Monthly archives for October, 2014

Grounding : on Prayer

Oct 25, 2014 29 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson
photo: lisha epperson

photo: lisha epperson

Be cheerful no matter what;  pray all the time;  thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live. – 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 The Message

“Why must people kneel down to pray? If I really wanted to pray I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d go out into a great big field all alone or in the deep, deep woods and I’d look up into the sky—up—up—up—into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there was no end to its blueness. And then I’d just feel a prayer.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

As I mull over ideas and words…letting my thoughts flow freely… prayer begins.

Lord, help me….Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…Lord, I know…Each three word prayer, a conversation starter between God and I, opening the door for the real work of worship to begin. Offering his heart as a platform for whatever I have to say – He lets me talk. Then pours his best in spirit, leaving me speechless.

My prayer life has always been this way. Constant. A fluid exchange. A recycling of ideas between my head and heart given life by the giver of life. Every connection, a consecration and invocation. A divine intercession and expression.

This season has been no different, except I’ve taken time to share them publicly. I offer them as holy sacrament to the son who saves. 12 days in and I’m grounded by our correspondence, our prayer dance and whimsical repartee. Our silence. This is our love language. It’s a holy litany and evensong. My heart breaking, for His.

I once thought prayers should follow a format. And made every effort to script the dialogue just right. Each word a step in the dance that leads to what we all want…the applause of an answer. It wasn’t long before I gave up and gave in to the simplicity, the lovely improvisational conversations that ensued…once I stopped trying.

Now?….singing “Whom have I in heaven but You?” He holds my secrets, shares my joy…keeps me laughing. Cradles my heart, lifts my spirit, commiserates with me over the stuff that hurts. All of it. He never misses a beat with my quirky sense of humor. He gives me the words. He pours, anoints, blesses and changes my perspective. I hope we never stop talking. I hope I never stop…listening.

These days I don’t blink an eye without recording it in my heart as evidence of grace poured. Another spiritual nod to the power I see working around me. And so it has become prayer…all of it.. A whisper of hope for help, the deepest expression of gratitude, my love song and devotion.

And God hears.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Grounding : The Year of Zero {Day 11}

Oct 23, 2014 5 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson
zero

photo: flickr cc / woodleywonderworks

Be happy in the moment, that’s enough. Each moment is all we need, not more. – Mother Teresa

Recently the littlest lovely asked, “What’s 5 +  zero?”  He’s processing his understanding of numbers and the concept of zero. It’s a pretty big deal in my house now.  I said, “Five.” and went on to explain how, with zero everything stays the same (in addition and subtraction anyway).

I’ve watched 4 children work this out now. Sit with the concept of nothing. Only this time, I’m thinking about the simplicity and mystery of zero. In a strange way, it feels powerful. Like I’ve happened upon a life transforming secret. It’s ancient and spiritual…something I couldn’t have learned without first suffering the brokenness of spiritual relapse.

Perhaps this is my year of zero. A rite of passage where I hold close what I have by settling into freedom from expectation. A stagnant life was never an option, and quite honestly scared the bejesus out of me. I’ve always fought words like containment, believing “I” had to “do” the work of growing. But being still and walking through a season without trying so hard might be what saves me. Indeed, the grace of zero intrigues me. For now, I see grace in being neutral. I see grace in zero.

Acknowledging this spiritual cypher is a gorgeous bowing down..a sweet surrender from trying. From the bedrock of my soul I’ll look up. The pit marks not the low point but the beginning of a rise. From nothing comes grace – the free and unmerited favor of God. And from grace…gratitude.

Zero is stillness, peace…silence. In the silence of zero I hear the faint sound of laughter. I hear my happy approaching and for now, embrace the beautiful neutrality of contentment. I lay down my will and want for more. Yield my heart to his right now provision. Render my hope to a promise of enough.

Zero is going to bed early and getting up late. Making cookies every night..if that’s what I feel. Zero is sitting for an hour or two to watch my 4-year-old sleep or maybe a nap before dinner for me – falling asleep after filling myself with the words of Barbara Brown Taylor. And zero looks like saying no. No, to the part of me that still refuses submission to His song. And no to the spirit that says it should always be winter and never spring.  Always tears and little joy. My zero is grace balanced discipline.

There’s grace in demanding the equilibrium found in zero. I’m grounded by the checks and balances that promise to sustain me. In this season I will want for nothing. I will embrace my year of zero. I release this trifle of nothing, this handful of human effort and trust all the more, the work He’ll do through it. Glory is found in the abyss of my offering. And it starts with zero – here… my holy home base.

Joining The Nester for the #31Days Writing Challenge.

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Give Me Grace : Grounding – on Being Loved {Day 10}

Oct 18, 2014 29 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson
photo : flickr cc / arvin asadi

photo : flickr cc / arvin asadi

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Pslam 139:5

As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people both now and forevermore. – Psalm 125:2

I called my mother the other day. Nearing the end of my rope, I needed grounding. A familiar voice, my matrix, my mama. I didn’t want to burden her so we talked about everything but what’s been going on with me lately. I avoided all talk of myself by focusing on the adventures of the The Lovelies.

I told her about skating and test prep. Ade’s newest alter ego and Chailah’s ballet class. We talked until I couldn’t hold it in anymore.  In an exasperated rush I let go…”I’m tired.” It’s a perfect word to hide behind, suggesting more about the crazy that is parenting in NYC and less about my personal wilderness. She listened and went on to remind me I have exactly what I wanted (her way of saying “quit complaining, ain’t nobody got time for that”).

I had to suck it up…because I wasn’t being honest. For her, saying I’m tired said everything about my physical state and little about my heart – even though that’s where I’m worn the most. Still, I felt better after speaking with her. I felt the familiar I told you so and finger wag delivered with mothers wit and so much grace. I felt the comfort of her love.

And even though I didn’t have the conversation I wanted (I wasn’t ready for that), I got a healthy dose of my mothers love. I got the conversation that grounded me – encouragement to press through another season.

I am a daughter being loved by a mother.

Later that day an old friend called. And I grounded myself in the memory of our close friendship. Life has taken us on different paths and our homeschool schedules haven’t synched in a long while.  The late night phone calls – equal parts encouragement and complaining sessions – have all but disappeared.

She asked me how I was doing. And out it came. “I’m tired”. She fished through the usual complaints to see my struggle and lifted my ego with the best kind of endorsement. The only kind she could offer given such limited information. In one fell swoop she blew fresh wind on the dry bones of my motherhood and offered me an opportunity.

This time, a conversation I didn’t expect, but definitely one I needed. Our conversation that day grounded me in friendship. I was reminded of my value and worth in my community. Of how much he loves me though my friends – a holy hand-picked bunch of people who ground me in community.

I am a woman being loved by a friend.

And then I read these words…on a printout from 2004. “But I will give you expression with the pen, says The Lord, to be able to write the things that pertain to the worship of The Lord”. A prophetic word from my former pastor, words I don’t remember. Because back then, if God didn’t have anything to say about my body finally lining up to achieve a successful pregnancy – well, I wasn’t interested. Ten years later, He loves me with a letter. One I hadn’t read, one He saved ( the stack I found it in was on its way to the trash), for such a time as this. He grounded me with the surprise of his blood stained love poured out in black and white.

I am a girl being loved by her God.

Today I’m grounded in a love that extends beyond the arms of my husband and children. I’m caught in the grace of community, held in a love that’s secure. Home is a haven but he’s cast my net of love wide, extending beyond the borders of my home and the handful of city blocks I travel every day. His love seals and saves. It surrounds me. In this, He loves me well.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Grounding : Flashback – On Looking Back and Building Trust {Day 9}

Oct 14, 2014 10 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson
flashback

time for a flashback
photo : flickr cc/ cpw view

Grounding : Flashback – On Looking Back and Building Trust

Hallelujah! Thank GOD! Pray to him by name! Tell everyone you meet what he has done! Sing him songs, belt out hymns, translate his wonders into music! Honor his holy name with Hallelujahs, you who seek GOD. Live a happy life! Keep your eyes open for GOD, watch for his works; be alert for signs of his presence. Remember the world of wonders he has made, his miracles, and the verdicts he’s rendered— O seed of Abraham, his servant, O child of Jacob, his chosen. (‭Psalm‬ ‭105‬:‭1-6‬ MSG)

He’s GOD, our God, in charge of the whole earth. And he remembers, remembers his Covenant— for a thousand generations he’s been as good as his word. (‭Psalm‬ ‭105‬:‭7-8 MSG)

Then take care lest you forget the Lord, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. – Deuteronomy 6:12 ESV

Autumn is here in New York City. The inevitable change in season marks a transformation we can’t control. A golden sun teases from the east and above ground transportation hasn’t recovered from its sporadic early am schedule. It’s still dark.

Fallen leaves and crushed ginkgo fruit litter my walk across the park and I watch an older Asian couple gather the seeds in plastic bags. They come every year. Trusting God provision, they return every fall based on the promise of what He’s already done. They show up at dawn to collect the smooth, plum shaped fruit falling from the trees. They remember.

The promise of transition trails me like the scent of this strange fruit. And while I chase the light across the park, winds of change wrap me like an old scarf. I breathe it in and pull it close. Remembering.

The time is ripe for looking back. I’m taking a walk down the cavernous halls of my past. Arms stretched wide, I trace my fingertips along the scars. Deep grooves and scratches, tiny nicks and cuts brand my life with memories. If I don’t remember I’ll forget.

I think God likes to be noticed. I think it makes him angry when we don’t pay attention to the work he’s done – and dear Lord, how easy it is to forget. Remembering satisfies my deeper need to settle my heart with His provision and promise. The more I remember, the more I trust.

Yesterday’s victories get shelved like so many grade school trophies. We can choose to see them as relics of the good old days or as a vow of assurance, his promise of loyalty and trust. In looking back we see a chronicled listing of answered prayer, a record of His works. Taking a look back offers a clear view – the difference between now and then, what life looked like before we let him in. A flashback helps us trust him with the whatever may lay ahead and encourages us to believe Him in the present. Taking a look back helps us rest.

God has proven himself. Today I’m remembering a marriage birthed from a broken relationship, the children he spirited into our lives through adoption, the fulfillment of a promise in my womb. He’s healed, saved and delivered and I BELEIVE. I’m clinging to his finished work and proven past – all the good, He’s already done.

And I’m encouraged by the hard things. I’ve seen His providence sweep through to shift and rearrange my life – I’ve seen Him make things right. Some good, all for His glory. I’ve seen. In the hurt, it was well. Through tears and disappointment…it was well. Perhaps not in the moment but in the flashback I see.

While I wait I’ll ground myself by focusing on what he’s done. I’ll ground myself in His reputation – his insurance, his lifetime guarantee to be good. He’ll show up. He always does. He’ll catch me if I fall, he’ll keep my mind right. I’m flashing back to all the things that made me a believer.

While waiting for the next thing, ground yourself in the gifts he’s already given. Flashback on the love he’s already shown. Then trust Him.

 

Joining The Nester for the #31Days Writing Challenge

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Catch up on earlier posts in the series here :

31 Days of Grounding : Remembering Who and Whose You Are
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Give Me Grace : Grounding – He Speaks : On Paying Attention {Day 8}

Oct 11, 2014 36 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson
photo : flickr cc / Kris

photo : flickr cc / Kris

For God speaks once, yes twice, yet man perceives it not. Job 33:14

 God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” – C.S. Lewis

Images swirl through my mind. I want answers from God but my usual pressing in feels dry. The closer I get the less I hear. I don’t hear words. And I’m not sure if I want to see what’s staring me in the face. Life, in my right now world,  is like my favorite roller coaster. It’s thrilling and lovely… and scary.  I want to raise my arms and scream – allow myself the beautiful abandon of  a person of faith but reconsider and play it safe. I’ll stay strapped in and ready myself for a white knuckle ride. This is a season or waiting…of holding on.

As much as I believe there’s a message in all things, right now, I’m struggling to hear him. His words are tangled in a melody that keeps me connected to Him and each day I waken to the same lilting tune. It’s mournful and soft and I know it’s birthed from the cup of tears he’s collected these past few months. He speaks. But I’m not paying attention.

And then something like this will happen….he’ll tell me a story.

I pushed past her to make the connection from the express train. She stood in the door way, immovable. Her back to me, I hopped in the car doing the NYC subway shove. Everyone knows it and its allowed, but I didn’t feel good about it. Especially when I turned around and saw her.

I recognized the familiar golden lion logo of her gently used Anne Klein bag. Resting between the crook of her arm and her wrist the bag hung stiff and uncomfortable – like it wanted to stay away from the dry stub that used to be her right hand.  I wanted to hear her story. She wore thrift store designer duds –  fashion from years past. Gucci, before Tom Ford and classic vintage Ann Taylor worn with old school Nikes – black of course. She’d pushed her short Afro under a trendy cap and gracefully held her neck high. She looked tired – her face lined with memories, stories of things she may never tell. She’s the new face of homelessness I see in the city. I wanted to hear her story – starting with the two over-sized garbage bags at her feet – everything she probably cared for, and the hand – I wanted to hear about that too. I thought it ironic she stood under a sign advertising a new health insurance plan – “Who Will Care For You?”

No words were exchanged. She shared her story in a moment of eye contact. Our eyes met and I listened. The quiet between us, a powerful word.

Watching her, really seeing her – helped me hear God. He does that. Let’s me experience His presence through a story. He pulls me in with a glance, the glint of gold from a purse. I know everything and nothing about a woman I’ve never met. I hear him. 

For now? silence. I’m reminded of the sound of waiting. For sure there are seasons of riotous unrest marked by days, weeks even years of in your face rantings for change…NOW.  But sometimes we’re asked to say nothing while waiting.  I’m in the queue marked quiet. I’ll be silent.

He speaks…in arrows from a pulpit shot straight at the center of my heart. He speaks in snippets of conversation I hear from my children, the wise word wisdom of friends who love me. He speaks in heart revelation. The inner voice I’ve come to know as Christ’s alone. He speaks in the marsh. He is wind in wildflowers, a blood-red moon. The breeze that carries autumn leaves to the ground.

He speaks in silent confirmation. Let’s call it peace. It’s not likely he’ll offer a marching band, no tumbling cheerleaders or mystical, theatrical experience. If you’re looking for the lighting bolt, where the heavens separate to reveal a legion of angels carrying a scroll bearing your name …well, that probably won’t happen. When I pay attention, the messages he sends are no less powerful.  I hear him here… here , here and here. I listen for him in nature, in movement and music. In dreams and visions.

And when I can’t hear him. I set my heart to find hope in His word. It’s a love letter and map. A compass and promise. It tells me He speaks.

He speaks through story….yours, mine…hers.

Today I heard him in this song.
These words from one of my children – “you say you won’t get mad at me mama, but I know you will” – ouch
And this word from Priscilla Shirer

Ground yourself in this…He’s talking. Are you listening?

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace ~ read more ~
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Grounding : On Vision – He Sees You {Day 7}

Oct 09, 2014 6 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson
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photo : flickr cc Reportegimmi

“God never overlooks a single sparrow. And he pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail – even numbering the hairs on your head!” (Luke 12:6-7 MSG).


Then Jesus entered and walked through Jericho. There was a man there, his name Zacchaeus, the head tax man and quite rich. He wanted desperately to see Jesus, but the crowd was in his way—he was a short man and couldn’t see over the crowd. So he ran on ahead and climbed up in a sycamore tree so he could see Jesus when he came by. (Luke 19:1-4)

We don’t always see Him. Pillars of life experience block vision. We observe life in seats marked – obstructed view. Whether its narrow focus, bias or natural barriers…we don’t always see him.

Sometimes his seeming absence is protection. His passing by, a gift of shelter from attack. Sometimes the blood of a lamb posted above a door means this time, the answer will be no. And maybe that’s a good thing. It took me a while to realize that everything I thought I wanted wasn’t a good and perfect gift.

Sometimes His vision offers sanctuary from suffering, other times it’s a healing refuge. He isn’t here to protect us as much as He’s here to make us – like His son. Trials will come – so vision, God vision helps us rest when we think He isn’t working.

He sees you. He knows the details of your situation. The one who numbers your hairs holds you when you cry. He sees it all. I think Zacchaeus encourages us to pursue him anyway. Push aside any barriers and position ourselves to see. Hone in on the gift of god given vision. Then wait.

Wisdom teaches us to wait. The blessing is usually a story of long-suffering where we learn to trust a God we can’t see. We begin to trust a vision for our future based on His word that says his plans are to prosper us…to do us good..to make us happy.

But that isn’t the whole story. We have to trust His vision. We have to believe he sees.

And I do. But this season is new and different. Uncertainty and doubt peel me raw. I know everything and nothing. Most days I feel unseen by the God who sees all. I write this as encouragement for others but Jesus, it’s for me too. I have to remember He sees.

—————–

I lay back and cradle myself in the comfort of my favorite cozy spot. It’s late and I’m in the living room listening to the sound of a sleeping city. In a few hours I’ll be up and at the rink with my skater girl. A lot of my life takes place like this. Me, prepping for the late night grind. I love it but it just means my day is super long…the grind leaves fewer hours for sleep.

I’m not complaining. I love this part of the day.

Just a few hours earlier and this quiet didn’t exist. My littles would have found the security of my resting body and pushed themselves into my softness. A book to read, a hand to hold. A head to cradle. A few hours ago my day was lost in the overflow of motherhood.

I plan for the breakthrough of bedtime.  And trust a limited view of the future to offer a slice of silence. The promise of time…to get the job done. But laying here…He sees me. God works out the details of my day to offer these moments. God makes space for my dreams.

He sees.

Even the small things.

———————–

He sees.

He sees you.
In the middle of your mess.
His love is greater. Stronger.
It can’t be overcome. His love has come. Sin undone.
No disappointment. No trial.
No heaviness of heart can conquer it.
His love is infinite.
Part tragedy, part suffering
All glory, one victory.
Catch the vision. Live the mystery.
He is the known and unknown.
The chasm between your present and past. He is your future.
Your first and last.
The One who holds it all together.
He is.
And He sees you.

Still pulling it together for the #31Days Writing Challenge.

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31 Days of Grounding : Remembering Who and Whose You Are 

 

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Grounding : Remembering His Touch – On Leaving and Coming Back {Day 6}

Oct 07, 2014 10 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

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When the woman realized that she couldn’t remain hidden, she knelt trembling before him. In front of all the people, she blurted out her story—why she touched him and how at that same moment she was healed. – Luke‬ ‭8‬:‭47‬ MSG

“Touch has a memory.”
― John Keats

I remember the year I walked away. I turned my back not so much on God but all my efforts to be what I thought a Christian should be. These were the years of naming and claiming, back in the day when my faith was new and I thought I could get anything I wanted from God if I believed enough. I thought I’d get brownie points for doing good deeds – everything was based on works and a tally in heaven recorded each one.

My holy lifestyle was new and this strategy wouldn’t last.  I didn’t know about grace, I just needed more faith. Faith to believe the boyfriend who left would return, faith to believe this Christian mumbo jumbo wasn’t just a phase. I gave God a frame of time to work this thing out and when that didn’t happen I walked.

And felt justified. I wasn’t getting answers to prayer – not the answers I wanted. It seemed each week His glory passed over the congregation – dropping healing and treasures and wisdom, like the candy explosion from a piñata and everyone would get a piece…except me. I’d raise my hands, reaching, searching, believing – if I could just touch him. Like the woman with the issue of blood, if I could just touch him. Maybe then he’d remember me. Maybe I wouldn’t have to go to the altar…again.

I got tired of missing the mark. I tried to get it right but good girl guilt consumed me. God’s silence, His “no” to things I wanted, confused and hurt me. So I left.

I left NYC and began a new life. I found a new love. My life took off on a completely different trajectory and I could finally see myself living the way I thought I deserved. I had every distraction. Everything. Except peace.

I’d felt the fire of his touch before so I knew what I was missing. His touch was real. But by then I was so far down in the pit all I could hear was a flat, single note groan of a girl – gone. That and every now and then…a song.

A song that pierced through the cloud covering over my heart… a song that moved me to remember His touch.

His touch could change everything. So I had a choice. I could stay just out of reach and excuse my life away – become one with the crowd. Or I could press in and touch Him.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Because touching him means responding to his power. And what would I do then? I’d be accountable for every action of faith I put on display. I’d have to live the manifestation of healing publicly. I’d have to tell. How would I handle the disappointment if everything I said I believed, didn’t happen. Could I go to the altar again?

I held myself responsible for Gods will. And that was wrong.

Touch remembers. It feels and sees. So try as I might I couldn’t forget. I couldn’t forget what it feels like to know Him and I couldn’t walk out on a life of faith without reaching for Him.

I remembered His touch. I came back because for all the times I reached for him, there were a dozen more where He’d reached…for me. Marked by His affection, sealed with His love – our communion was a promise to never leave. He wouldn’t let me forget. I came running back and knew the moment as forever.

Ground yourself in this truth:

Be strong. Take courage. Don’t be intimidated. Don’t give them a second thought because God, your God, is striding ahead of you. He’s right there with you. He won’t let you down; he won’t leave you.” – Deuteronomy 31:6 (The Message)

You encircle me from back to front, placing your hand upon me. Psalm 139:5

Joining The Nester for the #31Days Writing Challenge and happy to link up with Jennifer at #TellHisStory again…I’ve missed her.

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Grounding : In the Kitchen – Dying To Self {Day5}

Oct 06, 2014 5 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

groundingdyingtoself1

For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. – Colossians 3:3

I’m starting with the man in the mirror, I’m asking him to change his ways
If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at your self and make the change – Michael Jackson

I hate having to clean the kitchen before cooking but it was one of those days. Leftover work from the day before created the mess of a kitchen I walked into. Pensive and prayerful, I took my place at the sink mumbling mommy prayers…each one beginning with “Oh Lord Jesus”.

I never want to do it. But kitchen ministry usually provides ample time to think on the many ways God works in a life. There’s no other place in my home where I can count on a daily stripping to set my heart right. It’s where I begin and end my day – dying to self. It’s time well spent.

Today I washed dishes while catching up on one of my favorite television shows on Hulu. Actor dialogue and a steady stream of running water fought for my attention. I solved that problem by working only during commercial breaks. Kitchen ministry was slow.

God and I have partnered in this life altar-altering since 1989. It’s been a long time. Through daily, repetitive work He shows me the art of dying to self…to live for him. But I’m a lot like an onion. Somehow I keep forgetting that just as I peel back one layer, there’s another…just as strong, just as thick. It’s a process.

Work in the kitchen is all about dying to self. It reminds me of the daily cleansing I have to do to keep myself on track. From the washing of dishes to the baking of bread…he reveals short but important messages on how life requires patience.  How in the washing we’re made ready to serve and in serving…we receive. He shows me how, to truly live, I’ll have to meet him in the kitchen….again.

He encourages me to get back up and go back in. To turn off the leaking faucet of words and thoughts that hold contentment hostage, to bend low, to reach high, to hold fast – there’s grace and hope in believing His fire will create something new. He and I , we’re chopping, slicing and dicing that old nature. Denying myself and picking up my cross in the kitchen is a humbling life practice where I allow Him to make me over, day by day. It starts with Him –  grounding me in my marriage, my motherhood, my friendships.

So I wash myself with the word of God. I listen to the work of gifted speakers and inspiring music. I practice peace with silence. I look myself in the eye at least once a day to make sure the new me is winning. And in the kitchen I don’t need a mirror to do it. I catch soul glimpses of my reflection in boiling water, in the whisper thin skin from a piece of garlic clinging to my fingers.

Sometimes, the new me is covered in unforgiveness, other times, it’s doubt or fatigue. To be sure, there’s more, but those few keep me busy. Today it was poor choices and my stubborn addiction to late night tv (I could have been in and out of the kitchen in half the time if I didn’t have to watch season 1 episodes 11 and 12 of the The Good Wife – can you believe it took me that long to turn it off?) Checking in with myself helps me make sure I like what I see. It keeps  me grounded and alive to the source that sustains me.

Ground yourself in this… Listen for the lesson. It’s in the doing of life…in the small and mundane…the grind of life. Listen for Him and let go. And…don’t forget self check-ins are mandatory – in the ‘hood we say “check ya self before ya wreck ya self”.

Joining The Nester for the #31Days Writing Challenge and Kelli for Unforced Rhythms

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31 Days of Grounding : Remembering Who and Whose You Are

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Give Me Grace : Grounding – Making the Connection {Day 4}

Oct 04, 2014 27 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

First this: God created the Heavens and Earth—all you see, all you don’t see. Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness. God’s Spirit brooded like a bird above the watery abyss. (‭Genesis‬ ‭1‬:‭1-2‬ MSG)

While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obligated to realize and remember that everyone else and everything else are also God’s creation.
Maya Angelou

groundingnewlife3

Earth, air, fire, water

I wish I could put a handle on either side of these words. Then, I’d pick them up and take them with me – wherever I go. This is something I need to remember. Before I knew God, before I had a name for my abba, my father. I knew His love through my connection to the elements.

Earth’s crammed with heaven…
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes. -Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I’ve always believed my connection to God was tangible. Sacred but touchable. Not because of any teaching I received at home. Or any ideas about idol worship or beliefs about the elements as lesser gods. No, my parents agreed to disagree when it came to religion. Christians and Muslims still need Jesus. The solution in my home? It wouldn’t be an issue. My father would drop knowledge on history, race and Islam when he came to town. My mother would take us to church on Easter Sunday. She’d show us Jesus in the little ways mothers do…without trying. This was our normal.

The wind blows hard among the pines
Toward the beginning
Of an endless past.
Listen: you’ve heard everything.
– Shinkichi Takahashi, Zen Poems

But the elements. Feeling a deep connection to the elements was my true north. I loved books on earth science and geology and marveled at the cracked segments of concrete beneath my feet. You couldn’t tell me Brooklyn wouldn’t erupt from the molten hot lava I pictured under its surface. Crossing the distance between my apartment and the next on wings, I dreamed of flight. I’m an air bending lover of freedom. I practiced deep belly breaths and pinched my nose under a sink full of water – just because. Fire is mercurial. Unpredictable. Irresistible. A burning abandoned building and a match lit stove filled me with fear and fascination. Water, full body submersion or a simple shower…it’s called hydrotherapy, but as a child, it told me everything I needed to know about God as a healer. Rain, poured as tears of love, taught compassion.

Heat cannot be separated from fire, or beauty from The Eternal.
Dante Alighieri

So giving my life to God was easy when I knew him as the creator of all. A connection to the elements grounded me. My spirit found it’s home in the middle of these extremes. My relationship to a God who delighted in the differences but inhabited the totality of each element made sense.

Who hasn’t felt a tap on the shoulder while watching the sun set. Who hasn’t seen him wink in the eye of a storm? His power in the expanse of water called an ocean is breathtaking. The way he Jekyll and Hydes us with the miracle of precipitation. Who hasn’t thought of God when he shows himself through Every. Thing.

Every dewdrop and raindrop had a whole heaven within it.
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Ground yourself in this : You are earth. Terra firma, fertile soil receptive to his planting. You are air. Unconfined and free to fly. You are fire, ablaze with passion for the one who saved you. You are water, a river of grace poured freely… and every day made new.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace ~ read more ~
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Grounding : At The Altar, Your New Life {Day 3}

Oct 03, 2014 3 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

groundingnewlife3a

 In him was life; and the life was the light of men. (‭John‬ ‭1‬:‭4‬ KJV)

The moment the Spirit has quickened us to life and regeneration our whole being senses its kinship to God and leaps up in joyous recognition. That is the heavenly birth without which we cannot see the Kingdom of God. It is, however, not the end but an inception, for now begins the glorious pursuit, the heart’s happy exploration of the infinite riches of the Godhead. (A.W. Tozer , the Pursuit of God)

The summer before I conceived my littlest lovely, my hands fell off. No, really. Kind of. The skin on my palms would literally shed, peeling off in crusty patches that were painful and not pretty – at all. It began as a rash by the ring finger of my right hand and by the end of summer the skin on my palms would cycle and recycle in this process until tender new skin emerged. One hand, then the other. Over and over again. It was crazy.

The following winter I was pregnant. And I noticed my skin and hair doing something different. My hair, noticeably thicker didn’t shed much, and my palms completely healed.  The skin no longer, raw and pink, toughened up and decided to stay. I imagine pregnancy hormones and my general state of reproductive creativity healed my hands. Something shifted. New life in my body ignited the regeneration of my skin.

The body recognizes His life working in us.  It responds.

——-

Let’s circle back to heavens gate. Revisit the holy throne…where he promises – to make all things new. Where your life becomes one with the altar. Your existence, a daily offering laid bare on a table of stone – a living sacrifice.

This is where life altaring begins. Where we walk in the confident assurance of a God who approves your sacred gift. Fully illuminated by the life of his word we reflect his gift of love….and give it back to Him. Again and again. He takes every detail, every shattered, sacrificial token and creates….a new life.

Your new life belongs on the altar. Bow down with the angels to mark the moment. Consecrate it with the laying of stones, a dance by moonlight,  a roaring fire….a scream to heaven. Seal the memory because we’re prone to forget, prone to leave the God we love.

He found you and called you friend. Declared your value. Called you beautiful. And you said yes. Bonded, branded. Forever. His. A holy exchange and blood bought confirmation.

It’s hard to believe.

Worthy? Righteous? You? Your self-defeating mental playlist is on repeat again… every fall, every short coming…every thing – you didn’t do right.  But His love is free and you, well you have to be ready for the truth. The truth that He lives in you.

Walking in truth is powerful. Knowing God in and as ourselves aligns us with our divine calling. We are fashioned from love – here to enjoy the gorgeous synchronicity of a celestial partnership with the one who created us. We’ve shed our old covering for a holy layer of God glory. We are made new. And this is only the beginning.

Ground yourself in this – This is your new life and a Holy God lives in you.

Joining The Nester for the #31Days Writing Challenge.

31daysGroundingA

31 Days of Grounding : Remembering Who and Whose You Are
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lisha epperson

lisha epperson

recipient of grace, lover of family, woman of God. Christian, homeschooling mama of 5, wife of 1. believer in miracles and the promise of redemption. passionate about parenting, adoption, women, nutrition, dance, fashion. a lover of words.....

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