“Hallelujah!
How good it is to sing praises to our God, how pleasant and lovely to praise Him!
He sends forth His command to the earth; His word runs swiftly.
He spreads the snow like wool; He scatters the frost like ashes;
He casts forth His hail like pebbles. Who can withstand His icy blast?
He sends forth His word and melts them; He unleashes His winds, and the waters flow.” (Psalm 147:1, 15-18)
This season we’re currently in is always one of unpredictability. It’s that time in Minnesota when Winter and Spring have a playful little spat over who’s going to be in charge, and my children never know if a day is going to be the sort that requires snow pants or mud boots or tempts them to go barefoot.
One day the trail is muddy, the next day it’s icy. Some days it’s softly carpeted in pine needles and sunlight.
One day, the sunshine is warm and caressing on pale winter skin, and the next the wind is whipping snowflakes at sharp angles along the ground.
At the beginning of the week, the lake is frozen clear across; by the weekend its waves are free and wild again.
But in spite of all the apparent indecision, there is no doubt that this is a time for irreversible change. For every one step back, there are two steps forward. From a distance everything may seem as brown and barren as November, but if you look closely, the buds are swelling and bursting, and there is sweet sap dripping into buckets in the maple groves and being boiled down over late-night fires. If you stop to listen, the grouse are drumming in the forest, and twittering flocks of cedar waxwings and snow buntings are taking rest stops in yards on their way north, and there’s the sound of running water through a culvert that was frozen solid a week ago. Last night, I heard the first loons calling to each other.
It’s coming,
it’s coming,
spring is coming, sure as the dawn, and I think every stalwart winter soul is ready to welcome it with open arms. This week, the April showers have been gently and generously soaking the thirsty ground—and now we await the imminent first flush of green!
“Drip down, O heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down righteousness. Let the earth open up that salvation may sprout and righteousness spring up with it; I, the LORD, have created it.” (Isaiah 45:8)
If I’ve learned anything about trusting the Lord in my 35 years of life, it’s that I still have a lot to learn about trusting the Lord.
For some reason, whenever I come out on the backside of a trial, I am naïve enough to think that after having learned to trust God in that circumstance, I will surely have no difficulties with trusting Him in the future. But then along comes a different unexpected circumstance, and too often I am surprised by my lack of faith, as I find myself wildly groping about for all my self-made crutches, brainstorming secular solutions and free falling into anxiety.
Up rises the skeptic of my soul to question God yet again: You were big enough for that last problem I had, but are You really big enough for this one? Just in case You hadn’t noticed, it’s a new problem, Lord. This one’s extra hard and scary. Can You really handle it? Are You sure You don’t need help from me on this one?
It’s a question as old as Eden. Hath God really said? Can He really be believed? Does He really know what’s best? And too often I am swayed by these whispers of doubt, and bite hard into the apple of anxiety.
To recognize the echo of Eve in my soul is humbling.
By definition, trust requires one to let go, and by nature, we humans are tight-fisted. Trusting God means admitting that I don’t have it all together. That I’m not as self-sufficient as I liked to imagine. That I have lost control. That I lack wisdom. That behind the strong, capable exterior I may have projected, I am actually weak and needy.
There is a killing of pride and self that must occur when I make the decision to trust God, and no matter how you look at it, killing always hurts. And in the case of trust, it seems like it often has to happen more than once in a given situation. As Paul said, “I die daily” (1 Cor. 15:31), and as Jesus said, “If anyone wants to come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it.” (Luke 9:23-24).
But there’s an encouraging side to this, too. Though letting go to lean into trust is always hard, it also gets easier. The more times I’ve peeled back the fingers of my white knuckled hold on whatever it is that I’m trying to handle on my own and can’t, the more times I have proven the goodness and mercy of God. The longer the list of times I have chosen to lean hard on Him instead of my self, the harder it is to resist doing it again.
When I look back, I remember…
that time He provided for my unspoken needs,
that time He moved a figurative mountain,
that time He gave grace to accept,
that time He gave a miracle,
that time He brought beauty from ashes,
that time when He transformed fear into anticipation,
that time He took away something that I did not recognize as harmful until after the fact,
that time He had far more beautiful things in store for me than I could ever have imagined.
The overriding truth is that, in each circumstance, no matter what the outcome, He was always faithful, and proved yet again that He was worthy of my trust.
Today, looking back on what has been proven and looking forward to what is yet unknown, I rest on the assurance that He is enough.
“…the one who trusts in Him will never be put to shame.” (1 Peter 2:6)
“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.” (Isaiah 26:3-4)
Memory verse: “For “whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”” (Romans 10:13)
The fifth and final step on the Romans Road is about the assurance we can have of salvation!
P.S. See this post if you’re unfamiliar with the Romans Road! Also, see this original post for info about this photo challenge and more about this reading plan I’m using this summer for the book of Romans (and I’d love to have you join in!)!
Memory verse: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23)
I memorized the “Romans Road” as a child, but I’m looking forward to reviewing it this summer while teaching it to my kids! If you are unfamiliar with the Romans Road, it’s merely the fancy name for a set of verses strictly from within this book of the Bible that clearly lays out the path to salvation. It’s such a good group of verses to have memorized for that day when someone asks you how they can become a Christ-follower, and you don’t have a Bible in your hand. If you have the Romans Road in your head and on the tip of your tongue, you have all the tools you need to confidently tell someone the simple and beautiful way to Jesus straight from the Bible.
Recognizing our sin is the first step on the road to finding a Savior.
P.S. See this original post for info about this photo challenge and more about this reading plan I’m using this summer for the book of Romans (and I’d love to have you join in!)!
About the photo: Did you know you can eat spruce tips, the pale green new baby growths that pop out on the branches in late spring/early summer? Here’s an informative article if you’d like to learn more about them! I picked these after photographing them during an evening walk, and I’m in the process of making them into an infused oil for a special recipe or two. It’s been a fun project, but edible or not, the verdict is still out on whether we actually like spruce tips. I’ll let you know what we think after we try it!
I didn’t get out to walk as much as I normally like to this winter. And for the first time in years, I didn’t even touch my skis, because by the time I got through postpartum recovery and felt up to getting on them again, the snow drifts were being measured in feet, not inches. Even you avid skiers know how daunting breaking a trail through that is!
This is all the fault, of course, of a certain cute snuggly little guy who likes to hang out with (onto) me a lot lately. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t have hard feelings about it. If you’ve ever had the privilege of being graced by one of his ready smiles, or gotten to rest your cheek on his downy head, well, then you know what I’m talking about. He was worth it, and hey, running up and down the stairs to wash extra loads of baby laundry is exercise, too, right? But it did mean that I didn’t take as many nature pictures.
Winter photography isn’t easy. The days are shorter, the light dimmer and fleeting. With so many of the living, moving things in hibernation, hidden beneath the snow, finding interesting subjects requires extra effort. That being said, I truly enjoy the way winter photography challenges and stretches my creativity, and this year, I missed the way it always renews my appreciation for the quiet beauty of the season.
But circumstances are never an excuse for failing to find joy.
So when I was looking wistfully at my untouched ski boots, or watching the light fall across the fields in a photogenic way that I wouldn’t be running out to capture as I have in the past, instead of giving into impatience or frustration, I learned to intentionally shift my mindset in two ways.
The first was to gain a deeper appreciation for what I was restricted from doing, realizing how often I have taken freedoms, hobbies and privileges for granted. When you’re missing something, it’s not okay to complain and give in to discontentment, but it IS okay to remember it with pleasure, acknowledge it’s value, and be grateful for it in a way you probably haven’t been before.
And the second? To be fully appreciative of and present in the fleeting circumstances that created this restriction, because babies don’t keep. To relish the snuggles instead of wishing away the nighttime feedings. Winter will come again, but my son will never be this little again. The dimpled fists clinging to my shirt are going to stretch out into the strong lean hands of a man, the chubby round cheeks I love to kiss are going to turn to manly stubble, the coos are going to turn into sentences, the giggles to guffaws. The days of him squealing when I peek over the edge of his cradle in the morning, or his downy little head nodding to sleep on my shoulder are numbered.
And I learned to really savor few opportunities I did have to snap a photo. These were taken while…
Hauling the camera along to the chicken coop to get a shot of the beautifully frosted windows while collecting eggs.
Rolling down the car window on the way to town to grab a shot of frosted pine branches.
Pausing for a quick photograph of the icicles above my head while airing my tires at the gas station.
On a rare walk, spotting the tracks of the multiple coyotes who had yapped in the field the night before.
There are a lot of parallels here to the strange times we’re living in right now. A pandemic is weird, strange and scary, and we’re all feeling the effects of it one way or another. We’re chafing because we can’t go places when we want to. We’re missing people and faces and fellowship. We’re disappointed at cancellations and postponements. We miss the days when you didn’t feel like you were hazarding your life and everyone else’s every time you walk into the grocery store. We’d really like to have a normal conversation again that didn’t contain the words mask, CDC or quarantine.
But circumstances are never an excuse for failing to find joy.
I hope that, instead of giving way to impatience and frustration at the unusual out-of-our-control limitations put on us this year, we can look for the good when it all seems bad. That we can be more grateful for the freedom we had before, and not take it for granted when it returns. That we can be intentional about using all that extra time at home. That we can more creative, less apathetic. That we can appreciate the opportunity to build stronger relationships with immediate family members, and the blessed simplicity of being forced to slow down. That we can learn to value the right things, and put less value on the things that don’t really matter.
Normal life will return eventually, but while you’re waiting, don’t miss the unique gifts and blessings that God may have for you during this pandemic. When we look back on 2020 in years to come, let’s be grateful that we learned new good lessons and lived this strange and memorable year well, instead of regretful that we spent it chafing for it to end.
“For I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:11-13)
I always enjoy spending the first few weeks of a new year reflecting back on the old. I read through the my journals and scroll through the pictures I took, reminding myself of what I’ve learned and experienced over those 365 days. I note the highlights and the lowlights, what was the same and what was different, what was new and what was old—and this is what I found for 2019:
There were wonderful old things—
Old friends to catch up with…
The faithful, breathtaking repetition of seasons…
Old favorite vacation spots from our childhoods, revisited with our own children…
Time-worn traditions and celebrations honored once again…
And not-so-exciting old things—
The same old piles of dirty dishes every day…
Bigger quantities of the same old cycle of laundry: wash, dry, fold, put away, repeat…
Vehicles aging, old parts needing replaced…
Old habits struggling to be broken…
But in the midst of all the old, the good and the bad, His mercies were new. Fresh, marvelous and breathtaking every day, breathing life and purpose and wonder into the sameness and drudgery of life.
There were also wonderful new things—
New faces to become friends with…
New recipes tried, new books read…
New ways I was challenged and uplifted spiritually…
A new baby to carry, birth and nurture…
And not so fun new things—
New goodbyes to be said this side of heaven…
New-to-me levels of sickness and health issues, and need for help as I went through them…
New things to forgive and be forgiven for.
But in the midst of all this, the good and the bad, His mercies were old. Not old and worn out, but old and timeless and sure. Unchanging, firm, and the same, an untold comfort in the midst of change and uncertainty.
And now I’m three weeks into another new year,
days adding to days without stopping to wait while I reflect,
already colored by the un-calculated quantities of baby spit up on my shirt, giant snow storms and unexpected events.
And I’m here to say that I’m already discovering that the same old story from last year is on repeat in the new: His mercies are new every morning and great is His faithfulness. May you discover the same, in abundance, in the upcoming year!
“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,“therefore I will hope in him.” (Lamentations 3:21-24)
P.S. Featured here are a few odd pictures that I never got around to using from 2019! Also, I know I’ve been absent from this space for awhile, but I’ve had good reason in the form of one tiny adorable little man who arrived to change the landscape of our family forever in October. To those of you who have inquired with such kind interest as to the future state of this blog: Thank you for your patience as I’ve taken a long break from here to focus fully on adjusting to life as a family of six. Lord willing, I do hope to get back to more writing and photography as this new season permits! Meanwhile, you’ll find me taking baby portraits and writing in his baby book about first smiles and that time he slept eight hours….
Perhaps the best thing about winter is that you don’t have to wake up in the wee hours to watch the sun rise. For instance, you can roll out of bed at the usual time, spend half an hour bundling yourself up, stumble your way around the pre-dawn perimeter of an unfamiliar hotel building, risk life and limb to bump your way in sitting position down the steep bouldered bank to the shore—and still make it in time to watch the entire show at leisure.
Now this (all hazardous icy rocks at the bottom aside) is a photographer’s dream life.
The wind off the big lake was so surprisingly mild for December, and the sound of the rhythmic waves so pleasant, I found a non-icy log to perch on and paused from my photography long enough to pull out my phone and find my Bible reading plan for the day. And this, totally unplanned by me, was what popped up:
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; a light has dawned on those living in the land of darkness.” (Isaiah 9:2)
It was like God whispering into the stillness of the dawn that these photos I was taking were really pictures of Him.
Warmth creeping in to melt the cold. Black fading to blue, then pink, then blazing gold. Light flooding into darkness. It was all just an echo of what He had done, what He is doing, and what He will yet do.
For me huddled on a rocky shore with a hat hastily pulled over my un-brushed bed hair.
For the receptionist in the lobby counting down the minutes until she got off night shift.
For the person in the car across the bay pausing from their work commute in the marina parking lot to watch the same thing I was.
For all the people waiting for Light, all over the world.
As I picked my way back along the sun-kissed shore, pondering this, I looked up and spotted a different trail up the bank. It was a safer, gentler route, one that I couldn’t see in the unfamiliar, un-mapped darkness, the way I should have taken on my way down. I headed up, the sun warm on my back, relieved to walk confidently and upright instead of clambering awkwardly.
Again, I saw the echoes of His love, as what was once hidden in darkness was illuminated by light. Funny how much easier it is to find the best way in the light, just like it is to find the only Way in the true Light.
“Who among you walks in darkness and has no light? Let him trust in the name of the LORD; let him lean on his God.” (Isaiah 50:10)
“I will turn darkness into light before them and rough places into level ground. These things I will do for them, and I will not forsake them.” (Isaiah 42:16)
“…for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light…” (Ephesians 5:8)
I find my mailbox stuffed full of shiny catalogs. The sign at Walmart carefully documents exactly how few days are left until the big holiday. My email inbox blinks every morning with a dizzying array of emails from all my favorite companies, wanting to make sure that I don’t forget. Christmas is coming! Whatever we sell is certainly exactly what everyone on your gift list needs!! It’s a sale you can’t beat!!! Finish you gift list with us!!! Hurry, hurry, before it’s too late!!!!
And they’re right about one thing.
Christmas is coming! But do you get as weary of all the anticipation being linked to the use of your pocket book as I do?
I’m all about a good sale. I also really enjoy putting thought and care into shopping for just the right gifts for the people on my list, envisioning their pleasure upon receiving them. I feel like thoughtful gift giving can be a truly unselfish and beautiful way to commemorate the giving of the greatest Gift the world has ever known.
If that’s really why you’re doing it.
Because sometimes, between the long lines at check out, neon doorbuster signs, the giant displays of cheap plastic stocking stuffers and the mailboxes overflowing with ads, we can lose sight of why we’re even engaging in this cultural practice. It becomes simply tradition for tradition’s sake, because “that’s just what you do at Christmas”. It becomes a burden, because “that’s what everyone expects”. It becomes a ploy, because “if I give something, I’ll probably get something back”. It becomes an annoyance, because “they have everything” or “I hate shopping”. It becomes a show, because “people will be impressed by my generosity, my cleverness and my gift wrapping skills”. It becomes a contest, because “my gift is better than your gift” (or isn’t). It can even become depressing, because “people are so ungrateful” or “my gift isn’t as nice as I would like it to be”.
But the fact is, if our “giving” has become any of these things, it has lost it’s meaning and it’s not even giving anymore. It has become some other self-centered practice, and in that case, the world would be better off if you just quit.
Not quit giving. Quit giving for the wrong reasons.
Because giving isn’t the problem. The pure act of true giving has never been anything but good. It’s in the motive and heart of the giver where the trouble can lie.
I believe that the best way to keep the motive of our giving pure is to simply seek to give as Christ gave. Jesus put Himself in a manger, knowingly beginning the path to the cross, and gave the greatest gift anyone could possibly give—Himself. What’s more, He gave that gift to everyone in the entire history of the world, past, present and future.
He gave to people who He knew would take His gift for granted, without comprehending the infinite value of what He had done.
He gave to people who would eventually turn the greatest event in the history of the world into just one more rote tradition—“a nice story to read in December and perhaps attend church to commemorate”.
He gave to a world that just expected Him to give—“no big deal, that’s what God does, and I deserve it”.
He gave fully knowing that He would receive absolutely nothing in return from the recipients—and that they had nothing to give back even if they wanted to.
He gave knowing that His gift would be met by ungratefulness, scorn and even hatred.
He gave to needy people who had nothing but thought they were rich and had everything.
He gave even though it was unthinkably inconvenient for Him to leave His throne in the heavens and confine the Eternal God of the universe to the limits of a frail human body. He gave even though it would eventually mean excruciating pain of soul and body before the giving of His gift was finished.
He gave expecting to impress no one, but only to please His Father.
No, contrary to what the retail world might like us to think, Christmas isn’t about presents. But the celebration of Christ’s birth is absolutely about giving.
“Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!“ (2 Corinthians 9:15)
“But just as you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness, and in…love…see that you also excel in this grace of giving…For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich.” (2 Corinthians 8:7, 9)
“Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” (2 Corinthians 9:7)
“Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” (Acts 20:35)
I’ve been seeing this black and white photo challenge happening around social media that sounded like fun.
Seven photos, no people, no explanations, just something from you life, all black and white. These are the rules.
I suppose I’m kind of breaking one of those rules by saying even this much, but when we woke up to lowering gray skies and the first snowfall of the year, I knew it was time to take a walk and do the challenge myself.
After all, when is it easier to compose black and white photos than when the landscape has already been turned black and white for you?
And speaking of contrasts, here’s verse that contains a truly glorious one:
“But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people; that you should show forth the praises of him who has called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (1 Peter 2:9)
Now that’s a black and white picture that takes my breath away.
Rejoicing Hills 