Refreshed Like the Morning

 

Last night’s rain refreshed everything living and green, leaving a sweet, clean smell in Early Morning’s Spring air. 

The sun was just up, striking every raindrop with light. Clear and bright, they hung like tiny crystals from every leaf and flower petal. The only sound was that of turtle doves gently cooing in the cool of the new day’s air, accompanying nature’s art show with a symphony of clean, soft notes akin to those of an oboe. 

Resurrected writing has opened up past memories like the one above, allowing me to revisit them as one does an old collection of pictures. Scribing’s tool of wonder permits me to linger and wander around these recollections, taking in the smells and images and sounds of those long-forgotten moments which, as a child, seemed to make time stand still.

Time is still again.

...And today I ponder: What refreshes my soul as a writer?

Each day ends with the need for sleep, to renew body and soul for the next day ahead. But nightime’s slumber is not enough in and of itself to equip me to write words of hope that touch others at the point of need.

I was recently contemplating the Jewish perspective of a day as observed in Sabbath rest. If I remember right, the “day” started at sundown not sunrise. Preparation for Tomorrow started the night before.

Our hope*circle (writing group) was entertaining this thought back in March: how do we cultivate the soil of our hearts for fruitful writing?

“The instructions of the Lord are perfect, reviving the soul.” - Psalm 19:7

Because I need the instructions and words of the Lord to echo off the walls of my own soul to my readers (for only HIs words are lasting; only His words can give lasting Hope), I need to start my writing day by connecting with God, reawakening to His presence, and hearing afresh His words to my spirit. Only then am I able to write with the integrity that I desire. 

I had initially approached this need by engaging a morning journaling process, reflecting either on the prescribed “word of the day” from You Version or Bible Gateway, or some random phrase that happened to float into the sites of my attention by the Spirit’s prompting. Either way, Truth was in front of me and I was listening and writing what I heard from that place.

But with this new Sabbath challenge for starting the day, I am entertaining the need to start the night before, focusing on God’s presence as I lie upon my bed, letting my final thoughts be rooted in the Spirit of Truth.  I have used a couple of different tools, from John Eldridge’s Pause to Lectio 365. Both allow me to rest and listen as another leads and guides my through processes to conclude the day.

What refreshes you? 

I’d love to hear what you have found helpful in keeping you connected and plugged in to the empowering, lifegiving reality of God with You, Christ in You.

What Do You Long to Hear?

Voice is so dear to me.

“My calves will hear my voice and follow me.”

What can I say! We raised cattle, not sheep!

Just last week I was responding to another hope*writer about missing the calving seasons on the farm. They are so innocent and helpless and responsive in the hours following their birth. And who can help laughing at the weak-kneed first learning to stand and negotiate solid ground on four legs!

One of the things that amazed me as a farm boy was how well each little one knew it’s mother’s voice. To an untrained human ear, all cows’ mooing sounds the same. But to a calf, it’s mama’s voice is more distinctive than the individual leaves of the cottonwood tree in whose shade it lies (they say no leaf is the same). You might say this is intimate.

Hearing God’s voice is intimate.

In hearing God’s voice, I was first drawn beyond the doctrines of others to the living, breathing existence of my Rescuer, the Faithful One who declared to me in one of the darkest moments of my life, “Chris, I will never leave you.”

Voice carries me, comes under me when I'm falling like the strong back of an eagle rising on  the winds of life’s gales. Or, like the cow, comes charging to the rescue with the slightest call of distress from the one who is utterly (no pun intended) dependent on her care.

Voice is sense above the nonsense that is the chaotic cacophony of many self-seeking cries and shouts and demands in our world. Voice is comfort and guidance and healing for all that is grieved, all that is lost.

Freedom of speech is a blessing. Freedom to speak life and hope without fear of consequence, is mightiest of all. The freedom to say whatever one desires without consequence is a fallacy. Every word has effect, for words are power.

Speak life. Speak what heals and hopes. Speak what will last when all else fades. 

May my words be the echo of Intimate and True words. May they ricochet off the walls of my heart where Water flows with might and churning power, with breath-taking beauty and grace. May their reverberation bring hope and life and healing and courage to those who hear them, because they resound with the Voice of Hope.

And may my heart forever be drawn to the Voice of the One who knows me by name, like a calf to it’s mother.