Just begun, yet a break:)

I am heading off to Hume Lake for a week with my family. So I will be taking that time off from blogging! Have a blessed week and I'll write again soon:)

Everything Sad is Coming Untrue

There is a wooden sign that hangs above my bed. It reads, "Everything Sad is Coming Untrue." This is a question rewritten into a statement from the Lord of the Rings. Sam looks up at Gandalf and asks, "Is everything sad coming untrue?" It's one of my favorite lines ever. Having it above my bed is a daily reminder that today, it's sorrows and trials, are not the final word. That each day history moves forward, that Christ is building His kingdom and church. That each day, we work for His kingdom and His glory. Everything sad is coming untrue. One day, everything will be set right. This is such a comfort to me. That Christ has made this promise, and that he is keeping His promise. It may be hard to see, but faith and eyes wide open show us His mercies new everyday. He makes the little things, the small sadnesses untrue everyday. Sometimes, even big ones. Yet, one day they will all be undone. I was thinking one day about this in the context of Adam and Eve. How they must have wondered if the sadness that they brought about, would ever become untrue. The discouragement of Cain and Abel, yet how God had mercy and gave them Seth. Seth was the promised son, through whose line the true promised Son would come from. Through the line of Seth, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David, the Son of God came and crushed the serpent. On the cross He began making everything sad come untrue. So trust in His promise, and work in His Kingdom, for it shall not fail.

From Our Seed

Oh my beloved Eve

taken from my side

your creation made me whole

a love so deep never to be stole

together we sealed our doom

my love I failed as a groom

oh how deep our gloom

but hope from our seed will bloom

Our sons fight in strife

one ending the other’s life

so we weep for our loss

Abel’s blood soaks the moss

Together we sealed our doom

my love I failed as your groom

oh how deep our gloom

how will hope from our seed bloom?

My love a day will come

when evil shall at last be done

a Savior from Seth will come

and he will make our sins undone

Alone he will unseal our doom

he shall be the perfect groom

no more shall there be gloom

and finally our seed shall bloom

Hard Providence

Everyday is a gift. That is something I truly believe. That each day is a beautifully crafted, scripted by God story. That whatever happens, is ordained by my God. It is so easy to say, believe and rest in that on sunny days. Most of my days are sunny. I have my season of dark days, but the sun still shines. Yet, as a pastor's daughter, I have people all around me who suffer daily. My dear friend, she might as well be my little sister, suffers from juvenile diabetes. I don't know what it's like to never have normal blood sugar, to always have to test and give myself insulin before I eat. There are two families in my church who have children with disabilities. For one family, it's having to make decisions that hold their child's life in the balance. For the other it's having a four year old who can't walk and a home with stairs. I don't know what this is like. On Sunday I hug them, get down and talk to the kids, but other than constant prayer this is all I can do. These parents daily trust in God's hard providence, in His divine care and love. He wrote these children's lives' this way because he loves them. It's a hard thing for man to swallow. Yet, God is God and we are not. We can only see a part of the story that He is and has written. God has written each of us our own stories, He has connected some stories, and not others. Though I may not understand why God has written some parts of the story the way He has, I will trust in His story. And if you step back and look at the story He has told so far, you will see what a masterful story it is. And right at the center of this master story is our Saviour, on a cross for us and His resurrection, His promise of our resurrection. His promise that because of His love and sacrifice, our story will never end. That our story goes on into eternity, eternal joy and communion with Him and one another. That one day my friend won't have juvenile diabetes. That the children in my church will be healthy. One will run and the other will be without pain. Providence may be hard on this pre resurrection journey. Yet, our story does not end here. In light of this, here is a poem on providence. 

Providence

From the beginning of and before time

my story has been written

its all scripted with it’s rhyme 

and cannot be unwritten

I am here not by happenstance 

or the whims of circumstance 

but the intention of providence,

ordained by God not by consequence

the first  of my breath

and my last in death

the first steps I take

the first mistake I make

Do not happen by happenstance

or the whims of circumstance

but the intention of providence,

ordained by God not by consequence

A Pulpit....

Every Lord's Day with the exception of a few, I have watched my father follow the following liturgy: He sits in his chair at the front row of our church, his eyes closed in prayer. Pastor John ends scripture reading with a hearty "the word of the Lord!" to which we respond, "thanks be to God." The blue eyes of my father open then, and he rises as if he has been waging a war in his mind. I know how hard he prepares and crafts each sermon, how strong his desire is to bring God's word to his congregation. Once he stands behind that wall of wood with Soli Deo Gloria carved on the front, a calm comes over him, and he delivers the Word to God's people. So as you can see pulpits have been a big part of my life. The one at our church was built by one of our deacons. He was an amazing carpenter. He made the cross that hangs in our sanctuary as well as our communion table. Now through God's hard providence, he suffers from parkinson's disease. He can no longer build things with his hands, but his handy work is everywhere to be seen in his church. I was pondering this one day, and thinking of the stories of all the pulpits throughout history. How each one has had God's Word proclaimed from behind it. How history was made from behind its walls of wood. How men of true faith and character courageously advanced God's kingdom, and how self proclaimed fools, declared heresy for their own profit. In the light of all these thoughts, I wrote a poem about pulpits.

A PULPIT

Hewn from wood by crafted hand

through ages of time shall it stand

humble and boastful men have stood

behind it’s wall of walnut wood

many lives have been changed

by the one true Word proclaimed

so it stands from age to age

up upon its great wooden stage

so humble yet so beautiful

like the One it proclaims

calling Kingdom’ name’s

freeing people of their chains

Wonder

wonder

a word

a feeling

given to

those who long

those who know

those who feel

those who believe 

at what do we wonder?

beauty?

love?

at what do we wonder?

Who deservers wonder?

who deserves such?

the awe of man

who I ask who?

The answer is found

a thing that is so profound..... 

the creator of wonder  

In the beginning God

that my friends....

 is Wonder...........

An Introduction....

Growing up on the sunny shores of Southern California, always gave me an appreciation for beauty. The air here always smells like to the sea and palm trees dot my every skyline. Sand can always be found in my shoes and sunshine is almost always streaming through my white curtains. It's easy to take this life for granted, to become consumed with one's own problems. Not until I was sixteen did I truly come to appreciate this place. God created this amazing landscape for me to live in, and it is an incredible gift from him. I stood in the ocean some weeks ago, waves crashing against my back as I gazed up at the black mustard covered mountains. It's a breathtaking sight that speaks of God's majestic artistry. Everyday that I live is a beautiful scripted part of God's story. I write poetry, not so well as many others and not as bad as some. Being the only child of a Pastor of the only Reformed church in Ventura County has taught me many things. But most of all it has taught me to trust in God's storytelling, rather than my own. I write about what I see, what He has written into my story and what I believe. So each day I will post a poem, or a thought. God is the true storyteller and the true poet. I pray my poetry honors him and that he receives all the glory.

Dirt

From dirt we are made

in the image of God

tutored by angels

we tend to the sod

but there was a plan

made up above

the exaltation of man

to be like His sons

to rule over angels

and all the earth

for Satan the angel

jealousy gave birth

hatred for God and this plan

drove him to earth to trick this man

temptation he on them prowls

I will not serve the dirt he vows

So man fell and he rejoiced

that until he heard The Voice

so will he recall his vow

when one day before The Man he bows