Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Curious Comfort

“There is a certain curious comfort in remembering that the Father depends upon His child not to give way. It is inspiring to be trusted with a hard thing. You never asked for summer breezes to blow upon your tree. It is enough that you are not alone upon the hill.”

Wednesday, February 27, 2013


"God, what do you want me sacrifice of myself in this situation in order to gain more of You?"

Thursday, February 21, 2013


I have started another blog.

This is The End. The One Blog to View them All. Come one, come all.

(I have posted a few more things after this post, but it's probably a good idea to start here.)

Thursday, November 29, 2012


For to Him who is everywhere, men come not by traveling, but by loving. St. Augustine

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Jesus, I am Resting, Resting...

Jesus, I am resting, resting,
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,
And Thy beauty fills my soul,
For by Thy transforming power,
Thou hast made me whole.


Jesus, I am resting, resting,
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.

O, how great Thy loving kindness,
Vaster, broader than the sea!
O, how marvelous Thy goodness,
Lavished all on me!
Yes, I rest in Thee, Belov├Ęd,
Know what wealth of grace is Thine,
Know Thy certainty of promise,
And have made it mine.


Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,
I behold Thee as Thou art,
And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,
Satisfies my heart;
Satisfies its deepest longings,
Meets, supplies its every need,
Compasseth me round with blessings:
Thine is love indeed!


Ever lift Thy face upon me
As I work and wait for Thee;
Resting ’neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,
Earth’s dark shadows flee.
Brightness of my Father’s glory,
Sunshine of my Father’s face,
Keep me ever trusting, resting,
Fill me with Thy grace.


~Jean Sophia Pigott

Friday, June 15, 2012

Death and Life and Lies and Truth

We started out alive. Very much alive. We were in direct, perfect communion with God. We had no division or misunderstanding or selfishness in our relationships with each other. We were physically healthy. We were mentally sound. We were emotionally fulfilled and whole.

And then



God told us we would, if we did That; but we paid Him no heed.

Thought we knew best.

We tried so hard, we did.

We tried to pretend we were still alive.

We hid. Hid from the One with the Answer, from the One who sees all.

And we’re still dead and we still pretend.

Outside we look alive.

Inside we are naught but a corpse.

Rotting, shriveled, dry.

We plaster on a smile and we laugh and we talk loud and we DO. Frantically, we try to convince ourselves–or at least everyone else–that we aren’t really dead inside.

But we are.

And we all know it, no matter how hard we try to make it look otherwise, no matter how many people tell us we are beautiful and good, no matter how loud we laugh, no matter how much doing we pile on top of our deadness in an attempt to look alive.

Ugly, small, not-right.

This is us.

Correction: this is us without and before Christ…Before the Christ-life comes in and fills that hollow, dried up, dead spirit of ours. Before He comes and breaths His life into our breathless spirit. Before His Life-Blood begins flowing in our spiritual veins.

But oh, when it happens–what a glorious thing!

We who were

once dead,

who were

once far off–

are alive in Christ,

brought very near

by His precious life-blood.

Why, then, do we--who are alive in Christ--sometimes still feel dead? Why do we sometimes still see ourselves as ugly, shriveled, hopeless?

In a word:  


You see, Before, the lie was:  

You aren’t really dead;  

somehow, someway, 

you can beat it.  

You can cover it up.  

Hide, run  

and hide.  

Don’t let Him see.  

Just put on some more makeup,  

maybe buy some more expensive clothes.  

Make sure you do everything  


Keep doing all those good things; maybe 


will make you feel better.

Once we see through that lie and accept the Christ-life, however, the lie takes another twist.

He whispers the other side of his deceitful tale into your delicate new ears:  

You aren’t really alive.  

You’re still just as 


as you ever were.  

Look at you!  

Insignificant, putrid, hollow old you.  

Who do you think you are,  

claiming to be new, holy, cleansed, alive?  

You’re wrong.  

He doesn’t really care for you.  

Maybe the other people–look how beautiful they are.  

Not you. 

 Look at what you’ve done, who you are.  

No…you’re still dead.


Just as plain and simple as that.

It’s a lie.

Lies are nothing, nothing but the twisted fragments of nightmarish thoughts from the Enemy of your soul.

The one who tricked us into believing The Lie that brought death to our souls in the first place. The one who desperately tried to keep your soul dead. And the one who, now that your spirit lives because of Christ in you, wants nothing more than to keep you believing that you are still dead.

Don’t listen.


I know you don’t see, yet.

You don’t see what God saw when He had the idea for you. What He knows you’ll become at the end of the story. You don’t see, quite, the glow He had–has–in His eyes when He looked at you. You didn’t see His joy when your long-dead spirit finally accepted His life and became new.

But you have to trust.

Trust that He knows what He’s doing. Trust that He who has promised is faithful, and that He also will do it. Trust that He makes everything beautiful in its time. Trust that His life is in you, and that you aren’t dead inside any more.


You are alive, very alive.

Because The One

who is

The Life

is in 


Friday, June 8, 2012


"All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want--
But you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of My love for each saint;
You'd not know the power I give to the faint;

"You'd not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there;
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me;
When darkness and silence were all you could see.

"You'd never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove;
You'd know that I give and I save, for a start,
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart."

(I don't know the author for this...)

There's more to the poem here: (and possibly the author's name)