Lord, reading Nehemiah 3 this morning has brought me to tears. It’s basically just a list of names of people that I don’t recognize. Of course, I always smile to read about Uzziel, the goldsmith (my maiden name=). But there are not many who are superstars in the Word of God. Just a lot of ordinary people.
Oh, but what they are doing is extraordinary.
They’re rebuilding the walls around Jerusalem.
The year is 444 BC and Nehemiah, the cupbearer for Persia’s King Artaxerxes I, learns that the Jewish exiles who have returned to Jerusalem are discouraged and that the walls around the city are in terrible disrepair.
When Nehemiah hears this, he weeps and prays to the Lord. With boldness, he then asks the king permission to return to Jerusalem and oversee the rebuilding of the city walls. And the king grants his request.
Nehemiah arrives in Jerusalem, surveys the walls by night, and despite the mocking and threats of the king’s officials, sets about organizing the rebuilding of the walls.
And so I come to chapter 3. The list of names. And this is what I find, Lord. Time after time, verse after verse, Nehemiah records: “The sons of so and so built a section of the wall…next to them someone else made repairs…beside them so and so built back a section…the son of so and so made repairs…
On and on and on until every section in the wall is being repaired.
There are so many things I love about this image. I close my eyes and picture the Israelites making mortar and placing stone upon stone, shoulder to shoulder with their neighbors, each intent on building back his section of the wall.
And only his section.
They are working diligently and no one is calling across, “Hey, you have better tools. Hey, I wish I had that kind of stone. Hey, you’ve got more sons helping you.”
Everyone is doing what he or she is called to do (because yes, some gals are helping out too. See verse 3:12.)
And Lord, what brings tears to my eyes is simply this. Why can’t we believers work this way in the mundane and big tasks of our lives? Why are we, am I, so easily tricked into looking at someone else’s work for You? Why is it so easy for us to compare with others and grow jealous or proud or discouraged? Why can’t we be like the Israelites in this chapter, one big circle of diligence and consecration and love?
I smile to myself through the tears as I ask this question because, of course, I know why. We’re just a big ole band of redeemed sinners. And we have to confess this day by day.
And then get back to work.
Oh, Lord, please keep bringing us back to You through confession so that we all work together for the glory of Your name instead of comparing and back-biting and condemning each other because of different views on issues and jealousies over another’s successes.
Forgive us, Lord!
As a novelist, something else wells up inside of me as I read this chapter: a whole bunch of gratitude. I’m in the final phase of getting my novel When I Close My Eyes ready for publication. A novel I wrote which has a message that I believe is important for such a time as this.
The gratitude comes because I am not doing it alone!
Yes, I wrote the novel, but my literary agent showed it to publishers and my publisher wrote up the contract and then I handed it off the manuscript to my precious editor who helped me improve and ah-hem shorten and polish it. Then it went to a copy-editor who read it over with eagle eyes for any small errors. And then it went to those who would typeset it and design a beautiful cover. And now the fantastic publicity and marketing team is working hard to get the word out about this novel to reviewers and my savvy and brilliant marketing assistant is helping me organize my social media presence and create buzz and …
You get the picture. Side by side, we’re working together to get this novel out. The truth is, no novel is produced by just one person. Even when I self-published The Long Highway Home, I had a team of people helping me in the background.
As long as we each do our part, the process works. But there are many times throughout the long process of producing a novel when I feel stressed and worried and end up taking on tasks that I’m no good at and which very much slow down the whole process.
That’s when I have to take a deep breath and stand in front of my part of the wall and pray, “Lord, show me what task You have me to complete today. Please help me focus on that task alone for whatever time I have to invest in it. And help me trust You to give me the tools and the wisdom and words for tomorrow. So that the wall gets built one stone at a time and the novel gets published one page at a time for Your glory.”
Where are you being tempted to compare and grow jealous or take on tasks that are not for you today?
PS These are all photos of the walls of Jerusalem, taken when I had the privilege of visiting in 2014.
During a difficult season in my writing life, the Lord encouraged me greatly with these verses from Psalm 31.
Lectio Divina: Psalm 31: 1-5
“In You, O Lord, I have taken refuge; let me never be put to shame; deliver me in Your righteousness. Turn Your ear to me, come quickly to my rescue; my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me. Since You are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of Your name lead and guide me. Free me from the trap that is set for me, for You are my refuge. Into Your hands I commit my spirit; redeem me, O Lord, the God of truth.”
Lord, what beautiful verses that exactly speak to my heart where I am now. And these are the verses that were in my daily reading. Again, You show me that You are aware of where I am.
The words that leap out at me, though, are many, not just one or two.
First, shame. David pleads that the Lord will never let him be put to shame. And that is my prayer, Lord. As I have been meditating on Psalm 25 these past days, I’ve thought about how David uses these same words: put to shame.
And long ago I tasted the freedom from the guilt and shame that had pursued me. But I know, I KNOW, dearest Friend, that I have to keep this prayer ever before me because my mind and Satan are both very good at trying to put me to shame. As I’ve known for years. one of my biggest enemies is myself and the lies I hear, the expectations I heap on myself, the not good enough feeling. The comparison.
I am so thankful that I can acknowledge these condemning thoughts almost immediately now. So again, I say, Don’t let Satan or my subconscious put me to shame, dear Lord.
The next words that lept out at me were: for the sake of Your name, lead and guide me. Again, I’ve been praying this with Psalm 25 for a while: “show me Your ways, O Lord, teach me Your paths; guide me in Your truth and teach me…”
But I love the added emphasis (and responsibility) that David puts on You, Lord: For the sake of Your name. And honestly, Lord, even though I can be so inward-focused, this is my heartfelt prayer.
What I long for the people for whom I’ve prayed for years to see is that I still love You and serve You, that what I do is for the sake of Your name.
What I long for the people who read my novels to see is a God whose name is great, who leads and guides in the long tapestry of our lives, a God who weaves our story into the intricate stitches of His story.
I have often shared with others how Your Spirit has guided me in the past in very specific ways. Yes, I’ve heard You clearly many times before so do I think You won’t guide me for this next phase?
As I have given my testimony over and over to book clubs and church groups and beyond, I’ve told of that prayer I prayed when I was a young girl and kept praying for years, “Lord, if You’ve given me this gift of writing, show me what to do with it,” and “Lord, if there is something else You want me to do with this gift of writing, please show me.”
And it hit me a few weeks ago, as I shared once again with readers, “Just go back to that simple prayer, Lizzie. Of course, you always ask the Lord for guidance and that he be glorified in your writing, but right now, as you feel confused and stuck, as the waiting continues, go back to that prayer.”
And so, this morning, with the birds singing and the little brook bubbling, I renew my prayer of yesteryear: “Lord, since You’ve given me this writing gift and blessed it over and over for so many years, and since I feel stuck, please show me the way forward.”
It strikes me that this year as I’ve meditated on The Lord’s Prayer, I’ve also been more aware of praying for Your Kingdom to come. So maybe all the waiting in other areas of my life has helped me get back to the prayer You taught us to pray—Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done…
And then, I love the different names that David gives You: rock of refuge, strong fortress, my rock, my refuge, God of truth, Lord. And of course, inferred in this psalm are ‘rescuer, righteous one, deliverer, redeemer’.
So my precious Lord, my God, my Rock, my Redeemer, my Refuge, my Deliverer, my Strong Fortress, I commit my spirit into Your hands—another beautiful phrase from this psalm and a prophecy of what Christ will say on the cross—I say it again, take my life and show me if there is something else You want me to do with the gifts You’ve given me.
For the sake of Your name.
What psalms or other verses encourage you when you feel stuck and unable to see the way forward?
“Unless the Lord builds the house,
Its builders labor in vain…” Psalm 127: 1
I recently finished Beth Moore’s study Stepping Up on the Psalms of Ascent (Psalm 120-134), and, as usual, after completing an enriching Bible study, I’m not quite ready to move on. I’ve felt the nudging of the Spirit to do a Lectio on one of these psalms, and so, this morning I chose Psalm 127.
Immediately upon first reading, this word lept out at me: unless. What a marvelous word! My whole life, dear Lord, my decades of testimony, can be summed up in this one word: unless.
To put it another, less concise way, “If it hadn’t been for…”
Unless YOU had been with me…If it hadn’t been for YOUR presence in my life…
That is my testimony. The psalm says it well. Unless the Lord does it, it’s in vain. Oh, Lord, how I love the redemption implied in these verses. All of my life has been the story of Your redeeming grace.
Because if You hadn’t been there, indeed, in those quiet, terrifying moments of perceived desperation, who knows what I would have done.
Actually, I have a good idea.
But because of You, dear Lord, my life hasn’t been in vain. You have faithfully built up my house, my temple where You indwell. I would have let it crumble, Lord, on my own, overwhelmed by all of life’s demands and cruelties. My penchant for melancholy and perfectionism would have destroyed me.
But oh, happy day! That word: Unless!
From my earliest days, You have been with me, to comfort, encourage, challenge, whisper hope, and turn my eyes from self-gazing to Your beautiful face.
All this You have done by Your amazing, saving power in my heart. In my inner man.
But there’s a much broader application of ‘unless’ in my life. You have blessed me with other ‘houses’—my dear family of origin and the family of God, Your family. And then, You blessed me with a family of my own from Your gift of marriage to cherish and raise to Your glory.
How often this psalm encouraged me when our boys were tots, and I was tired. You were there to build my house, and it would not be in vain.
You know, also, dear Lord, how often I’ve smiled at that verse that says “In vain you get up early…” How I do not like to get up early! And even as I smile, I learn to recognize my rhythms, rhythms embedded in my DNA, so that I kindly accept my limitations (kindly!
No shame, no guilt—oh, that has taken Your persistent prodding to get through my thick head) so that I live and serve You with the giftings and personality You have given me.
Be kind to yourself, Lizzie. Put Me first, let Me be in charge, rest and work, rest and work, as I build Your house.
And Lord, in Your abundant kindness and good humor, You have given us physical houses to build! Back in 1992, I prayed these verses daily as we attempted to buy a house, a very small house with a small yard on our small missionary salary.
And, You, as the owner of the cattle on a thousand hills, in a blink provided me with an inheritance from an elderly and senile woman who had been my neighbor when I was a child. She had followed our ministry for all of these years, and, unbeknownst to me, left me, not a hundred dollars, as I had supposed when my father informed me that I was in her will. No, she’d left me enough money for a down payment on a very small house in the south of France.
And as that house became our home, You filled it, not only with our boys, but also with so, so many precious ‘children’ in the family of God, and many other seekers. The arrows in our quiver, as the last verse in Psalm 127 states. You built our house and blessed it as we served You in our bumbling, humble way.
And then…
You called us to another town to serve, and we sold that sweet house that You’d provided—which amazingly had nearly tripled in value over the decade we owned it—and so You provided another house in a bigger city with a bigger yard in which there was a tool shed which we transformed into my writing chalet where I could pen my stories.
Looking at the physical things in our home, I get to tell the story of Your faithfulness, because every piece of furniture, every photo (yes, there are hundreds), every piece of pottery and porcelain, all the accessories, tell one story—the story of a God who provides in the most surprising ways.
Unless, Lord. Unless You.
Which brings me to the obvious next word: because.
Because of You, my life has not been in vain. Because of Your saving, keeping, sustaining, supernatural and delightfully surprising power, my house stands on a firm foundation and will not crumble.
Because, when someone, anyone, is in You, You care for Your own, and that life is not lived in vain.
I’d love to hear how you have seen God’s Unless and Because in your life.
Last week I shared about God’s encouragement to me during a period of depression and burnout. Today I’ll share what happened the very next week when Paul and I were traveling to do member care and I had no strength…
“Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever; wisdom and power are His; He changes times and seasons; He sets up kings and deposes them. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning.” Daniel 2: 20-21
I am sitting in this amazing garden in North Africa. I am surrounded by sunlight and warm wind. The sun filters through the vines above me where they make a canopy of shade in the little walkway. On either side are two walled-in-garden areas. One is filled with olive trees and lantana and geraniums and sprouting sunflowers and fresh herbs; the other with laurier (oleander) and more blooming geraniums. This internal garden has definitely the feel of North Africa, with the tiles and the white walls and the wrought iron protecting the windows. But the vegetation reminds me so much of Montpellier and Greece. This is another Mediterranean country, and how I love it. I love the light and the familiar plants and flowers and the smell of them and the warmth.
I am smiling today, after our retreat weekend with this precious group of young people. Their leader found an amazing brand-new house—four bedrooms, four baths, beautiful grounds, a pool, gorgeous view of the hills around and the olive groves. It was windy and rainy over the weekend, but we had time for a hike and swimming and ping pong and relaxing. The house was perfect, huge and open, for all of us.
And somewhere between the airport in Lyon and that house in North Africa, my dark depression lifted. So strange and powerful that leaving France and going into a country which by all accounts is much ‘darker’ spiritually would nonetheless lift the depression.
It is Your power which comes from our begging You for help, Lord, and from others praying for us, from us admitting the truth.
And my headaches abated too.
And so, my heart was lighter, and I could truly listen to these dear, courageous workers and love them and care. Oh, Lord, You are the God who changes times and seasons, and a worn-out middle-aged women. I praise You for Your mighty power that trumps my depression and insecurities.
Once again, Paul and I see that the way You have created and equipped us is exactly what is needed in our work of caring for workers. Thank You that we are not intimidating people. That it is easy for us to be vulnerable and love and care and encourage. Thank You that this breaks down barriers.
Now I pray that, as we have these next three days to spend time one on one with these young people, You will give us great discernment and ears to hear and, if needed, words of wisdom to offer.
I am almost giddy with thankfulness that, although my ‘hard drive’ (my little brain) is full, although I am ‘done’, I can still feel love and care and hope and reach out. Merci. It is only by Your power.
Can you remember a time when God’s power transformed you, giving you the grace to push through and be used by Him even when your ‘hard drive’ was full? If shout, shout out praise to Him here!
Several years ago I was battling depression and burnout. I’ll be sharing other Letters to the Lord about that season in future posts, but hopefully, this one will be a little cyberhug to remind you, too, how much you are loved.
The disciple whom Jesus loves. (John 21:20-22)
Precious Lord, I am home from church today. I have been battling migraines ever since we returned from furlough. It seems I get these headaches twice a week, and they last several days. So I stayed home from church today because I just couldn’t bear the thought of music and people. You know that the persistent depression is another reason and so today, as I was reading through Acts and reflecting on the Apostle Paul, I also knew I needed to do a Lectio.
The one that came was from John 21 as I am especially battling the demons of comparison and jealousy and feeling so unworthy (well, I know I’m unworthy), but so much like I haven’t been a faithful steward.
Anyway, I thought you’d speak to me about comparison, but what I heard is this:
YOU, Elizabeth, are the disciple whom Jesus loves. He loves you.
He loves ME.
Just because other disciples may seem to do greater deeds than you or suffer more or invest more or whatever—none of it is really your business anyway—that doesn’t take one smidgen of the truth away from the fact that you are deeply loved by Jesus. Not less loved because you esteem yourself weaker. Not put to the side because you are tired. Jesus loves you so much that he knows exactly what he is asking of you and it is nothing like what he is asking of others. And that is okay. Your calling is different. You are the disciple whom Jesus loves, and He wants you to bask in that love today. Just accept it. Just rest in it. And when the winds of comparison or jealousy or self-pity blow your way, just go back to the truth that you are loved. Quickly repent of those sins and bask again. Just bask. You don’t have to do anything. Just bask in his love for you today. YOU are the disciple whom Jesus loves.
I am the disciple whom you love, and it is all okay! I’m sure there are many things you will keep rooting out of my life, but in this time of fatigue and pain from headaches and just the burnout, what I hear is that you love me.
Period.
So I give you the next steps. I still feel so weak, partly because of the headaches, but just in my spirit too. And so I beg you for the courage to depend on you for the next two weeks as we welcome more guests and then head to North Africa. May we be what this precious team needs. People who can help them relax into each other’s friendships and have laughter and hope.
I confess, as you know, that once again, I will be going in your strength and my weakness. Which is the way it should be. Only Lord, please let me see it as a blessing and not hold it as something that I beat myself up over. This is me, this is where I am, and how I am, and you are not surprised in the least. May I be all that they need simply because you are all that I need.
In what ways do you feel weak? In what ways do you feel the Lord’s strength?
When I was writing The Long Highway Home, one of my very favorite Persian proverbs was this: The branch that bears the most fruit bends itself thankfully toward the ground.
Oh, how that proverb made my heart sing, and I found it profoundly true.
Usually. Hopefully.
In our lives as Christ-followers, we long to ‘bear fruit’, by doing the ‘good works’ He’s chosen for us before time to bring Him glory. But sometimes it takes a long time—maybe even a lifetime—to be humble enough to ‘bend ourselves thankfully to the ground.’ Sometimes it takes months or years or decades to get over ourselves and realize to Whom we owe our gratitude.
I recently attended my 40th high school reunion. Since I live out of the country, I don’t have the opportunity to attend many reunions, but I’ve been to a few, enough to have been able to say after this one, “Well, we’ve finally gotten over ourselves. As we approach sixty, we are, for the most part, more self-aware and less out to impress.”
This has been true of my experience in ministry and in writing. Early on, I tried so very hard to produce fruit. These were the two things I could do, and I had to prove that I could do them well. For the Lord, of course. I literally wore myself out, trying on my own strength, and failing, until I learned to come humbly before the Lord and trust Him for the results.
So now, when there is fruit, I know, I KNOW, Who to thank, and it isn’t myself. I love that visual of a branch, laden with fruit, hanging toward the ground, so that even the little fingers of children could pluck a piece of the tree’s juicy fruit.
But something that happened in our yard recently forced me to ask this question: Can we at times bear too much fruit?
My husband and I returned to our home outside Lyon, France after having been in the States for over ten months. We had a wonderful young couple renting our home. They kept the house in great shape, and they mowed the yard when necessary, but we didn’t ask them to prune our fruit trees. We figured, with three young children, both the husband and wife had enough to do without worrying about our trees.
So we came back to an immaculate house and an overgrown yard. Last week as I was blithely typing in my little writing chalet, a tool shed that sits in our front yard, I heard a strange noise. I stepped outside the chalet to listen. It sounded like a squirrel or some other animal was frolicking in one of our little apple trees.
But we don’t have squirrels in this part of France. And the only things that tend to frolic are birds and bees. But this noise was of leaves rustling and apples jingling and then a crunch. I walked over to the tree, careful not to step under it. Upon closer inspection, no animal or insect was bothering our dear little tree. She had another problem that was, unfortunately, much worse. One of her biggest branches was breaking off because it was overladen with apples, hundreds of apples on this one branch. Little by little it groaned and gave way, the branch bending ever more towards the ground, although I do not believe the tree felt thankful. She was literally having a limb ripped off because of too much fruit.
We hadn’t been here to prune her back in the right season and she, bless her sweet soul, had just done her job as best she could: producing apples. Now it looked like she had done her job too well. Indeed, my husband sadly had to come and cut off the branch where it was irreparably broken.
I wonder if sometimes, as we strive to serve our Lord, we are in danger of producing too much fruit? We serve and we give and we bear the burdens of others and we keep on going, ignoring our bodies’ plea for Sabbath rest. We become overworked, but often we tend to ignore self-care which in time leads to broken branches and burn out. We dodge our Master’s pruning shears, avoiding them at all costs.
Until…
The bough breaks.
We need the Lord to cut us back and often that involves calling us to slow down. While wearing myself out in ministry and writing, I became very ill. I felt the Lord’s pruning shears as I was forced to rest. But I learned invaluable lessons about life rhythms and seasons and Sabbath.
May we take heed and allow our dear and perfect Gardener to cut us back. May we abide in Him and soak up the perfect rest for our souls that He offers.
So we will bend, but not break.
“I am the true vine and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away, and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it, that it may bear more fruit…” John 15: 1-2
Can we bear too much fruit for the Lord?
Psalm 128 Fear God and be blessed
Blessed are all who fear the Lord,
Who walk in his ways…
O Lord, thank You for this happy psalm. Thank You for reminding me that fearing You and reverencing You and obeying You are blessings! So please let me enjoy the blessing of knowing You! May I never grow too busy to lose that delight in enjoying time alone with You.
Thank You for these words from the Message: “You worked hard and deserve all you’ve got coming. Enjoy the blessing. Revel in the goodness…Stand in awe of God’s Yes. Oh how he blesses the one who fears God!” (vv.2, 4)
They make me want to dance and shout!
I am in awe of Your ‘Yes’. Yes! You’ve given me gifts and allowed me to exercise them and see fruit. You know, Lord, that in times past, I’ve despaired of seeing fruit. Often that was because I was defining ‘fruit’ in human terms of physical numbers, things my human eyes could see.
But after thirty-five years of ministry, the fruit that has come from staying attached to You, the Vine, comes back, beautiful and abundant.
These past weeks, You’ve let us enjoy much fruit through time with friends from right next door as well as all over Europe and beyond. Some share a meal, others spend a few nights in the guest room that Paul built years ago, and many others are connected to us via Skype or Zoom or What’s App. Just yesterday at a church picnic, we were able to encourage a French couple who had recently discovered our little church. What joy to hear their sweet testimony of Your work in their lives.
Here’s the thing I have learned over these many years: You have specific fruit for each of Your children to bear. And it comes first through paying attention to You, loving You, obeying You.
Our pastoral care ministry calls for us to listen well, care deeply, pray effectively, and occasionally offer counsel and advice. Doing this behind the scenes, month after month and year after year. Then occasionally You pull back the curtain of time to give us a brief glimpse of lives that are touched, seeds that are sown, hope that is given.
And we are blessed. We revel.
In my writing, fruit comes through long, long hours of solitude as I create a story with one ear to my characters’ voices and the other attuned to You. It takes a long time to see the final fruit of this ministry. But how sweet when it comes, through readers’ letters, yes, but also when I sit in silence with You, dear Lord, and hear Your pleasure as I offer the creativity You put into my DNA back to You for You to do as You will.
YOU.
Lord, may we continue to be fruitful and multiply in our pastoral care and writing ministries for Your glory. What joy! To get to live a life that honors You and spreads Your love and bears fruit.
Merci!
How has the Lord has blessed you and produced fruit through your life as you’ve simply loved and obeyed Him?
Numbers 20:1-13
I am reading in Numbers and this morning, I got to the chapter where the Israelites grumble because they don’t have water (I think I would have grumbled too). And so Moses and Aaron go before the Lord, facedown, and His glory appears and He tells Moses to speak to a rock and it will produce water. I know the story well, and it always makes me a bit mad.
Moses is so irritated with the Israelites that instead of speaking to the rock, he strikes it twice and water gushes out. But the Lord is angry and says to Moses and Aaron, “Because you did not trust me enough honor me as holy in the sight of the Israelites, you will not enter the promised land.” I have always complained, “Lord, really? Really? I mean, look how amazingly faithful Moses has been. And one little outburst of anger kills the whole deal for him? That’s not fair!”
But that’s because I am not seeing the extent of Your holiness. How absolutely important it is to You, and should be to me. And the phrase that struck my heart this morning is: “You did not trust me enough.”
Oh, Lord, how guilty I am of not trusting You enough. I’ve seen all the ways You provide, all the wonders You’ve worked, and still, in certain areas of my life, I drop the ball. I don’t trust You enough.
In so many areas, You’ve taught me to trust You.
But today I confess again some of my fears—my fear of recurring chronic pain, my fear of complications in ministry and writing. I confess the horror of my jealousies and comparisons, and how it breaks my heart. Surely it breaks Your heart so much more.
But I am so thankful to have my heart working again so that it can break. I much prefer that than the hardness of heart that sometimes creeps in.
Please let me trust You enough again, sweet Lord.
I am forgetting how much You love me, You created me, You delight in me and my giftings and more than that, You delight in using all of my life’s circumstances to show me Your ways and teach me Your paths and guide me in Your truth…
As I ride my bike along the Saône River, teach me again, Lord, those paths that You have set for me. And please, Holy Lord, today, may I trust You enough. Enough to believe that where I am today is where You want me, enough to believe that I can give myself permission to rest and enjoy time with Paul on our day off, enough to know that You will provide exactly what we need for the next step in our journey as we seek to glorify You.
And may that be enough.
Enough
Enough, Lord! Enough of it all!
I’ve had enough of myself,
My spiraling down,
Enough of that fear that
I am not enough.
Not valued enough to deserve rest,
Not loved enough to deserve to stop serving,
And simply be with You,
Not good enough to meet the unquenchable thirst
Of my spirit when my spirit is not aligned with Yours.
Enough! Enough of it
Because…
You are enough, Jesus.
I confess it again,
One more time,
Out loud
So my heart and spirit and soul hear:
“You are enough!”
So that I don’t have to be
Valued enough,
Loved enough,
Good enough,
To anyone else—myself included
Because You are enough
—oh, so much more than enough!!!—
for me, Lord Jesus.
So that when I am stripped bare of everything
But You and Your overwhelming love for me,
I see that I am
Enough in You,
And that is totally and completely…
Enough.
What area of your life do you struggle to trust God with?
It may be my favorite psalm, Lord. Psalm 121.
At any rate, as soon as I see that it’s next on my reading plan, my heart gets a thrill. Like this morning. And immediately, my mind jumps to May 1983, our first night as missionaries in that little dried-up mining town of Firminy, France. Odette and I are holding hands across the space between our beds and reciting it in French, reciting what we’d memorized to help prepare us for our journey.
And now, thirty-six years later, 36!, I’m still here, Lord. Still in France. Because you have kept me.
You’ve. Kept. Me.
Today, as I read in a new translation, (to me), The Christian Standard Bible, all the other translations I know leap out at me. You are described as: my Keeper (NASB), my Guardian (The Message), my Protector (CSB), the One who helps and watches over me (NIV), Celui qui te garde (Louis Segond)…
Maranatha! Viens, Seigneur, Viens!
Come, Lord Jesus, Come!
That refrain pops into my mind because it comes immediately after the first lines of the psalm in that old French song that we learned back in 1983.
Today my heart is full. It’s been hot, Lord, and we’ve had days to putter in the yard and make it so welcoming. The roses, the geraniums, the strawberries and raspberries giving their meager but delicious crops, the tomatoes beginning to grow on the vine, the laundry, fresh and sweet-smelling, drying on the line, the pool uncovered, the sweet goldfish that the grandkids bought swimming in the pond. Life in France.
And long walks where I make up scenes for my new novel and dictate them into my phone! Who knew?
You’ve kept me, Lord. Kept me through singleness and marriage, kids and grandkids, friends from around the globe visiting. You’ve kept me as the starry-eyes idealist who wanted to save the world, and through deep despair and depression and into more joy and more grace received. In every season of my life, You’ve been my Keeper, my Helper, my Protector, my Guardian, my ALL. My all-powerful God.
How can it be that the God of the universe, of the galaxies and beyond, is my God? How can it be?
Recently, reading again the story of the prostitute wiping Jesus’ feet with her tears, I kept thinking how ‘he (or she) who has been forgiven much, loves much’. And how my life has been realizing more and more how much I’ve been forgiven which in turn allows me to love you more and more.
Please let me grow in this love, Lord, as that old praise chorus says:
I keep falling in love with You, over and over and over again
I keep falling in love with You, over and over and over again
It gets sweeter and sweeter as the days go by
Oh, what a love between my Lord and I
Keep falling in love with you, over and over and over and over again.
This is my prayer, heartfelt and soul searching, Lord, please help me to keep falling in love with you over and over and over and over again.
Lord, I will always be a sensitive soul who is easily overwhelmed by life. And You will always be my Keeper. Thank you for those whispers of “Lizzie, you’re right where I want you to be. Keep being you.”
That’s all You ask of me, isn’t it, Lord? And by Your grace, it’s what I’ve given myself permission to do more and more. And oh, the freedom when I walk in it. This is the way You have kept me in France. By helping me be myself and use my gifts and leave behind the false-guilt that comes when I look around at what You’re calling other to do and be.
That will always be a temptation, to fall into guilt, but how much more quickly I confess and call out for help. From You. My Keeper.
Thank you for summer, for life, for Paul, for work, for stories to tell, and workers to encourage and children and grandchildren to love and pray for and turn over again to You.
Merci.
Je lève mes yeux vers les montagnes, d’où me viendra le secours? Le secours me vient de l’Eternel…
I lift my eyes to the mountains from whence cometh my help? My help comes from the Lord…
How has the Lord kept you recently?
Lectio Divina—I Corinthians 2: 6-15
Wisdom and the Spirit, Lord. Mystery and Your love. These are the words repeated over and over in these verses and in my mind as I read them.
Led by Your Spirit. Your Spirit. Spirit.
Throughout the years, I’ve had to fight not to compare when others share their testimonies. You know that one of my default sins is comparison. Even last night at the women’s meeting, when my sister in Christ shared her beautiful testimony, I thought again, hmmm, and what exactly IS my testimony?
But doing the Lectio today, I know my testimony. Led by Your Spirit. Ever since I was a little girl, You have led me, whispered to me, called me, loved me, cared for me. From the shadow of the cross on the ceiling of the cabin at the lake when I was six, to the deer on the path at the youth camp when I was a preteen, to the whispers of the Spirit in high school, calling me to go beyond my upbringing, to the charismatic time in college where I actually began to discern Your Spirit and understand a tiny bit of that power, to the whoosh of the Spirit at the Urbana missions conference, taking me so much by surprise and leading me to France, to the laughter of the Spirit introducing me to Paul, to the leading of the Spirit as You peeled away layers of pride and shame throughout my young womanhood…That is my testimony. A girl and teen and young woman and wife and mother and friend and now a grandmother who pays attention to the Spirit. But only because: “We’ve been given …the Spirit who comes from God so that we may understand what has been freely given to us by God.” And “ we explain spiritual things to spiritual people.”
This is my testimony. Again and again and again being led by the Spirit—not because I was so spiritual but because THAT IS WHAT YOU DO when You live inside us, Lord. Your Spirit flits and wanders and twirls and guides, but in that mysterious way, that shadowy figure that walks into the light, first unknown and far away as I try to discern who He is, and then as I get closer or You get closer, I know, I KNOW. It’s Your Spirit!
So, if You’ve given me this sensitivity to the Spirit—in the unique way You give to every believer—let me again relax and rejoice in this freedom, this absolute sweetness. You are leading and all I have to do is follow—follow the meandering road, not with the assurance of ease, not without suffering and hurt and heartache and pain, but with these and with joy because I know, I know that You have led me to this place, to this now, and You will lead me around the bend.
And so, I give you my day, Lord, give you any anxieties that threaten, any worries about writing and family and pastoral care and so much more. I fling them up to You and say, Please dear Lord, take the anxiety away and let me run with joy into the path Your Spirit is wooing me into. Run with joy. Trust. Confess. Twirl.
Prompt for your own letter to the Lord: How has the spirit led you?
In my other life, as a pastoral caregiver to missionaries, I had started an online Skype study with a small group of women from our mission using the Companion Guide to Sharon Garlough Brown’s novel, Sensible Shoes. Although I did not know Sharon personally, since we were both novelists, I got up my courage and asked her if she would be willing to meet with my girls for our last Skype call. Sharon said, “Yes, I’d be delighted to do that.”
I was immediately drawn to Sharon’s depth of character, evident in her writing and life. I had appreciated the introduction into spiritual direction in the book and enjoyed practicing some of the suggested spiritual disciplines.
Sharon and I corresponded a bit over the next months and, at some point, Sharon asked me if there was a prayer group for novelists that she could join—she was new to the whole fiction writing world, having been a pastor and spiritual director before she began writing novels.
I thought this was a great idea, but didn’t know of any such group that existed solely for authors to pray together. As Sharon and I talked, we both felt a stirring in our spirits that this was something inspired by our Lord.
We didn’t want this group to be about writing techniques or marketing or publishers or deadlines. This would be a safe place for our souls.
So, I began to ask the Lord to direct me to a few women who would be interested in a monthly Skype prayer group. Because I had lived overseas for thirty years, I didn’t have regular contact with many other Christian writers. But as I prayed, the Lord brought to mind wonderful authors whom I’d had the privilege of meeting in person during my occasional time back in the States.
I thought of Deb Raney who, back in 2006, had offered to be my roommate at a writers’ conference where I knew hardly anyone. (Little did I know that Deb was one of the main organizers of the conference!) Robin Grant, whom I had met at a book signing earlier, also attended that conference.
A year later, in 2007, I had attended a writers’ retreat and met, among many others, Susan Meissner.
Fast forward a few years, and I had the privilege and honor of doing a book tour in Germany with Lynn Austin.
I knew each of these women loved Jesus and wanted their writing to reflect Him, but I had no idea if they already belonged to a writers’ prayer group. When I proposed an online monthly prayer call to these four gals, I was blessed by their enthusiastic responses of “Yes! I’m honored to be invited,” and “I love the idea and don’t know of anything like this!” Counting Sharon and myself, that made six novelists, which seemed like just the right size.
We talked about our vision—having a prayer group over Skype with the goal being to encourage each other in our spiritual walk and pray for each other and our stories. We didn’t want this group to be about writing techniques or marketing or publishers or deadlines. This would be a safe place for our souls.
We’ve been meeting for three years now. We’ve walked each other through many traumas in our personal lives such as the death of parents, our husbands’ job changes, illnesses, our children’s and grandchildren’s challenges and successes.
And of course, we’ve shared about our writing journeys, encouraging each other to persevere through rejection and disappointment and the crazy demands of social media and self-publishing. We’ve applauded manuscripts completed on time, awards won, and new contracts signed. We’ve laughed at some of our missteps during signing and speaking tours and rejoiced at the love and support our dear readers give us.
The writing life is a roller-coaster ride. What a privilege to have a small group of sisters in Christ with whom we can be real about our fears, jealousies, hardships, successes, and joys.
Our main desire is to help each other keep our gaze fixed on Jesus in the midst of all the twists and turns in our personal stories and the stories we put in our books. It’s a delight to watch the Lord answer these prayers and to celebrate together.
Have you ever been part of a small prayer group that was indeed a safe place for your soul?
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I received my Huguenot cross in December of 1994, given to me by my beloved husband, Paul. We spent many hours looking for just the right cross because it was extremely significant to me. It represented the dreams of a lifetime, the answer to decades of prayer.
I was going to write a novel.
Continue reading “The Huguenot Cross: Celebrating the Symbolic”
Elizabeth Musser 