All Else Fades

I ask my girls to draw the nativity to make ornaments for the tree. Virginia  simply draws a manger and a babe, feels that’s enough to get the point across, then moves on to begin her next picture.

I watch Mary Helen as she carefully draws the manger, then places a frowning baby in it and colors the manger orange.  She picks up a pencil, presses down hard, and draws a tiny Mary and Joseph and three itty bitty wisemen. The babe in the manger seems huge, way larger than the miniature people she has drawn. 

She has never drawn a nativity like this, and we draw one every year.  I wonder why the people are so small, out of perspective, it seems to me.  But then I see what God is showing me, his perspective through hers.   The Christ Child in color, the people fading away because of the bright orange she has colored the huge manger. She colored the one that is color, the one that is life, the one that gives us both.

Shouldn’t he be what stands out? Shouldn’t all else fade away?

I think of Mary and Joseph and the wisemen afar bringing gifts.  Wisemen afar… their gifts just part of a plan.  Mary, the carrier of the Christ child.  Joseph, the human father who provided for him.  They were part of the story, but they were not the story. He was the story, the Word who became flesh. Why not draw the Christ Child larger?

Father, do I focus more on my part of the story, on what I can do for you,  than on what you did for me?  Do I focus more on what I can give,  the ways I can carry Christ, than on Christ himself?  I am a Mary, a carrier of Christ, but would I draw myself larger than you, Jesus?  Make my part of your story bigger than your love, bigger than your heart lying in a manger.   

I ask Mary Helen why baby Jesus is frowning, and she says, “All babies cry when they are born.”  And she reminds me that He was flesh, fully God and fully human, reminds me that he cried, and hungered, and had human needs. Reminds me that he was cold and had to be swaddled when God clothed himself with human flesh?  Do I really understand what that means for me?  Do I really know the love that came down? Am I so focused on my part of the story that I forget about his love, forget that he swaddles me with it,  like the tissue wrapped around the clothespin Jesus in the manger Katie made at school.

  
The girls reenact the manger scene  in a game of charades by the fire. They turn the lights down low and assume their roles.   My youngest Katie is Jesus.  The older two roll out a blanket and tell her to lie down.  They swaddle her and attempt her to hold her in their arms.  But she kicks her arms and legs, resists the swaddling in all her busyness and says, "I don't need any covers,"  and they laugh and call her the run away Jesus.   But I know why she flails and resists the swaddling, because there is something in my heart  that resists his love, that resists the intimacy, is scared somehow it will restrain.   But the swaddling is what calms a baby, God whispers, is what makes them know they are safe, is what lets the world know they are loved.  

A baby unswaddled was a baby abandoned in Jesus’s day.  So Father, you sent Mary to swaddle your son, to care for the Christ child until it was time for him to be unswaddled, undressed, and forsaken so that I could be swaddled in you, clothed with your garments of salvation and your righteousness.   So that I could be cradled in your arms like the hay and the wood and the arms that cradled Jesus. 


So maybe Christmas is not about whether we give or get but about whether our hearts are swaddled in you.   Whether we know the love that came down as flesh, whether we see the Christ Child as ALL so that all else fades away.  Whether we know that Jesus is the color and joy of our life, the love that propels us to give his away.  And maybe it’s not about how much we give or keep or spend or not spend, but about whether your love propels it all.

Father, let us give because you gave your love to us, because you become greater and we become less.  We are part of your story, but we are not your story.  Jesus is the story, the beginning and the end.  Let us know his love that came down and clothed us, and let that love propel us to clothe others with the love of Christ this Christmas and always...In Jesus’ Name.  Amen

Salt on Shackles

6 x 6Matthew 5:13 You are the salt of the earth.  But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?  It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled by men.  

I stroll down the streets of Charleston, passing hundreds of beautifully preserved homes, most of them with workmen on porches. Homeowners preserving, constantly fighting decay. Paint chipping, wood rotting, iron and metal rusting from the warm salt air. The word "salt" keeps running through my mind, and I wonder how salt can preserve and tenderize meat, yet rust through the iron and metal adorning these homes. I think of the immense cost in preserving these historic homes, and I am reminded that there is cost in being salt, in being a preserver of good, of the things of God.


I think of my sister who is in college, spending the next four years here, and I am reminded she will pay a price for being salt. I think of how she is living her life, giving so much of her time to Young Life, preserving the hearts of teenagers, adding flavor at a crucial point in their lives. Giving back what she has been given. Preserving her own heart in the process.

As I continue walking, I pass churches on street corners, and pray they are preserving the hearts of their people the way they have preserved the outside of their building. I pass a building where an Episcopal Church once gathered, where God's people once sat in pews and worshipped. I glance at the sign above the beautiful stained glass windows that reads "Bar and Grill", and I ask myself, "Did someone let go? Did someone stop preserving? Did someone decide not to be salt?"

I walk toward the white porch of an antebellum home with an iron table and chairs chained to the porch railing. I wonder who stole the first one. I wonder what that did to the heart of the homeowner, to the heart of the thief. The homeowner is determined not to let go, not to let the thief deprive him of his right to sit on his porch, to enjoy his life. He chains, shackles to his porch what is rightfully his. Preserving his way of life. Preserving his freedom.

I stroll into a knitting shop tucked away on a corner. My eyes feast on baskets of colorful yarn and beautifully knitted scarves and hats. Women are gathered in a cozy room, their hands and needles moving quickly and quietly as they form rows of stitches. Hands knitting while knitting hearts together. One woman is knitting teddy bears for children with AIDS in Afghanistan, another a shawl for her granddaughter, another a shawl for her home. Hands knitting. Hands preserving the heart of an AIDS stricken child. Hands preserving the heart of a granddaughter. Hands preserving the heart of a knitting woman through the warmth of a shawl and the gathering of women. Hands pouring salt with their gifts and talents.

I walk toward a building with a large sign that reads, "Preservation Society", and I think of the church. Is that what we are called to be, Lord? A preservation society, preservers of the hearts of your people, so that we can be the flavor of Christ, so that the world can taste of you.

I pass by the Gullah women weaving baskets at the old slave market, a gift to the slaves, a place for them to sell goods after they gained their freedom. And I am reminded that there is another slave market a few blocks away, where the hands and feet of men were once shackled and sold. An auction block for men.

I wonder what those shackles did to the hearts of those who wore them and to the hearts of those who placed them on. And I am reminded that salt stood up to those who shackled. Salt stood up to those who could not see that the freedom they were stealing was also stealing their own. Salt preserved the hearts of those enslaved and those who would have been, prevented the decay of hearts, the heart of the shackled and the shackler.

I walk by an art gallery where a sign reads, "Women in Art; Breaking Down Barriers." I am intrigued by the title, and I think of this woman in art, and I wonder will my art, my life, my love, break down barriers to the gospel. Will I be salt that rusts through metal, that breaks down shackles, that sets God's people free?  Will I be salt that preserves the good in this generation, making hearts more tender to receive the gospel? Will my words, my actions, my thoughts, be as salty as my paint and my ink?

"You are the salt of the earth," I hear him whisper over and over. Be salt on shackles that threaten to steal freedom from your children, from your husband, from your loved ones, from your generation and the next.

And know there are times I will call you to shackle. Like the homeowner, who chained his furniture to his porch, you must chain to your heart the things of Me, my word, my truths, my ways. You must hold onto, shackle to your heart what I have freely given you, what is rightfully yours.

Rusting through shackles and shackling what is good all at the same time. Rusting and preserving, while adding flavor to a world that views the Christian life as colorless and bland. You must allow those in your influence to taste of me, to know the flavor of Christ, to feel your love acting as salt on shackles, to feel my love, the only love that truly rusts through and preserves all at the same time.

And as I pour you out, your own heart will be preserved in the process, not sheltered from hardship or pain, but preserved. My salt will rust your own shackles as you allow me to use you for my purposes, for a saltier life.

So this is how we guard our hearts, Father, not by building walls around them, but by letting you pour us out to a broken and hurting world? Father, would you equip me to be salt on shackles? Would you rust, peel away from my heart the things that are not of you, the unloving ways that only tighten shackles. The freedom I steal from others that also steals my own and causes me to lose sight of the truth that I am salt.

I am the salt of the earth. A ruster. A preserver. A bringer of flavor to a bland and decaying earth. An otherwise colorless piece of dust except for the flavor of Christ within me. Pour me out, Lord. Pour me out. Pour me out. Let my art, my writing, my life, my love be nothing but a way for others to taste of you. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Preserver of All Things Good

10 x 10Matthew 5:13 "You are the salt of the earth..."

Salt.. 1. A colorless or white solid chiefly used as a food seasoning and preservative. 2. An element that gives flavor or zest

You are the salt of the earth. Jesus says. A seasoning. A preservative. The flavor of Christ. You are the preserver of all things good, the preventer of moral decay. Salt, a preserver of food that nourishes our bodies. Me, You. Preservers of good things that nourish souls.

What am I called to preserve in this lifetime you have given me? Hearts, I hear. The hearts of my children, the heart of my husband, the hearts of family and friends, my own heart. How do I guard these hearts you have entrusted to me? Remind your children, your husband, yourself who they are and whose they are. Keep truth always before you.

Be proactive, I hear God say. Salt is not passive. Salt is aggressive in its preserving, in its pulling water out of meat so that it will not spoil. It has a job to do, is active in its fight against decay. It draws out those things that will spoil what is good, removes the elements that allow decay to creep in.

Father, let me be active in preserving the things in this world that are good, your Word, your truths, your ways. Is that what these paintings are Lord? Preservers of truth. Salt to my children, your children, a way for them to see that a life in Christ is joy and color and life. A seasoning to go with your word, the good food you have given us. A way to preserve their hearts, instilling truth to keep decay from setting in.

As I paint and write, I see you working, Lord, removing the elements in my own heart that could bring about the decay of your children’s hearts. Control, impatience, my always rushing, my desire for approval… Remove these Lord, that I may better preserve hearts. Make me saltier, Father, that my loved ones would taste of you. I pray that my love, your love, would seep deep down into the meat of their hearts, making them more tender to the truths of the gospel.

Thank you for your patience and your grace in my unsalty moments. Teach me to walk in the truth of who I am, your salt being poured out over the earth, preserving and adding flavor. Keep that truth at the center of my heart like the salt shaker that sits at the center of my table. Keep reminding me of who I am and whose I am. The salt of the earth, chosen salt to be poured out to accomplish your purposes.

I am the salt of the earth. Let me live as though that were true...

In the name of Jesus. Amen

Spirit

10 x 10

2 Corinthians 5:16-17 From now on, therefore, we regard no one anyone according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.

Katie’s eyes filled with delight as she spied a butterfly flitting in the distance. Jumping out of the swing, she ran to get the insect cage, and off we went chasing the butterfly. We walked back and forth along a tall hedge of bushes attempting to find the butterfly sitting still long enough to gently place our hands around her and transport her to the cage. She landed on some leaves directly in front of us and quickly danced out of reach.

Looking down toward the leaves of the hedge, I saw what this butterfly used to be, a spiny caterpillar, moving slowly along a leaf, chewing holes in the foliage. Her only mission seemed to be consumption, and the result of that consumption, the destruction of God’s beauty, the leaf on which she crawled.

There were 5 or 6 of these caterpillars crawling and eating nearby, so we turned our efforts toward catching them instead of the elusive butterfly. We caught several of them and put them in the cage with a few of the leaves on which they had been living. We then placed them inside on the kitchen counter hoping that they would perhaps form their chrysalis.

After several days of eating and consuming leaves, one by one, they attached themselves to the top of the cage, shed their skin one last time, and formed their chrysalis as if it was just a regular part of their day.

How could this seemingly unintelligent worm who has spent the entirety of her life crawling and eating all of a sudden know that its time to form her chrysalis? How does she know to suspend herself upside down? I wonder if she knows that the shedding of her flesh that one last time will bring about the new skin underneath which forms the chrysalis.Does she know what is happening to her, what she is to become? Does she know the beauty that will come forth?

Once a tiny egg on a leaf, the caterpillar was born into this world. Now, inside another womb, she waits to be born again. She emerges, rainbows of color spilling out as she pushes her wings through the opening in the chrysalis. Beauty pouring forth from the caterpillar’s tomb, from the butterfly’s womb.

I see the velvety colors, the freshly formed wings, the perfect formation of spots and markings that spill out of the butterfly’s womb. Color bursting forth. A new creation, a display of God’s splendor, a dancing painting in the form of a fly. Wings smooth as butter, reflecting the light of the sun. Dancing, twirling, flitting, free.

Does she know she is an entirely new creature? Does she know how beautiful she has become? Somehow, she knows she is meant to fly. She makes her way to the edge of the cage door and pumps her wings, preparing them for her first flight, her ascent into the heavens.

Flitting, dancing, she takes off, and enters her new world. A world with a new perspective. From the heavens looking down. The weight of her flesh gone, consumption and destruction left for better days. She moves on to live a life of purpose, spending her life pollinating and causing things to grow. Bearing fruit instead of boring holes. Bringing glory instead of taking it. Bringing forth blooms for God’s children, for me.

The fleshy, weighty caterpillar gone. I no longer see her as I gaze upon the fly. Only the evidence of her last molt, a shroud like Jesus’, left near her tomb. She has a new name, the butterfly. I do not define her by who she used to be. She is now a flier, a flitter of the heavens, a reflection of God’s glory. A resurrected being. A new creation.

Even her mouth is gone, transformed into a spout used for drinking. A straw for sucking nectar, the sweet substance that the pagans once called the “drink of the Gods”. A whole new diet. Only drinking nectar as sweet as honey. She flits from flower to flower, sucking nectar and tasting with her feet. Tasting to find the best place to reproduce, and as she tastes, she carries pollen, causing blooms to come forth.

Like the caterpillar, Christ hung and was transformed into glory. No longer regarded as flesh. His flesh gone, vanished from the tomb, and then resurrected back to life. Like the butterfly, He ascended into the heavens, but left us his promised spirit. Christ’s tomb. God’s womb. Life bursting forth out of the death and resurrection of a man. Your life. My life.

I hung on his cross and allowed him to crucify the woman I used to be. My own wings emerged from God’s womb, spilling out color and life. Out of my mother’s womb one summer in late July and out of God’s womb in a more wintry season of life. A new creation. A walking painting in the form of a girl. God’s masterpiece created to do good works. No longer regarded as flesh. Born again, leaving a life of consuming, of devouring, of self-focus. But do I live as though that were true?

You are spirit, I hear God say. You are no longer flesh. Caterpillar days are gone. Leave behind those days where you bore holes in hearts, trying to fill the hunger inside, the emptiness, the holes in your own heart that only I could make whole. Do not meditate on what you are not, taking back on the habits of a creature I have crucified.

Drink my living water, my sweet nectar that feeds your soul and reminds you of who you are. You are a pollinator, a bringer of life. A lighter freer creature, meant for flying, not crawling, meant for bringing blooms not boring holes.

I have seated you in the heavenlies and given you a new home. I have given you wings for flying, for reflecting the light of the Son. I have given you feet that taste where I am working. Feet that bring pollen. Feet that bring good news.

Father, why have I so often lived my days as if I am still the worm? Why do I focus on the caterpillar instead of the beauty of the fly? Give me a new perspective, your perspective, from the heavens looking down. Open my eyes to see your beauty and your spirit in myself and others even when it is buried deep within the flesh. Use these wings and feet to bring good news, to bring forth joy and color and life.

How long have I pumped these wings to prepare for the ascent? I sit on the edge of the cage as you strengthen my wings. Strength and courage welling up from you, only you, Father. It is unfamiliar, this new world, too free almost.The cage beckons, calling me back to safety, to what I know. But the whisper of my Father is clearer, louder than the lies coming from the cage. Fly, I hear him say. The wings I have given you will carry you.

And as he peels my feet from the edge of the cage, I feel him whispering over and over, You are spirit. You are spirit. You are spirit. No longer regard yourself according to the flesh. The old has gone. The new has come…

In the mighty name of Jesus. Amen

Fisher of Men

16 x 20

Not for Sale
Mark 1:17 ....and I will make you fishers of men...

I know a man who loves to fish. He has spent most of his life fishing for something. Fishing for bass. Fishing for brim. Fishing for men. Fishing for the fish God placed in his waters, his friends, his employees, his wife, and his children. Most importantly to me, he fished for his sons, one of whom happens to be my beloved husband. He taught his sons how to be men, how to care for their wives and families, how to put family first, how to endure hardship, and how to go to work and make a living. He taught them what was most important in life.

He didn't just fish with his sons, he fished for his sons. He taught them the ways of the Lord simply by walking in the ways of the Lord. He did not fish with fancy lures or fancy rods, just with a pure hearted devotion to the Lord and his family. He raised a son, who by watching his father fish, not only learned to catch bass and brim, but also the souls of his wife and children. My husband did not save me. Jesus did. But along the way, he used the fishing of a father who instilled fishing in his son, to help turn my eyes to the only One who saves.

I am forever grateful to this family of fishermen, especially my husband who is by far the most patient one I know. He caught me on a fishing dock on Lake Oliver where he kneeled and asked me to marry him. That day, he decided I was a "keeper," but I imagine he didn't have a clue how complex this fish could be. He has often sat patiently with his line in the water, his prayers laid before the Lord, waiting for Him to work in my life. And he has persevered, endured, and loved me in the waiting. He has been the representation of Christ, a fisher of men in our marriage. A fisherman who does not abandon his line because God's timing looks a little different than his own. A fisherman equipped to patiently fish for his wife and children.

So thank you to the "fisher of men" in this painting, for the fishing you did for your son. In a way, you were also fishing for me and for my children. You are a blessing, and I am forever grateful for all the lines you have cast our way.

Mark 1:17 "...and I will make you fishers of men..."

Tricycle Training

24 x 24

Sold
Proverbs 22:6 Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

Tricycle Training

SoldProverbs 22:6 Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it.

My two-year could barely reach the pedals of her shiny, new tricycle. Tiptoed, she pushed with the soft bottoms of her feet, first forwards, then backwards. I cupped the top of her small foot under my hand, guiding it in a circle, teaching, training her in the way she should move the pedals. I let go, allowing her to try it herself. Again, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, not gaining any ground. She would begin to move her foot in a circle the way I had shown her, but at the first feel of resistance, she quickly changed directions and pushed backwards. Then at the point she met resistance again, she would push forward again. Click. Clack. Backwards. Forwards. Backwards. Forwards.

All three of my children began their tricycle training this way. Not one climbed on and naturally pushed the pedals in a continuous motion. Each one seemed confused by the unfamiliar resistance in the beginning. But as I continued to guide their feet through the resistance, they learned to push through it. Over time, their small feet grew accustomed to the motion required to move the tricycle forward. It became second nature, a motion that was produced naturally with little thought involved. Since learning, none of my children have forgotten how to pedal a tricycle or bike. It is now a part of them, a simple skill they will most likely carry with them the rest of their lives.

My Father has been teaching me to ride my own shiny, new tricycle, the tricycle of keeping my thoughts in line with his. My feet can barely reach the pedals, and often my feet feel too weak to push through the unfamiliar resistance. My Father cups the top of my small foot under his hand and gently, lovingly pushes, showing me the correct way, guiding me in the fluid motion necessary to move forward.

I feel the resistance, the battle we all face in the Christian walk, and like my own children, the resistance startles me. It feels too hard, too daunting, too unfamiliar. I am tempted to switch directions, and often it feels as if I am gaining no ground. Click. Clack. Backwards. Forwards. Backwards. Forwards.

“You have three wheels carrying you,” he says, “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” but you must allow me to teach you to move your feet in a fluid motion. You must pedal, choosing my ways over your ways. Over and over and over. You must choose to focus on what I have given to you rather than what I have not. You must choose to say 'thank you, Lord for my daily bread,' instead of seeing your food as one more meal to prepare. You must choose to thank Me that your children are able to speak your name rather than resenting that “Mom” has been said 50 times in the last minute. You must choose to thank Me that your children have clothes rather than nagging them for forgetting to put them in the hamper one more time. You must choose to thank Me for the lessons your children are learning rather than losing heart when they fail, when they cannot seem to push past the resistance of their flesh.

All day long, “taking thoughts captive” one by one. I have a love hate relationship with the taking thoughts captive verse. I used to think I hated it because it was sort of a Christianese phrase, quoted at every bible study, and quite frankly, I grew tired of hearing it. But really I think it bothers me because it exposes how far my heart and mind are from doing that very thing, "taking thoughts captive to the obedience of Christ." Do we not seem to treat with contempt what we feel like we cannot do?

The truth is, though, I cannot do it, not on my own. I need the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit carrying me, rolling me forward in truth. I need the hand of my loving Father cupped over my foot gently pushing, gently reminding, gently replacing lies and discontent with truth. Push me through the resistance, Father.

The Lord is training me in the way that I should go, while I am training my children in the way they should go. He is molding my rebellious heart as I mold my children’s rebellious hearts. My training is part of theirs, in fact, essential to theirs. The lessons I am learning are the lessons I will be teaching, and it is imperative that my heart be teachable if I am to train them in a godly way.

My children need my hand gently guiding their feet in the way they should go. What they do not need is their mother standing over them, wondering why in the world they cannot seem to get it, losing heart when the resistance pushes them backwards yet once again.. They need love, a gentle hand pushing and guiding, filling them with the truths that My Father is using to mold my own heart.

And they need to know that I am at their side, that like Jesus, I am for them, not against them, that I am pushing along side them, encouraging and nurturing them. They need me to humbly crouch down, cup my hand over their foot, and guide it in a continual fluid motion, teaching them the ways of the Lord, over and over and over. And when they finally begin to roll forward when they learn to push through the resistance, they need me to gently place my hand on their back, nudging, encouraging, and steering them in the ways of the Lord.

Father, my parenting often looks far different than this picture of tricycle training. Teach me to be like you, Jesus. Train me to think like you and see like you and live like you. I feel your love. I feel your patience. Let my children feel it too. Train up this child in the way that I should go so that I may train my children in the way they should go.

Thank you, Father, for this shiny new tricycle. Thank you for teaching me. And thank you for the joy and freedom that lies on the other side of the training.

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6

In Jesus' Name. Amen

Serve

Sold1 Peter 4:10 Each one should us whatever gift he has received to serve others...

My mother commissioned this painting to give to my younger sister's high school tennis coach as a thank you gift from the team. Her coach, Mary Lynn Cumiskey, was also my tennis coach in high school. Anyone who has ever been a part of her team would tell you what a blessing she is. This painting brought back many memories from hours spent on the tennis court with her, and I am so thankful for her part in my life. She had such a knack for making tennis fun and joyful while at the same time using her gift to serve others. Thank you, Mrs. Cumiskey for all your hard work throughout the years, for your dedication to your players, and for loving and serving each one of us through the gifts God has given you.

The Molt

12 x 12

Sold

Hebrews 12:1 ...let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin so that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

A crab’s life is a continual cycle of growing and molting. The crab’s body grows too large for his shell. The shell hinders him, restricts him, keeps him from moving freely, from being all that he was designed to be. His constricting shell steals his speed so that he is unable to outrun predators. He must molt, over and over and over throughout his life.

As he prepares to molt, his shell begins to dissolve, growing thinner and thinner. Salts are gradually pulled from the old shell, then recycled and stored in the body. A new soft inner shell is forming, growing underneath the existing shell.

As the shedding begins, he becomes stressed and vulnerable, an easy target for his predators. He must find a safe place, a refuge of sorts to make his exit out of his constraining shell. He isolates himself and prepares to molt. Rapidly absorbing large amounts of water, the tissues in his body swell, putting pressure on the old shell.

The shell slowly cracks open along the fracture planes, and he begins the slow arduous process of backing out of his old shell. He discards the shell and again, pumps his body full of water, inflating the soft vulnerable shell to its new size. The salts absorbed from the old shell are redeposited into the new shell causing it to thicken.

His shell will not harden unless he is submerged in water, so he remains underwater, waiting patiently until it thickens and hardens his shell. He can then withstand attacks from his enemies and is able to move more freely than before. He reenters his environment, and shortly thereafter, the process will begin all over again. A lifetime of growing and molting. Such is the life of a crab.

“Let us throw off everything that hinders,” Paul says, “and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perserverance the race marked out for us.” Let me cast off this shell that burdens me and hinders my growth and movement. “It is time to grow,” God says. “Time to let go of the lies you have believed for so long. Do you really believe my words are true about you? You believe the words about Me but do you believe the words about you? Time to let go of the doubts that limit your growth and keep you from running full speed ahead toward me.”

The question God asks is “Do you really want to grow? Do you really want to cast aside the old shell?" Yes, I do Lord but the process, the process seems too long and arduous. It’s comfortable yet constricting here in this old shell. I know this way. What is this feeling that makes me want to stay here, the feeling that brings the fear of change when I know I cannot grow without it. My flesh wants to hang on to the old shell, to what is familiar but stifling. I feel stuck at times, unable to back out of the old shell.

So I get away with you, Lord. I sit in quiet, seeking, waiting for you to do your work. “Wait for the Lord”, I hear. “Be strong and of good courage. Do not lose heart." You remind me of your Word, you pump me full of living water, of your words, of your beautiful truths about me and about you. My heart swells. The shell cannot withstand the pressure. The fracture planes break in my hardened shell, and I begin the arduous climb out. Backward climbing, not forward climbing. Unable to see where I am stepping, you assure me it is safe. I trust you, Father.

My shell underneath is soft, vulnerable, not yet conditioned for the darts of the world, not yet strong enough to withstand the attacks from the enemy. So I remain in living water, trusting your timing, Father. Waiting. Waiting. Hiding in you Lord.

“Remain in me,” You whisper. Your shell will not thicken if you do not." I wait for the shell to solidify, for the truths to sink deep into the recesses of my heart. Your timing Lord, not mine.

"Nothing has been wasted," God says. "Those truths you learned even from your failures, have not been discarded with the old shell. Only that which you no longer need to grow is gone. The rest I am recycling, using what seemed like waste to bring about something new." Old salts pulled from the old shell, stored up to thicken the new. A salty shell. The flavor of Christ. Truths learned through brokenness. The making of all things new. Thicken this shell, this breastplate of righteousness, Lord. Thicken those truths and give me bold confidence to run full speed ahead with you. I taste the joy and freedom on the other side of the molt.

Father, let me accept this continual process of molting and growing. Let me embrace even the pain involved because, Lord, I know that you are achieving something far greater than my eyes can see. “Let me throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let me run with perseverance the race marked out for me. “ It is for my good and for your glory.” In Jesus Name. Amen

The Humongous Fungus Among Us

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Genesis 1:28 And God blessed them and said unto them, "Be fruitful and multiply..."

All thy works with joy surround thee,

earth and heaven reflect thy rays,

stars and angels sing around thee,

center of unbroken praise.

Field and forest, vale and mountain,

flowery meadow, flashing sea,

chanting bird and flowing fountain,

call us to rejoice in thee.”

As the writer of “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee” so beautifully states, all of nature should “call us to rejoice” in our Creator. Every one of his creations should direct our hearts toward our loving Father, the God who created the universe. His divine creations are simply reflections of himself and often have a way of teaching us the way his kingdom operates. If we look closely, his organisms and creatures usually have somewhat of a story to tell, a parable of sorts that directs our eyes to the One who created them.

A few years ago, a teaching on the harvest at a local ministry inspired me to study the life cycle of mushrooms. Strange, yes, I know, but through those studies, God impressed upon my heart a beautiful analogy of our purpose on this earth and the way God’s kingdom grows.

The fungi that is the life source of mushrooms usually grow underground in a weblike pattern and may stretch for hundreds of feet in all directions. In fact, it has been learned that in some places, the underground network of fungi may form the largest living thing on the planet.

Mushrooms are simply the fruiting bodies of that underground, unseen fungus. They are the only visible evidence that the underlying fungus exists. Their true purpose is to spread spores to enable the fungus to establish new colonies of mushrooms. When the conditions of the environment are right, when ample moisture is present, the fungus soaks up the water like a sponge, giving the mushroom opportunity to grow so that it may spread spores and multiply.

Upon maturing, the mushroom begins to focus solely on reproduction rather than consumption. The reproductive seeds or spores of the fungus are located on the underside of the mushroom cap inside the gills. Until maturity, the underside of the mushroom cap is covered by a veil, which prevents the spores from being released. As the mushroom matures, the cap grows larger, stretching the veil, until it finally breaks, releasing millions of spores of which only a few will germinate. If the conditions are right, the spores create new mushrooms, and the whole cycle is repeated, creating a multiplying effect. The main purpose of the mushroom is to multiply itself in order to enlarge its community and expand the territory of the fungus.

The first recorded words that God spoke to man in the book of Genesis were, “Be fruitful and multiply…” From the very beginning of the human race, God meant for us to be a multiplying community, not just physically, but spiritually as well. We are the fruiting bodies of the underlying, unseen kingdom of God, and God created us to be the visible evidence to others that the kingdom of God exists.

As we take in the moisture of God, the truths of his word, we grow and mature in the knowledge of Him, causing us to grow and break through the veil that keeps us from bearing fruit, the lie that our lives and our salvation are about us. Like the mushroom, a sign of maturity in us is when we begin to focus more on reproduction rather than consumption. We begin to focus more on what we can give to the body of Christ rather than what we can receive.

As we mature in Him, we begin to empty ourselves of the seeds that have been planted in our life, the truths God has taught us along the way, so that those truths will not terminate on us, but will fall to the ground, take root and multiply in the lives of our neighbors.

The purpose of most fungi is to take dead organic material and turn it into living nutrients that sustain other organisms. Jesus has taken our dead hearts and made them alive so that, for his glory, they can be used to bring others to Him by providing the nutrients that our neighbors need. Thank you, Father, for all those that God has used to provide the nutrients I have needed in each step of my journey. I pray those nutrients would not dead end on me, but would be released into the lives of others, nourishing the hearts of those God puts in my path.

Father I pray that you would cause us to break through the veil, and release the seeds of truth which you have grown in us into the environments in which we have influence. Some of those seeds will germinate and some will not; nevertheless, God has chosen us to be the visible evidence of the Kingdom of God in those places. So let us go, “be fruitful, and multiply,” teaching others the truths of the gospel that God has so graciously planted within us.

Lamp unto my Feet

Not for SalePsalm 119:105 Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

Good News Shoes

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Romans 10:15 How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.

Shelter from the Storm

8 x 10

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Isaiah 25:4 You have been a...shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat.

My two year old, Katie, has never been a huge fan of the drive through car wash. I am not sure of their technical name, but the hanging carpet like strips and the sprayers that rinse the soap, must in her little mind, resemble a giant monster threatening to engulf our car. Not long ago, the car had gone a while without a wash and with three young children as passengers, it was desperate for a washing. That particular day, without my wits about me, I gave Katie the option of going or staying home. She seems to cling to me like velcro so I suppose the desire to be with Mom outweighed the fear of the Loch Ness car wash. I thought perhaps she had outgrown her fear, so we loaded up and headed toward the car wash.

She gave herself a few pep talks on the way attempting to convince herself that she was no longer scared of the car wash. "Me no scared car wash, Mommy?" she asked over and over. I assured her that there was nothing to be scared of and that she was safe in the car with me. As we pulled into the line though, her banter quickly changed to "No me go car wash, Mommy!" and she began to kick her legs and flail her arms. "No me go car wash, Mommy! Me go home!" she screamed as she quickly realized that the joy of being with Mom did not outweigh the fear of the car wash after all.

I seriously began questioning my parenting skills at this point and wondered why in the world I would give a two year old the option of going or staying home. Obviously I should have made that decision for her, but at this point, it was too late as we were already in the line and there was no turning back. The only option at this point was handing her to the car wash attendant and having him meet me on the other side, but that did not seem like a viable option, so I unbuckled her car seat, put her in my lap, and attempted to console her as we got closer and closer to the entrance. We made our way to the front of the line where the attendant stood pointing to a sign that advised us to put our car in neutral, take our foot off the brake, and take our hands off the steering wheel. Katie, certain that he could not possibly know what was best for her, held onto the steering wheel as tightly as she possibly could.

"No me go car wash, Mommy. No me go car wash, Mommy," she continually repeated. I spoke to her loudly over the noises of the car wash and continued to comfort her by explaining that the tentacle like strips could not come through the windshield and that we were safe in the car.

I knew that the car was a place of refuge for us, a bubble of protection from the tentacles and sprayers, and I knew that we would make it safely to the other side of the car wash. But her little two year old mind could not possibly understand that. She watched with eyes wide open as the strips beat relentlessly against the windows, moved back and forth over the windshield, and then disappeared over the back of the car. She was shaking as she moved her head quickly back and forth, waiting to see what the monster would do next.

About the time the sprayers moved into action, she decided that this experience was simply too much to bear, so she took her hands off the steering wheel, turned to face me, clinched my shirt with both hands and buried her head in my chest. It took a few seconds, but as she took her eyes off of the chaos surrounding her, she began to grow quiet, and her body gradually began to relax. She finally felt confident that she was safe in my arms.

We continued on through the sprayers and the drier, exited the car wash, and moved toward the vacuums. Sunlight flooded the car upon our exit, and Katie began to smile again saying, "No me scared car wash, Mommy?" As I parked my car and stepped out to begin vacuuming, something on the ground caught my eye. There was a thin plastic shrinky-dink-like rainbow that must have escaped the vacuum of a previous customer. Although it seemed somewhat unsanitary to pick up someone else's trash, for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to throw it away so I put it in my console and began vacuuming.

The rainbow took my thoughts to Noah and the ark. Just as I knew Katie was safe in my arms in the car in the midst of the chaos, God knew Noah was safe in his ark in the midst of the forty day storm. Noah was required to do nothing except build the ark and get in. The rest of the journey his boat was in neutral being carried by God to a place of safety. He did not have a rudder nor a steering wheel to hold onto. The only thing God gave him to hold onto was his faith in the God who created the storm.

I tend to think of the Old Testament figures as somewhat superhuman, but in reality Noah was no different than you or I. His faith was no stronger than yours or mine. My guess is he had moments of fear like Katie. I imagine in the worst of the forty day storm his thoughts must have been "Will the storm engulf me? Did I build this thing right? What if I messed up the dimensions? Will this be the wave that takes us under? Will this storm ever end?" In the midst of the sea, Noah had a choice just like we do. He could choose to focus on the storm and the what ifs or he could choose to turn, just as Katie did toward me in the car, and cling to God with all his might, trusting God to carry him to dry land. Noah did just that, and God delivered him from the storm just as He had promised and then set a rainbow in the sky promising to never flood the earth again.

Often, more like Katie and less like Noah, I sit with hands on the steering wheel, moving my head back and forth staring at the circumstances of life coming toward me. I lose faith that the car is a refuge, that God is carrying me. I want to ignore the advice of the One who says to me, "Put your car in neutral, take your foot off the brake and your hands off the steering wheel." I don't want to walk through the difficult things. I want to turn around and, like Katie, say to God "No me go car wash, Daddy!" But there is no turning the steering wheel as hard as I try, and to put on the brake would only prolong my time in the car wash, so at some point I must surrender, turn my face towards God, bury my head in his chest, and cling to him with all my might. I am forced to trust him in the midst of the circumstances and have faith that on the other side of the car wash, there is sunlight and a shrinky dink rainbow. There is hope in the midst of the storm because we know that the rainbow will come, and it will not be a shrinky dink one, but a huge and powerful promise that God is with us.

Just as Noah's storm cleansed the earth and the car wash cleanses the car, the trials that come my way have a way of cleansing me, a way of washing away my self sufficiency and forcing me to depend solely on the One who has greater purposes for me and his kingdom. In this life, things may come against our bodies, against our hearts, and against our minds, but instead of focusing on the monster inside the car wash, I must learn to focus on the rainbow on the other side, the promise that my spirit can never be destroyed. I will always pray for deliverance, but I will also pray that God will use whatever trials come my way to bring about greater dependence and wash away my flesh.

Father, cause me to listen to you when you motion to me to put my car in neutral, take my foot off the brake and my hands off the steering wheel. Cause me to trust that you will hold me in the midst of the storm and carry me safely to the other side. Thank you Lord that you use even the most mundane things to teach your children truth. You even designed the car wash to point us to you and bring you glory. Amen

My Household

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Joshua 24:15 ...as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.

Rainbow Angel

9 x 12

Available for sale

$225

Psalm 91:11 He will command his angels concerning you...

Healing In Its Wings

Malachi 4:2 But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. And you will go out and leap like calves released from the stall.

This painting is my prayer for one of my childhood friends who recently lost her husband. She has two precious girls, named Nancy and Frances, who are 3 and 1, respectively. The morning before her husband passed away, Jarrell asked a friend to call to ask me to pray for her husband. I did not completely understand the gravity of the situation at the time. I only knew that she had asked me to pray, so I simply prayed for her husband to get well. The phrase "healing in its wings" kept running through my thoughts. I knew I had heard that phrase in scripture somewhere before but could not seem to place it. Although, I was not completely clear on what the phrase meant, I prayed that God would bring "healing in [his] wings." As dusk came though, her husband had only grown progressively worse.

I sat down to have a quick meal with my family before heading to the hospital to visit her. We have a small wooden box which belonged to my grandmother that sits in the center of our table. It is called God's Treasure Chest and is filled with small scripture cards which my children and I take turns choosing at meal times. That night, I randomly pulled a scripture card from the middle of the box, only to read the words, "But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings." I almost fell out of my chair as the words rolled off my tongue, as God had just given me the same verse that he had given me that morning.

My hope was that healing would come for her husband on this earth, but he passed away in the early hours of that morning, leaving my friend with two young girls to raise without their father. I am still not completely sure why God brought that scripture to mind and then confirmed it through the treasure chest, but as I prayed through the scripture, this painting is the image He gave me for her precious family.

The calves represent her two girls. I pray that as Nancy and Frances grow, they would know, even in the absence of their father, that they have a heavenly Father who loves them more than any earthly father ever could. They have an amazing God fighting for them and for their loving mother. I pray that every time Jarrell looks at this painting that now hangs in her bedroom, she would feel the love of Christ and know she is never alone. Jesus is with her, and He will rise with healing in his wings. Amen

Butterfly Tunic

24 x 36

Available for Sale

$575

Luke 3:11 Whoever has two tunics should share with him who has none.

I will follow you

Luke 9:57 As they were walking along the road, a man said to [Jesus], "I will follow you wherever you go."

When I was a child, one of our family traditions was quail hunting on winter weekends in south Georgia. We hunted by way of Tennessee walking horses, who for the most part were relatively docile and obedient. The one thing I noticed, though, was that even in the midst of the beautiful open fields and wooded areas, they were always inclined to head back towards the barn. If I let go of the reins and allowed them to steer themselves, their first inclination was not to run away to explore new pastures and fields, but to run straight towards what was comfortable and familiar, the barn.

Often in our walks with Christ, our hearts are similarly inclined. We forego the freedom of the pasture and the adventure in the woods for the comfort and safety of the stall. The horse in the painting above sits at the door of the stall, with halter on and lead nearby, ready to be led by his owner. Unintentionally, this painting turned out to be a picture of humility, a visual reminder of where our hearts should be when it relates to being led by our Savior.

Following Christ does not always feel like the "safest" place to be. The weather can be rough outside of the stall and we may be led to places we do not want to go and do things we do not desire to do, but allowing Christ to lead us out of our "safe places" is, in reality, the safest place for our souls. God is our refuge and our hiding place, not the man made stalls that we build around our hearts to guard them from the weather.

Father, lead me out of the stall. Let my halter always be on, ready to be led by you. Pull me out of my "safe places" and free my heart of the inclination to head back towards the barn. There is no greater adventure and no greater joy than being led by you. Lead me, Lord. "I will follow you wherever you go."

This painting was a birthday commission for a precious ten year old girl named Sally whose passion is horse back riding. Happy Birthday Sally! I pray that you would know that there is no greater adventure than following your Savior. I pray that when you are led into the pastures and forests in your walk with Christ, you would know that you are never alone. Your God is there leading and guiding you every step of the way. In Jesus Name. Amen.

Lord, Light My Path

12 x 16

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This is one of a pair of paintings I did for a woman and her sister who both wear rings that have the phrase, "Lord Light my Path" written on the inside of the ring. She wanted a pair of paintings depicting that phrase, one for her sister and one for herself.

When I think of the Lord lighting my path, I picture myself carrying a lantern that only illuminates what is right in front of me. More often than not, I cannot see what is at the end of the path. I am simply required to take small steps of obedience as he gradually illuminates the ground in front of me.

I painted the three legged stool without really thinking about any significance and then realized afterward that it is actually a neat picture of the Trinity. The three legs are separate but the stool is one, and it is all three parts of the trinity that hold our lantern and light our path. We must know him as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. There is something about it that speaks to me about knowing him fully. Our paths are lighted as we grow in his Word, which causes us to know him more fully as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

I pray for both of these women that God would light their paths and continue to guide and direct them throughout their lives. I pray that as He gradually illuminates their paths, He would give them the courage and strength to take those steps of obedience that God directs them to. And I pray that with each step they would know him more fully as the Father, the Son, and The Holy Spirit.