Tag: God

Posted in Living this Life

I had a dream

Posted on by Sara

I carried a dream – back in those days.

And then the dream died.

“unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies”, Jesus said, “it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

That didn’t feel very helpful, back in those days. How am I supposed to know what to do with that cold, hard, dead dream that sits in ones soul and refuses to let go?

On the day the dream died, back in 2009, I wrote these words in my journal: “Waves of discouragement, sadness, hopelessness. I feel like I’ve run out of faith – my well is empty. “

How can such hard pain produce many seeds? How can seed be multiplied in death?

It didn’t seem possible, so I tried to ignore it.

I pretended I didn’t care anymore.

I wouldn’t let myself think about it.

I certainly couldn’t let myself dream that dream anymore … it just hurt too much.

Do you have a dream? Are you braver than me? Brave enough to hold that dream close and hold your breath in anticipation? Brave enough to wait for the promise? Brave enough to trust when all hope is lost?

Back in those days, when the dream was still alive, we drew up plans you could touch – rough drawings for a building.

A building that would be a place of safety and peace for searching young people. A place to train and teach. They were simple plans – but they were the seed. Then, miracle of miracles, in the face of impossible odds, we had land – an acre to build that dream. For the seed to grow. So more plans were drawn – in more detail and greater color as hope suddenly had form!

Then, on that fateful day in 2009, it all faded to nothing, like a mirage. Bureocracy and red tape and roadblocks, and the plans were slowly tucked away, pushed to the back of a box somewhere. That seed of hope slowly died and was also tucked away. But not forgotten. Never forgotten. How could they be forgotten when the dream still lingered like a rock in the center of my stomach?

I’m guessing you know how that feels. We’ve been feeling these things since the beginning of time. 1,000 years before Jesus was born, King Solomon wrote “hope deferred makes the heart sick” Proverbs 13:12. Your dream might look different – but we all know the giddiness of hope and the agony of loss.

Then in 2016, the Spirit began to blow on that cold, buried seed. Glimmers of hope began to appear, but I was so scared. Those are the days I wrote these words: “Today we spent 5 hours talking about the dream. We did more than dream vapor – it is a real and deep sense that God is on the move in this – and the time is NOW… Lord, I stand here in fear and trembling. I have stood on this threshold before. And I have had my dreams dashed.”

My heart quakes when I read those words. I feel that tension still – that longing to hope and yet fearing hope itself. It didn’t happen right away – those were the first signs of spring when you know winter isn’t over yet. But slowly, that seed began to thaw and show signs of life. And then the floodgates opened… There were more plans drawn – pages and pages of detail. It was a time of wonder and endurance – when God’s promise to open the storehouses of heaven become reality, the flood can be overwhelming. Like desperate Peter, scrambling in a sinking boat because the catch of fish was too much to take in, we felt like we were sinking, some days. And other days it felt like we were dancing on the waves. It was all the stuff of miracles. The smile of God.

And these days, I walk the halls of the physical reality of that dream – realized in grander detail than I ever dared hope for. Every part of this building is built on the promises of God – literally. Scrawled on the inside beams of the walls and the concrete of the flooring are promises that poured out of the hearts of the many who were part of the multiplication of the seed.

My original dream – the one I lost – was just a single seed. Jesus said, “if it dies, it produces many seeds.” God combined the seed of my dream with the seeds of so many others, added His supernatural multiplication – and today we do life together in these walls. We laugh together and pray together. We create and learn together. We worship Jesus – together. People use words like peace and safety when they walk in these doors – because this was built on the promise of God and not the hands of man. “In that day they will say, ‘Surely this is our God; we trusted in Him, and He saved us.” Ps 62:8

I used to think this was my dream – but that seed needed to die. Because God had so much more to grow – so many more seeds to resurrect. They have names these days – brothers and sisters who work alongside me to make this vision a reality. Students who walk these halls with me, eager to change the world. And I believe they will.

This is the miracle – the multiplication of hope resurrected!

But this story isn’t just about me or my dream – the seed God buried deep in my heart. This story is about the Sower – the planter of Hope and the Reaper of miracles. The Multiplier of dreams and the Resurrecting Power that turns all death into life. Slow your racing mind for a moment. Quiet the distractions that fill your world with noise. Listen for it. Do you hear Him?

What is your dream? What longing do you carry buried in your heart, planted deep and desperate for hope? What hope have you given up on and tucked away in the deep recesses of your heart because the dream was too impossible? Do you feel His Spirit breathing? After all, that’s what resurrection does – it moves the power from us to the Source of all Power – to “Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20)

Hold that dream that lives in your heart – and breathe deep of His presence in that place. Water that seed with the Word of God. Release it to Him to grow it. It will look different than anything you imagined – that’s the beauty of it all. “One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love” Ps 62:11-12. Ultimate Power fused with Unfailing Love – complete safety. In this sacred space, you can breathe deep… and rest.

For this isn’t the end of the dreams or the quietly waiting seeds. Some have been buried deep in my heart for longer than this one. And I am at peace with it. The restlessness has faded into eager anticipation.

I feel the winds stirring – “Aslan is on the move”, my soul whispers.

and so I watch the horizon and wait.

Posted in Living this Life

Run with a sparkle

Posted on by Sara

Hey all you mamas out there – how are you doing? It’s a lot, isn’t it? The responsibilities, pressures, concerns and worries… the laundry and school assignments and decisions and cooking and workload … and then Christmas comes and brings a whole new set of pressure.

My youngest turns 13 a week before Christmas, so we are planning for as much birthday magic as we can muster in these busy days with all the Christmas going on, and I’ll be honest – this mama gets tired and a bit overwhelmed sometimes.


So when I read this verse, I had to go back and read it again. And then I needed to look at the Hebrew definitions for the words I read because somehow I had always missed this and needed to know the depth of this promise. “He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.” Is 40:11

I’ve always read that verse as one sheep-Shepherd relationship – but this morning I saw the last words: “He gently leads those that have young” – and my heart jumped when I realized He means me! He’s not just a Shepherd for the flock (the masses) or for the lambs, but He sees us mamas in all our chaos – and He GENTLY leads!


Literally it means “to the nursing ewes, He leads, gives rest, leads with care, guides to a watering place or station, causes to rest, brings to a station or place of rest, guides, refreshes”

This isn’t just a “pointing the way” God … this is a Shepherd who sees our exhausted bodies and burdened spirits and tends to our weary souls. He promises refreshment, nourishment, guidance, and a watering hole. Another definition puts it like this: “to run with a sparkle, to protect, sustain:—carry, feed, guide, lead (gently, on)”


Oh how my spirit needed this today – to know that I am seen in all I carry as a mother – and to know it matters to Him, and to open my heart to His promises that reach right into that very specific place.

I hope you are refreshed and strengthened by that as much as I am today! Take heart, tired mamas! You’re not alone.

Posted in Living this Life

Tune my heart to sing His praise

Posted on by Sara

“Lean into it” I hear Him whisper.

And by nature, I rebel.

This time of year, nature adorns itself in a parable so loud it is impossible to ignore.

And yet, still my heart fights within me.

So I sit here, hoping my words can somehow summon in me the willpower to become the person I want to be. But I know my spirit is often weak.

The meteorologist says it will dip to 36 degrees on Friday night. All of my family rejoices, but part of me wants to die inside. I realize I’m being a bit dramatic. These are the days so many are waiting for. The days when the muggy summer days are replaced with crisp air and beautiful red leaves. When pumpkins adorn our steps and our coffees, when flannels and blankets wrap around our bodies, and it seems everything beckons coziness and quiddity.

Yet, I rebel. Because these are also the days that threaten winter. The beautiful green descends to dismal brown, the flowerbeds lose their brilliant colors and are covered in a blanket of dead leaves. There is a chronic illness in me that gets stirred up by cold, and so I subconsciously dread that lovely chill because it usually means physical pain and retreating indoors.

“Lean into it?” How do you lean into something that stirs pain? This is what I am thinking about today.

I’m suddenly remembering a day many years ago when I gripped tightly to my friend as he wove his motorcycle through those San Gabriel Mountains near Pasadena, CA. Curve after curve flew at us, that motorcycle leaning one way and then the other. I somehow thought I could “help” by counterleaning … you already know what I’m going to say, don’t you? “Lean into it” he yelled as the wind whipped his words past my ears.

Lean into it? When my natural instinct is to counter-balance and push against gravity?

I read this morning about the physics behind this – I read words like “torque”, “centrifugal force”, and “center of gravity” … And basically, it looks like this: When your body is in line with the bike, gravity works to increase the friction of your tire with the road. When you lean away from that, you decrease that connection between your tire and the road, which makes all the difference.

They call it getting “crossed up”. I’m beginning to think that’s how I’ve been living in some areas of life. Pushing against what God has brought to me because it’s hard to see how it is going to help. Maybe it just plain hurts. Let’s be honest – it’s hard to release control and lean into whatever it is that He is doing.

So I spend my days getting crossed up. I’m missing the glory and the beauty in what is surrounding me because I’m only looking at what comes next. Missing the joy in the moment because fear or anxiety consume and distract. Missing what is because of might be. How can I learn to lean into it all and what might I discover in the process?

I’m not talking about bending in the waves of culture wars or committing our beliefs to the tides that come and go. There are places we can (and must) keep our feet firmly planted and stand strong and unwavering. But I wonder if we weaken our ability to do that well because we’re so busy fighting the things we can’t control? When our bodies give out and we can no longer function at the physical level we expect of ourselves? When loss leaves you suddenly feel so helpless? When our finances collapse upexpectedly or our children make choices that break our hearts? When the diagnosis comes in and everything changes in an instant? When life just feels dark and you feel like you can’t find your way through…

This is becoming bigger than me being grumpy about weather. This is about the posture of our lives. Will we stubbornly push against the storms of life and try bend them to suit our expectations, growing angry and resentful in the process? Or will we receive what comes our way, lean into it to hear what the Holy Spirit is whispering in our ear, so that where the rubber meets the road, it will hold? The curves will come, the unexpected will take us by storm – what will our posture be in that moment?

I drove through the storm this morning that is bringing the cold weather our way, and I sit here in my sweatshirt thinking that maybe it’s time to lean in and let the beauty wrap itself around me with whispers of His glory. Maybe this is what quiddity is all about: “Jenkins seemed to be able to enjoy everything, even ugliness. I learned from him that we should attempt a total surrender to whatever atmosphere was offering itself at the moment; in a squalid town, seek out those very places where its squalor rose to grimness and almost grandeur, on a dismal day to find the most dismal and dripping wood, on a windy day to seek the windiest ridge. There was not Betjemannic irony about it; only a serious, yet gleeful, determination to rub one’s nose in the very quiddity of each thing, to rejoice in its being (so magnificently) what it was” – C. S. Lewis

Did the sun set in your town last night? Did you notice? Sometimes it dips below the horizon in a wild display of splendor and social media lights up with celebrations of brilliant orange and pink brushes of glory. And many times, it happens while you’re making dinner or just busy with life and you don’t even notice. One night, late in August, my family climbed some sand dunes to fly kites overlooking the beaches of North Carolina. We’d been there before, but that night, we climbed higher and sat with a vast assortment of other people to watch the sun march towards to the sea.

Then a strange thing happened – something I have never experienced before. As the sun dipped below the sea and we were all gripped in a shared moment of wonder, the entire mass of humanity on that sand dune began to applaud.

And yes, we may have giggled a little bit at the silliness of it all – I mean, doesn’t the sun set every night? Why are we suddenly applauding somethinghappens without us noticing every other night of the year? Maybe it’s not so silly after all… in that moment our hearts responded in unison and we were actually seeing as if for the first time what God has been declaring since the beginning of time.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. In the heavens He has pitched a tent for the sun, which is like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion, like a champion rejoicing to run his course. It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is hidden from its heat” Ps 19:6

In that moment, we all cumulatively lived the truth of Romans 1, regardless of each one’s personal belief.

“ For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made…” Romans 1:20

Oh how I want to see it all and taste the splendor of God as He declares His glory all around us! To let myself soak in the changing landscape that brings us each season for all God means it to be. To lean into the message He is declaring all around us rather than getting crossed up in all I want it to be.

As I talked about in my previous post, the last few years feel like a blur of head, heart, and body busy-ness. This is my last year with my daughter, my first born, at home. Oh how my heart calls me to slow and savor. But part of me has forgotten how. Jonathan Edwards may have had 70 resulutions, but today I have only one. I sit here and I resolve, out loud to make it real, to lean into it. To let the rainy days drip and the cold days creep in with delight. To feel the fog and rejoice in the colors and truly smell the glory of fall. To have picnics on rainy days and feel the wrapping of my scarf and covering of a blanket as I lean in to really listen.

“Don’t you like a rather foggy day in a wood in autumn? You’ll find we shall be perfectly warm sitting in the car.”  Jane said she’d never heard of anyone liking fogs before but she didn’t mind trying. All three got in.

“That’s why Camilla and I got married,” said Denniston as they drove off. “We both like Weather. Not this or that kind of weather, but just Weather. It’s a useful taste if one lives in England.”

“How ever did you learn to do that, Mr. Denniston?” said Jane. “I don’t think I should ever learn to like rain and snow.”

“It’s the other way round,” said Denniston. “Everyone begins as a child by liking Weather. You learn the art of disliking it as you grow up. Noticed it on a snowy day? The grown-ups are all going about with long faces, but look at the children – and the dogs? They know what snow’s made for.”

“I’m sure I hated wet days as a child,” said Jane.

“That’s because the grown-ups kept you in,” said Camilla. “Any child loves rain if it’s allowed to go out and paddle about in it” (Lewis, That Hideous Strength)

Now, I am not naive enough to think that stopping and smelling the roses will magically erase the tragedies and trauma in our lives. And I am not proposing that a splash in a mud puddle will be enough to distract us when life is crashing in around us. But a vulnerable little bird this past spring taught me that every day we are surrounded with messages from God and about God – and by adjusting my posture now, tuning my heart to sing His praise, I can see Him and hear Him more clearly in both the good and the bad days. To align our hearts, our minds, and even our physical senses with the moments Jesus brings to each day rather than my vain attempts at control and my unrealistic expectations … And that happens in all the small moments. New life can spring forth even in autumn! And that is the adventure I am on right now.

So grab a cup of coffee and join the experiment with me?