Wow hey everyone. It’s been a while since I’ve posted a blog (approximately 5 months) and I’m really very sorry that I haven’t been disciplined in blogging. I’ve posted smaller updates on my Facebook group so I hope that you have had the chance to read those and have seen how God has moved in Zambia, Botswana, Namibia, and Malaysia. I have found that transferring my thoughts and words and stories into written (or typed) thoughts and words and stories is really dang hard. I wish there was more depth and color and emotion than just the letters on your screen. I wish you could see what I have seen. I wish that the words I do have were more eloquent and adequate.
However, in a move of crazy vulnerability I am sharing with you some words from my heart. Straight from a pale pink notebook I keep tucked in my Bible that I have titled “Rough Draft Poetry”. Because you see, I started attempting to write poetry in Botswana (January) after feeling inspired by God’s creation and by two books that I really really like, Hinds Feet on High Places and The Mountains of Spices. I am by no means King David but writing poems and psalms to my King Jesus causes my heart to simultaneously weep and sing. My prayer is that the Father would use this little collection of poems (some are mine and some are not) to show more of his heart towards you.
Psalm 151
My Beloved King Jesus
closer am i bound
to your tender loving-kindness
more deeply i have found
the greater measure of you name
a thousand amens my heart will sound
you took me deeper still
to lands that were guarded and untouched
many places i buried my will
as you said “this death means trust”
My Love, your hands held my bleeding heart
sore and tender to the touch
Dear High Priest of Suffering
at times the healing felt too much
You have shown me seasons within seasons
and grace upon grace
mountains within valleys
on this abandonment race
My heart’s eye is locked,
fixated on your unwavering gaze
you taught my heart a new chord,
my soul a new range of praise
I will exalt you with every breath
Inhale and then release
when worldly comforts became sinking sand
You have brought me peace
From Botswana
??Let me turn my gaze to thee
and behold Love’s holy face
Let me marvel at thy goodness
and accept thy abounding grace
Tune my eyes to see thee working
while my body is still on earth
tune my heart to trust thy promises
and take thee at thy word
If ever my feet stumble
or if ever I may fall
let my lips still praise thee
for thou art Lord of All
The One From My Own Hinds Feet
Oh my Lord behold me
for I am thy True-Child
who I am is in you
for my heart you reconciled
Oh my Lord behold me
I am thy little hand-maiden
Let me have always Acceptance-with-Joy
for your burden is not heavy laden
Oh my Lord behold me
as I become Bearing-the Cost
for the sake of knowing you, Jesus,
I consider all things lost
Oh my Lord behold me
let your words hold roots deep
as I, Trusting-in-Truth,
cling to the vows you will keep
Oh my Lord behold me
your promises I proclaim
for our of darkness into marvelous light
is what gave me this new name
Oh my Lord behold me
to the valley I must depart
you have called me to share your truth,
Shining-in-the-Dark
In Acceptance Lieth Peace (The Mountains of Spices)
In acceptance lieth peace
o my heart be still;
let thy restless worries cease
and accept his will.
Though this test be not thy choice
it is his – therefore rejoice!
In his plan there cannot be
anything to make thee sad:
if it is his choice for thee
take it and be glad.
Make from it some lovely thing
to the glory of thy king.
Cease from sighs and murmuring
sing his lovely grace
this thing means thy furthering
to a wealthy place.
From thy fears he’ll give release
in acceptance lieth peace.
Thy Gentleness Hath Made Me Great (The Mountains of Spices)
Thy gentleness hath made me great,
and I will gentle be.
‘Tis Love that plans my lot, not fate,
Lord teach this grace to me.
When gales and storms thy love doth send
that I with joy may meekly bend.
Thy servants must not strive nor fight,
but as their Master be,
’tis meekness wins, not force nor might
Lord teach this grace to me.
Though others should resist my love,
I may be gentle as a dove.
My Heart is Resting, O My God (by Anna Laetita Waring)
My heart is resting, o my God,
I will give thanks and sing;
my heart is at the secret source
of every precious thing.
Now the frail vessel Thou hast made
no hands but thine shall fill;
for the waters of the earth have failed,
and I am thirsty still
I thirst for springs of heavenly life,
and here all day they rise,
I seek the treasure of Thy love,
and close at hand it lies.
And a new song is in my mouth
To long-loved music set;
Glory to Thee for all the grace
I have not tasted yet
Glory to Thee for strength withheld,
for want and weakness known;
and the fear that sends me to thy breast
for what is most my own.
I have a heritage of joy
that yet I must not see;
But the hand that bled to make it mine
is keeping it for me.
My heart is resting, o my God,
My heart is in thy care;
I hear the voice of joy and health
resounding everywhere.
Thou art my portion, saith my soul,
ten thousand voices say,
and the music of their glad amen
will never die away.
