Dear Lord,
In the aftermath of Christmas celebrations, please tender my heart to the cradle and the cross. So often in this year I have sensed a deep longing in my soul, a loud yet silent lament for all that is not right. So often I have felt stymied and stagnant, incapable of doing the next thing or even knowing what that next thing should be.
The verse I have whispered in the quiet mornings (and shouted sometimes through tears) whispers again today: “Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love for I have put my trust in You. Show me the way I should go for to You I lift up my soul.” (Psalm 143: 8)
And so, for today, in the in between of the cradle and the cross, I close my eyes and remember the sweetness of this season even as I long for the new year to bring the end of suffering.
I hold these memories close and wait and whisper again, “Show me the way to go today, Lord. Just for today. For to You I lift up my soul.”
Amen
For the past several years I have been greatly blessed by The Advent Project, part of Biola University’s Center for Christianity and the Arts. The following is a devotional from December 15, 2020 which greatly encouraged me, and I pray it will be sweet for your soul, too. I have scattered photos above and throughout the post of my beloved French santons, carrying their wares to offer to the Christ Child. The above santon is dear Saint James whose relics in Santiago, Spain inspired the Camino pilgrimage in 800 AD.
THE MESSIAH’S INVITATION
Matthew 11:28-29
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“I’m Zoomed out!”
As 2020 mercifully comes to an end, we all feel a deep fatigue or weariness spurred on by social distancing, living on top of each other in tight quarters, home schooling, fogged up glasses caused by masks, and yes, endless Zoom meetings: “Tom, you’re muted.” All of us feel off. Tired.
Here’s a secret: we were weary long before COVID-19.
This universal weariness is powerfully articulated by some of the giants of Christian thought. In his Confessions Augustine writes, “You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you.” Blaise Pascal notes that our constant craving is a signal that “we have an idea of happiness but we cannot attain it.” The simplest expression comes from King Solomon who writes that without God everything—wisdom, riches, power, status—is “vanity” or chasing after the wind (Ecc. 1:2).
No one is immune to this pervading sense of disappointment, or fatigue from endless chasing. “There comes a time when one asks,” notes the great atheist thinker Jean-Paul Sartre, “even of Shakespeare, even of Beethoven, ‘Is that all there is?’” Such feelings are not limited to philosophers. Award-winning novelist John Cheever asserts, “The main emotion of the adult American who has all the advantages of wealth, education, and culture is disappointment.”
“Enough” screams Margaret Adams Parker’s striking painting of people worn down and weary. One woman—with hands open—looks up in desperation. You can almost see her mouthing the words over and over: “Enough, enough, enough.”
It is only against this backdrop do Jesus’s words carry their full import: “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” What type of rest does Jesus offer and how can it help in such turbulent times?
One of the key mistakes easy to make in times of social distancing and isolation is to merely pass the time. How can we get our minds off COVID spikes, school openings and closings, periodically barren store shelves, and the rise and fall of the Stock Market? To cope we quickly turn to leisure and amusement so prevalent in our tech savvy world—Facebook, TikTok, Amazon Prime, Hulu, The Mandalorian, and so on. Christian writer Gordon MacDonald offers a somber warning to us as we hunker down and shelter once again, “Since we have not understood that rest is a necessity, we have perverted its meaning, substituting for the rest that God first demonstrated things called leisure or amusement. These do not bring any order at all to the private world. Leisure and amusement may be enjoyable, but they are to the private world of the individual like cotton candy to the digestive system. They provide a momentary lift, but they will not last.” There may not be anything wrong with passing time during lockdown by bingeing on the newest Netflix craze, but after the last episode ends we’ll still feel a tiredness at the soul level. The more we yoke—a wooden harness used on farming animals to keep them in step—ourselves to mere leisure, we’ll be tired and longing for more. “Our hearts are restless,” echoes Augustine. Amusement must be balanced with rest.
Though not opposed to leisure or amusement, Jesus offers “rest for our souls.” This rest doesn’t ban amusement or suddenly make Zoom meetings exhilarating. Yoking yourself to Jesus puts everything in a different context and helps us walk in step with him as we face daily challenges. We find rest as we seek to learn from Jesus in the midst of a pandemic knowing these trying times are being redeemed by God and used to facilitate our discipleship to Jesus. “The great thing,” suggests C.S. Lewis, “if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s ‘own’, or ‘real’ life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life – the life God is sending one day by day.” That perhaps, is the key. To see Zoom meetings, foggy glasses, and social distancing not as interruptions or something we try to push aside with high-tech amusement, but the Master’s lesson plan for this particular day. Such a perspective will give us soul rest long after the pandemic is—thankfully—over.
Prayer
Jesus, what do you have for me this day? How can I view these present struggles not as interruptions, but opportunities to be yoked to you? Help me change my perspective and find rest knowing you are redeeming these times and daily interruptions.
Amen
Tim Muehlhoff
Professor of Communication
Biola University Co-director of the Winsome Conviction Project
You can find all of these daily Advent devotionals here. Each devotional combines Scripture, art, poetry, and music with a devotional like the one above. These devotionals continue through January 6.
I’m wishing you wonder and joy amid tears and confusion, hope and healing amidst pain and suffering, and eyes that can see the Babe in Bethlehem and worship His coming in the midst of a pandemic.
O Come let us adore Him, Christ our Lord!
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and her blog
The tree is decorated, looking perfectly gorgeous with our imperfect and oh-so-special ornaments. The needlepoint stockings, those blessedly brought back by the angel of lost things, adorn the hearth, and this year I have added a green garland, little white lights, candles, and shiny balls there too. This feels festive and sweet and happy.
Mamaw’s straw angels sit beside the fireplace on one side, along with the little wooden chair and broom from our childhoods. On the other side of the fireplace are white candle holder stands and holders and a big wicker basket with a big Christmas bow. The basket is filled with all the Christmas books I brought back from France, the ones we read to our boys in Christmases gone by and that we now read with the grandkids, and they read to us. The blessedness of time passing and coming back around to make new memories of the old.
Just yesterday in fact, the three oldest grandkids sat cuddled on the couches, each with one of those cherished Christmas books. Naj started reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas and then switched to How The Grinch Stole Christmas, which Jesse finished. I reread it for Quinn, who snuggled close, those huge, dark, dark brown eyes staring up at me, so serious, our little philosopher.
Once they were all tucked snug in their beds, I wandered downstairs where a stray shoe lay under the table and a few colored markers lay on the floor beside the kids’ masterpieces, the Christmas Coloring book becoming their favorite creative outlet.
So Christmas will come, yes, surely it will, Lord. In spite of 2020.
It will come in a quieter way this year, an exhausted way, not from endless travel, but from the drain of a pandemic and the way it has brought out the best and the worst in the world.
I am so thankful that Your Advent came in the midst of chaos and cruel kings and darkness and fear. I’m thankful that I can look back on that glorious breakthrough and know that You are still a God who gloriously breaks through our lives and our hearts.
You do it as we pause in the midst of our confusion to celebrate the first time You came. We contemplate what Incarnation means. We wait and wonder.
What a wonder that You came!
I penned this poem over twenty-five years ago, during a dark time in my life. As I remembered that first glorious Advent, once again His light broke into my soul. I pray that that Light will imbue your hearts and souls in this curious Advent season. Our God is not surprised.
Dark Night of the Soul
Dark night of the soul
Searching for a light
Deep despair stood there
On that dark night
Dark night of the soul
Hold on one more hour
Til the star brings Light
And heavenly power
Piercing through the dark
Comes a Baby’s cry
Dark dissolves in Light
With Hope held high
Each enlightened soul
Unburdened through that Birth
Shines starlight to
A desperate, dying earth
Dark night of my soul
Shadows shade the Light
Draw me deeper down
Where doubt finds sight
Dark night of my soul
Holy, hurting hour
Blind me by Your bright
Unchanging power
Piercing through the dark
Comes a Baby’s cry
Dark dissolves in Light
With Hope held high
Each enlightened soul
Unburdened through that Birth
Shines starlight to
A desperate, dying earth
Purified through pain
A hollow heart made whole
Come, Saviour, light
The dark night of our soul
Praise Him, Who lights
The dark night of our soul
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and her blog.
Ten years ago, I had the privilege of meeting Meghan Lacey at a luncheon held in her honor at the Swan Coach House in Atlanta. Since then, Meghan and her mother Lyn have become dear friends. One special pleasure for me has been to watch Meghan’s developing talent as an artist. Years ago she gave me a lovely painting of the real Swan House which proudly adorns a shelf in my Writing Chalet in France (pictured above). The charcoal drawing of the Swan House is also hers.
A few years later, Meghan and Lyn treated me to lunch at the Swan Coach House, and Meghan surprised me with this gorgeous charcoal drawing of my mother who had passed away earlier in the year. Yes, I shed many tears over this gift.
Today, I’ve asked Meghan to tell you a little about her art and share an Advent thought. I’ve included some of her other artwork throughout this post. Please get in touch with Meghan at the links at the end of this post to purchase or commission one of her beautiful works of art.
Welcome, Meghan!
Hi everyone! My name is Meghan Lacey, I am an artist who works primarily in oils but I also greatly enjoy drawing in charcoal and pencil as well. I love the beauty of nature, the quiet still moments of thought and meditation, in silence (when possible) as I complete a work of art.
However, if I am totally honest, most of the time, the voices inside my head can get so loud and quite overwhelming if I forget to quiet my heart with God’s truth. Often, I listen to music or an audio book to keep my mind occupied with a message or a tone that I am trying to convey in the art, but silence provides a truthful space where the reality of my mind and heart can come into the light. Praying for others is a great way to fill my mind and heart because it takes the focus off myself and what I am fearful or anxious about.
I don’t know about you, but one of the kindest things that warms my heart is when someone shares, “You were on my heart today and I was praying for you”. The timing of the prayer in my life is always perfect too. With these voices we hear in our head, the first time I ever connected with a story that spoke to this struggle, because darkness and self criticism can be so strong – was in Elizabeth’s book “Words Unspoken”.
I cried so much reading that book, a personal loss had occurred in my life, and I suddenly realized that God did care about my darker thoughts, places and spaces and difficult days – the laments in the Psalms are there for a reason. Lissa’s journey of healing may have been different from mine, but the battle that was fought was very much the same and I know for many of you too, it can seem to loom so large – our worries, problems, fears and concerns. Thank God, his love and promises are greater than our walk in the Valley.
As an artist, I have been on a long journey of realizing more and more how much “we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned, every one, to his (or her:) own way” (Isaiah 53:6). When I was a little girl, it was always so cute to me to be likened to a sheep. Fuzzy, white, and bleating all the time! Probably, because my visuals of sheep came from my stuffed animals, cute artwork in my Bible, or the adorable sheep costumes we got to wear in Christmas pageants 🙂 However, growing up, meeting real sheep and learning about the true animals, I am not as delighted all the time to be compared to a sheep. Indeed, “going our own way” with a stubborn nature and wandering off is certainly what we all experience as followers of Christ. I was looking up other passages I remembered and realized some things, like in the Christmas story:
“And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign unto you: you will find the baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly hose praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men!” Luke 2:8-10
Recently, while re-reading the book of Luke I realized an amazing thing – the shepherds and their sheep were the first visitors of Jesus! I am not sure why, but I just hadn’t let that sink in before? Not kings, not royalty, not priests, humble shepherds who were “keeping watch over their flock by night”. The angel of the Lord appeared to them, sharing the good tidings and inviting them as the very first visitors to come see baby Jesus. I firmly believe God makes no mistakes, I think the significance here is powerful and I think he was trying to help us learn a truth here about ourselves and Jesus too. If we are like sheep going astray, Jesus is the Good Shepherd – he will watch over us all day and all night like these shepherds were doing the night he was born.
In the book of John, Jesus literally tells his disciples that he is the Good Shepherd, he knows us each personally, and if we follow Jesus, we know his voice. He laid his life down for us – undeserving and very smelly, stupid sheep 🙂 (if you follow all of the literal comparisons between us and the characteristics of sheep). Jesus has all the authority to give up his life for us and he did – because he did love us so much!
“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know mejust as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd. The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life—only to take it up again.No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again. This command I received from my Father.” John 10:14-18
I think with sheep, that wander off and lack the wisdom to follow the guiding voice of the shepherd, there is certainly a vulnerability and dependence that must be acknowledged. This kind of brokenness is not something we like to look at as Christians – or human beings for that matter, but the truth is – we cannot do anything on our own.
In “The Swan House”, Elizabeth tells the story of how Mary Swan Middleton and the memory of her mother Shelia, are both complicated and messy but still very beautiful. While reading the book, I understood the description of Shelia’s life as an artist on such a personal level. One of the best parts of this analogy is as an artist, the artwork done is therapy for the artist (expressing the inexpressible) as the art itself can be therapeutic and minister to others once it is completed. Also, it is remarkable how each painting has so many stages of very inscrutable visual depictions that somehow harmonize into a painting or finished work of art. It takes patience and faith in the process. Enjoying the journey, but accepting the messy stages as they really are with grace. Now, I see this “sheep-like” dependence actually as a strength – where some people in the world might think it weak. But Jesus himself was humbled and made into weakness – he was not a powerful mythological god standing on top of a mountain throwing things at us – he literally came to earth. He was not far off from us – he was very near, close to us – “God With Us” – Emmanuel.
Even when John the Baptist saw Jesus coming he said, “Behold the Lamb of God who comes to take away the sins of the world!” (John 1:29). Since Jesus identified Himself as the lamb of God, the sacrificial lamb whose death would pay for our sins, now it seems more clear to me why shepherds and sheep would have been welcomed at the birth of Jesus. Baby Jesus lay in a filthy, feeding trough with animals all around him, a very humble place for the Son of God to arrive, but that is how Christ came – in love and humility for the salvation of us all.
When I consider all of this, and much more, how Christ loves us so well, the darkness and clouds in my mind will blow away. It still ebbs and flows with time, but I know that returning back to meditate on God’s truth and praying again and again and again, but allowing the stillness to come even when it’s a bit scary, that is good. I hope that you will be encouraged to lean on Jesus too, filling your hearts and minds with truth and beauty, when the doubts, fears and concerns seem to flood your minds.
This Christmas season, I am looking forward to reading “The Promised Land” 🙂 and I am so thankful to call Elizabeth a friend in my life! Her characters and stories reflect the real state of hearts and how God does work all things together for the good of those who love Christ. Thank you for reading my words today, but most of all I hope we will all take comfort in God’s truth today! He is always working! Praise God!
Blessings,
Meghan
Meghan Lacey was raised in sunny and warm climate of Central Florida and has spent the last ten years living in the beautiful foothills of Georgia. She credits her mother, Lyn Lacey, as her inspiration for her artistic endeavors. While still in high school, Meghan received classical drawing and oil painting instruction from Chris DiDomizio from 2006-2012 and watercolor painting instruction from Dylan Scott Pierce from 2009 until 2012. From 2014 to 2015, Meghan took private lessons from portrait artist Leah Burchfield Mantini. She has taken workshops from artists such as Don Sondag, Jordan Sokol, Amaya Gurpide, Mia Bergeron, Anne Blair Brown, Dylan Scott Pierce, Brett Weaver, and Suzy Schultz. During the fall semester of 2016, she studied abroad at Oxford University through the Scholars’ Semester at Oxford, where she studied History of Art as a registered visiting student. Meghan graduated with her B.A. in Art and Design, with a Concentration in Painting and a Minor in Art History at LaGrange College in May of 2017. Recently, she learned the art of organic farming at Serenbe Farms, GA. As of Spring 2020, Meghan is pursuing her M.F.A. in Painting, online through Academy of Art University, San Francisco, CA.
Website: www.meghanlacey.com
Instagram: meghanclacey
Email: meghanlacey24@gmail.com
Today I’m delighted to have Margaret Kirby as my guest on Letters to the Lord. I met Margaret over email this summer as she and her best friend were reading my novel, The Swan House. Margaret is a gifted young writer whose post today gives us much to ponder as we begin the glorious Advent season. Welcome, Margaret!
Yeats told me once that things are falling apart, that the center cannot hold. I always assumed he was right. Maybe he understands things better than I. But I don’t think I believe him anymore.
This year has been fraught with all sorts of unbalance, and the last thing I would say about my life is that it’s holding together, but there are moments when I feel as if everything is right and as it should be. I’m trying to cling to these moments. I imagine myself gathering them, picking them up like petals on a path so I can feel their softness in my fingers when the world tries to tell me there is no beauty. One of these moments I’m clinging to has been singing with my college choir each day. We’ve been rehearsing in one of the most beautiful spaces– Hodges chapel on our campus– it’s a place that takes your breath away and makes you want to whisper and shout for joy all at the same time. There’s a dome, a big blue dome with a whole company of saints and angels surrounding the perimeter. I never feel like I’m alone in Hodges. And there’s something about blue domes and heavenly heights that sends sound soaring, sound that would normally dissipate all too swiftly, lingers for a while, reminding us that maybe melodies are meant to be held onto longer than we think they ought to be. When I sing beneath the center of that dome, I feel like I’m being held.
Recently I read in Hebrews: “At that time God’s voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, ‘Once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.’ The words ‘once more’ indicate the removing of what can be shaken– that is, created things– so that what cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe” (Hebrews 12:26-28).
We are inheriting a kingdom that cannot be shaken. And although we are looking around at our world, at everything shaking and falling apart, maybe it looks like anarchy is let loose upon the world, but the One at the center of the dome told me that He would remove whatever can be shaken so that what cannot be shaken may remain. And the whispered response of my friend Augustine floated down from those heavenly hallways saying, “our house, Your eternity, does not fall down.” And He has set eternity in our hearts. There is a house within us, a sanctuary housing eternity, centering all this entropy. I know it’s inside me. It’s that tug on my heart when I have to tear myself away from beauty. When I have to leave the trees dripping with the gold of evening to go write a paper. And it’s also that longing that sometimes keeps me up at night, that longing to be held. To be known. Truly known. (Not unlike sweet Mary Swan).
And what is Advent if it’s not one stretch of longing. “Dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart.” We need it this year more than ever. I’m realizing that longings for beauty and longings for love actually all intersect somewhere. I felt it beneath that dome. The unity. The crescendo when we realize He’s inside us. All these longings, for love and beauty, for order and calm, they all meet inside us–we feel them to the depths of our cores, but these longings also meet in the One who loves our souls– they meet in Him because they are met in Him. “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.” He fulfills them. And this is the most beautiful thing of all, that this Lover is my Lover. He is inside me and He is inside you, filling our empty places, bringing the longings and the strife to a calm center, and holding us. So no wonder all those lines of longings overlap and enfold our hearts. No wonder life is such a mixture of pain and joy. We’re the point of intersection! And if we’re where all these longings come to collection, then we must also be the point of resurrection. For if we didn’t feel these things, then that would mean their convergence, the center where our Lover waits for us, wouldn’t be inside us after all. And then I think chaos really would reign. Then I think things would fall apart. But you see, the center will hold. I have felt Him holding me.
I’m so grateful for this opportunity to share my thoughts with you and for Elizabeth’s kind spirit and generous mentoring! Godspeed, friends, and may your Advent season be full of light.
Margaret Kirby is a junior at Samford University pursuing a bachelor’s degree in English with a double-minor in Classics and Philosophy. She is a member of Sigma Tau Delta, the Wide Angle editorial staff, and she sings in the A Cappella choir. Some of the things she loves most are the sky, old books, the smell of coffee, and the way food brings people together. She especially loves her Southern authors (mainly Sidney Lanier and Eudora Welty), and she also considers George MacDonald to be her grandfather in the faith. Her main purpose in life is to re-discover the magic of being a little child in the kingdom of God. So when she isn’t reading, writing, or singing, you can probably find her out gazing at clouds, wandering through forests, or looking for fairies.
You can find her on instagram @margaret.kirby.writing
and at Labyrinth of Dreams
Listen to the Samford A Cappella Choir singing: “Jesus, Lover of My Soul:”
I’m interrupting my last post about my Digital Camino experience to repost this Thanksgiving reflection from a few years back. I think we could all use a good laugh this year, and a chance to remember that a perfect Thanksgiving can be seen in many different ways. I’m praying for us all to find deep thankfulness this Thanksgiving for the fact that we are alive and beloved by our God and so many family and friends, no matter how far apart we are. Without further ado: The Turkey Trot!
It’s that time of year again, and it’s not what you think. Yes, the turkey trot centers around Thanksgiving, but the ‘trotter’ is me, and I’m usually trotting from France.
For the past thirty years, I’ve lived in France and for most of those thirty years, my Thanksgiving holiday has been spent there-in France where they do not celebrate Thanksgiving and where they do not fatten up turkeys until December.
Hence the turkey trot where I am literally trotting all over town trying to find a turkey for the annual Thanksgiving meal we celebrate on whatever Saturday or Sunday falls nearest to Thanksgiving.
My first turkey trot occurred in 1983. I had been living in a dried-up mining town for about six months working in a tiny Protestant evangelical church of twenty members, (on a good Sunday). I was twenty-three and was just barely beginning to learn to cook. In France. A great place to learn, mind you. Except when it involves turkeys at Thanksgiving.
My roommate and I ordered a turkey from the local butcher. He dutifully handed it over to us on Thanksgiving Day (which is not a holiday in France, hence his store was open). Take note, the turkey was wrapped up, and we took him in good faith that what we were receiving was indeed a turkey.
Back home in our tiny kitchen with the gas stove which we had finally learned how to light without singeing our eyelashes, we opened our packaged-turkey.
And I screamed.
It was a turkey, all right. Complete with its head, claws and everything else. A skinny un-headless turkey!
Fortunately, my dear roommate had been raised on a farm and decapitated the poor thing without much ado. But we were both amateur cooks and burned the poor famished thing to a crisp.
Fast forward through about thirty years of other turkey stories. I’d learned to order the bird way in advance and then call ahead of time to make sure that my butcher had indeed found a fattened (headless) turkey for my Thanksgiving feast.
Even with these precautions, we often found ourselves, me and my fellow turkey-loving ex-pats, in the midst of a fiasco. The butcher forgot. Forgot??? The turkey was tiny. The order got mixed up and at the last minute, instead of buying a turkey for the equivalent of forty dollars, we had to get one from a faraway farm. The turkey was fattened and delicious. And cost a mere one hundred dollars.
Once, anticipating a large crowd, I ordered an eight-kilo turkey (about twenty pounds). The butcher gave me a startled look, leaned towards me with dancing eyes and pronounced, “Madame, c’est une dinde! Ce n’est pas une vache!” “Dear Madame, this is a turkey you want, not a cow!”
Sigh. I got two three-kilo turkeys that year.
But one year, I decided to host only a few very close French friends, with no lingering ex-pats, to enjoy the turkey feast. My friends were honored and delighted. I was thrilled with this opportunity and put in my order a month ahead of time. Then two weeks before the pick-up date, the butcher called to assure me all was set.
‘Oui, Madame!’
I would have my five-kilo turkey.
On a bright Saturday morn in November, I headed to the butcher’s to pick it up. The Thanksgiving celebration was to be on Sunday (since, as you recall, there is no Thanksgiving holiday in France.) I got to the counter, spoke to the butcher, and he nodded, all smiles. He remembered me (my lovely Southern accent serves for something!) Off he trotted to find my turkey.
I waited. And waited. And waited.
He returned, looking quite confused. He consulted in whispers with his colleague. At last, with an expression of extreme desolation on his face, he explained, “I am so sorry, tres desolé, madame, but it seems that we have sold your turkey to someone else just this morning!”
A mix-up. Simply nothing to be done. And there were no other fattened whole turkeys to be had.
I couldn’t believe it. And yet I could. As we have seen, France and turkeys for Thanksgiving are always a bit tricky.
I stood there with my mouth agape, and was about to pronounce a few choice French words when a friend tapped me on the shoulder, surprising me. Shoot! I would need to control myself in front of her.
The butcher ended up giving me this ‘wonderful deal’ on two huge turkey thighs and a big turkey breast. He even bound them together, as if this was going to simulate a real turkey that I could actually stuff.
I could only shake my head and laugh. Here I had envisioned myself presenting my French friends with a gorgeous stuffed turkey, surrounded by plump purple grapes, the perfect blend of America and France. (Photo below from a previous Thanksgiving).
But I refused to let this dampen my joy at having my friends, and so I moved into what the French call ‘System D’—it’s short for se debrouiller and basically means, just figure it out.
And I did.
And we celebrated. And it was just perfect.
This year, I’m in America for Thanksgiving, and I am heading to the butcher’s to pick up my—um—’cow’.
My Fourth Camino walk centered on the theme of perseverance. Oh, don’t we all need perseverance in this seemingly never-ending season of Covid-19 and other 2020 Craziness?
Again the questions are in bold, with my answers below.
Where do you need perseverance in your life right now? Where do you dig up the perseverance necessary to push past your limitations?
In my darker moments, I think, “I don’t push through. I just give up.” But I know that in truth, Jesus, You’ve kept me on the mission field for 30+ years and in this writing business for 25+ years, and I guess you’d call that perseverance.
On my walk today, I tried to do a different loop—or same roads, but backwards. And I noticed several things: one is the road called Durance. I even took a photo of it. A wink, Lord. I’m on Durance Drive while I am listening to a podcast about Endurance. It was about at the halfway point. Endure.
Then I saw this funky wooden parrot in a front yard. I don’t think I’d ever noticed it before. It’s weather-worn, perched on a narrow pergola covered in vines. But I did a double take as I noticed it because the novel I’m reading right now has a parrot as one of the main characters. Again, it felt like You were winking at me, Lord, and saying, “I know exactly where you are in this life, this day, this walk around the block, Lizzie. I’m here with you.”
Where do I need perseverance? I want to persevere in You, Lord, and trust that my little piece of the puzzle is enough for You.
PSALM 63
1 You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water. 2 I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. 3 Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. 4 I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. 5 I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. 6 On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. 7 Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. 8 I cling to you; your right hand upholds me.
How might your experience of physical tiredness, discomfort, thirst, or hunger help you to press into your physical and emotional needs and longings for God today?
Well, of course, I felt another wink as I read Psalm 63 in the exact translation and the exact same verses (vv. 1-8) that I have memorized and meditated on for so long. For my breath prayer, I chose ‘God, my Upholder” and now I can’t remember the second part. “I trust in You?” “You provide for me?” Anyway, it was about endurance, and I have never called You my Upholder before, Lord. But that last line: Your right hand upholds me. I think of it often, and it is so true. Praise You for being my great Upholder!
When I feel overwhelmed, this calls me back to You, Lord. Yes, of course. I wish it weren’t such a battle to get my thoughts off of whatever is overwhelming me and back onto You. I long for the simplicity of trusting You in the deep fabric of my life so that all the mountains and valleys are faced with quiet confidence and joy.
MATTHEW 11:28-30
28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
As you walked, where did you sense physical weariness in your body? Consider the current circumstances: Your life. Your work. Your relationships. The events that are shaping our world right now. In what ways are you weary? What burdens are you carrying? How does Jesus want to share the burdens that you’re carrying this day?
Of course, Lord, I think back to when I did this walk in the summer and the image of taking Your yoke and learning from You. My spiritual director encouraged me to sit with these verses, and I loved the picture I received: I closed my eyes, and I was with You, Jesus, in the throne room. I had my huge backpack and was unpacking all my ‘stuff’ and laying it at Your feet.
I just kept pulling stuff out of the backpack and piling it in front of You. But it was getting so high, it was covering Your chair! Finally, my backpack was empty and I looked up at You and said, “I’m sorry, Jesus, that there’s so much stuff.” But You just scooped up all the ‘stuff’, outlined it like on Google Drive so that it meshed into one little piece that You then could drag over and dump into Your backpack. And You did! So my pack was empty, and I thought Yours would be huge and heavy, but it wasn’t. And then You invited me to stand up, and we started walking and You said that Your pack didn’t feel heavy at all! Yours is an easy burden.
So the invitation is for me to keep giving You all my stuff so it can be Your yoke, and we can carry it together. And I may have to keep asking myself throughout each day, “Am I picking up all this stuff again? Or what am I picking up now that I need to give to Jesus?” And that’s okay.
Then I thought about how You say in those verses “Take my yoke on you and learn from Me for I am gentle and humble of heart…” and I thought, “What am I to learn, Jesus?”
I am to learn how to carry Your easy yoke, always with You; how to keep emptying myself as You did, so that I too am gentle and humble of heart.
I want to let the way be made by walking. I have no idea what the next steps are, but You do, and together we can persevere. I can trust You on that.
Where do you need to persevere today, dear reader? Can you give Jesus all the ‘stuff’ in your backpack and then take His up His easy yoke?
***These photos come from my Camino walk in France in 2018. To see more photos and videos of the actual places I walked (which are also mentioned throughout The Promised Land) go to my Facebook Author Page and to Instagram.
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and her blog.
This third Camino Walk, Lord, centers on the themes of Hospitality & Gratitude. I first listened to the Camino podcast for Week 3 while walking near my home in France in late July of this year. Here were my thoughts:
One of the Bible passages that was from John 12:1-8 where Mary shows extravagant hospitality, gratitude, and generosity.
“1 Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 2 Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. 3 Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, and expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. 4 But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, 5 “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” 6 He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it. 7 “Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. 8 You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”
I was asked to reflect on the following questions.
What is one experience you’ve had where someone has shown you profound hospitality and for which you’re still grateful? How did that feel? Was it a little uncomfortable?
How could you create a space of welcome for others? Is there an act of hospitality for a specific person that you can put into action in the next few days? In this broken and inhospitable world, what is one way God is inviting you to practice the kind of radical, unconventional hospitality of Mary and Jesus?
As I reflected on ways I could give generous hospitality to others in the next days, what I thought about was how in the past month we have offered generous hospitality to a dozen different people who have come to our house for a meal or a night and how we have given them space to tell their stories. We have listened with love, and we have prayed with them. This is the lesson of the Camino, and this is what You have called us to do for our whole lives
And as I paused, what I heard from You is “Well done. You are doing a very good job of offering hospitality and experiencing gratitude. Well done, daughter.”
I thought about how some of us sensitive souls who tend to be too hard on ourselves and to easily fall into self-incrimination, need to hear Your gentle loving voice saying, “Well done.”
Thank you for this reminder, Lord.
As Paul and I returned last night from a 4-day road trip down through the Camino territory that I had walked two years earlier and also down into Provence, where another part of my book The Promised Land takes place, we were tired. I’d made over 60 short videos to share with my readers once the book is released in November, and taken hundreds of photos too, again with the intention of sharing them with readers. I was thankful and delighted to do this, but it took a lot of time and energy, and I knew it would take a colossal amount of work to organize them. Was all that effort worth it?
With fatigue and questions running through my head, I knew my soul needed to take the Camino walk this morning instead of welcoming yet another guest. Thank You for the reassurance that today, this is what we are to be doing. Paying attention to You in the present, taking a walk, enjoying the beauty of Your creation, showing gratitude for Your abundant generosity, and passing that gratitude and joy on to others.
But it’s okay if I do not pass this on to everyone every time there is a possibility. This too I need to hear.
Life is a journey, life is ministry, life is loving others as You would love them and loving my neighbor as myself. And sometimes we need to slow down again and love ourselves so that we can continue loving others. And to hear You say, “This is good; this is good.”
Thank You, Lord, for teaching me to give myself permission to slow down.
I also reflected on how my ability to be generous with all different things: my time, my writing, my material possessions, my finances, my life, my friendships, my pastoral care—all of these ways that I have learnt to be generous, were modeled in some ways by my parents. My mom who was generous with her time in the inner city, and by Dad who loved to give extravagant gifts and take us to fancy places and restaurants. Their generosity paying for private education gave me a freedom to do something different. I’m not saying they were thrilled with me doing something different, but they let me go, and I’m thankful for their act trust and for their generosity.
Now today as I am heading home from my Camino walk, my prayer, dear Lord, is that You let me settle into this gratitude on the Sabbath day and enjoy all Your good gifts: the wonderful gift of my husband, Paul, the good gift of our home and the freedom to worship You, the good gift of French friends and our little church, the gift of technology that allows us to worship online, the good gift of sitting in the lounge chairs behind the house and listening to You, the good gift of wrapping all the good gifts we purchased on our excursion, gifts for us to be taken back to America and given away.
Reflect on these things and enjoy Your day.
Help me to keep trusting you, Lord, and to enjoy Your presence today in the midst of all the unknowns about our lives, unknowns about the future with Covid-19 as it continues to wreak havoc on our world. May I find your peace today knowing I am Yours and may that influence how I live today for You, for Paul, and for others. Amen
I encourage you, dear reader, to spend some time in the next days reflecting on these themes of hospitality, gratitude, and generosity, listening for the Lord’s gentle nudging, and perhaps His voice saying, “Well done.”
**You can see the videos and photos of the Camino and Provence mentioned above on my Facebook and Instagram author pages. I hope you’ll enjoy traveling with me and perhaps also with the characters in The Promised Land.
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and her blog.
It’s launch day for The Promised Land and what a day to launch a novel about loss of control! Don’t we all feel like life is out of control? How I’ve needed to take deep breaths and concentrate on today’s Camino Walk theme: Presence. Again the reflection questions, Bible verses, and poetry are in bold with my responses after.
The place where God meets us is the present. Wherever we are and however we are in the present is where God longs to dwell with us. What keeps you from being fully present to God?
For sure it is the constant chatter in my mind that I have to forcibly turn off.
How does it feel to know that God longs to be with you right now, no matter how messy your life or your world are?
It feels like a warm hug and a worn, comfy fleece blanket wrapped around me. I know this truth. I love settling into it, but again, getting rid of the chatter and relaxing into God’s presence has been a challenge this past week.
Psalm 84: 1-7
“1 How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty! 2 My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. 3 Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God. 4 Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you. 5 Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. 6 As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. 7 They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion.“
What do you feel like your heart has been “set on” in this season?
Oh, Lord, my heart has been set on several very disparate things. First, the launch of The Promised Land. I believe it’s for such a time as this. Which brings me to the second thing my heart is set on: how to shine for Jesus in America during this very complicated and tumultuous time. I have been praying that The Promised Land will offer hope and redemption for such a time as this.
And thirdly, my heart is set on loving my family well with my presence since I am here in the States. That is bliss! Lastly, my heart is broken for my adopted country of France and the horror that has taken place there in the past weeks combined with the fact that they have just gone back on a very severe lockdown because of escalating Covid cases.
My heart and mind seem to be living in multiple universes that for this time are intersecting: my writing, my pastoral care profession, my spiritual journey, my family, my two countries as today I toss out into this world a book about pilgrimage.
What might it look like to set your heart on pilgrimage?
It will look like now, because my heart IS set on this journey with You and trusting You to hold me for each step no matter what is right around the bend. I long for all of us who are struggling along in 2020 to find the joy and peace of Your presence. For today.
THE SUMMER DAY
BY MARY OLIVER
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean the
one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down who
is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
In the poem, the narrator says, “I don’t know what a prayer is”… how might what she is doing—paying attention, noticing, being, and enjoying the day—be connected to prayer?
“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
Love this poem and yes, I believe being present and noticing life and enjoying are all a part of prayer. I have loved that about these Camino walks, allowing me to rejoice in all the beauty around me. And Lord, You know what I plan to do with my one wild and precious life. It is what I’ve always longed to do, what I’ve been doing for these sixty years. Follow You.
MATTHEW 6:25-34
25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? 28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
What may God want to teach you today through paying attention to creation?
Not to worry! He provides. Trust. These basic themes of life that are easy to say and read and hard to live. Do not worry! Do what is before me today with joy because I am trusting that the Lord is in control. Pay attention to what is happening in my midst, to me, and those with whom the Lord brings me in contact. Do not compare with anyone else.
Oh, Lord, as I live in the wonder of You and Your creation today, delighting in the part You let me play in creativity, how much more peaceful life is. Yes, sometimes, that peace inundates me, Lord, as I pay attention to You.
How have you experienced God with you as you journey? How has he been giving you courage and nourishment, and welcoming you to rest?
The little things, Lord. It was such a glorious fall day and I soaked in the beauty of Your creation. I miss the wilder beauty of my walks in France, Lord, but I rejoice in the American beauty of well-kept yards and bright orange pumpkins and mums. And the birds, flying by. The tall trees, the splendid mountains all around. Delight.
What have you been learning about presence today that you want to remember? Is there a next step you feel led to take in light of this walk’s theme?
It’s again what You showed me in France about Your presence—giving, You, Jesus, all the extra weight I am carrying in my backpack. Keep giving it to You, sweet Lord, and enjoy my time with You! In spite of the heaviness of this season in our world, when I give my burdens to You, I can soak in the beauty of the now and my heart is filled with praise.
I invite you, dear reader, to take time to consider some of these questions, too. I’m praying for all of us today, and in the days to come, to seek first God’s Kingdom and trust in Him.
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and her blog.
For the past two weeks I’ve been doing a Digital Camino with InterVarsity. Lord, You know how I’d loved the experience in the summer, so when it was offered again in October, I signed up. With an added bonus. I invited readers to join me on the journey.
And half a dozen readers did sign up. So for twelve days each of us immersed ourselves in walking the Camino from wherever in the world we happened to be. We listened to a podcast on each of five different walks. Then later, we’d ‘debrief’ via zoom, discussing the questions provided to ponder after each walk.
And You met me, met each of us, in such sweet ways, Lord, as we walked, step by step, listening, breathing, praying, observing nature. Such simple things. Such life-giving practices for our souls.
The first walk centered on the theme of Simplicity.
Here are a few questions (in bold) that we pondered after our first Camino walk:
Along this Camino, you are invited to carry a stone that symbolizes something you’re going to want to leave behind. What does Jesus invite you to leave behind?
The stone I picked up this time symbolizes that I am leaving behind my need to try to control so many things in life that are past control and end up spiraling me into worry. I kept repeating on this walk: I relinquish control, Lord, and I trust You. Covid has certainly made me and all of us aware of our lack of control.
During the walk, you are encouraged to practice a breath prayer based on the first verse in Psalm 23: “Lord, My Shepherd / I lack nothing.” How does it feel to say you “lack nothing”? How is God inviting you to trust that he is going to meet any places of lack in your life?
Praying the breath prayer, Lord, was humbling, convicting, and ultimately freeing and joy-producing. First, it is so true that I lack NOTHING—I have a home, a family, two jobs, enough material comfort. Most of all, I have YOU. Yes, I have SO MUCH. I am humbled by the way You have provided for all my needs. Even during this strange Covid season, I have enough.
But I am also convicted about my selfishness in wanting MORE. More time, more opportunities, more freedom, more of whatever I’m thinking will fill me up. Thank You for forgiving me when my pride and greed take over. Please help me forgive myself for my selfishness and trust You, my Gentle and Loving Shepherd as I relinquish control again and again and move into Your grace.
What are extra things that make you feel more secure in your life journey? What would it be like to release those today? Ask God if there is something specific he is inviting you to leave behind.
Lord, so often I carry way too much baggage (physically and emotionally) on my life-journey. I love the emphasis on the Camino of simplicity. Taking only the bare essentials and walking, step after step after step. I know You are asking me to leave behind the burden of trying to control the results of launching The Promised Land out to readers. So much work is involved in the writing and the editing and the marketing: days, and weeks, and months, and years of work. And the question and the plea: Is it worth it? Oh, Lord, please make it worth it, whatever that means in Your Kingdom.
In Matthew 10: 5-14, Jesus invites his disciples into a mission of hope and healing, a mission that is too big for them. But instead of having them gather extra supplies or acquire advanced training and credentials for the task, Jesus tells them to take less than what they think they need. Jesus invites them to simply and profoundly trust the One who calls them. How can you trust Jesus and step into his mission?
My temptation is to try harder and harder. You keep reminding me simply to do my part and trust You and others to do what I cannot. But Lord, You know that trusting part is really difficult. Not only for this book, but for so much more, our workers, our family, our country, and our world. Trust You. The way I can trust You today is by giving over to You my worries, even if I have to do it 100 times in a day and focusing on You and the way You have provided in the past for Your disciples, for all the believers who have gone before me, and for me, too. For today. Simply for today.
I invite you, dear reader, to choose a stone from somewhere near your home to carry with you in this season. For the next weeks here in Letters to the Lord, I’ll be sharing more of what the Lord revealed to me during this Virtual Camino and praying that you will take time to consider some of these questions, too.
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and her blog.
It’s always a big deal for an author to get a nice review from Publisher’s Weekly. So when this one for The Promised Land popped into my inbox a few weeks ago, I was delighted.
“Characters from Musser’s The Long Highway Home return in this touching story of four pilgrims walking the French Camino… (see image below for more of the review).
Of course, I chuckled a little because The Promised Land is actually the third book in The Swan House Series. But the reviewer is right in that readers will appreciate added depth if they’ve read The Long Highway Home, especially since Rasa, the seven-year-old Iranian refugee who loves Jesus in a simple, profound, and mysterious way, is now a beautiful teenager who steals a young man’s heart.
The Swan House and The Dwelling Place have been on sale in past months. So now, as we’re in the final stretch before The Promised Land is released, I’m putting The Long Highway Home on sale this week only.
Click on the image below to order.
All of the novels I pen hold a very special place in my heart. The Long Highway Home and The Promised Land are so special because they tell fictional stories based on real stories. One of my favorite things to research for The Long Highway Home was Persian quotes by the amazing poet Rumi.
Another of my delights was writing the scene below from The Long Highway Home that is based on a real Christmas program held for refugees each year:
The refugee thought she would watch the puppet show for her young daughter, but almost instantly she felt a certain flip-flop in her stomach. The play was called “Jesus, the Refugee.” She listened as the narrator, speaking in English and being translated into Farsi, Arabic, and German, told of Mary and Joseph going on a long journey. Mary rode on the back of a donkey, and she was heavy with child. The narrator explained how tired Mary and Joseph were, how long the trip took, and how once they reached the desired village, there was no room for them!
Ah, yes, she understood that. No room! She found herself nodding silently, and, to her surprise, many other heads were nodding too. Yes, they could all understand this story.
She nodded again when the narrator told of Mary giving birth to Baby Jesus in a barn. She thought of her own baby’s birth and bit her lip to keep from crying. This story was so very hard and so very familiar!
Then the narrator explained how Mary and Joseph had to take the Baby Jesus and flee into another country for safety because of an evil king. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Why had she never heard this story before? Jesus had been a refugee just as surely as her baby was one now.
She had heard that Jesus was the Savior born of a Virgin, that He was God and perfect and could forgive sins; that He was magnificent and powerful, that He had chosen to give these things up to become like her—a human. But she had never heard that Jesus had been a refugee.
Suddenly, this Jesus seemed all the more interested in her life, in her family’s life. She could not stop the tears as she watched the makeshift stage where the puppets told a story that broke her heart and brought it alive with hope. This Jesus did understand, just as she had heard. Jesus could identify with all of her pain.
Jesus had been a refugee.
(from The Long Highway Home, c2016, Elizabeth Musser)
I so hope you are able to enjoy this story and do want to remind you that there’s also a great pre-order special going on with my publisher for The Promised Land. Not only is the novel available at 40% reduced price but those who pre-order will get a signed bookplate. It’s been thrilling to receive photos of readers who have already gotten their signed copies!
I’m praying for all of us during this tense time in our country and our world. Dear readers, may we be light shining in darkness! And will you please pray that the hope of Jesus that is wrapped up in each of my novels will penetrate the minds and hearts and souls of all who read them? Thank you so much and Blessings!
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and her blog.
Precious Lord, Sometimes the heaviness of 2020 seems unbearable. So today, I want to simply rest in Your abundant love for me, remembering these words from Zephaniah 3: 16-17
“Do not fear, Zion;
do not let your hands hang limp.
The Lord your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.” (NIV)
The NASB version replaces ‘singing’ with ‘ shouts of joy.’
And even as I read these words, a smile comes across my lips. I can easily picture a father delighting in his children and rejoicing over them with shouts of joy because I have these sweet memories engraved in my mind and captured on film:
Thank You, Holy God, for also being my Loving Heavenly Father. Thank You for the love we can share with our earthly children, and for how that love can tune our hearts toward You and Your never-ending love for us.
What is one of your favorite verses about the Lord’s love that encourages you in the midst of these dark times?
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and her blog.
Elizabeth Musser 