Saturday, February 18, 2012

Seeing Jesus Clearly

I am hard on myself. Too hard some people say.
It's only because I know I'm the first Jesus my children will see.
I am the one who will establish Christ to them.
My actions equate to His.
And sometimes...
I just can't take the pressure.
It's too much.
Because, well, as much as I love Jesus and long to live as He did, I am not Him.
And my failure days are my whipping days.
I beat myself up. And wince at my shortcomings.
I wake up wondering if today my children might see Christ a little more clearly.

And then...
my feet hit the floor and I am 
moving, running, working, earning, gaining, losing...
and I show my weakness.
My humanness shines like the sun.
Another reason to keep me up again-failure.

I crouch low to apologize for harsh words
or erroneously vented frustration.
For quick tempers
or rolling eyes.
For selfish agendas
or broken promises.
My eyes leveled with theirs.
I'm sorry.
And then a hug, 
an "I forgive you", 
an unaltered trust.

Two things I know...
In my contriteness, 
they can see Jesus quite clearly
In their forgiveness, 
I can too.

Thursday, February 2, 2012


It's late. I should be sleeping. 
Tomorrow will be here soon enough and it promises to be a busy one.  

But I am awake. Sitting here in the dark in front of a bright screen...

feeling a need to create. 

Sometimes it just overtakes me. This need to produce creatively. That God-image bursting in my chest. It won't be denied. And as I give way, exploring, creating, releasing; I find myself closer to the One who made me so.

It's not that what I have to say in this space is profound. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. But clacking keys and pecking fingertips draw me nearer to Him; somehow, in some way. Like a big ball of potential just brimming over. 

And I always ask myself this question, "What am I to do with this?" 
This anticipation, 
      this eagerness, 
            this yearning to do, 
                  to be, to give, to share, to create more. 
The welling in my throat that leaves me breathless and more alive than before. 

These moments, ones where I just need to create somehow and in some way...these are moments I know my God is near. 

My God who spoke all things into being, who created the worlds and my eyelashes. 

My God who imagined giraffes and pygmy marmosets. 

My God who laid out nature's color palette in peony's pink and sunset's orange and caribbean's aquamarine. 

My God who fashioned life from dust and called it good.

Yes, these moments when sleep is elbowed out by a greater desire to find and dwell and spend. These moments alive to possibility and energy of the creative kind. 

Here, in these moments, I feel alike to my Creator. 
Here I connect with Him. 
Here I get a sweet glimpse of who He is. 
Here I feel close. 
It's sacred. A God-breath. 
It's more than I can explain. More than I can understand. 

But these moments are welcome every time.