Her hand trembled as she brushed the last of the dark pitch across the small basket. Is it enough? she wondered surveying her work. How many other baskets had she made over the years, overlain with pitch to hold the water in as she carried it from the river. But this time, there needed to be enough of the dark substance to keep the water out. Thoughts of water filling the basket caused her to drop the brush, the sound of it hitting the dirt floor filled the silence of the room. Covering her face she prayed, Oh, Lord God Jehovah, why why have you brought your people to this time. How Great One, how can you ask this of me?
"Wife," the worried voice of her husband Amram interrupted her thoughts, "you must go now. Soldiers have begun to search this quarter." As he spoke he went to children sleeping in the corner. "Miriam," he whispered, shaking the slim shoulder of his young daughter. Waking, she turned, revealing a small bundle her form had been hiding. Amram gently drew the bundle to him, and paused a moment as if willing time to just stand still. Then without hesitation he stood and quickly placed the tightly bound cloths in the basket. Little eyes, closed for now, revealed a sleeping infant oblivious to the world around him.
"Amram, are you sure? I don't know if I can do this." Jochebed gripped her husbands arm in desperation, hoping some other plan had come to his mind.
"I am sure. We have already decided. Better to give him to God and the river than see his blood on the tip of an Egyptian sword. Now, go swiftly, they will be here soon." Amram closed the basket and firmly drew his wife to the door. Laying his hand on top of hers, he held her gaze steadfast, "We give back unto God what he has given to us. Do not hesitate to do what has been instructed."
Jochebed nodded mutely and looked away searching for words but as she did so a scream rose up in the corridor just beyond their small hovel. A grief stricken scream. The scream of a mother whose infant son was found and murdered. With one last glance at Amram she fled from their home. Making her way in the shadows, she held tightly to the basket, her feet flying stealthily through the night by some miracle. Hearing footsteps she drew herself into a doorway and paused. Small Miriam's face appeared and without a word Jochebed drew the girl to her side and together they moved towards the rivers edge.
Sounds came from all over the quarter now as homes were invaded and searched. Pharaoh's soldiers seeking out any infant male children, murdering them in front of their parents, in an attempt to lessen the growing number of Israelite slaves for fear they might overthrow their captors. Swiftly, as if carried by angels wings, they continued their journey away from what lay behind them. Soon they were rewarded with the sounds of water as it trickled slowly over the rocks and through the reeds, it's peaceful serenity a contrast to the horror just beyond it's shores. Jochebed slowed, her eyes looking keenly for signs of the river creatures hiding just below the waters surface, their yellow eyes the only clue to their presence. They could mean certain death for herself and Miriam as well as destruction to the small basket in her arms. Breathing a sigh of relief at seeing none of the horrible beasts, she found a place close to the waters edge where tall reeds blowing in the wind hid their presence. Unable to resist, she opened the basket, to gaze a final time upon her sleeping baby. Brushing his cheek, she remembered Amrams words, this was God's baby now. Her mothers heart squeezed inside her chest and began to beat madly. How had Father Abraham been able to do it? she questioned, remembering her lineage and the history of her people. Abraham had been called upon by God to sacrifice his only son. Had Sarah, the wife of Abraham known? Jochebed wondered and just as quickly knew that the mother so long ago had also been asked of the Lord if she trusted her husband as well as her God. "Help me to trust in thee, O Lord God of Abraham and Sarah. Just as they trusted in you." Tears mingled with her words, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke. For a moment the wind ceased and peace surrounded the three figures hidden from sight.
"Mama, God says to remember He made a way. Don't you remember the story of Father Abraham? God provided a way with the ram caught in the bushes." Miriams clear bell like voice spoke into her mother's heart. Jochebed looked with surprise at her daughter, had YWYH just spoken to her through the voice of her child? Knowing time ran on to quickly, she placed a kiss on the infant sleeping soundly, thanks to the herbs placed on his tongue. She filled her mind with one last look and closed the lid.
"Make a way God of Abraham." Jochebed prayed one final prayer giving the basket a small push into the current of the river. As the basket began to float away she felt a nudging at her heart. "Follow it Miriam, until you can't see it anymore. You are small, stay hidden. When you can't see it anymore, come home and tell me where you saw it last." Miriam wordlessly left her side, the absence of her presence leaving Jochebed cold.
Has God ever asked you to do something that seemed like more than you could handle?Something you actually fought against Him, like Jonah perhaps running the other way, because you really didn't want to obey His voice. As I study the life of Moses, the initial sacrifice of His mother and father keeps playing over and over in my head. I'm sure there were many families who hid their children in an effort to save their lives from Pharaoh's decree at that time. But hiding them wasn't enough. Were there others who like Jochebed and Amram, instructed of the Lord to give their sons back to Him in a measure of faith. We read of Jochebed because her infant of course grew into the patriarch Moses, but knowing God I don't question He also made a way for many of His Israelite sons. But oh the sacrifice of those mothers and fathers.
I don't doubt that in my walk with Christ I will be called to make sacrifices. In my short thirty-four years I have already had to make many. I have learned how weak I really am in those moments. How powerless I am. We are wired to control, and boy do we try. To control EVERYTHING. And it is this control I realize we have to give up first and foremost. If we can loose ourselves of the control we think we have then all other decisions are so much easier to turn over to God. No matter how big or how small the sacrifice is, when I can realize--God's got this, I can rest knowing His ways are higher than my ways, His thoughts are higher than my thoughts, as stated in the book of Isaiah. Not only that, but His thoughts are not to harm us, ever, even when faced with a challenge we don't think we can bear, the Word says in Jeremiah His thought is to give us peace and hope and a future in Him.
As we read of Jochebed and Amram being called to sacrifice their child's life into the trust of the Lord, as a parent I can't think of too many greater challenges than this. But it is what I am called to do. I have been called for a little while to train up my child in the way he should go, Proverbs 22:6. And then trust in God. What are you being called to trust God with today?Finances, a job, a calling, your time, the health of a loved one. How grateful I am that I can be weak in those moments of uncertainty, for it is in my moment of weakness that He is strongest. (2 Corinthians 12:9) It is the moments of letting go that we are able to truly let Him guide our footsteps.
Today, I pray for more of Him and less of me. For more of his guidance and less of my plans. For His dreams to become mine. Today my oldest son turned thirteen. My challenge this morning has been to truly given him back to God. To know I have trained him, and will continue to do so, but that God will guide him to His will. The same way He guided a little basket down a river, to an expected future that would save His people.
Jochebed, knelt by the fire making the final preparations for the evening meal. She knew today she wouldn't be able to eat, but her husband and son would be home soon needing nourishment after a harsh day of slave labor . She wasn't sure when she would be able to eat again. Pain in her chest reminded her that she would soon have to express some of the mother's milk from her body until it came no more. Sounds of a horse and chariot drew her attention to the doorway.
"Mother," came Miriams excited cry. Jochebed rushed to her daughter, scared she had been captured in the quest she bid her to take that day, but Miriam straightened herself and spoke with a calm past her years. "Mother, you are needed at the palace. The princess says the river gods gave her a baby and they are looking for a wet nurse for the new prince. I told them I knew where to find one." Miriam's eyes twinkled as she flashed a look hidden from everyone else.
"Stay here. See to your father and brother. I will return." Jochebed spoke in a daze, trying to comprehend what her daughter was really saying. Climbing into the chariot, the same soldiers she had feared would take the life of her son now carried her back to him, by royal request. It all happened so quickly. She was taken to the palace, to the rooms of the princess, and there surrounded by a court of royal women lay her infant son. The women chattered away in Egyptian, not even noticing her for some time until one by one they were dismissed leaving her alone with a princess. No one could deny her beauty, standing there in Egyptian linen with no adornment other than a gold circlet around her head, her soft skin glowing against the backdrop of the setting sun. Surprising Jochebed, the princess spoke, in the language of the slaves.
"I am a mother in need of milk, and you are a mother in need of a child. Serve me well and serve this prince well and you will be rewarded." as she spoke she lay the infant in Jochebed's arms. Jochebed looked into the other woman's eyes and their stations in life melted away. Their eyes spoke beyond race, beyond riches, beyond fame. Their eyes spoke a mutual language of love, a mutual language of women. She knows, thought Jochebed. The words would never be spoken aloud, but as Jochebed kneeled before the princess in gratitude she knew the princess knew her to be this child's mother. She also realized the princess was risking her own life in defying her father to save the life of this child. In an instant they were closer than any sister Jochebed ever had. God connected them. God had given a mothers love to the daughter of Pharaoh. Jochebed knew this woman would protect her son. Reaching down, the princess held the baby's hand and said one word, "Moses."
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Imperfection
She held the baby close, breathing in the smell of his sweetness as her nose brushed an impossibly soft cheek. Watching him sleep she wondered to herself, could there be anything more perfect? Her heart swelled with love, and deep inside her she knew no matter what the future brought that this love would never leave her heart. In that moment she was bound forever to this tiny boy, sleeping blissfully, unaware of a world other than his mothers arms.
Have you ever pondered the meaning of perfection? So much of our lives are spent attempting to gain perfection in our homes, our relationships, our jobs, our hobbies, in simply everything we do. It is this drive for perfection that perhaps causes us to miss out on other things going on around us. We become so focused on making something perfect that everything else fades in the background. What we strive for might be different things, but we are all striving for perfection in some area of our lives. And it is exhausting. I'm not saying we shouldn't do our best, do no misunderstand. I'm simply challenging us all to perhaps look at areas where we are striving to be perfect and perhaps reevaluate what PERFECT really is.
I struggle with this daily as a wife and mother. In my eyes a perfect wife will have a spotless home, laundry clean-folded-and put away, healthy organic snacks readily available, a good supper on the table, appointments made and kept accordingly, children well behaved-happy-healthy-and clean, and do you get the picture? While my husband has frequently made a point to say I worry way too much about all that stuff. He wants a kiss when he walks in the door, food-any kind really-in the cabinet, and a bed to sleep in. It has taken me a long time to learn how to be less like the perfect wife in my head and more like the perfect wife in his. I must be truthful and say I still hold myself to many of the standards above, my mother taught me well, but I have learned how to let go (eh hem most of the time) when things don't measure up where I think they should be.
Spiritually, it should come as no surprise, we also seek perfection. After all, we are called to Mark the perfect man and behold the upright for the end of that man is peace. Psalm 37:37. It can seem a daunting task to be a "perfect" Christian. Dear reader, here is my revelation for this day, and the next when you and I once again miss the mark at being perfect. You don't have to be perfect TO BE perfect! I know right, amazing thought. A point others have realized before me, and one we have to realize again and again on a frequent basis.
In the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy, Moses reviews the commandments of God with the Israelite people. In chapter 18:13 he states Thou shalt be perfect with the Lord thy God. This scripture follows instructions to the people telling them not to follow the ways or religions of others around them. The instruction here was not to be faultless but to be sincere, to be upright. To not be fake, to not seek after instruction from someone other than God, but to be free from pretense or deceit, proceeding from genuine feelings which is to be sincere according to Miriam Webster.
God knows we are not perfect. And does He. But as a mother looks down on the perfection of her newborn child, so does God look upon us. As that child grows the imperfections of being human reveal themselves, but true love in a parent loves despite the imperfections. God not only loves us despite ourselves, but He provides a way for us to experience perfection. Here is the glorious, wonderful, fabulous little tidbit to never forget. 1 John chapter 4 tells us God is love. If we dwell in love we dwell in God. Herein is our love made perfect. Therefore, if we love God we love our brethren also. If I am able to love those around me despite their flaws, if I am able to be sincere with them, and show them genuine love, if I am able to love my enemies and do good to those who hate me then I find perfection in Christ. Matthew 5:48.
What promise we are given when we seek after this type of perfection. 2 Chronicles 16:9 says The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show himself strong on behalf of them whose heart is perfect towards him. God's peace and love shall be with you 2 Corinthians 13:11. So today, and the next, instead of attempting to make yourself into a model of perfection, that you will never achieve-that will exhaust you, instead be real. Be yourself, be sincere. And above all, learn to love. And if that task is difficult pray to the one who first loved you, despite every little thing about you that is not perfect.
Dwell in love and you dwell IN perfection despite your IMperfections.
Have you ever pondered the meaning of perfection? So much of our lives are spent attempting to gain perfection in our homes, our relationships, our jobs, our hobbies, in simply everything we do. It is this drive for perfection that perhaps causes us to miss out on other things going on around us. We become so focused on making something perfect that everything else fades in the background. What we strive for might be different things, but we are all striving for perfection in some area of our lives. And it is exhausting. I'm not saying we shouldn't do our best, do no misunderstand. I'm simply challenging us all to perhaps look at areas where we are striving to be perfect and perhaps reevaluate what PERFECT really is.
I struggle with this daily as a wife and mother. In my eyes a perfect wife will have a spotless home, laundry clean-folded-and put away, healthy organic snacks readily available, a good supper on the table, appointments made and kept accordingly, children well behaved-happy-healthy-and clean, and do you get the picture? While my husband has frequently made a point to say I worry way too much about all that stuff. He wants a kiss when he walks in the door, food-any kind really-in the cabinet, and a bed to sleep in. It has taken me a long time to learn how to be less like the perfect wife in my head and more like the perfect wife in his. I must be truthful and say I still hold myself to many of the standards above, my mother taught me well, but I have learned how to let go (eh hem most of the time) when things don't measure up where I think they should be.
Spiritually, it should come as no surprise, we also seek perfection. After all, we are called to Mark the perfect man and behold the upright for the end of that man is peace. Psalm 37:37. It can seem a daunting task to be a "perfect" Christian. Dear reader, here is my revelation for this day, and the next when you and I once again miss the mark at being perfect. You don't have to be perfect TO BE perfect! I know right, amazing thought. A point others have realized before me, and one we have to realize again and again on a frequent basis.
In the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy, Moses reviews the commandments of God with the Israelite people. In chapter 18:13 he states Thou shalt be perfect with the Lord thy God. This scripture follows instructions to the people telling them not to follow the ways or religions of others around them. The instruction here was not to be faultless but to be sincere, to be upright. To not be fake, to not seek after instruction from someone other than God, but to be free from pretense or deceit, proceeding from genuine feelings which is to be sincere according to Miriam Webster.
God knows we are not perfect. And does He. But as a mother looks down on the perfection of her newborn child, so does God look upon us. As that child grows the imperfections of being human reveal themselves, but true love in a parent loves despite the imperfections. God not only loves us despite ourselves, but He provides a way for us to experience perfection. Here is the glorious, wonderful, fabulous little tidbit to never forget. 1 John chapter 4 tells us God is love. If we dwell in love we dwell in God. Herein is our love made perfect. Therefore, if we love God we love our brethren also. If I am able to love those around me despite their flaws, if I am able to be sincere with them, and show them genuine love, if I am able to love my enemies and do good to those who hate me then I find perfection in Christ. Matthew 5:48.
What promise we are given when we seek after this type of perfection. 2 Chronicles 16:9 says The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show himself strong on behalf of them whose heart is perfect towards him. God's peace and love shall be with you 2 Corinthians 13:11. So today, and the next, instead of attempting to make yourself into a model of perfection, that you will never achieve-that will exhaust you, instead be real. Be yourself, be sincere. And above all, learn to love. And if that task is difficult pray to the one who first loved you, despite every little thing about you that is not perfect.
Dwell in love and you dwell IN perfection despite your IMperfections.
Monday, November 5, 2012
The Standard
Time chased her, every precious second propelled her forward, knowing that those seconds meant life to the ones she loved. Her feet barely touched the ground as she hastened toward Moses' tent. All around her wails of grief rose to a feverish pitch, but she refused to acknowledge them. Not now. She had spent the last three days tending to the sick, watching the venom slowly drain the life blood from each one. Snake venom. Snakes with red eyes, their eyes being the only alert to their presence, their dust colored scales blending into the desert sand keeping them hidden until it was too late. At first the venom appeared to do no harm, but mild fevers of two days rose in the night. Rose to deathly heights, and now the cloud of death spiraled through the camp. Many of the creatures were killed, but now there were too many too number, too many to avoid, too many to doubt they were punishment from God. Zipporah halted, a wall of people preventing her from going any farther. Raising her eyes she could just see the top of Moses' tent. Voices mixed with anger and sorrow filled the air, their meanings drowned out by the number of them. Ignoring her own fear, growing in the pit of her stomach, she pushed onward determined to get to that tent but with every step forward she was pushed back two. Panic began to rise , as the crowd surged, overwhelming her and pushing her back farther still, until she lost her footing and fell to her knees. NO. God of Moses, help me. And the wave stopped. Voices quieted. Looking up she watched as the wall of people opened up, revealing a clear path to the tent of Moses. A man strode toward her. A man she knew but her mind too busy to think of his name. He reached down, pulling her gently up.
"Joshua," she said, remembering.
"Make way," he spoke with a calmness surreal to the moment. "Make way for the wife of Moses."
In Numbers 21 we find an account of the Israelites once again complaining that God delivered them from Egypt. They felt their plight in the desert was worse than the slavery they had endured, already taking for granted the freedom given them. And forgetting the sovereignty of God. God, in his right, sent fiery serpents among the Israelites, and it is recorded that after bitten many died. Now whether or not the serpents just bit the unbelievers it doesn't say, and I'm inclined to think the serpents did not take time to determine the innocence of their prey. Most likely the serpents were a natural inhabitant of the desert that God used to perform His will, not some supernatural demon serpents cast down from the heavens, although He of course could cause that to happen as well. Therefore, just like with so many things today, the serpents bit the unjust and the just. I can't imagine living in the wilderness, I can't imagine feeling so hungry and lost I would rather be a slave, I can't imagine experiencing any of the things the Israelites faced. Like many of us are or have been, including myself, many were stubborn and rebellious and doubted God. There doubt, and actions, created consequences to everyone around them. Just like our actions, whether we want them to or not, affect those around us not just we ourselves. At any rate, where am I going with this? Well, read on.
Zipporah made her way into the tent, Joshua standing guard at his usual post outside. Darkness enveloped her and for a moment she groped trying to find her way. Moans, pitiful and quiet, made their way to her ears and guided her to a form prostrate on the ground.
"Oh, Moses." She whispered dropping to her knees beside him, the weight he felt pressing her down as well.
"God, my God. Why hast though forsaken thy people? I know they are stiff necked, I know they don't deserve your mercy. But, I cry out in their place, I cry out for mercy." Moses sobs wracked his body, his words barely audible.
Stroking his hair, Zipporah cried. Hot tears she had not felt in many, many years. Tears of anguish as the one she cherished suffered for a people who did not seem to care. Tears of bitterness as she realized his love for that people took precedence over his love for anyone else, including his family, including her. Only his love for His God triumphed over the passion he felt for the Israelites. A passion that drove him from his home, from his children, from her arms. A passion that had cost him his youth, his health, his happiness. Oh! How undeserving these Israelites. She cried over him a while but the reason for her coming had not been to see Moses, or to weep and pray with him. She was much more selfish than that and God had not given her the passion to love the Israelites more than her own family.
"Moses," she spoke. "I need your help, you must come quickly."
Moses looked up, his tears continuously flowing as if permanent rivers into his beard. Once youthful and bright, his eyes looked dully out at her, understanding of time and place nonexistent, instead holding a look of a place far from reality. "O God, my God," he began to pray again.
"Moses, look at me, hear me. Listen to me." Zipporah clasped his face with her hands, willing him to look at her with his vacant eyes.
"How can I when my people are perishing with every moment. What cause can be greater than this?" he questioned, once again placing the needs of the Israelites before her.
"Not people, Moses," she repeated calmly, long ago learning it would do no good to respond with the anger she felt. "Your son, your grandson. Gershom, your first born, Eliezer his first born. They have been infected, just this morning. Moses they will die like all the others. You must come and pray over them, God will hear you, he will listen to your voice." She could not stop the pleading that crept into her tone, or the sob that wrenched from her throat at the names of her precious son and grandson.
"Do you think their plight worse than those around them? All the encampment has been flooded with the consequence of their murmurings against God. Are they any different than those I pray over now?" His grief poured out of him, a well unleashed.
"Moses, Moses. You won't even go to them. You won't even entreat God specifically for your own son?" Her disbelief rang in her own ears, as well as defeat in the knowledge that nothing she could say would sway him. With a final sob, she rose to her feet, stumbling through the darkness to find her way out. Moses' prayers for Israel continuing behind her. She didn't care about Israel, she didn't care about these stupid people who wanted to return to their land of bondage, she didn't care about this nation who had robbed her of a husband, all that mattered to her, all that was left to her of her life with Moses was her sons, and the children born to them. Children she poured all of herself into, children she lived for, children she would die for. She felt overwhelmed by that flood of consequences, the flood of consequences these stubborn people never seemed to learn from. She would go to them. She would fight for their lives with everything in her, but even as she fought her way back to their beds she knew nothing except the God of Moses could save her children. Her fear was, what it had always been, that only Moses could reach that God.
Have you ever been there? Where Zipporah was, overwhelmed and afraid that your prayers aren't heard by God. Angry at circumstances out of your control, and powerless to change them. Working with all of your might to fix a problem, that deep down you realize is much bigger than you are. I have. I have felt so overwhelmed in floods of circumstances that I thought I would drown, when all I could do was fight to keep my head above water. Alone, even though I wasn't, my prayers seemed as empty shells returning void. In a message recently given at our church (last night to be exact), God reminded me again that there are some battles we simply can't fight. Some battles that are simply WAY bigger than we are. It's not a new message, it's one I have heard before, as I am sure many of you have as well. But this time it struck a chord, one deep down in my heart.
When we attempt to fix problems and fight battles way bigger than we are, well that's when things really get tough. That's when perhaps we make the battle a little harder to handle. Isaiah 59:19 states, When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him. Last night I learned a new concept of what that standard is. A standard is a military term. A signal, or a symbol, or a call to a specific part of the army to act. In battle when it was time for the archers, the standard for archery was given indicating for them to step forward and shoot their arrows. When time for the Calvary to charge, the standard for the Calvary was raised so that all knew it was time to go into battle. A standard held great importance. It kept everything organized. It is what won battles. If the components of the army simply acted whenever they wanted crucial elements of time in a battle were missed and would cost them the victory. Spiritually speaking, God is our commander in chief. He can see the battle above where we are. When it appears that the enemy is overtaking us he raises up a spiritual standard to fight the battle raging in our life. The key is He knows which standard to call in. He knows how to fight this battle and so often we charge in before he has lifted the standard to give us the wisdom or knowledge we need to face the situation. Or the ability to sit still, while he does the work. I admit this is hardest for me. Someone once referred to me as a "Martha", it both complimented and checked me as I do want to work hard for the Lord, but I don't want to be working so hard that I don't take the time to remember what this is all about. That I don't take the time to sit at his feet and give him the adoration he is due. That I don't step in and try to do God's job and fix problems way out of my league.
That's where we find Zipporah. Did this actually happen. Maybe...maybe not. But the Israelites did face this and it is certain that many felt just as we would today. Overwhelmed, alone, and afraid, just as I am portraying Zipporah.
Two days had past. Two agonizing days. Zipporah used all of her skill to fight the venom even now robbing the life from her son and grandson. Every herbal remedy, every concoction taught her, she used. She had prayed too. She had prayed feverishly while she worked, that God would grant her the lives of these two. Hadn't she sacrificed enough in his name? Hadn't she sacrificed her husband to his will? Oh yes, she had prayed. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in frustration, sometimes without thought. It didn't seem to matter, her prayers didn't seem to be heard anyway, and her children were dying in front of her eyes.
"God, Oh God," she cried out her small grandson's breaths became shallow. Broken at last. Her work spent, she had nothing left to try. "God, I can't do it. I can't fight this. I am not able. I need you, they need you. You, oh God who can part a sea, who can send food from heaven, who have written your word on tablets of stone. Hear this mother, if they can't be saved let me die also, for I can't bear it." Her words came, but still she worked. Laying a had to Gershom's head she knew the fever was rising to dangerous heights. She removed his poultice and place another in it's place, willing him to breathe. As she turned to replace the cloth made hot with his fever, she jumped startled at the sight of Moses. So busy she had been, she hadn't heard him enter the room.
"Sit still Zipporah. This is a battle for the Lord." Moses commanded, without looking at her. He strode to Gershom's bedside, holding a staff topped with a brazen serpent, it's ruby eyes flashed red as it's living counterpart.
"Gershom," Moses spoke softly, lifting up the head of his grown child. "Gershom, behold the serpent. God has raised up a standard for us, he has heard our prayers, his standard brings life."
Gershom's eyes, glazed with fever, opened to the voice of his father. His eyes fell upon the brass serpent, and instantly the fever left him. "Father," he rasped, his voice weak only from the dehydration his body had suffered. "Father, I have been in a nightmare. In the darkness were there was only fire." Gershom's face held his fear.
"Fear no longer, my son, the battle is over. The fire is quenched, the standard of the Lord has been raised." Moses spoke, for a moment holding his son close, as he did when he was a child. Quickly they brought the staff to Eliezer and Gershom spoke the same words to his son. The child opened his eyes and sat up quickly, his mischievous nature returning to his smile as if it had never left.
"Savta," he cried out to his grandmother, Zipporah.
Zipporah, standing the entire time in the shadows had no words. She rushed to her grandson, gathering him in her arms, smelling the sweet scent of his hair upon her cheek, the scent of death completely gone from him. She turned as Moses made ready to leave.
"I have to go." He spoke with the same certainty when God had called him back to Egypt, and forever changed the course of their lives.
He touched her hand briefly, the first contact in more years than she could remember. His look holding the love she thought forgotten through the years. It held no promise, no indication that things would change. He was a prophet of God, his work transcended his earthly life. He was not meant to be an ordinary man, purposed only to provide for his family. He served God above all else. And she was his wife. God called her to that, knowing her to be strong enough to bear the sacrifice.
As he left she realized he came to their home first. God instructed him to save his family first. Her heart burst with the love of God as in that moment He promised her Moses would return when his work was done. Not on this day, or the next, but when his calling in this life was complete, his work finished, God would bring them back together for a moment of peace.
Although the Israelites were cursed by God as a consequence to their murmurings, God still raised up a standard for them as a result of the prayers of Moses(Numbers 21:7). The Israelites faced a spiritual battle with their doubt and unbelief and only by expressing belief when they viewed the brazen serpent would they find life. Viewing that brazen serpent sent out a message to the forces at play, announcing we believe, we believe in the One, True God.
As we look farther into the Word we find in John 3:14 and 15, And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life. Ultimately Jesus is our standard. He is the standard we raise when the enemy comes in like a flood. His blood has covered us, through our weakness He is made strong, He will fight our battles. If you find yourself in the middle of a war, maybe a personal one, or one for a loved one. Remember sometimes we have to stand still, put on our strength, raise the standard of Jesus and He will fight our battle.
Blessings,
Laura
P.S. Thank you for allowing me to take poetic justice with very real people, who existed, whose lives we only get a glimpse of when we read the Word, but who all had emotions and fought the same battles we face today.
"Joshua," she said, remembering.
"Make way," he spoke with a calmness surreal to the moment. "Make way for the wife of Moses."
In Numbers 21 we find an account of the Israelites once again complaining that God delivered them from Egypt. They felt their plight in the desert was worse than the slavery they had endured, already taking for granted the freedom given them. And forgetting the sovereignty of God. God, in his right, sent fiery serpents among the Israelites, and it is recorded that after bitten many died. Now whether or not the serpents just bit the unbelievers it doesn't say, and I'm inclined to think the serpents did not take time to determine the innocence of their prey. Most likely the serpents were a natural inhabitant of the desert that God used to perform His will, not some supernatural demon serpents cast down from the heavens, although He of course could cause that to happen as well. Therefore, just like with so many things today, the serpents bit the unjust and the just. I can't imagine living in the wilderness, I can't imagine feeling so hungry and lost I would rather be a slave, I can't imagine experiencing any of the things the Israelites faced. Like many of us are or have been, including myself, many were stubborn and rebellious and doubted God. There doubt, and actions, created consequences to everyone around them. Just like our actions, whether we want them to or not, affect those around us not just we ourselves. At any rate, where am I going with this? Well, read on.
Zipporah made her way into the tent, Joshua standing guard at his usual post outside. Darkness enveloped her and for a moment she groped trying to find her way. Moans, pitiful and quiet, made their way to her ears and guided her to a form prostrate on the ground.
"Oh, Moses." She whispered dropping to her knees beside him, the weight he felt pressing her down as well.
"God, my God. Why hast though forsaken thy people? I know they are stiff necked, I know they don't deserve your mercy. But, I cry out in their place, I cry out for mercy." Moses sobs wracked his body, his words barely audible.
Stroking his hair, Zipporah cried. Hot tears she had not felt in many, many years. Tears of anguish as the one she cherished suffered for a people who did not seem to care. Tears of bitterness as she realized his love for that people took precedence over his love for anyone else, including his family, including her. Only his love for His God triumphed over the passion he felt for the Israelites. A passion that drove him from his home, from his children, from her arms. A passion that had cost him his youth, his health, his happiness. Oh! How undeserving these Israelites. She cried over him a while but the reason for her coming had not been to see Moses, or to weep and pray with him. She was much more selfish than that and God had not given her the passion to love the Israelites more than her own family.
"Moses," she spoke. "I need your help, you must come quickly."
Moses looked up, his tears continuously flowing as if permanent rivers into his beard. Once youthful and bright, his eyes looked dully out at her, understanding of time and place nonexistent, instead holding a look of a place far from reality. "O God, my God," he began to pray again.
"Moses, look at me, hear me. Listen to me." Zipporah clasped his face with her hands, willing him to look at her with his vacant eyes.
"How can I when my people are perishing with every moment. What cause can be greater than this?" he questioned, once again placing the needs of the Israelites before her.
"Not people, Moses," she repeated calmly, long ago learning it would do no good to respond with the anger she felt. "Your son, your grandson. Gershom, your first born, Eliezer his first born. They have been infected, just this morning. Moses they will die like all the others. You must come and pray over them, God will hear you, he will listen to your voice." She could not stop the pleading that crept into her tone, or the sob that wrenched from her throat at the names of her precious son and grandson.
"Do you think their plight worse than those around them? All the encampment has been flooded with the consequence of their murmurings against God. Are they any different than those I pray over now?" His grief poured out of him, a well unleashed.
"Moses, Moses. You won't even go to them. You won't even entreat God specifically for your own son?" Her disbelief rang in her own ears, as well as defeat in the knowledge that nothing she could say would sway him. With a final sob, she rose to her feet, stumbling through the darkness to find her way out. Moses' prayers for Israel continuing behind her. She didn't care about Israel, she didn't care about these stupid people who wanted to return to their land of bondage, she didn't care about this nation who had robbed her of a husband, all that mattered to her, all that was left to her of her life with Moses was her sons, and the children born to them. Children she poured all of herself into, children she lived for, children she would die for. She felt overwhelmed by that flood of consequences, the flood of consequences these stubborn people never seemed to learn from. She would go to them. She would fight for their lives with everything in her, but even as she fought her way back to their beds she knew nothing except the God of Moses could save her children. Her fear was, what it had always been, that only Moses could reach that God.
Have you ever been there? Where Zipporah was, overwhelmed and afraid that your prayers aren't heard by God. Angry at circumstances out of your control, and powerless to change them. Working with all of your might to fix a problem, that deep down you realize is much bigger than you are. I have. I have felt so overwhelmed in floods of circumstances that I thought I would drown, when all I could do was fight to keep my head above water. Alone, even though I wasn't, my prayers seemed as empty shells returning void. In a message recently given at our church (last night to be exact), God reminded me again that there are some battles we simply can't fight. Some battles that are simply WAY bigger than we are. It's not a new message, it's one I have heard before, as I am sure many of you have as well. But this time it struck a chord, one deep down in my heart.
When we attempt to fix problems and fight battles way bigger than we are, well that's when things really get tough. That's when perhaps we make the battle a little harder to handle. Isaiah 59:19 states, When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him. Last night I learned a new concept of what that standard is. A standard is a military term. A signal, or a symbol, or a call to a specific part of the army to act. In battle when it was time for the archers, the standard for archery was given indicating for them to step forward and shoot their arrows. When time for the Calvary to charge, the standard for the Calvary was raised so that all knew it was time to go into battle. A standard held great importance. It kept everything organized. It is what won battles. If the components of the army simply acted whenever they wanted crucial elements of time in a battle were missed and would cost them the victory. Spiritually speaking, God is our commander in chief. He can see the battle above where we are. When it appears that the enemy is overtaking us he raises up a spiritual standard to fight the battle raging in our life. The key is He knows which standard to call in. He knows how to fight this battle and so often we charge in before he has lifted the standard to give us the wisdom or knowledge we need to face the situation. Or the ability to sit still, while he does the work. I admit this is hardest for me. Someone once referred to me as a "Martha", it both complimented and checked me as I do want to work hard for the Lord, but I don't want to be working so hard that I don't take the time to remember what this is all about. That I don't take the time to sit at his feet and give him the adoration he is due. That I don't step in and try to do God's job and fix problems way out of my league.
That's where we find Zipporah. Did this actually happen. Maybe...maybe not. But the Israelites did face this and it is certain that many felt just as we would today. Overwhelmed, alone, and afraid, just as I am portraying Zipporah.
Two days had past. Two agonizing days. Zipporah used all of her skill to fight the venom even now robbing the life from her son and grandson. Every herbal remedy, every concoction taught her, she used. She had prayed too. She had prayed feverishly while she worked, that God would grant her the lives of these two. Hadn't she sacrificed enough in his name? Hadn't she sacrificed her husband to his will? Oh yes, she had prayed. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in frustration, sometimes without thought. It didn't seem to matter, her prayers didn't seem to be heard anyway, and her children were dying in front of her eyes.
"God, Oh God," she cried out her small grandson's breaths became shallow. Broken at last. Her work spent, she had nothing left to try. "God, I can't do it. I can't fight this. I am not able. I need you, they need you. You, oh God who can part a sea, who can send food from heaven, who have written your word on tablets of stone. Hear this mother, if they can't be saved let me die also, for I can't bear it." Her words came, but still she worked. Laying a had to Gershom's head she knew the fever was rising to dangerous heights. She removed his poultice and place another in it's place, willing him to breathe. As she turned to replace the cloth made hot with his fever, she jumped startled at the sight of Moses. So busy she had been, she hadn't heard him enter the room.
"Sit still Zipporah. This is a battle for the Lord." Moses commanded, without looking at her. He strode to Gershom's bedside, holding a staff topped with a brazen serpent, it's ruby eyes flashed red as it's living counterpart.
"Gershom," Moses spoke softly, lifting up the head of his grown child. "Gershom, behold the serpent. God has raised up a standard for us, he has heard our prayers, his standard brings life."
Gershom's eyes, glazed with fever, opened to the voice of his father. His eyes fell upon the brass serpent, and instantly the fever left him. "Father," he rasped, his voice weak only from the dehydration his body had suffered. "Father, I have been in a nightmare. In the darkness were there was only fire." Gershom's face held his fear.
"Fear no longer, my son, the battle is over. The fire is quenched, the standard of the Lord has been raised." Moses spoke, for a moment holding his son close, as he did when he was a child. Quickly they brought the staff to Eliezer and Gershom spoke the same words to his son. The child opened his eyes and sat up quickly, his mischievous nature returning to his smile as if it had never left.
"Savta," he cried out to his grandmother, Zipporah.
Zipporah, standing the entire time in the shadows had no words. She rushed to her grandson, gathering him in her arms, smelling the sweet scent of his hair upon her cheek, the scent of death completely gone from him. She turned as Moses made ready to leave.
"I have to go." He spoke with the same certainty when God had called him back to Egypt, and forever changed the course of their lives.
He touched her hand briefly, the first contact in more years than she could remember. His look holding the love she thought forgotten through the years. It held no promise, no indication that things would change. He was a prophet of God, his work transcended his earthly life. He was not meant to be an ordinary man, purposed only to provide for his family. He served God above all else. And she was his wife. God called her to that, knowing her to be strong enough to bear the sacrifice.
As he left she realized he came to their home first. God instructed him to save his family first. Her heart burst with the love of God as in that moment He promised her Moses would return when his work was done. Not on this day, or the next, but when his calling in this life was complete, his work finished, God would bring them back together for a moment of peace.
Although the Israelites were cursed by God as a consequence to their murmurings, God still raised up a standard for them as a result of the prayers of Moses(Numbers 21:7). The Israelites faced a spiritual battle with their doubt and unbelief and only by expressing belief when they viewed the brazen serpent would they find life. Viewing that brazen serpent sent out a message to the forces at play, announcing we believe, we believe in the One, True God.
As we look farther into the Word we find in John 3:14 and 15, And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life. Ultimately Jesus is our standard. He is the standard we raise when the enemy comes in like a flood. His blood has covered us, through our weakness He is made strong, He will fight our battles. If you find yourself in the middle of a war, maybe a personal one, or one for a loved one. Remember sometimes we have to stand still, put on our strength, raise the standard of Jesus and He will fight our battle.
Blessings,
Laura
P.S. Thank you for allowing me to take poetic justice with very real people, who existed, whose lives we only get a glimpse of when we read the Word, but who all had emotions and fought the same battles we face today.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
With You
Swaying violently, the ship appeared to be loosing it's battle with the sea. Men struggled with the sail, working feverishly to keep the boat upright in the midst of the sudden storm. Voices hollered out, their words lost in the wind, adding to the chaos. One man, clinging to the side of the impossibly small vessel, made his way to the bow of the boat. Waves crashed upon him, claiming his breath and his footing. For a moment he stopped, seeming to surrender to the fight nature had unleashed. What had went wrong? It should have been an easy journey. Only a few hours maybe. How did a simple trip across the sea turn into such a nightmare?
I am a Physical Therapist Assistant at a local hospital. I am blessed because even though I am not Catholic, the hospital is a Catholic organization and so prayer and God are a daily part of the hospital's workings. This week as I went through the motions of my job, which I love by the way, God spoke to me through a patient.
"I'm going to walk today," she said, "and I'm not going to cry." Her previous session with another therapist had ended when her emotions overcame her and she couldn't continue.
"Let's do it!" I said, praying silently her pain would not become too excruciating to stop her from reaching her goal.
As I helped her feeble body, modifying the task as best I could to ease her discomfort, she looked straight into my eyes and said, "There is a reason, there is a reason God is allowing me to go through this."
Her eyes began to fill up with tears as my heart filled with compassion. Assure her. That unmistakable prompting from God caused me to take a moment to stop our session. I reached for her hand, my own eyes welling up as I held the fingers so distorted with arthritis. Taking a deep breath, I let the words being formed in my mind speak to both our hearts, "God wants you to remember, when a storm blows in, storms of life that happen suddenly and don't make sense, he is with you. You are never alone. He is with you."
"And that is why I am not going to cry," she said, her eyes glistening and head held high. We then proceeded to walk quadruple the distance she had managed the previous day, laughing while her family related stories, telling of the spryness and strength of their matriarch.
I left her room with a smile on both our lips and a lighter heart. I know we are told often about how close God is to us, but I know sometimes I forget that and allow small things to steal a little of my joy. In study I came across one of my "strength building" passages. Matthew 6:25 Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink: nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment...verse 32 ...for your heavenly Father knoweth ye have need of all these things... verse33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you... verse 34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.
Finally reaching the bow, the man reached down with one hand, shaking the form lying miraculously still in the bow of the boat. A face peered calmly at him, not seeming to mind the torrential downpour from the sea and rain. "Master," the man hollered, " how can you sleep? We will surely die in this storm." A wave came crashing in causing him to release his grip on the side of the boat. He felt his body lifted up as he allowed the sea to take him, the strength to fight gone from him. Suddenly he was righted, and a hand tied a rope firmly around his waist, securing him to the boat. He watched as the man he called Master stood, seemingly unaffected by the storm.
With hand outstretched his Master spoke, his words quiet, authoritative, and amazingly audible "Peace, be still."
In the space of a moment the storm ceased, as suddenly as it began. Waters relaxed and lapped quietly against the side of the boat. Still holding firmly to his life saving rope, the man felt a mixture of awe and fear. Sensing his companions coming along side him, he knew they too were spell bound watching the Master of the wind and sea.
Turning, eyes of compassion and understanding greeted his, as his Master questioned, "Where is your faith?"
It was not a rebuke. Merely a call to belief. A call to understand. A call to recognize the Master of the World.
Shaking, the man bent his head, realization assuring his heart. Doubt washed away with the storm. For before him stood the Messiah.
Today my prayer is that I never fail to recognize that God is in control of my life. No matter what storms come my way. Those that are spiritual, and those that are just part of life, all are in the hands of the Master.
I am a Physical Therapist Assistant at a local hospital. I am blessed because even though I am not Catholic, the hospital is a Catholic organization and so prayer and God are a daily part of the hospital's workings. This week as I went through the motions of my job, which I love by the way, God spoke to me through a patient.
"I'm going to walk today," she said, "and I'm not going to cry." Her previous session with another therapist had ended when her emotions overcame her and she couldn't continue.
"Let's do it!" I said, praying silently her pain would not become too excruciating to stop her from reaching her goal.
As I helped her feeble body, modifying the task as best I could to ease her discomfort, she looked straight into my eyes and said, "There is a reason, there is a reason God is allowing me to go through this."
Her eyes began to fill up with tears as my heart filled with compassion. Assure her. That unmistakable prompting from God caused me to take a moment to stop our session. I reached for her hand, my own eyes welling up as I held the fingers so distorted with arthritis. Taking a deep breath, I let the words being formed in my mind speak to both our hearts, "God wants you to remember, when a storm blows in, storms of life that happen suddenly and don't make sense, he is with you. You are never alone. He is with you."
"And that is why I am not going to cry," she said, her eyes glistening and head held high. We then proceeded to walk quadruple the distance she had managed the previous day, laughing while her family related stories, telling of the spryness and strength of their matriarch.
I left her room with a smile on both our lips and a lighter heart. I know we are told often about how close God is to us, but I know sometimes I forget that and allow small things to steal a little of my joy. In study I came across one of my "strength building" passages. Matthew 6:25 Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink: nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment...verse 32 ...for your heavenly Father knoweth ye have need of all these things... verse33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you... verse 34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.
Finally reaching the bow, the man reached down with one hand, shaking the form lying miraculously still in the bow of the boat. A face peered calmly at him, not seeming to mind the torrential downpour from the sea and rain. "Master," the man hollered, " how can you sleep? We will surely die in this storm." A wave came crashing in causing him to release his grip on the side of the boat. He felt his body lifted up as he allowed the sea to take him, the strength to fight gone from him. Suddenly he was righted, and a hand tied a rope firmly around his waist, securing him to the boat. He watched as the man he called Master stood, seemingly unaffected by the storm.
With hand outstretched his Master spoke, his words quiet, authoritative, and amazingly audible "Peace, be still."
In the space of a moment the storm ceased, as suddenly as it began. Waters relaxed and lapped quietly against the side of the boat. Still holding firmly to his life saving rope, the man felt a mixture of awe and fear. Sensing his companions coming along side him, he knew they too were spell bound watching the Master of the wind and sea.
Turning, eyes of compassion and understanding greeted his, as his Master questioned, "Where is your faith?"
It was not a rebuke. Merely a call to belief. A call to understand. A call to recognize the Master of the World.
Shaking, the man bent his head, realization assuring his heart. Doubt washed away with the storm. For before him stood the Messiah.
Today my prayer is that I never fail to recognize that God is in control of my life. No matter what storms come my way. Those that are spiritual, and those that are just part of life, all are in the hands of the Master.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Order my Steps
Hot did not begin to describe the unrelenting beating of the sun's rays. No water, no trees, no rock, just sand as far as the eye could see. No road or markings led in any direction. A lone figure on the horizon fell, knees buckling under the weight of his circumstance.
"It is too much" he murmured, for he had not the strength to cry out. I'm going to die here.
NO.
His head snapped up, looking for the voice shouting at him. He found only sand. Lowering his head, he felt the blazing heat sapping his remaining strength.
GET UP.
Fear renewed his strength and he leaped up, looking for the voice. Laughing, he surveyed the desert. Nothing had changed, still sand for miles. I'm surely going mad.
WALK.
"I don't know which way to go." His voice, barely audible, screamed his defeat.
JUST WALK.
And so he walked, with a strength not his own, in the direction his feet took him.
How many times do we find ourselves wondering which way to go? What decision to make? Which choice is best? Does it seem easier to make those decisions when our health, finances, and family are in order? When the world is in our favor, those decisions don't seem as daunting and the consequences don't seem as significant.
Biblical thougt. If Moses had to experience the desert before making the choice to reveal his identity, would he have chosen to remain a prince of Egypt? Once cast in the desert, wandering in the sun, his flesh must have warred within him, questioning the decision he made, questioning the God who brought him to that moment.
How many times I have faced this same battle. God I feel like I'm in the heat here, wandering, I don't know which way to go. I don't know which way to step. Surely it would be better if I just stopped.
And the still small voice of God says, "JUST WALK".
Psalms tells us, the steps of a righteous man are ordered by the Lord. It doesn't say what condition or in what place the righteous man is in, does it? Today, if you find yourself in a desert or in a rose garden, remember your steps are ordered of the Lord, and even if it doesn't make sense, even if it seems unbearably hot, rest assured God knows where he is taking you.
Years after coming out of the desert, Moses stood in awe of the Unnamed One's glory, at the foot of Mount Sinai. Life far from the palace but full of a wealth he never dreamed possible. Egypt's palace life ahad become a distant memory. Today his feet led him down a path unknown but once again something propelled him forward. Suddenly, a light blinded his eyes, and a wave of heat took his breath away. Looking up, he beheld a bush a light with fire, yet there was no smoke for the bush did not burn.
MOSES.
Dropping to his face, he wept, hearing once again the voice from the desert, onlythis time much louder and much stronger. Certainty flood through him. The God of his fathers had led him through the desert for this moment.
You see, God has a plan for you. He is guiding your footsteps through every situation, to bring you to a burning bush: a revelation of his plan for your life. Keep in the word. Remain steadfast in prayer. Make your decisions with confidence knowing God is ordering your steps. Psalm 37:23.
"It is too much" he murmured, for he had not the strength to cry out. I'm going to die here.
NO.
His head snapped up, looking for the voice shouting at him. He found only sand. Lowering his head, he felt the blazing heat sapping his remaining strength.
GET UP.
Fear renewed his strength and he leaped up, looking for the voice. Laughing, he surveyed the desert. Nothing had changed, still sand for miles. I'm surely going mad.
WALK.
"I don't know which way to go." His voice, barely audible, screamed his defeat.
JUST WALK.
And so he walked, with a strength not his own, in the direction his feet took him.
How many times do we find ourselves wondering which way to go? What decision to make? Which choice is best? Does it seem easier to make those decisions when our health, finances, and family are in order? When the world is in our favor, those decisions don't seem as daunting and the consequences don't seem as significant.
Biblical thougt. If Moses had to experience the desert before making the choice to reveal his identity, would he have chosen to remain a prince of Egypt? Once cast in the desert, wandering in the sun, his flesh must have warred within him, questioning the decision he made, questioning the God who brought him to that moment.
How many times I have faced this same battle. God I feel like I'm in the heat here, wandering, I don't know which way to go. I don't know which way to step. Surely it would be better if I just stopped.
And the still small voice of God says, "JUST WALK".
Psalms tells us, the steps of a righteous man are ordered by the Lord. It doesn't say what condition or in what place the righteous man is in, does it? Today, if you find yourself in a desert or in a rose garden, remember your steps are ordered of the Lord, and even if it doesn't make sense, even if it seems unbearably hot, rest assured God knows where he is taking you.
Years after coming out of the desert, Moses stood in awe of the Unnamed One's glory, at the foot of Mount Sinai. Life far from the palace but full of a wealth he never dreamed possible. Egypt's palace life ahad become a distant memory. Today his feet led him down a path unknown but once again something propelled him forward. Suddenly, a light blinded his eyes, and a wave of heat took his breath away. Looking up, he beheld a bush a light with fire, yet there was no smoke for the bush did not burn.
MOSES.
Dropping to his face, he wept, hearing once again the voice from the desert, onlythis time much louder and much stronger. Certainty flood through him. The God of his fathers had led him through the desert for this moment.
You see, God has a plan for you. He is guiding your footsteps through every situation, to bring you to a burning bush: a revelation of his plan for your life. Keep in the word. Remain steadfast in prayer. Make your decisions with confidence knowing God is ordering your steps. Psalm 37:23.
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