Hear the word of the Lord:
1 Kings 17:8-16
Then the word of the LORD came to him, saying, "Go now to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you."
So he set out and went to Zarephath. When he came to the gate of the town, a widow was there gathering sticks; he called to her and said, "Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink." As she was going to bring it, he called to her and said, "Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand."
But she said, "As the LORD your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die."
Elijah said to her, "Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the LORD the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the LORD sends rain on the earth."
She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days.
The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the LORD that he spoke by Elijah.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Move your hand this way ...
A prayer from Leaving Ruin:
Dear God,
Meekness is beyond me today, and I cannot pretend. Pain on every inch of skin makes me swell and pitch, like the ocean, and I curse the gods inside that want to take me from you, who want to take up residence in your hall, in your place. God, my neck hurts, and my back, and my mind, and my foot, and I am so mad—just so mad. Forgive my rage, and my curses. My mouth can’t be tamed today, unless you do it, so please move your hand this way, and thank you for dogs and good friends, and new faces, pregnant with hope, and protect their innocence, Lord, their naïve belief that all will be well when it seems like it won’t all be well at all. Speak in me, through me, and kill the rebel, kill the demon inside, so that I may one day find what it means to stand before you, meek, and loved.
In Jesus,
Amen
In my imperfection and desire to fix that, I wonder what it would be like to stand before God without any barriers. I have never even been able to imagine that fully. I even imagine that there would be the feeling of guilt in Heaven sometimes. I cannot cast off my humanness even in thinking of that. Reading this book and The Shack have helped, but I continue to have barriers. I continue to feel the need to enter the throne room with my stuff as a wall.
One of the most meek people I have known is one that I would call tough-as-nails on the inside. She loves people as if she has never experienced a hurt. Yet her childhood was very challenging and she has experienced several hardships as an adult. Rather than close herself off, she has used her experience to help others. Such an example she is to many young adults!
I pray you hang on to love, to the love of dogs and good friends. May you have the courage to allow naïve belief and innocence into your relationship with God and His kids.
Shiann
Dear God,
Meekness is beyond me today, and I cannot pretend. Pain on every inch of skin makes me swell and pitch, like the ocean, and I curse the gods inside that want to take me from you, who want to take up residence in your hall, in your place. God, my neck hurts, and my back, and my mind, and my foot, and I am so mad—just so mad. Forgive my rage, and my curses. My mouth can’t be tamed today, unless you do it, so please move your hand this way, and thank you for dogs and good friends, and new faces, pregnant with hope, and protect their innocence, Lord, their naïve belief that all will be well when it seems like it won’t all be well at all. Speak in me, through me, and kill the rebel, kill the demon inside, so that I may one day find what it means to stand before you, meek, and loved.
In Jesus,
Amen
In my imperfection and desire to fix that, I wonder what it would be like to stand before God without any barriers. I have never even been able to imagine that fully. I even imagine that there would be the feeling of guilt in Heaven sometimes. I cannot cast off my humanness even in thinking of that. Reading this book and The Shack have helped, but I continue to have barriers. I continue to feel the need to enter the throne room with my stuff as a wall.
One of the most meek people I have known is one that I would call tough-as-nails on the inside. She loves people as if she has never experienced a hurt. Yet her childhood was very challenging and she has experienced several hardships as an adult. Rather than close herself off, she has used her experience to help others. Such an example she is to many young adults!
I pray you hang on to love, to the love of dogs and good friends. May you have the courage to allow naïve belief and innocence into your relationship with God and His kids.
Shiann
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Poor in spirit ...
Another prayer from Leaving Ruin:
Poor in Spirit confuses us, and your Son is raking our imaginations with his greatness, and if I see your face I will die, and I must see your face or I will die. Come to us, Lord, gently, and teach, and set us right, and shield us from looking too hard into the core of sin that is too, too much to bear, perhaps even for a God.
Who are the poor in spirit? And how are they blessed? If we understand this Jesus on the mountain, there is a terrible comfort for us, or is it a comforting terror, because there is mystery here, but let us not hide from its simplicity. Reduce us, Lord, let us be as those who do not sow or reap, but who know you will sustain, support, and save.
If I come to the mountain to sit at his feet, let me listen. Strip distraction, and help me hold each thought, each word, each wisdom as tightly as light holds the day, though my breakfast was not what I wanted, and I hate the grime under my fingernails. I long for the blessing of Jesus, but, too often, I’d rather have what I’d rather have.
I am not poor in spirit, but I long to be. Forgive, and make again.
In the name of Jesus,
Amen
What would life look like if we were to let God handle it, all of it?
What would our schedules look like if we truly trusted God to provide?
The Beatitudes are beautiful in their simplicity and complexity. To read them in such a way as to hear the Messiah speaking them to you is deep and lovely and the climate for change on every level. Let’s listen to Him (from the ERV:
Great blessings belong to those who know they are spiritually in need.
God’s kingdom belongs to them.
Great blessings belong to those who are sad now.
God will comfort them.
Great blessings belong to those who are humble.
They will be given the land God promised.
Great blessings belong to those who want to do right
more than anything else. God will fully satisfy them.
Great blessings belong to those who show mercy to others.
Mercy will be given to them.
Great blessings belong o those whose thoughts are pure.
They will be with God.
Great blessings belong to those who work to bring peace.
God will call them his sons and daughters.
Great blessings belong to those who suffer persecution
for doing what is right. God’s kingdom belongs to them.
This list contains aspects of life that happen to a person and some that one chooses. However, the blessing comes in what one does with what happens. I pray you have the courage in the Kingdom to be humble, do right, work to bring peace, etc. May we encourage each other as we do these ourselves.
Blessings,
Shiann
Poor in Spirit confuses us, and your Son is raking our imaginations with his greatness, and if I see your face I will die, and I must see your face or I will die. Come to us, Lord, gently, and teach, and set us right, and shield us from looking too hard into the core of sin that is too, too much to bear, perhaps even for a God.
Who are the poor in spirit? And how are they blessed? If we understand this Jesus on the mountain, there is a terrible comfort for us, or is it a comforting terror, because there is mystery here, but let us not hide from its simplicity. Reduce us, Lord, let us be as those who do not sow or reap, but who know you will sustain, support, and save.
If I come to the mountain to sit at his feet, let me listen. Strip distraction, and help me hold each thought, each word, each wisdom as tightly as light holds the day, though my breakfast was not what I wanted, and I hate the grime under my fingernails. I long for the blessing of Jesus, but, too often, I’d rather have what I’d rather have.
I am not poor in spirit, but I long to be. Forgive, and make again.
In the name of Jesus,
Amen
What would life look like if we were to let God handle it, all of it?
What would our schedules look like if we truly trusted God to provide?
The Beatitudes are beautiful in their simplicity and complexity. To read them in such a way as to hear the Messiah speaking them to you is deep and lovely and the climate for change on every level. Let’s listen to Him (from the ERV:
Great blessings belong to those who know they are spiritually in need.
God’s kingdom belongs to them.
Great blessings belong to those who are sad now.
God will comfort them.
Great blessings belong to those who are humble.
They will be given the land God promised.
Great blessings belong to those who want to do right
more than anything else. God will fully satisfy them.
Great blessings belong to those who show mercy to others.
Mercy will be given to them.
Great blessings belong o those whose thoughts are pure.
They will be with God.
Great blessings belong to those who work to bring peace.
God will call them his sons and daughters.
Great blessings belong to those who suffer persecution
for doing what is right. God’s kingdom belongs to them.
This list contains aspects of life that happen to a person and some that one chooses. However, the blessing comes in what one does with what happens. I pray you have the courage in the Kingdom to be humble, do right, work to bring peace, etc. May we encourage each other as we do these ourselves.
Blessings,
Shiann
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Mourning is heavy ...
Another prayer from Leaving Ruin:
Mourning is heavy, and I don’t want to carry this load anymore Why be born, why lift the bother of living, it’s just going to hurt mostly, and even the best of moments are stained, and my children have to see it, and learn it, and learn to go on in spite of it?
I know this is darkness talking, that you indeed are light, and joy, and hope, and that in this paradox, there is a mystery called faith being revealed. The sun always rises with or without the bother of living from another shoulder, let me walk there, and as I mourn, comfort me. Let your comfort flow through me like a fount, running over the tired feet of friends, and may we speak comfort when we stand in the hall and talk.
Bless our secret lives, and may we love your ways, and not our own.
In Jesus,
Amen
Thanks be to God that He continues to be Himself no matter what I do or think or feel. He is here when those around me hurt and He hurts alongside us all. Faith, it is a mystery. Perhaps what was to be revealed is as is discussed in Colossians; “To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Perhaps this encompasses faith as well. The mystery is not just Christ, but that we live our lives believing in Him, even when it doesn't make logical sense, even without a shred of physical evidence.
Christ is the vessel for healing and hope and joy, which is healing in-and-of-itself.
In the process of writing this, I am praying that God will comfort you and heal you in your mourning.
I pray you will not think your mourning insignificant, but give it room to express itself.
I pray that you will complete your mourning and not have it live forever, but allow the Light of Christ into our hurt.
I pray that you will allow your healing to spill into the lives of others and help provide healing to them as well.
With love and prayers,
Shiann
Mourning is heavy, and I don’t want to carry this load anymore Why be born, why lift the bother of living, it’s just going to hurt mostly, and even the best of moments are stained, and my children have to see it, and learn it, and learn to go on in spite of it?
I know this is darkness talking, that you indeed are light, and joy, and hope, and that in this paradox, there is a mystery called faith being revealed. The sun always rises with or without the bother of living from another shoulder, let me walk there, and as I mourn, comfort me. Let your comfort flow through me like a fount, running over the tired feet of friends, and may we speak comfort when we stand in the hall and talk.
Bless our secret lives, and may we love your ways, and not our own.
In Jesus,
Amen
Thanks be to God that He continues to be Himself no matter what I do or think or feel. He is here when those around me hurt and He hurts alongside us all. Faith, it is a mystery. Perhaps what was to be revealed is as is discussed in Colossians; “To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Perhaps this encompasses faith as well. The mystery is not just Christ, but that we live our lives believing in Him, even when it doesn't make logical sense, even without a shred of physical evidence.
Christ is the vessel for healing and hope and joy, which is healing in-and-of-itself.
In the process of writing this, I am praying that God will comfort you and heal you in your mourning.
I pray you will not think your mourning insignificant, but give it room to express itself.
I pray that you will complete your mourning and not have it live forever, but allow the Light of Christ into our hurt.
I pray that you will allow your healing to spill into the lives of others and help provide healing to them as well.
With love and prayers,
Shiann
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Empty pots of pride ...
Another prayer from Leaving Ruin:
We sit, and wait for your words. Carve the words into us, Lord, let us know your words as we know the heat of the desert, in our pores, and don’t forget to give us water when we forget to take a drink. We are foolish, we know. But we want to listen, we want to walk on the mountain with you, but we are stuck down below, and our hands cannot reach high. Will we hear you today, O God, or will we only talk to hear our heads rattle, empty pots of pride and boasting? Speak, Maker, and with a God war-hammer break the stern fortress, and march around our stupidity and rage seven days, and blow trumpets and shout, so that we might fall to a gentler rule.
I wish you were here to speak.
Walk among us. Amen
This prayer brings to mind the words of a song we sing at times (I think I may have mixed up the lyrics, if so, I am sorry).
Break my heart, dear Lord.
Tear the barriers down.
Show me, Father where to start
And gently break my heart.
My heart is hard, my soul so weak.
The ways of evil cut so deep
I need you, Lord, to come inside
And gently break my heart.
To learn from our mistakes.
To see that resources are right in front of us for our pain.
To be more aware next time.
To be ready for God’s work on us and not forget to go to Him as the well.
I pray, as I write this, that we would be able and willing to move from the gutter and trash and look up for God to help us. That we may see the bigger beauty in the mess. That we may be able to reach for hope even in the darkest time. That we may have the courage to not dwell on our time as a victim but to dwell on our victory.
Shiann
We sit, and wait for your words. Carve the words into us, Lord, let us know your words as we know the heat of the desert, in our pores, and don’t forget to give us water when we forget to take a drink. We are foolish, we know. But we want to listen, we want to walk on the mountain with you, but we are stuck down below, and our hands cannot reach high. Will we hear you today, O God, or will we only talk to hear our heads rattle, empty pots of pride and boasting? Speak, Maker, and with a God war-hammer break the stern fortress, and march around our stupidity and rage seven days, and blow trumpets and shout, so that we might fall to a gentler rule.
I wish you were here to speak.
Walk among us. Amen
This prayer brings to mind the words of a song we sing at times (I think I may have mixed up the lyrics, if so, I am sorry).
Break my heart, dear Lord.
Tear the barriers down.
Show me, Father where to start
And gently break my heart.
My heart is hard, my soul so weak.
The ways of evil cut so deep
I need you, Lord, to come inside
And gently break my heart.
To learn from our mistakes.
To see that resources are right in front of us for our pain.
To be more aware next time.
To be ready for God’s work on us and not forget to go to Him as the well.
I pray, as I write this, that we would be able and willing to move from the gutter and trash and look up for God to help us. That we may see the bigger beauty in the mess. That we may be able to reach for hope even in the darkest time. That we may have the courage to not dwell on our time as a victim but to dwell on our victory.
Shiann
Monday, November 9, 2009
Like barely hanging on ...
Today’s devotional is from Shiann’s pen:
Leaving Ruin is a book by Jeff Berryman. It is a novel narrated by a preacher who has lived and ministered in a West Texas town, not much different from our Hollis. Here is a description from the back of the book: “His life, much like the surrounding plains, looks bleak—strained relationships at home, ineffective ministry, and a congregation that no longer wants him. Hoping to hear a word from God, he gets little more than the occasional headache and the silence of a near-dead wind…he is horrified and amazed to discover that his life may not turn out at all like he’d planned.”
His prayers in this book exhibit his soul-hunger and are frequently haunting. I found myself unable to put the book down at times because I really understood his pain. The prayers are frequently odd and may be at times, and on the surface, irreverent.
Dear God,
You are holy and great, I know, but I don’t feel it much tonight. The written words of Jesus are old, and good, and He is still here, I know, but I need a new word, somehow, new like your mercies each morning, and on nights like tonight, days like today, I long to know your presence like I know the taste of sweet bread in my mouth, like I knew Beethoven’s Ninth, with clarity and power, like the ringing of cathedral bells in this sanctuary called my life. Roll into me, O Lord, like a warm front coming down off the plains, and say my name.
Forgive me for the deep sin I keep. I have no goodness, no nothing, to offer.
Does triumph ever look like barely hanging on?
Show me Jesus walking among the people of the mountain, and Lord, I’d like to walk behind Him. My I listen as he speaks? Love as he loves? May I ever talk with him at the end of the day?
Thank you for the quiet…but feel free to break it anytime.
Give me your voice.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen
This prayer is rich with pain and hope and truth. Triumph can look like just barely hanging on until the moment that God makes something great out of our simple faithful endurance.
Today, may you have the courage to faithfully endure and wait on God’s voice and power.
Shiann
Leaving Ruin is a book by Jeff Berryman. It is a novel narrated by a preacher who has lived and ministered in a West Texas town, not much different from our Hollis. Here is a description from the back of the book: “His life, much like the surrounding plains, looks bleak—strained relationships at home, ineffective ministry, and a congregation that no longer wants him. Hoping to hear a word from God, he gets little more than the occasional headache and the silence of a near-dead wind…he is horrified and amazed to discover that his life may not turn out at all like he’d planned.”
His prayers in this book exhibit his soul-hunger and are frequently haunting. I found myself unable to put the book down at times because I really understood his pain. The prayers are frequently odd and may be at times, and on the surface, irreverent.
Dear God,
You are holy and great, I know, but I don’t feel it much tonight. The written words of Jesus are old, and good, and He is still here, I know, but I need a new word, somehow, new like your mercies each morning, and on nights like tonight, days like today, I long to know your presence like I know the taste of sweet bread in my mouth, like I knew Beethoven’s Ninth, with clarity and power, like the ringing of cathedral bells in this sanctuary called my life. Roll into me, O Lord, like a warm front coming down off the plains, and say my name.
Forgive me for the deep sin I keep. I have no goodness, no nothing, to offer.
Does triumph ever look like barely hanging on?
Show me Jesus walking among the people of the mountain, and Lord, I’d like to walk behind Him. My I listen as he speaks? Love as he loves? May I ever talk with him at the end of the day?
Thank you for the quiet…but feel free to break it anytime.
Give me your voice.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen
This prayer is rich with pain and hope and truth. Triumph can look like just barely hanging on until the moment that God makes something great out of our simple faithful endurance.
Today, may you have the courage to faithfully endure and wait on God’s voice and power.
Shiann
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