Barefoot and Breathing Jasmine

Jasmine robes the patio wall in white fragrance, spills onto patio stone and just respires glory as easily as I take the next breath. A slight disturbance, a quick flutter, and some small bird is building her nest in the folds of this jasmine robe. I might envy her, but before I have the time to think it, "The train of His robe fills the temple with glory" flutters through my stilled heart and the words are all jasmine to me.

I only have my breath, this jasmine, that nest. All grace. All worship. My lungs fill and somehow just breathing is worship right now. Does worship breathe, too? It must. It simply must breathe. I lend it my lungs, but worship fills them.

The bird darts out. Her wings must be saturated, fragrant, jasmine. I find my whisper, "King of Glory!"

I might envy her a second time. Her nest is filled with glory. She rests in glory and it saturates her. I might envy how easily she spreads the fragrance of the glory that fills her nest. It must just fall from her wings, the fragrance, as she does what she does because that's what happens.

I might envy her, but how can I? She winged past me. Maybe it's how her wings brushed the air, or how the jasmine trains over the patio, or the glorious miracle that her nest is filled with this robe, but somehow I am made witness of, what should I call it? Jasmine evangelism. That's what I'll call it. Jasmine evangelism. I watch it happen a few steps from my back door.

I'd part the vine in search of the nest, just to see what it looks like to be filled with such robe, but I don't. I won't invade. It's enough to be filled, and to stand on the back patio in such glory. I take pictures of this jasmine robe and train.

Jasmine Sketch on Patio

Later I would part open the word of God in search of what is there. "You are the temple of God," I find His words in 1 Corinthians 3:16, "and the Spirit of God dwells in you." I've read it so many times, and in case I miss it He writes it again in the next verse, "For God's temple is holy, and you are that temple."

What can I say to that? I want to say, "How is it remotely possible that I am Your holy temple?" But He tells me how it's possible.

"It is so," says He, "because you are the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus."

Is this how the grace of God attends His own glory? By His grace I am both His righteousness and His temple.

The prophet Isaiah saw this beforehand. He saw the Lord, high and lifted up; and he saw the train of God's robe fill the temple.

Was this a glimpse of the glory which was to come, and which was fulfilled when Christ promised to give us the Spirit to dwell with us and to be in us?

I dare not object when God tells me I am His holy temple. I dare only to confess the truth, by the grace of the Spirit of truth filling me.

I know I've let barterers and thieves into His temple, and I know He's overturned some tables. I've felt the holy disturbances within. I have. And I'm thankful for them. I am; because  I could never be anything but a den for thieves without His passionate claim on me. But He cares to present me, pure and spotless, to Himself; and He cares to fill me with the fragrance of His glory and the life of His Holy! Holy! Holy! Spirit.  I breath the jasmine air and say it just, "Hide me in the folds of Your jasmine robe. I am as nest. Fill me with Your glory, with Your Spirit, with Your life."

Nest

I sense Him holding His breath as if He's waiting for me to say something more, but I don't know what more there could be. I ask Him, "Is there more?"

"Mm-hmm," I follow His gaze to the jasmine.

"How much more could there be, Lord?"

"Spring." One word, and I get it.

Spring is everything life. Spring is everything victory. Spring is banner. Spring is jasmine on the patio. Fragrant tendrils wave Color Guard victory banner on the morning breeze and I'm certain this is what victory smells like. Sweet, spicy and heady.

Spring is the season for war, too. Spring battles for life. It's the time when kings went to war in the Old Testament days, and when shepherds would slay Mamma lions to guard their lambs.

It must have been spring when the Amalekite king declared war against God's people and lost because, one way or another, Moses kept his hands up; and God promised He'd war against the likes of Amalek from generation to generation. No wonder the generations worship the King with hands lifted high.

Moses, he built an altar there and called it, The-Lord-Is-My-Banner.

The Lord-He Himself-is my Banner.

"You are my Banner!" I lift my hands.

He responds, "You are My temple!"

"You are my Bridegroom!" I'd wear this vine if I could.

"And you," He looks at me as if I am wearing a gown of jasmine, "you are My bride."

The thoughts wave fragrant pure, white, and fans something deep inside me, "Fill this temple with white-hot glory!" Fire and jasmine, incense and worship and banner waving, "Come and raise your arms to the King of kings who fights for you and wins!"

Gown

I've never seen the train of a king's robe, but I remember the train of my wedding gown, and of my daughter's gown, and the train on the gown that I flung into a high arching billow behind my best friend as she and her groom were presented as husband and wife. Yeah, I remember that train; and the moment of panic when I realized I'd flung it with enough enthusiasm to launch the bride. The congregation gasped and I dug my high heels into the altar carpet and hung on as valiantly as David's mighty men clung to their swords.

Kings and robes with long trains aren't exactly a hot topic these days, but they were back in the days of kings and kingdoms when words like glory and honor and power were highly royal and even fearsome. Seems the longer a king's robe, the more victories he'd won. I read about it at indwellingchrist.org. "The greatest recognition for the king that he had been victorious was signified when he would have a piece of the defeated king's robe cut off and then sewn onto the bottom of the train of his own robe."

No wonder the King of king's robe was seen to fill the temple with glory.

I try to picture what the prophet Isaiah saw. I try to plumb the context and to draw up a fuller and deeper understanding of this kind of glory; the kind which elicits the from angels' lips not just one "Holy," or even two, but three and three exclaimed-"Holy! Holy! Holy!"

He saw glory.

Moses once asked to see God's glory. Maybe he got a taste of God's holiness when he stood barefoot on the ground, consecrated by God's presence as holy, and wanted more.

"I want more, too, my King." I am barefoot on jasmine patio. The vine hasn't burst into flame, but I feel God's presence here.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God," He reminds me of the beatitude.

"Purify my heart," the prayer turns to the old praise song, "Refiner's Fire." I sing it just as whisper, "Refiner's fire, my heart's one desire is to be holy...."

The bird returns to the nest.


written by: Carolyn-Elizabeth Roehrig

Connecting with God's Heart-Kitchen Confessions and Pork Knuckle Moments

Connecting with God's heart,  Connecting with a friend's heart. Sometimes I shuck shells like a squirrel in my backyard as I get to the meat-the heart of a matter.Sometimes I chew the fat with a friend in her kitchen and together we get to matters of the heart. That's how it went, in this dear friend's kitchen across the Atlantic in the charming town of Starnberg and far from my backyard where the squirrels shuck nuts whether I'm there or not. My precious friend, Karen Grable, wrote about a conversation we had in her Starnberg kitchen. I asked if I could share it with y'all, and she graciously said, "That would be just fine...it isn't a dissertation, it isn't filled with a bunch of verses, it's just straight talk with one person's angle." Well, her angle is soul food. Enjoy! 

Squirrel Shucking Nuts

 

"Lives change around the meal table.  I enjoyed a "sweet" time catching up with a dear friend recently, in my kitchen, permeated by comforting smells of savory foods blended with laughter and love.  We both also love Jesus and, over time and pain, have gradually come to view this life more clearly - with a long view - still in a mirror dimly, but wiped down a bit through His cleansing Word.  We remarked over the creativity of our Creator, specifically as it pertained to food and the infinite number of colors, textures, shapes, sizes, flavors, varieties, and so on the discussion went. We concurred that our heavenly Father intended our senses to be gifts, and that food is meant for pleasure as much as it is for our benefit and welfare. I thoroughly believe this!

As my friend and I further pondered the big picture, we felt gratitude over the promised new, heavenly bodies, immortal and ageless which we will inherit . We exhorted each other with the truth that we are to be good stewards of our temporary body, and are responsible to care for it with the sound minds and self-control that His spirit enables. We live in a great age for medicine, and longitudinal study results have provided no shortage of good information with which we can make smart eating choices; there are greater numbers of health conscious individuals looking for clean quality food and rigorous exercise regimens.  It seems to me, however, that there is a fine line to (power) walk between living a healthy life style and being consumed over the "health" of our bodies. If our eyes see the short view, our (temporary) body morphs into our idol - commandeering larger and larger portions of our thought lives, our time, our resources - which impact everyone close to us. What a way to spoil a good dinner!

Personally, I believe that my Abba Father, my Daddy, delights in my ice-cream cone afternoons, or the decadent (sometimes artery- clogging) celebratory meals I've cherished with beloved friends and family! I'll illustrate with a poignant example taken from this very day.  My beloved Uncle Rich is dying.  This man whom everybody loves, who exudes the joy of Christ like no other, is about to shed his temporary body for his permanent body - leaving this temporary home for his permanent paradise with Jesus.  Uncle Rich, Bo Bo, has been the consummate example of balance in life, a man with the LONG view, the eternal picture. If ever there was a man who knew how to work hard and play hard, it is he.  He has been intentional about his God, intentional about his family, intentional about the import of others' lives....yet Bo Bo knows how to laugh hard and relish the bountiful delights that our Father giggles over every day.

Not eight months ago, we enjoyed a family moment with Uncle Rich at a restaurant in Germany. We spoke of God's signature on the Bavarian Alps as we ate drippy, fatty German pork knuckle (kill ya dead), and cold frothy beer. My husband and I remembered thinking, "We want to be just like him when we grow up!"  He has always lived a healthy pattern of life, physically, mentally, and spiritually, yet he is unashamedly going to savor those occasional treats that His Father created FOR his pleasure. Uncle loved that pork-knuckle moment, he lived that pork-knuckle moment.  This is a man with the long view, the eternal picture.  Just a few weeks ago when he was released from the hospital after a cancer-related infection, he posted his final comments on his Caring Bridge web-diary:

'Little did I realize 16 years after the sale of my company, that the spiritual direction program I felt moved by the hand of God to pursue would also prepare me for this precise moment in my life?  I feel very close to my God right now and have no doubt or concern about what happens next.  I’m pretty sure I would not be in the same frame of mind I have about my own dying process had my God not nudged me into the ministries I’ve experienced, all of which heightened my relationship with my God.  Leaving the hospital, which had become the landscape of my new life going forward and being brought back to a landscape that now has a limited shelf life was a bit wrenching.  In a way I felt as if I was going back in time rather than forward along on my journey.'

I can hardly wait to recline (perhaps after a stroll through some lush green pasture by a sparkling river of life) through eternity with Uncle Rich - around the Savior's table, laughing, feasting, and licking ice cream cones....  NEVER would I have given up that Pork Knuckle Moment with Bo Bo.  I'll see you in a little while, Uncle."

                                                                                                               

Karen F. Grable 

                                                                                                               

Connecting with God's Heart-A Backyard Devotion

These shadows, they stretch awake in the morning sun and yawn wide across Pecan branches. They stir awake, too. The morning breeze moves their knotted limbs and flexes their twigs as if nursing an old man awake and easing him out of bed. Rough, dry, stiff, the tree scratches  itself wherever its long limbs can reach, and groans.

The sun stretches, too. It unfolds light, and the light feathers out-just wings out-till it measures from wingtip to wingtip the span of this side of the earth.

"He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." This Most High, Almighty One, who calls Himself the Light of the World, speaks from Psalm 91:1 to me this holy morning in my backyard.

More lightly than air, the shadows touch the spring grass. And me.

"He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge." He continues to speak to me.

I whisper to Him, "You are my dwelling place;" and backyard shadows wing weightlessly.

There is a secret place of the Most High, and this morning I'm watching shadows flutter and lift, stretch and flex. I watch them shift as the breeze riffles; and I think about this secret place.

The Lord brought a dear friend's father home today. Seems it was time, and he was ready.

He left a legacy behind which will be celebrated in the Kingdom at least as many times as those whom he led to the Savior leave this earth and enter the gates of glory when it's their time.

He will be there to greet each one.

He will introduce them to many other citizens dwelling there-there in the city of the New Jerusalem. It's described in Revelation 21:9-27 as the city that has no need of the sun or of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of God illuminates it; and the Lamb is its light.

"Where are the shadows?" They might ask. Maybe he himself is asking that question right about now. Maybe tonight he'll marvel at how there are no shadows lengthening, thickening and falling wide till the city is dark with night. Well, I don't know for certain if there are no shadows in Heaven. If there are, then they wouldn't be there because of the sun rising or setting, or the moon casting.

"Are there shadows in Your Kingdom, Lord?" The sun rises higher over me, and I think about shadows.

What is the purpose of shadows anyway? I guess they mark time as the sun and moon mark it-days. 

"Ah! Days and shadows!" I remember what king David said about that, and I repeat it to the King of the Kingdom,  "Lord, what is man, that You take knowledge of him? Or the son of man, that You are mindful of him? Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow." I don't remember the address for this verse, but I do remember what is said about man and his days and shadows and that's all I need to remember right now.

"You dwell under My shadow." He draws me into the presence of His light.

"Your feathers and Your wings cover me." I watch a bird over me get knocked a tad off balance in a gust of wind and its feathers ruffle in a spurt of energy.

He notices the bird, too, and says, "Take refuge under My shadow-under My wings-just for now.

Nothing knocks Him off balance. Nothing.

"Your wings are steady. Your feathers are unruffled." So many things in this world would knock me flat down off my tree, and would keep me flustering and flapping in continuous spurts of anxious energy-but any more? I just don't give those things much chance to do that much any more. I don't because I have flapped anxious, wild, and still been knocked off my tree, plenty enough times to learn something.

I've learned that His wings are steady, His feathers are unruffled.

I'm a sunlight dweller. I'm also a citizen of the Kingdom of Heaven where there will be light more glorious than the sun.

"Gladly," I accept His invitation, "I will gladly take refuge under Your shadow-yes, under Your wings-just for now." He knows I prefer light to shadow; and He knows that I hope in the eternal light of His glory.

Shadows dance with the sunlight. I watch them sway with the wind. And I plan my day beneath the shadow of the Almighty. I plan with Him.

"My day, Lord," I shift on the patio cushion.

He shifts, too. "Yes, your day."

I plan enough for a week. He laughs, "Girl who do you think you are?"

I'm His girl, made for His Kingdom where, as far as I can figure, there won't be shadows for me because there won't be sin for me to take refuge from. And isn't sin what I need refuge from, and have by the blood of Christ which covers the mercy seat forever?

I'm a refugee of the Almighty, taken under His wing for now; and as long as I'm in this flesh, I'm grateful for His shadow. It's mercy.

I'm His girl who longs to dance with glory in light and never stop because, where I'm going, the night shadows will never fall.

Thing is, my days are like a shadow-but He is mindful of me.

My to-do list rests on my lap. "Oh Lord, God Almighty," I begin to worship underneath His wing, "You humble Yourself when You do this. When You-all light through and through-provide me with shadow because You are mindful of me," I pause in thought, "You humble Yourself."

I glance at my to-do list, which He re-did, and I humble myself. I remember that I just told Him I'd take refuge under His wing.

He brought my to-do list back down to earth.

He tucks me under His shadow and whispers in my ear, "Just for now."


written by: Carolyn-Elizabeth Roehrig

Pray to God with Me, and Pray

"Stay here," Jesus said, "and watch with Me."

I came to Him this morning and we wrote six pages in my journal with Rejoice & Be Glad scripted in fancy gold lettering on the cover. He brought me back to the Garden of Gethsemane verses in Matthew and Mark, and ministered to me. Now, I desire to invite, "Come with me! Let's go back to Gethsemane together and see His grace!"

He quietly pointed out His word to me, and I quietly wrote out my response to Him.

"I'm grateful for Your grace, Lord Jesus;" I began. "I'm grateful that You're not an enforcer of the law, but a fulfiller of the law-because You are grace-filled.

"You came from Your heavenly country where moths, rust, thieves, sickness, filth, sorrow, pain, tears are not. You came from that country to this land called Earth.

"You are King of grace, humble and not haughty.

"You came to give of Yourself, not to demand from us.

"You came to this land, lawless despite powerful law-enforcers, where grace is needed, but suspected.

"You came from Your country where peace reigns in victory, to this war-torn earth.

"You came with a message of peace, and with grace to demonstrate peace so that we would know what what it looks like.

"You came not to enforce peace, but to give peace; to give Your greeting, saying, 'Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.'"

"You came to do in us what You asked of us-Your will. You ask us to do Your will, and as You are yet asking, You are working in us to will and to do it.

"You came with grace, by grace, for the sake of grace."

Praise Jesus with me!

Rock

"You served by Your grace, and You were served by the same grace, coming from Your Father, ministered by the Spirit and the heavenly hosts."

We may enter the wilderness with Him, where He was tempted for forty days and forty nights.

We may enter the Garden of Gethsemane with Him.

We may take up our cross with Him.

We may be resurrected with Him.

And we may participate in His grace.

"In Your most agonizing time, agony unto death, You gave grace. Your mission and the focus of Your heart did not change when You fought, with sweat which fell as great drops of blood, to stay true as the cup was presented. And You won."

He silently leads me through the passages and I silently meditate on His word, then press my pen to the pink and white pages of my journal.

"You described Your agony to Your three closest friends and disciples. Then You told them, 'Stay here, and watch with Me'" (Matthew 26:38).

In response to my post, Invited To Enter His Passion, a sister-in-Christ reminded me that the word "watch" was widely known in Bible days to mean, "pray to God." I'm not a fast thinker, so it's taken me nearly a week to articulate what I may not have been yet able to write with clarity when I wrote Invited To Enter His Passion. 

I read now what Jesus told His disciples, "Stay here, and pray to God with Me." 

Had they prayed with Him, as He prayed in Matthew 26:39, they would have prayed, "O my Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Him; nevertheless, not as we will, but as You will." But they couldn't stay awake.

Their eyes were heavy, and I can't help wonder if they were attacked by Satan, who would have been pleased to knock them unconscious so that they could not do as Jesus asked.

He woke them and repeated, "Watch with Me, and pray."

I read this as, "Pray to God with Me, and pray." 

Then He told them who they should pray for, and it wasn't for Him. "Pray to God with Me, 'O My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done;' and pray, lest you enter into temptation" (Matthew 26:41-42).

There's grace to pray like this, for ourselves, when Jesus tells us to.

I read through this Matthew 26 passage, again, and continue in my journal.

Sit and Watch

"Lord, You must have told the disciples of Your agony, and asked them to sit and pray with You not because Your circumstances altered Your mission, but because You wanted them to agree with You in prayer, and because they needed to enter into Your passion by joining Your prayer, lest they enter into temptation.

"You must have known that, if You asked them to pray for You, they would have prayed that You be delivered from Your agony, and that the cup would pass from You. How could they, Your closest friends, watching You suffer, not pray so?

"You must have known that they would have prayed that they themselves be spared the pain of losing You.

"You must have known these things, as they had already spoken them."

I turn to Mark 8:29-35 where that conversation is recorded. He asked His disciples, "But who do you say that I am?"

Peter answered and said to Him, "You are the Christ;" and then he rebuked Jesus when He began to teach them that He "must suffer many things, and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again."

When Peter rebuked Jesus, Jesus rebuked Peter, saying, "Get behind Me, Satan! For you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men."

"You must have known that, if You had asked the disciples to pray for You, directly, they would have, with good yet deceived intentions, appealed to Satan; for they would have prayed that You be delivered from what You came to do-deliver them, and not only them, but the world."
I continue piecing together what I'm reading in the Scriptures. "Instead, You told them to pray, indirectly, for the fulfillment of Your mission as they prayed with You against the temptation of Your flesh, and as they prayed they would not enter into temptation."

What temptation? Maybe the temptation they were most susceptible to at that time; the temptation to close their eyes and sleep when Jesus asked them to sit and watch with Him.

Never mind that they fell asleep. Jesus still fought to establish His grace.

There's grace when we enter into temptation. 

Jesus spoke it, "The spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak" (Matthew 26:41). Perhaps when He spoke these words of grace, He meant it for Himself, as His own flesh was weak though His Spirit was strong, and for His disciples.

Strong to Save

After Jesus rebuked His disciples, He began to talk about the cross.

Talk about grace! Yes! Let's talk about His grace!

There's grace to sit and watch with Jesus.

There's grace to pray, lest we enter into temptation.

There's grace which keeps us from entering into temptation.

And there's the grace He established, fought for and flat out, hands down won, for our redemption and resurrection.

Join Him in His prayers to the Father, and pray in the power of His grace.

Amen.


written by: Carolyn-Elizabeth Roehrig 

A Wild Side of a Simple Life

On this high tech, neon-lit, new-fangled and trendy planet, it's nice that every thirty-ish days the same moon that's been hanging out in the universe since the beginning of measured time is still an attention getter. It's just nice that a full moon still has viewers who comment on it's fullness. It's simply nice that, though no one says, "Did you see the half moon last night?", plenty comments are shared about the beauty of the moon when it's all lit up big. There is still something simple that commands attention simply being there. It's not dancing around the sky, or flashing, or sporting the newest trend in color. No, it's just simply noteworthy.

I'd like to simply hang out on this planet and shine the steady, non-flashing, old fashioned, full and noteworthy light of the same God who hung the moon and who has been hanging out somewhere beyond space and time forever and ever.

Once He did something rather flashy, nearly neon in the sky, and fairly new-fangled on this earth, and history has been remarkably marked by what He did into BC and AD measurements.

Maybe two planets, Jupiter and Venus, lined up in the sky to create the illusion of what we call the Bethlehem star, or maybe He just placed one very large star up in the sky just to present His Son. Whatever happened in the sky, it was noteworthy and large and bright, altered history, and fulfilled crazy promises from just as crazy prophets who passed them on to anyone who would listen.

And still the moon shone as it always has.

Maybe the moon was new that night when God's star stole the universal show; but it's circuit remained simple, unaltered, not thrown off it's loop for a single second. That's the the wild side of simple, and I yearn for it.

Neon and the Moon

It's wild to keep a quiet light in a flashy neon world.

Simplicity is wild in a complicated world.

Routine is wild in a trendy world.

When the moon is full, I look up. I even tell others to look up. Some might think I'd never seen a full moon before, but there's something noteworthy about a full moon.

I look up into the sky tonight. "It's beautiful, Lord." My voice sounds strained because my head is tilted back far, but I continue because the beauty of the moon pulls praise from me. I'm drawn by the strength of its fullness, as the tides are drawn.

My chest expands with deep inhale, as the very crust of the earth's surface bulges when the moon is full.

I raise my hands and praise, "Powerful. Predictable. Simple." I pause. "And wild, Lord."

I'm clothed in the pooled light right here on the driveway.

There's something wild about a simple full moon. Even the Latin word for moon, "luna," root word for "lunatic," speaks of it's mysterious wildness.

There's also something lunatic- a wee bit on the wild side-about me. There's a little storm-chaser wanna' be in me. There's a part of me that is fascinated enough to want to see a rogue wave, called a white wall, out in the middle of the ocean (from a safe vantage-after all, I'm only a wee bit bent wild).

I've read descriptions of them. They spontaneously appear and have been likened to a hole in the sea, followed by a wall of water as tall as a twelve-story building. The captain of the famous vessel, the Queen Elizabeth 2 described to London newspapers a wave that, "came out of the darkness" and "looked like the White Cliffs of Dover." He positioned the vessel to surf the wave to avoid going down. Yeah, there's just something about that kind of wild.

Storm

There are other kinds of wild.

The words of the psalmist who thirsts for God are rogue wild: "Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls; all Your waves and billows have gone over me. The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night His song shall be with me-a prayer to the God of my life" (Psalm 42:7-8).

It's wild that God casts my sin into the deepest ocean depths and forgets about it.

That's just white wall, rogue wild.

It's wild that the darkness cannot hide in its own cover from a full moon; and it's wild that darkness shall not cover me.

Light shines in the darkness and swallows it. That's a wild side of the simple truth about God's light.

A wild side of me dares to pray, "Search me, O God, and see if there is any wicked way in me," (Psalm 139:23-24), because there are parts of me too hidden for me to know them about myself. A prayer against the convolutions of wicked ways is, to me, a prayer for the straight ways all lit up and simple because of the light.

"How do I live a simple life, but not an unwise life?" I ask Him because I'm thinking of the scripture, "How long, you simple ones, will you love simplicity?" It's the voice of wisdom calling out in the streets in  Proverbs 1:22.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom," He reminds me of His word.

"And what, exactly, does that mean?" I'd like to know because, honestly, I have yet to hear an explanation that embraces my spirit as fully as the light from the full moon embraces me tonight.

"Turn at My rebuke;" He begins to answer me in the very next verse, and I don't know why I haven't seen this before. He continues, "Surely I will pour out My spirit on you; I will make My words known to you."

I hear Him in the full cast of moon light and I answer, "Cast Your Spirit on me."

He takes the line I throw and pulls me by the power of His fullness, "Cast your cares on Me."

Does a wild side of a simple life tug like this? If a care-free life acknowledges cares and them casts them on the One who asks for them, saying, "Give Me your cares, for I care for you," then, yes, a wild side of a simple life tugs for the cast. And care-free isn't the same as careless or complacent. It's actually the opposite.

Complacency is defined as "self-assured, self-contented, self-pleased, self-possessed, self-righteous, self-satisfied, unconcerned"-thesaurus.

Care-free may be defined as free to care.

Garbage Can

Is the gravitational pull of the full moon spiritually significant? I think so. It is spiritually significant, to me, that day or night, the light is from the sun.

It's significant that there is, in the natural realm, one light responsible for governing day and night, that nothing is hidden from its light; and that there is One Light governing the spiritual realm, and nothing is hidden from Him.

It's significant that the moon-that rock-draws earth itself till it bulges, and that the full glory of God reflects on the face of the Rock-my Jesus-who draws my very soul to Himself.

"Sunlight on moon rock. Intangible gaseous light on tangible moon-the rock in the heavens from the beginning of the ages-and light of God on the flesh called my heavenly Rock of Ages." My praise is scattered too big to articulate.

I stutter it wild, "You reflect the glory of Your own light, and," I pause to simply breathe, "I see it!"

 It's wild to hear God say that He will pour our His Spirit on me, and to hear Him say so while I stand in a pool of full-moon light on the driveway just because of the most simple act of homemaking-taking out the garbage.

Is it just me, or is this a wild side of a simple life?


written by: Carolyn-Elizabeth