walk on

Sometimes walking is hard.

And I prefer to wallow instead of walk. Wallowing is easier; it doesn't really require effort from my end. I just float. But with each passing minute, I'm actually sinking deeper into the murkiness, making it that much harder to climb out of it.

It takes a conscious effort, a decision, to walk instead of wallow. To press on when I want to just sit. To move forward when all I want to do is keep things the way they are. To take another step when my foot feels too heavy to lift.

If I'm hoping in Him, I won't grow tired in my walking. My endurance is fueled by my hope in Him. So when I am feeling walk-weary, I need to check my hope tank. When it's running low, I need to remind myself: Put your hope in God.

I'm wrestling with that concept as I try to figure out what that really means. Telling myself to hope in God doesn't seem sufficient to actually make it happen. It helps, and it serves as a challenging reminder. But that can't be it.

How do I build up hope that's diminished? I don't have the answer. But I need to do what I know: Remind myself. Ask God for help to hope. Chew on passages that describe His character. Be strengthened through the encouragement of others. Take time for a selah.

When I hope in Him, I won't be disappointed. And I can't settle for wallowing. When I hope in Him, I can't help but walk.

Put your hope in God and walk on. I'm right beside you.

four-minute friday: empty bottle

Go. I did something I've always wanted to do. I consumed something in the grocery store before I paid for it.

I've always had a strange mix of feelings when seeing someone eat a candy bar or drink a Coke before checking out. My self-righteousness flares up with thoughts like How dare she? and Who does he think he is? Yet, if I'm honest, deep down I'm green with envy. I wish I had the guts to do that.

I was perusing the aisles, pushing my cart. I was thirsty, so I grabbed a bottle of sparking water and figured I'd drink it when I was done shopping. And then I just decided, in that instant, to drink it right then and there.

As I unscrewed the cap, the infamous first-fizz noise of carbonated beverages made me chuckle. With dodgey eyes, trying to see if anyone was watching, I took a quick sip. I laughed to myself as I resumed shopping.

When I got to the checkout, I handed the woman my empty bottle for her to ring up. There. I did it. It was a rather liberating experience.

Done.

morning prayer

I love reading Psalms because I absolutely love how David poured out his heart before God. He wasn't ashamed or afraid to vent how he was feeling, even when much of it would be considered sacrilegious. David prayed filterlessly. (Yes, I just made up a word.) I filter my prayers all-too-often.

As I was reading in Psalms last night, I paused when I came to a simple 8-word prayer that David prayed. I read it over and over, and then prayed it for myself.

Say to my soul, "I am your salvation."

My soul needs to hear that and believe it.

What would happen if my soul truly hears and believes that? I am strengthened. I have hope. I am not alone (and I know it). I feel loved, unconditionally. There is light in my tomorrow. I have a hand to hold. I have peace. I even have joy. I am amazed.

So God... Again this morning, say to my soul, "I am your salvation." I will listen and believe.

four-minute friday: ostriches

Go.

There are two ostriches outside my office. One keeps knocking on the door. (I'm serious!) The other is staring intently at me through the window next to my desk. Hello, lovely ladies.

She has intriguing eyes. Have you ever seen an ostrich blink? It's very...interesting. Mildly gross, even. But her eyes are larger than life, and her eyelashes are Maybelline perfect.

I wonder why they're staying here; they've been here for hours already. Occasionally, they walk back to the grass to eat a bit, and then they stroll back over. They clean their feathers, strut their stuff, and knock on the glass. I wonder what -- if anything -- is going through their walnut-sized brains. (Did you know their brains are smaller than their eyeballs? Now how's that for a Snapple fact!?)

If nothing else, it's making my day in the office more exciting than it normally would have been. I've got a song on repeat and am ready to crack down on a big project. Thanks for keeping me company, ladies.

Done.

simple truth

(I wrote this on Christmas, but since we’ve been internet-less for a few days, I’m posting this a bit late…)

It’s only Christmas because my calendar says so. It doesn’t feel like Christmas. And not just because I’m in Africa, and it’s summer. This year, Christmas just feels…distant. Maybe it’s not so much that it doesn’t feel like Christmas, but that I don’t feel like Christmas. That makes sense inside my brain; I’m not so sure it does outside of it.

But I’m thinking about Christmas, since my calendar reminded me and all. And the thing that keeps skating around my thoughts is this: There is always redemption. I think God had that in mind on the very first Christmas, and He has it on His mind on this one.

I need to remind and be reminded of that simple truth often.

Months ago, I read something that is so simple and yet so powerful. The Hebrew word shalom (peace) literally means nothing missing, nothing broken. And the word shalim (restore) means as if it never happened. There is such hope, such promise in those words.

Nothing missing. Nothing broken. As if it never happened.

There is always redemption.

Merry Christmas, friends.