels. I also sensed the Lord asking me to call my friends to prayer.  I named the people He brought to my mind and asked Him to guide them into prayer for me.  I didn't know if He would or if they would answer the call, but I knew it was a good prayer to pray.  

I was praying in front of The Butterfly Lady, and earlier I had read about cities of refuge, places God commanded the people to build for situations where people needed protection, like when they murdered someone by accident.  There they could find sanctuary from their accusers.  I recalled Psalm 27 and felt like I needed sanctuary.  There are times when I feel like I am supposed to fight the battle head on.  There are other times when I realize it is too big for me and I must seek protection and wait until help comes.  I asked for sanctuary.  It's the place where our spirit connects with God's Spirit directly and nothing else can touch it--Spirit unto spirit communion.

I began to feel drowsy and knew that sleep was coming.  But I know it is possible for Satan to oppress through dreams and so I wasn't sure if I should try to stay awake or not.  I sensed I should go upstairs to bed.  Matt had fallen asleep putting Sarah to bed, so I woke him enough to get him to our room.  I laid down next to him and waited.  I sort of felt like it was open season on my head.  I was astonished with all that was coming at my mind, and glad that I was distanced enough  from it not to receive it all, but I remember feeling like I had no skull over the top of my mind and was completely open to attack.  I laughingly thought, "I need a helmet!"  

And then it hit me, OH...I need a covering.  So with that thought came a million others which I will not take time to share, but I really had to listen then for what was next.  I asked if I should wake Matt and ask him to put his hands on my head and pray over me.  I was hesitant because I knew he was exhausted and had to leave for Pittsburgh at 4:30AM.  But I wasn't unwilling if the Lord directed.  Then the Lord brought to my mind a word He had spoken to me very clearly the March I went to Atlantic city.  He said, "I will be your covering." (Read soul stopping pause here.)

So I asked the Lord to cover my head and I literally felt like a blanket was put on top of my head and immediately all the voices were quiet.  It was like I had spiritual and mental earplugs.  

Then I closed my eyes and slept.

I woke at 3:00AM and realized the onslaught had passed.  I asked if I was supposed to get up and pray and start working on that clarity from before, but I didn't sense God was in a hurry.  

So I gave myself up back to sleep.  I woke with the sun shining through my window.  I knew I had made it through the night.  The wounds from the battle are still a little sore, but my mind is no longer under a barrage of accusations and I no longer feel the lies pressing in.  And I'm OK.

...It's time to play with Sarah.   

Back to School

Em and Grace went back to school this morning. Sarah is singing in the tub, and every once in a while she randomly calls out Drew's name, as if he might answer.  It's a little weird, but endearing. (She's going to see him again today, they were apart all summer.)
And I am, well...home.
And back to school.
I've been all tied up in knots over Samuel ever since I started teaching it to Em.  Does this happen to you?  I mean, I expect myself to get that way over Grey's Anatomy, which carries almost as much drama as Samuel.  But why be so emotionally entwined in the Scriptures?  I feel Penninah's meanness and Hannah's grief and Elkanah's tenderness.  I sense the deep reverence that draws Samuel to rest near the Ark and the horrible lack of it in the desecration of Eli's sons.  So I've started to study it more in depth. Which means I've started to write about it.  I'm not going to structure it all--I don't like structure--but I do like rhythms. I can live with rhythms far better than rigidness.
So I decided there are a few ways I want to study Samuel.  I'm going to work my way through a commentary on it.  You know--traditional exegesis.  I find that there is much to be learned from knowing the facts.  But what I'm really excited about is working my way through a literary analysis of it.  There is so much richness in the way the text of Samuel was written.  So much in it's literary composition.  I toyed with the idea of trying to teach myself Hebrew, but decided that wasn't the right path.  I'd much rather read the translation of someone who really gets the language. It's about hearing in the Hebrew text all the author wanted to speak.  The texts were originally written to be heard, out loud.  I think they were supposed to be felt.   
For example, we "hear" so much more when we "listen" to some of the storytelling techniques the author uses.   I'm working on getting a good literary translation, but even from reading the English version you get an idea.  I Sam. 3 starts by saying, "The word of the Lord was rare in those days,"  "visions were not widespread", and then in the next verse the author points to Eli, "whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see,"  but "the lamp of God had not yet gone out where Samuel was lying down in the temple." And then in the middle of the night God SPEAKS to Samuel. Do you see the light going out on the house of Eli and the voice awakening Samuel?   Do you see the picture the author is painting for us through contrast and comparison? The author of Samuel uses word repetition and other clues to help us understand the meaning of his stories. 
So you see I want to feel the text, understand the circumstances (the facts) as best as I can, and listen and look at the word pictures the author is painting and see how the Lord will speak to me and through me as I write.
 And I will see what God teaches me through the text and how I see my own story through hearing the story of Saul and David and Samuel.
That's what I'm thinking today...but who knows what tomorrow may bring?
I just know I need to work through the story.  The truth of it, the emotions it draws to the surface, the beauty and the difficulty, the tragedy and the triumphs.  I would love to work through it together with you, in bits and pieces.  Please join me in the journey.

I'm lying here on the floor, curled up with the dog, in golden sanctuary. 
I don't want the peace I woke with to leave me.
To fall asleep with a cry on my heart and wake with peace is not answer, but presence.
But whose presence?
And is it OK?
Does this come as an answer to prayer? 
Whose prayer?
Did it change my course?
Am I weak, and emotional, and unsteady?
Or is love stronger somehow, than my death?

I don't want my eyes to grow dim like Eli's. 
I don't want to desecrate this sanctuary like his sons.
I don't want the enmity of Elkanah's polygamous choice.
I don't want a rivalry.
I don't want to spurn love.
I don't want to cave to my circumstances.
I don't want to take my grief to any but the Lord.
I don't want the priest to think I'm a crazy drunk.
I don't want to forget my covenant with the Lord.
I don't want to give up on my son.
I don't want to bring down the priests you've appointed.
I don't want to be unresponsive to your midnight call.
I don't want to have a narrow vision.
I don't want any of my words to fall to the ground.

Can you hear all the cries?

Sometimes I don't know what I am supposed to want. 
I just know what I do want.
And I know that I want to want what You want me to want, My God and Savior.
And I'm scared of choice.
Really scared of choice.

Sarah and Drew this afternoon.

Layers

30th Street Station Statue
Photo by Bgrace

What is this feeling?

I can't find it's name.

A heart frozen numb, lying limp, laying lame.

The hollow place that waits just past the greatest pain.

Was Christ by his own power raised from the dead?

Or was it the Father who in hell found his bed,

Picked him up from his bloody pool

Gave light, love, life, and power to rule.

How does one know mercy,

Forgiveness in awesome breadth,

If he can't understand the depths of his own darkness.

And how can one heal the wound of another

Until her enemy becomes her brother. 

My God who keeps His mercy long

Make mine stretch beyond this wrong.

Open wide the gates, let the enemy in

Somehow, someway, turn him to friend.

I can't raise this heart on my own,

Breathe life into these drying bones.

I can't raise this heart on my own

Send me a Savior to carry me home.

By Bgrace

Written in bits and pieces

over the last few years.

Favorite Things #5

Watching Sarah with cows...

Sarah and Cow 2010
Photo by Bgrace

A Few Lines on Beauty...

Study of a Girl's Head

By Thomas Eakins

Yesterday, Matt took the day off so he could join me on one of my field trips.  I wanted to see the Renoir exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.  We decided to make a day of it and took the train in.  The Elizabethtown train station is getting a million dollar+ remodel.  It looks like they are keeping some of the old stone as well as introducing some long overdue changes.  A happy marriage of the old and new.  I like that.
Once in Philly we sat in the train station and had coffee and danish.  I love 30th Street Station.  It's a beautiful building with so much character and texture and light and warmth.  Matt humored me and let me take a few pictures.  We walked the 20 minutes to the museum in the warm morning sunshine.
We had a little time to walk the museum before we entered the Renoir exhibit.  I was so excited to see Mary.  I haven't visited her in so long.  She was even more mesmerizing than I remembered.  I was glad that I was still so drawn to her.
Matt and I went in to the Late Renoir exhibit and I kept waiting to be moved.  To be drawn in.  To be fascinated by his work.  For it to speak to me.  It was all very lovely.  And yet, I found myself having to agree with Matt's words after we left the exhibit.  "That was actually disappointing.  I don't think I'm a big Renoir fan."  It was true for me too.  And I was trying to pinpoint why.  Matt did say that he liked the paintings where Renoir had painted his children.  But it seemed more like the idea Matt was drawn to than even the actual paintings.
As we walked the museum, I realized that I had grown since my last visit to an Art Museum.  I found that I knew which paintings I really liked.  I knew which ones I would want on my walls.  And I even knew that I was drawn by certain artists for particular reasons.  To my surprise I really like Eakins.  I found myself drawn to his paintings all through the museum without knowing at first that they were his.  There was a special exhibit for The Gross Clinic because it has been recently restored.  I wouldn't normally be drawn to that type of scene, but I found myself so drawn to the personalities of his subjects.  He painted their character.  His subjects were rich with identity.  He knew who they were.  They seemed to know themselves.  I also really loved his wife's painting of him. She knew his lines.
There were a few others that I found myself drawn to.  Of the sacred paintings I loved a few that depicted Jesus, the disciples, and Mary in ways that felt poignant. I started to ask myself what was it that awakened that sense of magnetism in me, that made me want to take a picture, that made me want to linger.  And as I walked through the museum (which is a work of art in itself), I found that I was drawn to elements in the museum almost as much as the paintings in it. 
At about 5 PM Matt and I sat at a table above the great stair room.  A live concert was playing below us--a tribute to Nat King Cole--and we ordered something to drink.  I began to write out a list of things that moved me, drew me in, made me feel something.  Things like arches, high ceilings, domes, and pillars.  Stairs--endless repetition with shading and clean lines.  Color and Light.  Whimsy, the unexpected, things that played tricks on your eyes.  Sacred spaces, fireplaces.  Beautiful gowns.  Curtains, sheers, and beautiful windows. People who speak deeply without using words.
And this simple whisper of truth awakened in me.
 
There is power in beauty. 

In the space of that moment, I felt it was good. 
There is a question that's been quietly rising in my thoughts for some time now that sounds a little bit like this...
Can beauty heal?
 

His Lines

Photo by Bgrace

Scenic Route

From Roaring Brook to Chimney Pond
Photo by Bgrace

 A couple nights ago I was getting ready to curl up with my pile of books in bed and Matt comes in and with a half smirk says, "So you're really going to read all of those books?" 

"Not going to," I said, "I am reading them." 

"These two," I pointed to the books I was referring to, "I read sections that are a couple pages long every day.  The A. Carmichael book I read about a Chapter a day because I need a little dose of A.C. to keep things in perspective." 

"These two are Bibles," I continued, "and the Siblings book I read a little bit out of every couple of days." 

"Why are you reading the Appalachian Trail Guide to Maine?" he asked.  

"Well," (I sighed because I wasn't sure if he would think it was weird), "I think there are a lot of correlations between the spiritual journey and hiking on the A.T. So as I read it I see a lot of connections."  

Matt came over to me, wrapped his arms around me and tucked my head under his chin.  "I think you're really smart," he said.  

Just led, I thought happily.

That incident came back to me this morning as I was reading the A.T. guide to Maine.  I have been wrestling with God about some things over the past few days.  I have felt a bit conflicted at the direction He's taking me in right now.  It seems to be going away from where I've been headed and I feel a bit perplexed, somewhat disturbed, and confused about what I am sensing from Him.  So I keep checking in, "Is this just me?  Am I being drawn away from my destination and just thinking it's you God?  I want to be strong, I don't want to give up, I need to see this through...but the things you are showing me don't seem to be a direct route.  What if I get sidetracked?  What if I get so caught up in things I forget where I'm headed?" 

I remembered a few years back when Matt accepted a job offer in Seattle.  I had been looking for clarity about my journey through this decision.  I asked the Lord to give me an answer by either taking me away or keeping me here.  Everything I thought I needed was there.  A phenomenal seminary program--I could get an M. Div. with an emphasis in spiritual formation, Ted and Nancy nearby, a good job for Matt...a new life.  I desperately wanted a new life but I didn't want to go out of weakness. I only wanted to go if I was led.  So Matt accepted the offer, and I prayed to God about it all, and the Lord clearly spoke to me and said, "You can go, but you will miss the blessing."  

Funny, I believed that God had spoken, but I wasn't sure that I believed Him.  (I wrote more about that in a piece called Lit From Within.) I decided to follow anyway.  Matt had asked me what I thought we should do--if we should go or not, and I told him that because I was too confused about what was God and what wasn't, that he needed to make the decision, and I would go along with it no matter what.  And once I told the Lord I would rather have the blessing and that I would rather go the route that would bring Him the most glory, I received a knowing from Him that we were not going to go.  But I knew that God would have to be the One who intervened to keep us here.  I told Jean, and she then shared with me that God had given her the same knowing, even though she had been willing to release me to the Lord's will.  I told my Pastor who I had been meeting with at the time as well.  But I made every effort to put my house in order so that we were ready to go.  I boxed up almost everything.  We painted the whole house and put new flooring in.  We had a yard sale and sold much of our furniture because it would be cheaper to buy new stuff than move it across the country.  I can't really explain it other than it was like Abraham going through all the motions of putting Isaac on the altar even though he believed God would provide the sacrifice in the stead of his son.  The day before we were to put our house on the market Matt got a phone call from a company in the area he had not sent a resume to, not interviewed with, and not sought a job with--it was an even better job offer than Seattle.  A man who had mentored him at another company asked him to come and work with him.  

After everything had panned out, I told Matt that the Lord had told me we wouldn't be going. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said with a fair amount of exasperation. 

"Because you needed to know it was God, and not me," I replied.  (For that matter, so did I.)  

This morning, as I was reading the A.T. guide to Maine, I learned that there are some hiking points that can be reached by access roads if you wanted to drive there instead of hiking. I was tempted by the thought, Why didn't we drive there? for a few seconds.  Then I remembered another incident of a few years back.
The light I was wrestling for finally broke through.
I could drive there, but I would miss the blessings along the trail.
This truth has been coming at me so often the past couple of weeks.  If I had given up on my job when they cut my salary, I would have missed an enormous blessing--THE WHOLE POINT OF MY BEING THERE!  I would not have seen God's words about my ministry bear fruit.
What I'm trying to say is this: there are enormous blessings in store for us when we stay the course, when we stay on the path God puts us on.  Often God does not take us on the most direct route.  He doesn't drive us there on the easy access roads. Why?  Because we'd miss the blessings along the way.  And sometimes He takes us on paths where there are no easy access routes.  The blessings along those trailsl are ones you don't find yourself taking for granted.  Nor are the blessings at the end of those trails.
This morning God was saying to me--I'm not changing your destination, but I'm taking you along the scenic path.  Enjoy the journey.  

Mirror Image at Chimney Pond
Photo by Bgrace

It reminded me of the path to chimney pond--there aren't any access roads there.  It's on the way to Cathedral Trail, the path we took to the top of Mount K.  The view of the mountain from the campground is aptly named.  It inspires a holy awe.  Absolutely worth the hike.

Chimney Pond Campground with Cathedral in the background.

Photo by Bgrace

I'll close with an few excerpts from the forewords to Mimosa, Who Was Charmed (A.Carmichael).

First Edition, 1924

It spoke in a clear, glad voice, and it said: "Fear not at all.  Where your hands cannot reach and your love cannot help, His hands reach and His love can help.  So why are you afraid?"

And it said that miles of space and solid walls and locked doors are nothing to Love.  Nothing at all.

And it said--and we set it down with great hope that it may cheer some other, for it said it very earnestly: "The seed is not your poor little word.  The seed is the word of God."

Fifth Edition, 1930

But here in this strip of room..."Take off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground." And a new insight, like the sudden flash that sometimes lights the evening sky in these tropical lands and shows kingdoms beyond the clouds, was granted in that moment.  I knew, not by faith now, but as it were by sight, that our Lord Jesus Christ can do anything, keep anyone, shine anywhere, succour in spite of all the forces of the enemy, comfort in any circumstances.  Verily, circumstances are nothing to Him.  He is King of them all.  The material is powerless to cramp or to subdue.  It is naught.  The Spiritual conquers every time. 

Sixth Edition, 1935

For her (Star) too, we ask the protection of the Shield, for the powers of darkness are not figments of missionary imagination.  They are mighty, they are present.  But mightier, far and very present is the Shield of our God.