Tonight, all is silent except for the swelling swishes of trees in a quickly approaching storm. Thunder begins to catch up with the lightning. Soon, there will be rain in the darkness.       My house is cloaked with night. I read, in the gold chair, under the light of one bulb, Darkness and light are alike to You.   I can see nothing outside the windows, in the dark, until the lightning blinks on again. Yet, He sees everything outside, everything inside. He sees down to the places in my heart that not even I can see.   I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and...

I lean forward, Lord.       I wait eagerly for sunrise, for You— to see the face of Truth rising in love over my cloudy horizon.   I wait in stillness like the grass, at peace with the dew, with the shades of darkness that will not remain in daylight, at rest beside the mountains of mystery I cannot understand.   I wait in fullness, my heart open like the blooms of summer zinnias, holding nothing back.   I wait in reverence with the trees, with nothing to boast of except for the One who made me as I am, in His image.   I lean forward to see You, to know You, and to...

No sooner had I sat down cross-legged on the floor when a three-year-old girl in a floral summer dress plunked herself down into my lap and leaned back against me.     We were at the preschool children’s worship time on Sunday morning. I filled in as a teacher that week, and little Claire had met me for the first time only moments before. But, child that she is, Claire felt the need for the security and reassurance that an adult provides, and she trustingly sought them in me.   I thought of Claire this morning as I read through my devotional journal. It reflects this season in which I...

Father,   The dust chokes me, stifles my breath.   In the lethargy of heat I’ve grown weary: Vigilance receding like water from the creek’s edge. Alertness fading like porch cushions exposed to sun.   Father, forgive me.   O Son who thirsted on the cross that I might drink Living Water,   refill the empty wells of my heart.   Lead me to times of refreshment in the Spirit’s presence, to the sparkling, still waters where Your words are clear and healing. O God who supplies in all seasons, I look to You who restores my soul, who makes me flourish in the wilderness. Cover me...

The grass is dry as hay, the flowers wilting in record-breaking heat. Where I live, we haven’t had rain in at least a month.     That’s why my friend was so disappointed when she told me about the dark clouds and lightning that failed to produce rain one day last week while I was out of town.   But that’s not the only reason she felt disappointed.   The incident, she said, felt like an analogy for her current single season. Just when she thinks the conditions seem right for God to bring a man into her life, nothing happens.   At times, I’ve felt that way myself. Perhaps you...

Iona.     So much wrapped up in one word: Turquoise and cobalt blue waters sparkling against a green island. Ancient monks and their monasteries. The Book of Kells. Christianity and beauty.   And music.   Last night I got to see the band whose music weaves together the mystery of foreign soil and spiritual history, the resplendence of nature and the heart’s hunger for it all in the present moment.   The timing was perfect, because my spirit was thirsty.   I needed everything they offered. Lead singer Jo’s sweet smile and refreshing-as-a-spring voice. Lyrics expressing the...