I made a drawing of a staircase I saw in my imagination a few years ago. It doesn’t do the staircase justice of course. And that’s because it doesn’t reveal the silky medium caramel color of the wood with its swirling grain. Or the carved and perfectly fitted parts. A drawing can’t share how velvety the staircase is to touch or how inviting it is to a barefoot or tired bum. And the drawing doesn’t have all the many cupboards, some secret, which create the fascinating journey upward.
But if I could take you inside my imagination, you’d see and understand how it might take a week to finally arrive at the top landing. Not because it is so high, but because there’s a world inside each captivating crevasse and hidden compartment. And you’d be drawn to recline in the seat and turn on the light. There you’d lean back and read one of the books, or close your eyes and nap. I imagine fairy tale worlds emerge in naps taken there. Continue reading THE MARVELOUS STAIRCASE
When Father was teaching me to Rest, He actually told me to sit still for long periods and do nothing. It was hard. I felt condemnation. Lazy was a word that kept popping into my head. It was even somewhat frightening. Which is weird. Silence is frightening. It’s hard to face it alone. And the drive to do something all the time is insistent. I’m responsible for stuff and people. I can’t leave them unattended.
Apparently, I was taught thoroughly that “idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. And it was so ingrained that I didn’t know how to stop doing it easily. Quickly I saw how my enemy was keeping me from being much of a threat simply by keeping me busy. And Father wanted to make Rest a foundation in my life. Breaking off that busy constancy required sitting, staring it down, without a book in my hand, without a hobby before me, without the computer, and without a companion. Continue reading TEACHING ME TO REST
I turned to Jesus because my heart was breaking. He came immediately and cupped my teary-eyed face in His hands and touched my cheeks with His lips. Then He embraced me and nuzzled His face into my shoulder. I could feel His breath against my neck, warm, comforting.
I breathed of Him deeply and asked, “Is there something wrong with me? My heart is too fragile.”
He again held my face in His hands and looked into my eyes speaking in tongues which I didn’t understand. But it felt like He was instructing my spirit in a way that it would understand. Continue reading Rippled Water
