Devotions & reflections

Instrumental Beauty

I was able to experience something wonderful a few weeks ago. On Friday night my husband told me to get all dressed up and he whisked me away to a surprise destination. He was celebrating me, for I had finally reached the 50 year mark in my life. We arrived at our secret place, and as I entered the room that held this wonderful gift, I found myself standing in an auditorium filled with the sounds of instruments tuning and voices chattering.

The lights dimmed and the room was immediately silenced. One violinist stood and glided his bow across the strings as the orchestra tuned in to his lead. Applause erupted as the guest pianist floated across the stage; more applause as the conductor stepped upon the box. Silence fell as she lifted her baton and the Virginia Symphony Orchestra prepared to delight their audience with Beethoven and Mahler. I was mesmerized for two hours, watching each person become one with their instrument, one with their fellow players, following the music set before them, following the conductor as she led the way. It filled my heart with great joy.

A thought comes to my mind — this picture of beauty, satisfaction, perfection… isn't this a small dose of what the Body of Christ should look like? The Bible says that we are one body with many different parts (1 Cor. 12:12). When we each make a careful exploration of who we are and the work we have been given, and sink ourselves into it — without comparing ourselves with others — then as we gather together for one purpose, we can become one with the instrument of our lives, one with our brothers and sisters, following Christ as our Conductor leading the way.

How beautiful the Body of Christ would be to the world. Maybe then the world would sit mesmerized by the beauty of many different parts moving as one, flowing together in unity. I have a lot to learn. It takes hard work and lots of practice to know your instrument — to know just where to place your fingers so that what is played is beautiful to those who hear.

Out With the Old, In With the New

So much is changing in my life, and I'm learning to embrace the “new” as the “old” slips away. Not that the old was bad — not at all. But God is taking me in a different direction, and right in the midst of it all He is teaching me His ways.

My husband and I were talking about this the other day, and he mentioned how it's in the unknown — the uncomfortable places of our lives — that God develops His character within us, maturing us. If we allow Him to strip away our agendas and trust Him, listening for His voice in all we do, then we begin to change from the inside out.

I'm learning to pay attention to that still small voice that has been trying to push past my reasoning, my agenda. God is a mystery, and sometimes His ways don't make sense to my small way of thinking. I tend to forget how big God is and try to fit Him into this small box of mine. But why would I serve a God I could comprehend? I'm glad I serve a God that is bigger than my box of reasoning.

God is expanding my territory. It's uncomfortable, it stretches me, it's scary, it's exciting — and I'm growing, I'm learning, I'm trusting, and I'm finding my voice. Out with the old and in with the new. All my hope is in the Lord anyhow. Why not just step out?

F.R.O.G.

It was in the late summer of last year, driving through the Tree Street area with my mom, that I saw it. A frog had jumped up on the windshield of my vehicle — while it was moving! — and held on for several minutes as I kept driving. It was the strangest thing; I'd never seen anything like it.

I shared this with a friend and she said, “Jill, that is cool. F.R.O.G. — Forever Rely On God.” I thought about what she said and realized how significant it was, because I was praying about a major decision in my life that would be a big change for me. And that was all I needed to know.

It's been several months since then, and I did make that change. And although it has been difficult at times, I think about that little frog on my windshield reminding me to Forever Rely On God.

Beauty Secret

Don't you just love this time of year? There's a large bush around the corner from my house that blossomed beautifully with vivid pink blooms during the warm days of early spring. I looked forward to seeing it every time I walked my little Yorkie, Noah, that way — I would stop and stare as if drinking in its beauty.

Then one morning a blast of cold air hit my face. Frost. My heart sank as I rounded the corner and saw that the pretty pink flowers had turned an uncomely brown. Each time I inspected the bush hoping for new blooms, the brown remained, and I would look away and keep walking.

I was thinking how our journey with the Lord can be that way. We can be going about the Father's business with peace in our hearts — then something happens that knocks our feet out from under us. Peace slips away, replaced by fear; smiles change to wrinkles of worry. Our pretty pink blossoms turn brown. We try everything in our own power to fix it, and the brown remains.

And then, when we've exhausted our energy and grown weary from trying, we turn to the One who is all-powerful. With no condemnation whatsoever — because He is patient and kind and His love never runs out — He gathers us in His arms and rejoices over us with singing. His strength moves in on our weakness, and peace invades our fearful hearts.

It began with a whisper — “Trust in Me” — and now it is etched in my mind and heart. That's what I have to do to be at peace at all times. I want to be like that tree bearing fruit even when things hurt or don't go my way. Trust God, and remain fruitful and full of beauty.

The Way Home

I was at the bookstore the other day and picked up a book in which one question referred to there being only one way to heaven. The story goes that there is only one road to this man's house — try another route and you will get lost and never reach your destination. So it is with God guiding us home.

The one way to God's home is through Jesus Christ, the Son of God. He left His place in heaven, lived a life of trust and obedience to His heavenly Father, and exemplified peace, strength, unconditional love, forgiveness, grace, and joy in the midst of suffering. Then He was betrayed, accused, and sentenced to die the death of a thief — an innocent man. I'm so grateful the story doesn't end there. He was raised up after three days! He is living. He is active in my life. He is my way home.

I'm an alien in a foreign land; this is not my home. But while I live here, just as Christ lived a life of peace and strength, so can I. It's not easy. The only way I can have peace and assurance is by trusting Him from the bottom of my heart and quitting trying to figure things out on my own. I am weak, but He is stronger — and when I accept my weakness and allow Him to be strong in me, I am one step closer to home.

The Gift of Waiting

God told me to wait… again. And so I wait. I wait for healing. I wait for restoration. I wait for redemption. I wait for chains to fall away. I wait for broken hearts to be mended. I wait for revelation to come. I wait for doors to open. I wait… I wait… I wait.

Waiting is a gift — really. It's a process for me, one that grows shorter with each lesson learned. As I work through the swelling of emotions in each phase, I finally grow weary of being tossed around in that dark ocean, and I remember that the only one I can change or control is myself. The only source of peace I have is the assurance of serving a God who is bigger and stronger, who loves me like crazy, and who will cause all things to work together for my good and His glory (Romans 8:28).

He knows every heart involved in each situation — and He loves every heart. So I lean on Him and tell Him my stories of woe, and He listens and whispers softly, “I've got this, sweet child of Mine.”

And I wait, with assurance that God is taking care of it. I wait as His peace settles over me and calms my spirit. Because in the waiting, I learn to trust Him. And I am changed — for my good and for His glory.

Giants

At the end of every year, don't we all tend to look back and take inventory of our lives? I looked back over this past year and realized the many giants I faced, and I breathe a prayer of thanks to my heavenly Father for not giving up on me.

God is so patient. I can be so stubborn — wanting to do things my way, wanting to see things go the way I think they should. But God reminds me that His thoughts are bigger than my thoughts and His ways bigger than my ways. I think I know what is best, but I don't. Only God sees all of the truth — the pain, the disappointment, the struggles in every heart involved.

So the giants I've faced this year have been a blessing in disguise. When I finally give up the fight, come face to face with what's within me, and lay down my ways to God's sovereignty, I find peace. With each situation that doesn't go my way, I fall to my knees — sometimes sooner than other times — and that's when my grip loosens and the Father rushes in with the calm of His peace, the anchor of His hope, and the strength of His grace.

Giants are just that — giants. Bigger than me in every way. But I smile, because I have Someone on my side who fights the giants for me, who is way bigger than any giant. The earth is His footstool (Isaiah 66:1). Think about it — that's a big God. Bigger than any giant I will ever face.

The Brown Horse

I took my dog for a walk today, over to where the horses lounge in the field close to where I live. As I got closer, the brown horse noticed me, lifted his head, and ran over to the fence to greet me. He had never done that before. I had to laugh — it took me by surprise. But then I remembered: the last time I walked through, I told the brown horse I would bring him a treat. Perhaps an apple?

It seemed as if he had been waiting, waiting, waiting on me — and when he saw me he got so excited! Only to be disappointed, because sadly I had nothing to give him. So I went back to the house, found two apples, quartered them, and walked back out to the field. I held out my hand with the sweet treat resting in my palm, and his soft lips gently took it. I was delighted by his gentleness, and by how he guided me to feed him from the bottom of the fence — there was an electric wire stretched along the top. Well, that makes more sense!

As I walked back to the house I thought to myself, “I've started something now.” I really know nothing about horses — except that they do like apples. I guess I'll have to keep a treat in my pocket every time I walk that way from now on, because I can just bet the brown horse will expect me to deliver.