Endure the Beams of Love

And we are put on earth a little space, that we may learn to bear the beams of love. William Blake

I attended a nightly, weeklong prayer service last week at church. We learned each night about a different attribute of God. We focused on how big and powerful and majestic and holy He is in comparison to how small and sinful we are. We also took several days to look at His grace, mercy and love.

Now, as much as focusing on His power can make my knees shake, there is something even more offputting to me when learning about the latter facets of God. Because when I finally see myself for the miniscule mess I am, and then I begin to comprehend the awesome love of God despite my mess? Well, it hurts a bit. I feel a disconnect - my own ugly depravity juxtaposed by God's beautiful and constant love and mercy for me. I feel like I owe God for such unconditional gifts, but there is no way I can repay the debt. It can be offputting.

I think the very battle of what William Blake refers to as "learning to endure the beams of love" is what causes me so often to wander. To lessen the "pain" of His love, I can do one of two things: walk away from God to ease the feeling, or use it as motivation to become more like Him. Only a perpetual attitude of humility can allow me to draw near to such amazingly unexplainable love and rest in it.

Steven James

I met Steven James at a writers conference. He is an amazing storyteller. He tells a tale in such a way that mouths hang open and people lean forward in their seats in anticipation of the next word.

In his book Story, Steven looks at Ephesians 1:4-5: "Long ago, even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes. His unchanging plan has always been to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. And this gave him great pleasure."

Steven writes, "According to that verse, before God created anything, he was daydreaming about me. At the dawn of time, I was on his mind. And so were you. While darkness swirled around him, he dreamt about us and he loved us. His unchanging plan has always been to have a close relationship with us. That was God's first dream, and it gave him great pleasure."

It makes me think of friends, who as newly pregnant women looked down at their bellies already fully in love with the tiny kidney bean growing inside. They spent nine months dreaming of what it would be - a boy or a girl? Blonde or brunette? Will it have daddy's eyes or mommy's laugh? And to imagine God like this, looking down at what He would birth - looking down and imagining me! Seeing the special ways I might take after Him, what I might become, and loving me before He even knew me. Man, I can't get enough of that idea.

You Say Tomato...

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1

I’m not saying these tomato plants have any special powers. I’m just saying I seem to have epiphanies when I sit on my porch swing and stare into them. Today is no exception.

As I look at them early this morning, I finally begin to feel a little faith as I notice the small green orbs growing off each yellow starred blossom. I potted these plants as mere babes several months ago. I’ve watered them at least twice a day throughout one of the hottest, driest early summers of recorded history. And they grew and they wrinkled and they leaned over and nearly died and then they grew some more. But not a single tomato. And today I am looking at these three plants I have invested so much time and effort into and FINALLY – finally I see some progress. And I realize in this moment that I am not a woman of endurance.

These tomato plants took only a few months to bear fruit and I wanted to give up on them long ago. Is it any wonder I am weak at evangelism? I am a woman of immediate gratification. When I see nothing happening, I assume nothing is happening. And I lose heart. If faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see, I pray for God to help me trust in He is at work, even when I can’t see the fruit.

Can I Get A Mulligan?

I was born a writer. I became a Christian in 2004. Soon after, the main subject of my writing narrowed to God. God is the epitome of a muse. Every time I saw Him work in my life, or in the life of others, I saw the story and I had to put it down on record.

There have been months when so much was happening I became breathless with inspiration at every moment. Other times, His resonance seemed less obvious. I had to actively look for God to find Him. But I looked, and I found, and I continued to write. Then I wandered into what St. John calls a "Dark Night of the Soul" - where God seemed far, and I felt lost. And my eyes failed, looking for my God. And instead of continuing to follow empty leads and writing about the sadness of the search, I gave up and slipped into the night. My focus drifted inward. And I stopped writing. And I haven't been inspired much since. That was years ago.

In an effort to get recharged, I went to the Christian Writers Conference in the Blue Ridge Mountains in May. A keynote speaker talked about the Parable of the Talents, but called it the Parable of the Story Ideas. He said that to some, God gives 5 story ideas; to some God gives 2; and to some God gives 1. In the Parable of the Talents, God was angry the last guy buried his talent in the sand and did nothing with it. God made him give his remaining talent to the guy who had 5 ideas, while he was left with nothing.

It made me realize what a poor steward I had been. I had been hiding my stories in the ground, doing nothing with them for so long. I am not sure if it was laziness or fear, or a combination of the two. Perhaps God had taken my inspiration away because I squandered it. I prayed that God would give me another chance to invest my talent and earn some interest, for Him.

I drove home from the conference and within 48 hours had the outline for a new book.

I am thankful God is a God of second chances.

Let it begin!