Watt's Well

Room to Be, Space to Create

Category: Supernatural Living

Candles upon cake

He does not manage us, to-do list us, or bullet-point us. He loves us. Is with us. And believing him feels impossible, until we do, like a miracle, like lukewarm water turning merlot red right there in the cup. And hope sprouts new, because God doesn’t give us a list. He invites us into the story.

-Emily P. Freeman, A Million Little Ways

This one has felt unusual, like a comma connecting two different ideas.  It doesn’t feel monumental nor extravagant.  But it feels like a pause, a gearing up for another long stride.

It is my birthday.  My personal New Year’s day.

This morning I sat cozily under my nap blanket with a piping hot mug fitting just right in my hands.  I read the quote above by my favorite blogger.  It grabbed me and pulled me in to listen closer.

I tend to look back over my life and compartmentalize seasons.  I shove 2-3 years in a cubby, as those years threaten to come bursting out onto the floor.  Labels hang above each square, generalizing its contents.

Its a system that fails me often, as pieces do not always stay in their proper place.

In a moment of silence this morning, with coffee as my witness.  Thankfulness sprang out of my heart and washed over my head and down to my feet.  Not the kind of washing that comes from emotional hormones or warm fuzzies, yet a washing that comes from the Spirit.

And in a brief moment all of my personal history was strung together in one note.  In one sentence. And this here, this day, feels like one glorious small comma leaving room for what is yet to be written.

img_1187

Oils blend, smearing into one another, causing art to appeal to the senses.

Last year I wondered and I desired for what was to come.  All I knew was that change was coming. But this? Different job, pursuing another degree, and regaining old ground in a new way.

Yea, you can’t make this stuff up.

I hadn’t a clue. But He had laid the colors. He took his thumb rubbed it across the canvas and smeared the scene into place.

We live one continuous journey.  All our stories worth telling.

What is He creating in your life?  And are you willing to let Him blend the pieces together in His perfect way?

Day 21-22:: The unruly discipline

Black Balsam’s Knob- Pisgah Forest

Did you know that solitude has been considered a spiritual discipline for quite some time now? 

And to think most of us consider solitude to be a priced possession. One minute without the kids at your heels. A whole hour when the phone is not ringing with business. An uninterrupted lunch break. You name it and claim those in between moments. 

I’ve been hiding away for the past few days.  I was uneasy about making this trip alone.  I was torn because I was desiring some companionship.  Not only desiring it but feeling like it may be something I was needing. 

However I was craving adventure, the kind that I semi plan and semi just fall into. Needless to say, much of my time has been spent in solitude.  

I’ve been watching Holy Spirit fill gaps that need filling and leaving space for some breathing room.  

What I’ve found is solitude feeds the discipline of prayer.  Prayer being both listening and speaking. 

Solitude enhances my hearing. And hearing makes me hungry for more. 

It’s hard to fit solitude into our busy fast paced culture. 

I believe there is a gate to solitude that many people never make it in through, even though they set out to. 

At the gate of solitude there are travelers’ packs, weapons, walking sticks, and even some shoes.  At the gate of solitude we are invited to take off our armor and for the brave, our self-sufficiency.  Many turn and walk away clinging to their possessions broken-hearted they could not enter without them. It’s a shedding of pride and defensiveness at the gate. But for those who leave their belongings, accepting the invitation to enter, they themselves are sending out their own invitation.  “Come do what you want to do. Here I am.  Listening. Waiting.”

Day 12-13:: Dimly

Its been a battle to keep my head above the stinkin’ thinkin’ water line the past couple of days.

Did you see what I just wrote there?  That has a lot to do with the issue at hand.  Maybe you did not catch the subtle implied meaning.  It’s been my battle to keep my head above…

A sinking person trying to save themselves…hmm…something just does not add up.

The Lord extends his hand willingly to pull me up out of the water, I just must recognize that he does so.

We can get so wrapped up in making things happening, taking control, putting out fires, planning.  Before we know it we are in over our heads, desperately needing a break from the hustle, the anxiety, the competing, the demands.

See his hand?

He sees it all.

He sees beyond our current situation.  We feel like it is the biggest deal in the world.  But to Him it is a pinpoint in our story.  A moment he desires to be present with us.

IMG_1968.JPG

He sees it all.  But we see dimly.

We cannot make out the future, we cannot control it neither.  Our present we only speculate about.

I love how in the book of John, the author says that the disciples did not understand what Jesus was speaking about until after his resurrection.  The disciples could not even grasp what was going on in the current moment.  It was not until much later that they understood the significance of Jesus’ words.

I’ve been there.  I’ve not understood why things look a certain way only to see later how God was moving in me and around me.

He sees it all.  And there He is reaching out his hand.

This weekend, may we find His hand being extended to us as one that is trustworthy, stable, and strong.

Day 4-7:: Aftermath

Mother Nature is unmistakably gorgeous, mysterious, and powerful.  I am hoping she has a bit more calm in store for my city for the duration of the season.

In the midst of uncertainty of evacuation and blaring “urgent” news alerts, I pushed through this week.  I found a hide-away room in my parents house where I drowned out other noise to the sound of Ben Howard and Kelanie Glockler while trying to meet school work deadlines.

It was a battle to push back worry every morning and every evening.  And at moments, I felt I was defeated only to be revived by a glimmer of perspective.

So with no explanation needed…Day 4, 5, 6, and 7 meet me here.  Its a rich feeling really. Why?

Hurricane Matthew blew through the night here in Charleston.  I hunkered down in the center living room with the pup and my youngest brother; falling asleep once anticipation had worn me out.  IMG_2162.JPG

We had no visibility until the morning hours.  With the light we saw Matthew shaking the trees violently, but all the good parts of his show came in the hours of yawns and snores.

The damage reflected his temper.  And the camaraderie to clean up the mess reflected everyone’s relief.

 

Upon my return home today, I saw the reflection of my soul as if it were visibly before me.  What appeared to me in the mirror was anxiety and stress feeding negativity.

My focus was misplaced, some storm had come in my soul when I was not looking.  Why was I jumping into negativity? I was tired and there was much still left undone.

Ever feel like that?  Maybe I’m the only one, but it is a story I know well enough.  Now I pay attention when I see the reel start to play.  So I paused, rewound, and did some editing.

First stop: gratitude.  Lets just put that in bold shall we: Gratitude.

Second stop: grace giving.  I began asking for grace to be applied to the areas in my life and soul were I was seeing the cracks.  No need for me to try to shove the pieces back together in an anxious fit.

Just smother the cracks in grace.

Peaceful work, soul care, and rest followed.  Its not a formula though.  Its just what my reflection showed me in the moment and my desire to emanate something different.

Where is it that your heart or mind needs to be smothered in grace today?  May you invite Him in to do just that.

Peace.

IMG_2167.JPG

Sail boats existing the creek, headed back to the harbor.

 

Day 2: On Fire

 

Everything inside you knows there’s more than what you’ve heard.  So much more than empty conversations filled with empty words

– Switchfoot “On Fire”

This song is stuck there in my head and in my heart.  So I pay attention.

Picture this with me: You walk up to a long knotted wooden counter, bartender says, “Well? What will it be?”.  Your eyes scan shelf after shelf of the thousands of labels on bottles, some reading: Shoes and More, Booze and Xanex, Busy and Distracted, Netflix and ChillAnxious and OverworkedComparison and Hustle.  An ache, an angst, a nagging that  will not let you be.  What bottle will drown it out for the time being?

For mercy sake, no bar actually exists. But our aches are real.  Our attempts to fill the voids are played out.

I’m here to whisper to you, to me: There is more.

266259bb-7173-4b55-acdd-fcea0b925e77

There is One who satisfies every longing.  One who looks at the hungry and feeds them.

Even if you know the One, and you think you’ve explore all there is to explore about him.  There is more.

For those who hear the simple whispers, be encouraged in all you face.  May you turn towards the fire and enter in.

For it is in the fire that overtime all else falls away.  Gold is put in the fire, but will not be consumed.  It will be made pure.  In all its purity, we can watch it gloriously reflect the fire from which it came.

You and I too will reflect the fires from which we came.  There will be stories told because we, hungry for more, stepped into the flames.  Others may see their reflection in our stories.  Enough bravery will rise up for them to step into their fires.

And you’re on fire when He’s near you
You’re on fire when He speaks
You’re on fire, burning at these mysteries

-Switchfoot “On Fire”

May you and I lean into the fire as we look to the One who invites. Come see, there is more!

 

Fresh wind in my sails

I saw Him standing before me with a tender smile upon his face. He approached. Before I knew what had taken place there was this big part of what I believed to be me in his hands. It appeared to be a solid stone birthed from the soil of the earth. A common pebble only a child would find significance in. On this stone was written a word I had not thought of in a long while: victim-less. It was hard to decipher; was this one word or two?

I realized I could not raise my right arm for long, as if my strength had failed. Not only so, I feared my chest would collapse if I held my hand in the air at length. I looked and found the place from which the stone really came. A hole straight through my body just below my right shoulder spanning mid-way down my torso was left in place of the earthen stone. The gapping hole looked weak, unsupported, softly vulnerable.

Then I saw as if the zoom lens had been spun, him working in the hole of emptiness. His hands moved as a skilled mason, creating walls of support. Smoothly cementing the walls of my chest hole so that the tissue around would be held up and not cave in. Already I felt life flow returning to the muscles of my arm.

But he left the hole and giggled in joy as he did. He had no intention of sealing it up with cement. I could feel wind blowing through me. I saw him rather proudly full of laughter reach his arm through the cement lined hole and out the other side of me. It brought him a ridiculous amount of pleasure.

Then I saw something so out of place it made me glance twice. Out of the cement through the tiniest of cracks peaked greenery on all sides. My mind befuddled, I thought, “I haven’t even soil in me to grow such lush green”. So there I stood gapping in amazement at the hole in my chest filing with green life. Things that appeared as trees grew.

I looked at him as he delightfully smiled back at me. His eyes were soft yet full of adventure. And he said, “Do you wanna see?”. Before I could answer I could see through his perspective, as if in his very body. I was starring, from his eyes, through the hole in the bodily form of me. I did not see the wall behind where my body stood. But instead beyond the thick bright brush I saw a world bigger and brighter than I had ever seen. A stream wrapped down the rich landscape with rolling mountains to one side and a beautiful colorful sun dancing its light upon the clouds on the far side.

I returned to my body, but as I did I heard him expectantly believing. He said, “Show them eternity, Lauren Elizabeth.”

  

     He is waiting to speak over you. It is you who are more than enough through the Son. More than a conquerer, you are being made brave. He removes what does not bare fruit that lasts because he excitedly desires the finest of foods for you. Filthy rich in mercy is this jovial king. Rest assured your mind will be blown; he does not dissapoint. He reaches from earth into eternity. Why not through you? He will show you things you cannot imagine, grow things you never thought could bare life. Come Lord stand before us, we want to see.

Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
set these once-broken bones to dancing.
Don’t look too close for blemishes,
give me a clean bill of health.
God, make a fresh start in me,
shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
Don’t throw me out with the trash,
or fail to breathe holiness in me.
Bring me back from gray exile,
put a fresh wind in my sails!

To Find

“Blessing For the Unknown One”

One day our eyes will intertwine.
Respectfully we shall meet,
full like no other greet.
Find yourself hidden in Who is.
In that hiding we will find
this treasure we’ve been patiently awaiting.
Bless you now forevermore.
To Him ’til we meet.

-LW October 9, 2015

We are not defined by our past. None the less the past seems to ripple into the present. But if we are hidden in Him who is, we are “more than overcomers”. Our culture shouts the impossibility of leaving the dirt worn path we chose in the past to find another path in the forest that would lead us to a different future. We chose a career now we are stuck with it the rest of our life. We are diagnosed with a disease and it has its label on us until the day we die. We struggle, so we will always. These are nothing but the gremlin lies of the past.
With Him we find our feet stepping off the clear cut path into the woods with its sweet honesuckle, its thick thorns, and its rugged trees. With leaves crunching underfoot we adventurously and joyously seek a path we know will be walked with the hope we already find filling us amongst the shady winding trees.
May you be brave today. May some of you enjoy freely romping around the woods of the present seeking.

Joy.

Heart strings

There is something there…an intangible string tied to you and me. Who are you? What is this all about? What do I do with this string around my heart? When you aren’t near a very thin thread is tied there, as if I’m not to forget. But to remember what? Who are you, and what purpose is this? This string looks too fragile to tug on, so I’ll let it remain until it is no more. But until then I will carry this remember-ance string with me just in case you are sad or afraid.  Maybe then with open hands can I say, “hi friend”. And just maybe then there will be a slight tug, not from these hands, but another. So you will taste sweet Love because there is no other. How do you untie what was not tied by human hands. Yet how do you be tied to another? With open hands, it’s gotta be the only way.  Who are you? What is behind the facade? But here I go tugging on the fragile string. Maybe I’d do better to watch with open hands.

…And he moved away from there and dug another well, and for that one they did not quarrel. He named it Rehoboth [room], saying, For now the Lord has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.

© 2017 Watt's Well

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑

%d bloggers like this: