mercies new i knew

your mercies are new every morning
fresh as a morning breeze
as real as the wind i can only feel but never touch
your mercies i knew

forgiveness, hope, healing
along with mercies
a cup of cool water rushing to wash away my fears
your mercies i knew

strength to leave the past behind
hope to begin to see a bright tomorrow
a breath of fresh air and a pool of peace to swim in
your mercies i knew

faith to put on my eyes to see
that the darkness cannot exist along with the light
and desperation for you and who you are is better than despair
your mercies i knew

trust to firmly take your hand and walk
beyond the shadows and the lies
the things i once believed to be true, are exposed in you
your mercies, i knew, i know

whispering a gentle “be still”
holding my heart in the palm of your hand
rushing toward me and wiping my tears away
your mercies, i now know

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holy moments

Each day, I find myself surrounded by holy moments.  Not because I work at a church.  Actually I think that’s the opposite reason I experience these moments.  It’s in working out things.  Talking to people.  Expressing pain.  Expressing beauty.  Expressing love, care and concern in whatever way I can.

I love passing along verses to people.  Especially lately verses that have been so convicting in my own heart and life, I just know I have to share them with others because they’ve impacted me so greatly.  I don’t do it to tell them they need to change, I just throw it out there, because I know it’s changed me.

I experience God in many ways, one of them is in running.  Another is in creation and the beauty of all that is around me.  And another, just as of lately, has been in people.  Now I don’t consider myself a total “people person”, but lately there have been many precious conversations that have caused me to just gently be reminded that God is here.  With me.  Holding my hand.  Wiping my tears. Giving me dreams again.  He’s here.  He uses other people to sometimes show me things I’ve never thought of before.

Holy moments.

Lately I’ve been taking prayer walks.  During the day, especially since it’s been so nice lately.  Walking around the apartments near the church and just praying fervently.  That our church would learn and see how to have compassion and love for these people… these broken people who are so different from us.  Who live with their boyfriends or girlfriends, who have many children.  Who have many tattoos.  Who smell bad.  Who cuss us out.  Who want nothing to do with church.  GOD… how can we love these people????  Our church has been put in this location for a reason.  Why are we not broken over wanting to see these people in church and praying for their salvation?

When I read the gospels, I see this picture of Jesus and I wonder… what would he do, now?  What would he think of our high walls, gates, and beautiful clothing?  What would he think that we are shutting the world out of our “holy” place?

Met with a friend yesterday who goes with a group of people to narcotics anonymous weekly.  She said that meeting is more spiritual to her than any other church service she’s been to.  Because it’s real.

Holy moments.

They are all around us.

In a smile, a warm touch, a friend, an enemy, in working through our bitterness.

Embracing the holy moments.

forward.

pacing.  walking.  turning.  breathing.
sleep.  wake.  eat.  breathe.
repeat.
and repeat again.
and just keep going.
keep on running.

almost there.  almost past it.  almost back to the beginning.
then i’m one step behind where i thought i was.
just keep going.  you’re almost there.  one more step.
will i ever be there?  will it ever be over?

will the sting ever really go away?  without it just being masked?
can a small piece of scotch tape really fix what stitches, or surgery should fix?
can the pain ever be taken away by a temporary fix?
momentary distraction?

a rush of cool water.  to make the blood wash away.
a disinfectant.  hurts.  yet can heal.
a binding bandage.  thick enough to cover it.
stop touching it.  stop picking at it.
let it heal.
but sometimes, i just can’t.

washed in the water.  cleansed by the blood.
already.
a long time ago.
washed and cleansed.
FORGIVEN.
HEALED.

but sometimes i relive the pain.  to know the experience was real.
to remember i’m real.
to recount what might have been my fault.
to second guess.

stop picking at it.
LET IT HEAL.

and just keep running.
toward the goal.
the heavenly prize.

forward.  move forward.

back

I feel like I’m in a daze.  We returned this morning around 7 a.m. to the school, after traveling all day and night Friday.  Once I stepped foot into the house, I immediately jumped in the shower.  There’s nothing like taking a long, hot shower after traveling for a long time…

Took a 3 hour nap, now I’m just laying here in bed with many thoughts, and not quite feeling totally myself.

I learned so much on this second trip to Nicaragua.  God had a few divine appointments and conversations for me during the trip. I know that.  He’s been offering bucketfuls of healing and hope to my heart.  It’s comforting.  I pray it will continue.

wounds, scars, and healing

I ran across this excerpt this morning, and thought I’d share it you all… hope you all have a great weekend!

FROM LONG EXPERIENCE of working with various traumas, I have come to believe that with a commitment to hard work and prayer, even the worst is healable. I don’t mean that a deeply wounded person will somehow be able to just go on with life as if the wounding never occurred. Scars can be redeemed and turned into gifts, becoming a source of wisdom, love, and even joy that can be tapped to help others. Again and again I have seen this happen as hurting people experience the healing of Christ. A deeply wounded, profoundly healed person is like a tree that has grown around a boulder; sometimes the tree actually incorporates the boulder into its structure. A boulder tree is especially beautiful and becomes an inspiration to those still struggling to grow around their own obstacles.

– Tilda Norberg
Gathered Together: Creating Personal Liturgies for Healing and Transformation