Lilley of the field

Right before Jesus leaves earth after rising from the grave he tells his friends, "Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit , teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always until the end of the age." (Matthew 28: 19-20) - - - - -  The skies were grey and the rain poured hard. The heavens unleashed their grace and lavished us with good, unexpected things. Instead of heading to Lake Hartwell for baptisms the way our church normally does due to the rain, our plan B became driving over to a Baptist Church and celebrating baptisms there. There was minor disappointment and a wonder among some if it would mean as much to be baptized in a place that had no personal or emotional ties for us at DCF. The pews stretched out across their sanctuary. Jesus was etched in colorful glass in each window depicting scenes from his life. I walked past Jesus in Gethsemene, Jesus on the cros...

I've been trying to concoct words for this post. How can I describe something so significant with words? How can I do it justice? Aaron and I are getting baptized this Sunday. But the part that I've been trying to write about is my story. Being baptized it a public declaration of one's faith and a symbol representing the burial, death, and resurrection of Jesus. As believer's we enter into this and claim Jesus as our Savior. Saving us from our sin and bonding and saving us from eternity separated from God. Along with baptism, comes the sharing of our testimony. We give witness to what God has done in our lives. I struggle with this sometimes because I don't have a shocking story. There's no bolt of lightning. I cannot even pinpoint one actual day in which I accepted Christ. My growth and faith as been gradual having grown up in the church. I often believe the lie that my story is insignificant. This week, I had been particularly struggling with that beca...

The flowers we planted last fall are coming up green, alive, and full. I was skeptical last fall. Our hands were dirtied as we buried iris bulbs, hostas clumbs, daylilies, and tulip bulbs. Our backs were sore from shoveling dirt. Then winter came and there was nothing but barreness. What if we didn't plant them deep enough, shallow enough, water enough, fertilize enough? Then the air turned warm and the sun and rains called forth the leaves. They unfurled overnight and spring arrived. The fruit of our labor arrived as well. This spring we continue to plant. Weed. Dig. Plant. Cover. Mulch. Water. Repeat. There's a saying for perennials: first they sleep, then they creep, then they sweep. It takes three years until they are incredibly established and blooming and full. Part of me doesn't want to wait that long. I want the blooms now, the weeds completely gone, the barren patches full. The land around us only mirrors our heart within us. There is time to wait until the...

My eyes, they drink in the deep waters,       where my feet have never walked. I see the places beyond the depths      where my feet would not tread on soft, familiar sand      where my safety is less understood      where the cool blue becomes piercing and the waters unknown. My heart beats as I watch the tide come in and go out. My heart yearns for the deep as I watch the sun slip down over the edge. My heart stirs as the rainbow plunges beneath the glass. I want to know the deep. The deep of the waters call to the deep of my soul. I wade out further and further until I can stand no more. I must go further. I want to know the deep. I swim. I let the water carry me and the waves wash over me. Freedom finds me and takes over. Laughter surges from deep within. Liberation in my lungs. The deep blue embraces me and fills my soul. Refreshed, I swi...