Felling Trees

April showers bring May flowers. Surely the person who first gave wind to those words lived here in the mountains of Georgia because April seems always to be the month of deluge before May inevitably pins sun's yellow yolk to velvet blue skies. This year the rains have been accompanied by tornado warnings, crazy buckets of hail, darkened skies electrocuted by lightning and convulsive thunder. It's been years since I've seen a spring with this many storms in short succession. At the entrance to our subdivision, my neighbors' house sits beneath towering poplars and oak trees. I called to check in on them after we'd passed yet another spring storm, when they told me they were going to have some trees cut down. Explaining that during the previous nights' winds they watched those trees sway perilously close to their home, they were confident that left to another nasty storm, those trees could do significant damage to their life's investment. I understood. Easily twice the height of their three story home, I couldn't help but consider those trees as I drove by their house later that week. No matter the soundness of their home, it remained no match for the havoc those poplars could wreak. They would have to be felled. Psalm 29:9 says, "The Lord's shout bends the large trees and strips the leaves from the forests. Everyone in his temple says, "Majestic!"" In our lives, have we not known some great and insurmountable tree that towers dangerously close to the people and things we hold dear? I've watched drug and alcohol addiction sway over the heart and mind of someone I desperately love. I've seen foreclosure notices cloud the skies and crowd the lives of dear friends, and I've known pain and hurt left to grow into giants that threatened once happy marriages. Yes, I've known trees that needed a good felling. And our God is able to do that with one shout. One single shout from our Creator bends the very things that threaten to overtake our lives. Just as the storm the other night sucked the dogwood blossoms from the arms of their trees, one shout from our God strips circumstances of the power they appear to have in our lives. Psalm 29 goes on to say, "The Lord sits enthroned over the engulfing waters, the Lord sits enthroned as the eternal king." There's a dam not far from our home that serves to regulate the amount of water held in our lake and used for power production. Only a few times in my life have I known that dam to be filled to capacity and the waters to pour over like the falls of Niagara. It is in that state now--a surging army of frothy water perpetually cascades over the dam. Armed with cameras, people are driving out there just to see the sight. Flooded lives though are not so breathtaking, are they? Interestingly that is the word David uses here to describe the water. Flood. It's the same word used in Genesis to describe the great flood of mankind. This is the only other place in the Old Testament where that same word is used. Imagine a situation so great in David's life that the only thing he could liken it to was the very flood that swallowed humanity, plants, animals and life in one gulp! What I love about that passage is not the description of the circumstances but the picture David painted of God. God is sitting enthroned over the engulfing waters. Reminiscent of Jesus' own slumbering amidst New Testament storms on the Galilean Sea, our Father remains so in control that he has not even had to get up off his throne to handle the situations in our lives. He is still on the throne of all creation, still seated as sovereign King. This is our God. So able, that though the contents of our lives may appear to be overflowing and our own ability to hold them together may be entirely maxed out, He remains unfazed and utterly able. The last verse of that chapter says, "The Lord gives his people strength; the Lord grants his people security." I love grants because they are free. God requires nothing in the granting of strength to his people. The Hebrew phrasing here implies a military type of strength. The idea that when things seem beyond our ability to handle, God will bring in reinforcements is so reassuring. The reality of our lives is that He never leaves us to face giants alone. He never turns His back when the waters spill over our worlds. Instead, He freely gives His people the security of knowing that He remains enthroned. Remains able. Remains in control. Our God remains. So my neighbors will have a tree guy come do his thing. He's an expert in the taking down of trees whose limbs threaten the stability of a home. But what about you and I? Where will we turn for the felling of situations and circumstances in our own worlds? It is so tempting to take matters into our hands, to exhaust every avenue possible to find resolution. Yet there are times when the truth is we need to simply, "Be still and know that He is God." (Psalm 46:10) A picture comes to mind of little me planted like a spider inside some small lifeboat at the edge of the dam attempting to prevent myself from being carried over the edge by the rushing water. Furiously rowing, I am fighting a battle never meant to be won by my feeble arms. There are times in our lives, when we have to surrender to the flood and the trees and the storms. There are times when we need to ask God to help us see the spiritual world around us instead of the physical. What if in that same picture I could see God--the greater, invisible hand that cradles my little boat. "Faith," my friends is the very "substance of things hoped for, the evidence not seen." (Hebrews 11:1) We may not be able to see the hands of our Father at work, but we can stand in the security that He is working. May we hear the shouts of our Father. May we sense His presence. May we live amidst the storms in the greater reality that our God remains on the throne, unfazed. "And if our God is for us, than who can stand against?" (Romans 8:31)

Pondering

Verse 19. It's the one that always gets me. I don't why exactly, but the phrase, "Mary treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart" (Luke 2:19) is as captivating to me now as it was when I was a little girl. Here was a young lady, barely a woman from what historians tell us, who had seen an angel, heard tale of her barren cousin's miraculous pregnancy, carried a baby and birthed it in a stable of all places, and was visited by shepherds who also saw angels and found she and her infant son by their direction. She's lead quite an extraordinary life. And I wonder, what did she ponder? The passage says she pondered "these things" and I have to think it was the miracles, the promises made to her that came to fruition right before her eyes, even within her own body, on which she let her heart linger. Matthew 6:9-10 says, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven where moths and rust do not destroy and thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is there your heart will be also." At Christmas, I can't help but think of all the material treasures we cling to. We make our lists, we check them twice. We add more to our lists. We stretch ourselves in every way possible and rarely is it all enough. And days later, the discarded wrappings are bulging from over-taxed garbage bins waiting at the curb, largely forgotten, new toys are laying about the house in various corners, the brooms shifts aggressively over crumbs and scraps, and the season is tidied and tucked away for another year. There is nothing wrong at all with gift-giving or any holiday festivity. I am just pointing out that what is often the treasure of our children's hearts and even that of our own hearts days before Christmas is soon forgotten days after. And we are left picking up miscellaneous pieces. Then there was Mary. She was given this beautiful son. Sure He was God incarnate, but to a young mother who nourished him, clothed him, comforted his tears, sang him to sleep, taught him Jewish customs, and kissed his skinned knees, I am sure he was more son than God. And only three decades after giving birth to that sweet baby she would lose him to a death that would kill most women from grief. He didn't become king on earth in the way many hoped. He was ripped from her life violently and without mercy. Gone. There can be no pain like that of losing your own child. It is unutterable. Indescribable. How did that woman survive? I think it must go back to what she treasured early on as a young girl. She had seen the faithfulness of God. She had seen that Yahweh was "not slack concerning his promises." (II Peter 3:9) She had seen that when he told her she would bring forth a son, she did just that. She had seen His protection of that young son when he brought visions to Joseph that they should leave the place they were staying for the safety of the child. She treasured and pondered the character and promises of God. When faced with the greatest, deepest lost, she had a treasure trove within her heart of things that moths and rust do not destroy, that man can never crucify. With every passing year I learn that we are less and less invincible. The marriage I thought was made in heaven crumbles, the man I thought so strong stumbles, the home of someone's childhood burns to the ground, the healthy little girl becomes racked with cancer, the friends once so close are a distant memory. Life is so full of change. There's that saying that the only things certain in life are death and taxes. There's some truth to that addage, but to it I would add that the greatest certainty in life is the faithfulness of our God to fulfill his promises. So this season, I'm making a point to examine what exactly it is I treasure and to focus my pondering on the faithfulness of God in my own life. I'm treasuring the times He's carried me through. I'm pondering the times when I saw His promises materialize in my little world. Because I don't know if I will get tomorrow. And if I do receive tomorrow, I do not truely know who or what I will find there with me. But this I do know, if I meet tomorrow, I meet it in the company of the God who promises never to leave, never to forsake. There are uncertainties in my life even now--things that I worry over, surprises, curveballs, things we weren't expecting. But God knew. Scripture says, "You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast on thee. For he trusts in you." (Isaiah 26:3) May I be found pondering the God who remains good in all circumstances; may that be where my heart is found. In that there is peace. And didn't the angel proclaim, "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace....to all men." (Luke 2:14) Pray with me: Jesus, YOU are life. You are joy. You are peace. You are hope. You are ALL that I could ever need. May I see YOU for who you are. May my heart not become crowded with treasures that could dissolve tomorrow but may my heart be filled to overflowing with YOU. I treasure YOU this season. Amen. Read with me: What God has promised. II Peter 1:4 Philippians 4:19 II Cor. 12:9 I Cor. 10:13 Jude 24 Romans 8:28 John 3:16 Psalm 46:1 Matthew 11:28 (a link with a lot more-- www.smilegodlovesyou.org/promises.html )

I Saw You

There dangles from the eaves of my house, like a ruby hourglass, a hummingbird feeder; a lighthouse suspended for those self-propelled ships of the air with beaks almost as long as their thumb-sized bodies. It was March when I hoisted myself onto the railing of my deck, some thirty-six feet in the air and coiled it's attaching wire through the metal on the eaves. There it hung--a signal that a sugar water banquet had been spread. And then I waited. See I have a thing for hummingbirds. Amazing to me are their tiny wings that flutter and flap over sixty times before I can finish saying one Mississippi. Unfathomable. And I want to be with them. I want to see them; to watch them. So the routine begins each year after the feeder has been filled and hung that I take my quiet time outside on one of my red rockers--painted red over black or white as another signal to them that food is nearby--and watch. I know they will come, and so it is only a waiting game. Eventually I hear it--a sound not unlike that of a bumblebee and yet distinctively different, more purposeful, almost like an ant-sized helicopter. And without moving my body at all, I avert my eyes from the passage I am reading to watch his first landing, his first sip of the nectar I've prepared.

To describe how I feel when he comes is probably an exercise in futility but I will try. I plan for them. I think about the reds of blossoms, the nectar giving properties of the flowers I choose, the overall appeal of the plants I place in my gardens and planters all in relation to the hummingbird. And that first motoring sound of his wings, the signal that he has come, is so entirely expected--I knew he'd come because I'd made everything ready for him--and yet so entirely gratifying--the work I'd done yielded the desired results.

Then begins a week or so of just watching, enjoying. Every morning I sit on the rocker propping my Bible against my knees, coffee mug placed precariously on the rocker's arm or more solidly on last year's abandoned toad habitat, and wait. They both come now--male and female--to drink. Every morning. Usually twice. They return too, throughout the day, but it is in the morning that I see them. And eventually I begin to move around them. When they become confident that I won't harm them, I attempt to make their photo which too is an exercise in futility since no image I've ever collected has compared to the real thing. But I try.

It's about 8 square inches, I'd say. The space occupied by feeder and bird can't be much more than that in size. I have to zoom right in with my camera to bring that small section of life into focus. Atop the hill from my neighbor's vantage, you'd never know they were there. Just eight tiny inches of a world filled with statues of liberty, Mount Everests and Grand Canyons--so insignificant really. But I see those eight square inches every single day. I observe them with joy, with care, with determination, with dedication. I am unstoppingly compelled to enjoy them because it was I who made a place for them; it was I who planned for them. And they came--to my eight square inches.

I read from John the first morning I waited for the birds to join me. Jesus had been in Bethany and decided to travel north to Galilee. Nothing Jesus ever did was coincidence. He did, after all, have the knowledge of God miraculously available to his human form. So when he found Philip and spoke, "Follow me" I believe though Philip may have been floored, Jesus was probably expecting him. And upon being told to follow, Philip did exactly what I would have done. He ran off to Nathanael and told him, "We have found the one Moses wrote about in the law, and the prophets also wrote about--Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph."

A little history for those who may not already know. The Jews were living under Roman rule. They had been without a word from God or prophet for around 400 years. 400 years of oppression, of battles, of existence without any tangible hope or proof that their God still cared. 400 hundred years of silence. Have you ever felt that heaven remained silent while you called and called under your throat was dry and your voice no longer made a sound? Amongst a melting pot of cultures, beliefs, peoples from all manner of nations--Greek Roman, German, Egyptian, African--and multiple gods to go with each nation, the Jews had been left to wonder if any of it had ever even been real. How was their God any different from the pagan gods of other nations? And yet they had the law of Moses. They had the words of the prophets promising that someday a Messiah would come. And their understanding of this promise was much more literal than is ours today. They understood it to mean that when their Messiah came it would mean redemption from Roman rule, and the oppressive rule of other kings and emperors that He would bring. He would be King, but not of their hearts, of their literal world. They saw their countrymen brutally crucified on jagged spikes, they lost their husbands and their children to Roman whims, they gave their last coins to the Roman tax and lived in towns where Roman soldiers could drop their heavy packs before them and insist they carry the load of Rome for a mile. Though their lives were not all bad; they did live in fear. And I would venture to say that many if not all had doubts and there had to have been those who were cynical at best and more than likely hopeless. Nathanael, a Galilean himself knew the basin in which Nazareth lay and transparently replied to Philip, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" In him there would not be found political correctness, nor any desire to pretend that he believed the prophecy of a Messiah could be fulfilled by a carpenter from Nazareth.

Philip simply told him "Come and see." Come and see for himself--which on a side note is perhaps the most wonderful evangelistic phrase ever spoken. We spend so much time trying to learn the best evangelistic teachings, approaches and methods when all Philip said was, "Come and see." An invitation to come and discover Christ from a trusted person may be the most compelling way to share the path of Jesus ever used. (Exit tangent.)

As soon as Jesus sees Nathanael he says, "Look a true Israelite in whom there is no deceit!" In other words, "Here's the real deal. Here's a man who is authentic and in whom I find no falsehood." And Nathanael says to him, "How do you know me?" How? How can you know who I am? I'm just a Galilean--one of thousands. Tell me how you--a carpenter from Nazareth--can presume to know my heart?

And without hesitation Jesus says, "Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you." I saw you, Nathanael before Philip ever even told you to come and see, I saw you. No one will ever know what it was Nathanael was doing or thinking under the fig tree, but Jesus looked into that man's eyes and told him where he was located before Philip came to get him. Nathanael had to have felt the same hopelessness as other Jewish men and women and he had to have wondered at some time, "Does this God even care?" And Jesus said to him, "I saw you."

Nathanael is like the hummingbird. God had a plan for him just as I had a plan for that hummingbird. The plan involved a relationship. God didn't intend just to redeem Israel but to bring all mankind as individuals to Himself. Just as I set out a feeder to bring the hummingbirds to my home and waited patiently for their arrival, Jesus had to have anticipated the moment when he could look into Nathanael's eyes and say, "I know you exist and I care." That tiny little portion of earth under the fig tree may have only been a few square inches, but Jesus saw it.

You'll remember the story of Hagar when she was cast out of Abraham and Sarah's home with her son Ishmael and God introduced himself as Jehovah El Roi--The God who Sees. Is that not a beautiful name for the God we worship? He is the God who sees you. And no matter how small, how insignificant and unimportant your few square inches of earth may be, it does not go unnoticed. It does not go unplanned for. It does not go uncared for. It does not go untended. It does not go unwatched. And mark my words, it DOES NOT GO UNLOVED.

He sees the miner's wife as she weeps into her pillow at night over her husband's death. He sees the young girl in the inner city whose mother lives on welfare and doesn't know who her father is. He sees the swollen belly of the baby in Angola and the boy in the mountains of Afghanistan taught to shoot long before he understands the value of life. He sees the barren woman and the unemployed man. He sees. He sees the overwhelmed student and the stroke victim. He sees the greedy man and the hungry man, the raging woman and the abused. There is no square inch space on this entire planet that Jehovah El Roi does not see.

As I sit each morning and watch that crimson feeder for the arrival of the hummingbird I can't help but consider my antics. It seems silly that I should care so much for such a little thing, but I do. And that in that moment I'm overwhelmed by the reality that the obsession I nurture is entirely and utterly minuscule in comparison to the obsession of God on my behalf. As I focus on that feeder, it is I who am watched. It is I who am tended. And it is I who am seen. By the God of the universe. And you too, are seen.

Nathanael responded to Jesus by saying, "...You are the son of God; you are the king of Israel!" He responded with belief. I don't know where you are in life, but He knows. He cares He sees you. Do you believe?

Thankful for the Meat of Things: The I AM

If Thanksgiving had fallen on the day Christ hung lifeless from the trunk of a tree driven into the hill of Golgotha I wonder for what Mary would have given thanks. If 9--11 had delivered it's death jets on Thanksgiving Day I can't help but ask what we would have thanked God for. But upon Thanksgiving's arrival today there are fresh winds and blueberry frosh skies. The sausage rice stuffing is prepared and the sweet potato souffle is waiting for it's turn in the oven. Coffee is brewed and the news seems somehow void of any major events--for this one day. Thanksgiving. For centuries we've honored this day as a day to stop, just stop, and be thankful. I've always been one that likes to look beneath all the fixings, the trimmings, the fluff if you will. Show me the roots, the meat, the core, the crux. Get to the bottom line. Often when my husband has something to share with me I'll stop him and request that he tell me the end of his story first so I know exactly where we're going--then he can fill it in with all the details and dare I say bunny trails that make his stories so unique. And I find myself this morning in the same place--just saying, Lord, if everything and everyone I know and love were gone, what then would I be thankful for? What Lord, are those who awake today in barren lands or with barren hearts to give thanks for? This morning in my quiet time I was reading Isaiah 40 and like an anthem God's Word heralded the core of my Thanksgiving Offering. (Follow along in Isaiah 40) For what, Sarah can you always be grateful though flowers wither and grass turns brown with autumns parching wind? For what, Sarah can you say thank you when people die and holidays are spent alone, when stomachs are empty and dreams are unthinkable? This, Sarah, be thankful for this. I AM Comfort. I AM the God who comforts my people. I speak kindly to my people. There will come a day when I will end their time of warfare, when punishment will cease. Clear a way for me, for my comfort. Out of the desert regions within your souls will you open a road for me? I AM Adonai. I will elevate the valleys and I will level the mountains and hills. I will take the rugged, ravaged places and make them a smooth plain on which you will stand. I will reveal my splendor and everyone will see it. Don't doubt this because of what you see. Believe it because I have decreed it. Don't you realize that people are no different than grass yet you cling to them? Imagine clinging to a blade of grass when the winds rise and the rains rail against the shell of your souls? You are clinging to nothing if you cling to people. And dare you cling to their promises? You might as well cling to the fragrant petals of a wild Cherokee Rose. Hold on tight, now. Your grass will become brittle and flake within your grasp, and your flower will wilt and melt into nothing more than its perfume. What then will you cling to? When you cling to my decrees, then you are clinging to hope. When I, the Lord decree something it is forever. Go now to the nearest mountain and cry out. Don't be afraid or embarrassed or ashamed to shout out my introduction. "Here is your God." Here is your God! I will tell you who I AM. I AM a victorious warrior. I AM sovereign--don't miss this. I AM sovereign--there is not a thing, NOT ONE SINGLE thing in your life that somehow slipped beyond my grasp. And I am a warrior whose military power is greater than every nuclear bomb and hidden stronghold in the world. Greater. And I AM a shepherd who does not neglect his flock. Do you understand me? I'll never neglect you. I will tend, I will gather, I will carry and I will lead, but I will never ever neglect my flock. I AM your Shepherd when you need me and when you don't. I'm still there. It is I who measured out the waters of earth in the very hollow of my hand and it was I who measured the sky with precision. I weighed the soil of the earth on which you toil and I hold the mountains and the hills in balance. Do you think gravity is merely a scientific term? You need to know that I invented, formed, created gravity--it is nothing more than the inhaling and exhaling of my power. Can you internalize what I am telling you? These are the decrees, the truths you hold to when skies are clear and when they are grey, and these truths will not change. No one teaches me. No one instructs me. I am never in need of assistance or directions. You will never find an accurate earthly comparison to me because there is NONE like me. No. Not even one! There will be those who seek the golden faces of some idol but in time they will discover it is silent when they cry out. In time they will discover it is still when they plead for help. In time they will discover it's heart is stone when their grief overwhelms them. But, I am the one who stretched out the sky like a curtain and it is I who pitched it like a tent above you. Can you see that I gave it to you like a picture of how my sovereignty covers your very life? I reduce rulers to nothing. There is no country or ruler that bares any significance apart from me. Don't you see that when you fear who will rule your nation I am calmly orchestrating the events on earth as they play out in the timeline of eternity? And if you thought for a brief moment that you could compare me to someone--maybe just some small resemblance I would call out to you, "Not even close. I am HOLY. I am set apart, different and unlike any other." It was I who created and named every heavenly light and there is not one that is missing though you may not see them. Now, tell me, created one, why is it that you say, "The Lord is not concerned with me?" Allow me now to tell you with emphatic intensity, "I AM concerned. I AM the eternal God, the Creator of the entire earth and I AM not tired. I AM not weary. There is no limit to my wisdom. And I AM concerned with you. I will give strength to those who are tired and I will renew the energy of the man who has become weak. There is no man or woman who will not one day find themselves weary or stumbling and I AM there. I AM present. I AM ready to give strength to those who wait for me. When you wait for my intervention it will be as if you were swept up into the heavens on the wingspan of the mighty eagle. Those who wait on the Holy God of Israel will run through the mountains and the hills and the valleys. They will walk without falling. This, child, this, is who I AM. And this, child, will not change. For this you can be grateful both today and tomorrow no matter what that day brings. And so when scripture exclaims, "This is your God" I respond with "Yes, this is my God. The I AM. And it is for Him that I offer thanks today." Amen. (And Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours--may you offer thanks today for the meat of things.)

Stay For a While

I can't remember when I stopped singing lullabies to the boys. It had to of happened sometime since our move to Georgia, but I can't place the point in time. It never would have been a conscious decision, of that I am sure. I would sing them lullabies for the remainder of their days of they would permit me. Was it when I took that job at the preschool and came home so exhausted that I could barely keep my eyes open much less manage a stanza of some sweet melody? Maybe it was during the summer when they were staying up so late that sleep just seemed to drift over all of us at various intervals without a great deal of forethought? But the other night the realization washed over me like the rain that has poured over us the last few days after long drought--I haven't been singing to the boys. I wondered if they would even want me to sing again. After all, I am the mother of the very child who poked his 9 month old chubby pointing fingers into the holes of his ears when I got a little carried away with O Danny Boy one evening. Maybe they'd outgrown the pitchy scratches of my karaoke quality voice. I risked it. Beginning with my youngest seemed the best choice given that he still likes to be coddled and nuzzled at bedtime in particular. Before I knew it he was making requests and by the time I left the bed of my eldest, I'd sung six songs and both were resting peacefully. How is it possible to forget to sing your own precious little ones a lullaby at bedtime? I'm not guilting over it--they're 8 and almost 6--it isn't that they've been deprived of anything or that they even really still need me to sing to them. But it is such a sweet ritual, a tradition that cushions the ending of a day filled with triumphs and struggles, with hurts and happiness. Last night my husband had a few things to do after giving the kids their Bible time and so I lingered there with nothing else on my agenda. I ended up reading to them for over an hour. We are a reading family and do that quite a bit throughout our day, but generally at night time, I leave them to read by themselves if they wish. Corton, my youngest said, "This is unusual for you, mommy." "What?" I asked him knowing what he was going to say. "You don't usually stay for a very long time and keep reading and reading. I like it." Again, I'm not saying I should read every night for an hour and sing them thirty songs--but somehow we had been missing something and neither the boys nor myself had ever noticed. Somehow in the middle of building a house, managing homeschool, family gatherings, sports and summer holidays I had stopped lingering in my sweet little boys' presence--even if only for a few moments. And they had missed it. And as any momma knows, so had I. I can't help but think about God--how wonderful it is to linger with Him. To sit, to stay, to remain longer than what seems "enough" and just bask in one another's presence is like hot cocoa after shoveling a driveway filled with snow in Ontario. Sometimes I play a worship song that is very meaningful to me on repeat and listen over and over again, allowing it to soak into the dry places in my heart. Other days I take a verse and write it on a sheet of paper. I leave it in a location that I will be in and out of on that particular day. On errand day it goes in my purse or wallet. On a standard day of home school it goes near the computer we use for some of our schooling. If I'm reading a really good book that I am dying to finish, I'll use the verse as my bookmark. I came across one of those slips of paper just the other day and was reminded again of a full month of basking that I did. "The one true God acts in a faithful manner, the Lord's promise is reliable; he is a shield to all who take refuge in him." (II Samuel 22:31) That passage is so packed with power and truth that I am convinced I could live on it for an inconceivable amount of time. The first four words are enough to cause me to pause and ask myself the question: am I living like I believe God is the one true God? Do I believe that He is Supreme over everyone and everything else? Do I treat Him like He is the source of supply for all of our needs? When I need parenting wisdom who is my one true God? When we aren't sure about financial decisions, who is my one true God? When I struggle with some relationship who is my one true God? Where do I run? Lingering doesn't have to mean that I stay still before my Bible for endless hours while the laundry piles high and the children school themselves. Lingering before God is remaining still before Him in my heart. Will you linger with me today? My prayer is that my heavenly Father will never whisper, "This is unusual for you, Sarah." He's so worthy of our time--He is indeed faithful in the midst of every single detail of our lives. He is indeed reliable. When others falter, He remains steady. And He is indeed a shield to all who take refuge--who linger--with Him. Stay a while today.