Just orange embers light up the black sky outlining the houses.  Closer view reveals the muted rainbow rising across the horizon. All is still as the majesty of dawn lifts.

All this is for you my friends. Glory upon glory goes with the hope of our Lord and the artistry of our Father.

The sun reigns down in glory through the clouds, with perfectly aligned rays slowly dancing like a chorus line across the sky. A bird takes flight and glides, wings spread, freely over the majesty of the scenery as if all created for him.  Oh that we would move about Gods creation as it was intended--soaring securely through the spacious gift of provision designed in love with an eternal eye.

A lone, young cat walks along the curb across the street, darts its head around-and then again, and hops onto the walk in front of his home. He keeps moving, and when reaching the lawn, races freely down the grassy hill.

Nearby, a flock of birds land in synchronicity upon the top of the tree, with all of the energy of the new day beginning.

This activity seems life in action, determined and intentional, but where and why only they know. We just watch. Oh that our lives were as free and energized as theirs.  Their purpose is now, focus is here, and the day holds adventure for which they have no worry.

 Today, run, sing, dance, fly in the freedom of the morning!  Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom-
Because that is home.

Morning is rising. The colors of the sky paint renewed hope into the spirit as blue melts into a burst of gold warming the day. There is something about the sky, this palette of Gods, that paints possibility. While seeming a ceiling, it's endless quality speaks of eternity. The day below, mundane at times, is lifted with the eyes. We are never without possibility, even holed up inside--the sky is always there. Find a window.

Through a dirty window, the brilliant sun gleams, lighting up millions of specks of what we call dust and dirt and plan to wash away. Yet for the moment, the richness and complexity of life live in those specks of varying size, shape, thickness, and composition. They remind that there is so much magnificent complexity and intricacy to this life and the genius behind it. Even that which we wipe away holds universes of creation. We would be wise to put down our analysis for a moment and let our awe linger. It will keep perspective, as we move toward solving our next problem.

The rain is pounding on the black street, filling it with wide puddles; a stream running alongside the curb. Trash awaiting pick up under the tree, sagging in the water blown on to it. Where is the light? But dawn rises in the gray sky, as treetops sway in the autumn wind.  Meaning is hiding, until waterlogged gratitude lifts its head. The trees drink, the reservoirs fill, the flowers still holding on from summer nod approvingly in the breeze. Wind and rain are forces we turn our heads from. Yet these provisions keep safe the "taken for granted" on our tables and in our scope of beauty. From inside I see its value. When I'm standing in it, I just long to get away and take cover. Life's rain and wind--can they too be a form of Gods provision?

The flat pink planes with golden hue stretch across the far portion of the sky like a promise in the distance waiting for its time. To their left, a bright golden light permeates the white clouds now in the spotlight.  Timing is the word the sky is speaking.  Here and now, coming soon, bending toward that which is hoped for. We move about in the pace of the world while our lives are drafted in the timing of the Lord. Promises that hold a place will come when ready and given the nod from God. All the beauty, all the plans, all the hopes have a perfectly timed purpose. We wait, we wonder, we worry.   Love paints the sky for response, until His promises prevail.

The defused spray over the roses saturates the ground for growth and showers the thirsty petals. However, to the roses it appears like a storm with billows of rain unceasing flowing over their heads. It reminds of how we feel when God allows the rains in our lives. Whether a literal storm, or personal trial, it's producing growth, strengthening our foundations, and lavishing nurture on us that we need; all the while seeming like an unrelenting disturbance, chaos or worse. There are times we can't see through the rain clearly to the purposes for which they come. That storm we are running from may just be the sustenance we need to keep growing.

When the mind needs to rest
Let it rest on you Lord.
May my spirit surpass my brain and sing praises to you without intention
May my soul be lifted up in spirited refreshment from the simple joy of opening to you. No control, no agenda, no concern, no disappointment. Just open to the winds of your Spirit blowing gently through me. You being you, while I am me, plus nothing--is everything.
Trying too hard is the condition of the mighty missing Grace.
Can we let go; can we forget, and just face the Son, with nothing else to prove?

Isn't this what God really means when He says to come to Him, all who are weary; and where the Psalmist exhorts us to cast our burdens on Him? Being.  With Him. And He will give you rest...

How can anyone look at nature-- the great expanse of blue with a ledge of clouds gilded in gold, and the sun shining rays in all directions awakening all around it-- and not want to know the God who created it; not want to be close to this master of beauty, and mercy; to not want to worship with your spirit the presence of peace that stands behind it all?

In the small green leaf amidst the cluster along the tree top, is a minute universe of detail that lives attached to the rest of the world we see--the stem to the branch, the branch to the trunk, the trunk to the soil the soil to layers of minerals that extend to other elements, that touch all other trees and growth, that touch the atmosphere, that connects us by gases to other galaxies and more. Oneness is not hard to find as we are all connected--physically not just spiritually. Nothing is separate, and God encompasses all, permeates all, and brings life to all.

What do you think?

Getting Unstuck

The mind can land in the place of endings and remain stuck there. Usually, as change that was not planned or even desired rolls in, the losses and endings of it can dominate thinking and close off the opening to hope. It's a colossal causality if we allow it to rule our thoughts. For a season, sadness will prevail and it must, because we cannot force our deepest emotions into a straight jacket, or deny the pain that will simply find a different route into our lives if we ignore it. But let's not give it a rose and commit to it.
Life is waiting, holding promises not yet grasped ; and inviting activity with more purpose than filling the day or passing the hours. Meaninglessness can whisk us away unless we override it with renewed faith. Everything said or done in love, hope, or faith is an investment in the future lives of all. Seek the meaning in the tiniest moves you make and the picture God desires you to see will begin to form. Endings happen. Beginnings emerge. But meaning is found in between the sheets of these two, in quiet and purposeful moments of remembering, being and offering even the simplest forms of Love.

The line of full foliage trees on the horizon appear as a protective hedgerow preaching the security surrounding me. The scripture “neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans‬ ‭8:39‬‬‬) comes into my mind. There may be worries in this life but the presence of God--our Love and Savior--never disappears or dissipates. His protection, though not always obvious to us in our limited view, is surrounding the finite edges of our lives, and welcoming in the infinite.  He is, and He will.

Love and approval--what we seek the most in life if we distill it down--are found in God.  The Father expressed "this is my son, with him I am well pleased"about Jesus when he arose from the baptismal water. Jesus later refers to those who believe in Him as one with Him, as he is with the Father. If we are one with Him, we too are loved by the Father and He is well pleased with us, by virtue of being with Jesus--plus nothing else. Our deepest emotional, social, and spiritual needs are met as soon as we accept oneness with our best friend and savior, Jesus.

What would be possible in your life if you truly accepted and believed this truth?

Above, a washed out sky, nothing remarkable. In the bland gray stillness of the morning the gradual sunrise is only noted by the slowly growing ability to see what was hidden in darkness. There is no burst of orange today peeking over the treetops or brilliant clouds announcing the sun. It's a quiet morning, not a movement in the trees. Suddenly the birds are racing across the sky, tens of them at a time, all speeding in the same direction. What do they see? What do they know?
It's a morning much like I imagine the first Easter:  Nothing remarkable; calm, trauma passing, stillness notable. Then, Mary and her companions walk up to the tomb to see the stone moved. Shock, fear, worry and confusion race through them. Something has happened. A tiny hope flashes in Mary's heart and then is pushed away by reason. Until...

My heart's on you today Jesus, heavy and contemplative. I cannot walk through the details too keenly any more than I do difficult times in my life that were not nearly as overtly tragic as this.  I prefer to look away. But momentarily you say, look.  There is no tragedy. There is a love that, other than your name, is found nowhere else. You freed me at your expense, and then proved your true power that this world cannot hold you, by revealing yourself.  All this to say you are coming back for me. The hundreds of millions of me who await their best friend and savior. Our spirits witness, and the supernatural over shadows the natural, as we know, even in our finite minds, that matter lives on infinitely. There is a promise of more from the most faithful of all. You want us with you in it. I say yes.

Layers of gray cotton line the morning sky. A richer blue holds the horizon.  A quiet calm lies across the  scene, trees erect with immeasurable movement.
Days of decision. Who decides? Do we wait and see, or do we trust and know. The choice is ours. I cannot define whether the sky will hang in gray tones or burst with bright blue. But I can hold the hand in my heart who already knows the sky's formations throughout history, and let Him design.