Then Abigail made haste and took two hundred loaves of bread, two skins of wine, five sheep already dressed, five seahs of roasted grain, one hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs, and loaded them on donkeys. And she said to her servants, “Go on before me; see, I am coming after you.” But she did not tell her husband Nabal. So it was, as she rode on the donkey, that she went down under cover of the hill; and there were David and his men, coming down toward her, and she met them.
—1 Samuel 25:18–20
This is a fitting theme for today because my heart stampeded last night. I suffered a panic attack and I don’t know why. And it had been so long that I thought I was over this.
So I labored.
I separated breath from breath and thought from thought and remembered to breathe “Thank You.”
And I listened to Jodi Penner sing “Be Near Me Still.”
Then I wrote to God in my journal-
You reminded me to breathe “Thank You”
You introduced me to “Be Near Me Still” two days ago so that I had it for last night
You timed it so that this is where I'm in my Bible today
And I wrote a song.
I have journals for lists.
I write my grocery lists in a Grocery Journal I made from a reusable cloth grocery bag.
I plan meals for the week in my Bread-n-Butter Journal which I made from a kitchen towel.
My to-do lists are in the Honey-Do Journal I made from rugged texture fabric and tied one of those spiraled wooden honey scoops to a string of twine which serves as a place holder so I know where I'm at and what I've done.
And I have my Prayer Journal. This is where I write down the things which God's Spirit speak into my spirit. There's a physiological connection which happens when Spirit speaks to spirit, and then every neuron in my brain connects to the way my heart beats and charges down mental, muscular, and nervous pathways till my fingers hold pen. This is my Connect with God's Heart Journal. I have many of these and each is made with assorted fabrics, sometimes lace, always buttons.
Well, I don't know about Abigail, but if she didn't have a grocery journal, she should have! Goodness!
Two hundred loaves of bread? How much flour would that be?
Five seahs of roasted grain
One hundred clusters of raisins
Two hundred cakes of figs
Two skins of wine
Five sheep already dressed
And I thought I had a large grocery list!
This is Abigail. Her heart stampeded wild horse. Her household was at stake. Her husband was inaccessible.
I can relate.
My husband has fought his battles and been inaccessible, and I’ve loaded donkeys for the sake of my household.
Abigail went undercover when the one she feared approached. Her heart was probably beating right out of her chest.
I, too, went down undercover last night, and my heart beat out of my chest. I practiced the hard pisteuo. The hard faith and hope.
I didn’t have words with God. Is that because I’m becoming more mindful to ask, “How was trust in You strengthened in me today?” Maybe. Not long ago, what would have come out of my panicked lips is not what came out in the darkness last night. It was pisteuo speech. This is the language spoken by those who practice believing, trusting and hoping in God.
My heart is practicing a new beat—an “I believe in You” beat, an “I trust You” beat, an “I hope in You” beat. My life has become all about this because it is all about His love for me. And that’s enough. I dare say this in humility before God.
It’s enough to keep me wanting more pisteuo and more awareness of Him. When my heart stampedes wild horse, God's love for me is the rein which He himself holds with tenacity and skill. It's enough.
Faith and hope know the wild places where wild horses go.
Faith and hope don't stay in the pasture.
Faith and hope leap the fences and maybe it looks too wild-feels too wild-but God holds the reins. I don't see them, but maybe that's because they're hidden in His able hands.
Believe, trust, hope. That three-in-one word, pisteuo.
May it be lived with such purity that the scars it produces are proof of the presence of the three-in-one God I live for.
Be still, as still as the night
When all the stars twinkle bright.
Be still, as still as the sea
When Christ told the storm to cease.
Be still beneath the constellations.
Lift your heart to praise Him
Underneath the wild sky.
Be still when the thunder rolls in
And God is throwing lightnin’
Dancing in the night sky.
Be still, though the earth be moved.
Be still. God’s still your refuge.
written by Carolyn-Elizabeth Roehrig
(adapted from my book, PISTEUO! Connecting with God's Heart)
*find your journal in my shop at https://www.etsy.com/shop/LilBitBooksnBoutique