Throwing Open the Windows

The first day of Spring danced in gloriously this year. Daffodils flashed yellow smiles, the sunlight fell in golden puddles everywhere and the wind blew strong but warm.

I threw open my bedroom window and the fresh air filled the room, creating a beautifully inviting atmosphere.

Throughout the long, cold, dreary winter days the window had stayed shut-
Keeping out the wind. The snow.... the rain... the cold; protecting the inner from the outer.
Keeping me unexposed to the elements.

The sun doesn't shine in all that brightly in the wintertime. Dust collects, a coolness settles over the room, I hear the walls brace when the wind blows hard outside. But it can't get in. The window is shut.

But then when winter dies out and temperatures finally rise, I throw open the windows.
This is the air I want in my room.
This air I will not keep out- or protect myself from.

Thinking of Spring... and wind... and windows.... made me realize something new.

There is a window in my soul. A window that can be opened or shut whenever -however- I choose.

It didn't take very much thinking about soul-windows to realize that mine had been shut.
Inside my soul-room dust had been collecting. The air had been getting kinda stuffy- kinda close.
My soul-room has been in dire need of fresh Air-


The breath of Jesus. The Holy Spirit.
The word of God.

Somehow, somewhere along the lines, I had closed my window to His wind. And I now firmly believe that when I try to protect my inner secret place from the All-Knowing God- dust collects inside. Shadows find their way to every corner as the Son-light fades. Danger lurks in my soul-room, but I don't even know it for lack of adequate light.

Can you relate?

Then.... oh, dread of dreads..... because my window has been closed, the thief finds a way in.
No fresh Air to drive him away. The living conditions are perfect, so he moves right in. He begins his deadly business- 

"...to steal and kill and destroy..."


Hot, dirty fingers soon begin to clutch my heart. (ever felt them?)
Pride. He tightens his grip minute by minute.
Anger boils up inside of me -excusing itself under the easily pardonable guise of "hurt"- and leaks out down my face...

...Hot. Thrashing. Crashing. Destroying.


"Can I just HATE???!?!?!" I silently scream. It echoes off the walls of my steady-darkening room. "Can I just throw it all away... quit trying... and hate???"

Oh, the thief. He brings misery. Pure misery.


Bitterness gains more and more ground ........whilst I loose more and more.

Why is it" I moan, "that what destroys always seems like the easiest choice in the struggle?!"

Why then did hate feel like the answer? Why did the thought of throwing away Life and beauty and everything I have ever truly fought for seem like the only way to peace from the war? Why did anger satisfy my soul one moment and tear it wide open the next?

Why? Because my window was closed. Because my window was closed to the Help that I need.

There was no fresh Air blowing into my soul-room, so I was suffocating. Giving way under the pressure of the dirty, stuffy air that surrounded me.


Ever felt completely defeated by the thief? Is your window opened or closed?

That warm Spring air kept blowing and WOULD NOT let me forget-
Father WOULD NOT let me escape this lesson He had for me. "Look! Open your eyes!" He keeps saying "See what I am wanting to do in your heart?"


Well, so there I sat- pondering these thoughts, aching and groping to grasp their fullness, having prayed for a week-and-a-half that He would open my eyes to the complete truth of "throwing open my window" to the Fresh Air.

I had already begun to realize that what is needed is repentance...

...Cleansing...

...... humility to open myself up and let the Rushing Wind blow through this temple and blow out the dust within....

...but I was still not completely clear on what that looked like exactly.

Not completely clear, that is, until my Heavenly Father decided that I needed a BIG dose of truth concerning all this. A verse kept coming to mind that seemed to fit my subject at hand, but then when I looked it up in the Amplified I was comPLETELY blown away.

I clap my hands together and laugh out loud. It makes all the sense in the world.

THIS is my answer!!!!! 

Try THIS:

"So repent (change your mind and purpose); turn around and return [to God], that your sins may be erased (blotted out, wiped clean), that times of refreshing (of recovering from the effects of heat, of reviving with fresh air) may come from the presence of the Lord..." (Acts 3:19)


In other words....

Say NO to the thief, say NO to hiding from the Truth, say YES to Jesus, Say YES to His fresh air, turn around and...

Throw open your window.



Hope Containers

Sometimes dreams fall apart.


Sometimes our very favorite dreams burst at the seams and spill our plans onto the floor.
Making a humiliating mess.


Sometimes our dreams break under the pressure and intense heat of reality and our hope leaks out.
Drains to empty.
Only a puddle remains of what once delighted.


My favorite mug gave way last week and split open
-cracked right down the side-
as I poured boiling water over the tea bag.
Tea leaked out onto the stove. Onto the floor.
The cup drained to empty.
Sounded hollow.


I looked at the puddle- the mess- and I looked at the crack down the side.
I thought of my life and my dreams,
and the uncertainties that even now are staring me in the face,
And I thought, Hmm. This seems only fitting.


I leak.


Hope drains.


Where does hope go when dreams shatter?

Where does hope go when its container busts?

Tea on the floor in a puddle,

and slowly...slowly... I am beginning to realize...

Dreams. What are they?

What are dreams anyway? Are they anything more than vapors? Intense desires? Figments of imaginations?

Are dreams strong? Do they last? Are dreams really capable of supporting the weight and the volume of hope?

Were dreams really meant to be hope containers?

There are hopes.... and then there’s hope.

There are things we hoped to do, hoped  to be, hoped to see happen-

things we planned on, made plans for, centered plans around-

Things we established dreams upon....
These are hopes.

And then there’s hope.
What keeps us breathing,
What keeps us alive,
What makes life worth living.

Hopes can die and I can be wounded, but I can go on and live.
HOPE dies, and I find no purpose in life without it.


Hope Containers determine life.


Thoughts swirl in my mind. I am captivated by that crack in my mug and the resemblance it holds to my dreams.
Breaking.


“You are God my Savior...” I read the psalm of another’s pulsing, breaking heart.
“...and my hope is in You all day long.”


My hope is in You.


My hope.


In You.


Dreams give way. They just do.
If hope has been in the dream, when it breaks, the hope leaks out to the floor.
Leaves the dreamer empty.
Creates a mess.
Evaporates.


Maybe dreams were never meant to be hope containers.

“My hope is in You.”


Maybe... just maybe... (my thoughts swirl).


My broken mug won’t hold tea ever again.


Maybe I have been wrong all this time. Maybe I am suddenly seeing things more clearly than ever before.
Looking through the crack.


(Somehow brokenness makes way for clarity.)


Jesus Christ.
He never changes. Never gives way. He is “the same yesterday, today and forever.”
The Solid Rock.
Quite capable of supporting the weight and the volume of hope.

“His love endures forever.”


Not only is He quite capable of containing hope securely-
Not only is He strong enough; not only that-

He is so entirely full of love-
(The epitome of love... Love Embodied)
That we can know that He holds our hope precious. Holds it close.
Won’t bust open and let our hope drain.
Too much love for that.


Dreams can crack and shatter. Hopes can be destroyed.
The very foundations of our worlds can quake and crumble and throw us so off course that we can’t tell up from down. And people can hurt us.
People can hurt and disappoint us, fail us, forget us, turn and betray us, frustrate us, and crush us.
Happenings of life can pierce our hearts right to the deepest most sensitive part
And then turn
Twisting the dagger- deeper, deeper...
Weakening, dizzying, excruciating, blinding pain.
Circumstances can crush, bruise, break, wound;
Scare us right out of our skin-
Leave us confused and bleeding.


All these things and more can happen. Have happened. Will happen.
Because we live in a broken, beat-up, crazy world.


But if my HOPE is in Him

-In Him-

If He holds it, nurtures it, contains it safely-
Then even when everything falls… and my heart breaks... and my dreams fail me... and hopes die...
I won’t lose Hope. It will still be there. Unharmed. Unshaken. Immovable.


Because of the unchangeableness of who He is.
Hope remains.

I could choose to place my hope in dreams,
In people,
In places,
In things,
In feelings,
In experiences,
In words,
In songs,
In beliefs,
In ideas- preconceived or well-rounded, firmly established.
I could choose to place my hope in any of these containers, but when they give way
(and they will give way; all containers in this broken, beat-up world eventually do)-
When they give way hope will leak out and leave me....


...Hopeless.


And I can’t live without hope.
I can’t go on breathing as a hopeless person.

A broken mug, now completely useless for containing liquid, reminds me of hope containers.

Makes me look into my heart and ask the question:

Where is my hope?

Is my hope in Him? Is He my Hope Container?

Inasmuch as HE is my Hope Container, I can say with all confidence
“As for me, I will ALWAYS have hope; I will praise You more and more.” (Psalm 71:14 NIV, emphasis added).


Even when dreams fall apart; crumble; break my heart...
Even when I can’t understand; can’t tell up from down; don’t know what to do....
Even when my heart bleeds and throbs in pain; when I leak; when tears seep out and slide down into my lap right alongside my dreams and hopes and plans...
Even when my heart goes numb; pain no longer draws a response; the world seems cruel, silent, indifferent...
Even THEN.
Even THERE.
WHEREVER I may be-
If my hope is in Him, Him alone- no other container- I will always have hope.


Always.


And the funny, beautiful thing is,
Even that broken “useless” mug now has a new purpose-

It arrests my eyes, takes my thoughts captive, reminds me to ask my heart,
Were is my hope today?



And I think about hope containers. 

“May the God of HOPE fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him,

so that you may OVERFLOW with HOPE by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Romans 15:13

Morning Is Coming

October eleventh. It had been a long night.

Everlasting, almost- but not quite.

I had slept only about an hour... two, at most. The changing of the colors in the sky gave me hope that the sun’s beautiful rays would soon be piercing thru the darkness that had held the night captive for those hundreds of lonely minutes.

I slipped out of my bed and into my sweater and pulled a pair of socks onto my bare feet. I cracked open the back door and stepped out into the crisp air of early Autumn. The stars that had so brilliantly graced the black sky only a little while before were now no longer anywhere to be seen.

Morning was coming.

I wandered down the sidewalk and back....... around the yard aimlessly. Grasping to remember past events, yet hoping desperately to forget it all.

I had obeyed.

I had done just exactly what Father God had asked me to do. I had let go. I had surrendered. I had given my dream and my hopes to Him. And now the painful reality of the choice I had just made threatened to crush me with sorrow.

But the choice had been made. I had chosen Jesus. Jesus alone. He is enough.

But it was still dark.

Light hadn’t broken through and made everything clear the moment I obeyed. It actually had grown darker. Much darker. And the sorrow got deeper as the night wore on.

I looked up across the yard and noticed, to my surprise, the Morning Glories that had grown over the arbor were in full bloom.

This early in the morning?

I had to see them up close. I made my way to where they silently grew and cradled one between my hands.

Beauty. That was a healing sight.

I kissed the petals.

I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and snapped a quick picture. The lack of adequate lighting provided me with only a silhouette of the flower.

To anyone else, the picture might seem undefinable. Possibly worthless. Definitely unclear.
Just like my life felt at that moment.

But as I looked at the screen of my phone and closely examined the picture I had just captured, the message it gave became strikingly clear-

Yes, of course! How could I forget?

I smiled and whispered under my breath the words that I would soon find myself repeating day after day as the night season of life ran its course...

...........“Morning is coming.”

 

"Satisfy us in the morning with Your unfailing love,

that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days."

Psalm 90:14

"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I put my hope.

My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning,

more than watchmen wait for the morning."

Psalm 130:5,6

"You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light." Psalm 1:28

"...I think of You in the watches of the night. Because You are my help, I sing in the shadow of Your wings. My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me."

Psalm 63:6-8

"I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in Your word." Psalm 119:147

"Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in You. Show me the way I should go, for to You I lift up my soul."

Psalm 143:8