A dream from Jehovah Shammah

Last night I had a dream. In this dream, I was standing in a church with a group of friends talking when suddenly one of them said, “Oh no! I forgot I was leading worship today, I need to go set up!” She then turned to me and said, “Come on, we have to go sing.” I was very confused because I didn’t know I was suppose to lead worship and I didn’t remember volunteering because I had recently discovered my voice was really weak, so I wasn’t well suited for it in this season. But I followed her into the sanctuary. We had about 10 minutes before the service started. The church was huge, and we walked up onto a big stage where a woman was playing a piano beside a bunch of microphones and music stands. I asked my friend, “Are you sure that we’re leading today? Someone is already playing.” She stopped to check the schedule and informed me that the woman was our accompanist. Then the next 10 minutes were filled with a bunch of scrambled chaos: The music had to be printed, but there were issues with how it printed and with a slow printer; we had to rearrange the setup, but the cords and stands were a tangled mess and hard to move, at one point I tried to reach for a microphone and it came disconnected from the cord and started hissing; as tech support came to help, people started filing into the room; there was a room divider that was partly lowered over the front of the stage that had to be raised; someone tried to help read something for us and couldn’t read; I didn’t know the songs I was suppose to be helping lead; the accompanist suddenly left because she was sick and the other singers were nowhere to be found…everything we tried to do to help order things or move them along failed, every step forward was met with multiple steps back, all of the pieces of the team and the technology were stripped away and by the time the service was to start it was me and my friend and our small acapella voices. The pastor said to us, “Don’t let this set you back.” And my friend said, “It’s time to lead worship.”

We looked at each other and the people in front of us waiting, and we opened our mouths and we began to worship the Lord. Our voices were small, but after a line or two, we found ourselves suddenly accompanied by the most beautiful heavenly music I had ever heard. It filled the room and wrapped itself around our meager voices giving them strength and drawing from us a deeply renewed and heartfelt sound. The room was soon filled with a resounding song of praise and worship as every voice joined with the heavenly music, each of us singing with all our might, “And He shall reign forevermore, forevermore!”

And then I woke up.

When I woke up the second time, I head this name spoken over me again and again: Jehovah Shammah. I looked up its meaning. Jehovah Shammah means “The Lord is there.”

I’ve been in a hard season. Before I had gone to sleep, I had been on my face before the Lord weeping, repenting, confronting my lack of faith. So emptied of faith am I in one specific area that I finally had to acknowledge to both myself and the Lord that I simply no longer believe a promise He had given me. My hands that had clung and the hope that had held were too weak, the efforts for a different story and a new measure had come up empty too many times, the years had worn me down with discouragement and resign…and though I believe the Lord is who He says He is, my confidence in His promise to me has been lost in the eroding avalanche of my weakness. And I grieved as I declared His worth and offered Him my worship void of expectation of help.

And He gave me this dream and this declaration. 

 

“The Lord is there,” He whispered over me as I slept. He is there when all is stripped away; when efforts fail and time is too short and chaos crushes out peace; when the inadequate measure I walked in is tested and found wanting in new ways as the situation changes before me; when human fortifications are faulty; when every set back has left me certain that there’s no way forward; when in that place, I worship still. He is there. Reigning still, able to provide the missing measure with beauty that draws from deeper wells. Reigning forever, worthy of worship and accepting even the most meager sound that dares fall from the most unseemly mouth.

And I don’t know if you resonate with any of this, but I thought maybe there was someone who needed to be reminded with me that not only is there a God, but He is Jehovah Shammah; very present and full of grace.

heralding the end of a reign

a broken reign
©11/13/2023 hannah mclean

a broken reign
my knees no more will bend
my King bent low
that death’s cruel rule would end
bound in His mercy I
find love a noble steed
now raised I ride with Him
as one who’s free indeed

a broken reign
sin’s barren throne no more
a royal carpet rolls
red paves the temple floor
bound in the Father’s love
peace spills across this stone
now wrapped in holy light
no more to walk alone

a broken reign
replaced by worthy King
righteous and just
His rule my joy to sing
bound in the hope of life
eternal courts I’ll stride
in heavenly unity
i even now abide

God of Jacob

 “The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
He utters His voice, the earth melts.
The Lord of Hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.”
Psalm 46:6–7

a prayer as the nations rage and the kingdoms totter:

©10-17-2023 hannah mclean

o God of Jacob
willing to wrestle
with the wayward, wounded and weary

rest You mighty hand
upon my heart
and mark me
with the limp of Your choosing
that i may never walk without You

for in You
is love and life and light

"taste and see"

Ephesians 4:22–24 "...put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness."

loss of likeness

©8-15-2023 hannah mclean

 

“taste and see”
his hiss like honey
dripping from deceitful lips
“eat and be like God
knowing what He knows”

and eve
encased in the beauty of
her senses
saw
and desired
and so she tasted
and she saw

she saw that she had exchanged
likeness for knowing

eve had been created like God—
righteous and holy—
serpents ploys
and forbidden trees
could not more likeness make
in hindsight
she could see that
they could only take
for likeness was not in knowing
what God knew
but in the innocence of allowing
God to know
revealing and withholding
by His own wise measure

she tasted
and she saw
but all the knowledge of good and evil
could not bring back what was lost

until the cry of Yeshua
rose forth like a conquering roar
resounding through the despair
“taste and see
that the Lord is good
partake in My body
given for you
look full in My face turned
with love toward you”

Happy birthday to me?

I have a complicated relationship with my birthday. Not because I’m getting older, that part is fine with me. My struggle is that I have no idea how to celebrate my own birthday. I’ve NEVER known how to celebrate my birthday. I know how to be grateful I am alive, but birthdays are more than that to me. To me, a birthday is a day for you to celebrate the existence of someone you love. To consider them and take the time to articulate, “I’m glad you are here, the world is better because you are in it.”

My birthday for me feels less like a celebration and more like untangling myself from deep aches of the past. As a child, I remember waking up every year on my birthday and wondering if anyone would remember; they always did, but I always assumed I’d be forgotten and struggled to regulate the internal emotions of intensely hoping that someone would celebrate me paired with the fear that no one would.

As a young adult, I spent a lot of years alone. Because I didn’t know how to make connections to people, I never really had friends. When it was my birthday, I would make my way home because there I knew I would find people who were grateful I was alive. But even “home” became divided with one half counting me as nothing.

And so my birthday feels a lot like standing in front of a room full of people not knowing what to do with my hands. Awkward because I’m suppose to celebrate, but instead I find myself working to be internally convinced that it really is ok that I exist.

So today I am choosing to be grateful for the people who love me and for the 6 beautiful humans that make visible the fact that my life brought something good into the world.

But I’ll still be grateful when it’s over. I’m much more comfortable thanking the Lord for my daily life and leaving the obligation that I celebrate another year of my existence behind for the next 365 days.

A poetic journey through Ephesians: Part 2

EPHESIANS 2–3
©7-2023 hannah mclean

 

what is the dead man walking?
hidden spirit dead
while the visible shell that houses the decay
stretches forth its frame
what attributes flow forth?
the stench of fallen man
pushing through physical body’s growth
reminding us of our desperate need
for a redeemer

the dead spirit is unable to corral
the passions of the living flesh
and so our desires hold the reigns
as the body and mind
relish our bondage
to their sin-bent whims

they nurture the fallen nature
perpetuating
the separating
keeping the image bearer
far off
from the One whose
kind and immeasurable grace
promise the life
the freedom
and the nearness
we were made for

He stands at our arms length
with His face toward us
longing to lift us
from children of wrath
to full maturity of manhood
because the dead
have no ability to grow

--------

“remember your separation”
He says
“do not forget that you were once hopeless
because you held no promise
do not let the godless life you once lived slip your mind
remember what it feels like to be without Me
remember your separation”

have you ever wondered why Jesus
did not tell us
“remember My birth”
instead He said
“remember My death”

our exaltation of the Lord
and the glory we bring to Him
will find its measure there
for grace stretches lower than our darkest valley
and rises
and with it rises the praise, the wonder, the worship
in measure

so we must not forget

we must remember that we were separated
lest we forget to marvel at our unity
we must remember what it feels like to be hopeless
lest we shut our hearts to the wonder of hope
we must remember how we walked without God
lest we grow dull to the miracle of being forgiven
we must remember life alone
lest we overlook God with us
we must remember the debt He paid
lest we minimize His sacrifice

our redeemed eyes search out
stretch for
prefer the comfort of light
but it is only when we remember the contrast
of darkness
that we will know the Light for Who He is

 

---------

Father
what does it mean to walk
with the knowledge of resurrection?

to know

to be intimately acquainted with
both the grave and the lifting from it
to understand fully that there is One
who is not only ABLE
to make all things new
but whose desire to redeem the dead
is so great
He gave Himself to do it
and in the pouring out of such great affection
He stayed
to dwell in and with His blood-bought own

to walk with the knowledge of resurrection
is to look into the face of the darkness
with its raging passions
and its hostile reactions
and its fervent insistence on destroying
all that it veils
and to hold out a light
that pushes it aside
with the promise that darkness is not all there is

to walk with the knowledge of resurrection
is to hold out the hand
sliced and diced by the shards of the brokenness
within and without
and know that there is One who can
put it all back together

to walk with the knowledge of resurrection
is to know with certainty
that every despair can lay hold
of hope that does not put to shame
because within our chest
is a heart of beating flesh
that once rang with the sound of beating stone
a life-giving evidence that accompanies
the faith that things can be different

to walk with the knowledge of resurrection
is to know that what flows from the Father’s heart
is greater than
deeper than
wider than
higher than
the expanse to which the darkness can stretch
it is to walk in the victory of grace
a conduit through which His excellencies can flow

for the one with the knowledge of resurrection
has borne witness to
the finished work of Christ
had taken part in the sanctifying work of the Spirit
and understands that resurrection
only stems from One source

--------

ONE
one in Christ and
one with Christ

when the Father said that His plan
for all of time
is to unite all things to Himself
we find wrapped up in the fulfilling work of His purpose
a beautiful, inescapable thread of unity
it winds itself through every Saint
sewing together what was broken and
bringing them into inseparable relationship
with the One who both made and remade them whole
and in their mending
melding them with each other
to form one glorious work of grace
a living temple for the Holy Holy Holy
a body for the Son to rule upon
a canvas on which to display
both the wisdom and splendor of
the One true God’s
mind and hands and heart

it is in the making of ONE
the uniting of all things
in the peace that brought human and divine
together
in the crumbling of the hostility
between us and our Lord
between us and each other
between us and creation
that the vision of every created being
clears
allowing us to behold what has been made visible
by the weaving of the thread
and the fulfillment of Love’s good intention

it is in the making of ONE
where we can find and feel and know and proclaim
the excellencies of the Almighty
and the wonders of His grace

it is in the making of ONE
where we can reach our hands
bound together by this scarlet, blood-soaked thread
into the depths of the Father’s heart
and delight in what only can be touched together

it is in the making of ONE
where the fullness of Christ’s work
meets the fullness of the Spirit’s work
and displays the fullness of the Father’s heart
that we will find ourselves filled with the fullness of God

there are not words to describe
no context for the mind to conceptualize
there is only wonder to be declared
that causes the eyes to look up
endlessly and expectantly

for it is in the ONE
that we find both our purpose for being
and our promise for becoming

--------

rooted and grounded in love
the baseline
for comprehending
width and depth
and height and length
of the heart of God

to put down roots

anchored to the ground

established
in a foundation worthy to build upon

there is a moment in every believer’s life
when their feet step onto the declaration of love
that streams from the mouth of God
and their roots strike

we could walk out a thousand
commands
and miss the heart
for if we never find ourselves
winding our fingers around
the gift of His affections
our feet will one day
walk on by
unable to recognize the paths
that lead us deeper into comprehension

rooted and grounded in love

from this place where faith takes hold
of holy love
we find ourselves planted
and the Spirit makes for growth

in the hidden place
roots plunge into the depth
wrestling over rocks and dirt
forging through resistance
in pursuit of the living water
Jesus promised the thirsty
deeper and deeper
into the depths of the Father’s heart

while in the light of day above
the world watches
the trunk thickens
the branches stretch upward
and outward
reaching toward the Son
ready to bear fruit
that stems from Love and Life itself

and in unity we find
that the paths of our companions
bear witness also;
the saints of God beside us
proclaiming the excellencies of His
heartbeat
as it echos to dimensions
we can only lay eyes on
as it finds its way to us
upon the testimonies of another

for His love marks
the ones it touches
as flood reshapes
and fire refines

oaks of righteousness
He calls us
plantings of the Lord
a display of His glory

and when established,
to the redeemed is given
the privilege of taking part
in the rebuilding
the raising up
the repairing of
what sin has left broken, bent and distorted
resurrected and free
for the sake of world
to the praise of His glorious grace

may our roots strike
that we may withstand the weight
of the wonder of what lies
within the markings
and makings of grace

A poetic journey through Ephesians: Part 1

I have been studying the book of Ephesians this Summer. Each month I have been sharing things I've learned and poetry that has flowed from my time with the Lord as I meditate on the beauty contained in those 6 small chapters. Ephesians is one of the most beautiful books in the Bible; it is a declaration of the Truth of who God is, what He has done and what that means for us...a foundation upon which to build a worshipful heart. I have decided to share the poetry apart from the teaching on this blog.

 

------- 

 

Ephesians 1:15–21 For this reason, because I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come.

 

EPHESIANS 1

©6/2023 hannah mclean  

 

we must ask not just
what is the hope to which He has called us
but what is the means by which
He has called

grace

blessed grace
heavenly grace
lavish, glorious grace
loving grace
purposeful grace
praise-worthy grace
persistent, pursuing, purifying grace
holy grace
mysterious grace
redeeming grace
life-giving, unifying grace
saving grace
sealing grace

His grace is not reckless
haphazard
flippant
it is carefully measured
to hit its desired mark
intentioned to bring about the greatest good
for you and for me
and for all of broken humanity
at whatsoever depth we have burrowed
 

------

 

to be holy and blameless.
when the image of God was unhidden
on full display upon and within
human flesh
when knowledge of evil
had not yet weighed so heavily
that it bent the image bearer
distorting the goodness
opening the eyes to what was lost
and opening the flesh to
the pain of loss

the fall jolted man and woman
pushing the glory of innocence
outside their reach
closing the door of unhindered fellowship
with the One who made them
as they became debtors
working to worship
instead of beholders
ever flowing with it

and yet He from whom all blessings flow
brought forth His Son
His very self
a bridge foreknown
to offer us a way
to stand once again
the display of His image
and the beauty of His likeness
in the splendor of holiness
proclaiming through our washing
both the praise of His glory
and the wonder of His grace

------

the Divine seeks intimacy
with the dust

uncreated Deity
draws forth life with His holy hands
breathing upon it with His holy breath
imprinting it with His holy image

looking upon it with His holy eyes

He declares to it His holy love
and marks it with His holy affections

intending it to be His holy own

who could not marvel
at such glorious mystery
for though words fail
to corral its wonder
the heart does not fail
to know it—
endowed with capacity to receive

He—uncreated to withstand our worship
we—created to withstand His love

------

the Ekklesia
the whole number of those who worship and honor Jesus
throughout the entire earth
and throughout the entirety of time

if my pursuit to understand this glorious inheritance
i found myself encompassed in these truths:

it is Jesus who builds His Church
the Lord Himself who adds to it
who fortifies its purified hearts with Himself
so that the gates of hell will not prevail
to tear it down
the fruit of His labor
the reward for His suffering
blood bought and beautified by holy fire

“you are Mine”
He proclaims
His voice rolling across the woes of earth
with the power to preserve
“for the glory of My Father.”

a church of saints
most holy things
sacred to God
set apart because
He Himself has done a sacred work there
a saving work
a glorious work

-------

He who knew no sin
became sin
so that we might become the righteousness of God.

holy flesh
absorbed the curse
brought forward by man’s fall
with all of its effects
we see within the shredded body
of the son of man
a clear picture of what sin has done
to the soul of man
a mangled mess
the image and likeness of the One who created
nearly lost
but for the joy set before Him

to be redeemed is to be liberated
to find oneself set free
because the debt that bought the chains was covered
and the ransom owed for sin was set into a holy palm

“Come wash your sin-stained robes,”
He calls to us
“make them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
He knows our palms
and spread His own before us
so that we may know His

-------

it is the Spirit of God that carries the
power to bring forth life

from the beginning
after almighty hands had set adam upon his dusty feet
the Almighty’s breath filled his lungs
for everywhere the Spirit breathes
life cascades forth

in the valley of dry bones
we watch His power spread across the dead
as the army of the Lord rises on Spirit’s breath

in the upper room
we hear His power spread across the surrendered
as the church of the Jesus Christ rises on Spirit’s breath

in believer’s lives
we see His power spread across the redeemed soul
as the flesh and its desires gives way to Spirit’s breath

Consumers or contributers

The Lord gave me a dream the other night that I’m going to share with you. It’s a fairly intense dream, but it holds both caution and exhortation, so even though it is personal and actually fairly emotional for me to share, I’m going to do it anyway.

The dream had two parts.

First, my family and I were on vacation in the mountains, and while we were there, we bumped into a whole bunch of tourists who were raving about tours you could go on where you could visit bears in their caves; guides would bring you through a series of caves where you could stand in the middle of mama bears and their cubs and interact with the cubs. To enter the tours, you had to go to the other side of the mountain, but there was a cave nearby, so I ventured in to see what it was all about. Inside there were mama bears and cubs of various sizes, the guides would have everyone walk quietly and move slowly, and the cubs walked among the people and let them stroke their fur. The mama bears mostly slept and laid nearby while these interactions took place, and the guides were on the lookout with bear spray and other tools to ensure that they didn’t hurt anyone if they rose up to protect their young. Both the mama bears and the cubs were not growing or functioning as bears should; they weren’t allowed to leave the cave and experience the world, nor were they allowed to interact with each other naturally. The bears were reduced to a tourist attraction, a spectacle to be consumed by the curiosities of humans.

In the second part of the dream, we arrived back at our rental home, it was tucked up in the forest and everything was covered in a blanket of pure white snow. As I was getting out of the car, I looked up and saw Nathan standing in awe with his hand on the back of a beautiful baby animal. It looked like it was glowing slightly, as it stood out against the white snow. It had just recently been born, and a short distance past it, not yet standing, was its twin. Jane and Sia was so excited, they ran up to the standing animal and began playing too roughly with it in their toddler joy. I looked around and saw the mother a few trees away; she had just given birth and was laying in a pool of blood, resting and trying to recover from a hard labor. I was moved with compassion for this weary mama, and was also suddenly struck by the danger of the situation: Not only was the baby too young to be handled, but a mother protects her young, and what if the mama woke up? I called for Jane and Sia to step back, and Nathan, recognizing what was going on, tried to help. In spite of our best efforts, the mama woke up. She snorted and lunged toward her baby, and Nathan sprinted to get Jane and Sia. But the mama was too weak; she lurched forward, staggering…and suddenly, in the chaos of this moment, a large crowd of people burst out of the woods beyond them excited to see the new baby animals. There were tourists, a photographer wanting to get the perfect shot, and guides telling the people to move quietly and stay back. The weak mother began to panic, staggering between the trees and babies like a trapped animal. I begged the photograph to leave and to make everyone go away; I told him that the babies weren’t ready to be handled, that the mama hadn’t healed yet and she hadn’t been able to tend to them as they needed to be tended to so they could grow into what they had the potential to be. And finally, as he reluctantly agreed to leave, I looked around at the pure white snow and saw that it was stained with bright red blood; pools and streaks and splatters covered the ground. And in the emotional pain of the moment, I woke up.

When I woke up and considered this vivid, detailed dream, I realized that I had been thinking that these animals were deer (a doe and two fawns), but I realized as I looked at them that they were not deer, they were camels. The mom had a hump and a long neck, and the baby stood taller than Nathan. This startled me, because camels don’t live in snowy mountains, they live in deserts. These were unique and different creatures to be found in this place; they were not the usual bears that the people were used to seeing and using for their own pleasure and purposes. These babies were not to be used, not touched or even looked upon until the right time: first, the one who birthed them needed to heal, to adjust to her new environment, and to take the time necessary to raise up the babies to their full beauty and strength. Until then, they were all much too vulnerable.

There are many things in this dream that were just for me, but here is the caution and the exhortation for others:

The tourists in this dream are those in the Body of Christ who walk out their faith as consumers. They go from person to person, place to place, soaking in and taking part in the work that God does in other people’s lives. They observe and delight in the faith journeys of others, hunting down the thoughts and efforts of other believers so as to take what they can for their own pleasure and encouragement. They are like the 5 foolish virgins in Matthew 25, wanting to borrow the hard-earned oil from their neighbors’ lamps.

But here is the thing, you can’t borrow another’s faith and think you can stand on it when you face the righteous Judge…while there is nothing wrong with delighting in and finding encouragement in the work of God in each other’s lives—we SHOULD be testifying, bearing witness to and encouraging each other, that is the mandate of walking in fellowship—we must be very careful to ensure that we aren’t ONLY consuming the fruit of the faithful lives around us.

Are you bringing what God has given you to share with others? I’m not talking necessarily about service…I am talking about contributions of your faith journey. All that any of us really have to bring to the Body is whatever the Lord places in our hands…but it is our responsibility to seek Him, to wrestle with Him for blessing, to taste and see and declare, to contribute what He has given us to hold, to speak the truth of who He is and what He has done in and for us in love…to bring to the table a basket full of the spiritual fruit of our labor of faith. The Body needs these individual baskets so that it can be completely edified and come to full fruition.

Are you contributing? Because when we walk in fellowship as mere consumers, we actually threaten the well-being of those who are growing around us, because we are taking from their spiritual lives continually without replenishing them with our own.

Ordinary

Sometimes it helps to say it out loud
to confront it as it is;
to look it in the eyes and stare it down
thus proving that it is not more powerful
than the decision I get to make in light of it.

I realized recently that I say these words
frequently
“I’m not really good at anything.”
I usually follow it up with encouragement,
“but I’m just going to do my best.”
It doesn’t necessarily feel degrading,
but it doesn’t feel healthy either.
It reeks of a tool that trains me to accept
as it seeks
to cover my pain with contentment.

I can trace it back,
to the event where this phrase was birthed:
When asked directly,
the one person I ever wanted
to be proud of me searched
but could find nothing nice to say of me.
I didn’t even realize there was someone
I wanted to make proud,
until I didn’t.

I don’t blame them, really,
I’ve never been the kind of person
who catches the light…
I’m the kind you have to unbury.

As I looked my declaration in the eye today
I could see that though it started somewhere
it was reaffirmed again and again
in the safe place of the past.
Rejection had a way of following me…
unacceptable and unwanted were sentiments that plagued
me from childhood,
but there was one place that made it bearable—
one place of belonging
one place where I believed I stood
in desirable light;
where others chose to see me and
to believe I was worth loving,
and it put the averted eyes in their place.

It’s no one’s fault, really,
I was born into a field of extraordinary beauty
but didn’t add to it…
because some people were made to behold
not to be beheld,
and I'm the lucky one.

It’s not that I don’t find joy in
my ordinary,
it is just that I find myself sad
that my safe place has lost
its desire for it.

Mother's Day Morning

Worship washes
©5-14-2023 Hannah McLean

I stand in Your presence
unable to get away for a moment
of quiet worship;
hands tug at me,
little voices cast their requests
into the air
as the music plays.

I feel like the widow
wishing I had more
than the small, corroded pennies
to bring You,
and for every time my eyes
are pulled down,
I lift them up.

I know that even as my lips sing
“Your grace has found me just as I am
empty handed
but alive in Your hands,”
so You will graciously accept
my woefully inadequate worship
and count it a joy.

So I sing
with all that my heart and my life
can afford and allow
and I feel the
worship of the Holy One
wash away the worship of self.

For such has motherhood
taught me
to die to self
to live to Christ;
my outstretched hands lifted also
amidst the outstretched hands
beneath me.

His face is mine

Habakkuk 3:17–19a "Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fail and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, He enables me to tread on the heights."

worship of the weary
©4-26-23 hannah mclean

on valley floor
with eyes swollen
from bawling
voice a whisper
from endless calling
the whimper of the weary
dissolves in worship

lament of faith too small
looks up into Your face
to find not disappointment
but pleasure that
the downcast eyes have
searched for Yours

inside the heap of rubble
broken bits of heart and circumstance
the air fills
with worship of the only One worthy

for when prayer
goes unanswered
worship still satisfies
for Holy face is more than
what flows from Holy hand

deepest desire meets
deepest need
and finds no lack

His face is mine

The Beauty of Lament

In my BSF study this week, the very first question says, "What does it mean to Lament?" Every once in a while, I land on a question and realize that I have an entire theology surrounding a topic that I didn't realize existed. This one I couldn't get past it without writing:

To lament is to linger in the sorrow of
a moment that is not as it should be;
to sit down in the heap of rubble of
what had once been built
and weep.

Lament is a Holy gift for the human heart
to help us process and move through suffering;
a necessary stop on the journey of grief
that allows for us to persevere with wellbeing.

Lament is the tool that draws the human soul
into the depths of God;
it is the place where our deep calls out to His
and allows for the comfort not of changed circumstances
but of Holy presence.

Lament is the helping hand that reaches for us
when we find ourselves upon the ground of
sin-broken battlefields,
and stirs within us
a longing for the One who redeems.

Lament is the deeper ache that causes our hearts
to search for the One who makes all things new;
and though we often face sorrow as
skillful evaders of painful things,
lament is the bridge on which we walk
reaching for purpose to be gained
from the realities that wound the human heart.

And though it pushes against reason,
the willingness to lament keeps soft
the heart that suffering threatens to harden.

Give voice to your lament
and find the bended ear of the One who
draws near the ashes
ready to bring forth beauty where we find none.

Psalm 42 | Ecclesiastes 3:1–11a | Lamentations 3:31–33 | Job 1:20

A Testimony: A Dignified Woman

I wrote the testimony below sometime last year; at the time, it was the gathering of words articulating where I stood in my journey of healing my wounded femininity. I sat on it for a long time, careful which hands I placed it in as the Lord faithfully brought it to completion. But yesterday I had an interaction that struck me in a way that opened the door to share it with you: I had a woman I am acquainted with take me aside and sweetly affirm and encourage me in my giftings and my walk.

This might seem simple and small, but it was sort of the cherry on the top of a heap of kind and affirming words that women have offered me over the last few years. I want you to understand that I have spent the majority of my walk with Jesus with my eyes forward and my hands extended; I have received from the Lord and offered to anyone who cared to accept whatever He placed in them. I had no doubts of the worth of His work in me, and yet, no expectations that anyone wanted what I held out…because, as you will read below, I was taught not only did I have nothing to offer the Body of Christ, but anything I DID have the audacity to bring would inevitably cause it damage because I am a woman. The majority of the time I have followed Jesus, I mostly have just quietly fixed my eyes on Him and done whatever He told me to do, setting my obedience and His faithfulness to me as the only desired outcome I could perceive.

At the beginning of this year, I printed a prayer booklet for the women at my church. I almost didn’t do it; I set the call down on a heaped up table to wait another’s direction and time. But the Lord picked it back up and set it back into my hands with the firm reminder that it was between us. So I completed the work and looking down into the box of bound booklets, I felt a wave of freedom wash over me.

Do you remember when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead? He came out of the tomb, fully alive but wrapped in grave cloths; the living being hidden beneath the bands of death. And Jesus said to his family, “Unbind him, and let him go.” It was the family that had wrapped him up, and it was the family that took part in the unbinding. I spent 17 years undergoing spiritual abuse of those who claimed the name of Jesus, they bound me up in clothes that were meant for the dead. But as the Lord has brought about deep healing in me over the last 6 years, He has brought along side me those who carry the name of Jesus to unbind me so that the life that the Lord has borne in me can be seen and known and bear witness to the redeeming power of our Savior.

If you have been among those voices, who have championed me forward, helped wipe the dirt off my face, stilled the shaking of my hands, tipped up my chin to speak encouragement, cheered me as I stumbled along, taken the time to speak worth over my walk…thank you. Thank you for affirming the healing work the Lord has done in me, for taking part in the redeeming of this broken woman and ensuring that what the enemy has sought to keep hidden is drawn fully into the light. I don’t know what all the Lord has in store for me, but He has restored my ability to dream, and I know that the testimony He has given me will roll out before me as I take each step of faith.
 
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Growing up, I did not know I had dignity.
It was whipped out of me with skewed teachings on scripture,
it was stripped off of me with the glares and disdain that grew as my body did,
it was erased from my personhood as effectively as my humanity was dismissed,
and it evaded me as surely as my womanhood did not.
I was taught to fear myself,
that the depravity of nature that came along with my femininity
was to be hated
and, if i knew what was good for me,
should cause me to tremble my way
right under the superior moral covering of angry men.

Growing up, I did not have a voice.
It was silenced when I questioned,
rebuked when I expressed thoughts that did not align with those over me,
dismissed because I was female.
I remember wanting to be heard;
for someone to believe that the ponderings that swirled behind
my peace-keeping eyes had value,
for someone to tell me that the brain I was given
had a greater use than knowing recipes and storing shopping lists,
for someone to allow my hopes, dreams and imaginings
to contribute to the living that was happening around me.
I wanted someone to let me speak
and to affirm my right to use my voice by taking the time to listen to it.

Growing up, I was taught to loathe the fullness of my femininity;
I was taught to minimize myself
to the tidy boxes of convenience and usefulness,
and to discard the rest of me at the door.
In my fullness I was simply too much;
I was to require nothing from the world around me
and to bring to it only what it wanted from me.
And the message was clear:
woman is an object to be used and taken from…
any part of her that pushes back against this message
is rebellious and wicked and should be subdued at all cost,
and every measure taken to ensure this message sinks in
is on the tab of her own conscience.

When I graduated high school at 17, I moved out of my childhood home a week later. I left behind religion and all things related to it in the hopes that I would find a better understanding of who I was and a better box of womanhood to climb into. But all I found was the same degradation in a different suit. Everywhere around me were voices and imagery shouting that dignity, value and purpose were measured by people “qualified” to make such determinations; the boxes I found had only enough room for my usefulness or my ability to offer what was wanted from my body. Everywhere I looked, it was confirmed to me that woman equated with object, not person.

And I accepted my lot.

When I encountered Jesus, I watched Him from a distance. He sat at a beautiful table where He had laid out a feast of wonderful things. There were chairs and people seated around Him, delighting in His presence and His benefits. I saw grace overflowing from the table, the crumbs of which fell onto the floor around His feet where dogs licked them up. My eyes bypassed the people who were seated and watched the dogs. I was struck with hope by the fact that He let them come near Him and I thought, “If He lets the dogs come, surely so can I.” I was fascinated by watching them take the crumbs as their own without being shooed away and I thought, “If I could just have a crumb of His grace, that would be enough.” I mustered up all the courage I had, and making myself as small as I could, I took my place with the dogs and crawled over to His table…but when I reached out my hand for a crumb of grace, it found instead His hand for He had bent down to the ground where I was, and touched my hand when it reached out. He looked into my dumbstruck eyes and drew me up from the floor, pulling out a chair beside Him with the invitation to sit in a seat at His table and partake in the fullness of His feast.

And that wonder…
that wonder at being lifted from floor to table,
from beast to person,
from intruder to invited,
from beggar to beloved…
that wonder has never worn off.

That was 17 years ago and I have spent those years “growing up” in Him.
But unlike the years before it,
THIS upbringing redeems and heals
as it brings about the undoing of the past
because I am accompanied by His Word and by His Spirit.

As I grow up with Him, I have learned that I have dignity.
It was placed into me by the hands that formed me,
it is written onto me by the words of Scripture,
it covers me as surely the blood of Jesus washes me
and the Holy Spirit declares me His own,
it is as certain as the imago Dei that cannot be erased from my being.

As I grow up with Him, I am learning how to use my voice.
A voice that I am not just invited to use, but compelled to use;
a voice that does not merely exist, but has something of value to say;
a voice that carries the power of life and death;
a voice with place, position and purpose in heavenly pursuits;
a voice that carries His authority,
brings forth His word,
gives vision to the treasures hidden in the quiet of His presence.
I have a voice that no longer bends to permission given or denied by man,
but speaks in obedience to the Father.
A voice that seeks not for glory of self,
but for glory of God.
A voice no longer silenced in kingdom purposes.

As I grow up with Him, I am learning to walk in the wholeness
and fullness of a female who bears His image.
Because I have come to believe this Truth:
A good God, in love, created woman in His image for His glory.
And I can stand upright, with an uplifted chin,
as a woman—
redeemed and set apart—
bearing witness by my life of the heart of the Father for humanity.
As a woman,
I am not a hinderance to the gospel,
but a conduit through which it can be more fully known.

I am still in the process of “growing up.”
But if any of this resonated with you, then I want to bear witness to you that in every way we have been broken as women, the broken body of Jesus will surely heal us.

hosannas and hallelujahs

Holy Week ponderings
©4-6-2023 hannah mclean

sometimes we miss the face of flint
for the palm leaves that block our eyes

we forget that the triumph of the final entry into jerusalem
came with suffering the Lord saw fit through which to save

sometimes we see the bread and wine before us
and overlook the traitor’s friendly hand

we forget that the cross that sends us into hiding
is followed by the tomb that calls us boldly forward

for where else has a conquering King declared victory
through dying breath and bloodstained wood
while the sun hid and the earth quaked?

this week let us grieve the shedding of blood
that brought about the forgiveness of sin

let us allow the passing eclipse of the crucifixion
to bring greater delight to the revelation of the stone rolled back

let us linger in the presence of the sorrow
and take part in the fullness of the joy

for our shouts to crucify
were covered in the “finished” cry

may our “hosannas” meet our “hallelujahs”
to the glory of the Father’s heart to save

His power and His heart

The woman touched the hem of His garment.
She pushed her way through the crowds;
an untouchable woman stretching out her hand
to touch the One able to make all things new.
It wasn’t just that she believed He could heal her,
it was also that she believed He would.

It is one thing to have faith in the power of God,
it is another thing to have faith in the heart of God.
And to this I can attest,
if you know what it is to be the untouchable,
it is yet another thing altogether to believe in the heart of God
for you.

And so this untouchable woman with the courage to come
found not just a healed body from the hem of the Messiah
but a healed identity from the words He spoke over her.

Believe.
Believe not just that He is able,
but believe also that He is willing
and not just that He is willing,
but that He is hoping you would come and receive.


[Mark 5:24–34, Luke8:40–48]

The worship that lingers

It was an extravagant act of worship.
She took the expensive ointment and anointed the feet of Jesus.
The feet of Creator God clothed with the flesh of created man.
With great audacity, she unwrapped her hair and wiped His holy feet.
And with great audacity, He let her.

And it says, “The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” John 12:3b

It filled the senses of those who observed it.
It filled the home where it had been poured out.
It lingered on the clothes of those who were there and followed them to their own dwellings.
It stuck to Jesus’ skin, leaving imprints wherever His feet stepped.

Mary’s worship lingered.
It lingered upon her head as a fragrant crown of beauty
reserved for the ones who bring whole-hearted worship.
And when she lay her head down that night,
the fragrance would remind her that He had received her.

And yet
both Mary and Messiah knew,
that the ointment was for anointing
that when the fragrance wore off
there would be a burial
for the heel which held the fragrance
would be bruised for the one who wiped it with her hair.

"Righteous men"

How many of us settle for the righteous life of Lot, when the Lord has called us to the righteous life of Noah?

This might not be a fun word to read, but my heart is unsettled and these are the words I have to bring you. My prayer is that you would hear me out and deeply consider them, I will include a prayer at the end as these thoughts keep pushing me to pray.

2 Peter 2:7–8 “And if He rescued righteous Lot, greatly distressed by the sensual conduct of the wicked (for as that righteous man lived among them day after day, he was tormenting his righteous soul over their lawless deeds that he saw and heard)”

Genesis 6:9b “Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his generation. Noah walked with God.”

To begin, I wanted to be clear that there is only one way to be declared righteous before the Lord, and that is through the atoning sacrifice of Jesus for our sins; if we accept His work of salvation on our behalf, He takes our wickedness and gives us His righteousness. That’s it. Our own efforts of external exertion can only produce self-righteousness, which has no ability to produce eternal life. We need Jesus to be declared righteous before God.

That being said, the Bible tells us that both Lot and Noah were “righteous men.” There are so many parallels between their lives, and yet, several stark differences.

Lot was Abraham’s nephew, you can read his story in Genesis 11–19. He was drawn to the city of Sodom, where he took up residence and partook of its prosperity. He lived his life in the middle of the wickedness that took place there, and the ways of the city took root in his family as it mixed in with his daily living. And when the Lord finally had to call Sodom to account for its evil deeds (not even 10 righteous people lived there), He sent angels to help Lot escape from his home…but the tangling of his life with the lives of those in Sodom had consequences, he lost his wife to her longing and his daughters had gained no knowledge to discern between right and wrong.

Noah was the son of Lamech, one of only eight to have witnessed both the pre- and post-flood world. You can read his story in Genesis 5–9. The world he was born into was overrun by evil, it says in Genesis 6:5 that “the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” The wickedness of humanity that had taken such root that their lives produced only evil fruit all the time. “But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.” He was a preacher of righteousness, living according to God’s plumb line of right and wrong, walking with God and not with man. And like in the story of Lot, humanity mounted the threshold to the door of just judgment, and God invited righteous Noah to escape. “Make for yourself an ark,” He said to him, and Noah obeyed everything God said. He did the hard labor of nearly 100 years of building in the face of ridicule and scorn, surrounded by the evils of unrighteous living, but set apart for the Lord. And the Lord preserved the people that He had made and marked with His own image through one man and his family. And under the rainbow of covenant, the eight of them rebuilt and carried on the good work God had created humanity for in the beginning.

When you read the stories, did you notice the similarities? God spared these righteous men from being destroyed by His judgment. Both of these men lived surrounded by wickedness, a lone light in a dark environment. Both of these men got to take their family with them.

But there are many differences too. Lot couldn’t leave without being pulled out…It says in Genesis 19:16 “But he lingered. So the men seized him and his wife and his two daughters by the hand, the Lord being merciful to him, and they brought him out and set him outside the city.” Lot lingered and he was spared by the mercy of God. But Noah, he was spared by his obedience to the invitation of God to receive mercy. God didn’t have to pluck Noah out, Noah rode above the waters of judgement by faith and the faithful labor of his hands in response to God’s commands and invitation.

The environments of both of these men was dark, but Noah had walked with God and lived according to God’s righteous ways while Lot had walked with the men of Sodom and struggled to keep and desire God’s ways because he had allowed the seeds of wickedness to grow in his internal garden.

I write this to encourage you to—as I have and am doing with myself—examine your heart and your ways before the Lord. God will save anyone who trusts in Jesus for salvation, but there is the reality of 1 Corinthians 3:10–15, where we are told that the sum of what we build upon the foundation of Jesus will be revealed by fire. Are you building well? Are you forming the structure of your life by the instruction and with the materials commanded by God (as Noah did, building the Ark according to the measurements and directions he was given)? Or are you setting up residence in structures made by human design and struggling as you waver between King and country?

Our God is a jealous God, He knows that our idolatry brings about the destruction of our souls, and in love He continually calls to us to walk whole-heartedly with Him. I’ve been studying the relationship between God and Israel, and I am struck again and again by the weight and detriment of mixing our lives with the culture in which we abide instead of setting ourselves apart for the God in whom we are invited to abide. Throughout the books of the minor prophets, we see a glimpse at God’s view of the mixed man who comes to worship: He’s like, “I reject your sacrifices, your words are empty and yours songs are appalling to Me. If you want Me to receive your ministry to Me, than seek Me on a heart level, and let Me align your life to My heart and My ways.”

God is merciful, and He WILL save the righteous man…but have we settled for the righteous life of Lot, or will we aim to be Noahs in our generation? Because the truth is, we are living closer to the Revelation than to Eden, and in those last chapters of the good Book we find this call, “Come out of her, My people, lest you take part in her sins…”

—————

Father, purge me with hyssop and I will be clean. Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. [Psalm 51:7] Teach me Your way, Lord, that I may walk in Your truth; unite my heart to fear Your name. [Psalm 86:11] You are the only one righteous, Lord, I bend the knee to Your plumb line of good and evil. You have created me for Your purposes, conform my life to whatever You wish for it be; may I live whole-heartedly in pursuit of You and Your kingdom. Your will be done, Father; [Matthew 6:10] in my mind, my heart, my life and my walk. May I be fully surrendered to You; rooted in the truth of Your word and governed by Your Spirit. You are holy, holy, holy; purify my worship to reflect that You alone hold my heart. Keep me, Father, wrap me up in Your faithful arms and guard me from offending You. May my life bring You glory, honor and praise. In Jesus name, Amen.