The Wrinkle of Time

Hands. Paper thin skin, like parchment paper. A lifetime etched on those bent scrolls. Every mark a testament of a lover's hand held, faces of dear children caressed and comforted, years of factory work. Those hands that raised little ones into adults, those hands that laid on the sick and prayed healing, those hands raised in worship, those hands clasped in fervent prayer. Holy hands.

Eyes. Rheumy, the seas of time washed over them. Eyes that have seen the beginnings of a century fighting its way through the birth of industry and technology. Automobiles, wars, radio, television, moon landings. Those eyes watching little children grow up into beautiful adulthood, those eyes beholding grandchildren. Eyes that have beheld the hardness of life, and the goodness of God. They still have their snap and sparkle. Dulled in vision from macular degeneration, but with clarity to see the hand of God working constantly on the behalf of family.

Legs, once strong enough to dance the night away to the tune of a fiddle, now tremble and shake when standing to rise. But those legs have stood firm on the Word and promises of God. Those knees have worn holes in carpet in hours of prayer.

We wear the tattoos of life on our bodies. Etched wrinkles each bearing witness to worry or laughter. Age spots that reflect a lifetime of standing in the warm sunshine. Arthritic fingers bent with the decades running across black and white keys. Knees calloused and thickened from leaping in athletics or bowed in prayer.

We are stunned when a yet unscarred, unmarked body passes. The smooth skin yet unwrinkled ages us further. Young hands left cold with much left to accomplish cause our own in clench at the injustice.

But a life well marked, we forget that those bodies once danced. Once fought. Once served. We forget that a lifetime is etched in what we bleach and fill and pay to buff out. We forget that ears that have heard the cacophony of a lifetime are so acutely tuned into the voice of God, and that they hear our conversation about them.

For some, those marks bear pain. Perhaps lines of addiction mar the forehead rather than years of laughter. Perhaps alcoholism has etched its mark. But even in those, redemption may be found.

We were never intended to bear any mark but that of the Creator. It is the fall that causes us to wear our lives so clearly. Yet, as He so often does, even in the marks of hard living, He can redeem and transform.

When the twilight of life blinks in glassy eye, when once strong legs betray us by buckling and trembling, and when twisted hands clasp in prayer again....The Creator beckons. He takes gnarled hands and transforms them into the smooth straight hands of youth. He bids rise, and trembling legs are strengthened and lengthened that they may once again dance in the Presence of a King. One by one, those years of earthly living are erased and give way to the smooth and clear skin of eternity.  Those eyes, glassy from all that has been seen, are clear and behold every mystery from the beginning of time.

The veil lifts.
Forever.

Be Brave

I had no idea when The Lord dropped the "BRAVE" theme in my life what that would mean. It meant walking through a  health situation with my husband. It meant resigning from a job I loved and that provided stability for me. Being brave  meant embracing the realities of homeschool, of launching a daughter off to college ( in just a few short weeks) and of overcoming my addiction to food and purposing to live a life of health and moderation. Being brave meant driving down to Los Angeles last week and meeting my biological brother for the first time. Brave meant trusting The Lord to provide for our needs with a diminished income due to my resigning. It meant being obedient when The Lord dropped The Clean Queen business idea into my life, and being brave meant pursuing that all out even though it scared me. Brave means facing a new normal with my sweet grandmother as she encountered a slight bump in her 97 years here on the earth. Being brave means welcoming restoration and choosing love to obtain freedom from the bondage of the past.

Through it all, I've learned that being brave does not mean that I'm not afraid. It doesn't mean that I don't get overwhelmed. It doesn't mean that I don't need support and encouragement. Being brave doesn't mean loneliness and isolation. What is does mean is that I choose faith over fear and trust in God. It means in my moments when I'm overwhelmed I get my praise on, and begin singing and proclaiming the goodness of my God. Being brave means admitting I need help, that I cannot do it alone. Bravery is sometimes surrender. Raising the white flag and arms raised, giving it all up. Bravery  looks different to different people. Some see bravery as victory only. Sometimes, bravery is getting up after defeat and pressing on.


I can only imagine the other areas of my life that God is going to teach me bravery this year. Life shifts instantly. We are a vapor. Here and then gone. So I will not assume I know what is next. But this I do know. He has made me Brave. (Bethel Music Album) He has called me out upon the water, the great unknown, where feet may fail (Oceans- Hillsong) I'm holding onto hope, I'm  holding onto grace, I'm fully letting go, I surrender to Your grace (Anchor- Bethel Music) And I know that You are for me, I know that You are for me, I know that you will never forsake me in my weakness (Kari Jobe)

Thank you Jesus for loving me too much to leave me like I am. Thank You for restoration, for healing, for provision, and for promise. Thank You for never leaving me, and for always working for my good. Teach me to brave Jesus. I trust in You, in Your goodness, and in Your mercy. You hold my life and ever moment. May every word I say and every moment bring glory to the Name above all names.

I love You Lord. I worship You. You are our God, You alone are good. (Hillsong United)