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A Crown in His Hand

There has been a lot of buzz lately about a certain monarch reigning for 70 years.

So when I read Isaiah 62:3, it got my wheels turning.

You will also be a crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord

And a royal diadem in the hand of your God.

Isaiah 62:3

This metaphor is about Israel.

You know, Israel.

The unfaithful, ungrateful, wicked one.

Sounds a lot like me.

But neither of us stays that way.

He makes beauty from devastation.

He turns us into gems:

Priceless, treasured, awe-inspiring.

But what really caught my eye is where this crown is.

You see, right now, Queen Elizabeth’s crown jewels are kept in the Tower of London.

They haven’t been stolen since 1671.

Pretty good record.

But not perfect.

And who knows when someone will steal them again, or a natural disaster destroys them?

They will eventually burn up.

In contrast, we are kept eternally safe.

Not under glass and guard,

But in His hand.

“My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”

John 10:29-30

Praise God not only for gloriously saving us, but for keeping us.

A crown in His All-mighty hand.

I Cried with My Babies

He turned purple in an instant.

A confused whimper roared into a full on scream.

He shook and tried to curl up into a ball.

I held his little arms and told him it would be okay, as tears rolled down my cheeks and soaked my mask.

I knew I couldn’t take away his pain.

Even worse, I let it happen to him.

Finally, I could pick him up as they disposed of their needles.

I scooped him in my arms and held him close.

I whispered my apologies and reassurances as his sobs slowly subsided.

I asked how many parents cried as hard as the child and the nurse nodded,

“I cried with my babies.”

I didn’t expect such a visceral reaction.

Just a few days before, my aunt asked me if I felt distressed when my baby cried.

“No, not really, because I know I can usually comfort him and meet his needs.”

Well, now I knew distress.

I could comfort him afterwards, but that didn’t take away the pain he felt.

I would’ve taken the shots for him, but it doesn’t work that way.

And it wasn’t that way at Calvary.

The pain and sorrow of the world was on His shoulders.

He bore in His body the weight of sin.

Now I understand, just a little bit more, of the Father’s heart.

He watched as His Beloved Son suffered.

But He could not comfort Him.

While I could hold my son close and soothe him,

God the Father had to turn away from His Son’s distress.

The ground trembled and shook and tore apart.

I think that was a reflection of His heart.

This agony was endured by the Son and the Father,

And it was done for me.

Such love and sacrifice humbles and rejoices my heart.

Christ’s death on the cross means life for me.

Because of His distress, I will be comforted forever.

Hallelujah, what a Savior.

The Time of Singing

Do you ever need some convincing?
Sometimes, staying in bed seems like the best option.
Your head is in a fog, your eyelids are heavy curtains.
Nothing is appealing.
It’s been a lifeless, eternal winter.
The outside world had better just stay away.

But what if someone pushes through your dark cloud?
He exudes energy and life.
His eyes sparkle.
He is so excited to see you.
He’s been running to meet you.

He looks at you with such love.
He doesn’t scold you for staying in bed.
He’s not exasperated that you’re so weak.
He doesn’t guilt you into getting up.

Instead, He woos you.
His voice is soft with tenderness.

“Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
and come away,
for behold, the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
is heard in our land.
The fig tree ripens its figs,
and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
and come away.”

Suddenly you know, that because of Him,
It’s worth it.

You take His hand,
And He draws you out of despair,
into the warmth of a spring day.

This is what Jesus has done for me.
He has taken me out of darkness and into His light.
Winter is past!
The time of singing has come.
Because of His great salvation, I am His.
He wants to rejoice with me.
His desire is for me to know, understand, and enter fully into His love.
Right now I can enjoy this sweet relationship with Him.

Each morning He stirs my heart to come away with Him.
Walk in the garden with me.
Let’s enjoy time together.
To my shame, I often roll over and throw the covers over my head.
I’m wrapped up in my own concerns,
Too self-focused to share them with Him.
Life starts to get dismal.

But when I hear the voice of my Beloved,
I remember His excitement and desire for me.
His eyes brim with love.
Taking His outstretched hand,
I open His Word.
He’s singing to me.

Flipped Opportunity

That’s all it takes, sometimes.

Turn your perspective on its head.

I caught myself twice this week starting to say,

“I hope X happens, so then we don’t have to worry about Y happening.”

I was trusting in this X factor, so I wouldn’t have to concern myself with the Y outcome.

As soon as I said it, I knew I was wrong.

I don’t have to worry about Y happening,

even if X DOES happen.

I don’t have to worry.

at.

all.

Worry is a choice.

When something comes up that could cause me to worry,

I need to flip my perspective.

This situation is not an opportunity to worry.

It’s an opportunity to trust.

An ancient king illustrated this so well.

A multitude was coming against him.

He was way outnumbered.

But Jehoshaphat sought the Lord.

He admitted:

“We don’t know what to do, but our eyes are on You.”

There are circumstances in our lives that are troubling,

But we don’t have to succumb to the worry that gnaws on us.

We can fix our eyes on the Lord,

And remind ourselves of His power, compassion, and love.

Jehoshaphat prayed to God, acknowledging who He is:

Are You not God in the heavens? And are You not ruler over all the kingdoms of the nations? Power and might are in Your hand so that no one can stand against You.

2 Chronicles 20:6

Let’s turn worry on its head,

And take an opportunity to speak truth about God

to ourselves,

and others.

In His Arms

We shouldn’t have been playing hide and seek.

It was my grandpa’s funeral, after all.

But we were kids, and it was raining outside.

As I ran up the red carpeted steps to the choir loft,

a picture stopped me in my tracks.

It was a print of a long-haired man in a robe and sandals.

He had a child balanced on his knee.

His arm was stretched out to other children gathered near him.

Huh. That must be Jesus.

I didn’t think too much more as I heard my cousin shouting:

Ready or Not! Here I come!

But the image came back in my mind again, some 20 years later.

I read in Mark – two chapters in a row – where Jesus interacts with children.

In both instances, He takes them in His arms.

The picture from the church came back to me.

The child perched on His knee.

I realize what the artist was trying to convey:

A tender closeness between the Savior and the children.

But as I read how He took them in His arms,

The picture seemed inadequate.

The child shouldn’t be balancing on His knee.

He should be wrapped in the Savior’s embrace.

No fear of falling.

No fear of being displaced by someone else.

Wrapped tightly and securely by the arms of Love.

Even though I’ve outgrown games of hide-and-seek at funerals,

I haven’t outgrown that need to be held.

I never will outgrow it.

The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.

Deuteronomy 33:27

When the world is so volatile and spinning out of control,

I know that the unchanging, eternal God is my refuge,

And He’s holding me in His arms.

I won’t fall.

I won’t be replaced.

I am securely held by my Loving Savior.

Are you hanging out on His knee – keeping yourself at arms length?

Or have you burrowed close to His chest, like a child seeking comfort?

Don’t squirm away and try to face the cold world on your own.

Fall into His embrace.

He will hold you, and you will be safe in Him.

When Jesus Sighed

Have you done it yet this week?

Heaved your shoulders and let out an exaggerated sigh?

Your cheeks inflate as the air rushes through,

Or your head rolls back and your eyes follow.

I’m guilty of it.

Usually I give one of those sighs to communicate to someone (or even to myself), that something is not right.

I’m upset. I’m tired. I’m complaining. I’m irritated.

Our body language can do a great job of communicating for us.

But what about when Jesus sighed?

Was His sigh exaggerated like mine can be?

What was He communicating?

I noticed recently in reading Mark that Jesus sighed twice in just 2 chapters.

The first is when a deaf man with a speech impediment was brought to him.

He could not speak to ask Jesus to be healed, so his friends begged on his behalf.

Jesus took the man aside, made signs to him, and then looked to heaven and

Sighed.

It was a deep sigh – the word is repeated twice.

He said, “Be opened.”

The man’s tongue was loosed and his ears could hear.

No longer blocked, no longer bound.

The next time Jesus sighed is a chapter later when the Pharisees came to him.

They were arguing with him, testing him, demanding a sign.

They wanted Him to prove to them He was from heaven.

This time Jesus gave an emphatically deep sigh.

The word is repeated and it has emphasis.

But Jesus sighed in His spirit – that means the sigh was not apparent to the Pharisees.

They could not hear His sigh.

He would not give a sign to them.

Why did Jesus perform a miracle the first time, and not the second?

Why did He sigh?

The deaf and mute man came to Jesus with a request.

The Pharisees came to argue.

The deaf and mute man wanted to be healed.

The Pharisees wanted to test Jesus.

The first man had faith.

The Pharisees had jealousy.

In reality, the deaf man and the Pharisees shared the same problem.

Ears that could not hear.

In one case, it was physical.

The man could not hear.

In the other, it was spiritual.

The Pharisees would not hear.

So when Jesus sighed the first time, perhaps He was sighing at the effects of sin in the world – the suffering that this man had endured.

But when Jesus sighed the second time, perhaps He was sighing at the hardness of hearts that would not open to Him.

He sighed in His spirit – truly aching for this generation that would not hear His sigh.

They would not see His desire for them.

They did not want to listen to Him.

They would not come to Him to be healed, but to argue.

Oh, how sin grieves the Savior.

He longs for chained hearts to come to Him with the desire to be freed.

Still today there are so many hard hearts that do not hear His sigh.

They do not acknowledge His love for them.

The gracious Savior yearns for them to come, and will by no means cast them out.

May we sigh with the Savior, longing for our family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, and even strangers

to come,

to listen,

to know His love,

and be healed.


Little Girl, Big Heart

Bickering, whining, squabbles… Selfishness can be clearly seen in little ones. Yet, there also can be moments of selflessness, kindness, compassion. Overall, you can get an idea of what kind of person this kid is growing to be.

Even a child makes himself known by his acts, by whether his conduct is pure and upright. – Proverbs 20:11.

I was impressed by the conduct and actions of a little girl this week. She lived long ago, but the purity of her heart has shone through centuries of history.

She was a slave girl.

Kidnapped when she was small.

Taken from her family, her town, her homeland.

She had to learn a new language and culture.

No one in this land worshipped the God she knew.

She was alone, and forced to serve the family of a rich, powerful commander.

If I were this little girl, I think I would hate the people who did this to me.

I wouldn’t wish any good upon them, or seek their well-being.

But that’s not what this little girl did.

We don’t know if they treated her well or poorly,

but she looked beyond her own situation and saw the suffering of her masters.

For all his wealth and military fame, her master was dying.

He had leprosy, an incurable disease.

The little girl did not rejoice at his calamity.

She didn’t smugly conclude that he got what he deserved.

Instead, she spoke to his wife with the clear, pure voice of a child,

“I wish that my master were with the prophet who is in Samaria!

Then he would cure him of his leprosy!”

Not only did this captive child have a heart of compassion,

She had a heart of faith.

She trusted that God would heal her master through the prophet.

What happened next is another testament to her character.

Her master listened to her.

He didn’t brush her aside or say that she’s ignorant.

He must have seen in this little girl such an upright heart,

He was persuaded that her God could help.

You can read the rest of the story in 2 Kings 5,

But I hope at least you take away a greater appreciation

for this little girl,

for the parents who taught her from a very young age,

and for the great God that she trusted.

I want my heart to be as big as this little girl’s:

full of compassion and faith.


Brittle.

Once a year, Fall arrives.

A crispness lingers in the morning air.

The farmers are out in their fields, and the crops are drying out.

Trees are marking time; leaves that were once strong and lush and green have changed.

The colors are brilliant, but they rattle in the wind.

The leaves float down to the ground and get crunched under your feet.


Those leaves really aren’t good for anything anymore.

They don’t give shade, they don’t give protection.

They don’t absorb carbon dioxide or produce oxygen.

They are dry and brittle – easily broken, cracked, snapped, ruined.

The wind carries them away.


I love how God gives us so many lessons through nature.

This is the one He teaches me every Fall:

All the things of this world are dry and brittle.

They aren’t good for anything.

While they may be brilliant (like the reds, oranges, and yellows of autumn),

They will fall to the ground.

They are broken and useless.

They’ll be crushed under your feet or the wind will carry them away.


I’ve had to be careful.

In my journey to independently publish books, I’ve listened to many podcasts, read blogs, and joined online forums.

I’ve learned lots of things about writing, publishing, and marketing.

But more than once, I’ve had to step back and take a hard look at things.

Because woven into all this great advice is a dangerous assumption:

The end goal of all your work is money and/or fame.

Work hard so that you can achieve personal success.

That’s what I’m hearing from the world.

And I don’t want that to be true of me.


I often have to remind myself of why I want to publish books.

It’s not to make a name for myself or to earn piles of money.

That stuff is brittle.


The reason I write is to glorify Christ and point people to Him.

He’s the Wisdom of God – and that’s what people desperately need.

The Wellspring of Life, the Evergreen Vine – He will never dry up.


When it comes to the end of my life, I don’t want to look back with regret.

I don’t want to be brilliant in the world’s eyes, but brittle, useless, and fruitless.

I don’t want to be chaff that the wind drives away (Psalm 1).

I don’t want the things I do in this life to be hay and stubble that get burned up (1 Cor 3).

I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling the world’s pull.

What brilliant, breath-taking things of the world are catching your eye?

Don’t be deceived, and don’t fall for them.

They’re brittle.

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Taste Item

The other weekend, Joshua and I decided rather spontaneously to check out our city’s World Food and Music Festival. Booths lined the streets and tasty smells filled the air from various cuisines around the world. Filipino, Ecuadorian, Vietnamese, Moroccan, Peruvian, Laotian, Nepalese… to name a few.

We found a Bahamian flag (the homeland of my husband) but sadly, no Bahamian food vendors.

caption for image

Still, we enjoyed ourselves as we walked around. Each vendor had lunch entrées, but they also had a “taste item” for $1.

These taste items were hit-or-miss. I’m not talking about flavor – all of them tasted good… but often the portion size was just a mouthful. One, maybe two bites. I guess that was the point, after all, but in each case, I wanted more of it.

But neither the wallet nor the belly were the right size to order more of each item. We ended up getting a couple of entrées to split, and by the time we went home, our bellies were fuller and our wallet was lighter.

The experience left me thinking about two passages in God’s Word.

First:

“O taste and see that the Lord is good!”

Psalm 34:8

There was no question as we took tiny bites to share each booth’s taste item… the food was good. It’s the same with the Lord – just the smallest experience of Him should leave us doubtless of His goodness.

But while the taste item was limited (and tiny), the Lord doesn’t give Himself like that. He pours out His goodness upon us. Psalm 65 speaks of the bounty and overflowing blessings that the Lord gives to the earth. Physically, but also spiritually.

Another difference is the cost.

$1 at each booth adds up pretty quickly! But the Lord gives of Himself freely.

“Ho! Every one who thirsts, come to the waters; And you who have no money come, buy and eat. Come, buy wine and milk Without money and without cost.”

Isaiah 55:1

If the food vendors at the festival gave away the food for free, they wouldn’t make any profit. They would actually be in the red, since they would have paid themselves for the food to be given away.

Isn’t God generous?

It’s not that life doesn’t have a cost – it’s that God has absorbed the cost Himself.

He gave up His only Son – infinitely precious – to be able to offer eternal life to us for free.

But so many people pass Him by.

They don’t hear or don’t want to hear His call.

Taste and see that He is Good!

Come and take what He is giving.

You’ll never find anything sweeter.


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Death Sentence

Torches flicker on the solid stone wall.

He knows it is morning because they just brought him bread and water.

Rats scurry on the other side of the bars.

He can hear people in the courtyard.

Voices rumble, indistinct shouts – a crowd has gathered.

It goes on for a while, then quiets down.

Silence.

The governor must be speaking, but it’s too faint to hear.

Suddenly, he hears a few voices that build to a roar.

His name.

They’re shouting his name.

BARABBAS! BARABBAS!

He freezes, motionless except for the pounding in his chest.

Why are they calling for him?

The shouts die down for another brief silence.

CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM!

He buries his head in his hands.

He knew it might happen, but not this way.

Not now.

Crucifixion?

Torture and death at the bloody hands of the Romans?

Footsteps fly down the stairs and approach his cell.

Guards unlock the door and grab his arms.

They push him up the stairs to the courtyard.

He blinks at the bright morning light.

The sea of people below him.

The governor looking on with disgust.

A man beside him, bound and bloodied.

CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM!

His arms are still gripped by the guards.

He scans at the crowd, looking for one person to have mercy on him.

His eye meets the gaze of the bloodied man.

Then the guards shove Barabbas to the ground.

They leave him and go over to the bloodied man.

They take Him away.

CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM!

Barabbas stands up.

A freed man.

There is no one to condemn him now.