Balmy Reality.

It hit me.
More oppressively than this sticky September heat.
I felt my lungs tighten and my heart seize.
And this wasn’t just because I crested the top of a minimal incline whilst running.
It started building as I drove through the south side of town.
Another world altogether from the hipster-dom where I currently reside.
It came to a head as I jogged past two twenty-somethings on a walk.
I started my usual game: who were they? how do they know one another? where are they going? what do they do?
And that’s when it hit me.
Building slowly, subconsciously, under stoplights on hot pavement.
Coming to a head wondering the life story of a red head and a blonde walking down the street.

Fear.
Overwhelming, balmy fear.
The wholy-crap-how-am-I-ever-going-to-do-this-? fear.
The “this” that feels so heavy, isn’t even related to the new job I will start tomorrow.
The this is all of it.  Life.
What started building on my drive back from an airport drop-off was the realization of the state of things.
Reality in the city.  This city.
Families. And lack thereof. Heartbreak. Brokenness. Abandonment. Abuse. Neglect. Pennilessness. Hardship. Strife. Turmoil.
The how-can-I-see-and-hear-and-experience-and-process-all-of-this-and-try-to-do-something-about-it-while-the-weight-of-the-reality-that-I-can’t-even-scratch-the-surface-sinks-in-and-not-go-completely-crazy panic.

Then this refrain plays in my head and hangs on my wall:

So we do not lose heart.

The darkness in the world is heavy. Heavier still is that which is amiss in my own back yard.

Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart.

So we do not lose heart.

[2 Corinthians 4:1,16]

It would be easier to not engage. 

Easier  to drive seventy on the highway and miss the humanity.

Easier to not ask questions about the lives of others. Their state of being.

Keeping your eyes closed reduces fear. 

But we are not of those who shrink back. 

We have this ministry by the mercy of God.

So we do not lose heart.

[Hebrews  10:39]

I quickened my pace and set my jaw while this song coursed through my veins. 

Not because it’s full of truth or uplifting.

But because it’s aggressive.  Because it drives.

Because it makes me grit my teeth, batten down the hatches, and get after it.

It’s an amping-up-for-white-water kind of jam.

But I think I’m going to need to listen to it to keep my edge here too.  

On the sidewalks. In a concrete jungle. Facing the beauty and the chaos that a city engulfs you with.

So we do not lose heart...

Following the Cloud.

So it was always: the cloud covered it by day and the appearance of fire by night.  And whenever the cloud lifted from over the tent, after that the people of Israel set out, and in the place where the cloud settled down, there the people of Israel camped.  At the command of the LORD the people of Israel set out, and at the command of the LORD they camped.  As long as the cloud rested over the tabernacle, they remained in camp.  Even when the cloud continued over the tabernacle many days, that people of Israel kept the charge of the LORD and did not set out.  Sometimes the cloud was a few days over the tabernacle and according to the command of the LORD they remained in camp; then to the command of the LORD they set out. And sometimes the cloud remained from evening until morning.  And when the cloud lifted in the morning, they set out, or if it continued for a day and a night, when the cloud lifted they set out.  Whether it was two days, or a month, or a longer time, that the cloud continued over the tabernacle, abiding there, the people of Israel remained in camp and did not set out but when it lifted they set out.  At the command of the LORD they camped, and at the command of the LORD they set out.   [Number 9:16-23]

Where is my cloud?
That’s all I want to know.  I read this repetitive passage, finished, and sat there yearning for something this concrete to tell me when to go and when to stay.  When to remain in camp and when to set out.  It sounds so cut and dry for the Israelites.  They just had to obediently follow the cloud.
So where is my cloud?
I’d love for a cloud to hover around and direct my next decisions.

I was relaying all of this to my dear friend E. She looked over at me mid-stride and said, “You are the temple now.”

Well.
That changes things, eh?

So tabernacle means “residence” or “dwelling place”.  It’s where God lived.  Among the Israelites the tabernacle was the center.  The Holy of Holies.  And in the center of the center, only the High priest was allowed past the curtain into the inner tent where the Arc of the Covenant was held.

But this is what I forgot: we have a new covenant.

Now the point in what we are saying is this: we have such a high priest, one who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven, a minister in the holy places, in the true tent that the Lord set up, not man. [Heb. 8:1-2] 

Since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new a living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God...[Heb. 10:19-22]

The new temple is Jesus.  I’ve heard people say that Jesus is God “tabernacling” with us.  Dwelling with us.  I’ve also heard it said that God "moved into the neighborhood" when Jesus resided here on earth. He is our High Priest who enters into the Holy of Holies and opens the curtain.
Are you ready for the crazy part? Not only is Jesus now our High Priest and our tabernacle, He lives in us.  So essentially we too take on His identity!

          Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?

For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple. 

For we are the temple of the living God; as God said,
          I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them, I will be their God, and they shall be my people.

God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.  By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Sprit.  And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world.  Whoever confesses that Jesus ins the Son of God, God abides in him and he in God.            

[1 Cor. 3:16, 2 Cor. 6:16, 1 John 4:13-15]

The tabernacle is inside of me.  God dwells in me.  Resides with me.

Those statements hold so much weight.  I am nearly giddy with even scratching the surface of what this means and how this changes my life. How it changes me.
Part of what it means is that, the cloud I’ve been looking for isn’t hovering over God’s presence in a tent somewhere.  Because God’s presence is in me.
I am that temple.
The cloud is over me.  Maybe that realization is all I needed to find and follow.

Heal[e]d Pond.

Healing is a slow process.

I wrecked my knee. Perhaps a few times. Which has resulted in an inconclusive doctor’s appointment and walking around like a drunken pirate.  And I do a lot of walking around here, giving my co-workers and visiting strangers ample opportunities to point and laugh or ask me what happened.
I’ve been bracing.
I’ve been icing.
I’ve been eating ibuprofen for breakfast.
Or rather with breakfast, but that made me feel tougher and less like a ninny for nursing an unknown injury.
I’d just like it to heal.  Now.  Or more like yesterday.

I also sliced a portion of my finger nail off recently.  Tucking the fingertips is day one stuff.  [Unfortunately, I cycle back to day one more often than I’d like to admit.]  After this flub, my finger had a heartbeat. It hurt like the dickens.
I gritted my teeth and just squinted at it for a minute.
Then I slathered it with antibiotic ointment.
Bandaid-ed it.
And waited for it to heal.

There are things you can do to speed up the process.  Keep it clean.  Stay off it.  Wrap it. RICE it. Walk it off. Write it down. Find some place quiet.  Pick up the pieces.  Let someone else help you pick up the pieces. Talk it over. Shake it off.
But most importantly, just give it time.

This summer I’m living on Heald Pond.
Pronounced healed.
Despite my laundry list of injuries thus far, is this a coincidence?
I think not.

I stole this photo from the owner of the couch that I have been glued to all day.  

Many thanks Michelle for your photography and your home. And a million other things.

It’s Arduous and I Like It.

Arduous.

It’s my new word.

It’s fun to say.  Go ahead, try it.

ar·du·ous/ˈärjo͞oəs/

Simultaneously tough and intelligent sounding. 

I want arduous.  

That’s why I like hiking and camping and running.  Activities where you wonder, “Why in the world am I choosing to subject myself to this kind of pain?” at least once, maybe more.

But I know there is a reward.  

After clambering up bolders you get to see this...

...you then realize it was totally worth it.  [You also feel a little BA, which helps.]

And yet, I don’t want arduous.

The kind of arduous I’m okay with is strenuous physically.  Let’s be honest, my office-chair-butt needs it. 

It’s in the intangible tough that I’m content with a little jiggle. Wrangling my pride, taming my tongue or taking captive every thought leave my lungs heaving much harder than running hills.

But I know there is a reward.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. [james 1:2-4]

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him. [james 1:12]

For God is not so unjust as to overlook your work and the love that you showed for his sake in serving the saints as you still do.  And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises. [hebrews 6:10-11]

[And there are A LOT of promises.  I’d love to inherit a few.]  

I want to press on.  Persevere.  Rejoice in the burn.  Toil and strive.  And like it.  

For while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.   

The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance.   

For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe.  [1 timothy 4:8-10]

Now I’m at the end of this post feeling a little sheepish. 

After all that, I’m not totally sure I know how to get there.  Or do I?

Nine times out of ten physically pushing through something is actually a mental game.  In the fight to die to self and claim grace, it might just be mental too.  Choosing to set our hope.

set

   [set]  Show IPA verb, set, set·ting, noun,adjective, interjection

verb (used with object)

1.

to put (something or someone) in a particular place: to set a vase on a table.

2.

to place in a particular position or posture: Set the baby on his feet.

3.

to place in some relation to something or someone: We set a supervisor over the new workers.

4.

to put into some condition: to set a house on fire.

5.

to put or apply: to set fire to a house.

Place it. 

Posture it. 

Appoint it. 

Start it. 

Apply our hope not on less junk-in-our-trunk or a killer view at the peak, but to set our hope on the living God.  

Man, that packs a little more punch eh?  

The LIVING. GOD.  

It doesn’t make the arduous less arduous.  

But with a hope like that, the adrenaline starts pumping a little harder.

And the consistent, conscious choice to set, it might just get me over that next mountain.

Call It Like It Is.

I closed my eyes to better feel the drum beat reverberating in my chest.
The throng of voices resonating off the warehouse walls, hundreds of hearts vibrating to the same rhythm.

I smiled to myself as I thought of the quiet worship of last week. So different, both rich.
Rich also, the comforting smell of strong coffee, this time from the cups of friends on left and right.

Between the coffee, music, poignant sermon, and Eucharist, there was a whole bunch of awesome. But one thing in particular stuck with me.

A few words from Paul in the book of Acts.

“Yet he did not leave himself without witness, for he did good by giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, satisfying your hearts with food and gladness.”

He said this to the people of Lystra.  A people who named the Giver of Good with titles like Hermes and Zeus.

Yet he did not leave himself without witness.

This kept reverberating off the walls of my heart long after the music stopped.

It didn’t matter that they used names like Demeter or Apollo to give credit.  It didn’t matter that they were getting the name wrong.  At the end of the day; rain and bounty and satisfaction and joy came from I AM.

When I don’t have the language. The times I don’t take notice, He is still giving testament.  Witness of his love. His good-doing. He is forever giving evidence.

I took the dog for a walk to spend some time listening, desperate to hear.  Instead I found myself barking to stop the barking and hopelessly day dreaming.  [Which is where I usually find myself.  Not the barking, but the day dreaming part.]  I wasn’t hearing anything, my mind too busy running around frantic and starry eyed like the dog at the end of the leash.

Until, I saw it.
Witness.

Fresh green leaves.  Twisting in the breeze and evening sun.
There was one of those slow motion movie moments and I felt the vibration in my ribs.

Yet he did not leave himself without witness.

Even if I wouldn’t have seen it.  The Beauty would have still occurred.

It was by the kisses of my nephew and the heavy eyelids of my little niece.
It was across the sun lit sidewalk over a cup of peachy-tea with pen in hand.
It was in the sharing of vulnerable lessons and freckling cheeks.
It was on the beige table holding sandwiches and pickles and long overdue catching up.
It was through live melody and poems of hope and healing accompanied by guitar.
It was under huge maps and late night laughter in chairs and a purple couch.
It was God.
Bearing witness.

“Even with these words they [Paul and Barnabas] scarcely restrained the people from offering sacrifice to them."

After explaining that all the good was from The God, the Lyconians still attributed the miracles to the names of Hermes and Zeus.  They were given the language, given name.  And they missed it.

I want to Name this.
I want to call it like it is.

Let’s not miss the witness.

More To What More.

The announcements were just starting as the musicians ambled back to their seats.
The smell of dark, black coffee in hand drifted up to my nose and I found a seat.

I ran out the door five minutes prior, in a last minute decision to return to a church I had visited a few weeks earlier.  As I settled down into my chair and rummaged through my purse to find my bible I could not have been happier with my frantic choice.  The sweet routine of Sunday morning.

Ritual and routine is something I want to pretend that I don’t unabashedly love.  Crazy religious nuts do that; love that meaningless, going through the motions stuff. Part of the reason I thought I wouldn’t come back here.  It was so foreign.  Robes. Chanting. Readings.

But, who am I kidding?
I love routine.
The comfort of the leather in my hands. The familiar words spilling from the mouths of my neighbors. The standing and the sitting.  Okay, I still don’t like shaking hands with people around me with only enough time for an awkward "Good Morning", but I admittedly adore the comfort of sameness on the morning of the sabbath. [And this probably deserves a post of it’s own...]
Thankfully this morning I was able to look past the white robes and sash to hear something interesting. It’s a little more on What More? I wrote not long ago.

“Faith equals evidence plus the willingness to believe”

John 20:24-25
Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came.  So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

Thomas was told by the disciples, [notice plural] -people with whom he’d lived and journeyed with for months.  Trusted comrades told Thomas that they had seen Christ return.  Just as Jesus promised.  And yet, that wasn’t enough.  Thomas wanted more.  He had the evidence, the word of many bystanders from several different occasions.  [Let’s not forget the Mary’s sighting at the tomb.]  He just couldn’t take the words for truth until his own hands and eyes could prove it.

And then Christ appears to Thomas.
“Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side.” 


See you idiot. Didn’t I tell you I was coming back? Why didn’t you believe?
No, no.  That’s not what he says.
He says, “Do not disbelieve, but believe.”
Jesus doesn’t ground our doubting Thomas into the ground, but calls him up. Up to belief.

Jesus goes onto say that the blessed are those who believe when they haven’t put their fingers in wounds.  I don’t think this calls us to be ignorant. Thomas wasn’t informed that Jesus had risen from the dead only by the town loony.  He was informed by reliable sources.  He did have evidence. Blessed are those who have evidence, even if it might not feel like quite enough, and choose to believe.  If I’m honest with my doubting self, there will never be quite enough.  And so continues my wrestling. I have accumulated a pretty overwhelming amount of evidence in my short life.  And am amassing more with the passing days. Am I willing to really step into the mess of all of it?

What more do you need? What more?

John 20:30-31
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.

Relentless Assurance.

Sometimes I really need words of hope. Okay, all the time I really need words of hope. There are a lot of dark, heavy things going on out there and over here. And sometimes when it seems like too much, I run across something that gives me strength and courage and comfort.

The words of Jesus as recorded by John:

Let not your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God; believe also in me.


In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? and if I go and prepare a place for you I will com again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.


Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.


Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son.  If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it.


And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth,


You know him, for he dwells with you and will be with you.


I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.


Yet a little while and the world will see me no more, but you will see me.  Because I live, you also will live..


If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.


But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whome the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your rememberance all that I have said to you.


Peace I leave you, my peace I give to you.


Let not your heats be troubled, neither let them be afraid.


These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be full.


No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.


You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.


Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you.  But if I go, I will send him to you.


You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy.  When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.


So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.


Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.




I thought about trying to edit this down, as it seemed like a lot to read.
But why cut short relentless appeals to step out of despair and into hope?
May you know His relentless assurance. His relentless presence. His relentless love.
And may it strengthen and renew your weary soul.



And for more words on hope read this.
It’s like she took the words right out of my mouth.  Except for they were better than what would have come out.  :)

Pack It Up, Pack It In. Let Me Begin.

Packing.
I’ve been packing all my life.
In boxes. Duffle bags. Suitcases. Plastic totes. Paper bags. Lunch bags. Hiking packs and backpacks. Purses and pockets. Trash bags, trailers and trunks.

It started first with sleep overs.
Escalated with every other weekend and Wednesday nights.
I pulled things together for vacations and trips.
For school and dance class.
In the fall and again in the spring.
From cabin to cabin and house to house.
From tent to mountaintop.
Across the country and over the oceans.
In fact, packing has become my permanent.

I’m quite proficient at this routine.

Choose versatile combinations.
At least one good book.
Quickly run through your possible activities.  Choose shoes accordingly.
Just keep all personal hygiene products forever in one bag.  And on the off chance that you happen to leave your deodorant on the sink, you’ll only smell bad for a time.  Unless of course you keep your lavender oil in that toiletry bag and your sandalwood in your purse.  Which of course you do, so no worries.
Always pack extra underwear.  You just never know.
Dental floss and a little toothpaste can cover a multitude of forgetting that toothbrush after a last minute brushing.
Simplify.  See the first piece of advice. And notice the quantity of bag in line four.  Add small to that.
Roll.  Not fold, roll.
Don’t neglect the power of the extra pockets.  Use them wisely.

Despite my perceived packing prowess, I have come to loathe this routine.  It is a necessary evil in the game of life. True, it doesn’t usually take me very long, but I despise it all the same.  My least favorite part of the travel process to be sure.

I’ve spent way to many late nights stuffing bags and boxes.  I’m getting better at preemptively packing, which may really speak of my mastery of this routine, as I am often a procrastinator.  Add that to the list: Don’t wait until the last minute. Packing sucks anytime you do it, but the suckfest is only magnified when you feel exhausted and rushed.

Packing represents the end.  The end of a week.  A party with friends.  A vacation. A semester. A job. The end of a season. The end of relationships. The end of something.

As I tucked the last corner under the first, I thought about the loss.  The end.

And also the beginning.  Because while packing represents the end, it also represents a beginning.  The beginning of the next week.  A different party.  A new adventure. Another semester. A new job. The start of a new season.  The beginning of relationships.  The start of something.

The box I just taped up isn’t going to sit closed forever.  It’s going to get hoisted down after a time.  Tape ripped open and contents sorted through. The bag will get emptied and filled again soon. It’s a continuous action.  A perpetual movement, a continual metamorphosis.

Because the contents of bag I packed for that first sleep over doesn’t look the same these days.  Those footie pajamas wouldn’t fit anymore.  And it’s a different bag anyway, if we’re getting into specifics.

As time goes on, some things get carried over, some left behind. I happen to pick up a new shirt and leave an old pair of tennis shoes. Some sand or a rock or two hop on board and a million socks and a billion hair ties seem to get lost along the way.

Sure, the transition is sometimes tiresome, but I need to learn to love packing.
For one thing, it keeps me from ending up with a bunch of useless crap.
But it also helps me sift and sort.  Reorder and reorganize.  It forces me to evaluate what I really need and what I could and should do without. See what I’ve gained and recognize what I’ve shed.

Packing allows things to end, in order that new things can begin.

The Proverbial Snack.

Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but he who hates reproof is stupid.

I may or may not have laughed out loud when I came across this verse.
And cried at the same time.

Proverbs does a great job of cutting to the heart and creatively using language to paint a picture.  And in this case, to cut right to the chase.  For some reason the use of ‘stupid' shook me awake from the metaphors and analogies strewn throughout the verses.

After reading a few chapters however, the art of written word is not what sticks with me.  It’s the cutting part.  The part that feels like a cup of cold water to the face.  The chapters feel like one tall order after another.

Whoever belittles his neighbor lacks sense, but a man of understanding remains silent. 

Unfortunately, I have not always been a "man of understanding" in remaining silent... 

Whoever is steadfast in righteousness will live, but he who pursues evil will die.      

Steadfast in righteousness probably not on my top five list of self-descriptors...

Whoever guards his mouth preserves his life; he who opens wide his lips comes to ruin.     

 I was born with a big mouth?

Proverbs is a great road map.  Except for it’s more like a trail map.  Through the AT’s hundred mile wilderness.  It’s all laid out for you, but it’s going to take some serious sweat to get from point A to point B.

The great news is that there are a lot of really incredible promises laid right beside those charges.  One of my favorites:

I love those who love me, and those who seek me diligently will find me.

Promises that are the pat on the back after the slap on the shoulder.  That all the hard work involved with developing habits of righteousness and corralling tendencies to behave rashly leads to something good.  Things like finding that for which you search.

With the humble is wisdom.
The righteous will never be moved.
A gracious woman gets honor.

And there are also just some beautiful truths about life.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life. 
The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger shares its joy.
Anxiety in a mans heart weighs him down, but a good word makes him glad.

And so there is a little nibble of Proverbs.  You’ll encounter some things to look forward to like honor and security and wisdom.  And you’ll also get knocked around a little bit on issues of being lazy, speaking when you shouldn’t or ignoring what you know is right.

I highly recommend digesting some more of this, even if some parts are kind of hard to swallow.  I hear if you can’t take a little reproof your stupid...so there’s that.

The Ship: Part II

The sun beats down on your sea-weathered face,
A smile plays at your lips.
You feel the soft wooden handles of the wheel beneath your fingers,
Rejoice in the calm of a fresh day.

You breathe deep.
The air, crisp and sweet,
It fills your weary lungs.
So to, the gleaming sails now taut and full, as well.
It stirs up your hair and brushes past your face.
The bow cutting through the blue green swells forward and onward, once again.

You think back to the night before.
Hunkered beneath the creaking deck.
You squint your eyes and gaze about and that is when you see.
The place that you find your self on this new morning,

It’s right where you ought to be.

These aren’t the coordinates you had set before the squall kicked up.
It wasn’t your original plan.
Strangely, wonderfully, you find that what lies upon the horizon,
Is what you set out for from the start.

Your smile widens and you realize a new and profound truth.
Your ship was not unmanned last night, while you hid out down far below.

The ship is a trusty one.
It’s weathered storms before,
Ever carrying you through.

A tear rolls down your freckled cheek.
Now finally you know.
You know the reason you’ve made it through the wind and driving rain.
The ship is strong and sturdy, true.
But the Captain, the real Captain, it is He who has carried you through.

While you waited out the storm, unable to set the course.
The Navigator was there all the time.
Setting the path.
Guiding you on.
His strong calloused hands, took control of the spinning wheel.
Set the course in the blackest of nights.
He knew just where you were going, even when you could not see.

You look down at your hands.
They know this wheel so well.
The salted tear, it hits your lips as they curl up once again.
You open your fingers, drop your hands to the side.
And turn over the wheel.


[click here for part one]

What More?

Really guys.  Come on.
Was that really necessary?

The hail and locusts.
The exodus.
The parting of the Red Sea.
The pillar of cloud and fire.
The manna.  The quail.  The water.
The thundering of the presence of God on the mountain that greets you each morning when you rise from your tent.

Then Moses meets with God up there for a bit.
Apparently a bit too long.
And you beg Aaron for a god to worship.
What?
What more do you need?
What more could God possibly do to show you his God-ness and it be enough?

It just seems preposterous.  Ludicrous in fact.

And then as always I realize I need to ask myself the same question.

What more do you need, Jen?

Reading stories of the Israelites.  Hearing and living the stories, of your faithfulness and provision and with-ness.  It’s weaved through all of Your Story.
What more do I need to see and hear to trust you?
To fully surrender?

What more do you need?

Shut Up And Pedal.

I have a second set of parents.
They are an incredible blessing.  I can't even begin to explain.  But, one of them shared this poem with me as we sat talking about a life of faith.  And by it, may you be encouraged to just shut up.  And pedal.

The Road of Life 

At first, I saw God as my observer,
my judge,
keeping track of the things I did wrong,
so as to know whether I merited heaven
or hell when I die. 

He was out there sort of like a president.
I recognized His picture when I saw it,
but I really didn't know Him. 

But later on
when I met Christ,
it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride,
but it was a tandem bike,
and I noticed that Christ
was in the back helping me pedal. 

I don't know just when it was
that He suggested we change places,
but life has not been the same since. 

When I had control,
I knew the way.
It was rather boring,
but predictable . . .
It was the shortest distance between two points. 

But when He took the lead,
He knew delightful long cuts,
up mountains,
and through rocky places
at breakneck speeds,
it was all I could do to hang on! 

Even though it looked like madness,
He said, "Pedal!"
I worried and was anxious
and asked,
"Where are you taking me?"
He laughed and didn't answer,
and I started to learn to trust. 

I forgot my boring life
and entered into the adventure.
And when I'd say, "I'm scared,"
He'd lean back and touch my hand. 

He took me to people with gifts that I needed,
gifts of healing,
acceptance
and joy.
They gave me gifts to take on my journey,
my Lord's and mine. 

And we were off again.
He said, "Give the gifts away;
they're extra baggage, too much weight."
So I did,
to the people we met,
and I found that in giving I received,
and still our burden was light. 

I did not trust Him,
at first,
in control of my life.
I thought He'd wreck it;
but He knows bike secrets,
knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners,
knows how to jump to clear high rocks,
knows how to fly to shorten scary passages. 

And I am learning to shut up
and pedal
in the strangest places,
and I'm beginning to enjoy the view
and the cool breeze on my face
with my delightful constant companion, Jesus Christ.
And when I'm sure I just can't do anymore,
He just smiles and says . . . "Pedal." 

-- author unknown

See.  My adopted parents have great taste.  And a lot of wisdom.

Different Sides Of The Mountain.

It is unseasonably warm.  Record high temperatures for Michigan in March.  Definitely not the norm.   I’m beginning to wonder what isn’t unseasonable in this life.  Everything in my neck of the woods seems to be a little out of the ordinary.  Mostly because there doesn’t seem to be an ordinary.  Maybe I just haven’t lived enough seasons yet to notice a pattern...?  But alas, I digress.  Let’s get back to the fact that:
I spent the evening at the BEACH.
In MARCH.
In a tee-shirt.
After some scribbling in my notebook and line reading, I decided to stretch my legs.  And the muscles in my toes and the arches of my feet.  Sand will do all of that, very well.
Due to the fact that it is still early in the season the hard packed sand is exposed it many areas and found in large fluffy mounds in others.  Rocks have become little towers unto themselves as the wind carves away the sand around them.
I was taking all this in-which actually means I was mostly trying not to let my mind run off in a million different directions.  A good long walk usually helps with this, but it’s a bit of a fight in the beginning until rhythm sets in and my crazy brain loses steam.  So, I was taking this in... when all of a sudden, I was ankle deep in wet sand!  I quickly pulled my foot up and continued, my tread sinking an inch or two, only to loose my foot a few steps later.   I continued on, my mind now pondering the quicksand.

We’re walking along in life, on what looks like hard, wet sand.  Our minds are a thousand miles away and we are just going about our business paying little mind to the ‘predictable’ surface upon which we tread. Then suddenly, we are caught off-gaurd.  It startles us, throws us off our balance. We might even roll and ankle, who knows? We have to re-steady ourself after this unforeseen obstacle and try to move forward without trepidation after receiving a curve ball.

And sometimes, all we want is to fall in.  The flat hard surface feels desolate and monotonous and we want something deeper.  Something more and other than this routine.  As we press on, we are begging for anything that will refresh our weary feet. The sudden loss of our foot is like a breath of fresh air, a joyous ‘awakening’. It brings smile to our face, and we bound forward hoping for another thrill, another taste of something messy and intimate.  

The same event can elicit different reactions depending on which side of the mountain you are on.
I’m not sure if you've understood even a bit of all that.
It felt profound.  When finding myself startled and later delighted after discovering quicksand.  Perhaps it’s profundity depends on whether or not your are on my side of the mountain.

There’s a good chance that I’m just a little nutters as well.  And for me, that’s not really unseasonable.

The Ship.

Sometimes, you find yourself on a large ship.
A sturdy ship.
Wooden and worn.
The sun bleached deck beneath your feet telling stories much older, much bigger, than your own.
It’s sails large and billowing, catching the salty breeze, carrying you ever forward.
It’s weathered storms.  Big storms.

Like the one you currently find yourself in.
The wind picks up.
Sails flailing wildly in the forceful gusts.
Menacing swells tossing you back and forth like a toy boat.
The rain coming down in torrents, in cold heavy sheets.
Tops of waves covering the weathered deck with icy water.
The wheel spinning unrestrained, the rudder useless.
And even if it were operable, it would be of no matter.
For even your hands disappear in front of your face into the inky blackness and driving rain.
You can’t steer the vessel.
And even if you could you wouldn’t be able to set a course.

This is when you hunker down.  Wait it out.

This ship is a trusty one.
It’s weathered storms before.  Big storms.
Just like the one you currently find yourself in.
For the time being, you can’t steer the vessel.  You can’t set the course.

But this ship is a trusty one.
It will carry you through this.
And before long the clouds will break.
The sun will creep up on the horizon and wake the day,
Lighting the settled waters.
A soft breeze will fill the faithful sails.
Your course will again be clear.
Grasping the wheel in your calloused hands, you will smile.
Maybe even sing.

Just Another Question.

So, I’ve been thinking; why the wilderness?

I made it through the Israelite’s flight from the oppressive hand of Egypt.
Pillars of cloud and fire as a guide.  Which has become my most recent prayer.  I’d take a firefly for pete’s sake, as long as I could follow it somewhere.
The parting of the Red Sea.  It’s a massive body of water.  Split. They bustled right through a water-walled corridor with Pharaoh’s entourage nipping at their heels.

Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today...The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.  Exodus 14:13-14  

Moses drops a praise jam.  Sing it.
Filling their bellies. Cleaning bad water with a log and sending food in the form of glutinous frost.  And let’s not forget hitting a rock with a stick to get water too.
Defeating the army of Amalek. With God, and the help of some good friends.
Some father-in-law-ly advice.  Which I’ve written about before...
The presence of God.  Enough said.
The Ten Commandments.  A semi-pivotal part in the story.

All of these things could be a page or two on their own.
But through all this, I can’t shake it; why the wilderness?

When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near.  For God said, “Lest the people change their minds when they see war and return to Egypt.”  But God led the people around by the way of the wilderness toward the Red Sea.  Exodus 13:17-18

War.  I’m not  certain, but I can see why something like war might make you change your mind.
I do know for certain that there have been a few times in the wilderness where I’ve thought, “Why the heck am I choosing to subject myself to this right now?” A few trips across insanely windy lakes and sleeping on roots and rocks after hiking all day come to mind.

And the Israelites ended up 'changing their minds' in the wilderness anyway.  Many times wanting their [comfortable] lives of slavery back.

So why the wilderness God?  
You had to have known that your people are prone to these changes of feeling.  One minute they are crying out to you because of their oppression and the next they’re begging to go back.  Just lead them through the war, let them change their minds, save and provide over and over again, and get them to the promised land a little quicker.
There has to be something else going on here.

Did you have to deprogram your people?
Deconstruct their identity as slaves instead of sons and daughters?
Break down the influences of a culture with many gods but devoid of the real deal?
Did you need to show them your glory?
Remind them that the Lord their God is one, the one?
And that He is freaking powerful, compassionate and amazing?
Did they just need time?
Time and distance before they entered the promised land, a new life?
Did they need to experience your ceaseless faithfulness for forty years before they would really understand?
Were you doing all of the above God?
And something really cool that I don’t even know about?

And after all that, my questions remains.
Why the wilderness?
Why.
The.
Wilderness.

If anyone has any insight.  Please, do share.
I love sharing.

The Four Way Stop.

I hesitate.
I pause,          falter.

My foot resting timidly over the accelerator.
Leaning forward, hands at ten and two.
Eyes darting back and forth.
Me? You? Were you? Okay. Wait? Me?
I press the gas lightly, my nose edging ever so slightly past the stop sign.  Finally working up the nerve to creep out.
Then out of the corner of my eye I see a hint of their wheel turning and I lose my gumption.
My foot jumps instinctively off the accelerator and back to the comfort of the brake pedal and my car lurches momentarily as I make eye contact with the other party clearly waiting for me to go.

Yes, I am one of those drivers.

And as this was pointed out to me, I wondered...
Am I one of ‘those’ in life too?


Forever hesitating.
Living in a state of uncertainty.
Is it my turn?
Wait, should I go?
Were you there first, or was I?

Yes, very unfortunately, yes.  I often am.
I don’t move forward, I lurch forward.  Jerky and constipated.  Foot forever hovering nervously over the brakes.
Sometimes, I just have to decide. Stick to my guns.
At the four way stop,  I          just            have          to         press           the          gas        and        GO.
So my friends, here’s to the accelerator.  Gosh, I need to learn how to use it.
May I press it down with level headed determination.  We’re not aiming to crash here after all.
We’re working on getting through a four way stop without confusing everyone.
Choose a way and GO.

Anything But Monotonous.

I am wriggling in anticipation.
I can hardly wait to get to the exodus.
But first,
the plagues.

Blood for water.
Frogs.
Gnats.
Flies.
Dead Livestock.
Boils.
Ridiculously large hail.
Locusts.
Darkness.
The death of sons.

Do you think Moses and Aaron ever thought to themselves when they awoke in the morning,

“Well, off to the daily grind again.  I wonder what the plague is today? No matter, Pharaoh’s heart will still be hard.”

Okay, so probably not.  But it seems a little bit monotonous.  I feel calloused saying that.  I mean there were piles of stinking, dead frogs all over Egypt, people were so miserably covered in boils they couldn’t stand and a whole people group lost their first born son.

Perhaps monotonous is the wrong word choice.  ?

I just wonder what was going through Moses' and Aaron’s heads amidst all of this.
This little break in the ‘monotony’ in which we hear Moses’ words and perhaps a glimpse into his independent thought, is great.

Moses said to him, “As soon as I have gone out of the city, I will stretch out my hand to the LORD.  The thunder will cease, and there will be no more hail, so that you may know that the earth is the LORD’s. But as for you and your servants, I know that you do not yet fear the LORD God.” Exodus 9:29-30

 From what I can gather, as God is introducing the ‘hail round’, He didn’t specifically tell Moses:

 a) to say this to Pharaoh [like He usually does] or b) that He would again harden Pharaohs’s heart [like He usually does].

I do love what He does tell Moses to say though.  Basically, He wants Moses to relay the message that, as Creator, He could have crushed Pharaoh long ago and avoided this whole 'dog and pony show'.  But then, Pharaoh wouldn’t be around to be brought to his knees by the all powerful God.

"I have raised you up, to show you my power, so that my name may be proclaimed in all the earth.” -God.  Exodus 9:16

Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Pharaoh.  Bam.

But let’s revisit this fear thing Moses talked about.  Moses could smell Pharaoh’s fear.  But it was fear of the troublesome hail and wanting to be rid of it.  Not fear of God, which the sad sac tried to convince Moses was what he was really smelling.  Interestingly enough however, this fear is being stirred up in a few in the land.

Then whoever feared the word of the LORD among the servants of Pharaoh hurried his slaves and his livestock into the houses... Exodus 9:20

They were most definitely scared shitless, and understandably so, just recovering form a severe case of body blisters. But I think their fear can be translated into something other than just knocking knees and shaking hands.  They TRUSTED that God was going to do what He said.  They certainly had evidence in their empty fields and mounds of rotting amphibians stacked everywhere.  Their fear, I think, was motivated not so much by weather in the form of hail, but by the fact that they KNEW the hail was coming.

So I guess what I’m saying is that fear is linked to trust.
? Hm.  Interesting.

And I’m also saying that I love this story.
...I have a strange feeling I may have mentioned that before....

Thanks, Frank.

Thanks for the reminder ol' blue eyes... 

The best is yet to come.

-Frank Sinatra.

...And in many, many more ways than the old romantic alluded to in his lyrics.  Double best.

Lauryn Hill. Mmmmhm.

"See what we now know is nothing compared
to the love that was shown when our lives were spared
and tell him...

Tell Him I need Him.

Tell Him I love Him"

-Lauryn Hill, Tell Him



¹⁶ By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. ¹⁷ But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him? ¹⁸ Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.
¹⁹ By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; ²⁰ for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything. 
-John, Chapter 3

Saved From The Bend.

You want to save us, God.
From the very beginning when we walked away.
And you’ve been saving us ever since.

You saved us from our self-inflicted pain, covering with garments our ugly, naked shame.

You saved us from oppression, under a heavy hand, that we could enter through the sea into the promised land.

You saved us from the belly, the belly of the whale, when we ignored your guidance, giving grace despite how we fail.

You saved us from the death, a life apart from you, you spilled your blood that we, that I, might begin life anew.

You’ve rescued us more times than I can recount.
I need to be reminded.
Now.  And again and again.
May it remind me of your incredible love, this ever saving plan.
Help me to remember, when I start to bend this truth.
Crushing us under your thumb, it is not your real intent.
Those times I feel you say, as a friend just put to words-
“Just pick up your damn cross already, it’s really not that hard.”
Help me hear and see and know, that those angry words don’t fit.
They just don’t match with this awe-some story you’ve been telling again and again.
God, you save us.

You save us when it’s our fault.

You save us when it’s not.

You save us left and right, in the morning, and in the dark night.

O, you want to save us.

And you have been, and you will.

This lovely loving truth, this our hope and stay, this, and not the bend, is what prompts me to obey.

Moses Wears Chuck Norris Pajamas 2.0.

Okay.  I have a correction to make.

I realized that I lied. There are TWO Pharaoh's involved in my last post. 
So the first ruler that threw Moses out is a different ruler than the one he appeals to on behalf of God.  This means Moses didn't really know the Pharaoh he was going to, and he wasn't the guy who kicked Moses out.

Shoot.  I really should go to seminary or something if I'm going to keep this up...
I've probably made mistakes in the past.  And will continue to.  So let this be a lesson to us, don't take my word for it, dig into the Word yourself.   

And I also realize that this title is a little confusing. Moses doesn't really appear to be round house kicking anyone in the face at this point.  He kind of looks like a wimp.  In reality I should have titled this post, "God Wears Chuck Norris Pajamas".  Except for that really doesn't work either.  Because God doesn't need pajamas.  And it would be comparing Chuck Norris to God, even if it's insinuating Chuck Norris is inferior, it still just isn't right. 

Again.  Seminary.  Something.  Oh my.

Moses Wears Chuck Norris Pajamas.

How does Moses do it?

He grows up in a culture that is not his own.  He must know this pretty clearly.  Because when he sees an Egyptian beating up his hebrew homeboy he kills him and buries him in the sand right then and there.
When Pharaoh gets word, he’s not too happy, seeing as this outsider killed one of his slaves.  So he kicks Moses out.

Moses goes on his way, settles elsewhere, gets himself a nice wife and a nice life.

And then God shows up.
In a bush.
nbd.

“Hey Moses.  It’s me the God of your father, and your father’s father, and his father’s father.  I wouldn’t come closer if I was you, my glory might be a little much for you.  And take your shoes off your shoes for while you’re at it.  This is holy ground your treading on.  So I’ve been hearing some things.  Hearing my people.  They are seriously bumming.  Beyond bumming, they are downright miserable.  I know what they are going through, and I don’t like it.  I’m going to rescue them.”

Moses is probably thinking-if he can even think at all while he’s standing barefoot in the presence of the Almighty God- “Wow, awesome.  No, really AWE-some.  The God of my father and my father’s father and his father’s father knows what’s going on with his chosen people. He’s hearing their laments and He’s gonna do something about their oppression.”

And then God drops the hammer,

“Come, I will send you to Pharaoh that you may bring my people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.” Exodus 3:10

I can just see Moses, open mouthed [again, if he’s not already drooling all over himself], finger in his ear, “Wait.  What did you say?”

“Come, I will send you to Pharaoh that you may bring my people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.” Exodus 3:10

“Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?” Exodus 3:11

What he’s really saying is:
Sure I lived with him for awhile*, but he kicked me out.  Remember?  I killed someone.  I’m pretty sure he’s not going to welcome me back.
Oh, and let’s not forget that even if I were going in with a clean slate you are asking me to command he release all his slaves.  There are like, a lot of people.  If they leave, who’s going to do all the work?  Pharaoh?  I know* the guy, this is not going to go over well.
Who am I?

“B u t            I             w i l l               b e                  w i t h               y o u . . .”                  

Exodus 3:12

Moses.  Don’t worry about it.  I’ll be with you!
I imagine God smiling and giving Moses a comforting ‘buckaroo’ punch in the arm with a wink.  Except for Moses’ arm would probably disintegrate and if Moses looked to catch the wink his face wouldn't be just glowing it’s be burning or something, from the inside out.  Anyway...

Moses argues a bit more.  God, they’ll ask for your credentials.  God, they won’t believe me.  But God, I don’t speak so good.  I ain’t the man fer dis job.  Blah, blah, blah.
The great thing is that God gives Moses tangible solutions to these qualms.  Even though the 'being with' part should have been enough.

Finally Moses packs up the station wagon, er camels?, and heads back to Egypt.  I figure loading up and taking his staff along are Moses’ ways of saying, “Alright.  Well, I guess I’m in.” [Exodus 3:20]

And while Moses is on the way, God mentions one more small detail,

“Oh, yeah.  And I’m going to harden Pharaoh’s heart.  So do all the stuff I told you to do, and just know that it’s not going to do anything.  And then tell Pharaoh that he’s...well things are going to get nasty.  Hey...your knees are shaking...I’m going to take care of it, don’t worry!”

How does Moses do it?
With a name, a staff, some show and tell and his trusty side-kick Aaron?
Well that,
and                     GOD                     was                    WITH                     him!


If this story were on facebook I’d ‘like’ it.  Definitely.  Oooo, I can’t wait to unpack more...


*Addendum: I realized that I lied. There are TWO Pharaoh's involved here.  So the first ruler that threw Moses out is a different ruler than the one he appeals to on behalf of God.  This means Moses didn't really know the Pharaoh he was going to, and he wasn't the guy who kicked Moses out.  Shoot.  I really should go to seminary or something if I'm going to keep this up...

Healthy Habits.

It felt good to stretch my legs today.
Mostly because they are getting a little soft.  I can partly blame my flabby thighs on my Valentine.  He’s great with numbers.  Incredibly organized.  A bit ‘by the book’ sometimes, a little too ‘formulaic' for my taste, but you have to take the good with the bad eh?  We’ve been spending a lot of time together and he requires a lot of sedentary focused attention and well, if I ever become Mrs. Microsoft Excel, I had better find a clothing line flattering to pear shapes.

But this got me to thinking [the part about stretching my legs-not about my beau excel]  about habits. ‘Healthy' versus ‘Unhealthy'. From experience, I can’t have mostly healthy habits and squeak a few junk food type habits in, because the latter is a contagious disease.  Allow me to use two examples that show the snowball effect and the compound effect.

Example one:
On the food note, I eat pretty healthy according to most standards.  But I’ve been healthier.  This summer I started experimenting with baking more gluten free things.  Now, I can’t get enough chewy sugar laden treats. I'll take a peanut butter cookie over a mango these days. O, the horror!

Example two:
I taught myself to sleep on my back in high school because I heard it was better for your back. It took a long while, but I’ve been a back sleeper ever since.  Well, until I moved home. Maybe the sweets are to blame, but I started sleeping on my side again.  Now my back hurts consistently.  Even as I type this I am leaning to the left with my left shoulder dropping, my head cocked to the right and my legs crossed.  It’s a recipe for scoliosis!

These ridiculous examples to say, that while sucking cold winter air, I noticed a bigger issue.

When I’m doing healthy things, unhealthy things are wholly unappetizing.  When I’m doing unhealthy things, I only have 'eyes' for those dirty rascals. [Sorry Excel.] I know what I should do, and yet I don’t do it.  Because I’m being led astray by white sugar and sleeping in the fetal position.

Is this sounding slightly familiar to anyone else?

“For I do not understand my own actions.  For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”
“For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.  For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep doing.”  -Paul, Romans 7

He says that when he works up the urge for something good, “evil lies close at hand.” [Evil looks surprisingly like dairy free no-bake cookies sometimes btw.] Can I get an amen?

"Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us RUN with PERSEVERANCE the race marked out for us.” -Hebrews 12:1

Running is a a habit that requires perseverance. It takes awhile to establish, speaking from experience.
This verse was running through my head too while running:

“Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” -Romans 12

I know I’ve been transformed.  But dang, it seems I have a lot of transforming left to do!  And how quickly I feel like I’ve lost a handle on my transformation and slip into spoonfuls of jif peanut butter, pride and bitterness with a side of couch potato.  I’ve heard a rumor that it takes 30 days to develop a habit.  I’m beginning to think that rumor is total bull.

I know I have to show a little perseverance. Show a little discipline.  Take an honest inventory. Root out those unhealthy habits. Fill the gaps with real good ones. Throw off the sin that so easily gets me all tangled up.  And it's not going to be easy.  But the grass really is greener on the other side.  I know this because I've frolicked in it from time to time.  So be gone you parasitic habits! I'm trading you in for better ones!

Oh, and I almost forgot something.  For those times when the evil close at hand is absolutely relentless...
The good news.

“Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?

[drumroll please...]

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” -Paul, Romans 7

YES!  Saved by the Christ, yet again.  THANKS BE TO GOD.  For if it were just up to me, we’d be in trouble.  Probably drown in chocolate sauce and impatience or something equally terrible.

Psalm Writing.

As was pointed out to me by a friend recently: this blog has turned into a 'musical intermission' of sorts, for  actual writing.

I own that. Copying song lyrics.  Stealing quotes from better writers. Posting videos.  It’s been taking up a fair share of space here.

[Maybe it's better that way...?]

It’s not that I haven’t been writing.

In fact, I’m filling my journal at an alarming rate.  And I have more ‘drafts’ saved than ever before.  I even find scrall on scraps of paper in my purse or jammed between the pages of a current book.

[Which...has been Harry Potter. It stimulates imagination and creativity...?]

So 'tis not for lack of words, my friends, that you find yourself mostly listening to music when you visit.  The problem is:

I’ve been psalm writing.

At least that’s what I’ve decided to call it.

So why am I not sharing?

Have you read the psalms?!
That is like, bare-bones, show up to school and be forced to wear the liners of your snow boots all day because you forgot your shoes, kind of stuff.  It's like showing all your cards.  The kind of honesty I'm not really interested in sharing, to be honest.  Mostly because it would remove all my brooding mystery, which everybody knows is what you need, and partly because you'll probably think I'm a bit nutty.  Maybe even borderline insane.
BUT.
One thing I love about the psalms, is that no matter how shockingly vulnerable and lamenting they may be, they continue to praise a constant, loving and faithful God.
You can go on and on about how you are a worm and how you want to scrape your wounds with sharp pieces of broken pottery and in the next breath say, "yet I trust in your unfailing love". 
And that's what I want to do.
I hope and pray that my lips would be dripping with the truth of God.
Even if they are also dripping because I just tripped, and bit a hole through my lip.
Blood, mingled with promises like these in Psalm 46:

God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in time of trouble.
Therefore we will not be afraid,
Though the earth gives way,
Though the mountains move into the heart of the sea,
Though its waters roar and foam,
Though the mountains tremble at it's swelling.
...There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God
...God is in the midst of her;
She shall not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
He utters his voice, the earth melts.
The LORD of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our fortress.
....He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the chariots with fire.
"Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!"
The LORD of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our fortress.

I was just reading about how old Zechariah doubts the ability of him and his barren wife to bear a son.  So God shuts him up.  Literally.  When his tongue is finally loosed, the first thing he does is bless God.
Ah, yes.
It's kind of going in a different direction than where I started,
But with loosed pen, my first response is: I bless you Lord.
Thank you for your promises.  May I never tire of speaking of your unfailing goodness toward me.