Owlhaven » Faith

Sunday

Owlhaven — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 14:48:58 +0000

Our God He lives forever
He reigns in power and love
Let Earth bow down before Him
For He is exalted

We look to Yahweh Yahweh
Forever Yahweh Yahweh

Our hope is God Almighty
His love is greater than all
Lift high the God of Heaven
Give all the honor

We look to Yahweh Yahweh
Our hope is Yahweh Yahweh

And He shall reign forever
He shall reign forever
He shall reign
Forever and ever (Our God)

Sunday

Owlhaven — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 21:09:36 +0000

Let Your light shine
And fill this earth
With a beautiful story
Let Your rain pour out
And fill this world
And reach out Your hand for me

Sunday

Owlhaven — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 07:57:24 +0000

Sunday

Owlhaven — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 14:50:29 +0000

Some say we’ve all been searching for a God for years in vain
And some say belief is just the easy way around our pain
And sometimes I’d like to agree when they’re telling me that this is all an accident
Cause it’s hard to let this heart believe when my mind is screaming out I need more evidence

But do I really need more evidence?

I want a miracle, something impossible
So would you help me to believe
When You say everything that’s right in front of me
Is all the proof I’ll ever need

I hear it in the winter wind that blows the icy snow against my skin
And I see it in that summer sun that rises high and then burns out again
And I feel it in my chest in the quiet moments that I trust in what You say

Would you help me trust in what You say?

Maybe this is what it means to question You and still believe
To search and still be satisfied, to know and yet to wonder why
To put my faith things I doubt, to love what I can’t figure out
Maybe this is what it means

To want a miracle, something impossible
But have the faith to still believe
When You say everything that’s right in front of me
Is all the proof I’ll ever need
Don’t need a miracle, something impossible
That makes You easy to believe
When You say everything that’s right in front of me
Is all the proof I’ll ever need

You’re all the proof I’ll ever need
So would you help me to believe

Sunday

Owlhaven — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 07:31:51 +0000

Sunday

Owlhaven — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 07:09:38 +0000

I’ve been listening in all the wrong places
Am I alone?
Am I missing every word You’re saying
I don’t know the sound of Your voice anymore
Anymore, anymore

Speak to me, please speak to me
I’m in between and I can’t hear You
Whisper, shout it
Give me something
I need it now, need Your voice, need a sound
Speak to me

Is it ’cause of all the times I failed You
Am I too far
Did you wonder how long I’d wait for You
When I can’t hear the sound of Your voice anymore
Anymore, anymore

Speak to me, please speak to me
I’m in between and I can’t hear You
Whisper, shout it
Give me something
I need it now, need Your voice, need a sound
Speak to me

Tell me something
Tell me anything
I am waiting for You
Won’t You speak to me

———-

^{Psalm 17: 6} I call on you, O God, for you will answer me;
give ear to me and hear my prayer.

harvest

Owlhaven — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 16:26:15 +0000

This afternoon I sat in my shady corner of the deck next to our pool, and watched my kids splash into the water one by one. With only one child in the water, waves were small. But as more kids splashed and leaped their way in, the water got choppier, the waves bigger, the decibel level higher. That’s life in a family. The more people in the family, the choppier the waves.

As a mom I can sometimes feel overwhelmed by so many waves roiling in different directions. There are days where I barely go five minutes without dealing with issues. If I’m not reminding someone for the gazillionth time not to use that biting tone with a sibling, I’m asking that a job be redone correctly, or requiring a redo of a reply to me that was way too sassy. Always, issues. With no guarantee I’m making any headway.

But this evening I was gifted with a glimpse, a moment of sun sparkling down into my forest of ‘issues’. I’d assigned my 12 year old daughter the week’s cookie-baking, a mere 10 dozen or so. I’ve given her this job almost every week for the past year, and every week she greets this request with sighs and eye-rolling. (I’m still working on that issue.)

The cookie project started as my sneaky way of giving her more reading practice. She came home from Ethiopia 3 years ago knowing 20 words of English. Early on, this job would have been impossible. Two years in, it was still a difficult task. She despised it at first. Didn’t understand so many things. No surprise. There’s so. much. to learn when coming to a whole new world. “What is ‘Nestle Toll House Morsel’, Mom?”

But gradually, slowly, she has come to master cookie baking. This afternoon I caught a look of pure peaceful absorption on her face as she leaned over her cookie sheet, neatly, precisely laying balls of cookie dough down. And this is a child who doesn’t find peace easily. She’s gone from hating the task to really owning it, to caring about the outcome.

A few minutes later when I asked her to run help a sibling find a shoe, she counseled me to set the timer for nine minutes exactly. Not eight. Not ten. She knew exactly how she wanted those cookies, and she wanted to make sure I’d finish them properly. Whether she cares to admit it or not, she’s come to take pride in knowing how to make cookies well.

If I’d caved in to her complaints, given up and reassigned the job during those early months of cranky cookie baking, she wouldn’t be at this stage of mastery right now. She wouldn’t get to experience the satisfaction of being truly good at this. And I’d have missed the pleasure of seeing her absorbed and engaged in doing something so well.

Glory hallelujah, perseverance really does pay off.

Yes, as with all things in life, I need to remember balance. Every day I remind myself to not over-expect, to model contentment with now, to praise the good that’s there. But it is wonderful to have these brief shining moments where I see fruit of effort with perfect clarity. Where the end of the difficult path is illuminated, and I see there really is hope for the future. My kids are learning, benefiting from my dogged persistence, my insistence that they work on things that are not easy or convenient.

And in teaching them, I am learning and relearning the very same lesson.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9

And sometimes that harvest looks like perfect chocolate chip cookies.

Sunday

Owlhaven — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 05:47:04 +0000

“Therefore if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.”
~John 8:36~

Sunday

Owlhaven — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 19:42:19 +0000

Something here is wrong
There are children without homes
But we just move along to take care of our own
There’s so much suffering just outside our door
A cry so deafening
We just can’t ignore

To all the people who are fighting for the broken
All the people who keep holding on to love
All the people who are reaching for the lonely
Keep changing the world

Take a look around
Before the sun goes out
What’s lost can still be found
It’s not too late now
It only takes one spark to make the fire burn
So reach inside your heart and let this be the start

Chorus

I know you see the suffering
How they gone recover when people just look over like they don’t even notice them
Everyone whose focusing on ending all this hopelessness
You can change the world by changing who the world is hoping in

I see the sun coming up
It’s a brighter day
Let’s show the world that love is a better way
So lend a hand join the fight
‘Cause time is ticking away
Keep changing the world

I see you changing the world
Step up!

a God who cares about shoes

Owlhaven — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 22:46:27 +0000

I’m in the van with my 12 year old son, driving past a pair of thrift stores whose proximity to each other always lures me in. I remember that my 8 year old daughter needs shoes. Her play shoes literally have holes in them. I’ll buy new if I need to, but I always check thrift stores first. When I mention the shoes to my son, he shows me a hole in his shoe as well.

“Dear Lord,” I say, “Please help us find good shoes at the thrift store. Amen.”

“That’s a weird prayer, ” says my son, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I shoot him a grin as I pull into the parking lot at the first thrift store. “You think God doesn’t care about your shoes?”

“Ummm…I guess he does…?” His voice betrays his doubt.

I remember sleeping with my babies sometimes when they were sick. They were so emotionally fragile, so clingy, that it wasn’t enough to be snuggled next to my side as usual. They wanted to drape their little bodies across my chest, to be wrapped in both my arms, head tucked under my chin. And still the little feet scrambled, restless to scoot higher, closer, deeper, into my arms. I was right there. But they wanted more. They seemed to want to crawl under my skin.

I get like that with God sometimes. I want to see Him, to feel His arms around me. He’s there all along, of course, whether or not I feel the weight of his arms. But in my human fragility, I want that clear sense of His guidance, His presence. His caring.

Today that longing is not for myself. It is for my son. As we get out of the van, I pray again, silently this time, hoping that today my son will be allowed to see the Arms everlastingly wrapped around him…will get to glimpse the Providence I’ve seen so often in my life. It doesn’t always come overtly, but I hope for it today, for him.

We walk into the first store and I’m first drawn toward the dishes. I’d like to find a white water pitcher to add to my collection…or maybe a tea pot. No luck with those hunts, but right next to the dishes are the shoes. My son walks along the racks, on the hunt ahead of me. Baby shoes and high heels and men’s Sunday shoes. Hmm…. Then I spot a pair of pink crocs, just the right size for my 8 year old daughter. She’ll love these. No shoes for my son, but part of the prayer has been answered.

The finding of the first pair of shoes has made my son hopeful. “Let’s check at the other thrift store,” he says. ” Maybe they’re there.”

In the other store I find a lovely white tea pot, tall and elegant, for $6. I almost feel arms around me, arms of the One who knows my heart and delights in showering me with small blessings liked $6 teapots.

And shoes.

Shoes.

And more shoes.

Cute brown and pink tennis shoes for my 5 year old daughter who is constantly losing hers. $2.50. Good-looking pink and white Nikes for my 8 year old– $2.75 but blue-tagged and half off today. I’ve literally never bought new Nikes for my kids, but God has provided this barely-used pair for my daughter for the princely sum of $1.38.

And then, shoes for my son. Grey-blue and tan, reasonably stylish, and tiny bit big, perfect for a 12-year-old who’s growing fast. $5.75 and he loves them. Later I google the brand and discover I’d have paid $60 for those shoes, new. We walk out of the store, both of us smiling, carrying a teapot and a bag bulging with shoes. Four pairs of shoes for $15.

And more important, a remembrance stone for my son to pull out of his pocket on a day where God’s providence is quieter, less obvious.

It’s not about getting closer to God. He’s always there. It’s about opening our eyes, and seeing Him all around us. Sometimes he shows up in tangible answers to prayer. Other times He quietly inhabits the air around us, allowing us to breathe in, breathe out, allowing us to seek and wonder and reach and long to be closer.

He’s always there.

———

Related links:

JohnMark McMillan: Closer (youtube) | (lyrics)

Shaun Groves: Push Button Faith