“You crown the year with a bountiful harvest;

even the hard pathways overflow with abundance.”

Psalm 65:11/NLT

An unexpected text from a friend

My beautiful prayer-warrior heart-sister

So connected to the vine

She knows

Simply knows

What to say and when to say it

She passes on words of life

Not mere platitudes

But the very living Word

Dividing bone and marrow

She asks how she can pray

And I know she will

Know it to my toes

That she has been praying

These several years

Faithfully

Praying for the hearts of my children

For marriage and work and school

When sometimes I was too tired, too wounded to pray

She has knelt at the feet of Jesus

For me

Having no other agenda than to simply

Pray

 

 

New Morning Mercies

Paul David Tripp reminds me that we have this task

This adventure

Our own dreams pale by comparison

God’s design that we do not merely receive

But also give

How silly would it be for the clay

To tell the potter what it wanted to be?

The potter knows how to shape and mold

Knows what clay is suited best

To what purpose

C’mon Joy, don’t forget

His purpose

Not mine

Surrender

An act of worship

Reminded over and over again

In church on Sunday as the pastor spoke of Joseph

How his brothers didn’t believe he had forgiven them

Though he had surrendered his hurt by their hands

Long ago

And Joseph wept at their unbelief

Long years needlessly living in fear

How he took what his brothers meant for evil

And used it for good

I lift up arms and words in prayer

For the hurts and wounds of those I know

And some I barely know

Some in crisis at this very moment

Desperate with loss or grief or worry

And my light and momentary troubles

These troublesome migraines

Seem suddenly so small

They may not ever know I pray

But having been on the receiving end of such a precious gift

I knock on heaven’s door

Joy in surrender

It is not just a matter of looking forward instead of back

But looking around me now

Thankful for another day of life with those I love

My husband sending a sweet text from Boston

Telling me about his day

Reminding me

I am not alone

He does not leave us alone

He restores

He heals

He conquers sin and death

In Him alone

Not a weak kindness

Nor a brutal strength

Strength and kindness find their truest form completely

In Him

O Potter

Teach this lump of clay

To set aside my narrow view

With no agenda

And to pray