Thursday, December 6, 2012


Decades ago in a church, a brown-haired, only slightly-known matriarch whispered warnings in a hallway. Warnings whispered into young twenty-something ears. They went unheeded and life changed. Unfolded, dramatic and different; but still… good. God, in gentle kindness, wrought beauty.


In a second season of my life, the Creator leaned low and uttered warnings. Woven into ancient Persian script, and traced across Bible study pages minted years earlier, he talked to me. 

He waited. 

Leaning low again, he mouthed words through a bearded pastor at a podium, and from bouncy youth speakers at camp. 

He waited. 

Then, for my own good, he jumped into action. 


Obedience, often so easy –usually so easy!-- comes harder some days. My Abba asks the first time, reminds gently a second, and then has to step in as a consistency-loving-Dad must do. 

Eyes downcast, quiet, I listen, reap the circumstances he had been trying to save me from, and wait silently for time to pass. Tenderly, gently, he cups my chin, pulling eyes up. 

He speaks of unfathomable love, of deep forgiveness and faithfulness, of a wooing Creator’s heart that chases after and loves unchangingly.

Settle with me into this place, friend. A place of being chased after by God, and pursued. 

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