A resurrected body

 1 Corinthians 15:38–43, 47–49, 58 
“But God gives it a body as He has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body. For not all flesh is the same, but there is one kind for humans, another for animals, another for birds, and another for fish. There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is of one kind, and the glory of the earthly is of another. There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for star differs from star in glory. So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power.”

“The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. As was the man of dust, so also are those who are of the dust, and as is the man of heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.”

“For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.” 

I have spent a lot of my life hating my body; it wasn’t just the way it looked, it was its propensity to failure, its inability to hold onto health or to gain it, the way it brought me emotional and physical pain, the many steps it lagged behind, how hard I had to work to gain an inch just to lose a mile the next day. I spent years beating it up; verbally degrading it for its inability to catch up or to keep up, physically trying to whip it into shape with every tool at my disposal. Empty hands and helplessness my only tokens of thanks.

I fought the hatred, I really did. I worked hard to associate with it, I repented, I learned to speak kind words to it, I forced myself to look at it, I sought the truth of its forming on the pages of scripture and came out of agreement with the lies I spoke over it. But my steps in victory couldn’t seem to remove the underlying loathing.

I have learned over time that the Lord is very careful and intentional in the order in which He walks us toward healing, so my cries didn’t stop until finally the Lord gave an answer to my continued desperate pleas for His help. He said, “It is time,” and carefully walked me back through my life and showed me that my health problems directly related to my trauma; with the loss of each brother, my body internalized the separation of death with separations of its own. The burden of the emotional tax weighed on my physical body and caused it to stagger. He led me down the paths of my sorrows and showed me that it was not the failure of my body that was displayed, but its endurance. Bent and broken was the heart, and the body that contained it followed suit.

The hatred fell off as the wall of enmity that created separation between my body, soul and spirit crumbled. A spirit of compassion washed my eyes, and turned my heart toward my body instead of against it. And we began out walk toward healing as one who has been made whole.

And that’s been a unique journey for me, to live without loathing. My body recovers from exercise differently; there is no insistence on results, only hope for wellbeing, the freedom to fail, and the willingness to seek help; the desire has changed to kindness, instead of cure.

I’m writing this because the Lord showed me another layer to build upon in pursuit of this healing.

I’ve often found comfort in the idea of shedding this body some day; to leave behind the broken pieces and metaphorically “wipe my hands of it.” But I was reminded in a sermon recently that Jesus has a body…that in His resurrected form, He has a physical body and so will I. And that is good. A truth I have not considered. It also stood out to me that even though His physical body had been made new, He chose to keep His scars. And that also is good.

It forces me out of my relief of future separation from what has caused me to struggle in this life (specifically, my physical body) and into the consideration of what it means to remain united with it. Do I believe that is good and why?

Because it’s true, the resurrected Jesus had a physical body, and it was His physical resurrected body that is lifted up as evidence of His identity and of the fulfillment of His purpose. The scars declared the truth of His suffering and of His victory, and were offered up for the faith of His followers. His physical body ate fish His disciples had prepared, and his physical hands built fires to prepare fish for them; His physical and pierced-through feet walked down the road beside His people and His physical mouth expounded to them the scriptures. In the 40 days between His resurrection and ascension, we are given a glimpse into what it looks like for a human being to be raised from the dead to eternal life.

So what if in eternity my perfected body still testifies of what it has endured? What if the evidence remains, not for pain but for glory? What if the suffering is not forgotten, but instead carried without lament? What if my twisted fingers remains twisted even as they find themselves able to play instruments and make pottery in the city of God?

I have learned from His word that the goodness of who He has made is not lost with our losses or tarnished by our corrosion; I have also learned that His goodness in our losses and corrosions are what shape us into the followers we are today. And perhaps these emerging layers will find that their paths lead to Hebrew 2:10, “For it was fitting that He, for whom and by whom all things exist, in the bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering.” Perhaps the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony will be presented upon our physical body that bears the evidence of imperfection being resurrected by Perfect love. Perhaps the Lamb spoken of in the book of Revelation who stands as “one who has been slain” will be looking out over His blood-bought people, standing also as ones who have once known death. 

To be resurrected is not be erased and to be recreated without blemish. It is to be restored to life…but resurrected life bears the evidence of the fires of earth, the crucible in which the dross of a broken life gives way once more to His image. His feet of burnished bronze are left bare upon the streets of heaven; His blood soaked robes royal enough to be worn when He sits upon His white horse and returns upon the wind; the scars upon His hand no hindrance to the holding of His scepter, but are the very things that bear witness to His right to lift it. 

He makes all things new. And that is good. But even the new will bear witness to what has been. And that is very good.

There’s got to be healing in these thing, may I lay hold of it as they settle in me.

"I want you to describe My heart to them."

This morning, as I am finishing up my BSF study on suffering, I was reminded of something I wrote for a women's day that I had at my house this Summer. The Lord had given me an assignment for the day, and one of the parts of it was this: "I want you to describe My heart to them." That's a seemingly impossible assignment. Thankfully, through prayer, He highlighted specific verses that each woman needed to hear for me to expound on. As I reread it this morning, I thought it would encourage someone's heart, and so I have decided to share it here:
 

The Lord is your deliverer; with careful precision He reaches forth His hand on your behalf with strength enough to cast mighty mountains into the sea and a touch gentle enough to lift a single grain of sand. His deliverance carries the perfect measure; with mercy enough to cover the folly of our choices and grace enough to minister to the bounds of others, He looks upon our lives with perfect knowledge and steadfast love, and strides with confidence into the rushing waters of our Jordan Rivers so that all that stands between our days of slavery and wilderness would lose its power to keep us from setting our feet onto the ground of our promised land.

This Deliverer holds nothing back; He keeps no tally of our earning or record of our merit or demerit; He does not stumble or draw back at the flex of our enemies’ chariots and military might; He finds no hinderance in the shouts of man or the number of swords raised against you. He is willing to rend the heavens for you. You are of such worth to Him, so fiercely does He choose you every time, that He is willing to pour all out for you.

“I see your battles, my beloved child, I know the way the battle drums stir your heart to fear. I know your pain of feeling without defense. But “I will fight for you…” I know your hand lacks the victory that you need, but “be still,” in Me, you lack nothing.  [exodus 14:14]

The Lord is your strength. Come as you are, He says; when your arms are dragging in the dirt, when your knees have buckled, when your heart is too crushed to do another day of heavy lifting…your weakness is no burden to Him, your places of nothing are welcome with Him. No shame is found under his gaze; your deficits but a palette to display His sufficiency of might.

He knows the means of your depletion; He saw the woundings that your back bore up beneath, He heard the groaning of your heart as it bent beneath traumas it was never meant to carry.

When your body gave way, His steadfast hand held you together…and where you still struggle to regain what was lost, He holds your together still. He knows the lament of what torments you from beside the road where life’s trials have left you; but weakness is not a lesser thing in His kingdom. In His kingdom weakness is where His strength is perfected in you. Weakness is where His grace finds its most fertile ground, its most open avenue for redemptive work. Weakness is where you learn what it feels like to be kept in the care of the Almighty’s love and power…the place where the meekness and might of the Sovereign One cradle and lift with such precision that you will be undone by finding yourself thoroughly known, completely safe, desired not for what you offer, but for who you are. He is your strength, beloved, the strength that searches out the atrophied, the wilted, the withered…that beckons the stumbling, the bent, the needy…that delights as much in sustaining you as you in being sustained.

“I am always with you; close enough to hold your right hand. I guide you with My counsel and I will one day take you with Me into glory. You flesh and your heart may fail, My child, but I am the strength of your heart and your portion forever. Your portion finds no lesser measure on the threshing floor of your weakness. No, because your threshing floor affords you vision that you may set eyes upon the most vivid grace.  [Psalm 73:26]

The Lord is your redemption. All that the cruelty of sin has rendered “other than intended;” all that its force has twisted into “not as it should be;” all that it has left broken, splintered, cracked, precariously patched together need not remain, for the blood of Jesus makes all things new.

And maybe the enemy has told you that your broken places, relationships and dreams are too far gone, that your wounds have festered too long, your bones set too awry, your bruises go too deep for the blood to find its way there….maybe he has told you that its your fault, your choices are what brought your city to ruin, and maybe that part’s true, but then maybe he said that because you’re guilty—still struggling, still striving—that the blood is not for you right here, right now…maybe he has convinced you that you have to wait upon another to recognize or apologize or rectify the wrongs that punctured your soul before you can partake of what the blood offers…but the enemy’s a liar and a thief. There is a Redeemer, and He is yours.

With the joy of you made new before His eyes, He saw His redeeming work through to the new beginning…and He has never stopped desiring for you to reach out your hand to Him, or lift up your eyes to Him, or release your hearts cry to Him. It’s not beyond His touch, and you are not beyond His love, and His heart was never persuaded by your strives toward perfection, it has always been motivated by His perfect Love and lavish grace for those He set His heart upon. And you are His, marked by His own hand and His own heavenly heart.

“Whoever comes to Me, I will never cast out. I long to turn your mourning into dancing, I died to loose your sackcloth and array you with the gladness of one who has taken part in my redeeming work for the reunification of your body, soul and spirit to Me. Your glory will sing My praise and not be silent, for I am the Lord your God…I gave Myself so you can be whole; a wholeness that depends not on perfect circumstances, perfect bodies or prefect paths but on the perfect lamb of God given for you. [Psalm 30:11–12]

The Lord is the source of all that is Good. Lift up your eyes. Your sorrow stems from the failure of your measures. The one you clung to with expectation of fullness forever failed you. The title that afforded you your certainty of worth was stripped away. The safety of the stronghold where you always ran to rest and renew stands in ruin. But lift up your eyes and look into His.

Whatsoever was withheld or lost or forgotten; whatsoever sat upon the scales where you found yourself too few, too weak, too weary; whatsoever set itself beside you and amplified all that you are not…those whatsoevers are but lesser things…mere echoes of a Greater. Things able to be emptied will only leave you empty because they have merely borrowed of the goodness of God. But the Lord says to you, “Oh, taste and see that I am good! I long for you to partake of every part of Me, I long to draw you into the refuge of being surrounded by the well that never comes up dry. Drink forever, draw as deeply as you wish, fill your cup 10,000 time and then 10,000 times more. The young lion—man’s vision of the hope of strength and might—will suffer want and hunger; but those who seek Me lack no good thing…not now, not ever.”  [Psalm 34:8–10]

The joy you long for, the hope you cling for, the peace your wrestle for, the grace you search for…there is no end, there is only satisfaction and fulfillment of person. Unwind your fingers from around the worn out reflection in your hands, I promise that in the laying down of what could only pacify, your hands will be left free to fall open before the One who satisfies the seeker with the best of His bounty. Lift up your eyes, He is not far off, The Source of all goodness is near you and with you and in you. Your search is over, He is forever enough.

The Lord is the lifter of your head. There are many reasons why you may feel cast down, why your eyes struggle to rise and meet His.

Beloved, He isn’t disappointed in you…yes, He knows the ways you failed, the number of times you faltered, the many expectations that you didn’t meet…but the only expectation He ever had of you was to need Him. He does not look upon the weak things and lament their lack of strength; He does not look upon the ones regarded as nothing in your neighbor’s eyes and agree; He does not look upon the foolish to the world and scoff at them. He says, “What a beautiful one to display My strength upon, My glory upon, My wisdom upon.” Poor and needy and lowly and longing…these are the ones He’s searching for. Ashes are but the precursor to crowns, garments of shame are only what come before the blood-washed robes of white, the guilt of sin but fertile soil for the grave He was buried in that will blossom into gardens of new life.

Beloved, He sees your sorrow, your waning hope, your struggle for joy. He gathers every tear you’ve cried inside a bottle, considering your pain too costly a thing to overlook. He understands the source of your cries, even if you don’t. He knows the seemingly eternal struggles to brighten up your countenance, the misfirings of your mind, the score of your trauma as it tallied its way into your body’s inter-workings. But your season of depression is not forever because He is the one who lifts up your head. May you sense His bending to join you in the dust, may you feel His hand cup your face with a touch so gentle that all that is fragile in you will not break within it, may your eyes lift as He lifts your face to His. He wants you to see Him.

The Lord is your safe place. I know you are afraid right now; things too big for you to carry curse your mind with a thousand questions…but He knows all things for you. The rising pressures that magnify your lack of control cause you to cower…but He is sovereign over all things for you. The ones who caused you pain press in upon the ones you love…but He is a shield for you.

He is the refuge that covers and keeps you in the raging storms and crashing roar of waves that have flattened a thousand ships…He is the assurance of a way to the other side.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” Your safety does not stem from stability of circumstance but from presence of Faithful and True. I know your fear, but I am near you. If you will enter in, I will walk beside you into the dark places within you, I will hold your hand and shelter you through every vulnerability, I will stand beside you until you rise again. Whether your head trembles within a lion’s mouth or your heart dances in the passing breeze, you are as safe now as you will ever be. For My name is a strong tower, run into Me and learn what it is to be safe. [Prov 18:10, Psalm 46]

The Lord is love. It is not only that He loves, it is that He IS love and His affections flow from the heart of who He is. Fierce and full and forever, as much today in your state of disrepair as in the glories of heavens courts when your sanctification is complete. You never earned your endeared position, you need not DO to receive or DESERVE to take part. His love followed you from before the weaving of your form inside the womb began…and it will not wane even in the returning to dust. His love is perfect, without spot or blemish, without failure or fault, without beginning and therefore, without end, unable to be added to or taken from; His love extends—reaching through both sunbeam and shadow, as overflowing in the valley and in the heights.

Pursuing, He spends and spent His life longing for you to enter into the flow that pours from Him. Extending His hand, yet never forcing you to take part; He spreads Himself before you along the path you walk, hoping that your knees will fall upon Him and feel the wonder that He’s gone lower still, wanting only for you to find Him when your hand reaches out for one to cling to, to hold onto. The love that never fails, never comes up dry, never pales into comparison, but instead shines with such glory that all lesser loves cower.

Taste and see, He calls to you. Lay hold of the beauty that blossoms in you when you plant yourself within the flow of my affections.

My love bears all things; My love believes all things; My love hopes all things; My love endures all things…without end. Without end. [1 Cor 13:7]

The Lord is your Healing. Every wound on body, soul and spirit. Every sorrow of heart and mind. Every moment that marred you from birth to this very moment. Nothing is outside His reach, His desires or His care. Lean in and find that wholeness is found in Him.

“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of Your wings. They feast on the abundance of Your house, and You give them drink from the river of Your delights. For with You is the fountain of life; in Your light do we see light. [Psalm 36:7–9]

laying down the nets

Matthew 4:18–20 “While walking by the Sea of Galilee, He saw two brothers, Simon (who is called Peter) and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen. And He said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.”Immediately they left their nets and followed Him.”
 

leave your nets

©hannah mclean 10-12-2024

 

will you leave your nets
and follow Me?
will you lay down old
the new to see?
will you trust your works
can leave your hands
and pick up where
Redeemer stands?
 

will you forfeit
all you’ve ever known
and follow Me
from house and home?

it matters not that
men say “no”
it matters not where
men say “go”
it matters only
if you choose
to follow Me
your nets to lose
 

a better word
i have for you
a better work
your hands to do
I look across
your narrow sea
and call you out
“will you follow Me?”

"He loved them to the end."

John 13:1–6 "Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that His hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end. During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray Him, Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside His outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around His waist. Then He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around Him."

 

“He loved them to the end.”

He knew who He had chosen;
He knew the zeal of Peter,
the rolls of thunder in the sons of Zebedee,
the doubt in the mind of Thomas.
He knew the schemes that had made Matthew rich,
and how the sun glinted off the dagger of Simon.
He knew the eyes that slept while He prayed,
the feet that would scatter in the days ahead,
the lives that would be lost while living out His commission.

And He knew the one who would kiss His face
as He was bound amid the green of Gethsemane.

It was with knowledge of the soft and of the hard,
with the certainty of His enduring, pursuing love,
that Jesus used His final hours
to descend yet again
placing Himself beneath the feet of those who followed Him.

The hands into which the Father had given all things
tied a towel around His waist
and cradled the dirty feet of those He knew and loved;
desiring they would be clean
more than the deity of His own hands.

The One with the right to cast down
bent down
for the sake of love.

He loved them to the end;
the ones with their hearts given over to Him
and the one who opposed Him to death.
His love was not deterred by the hatred of man;
instead, it made provision for the devoted to live
and for the hateful to turn.

Rising from the floor on which He knelt,
His voice flowed into the room made quiet by what had been received.
It rolled across the hearts of those made clean
filling their senses with His holy, holy, holy call,
“Love as I have loved you.”

From Zar to Citizen of Heaven

The Lord woke me up with a dream this week. In this dream I was registering patients at a hospital when a friend I knew from high school walked in with a woman who was having terrible chest pain. I picked up her registration form and my friend looked relieved because she knew I could help. I brought the woman back to my desk; she was uncomfortable and a bit nervous, but overall bright in her attitude and demeanor, confident that she had come to the right place for the help she needed. As I sat her down, I opened up the registration program for the first time (I had worked registration during college, so they didn’t bother training me in, just assumed I could pick it back up). As I got things going, I looked at my paper and noticed on the name line, she had simply written the word “Zar.” During our discussion, she told me that was the name she was called, and because she wasn’t ever called by her given name, she struggled to remember what her legal name was. After some digging, I managed to draw her first and last name out of her, and chose to register her as her legal name with Zar as the middle name.

I first tried to find a medical record that had been previously opened to build from, but she was nervous to give her social security number out loud with people around, so I let her type it in. Finding no record on file, I started a new one and was met with utter random confusion. As I tried to find the places to enter the information, I had to navigate through videos, games, flashing screens—every sort of entertainment was crammed into the program. I frantically tried to find the input areas to give the information needed to create a chart for the dying woman sitting in front of me, but my efforts were slowed and frustrated by the avalanche of unnecessary and distracting visuals.

When I finally made it to the end of the chart, utterly frustrated and overwhelmed, I hit print only to discover that autocorrect had changed the spelling of the legal name. I went out to check on the patient in the lobby, where she was waiting anxiously to be seen, and I desperately tried to figure out how to get her chart to the nurse so they knew she was ready even though I knew everything would have to be restickered because of the error in the legal name (although “Zar,” which I put in the middle name input slot had printed clearly). With my laptop beside her in the lobby, I desperately tried to find the screen with the name input to change it, realized in the fray I had never even found the insurance page and tried to get that information and seek out where input it…pages and pages of animated chaos hiding everything from me. My friend kept looking at me in confusion of why I wasn’t helping. All the while, Zar sat in front of me crying from her pain, dying in the waiting room of the hospital that was suppose to help her simply because they had chosen a registration program—the program that admits you to enter in for help—that was overrun by entertainment.

And in my desperate groveling for what to do, how to get her seen, how to navigate the impossible admission program, I woke up.

And when I woke up and thought about this dream, I cried out to God. Our culture is one of entertainment: It demands instant gratification and won’t venture forward without it; it laments boredom and simplicity (the very things that allow for the cultivating of curious and creative minds); it despises reality, wisdom and practicality (the things that allow for us to build lives well lived); it sucks away our time on meaningless things (social media, gaming, movies and shows); it takes our concentration and focus and availability to do the work God created us for. I did inventory of my own distractions, repenting for myself and the American Church.

I also looked up the woman’s name: Zar. The Hebrew word "Zar" means “alien, foreign, outside.”

This is the meaning of the dream and the exhortation to the body of Christ:
The hospital here is the body of Christ. People are dying outside of Jesus; desperate for help and for the Gospel. But we at the doorway, the ones meant to bring the Gospel to the lost and dying world so that they may know redemption and salvation, are failing. We are overridden with entertainment: flashy facades, video games, movies, TV, sports, activities, our own comforts, social media, anything fun. But people are dying! The lost are waiting to be found, the sick are waiting for the healing touch of Jesus, the broken are waiting to know the One who can put them back together, the confused are waiting for the clarity of Truth, the bound are waiting for their deliverer…and we who are suppose to reach out with the hands and feet of Jesus and draw them in are failing them.

Our heart for the lost must be GREATER THAN our desire for the flesh to be entertained.

Here is the passage the Lord gave me for this dream, please pause and consider:

Ephesians 2:13,17–20 “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ…And He came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit."

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.

 

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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
 

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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

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.

In the beginning

He always brings me back to the beginning. Not of my life, but of life itself. He lifts me up from the deepest caverns of my most painful wounded being and sets me upon His shoulder so that I can watch Him create all that exists. “In the beginning, Elohim created the heavens and the earth.” (Genesis 1:1). “Watch.” He whispers, “Listen to My voice, see what springs from My authority and reverberates off of this great void with crescendos of My glory. Behold My intention, be moved by My love, gape at the splendor of My making, bend your knee at the magnitude of My power.” And in the keeping of this holy, holy, holy God, I immerse myself into the wonder of His name.

i am Your idea, Elohim
    i am not Your afterthought
    i am by design, not by accident
    the result of a good Creator’s
    careful hands

Every day ordained;
    His breath in my lungs and
    His Spirit in my body
    Born twice as His own

i am not lesser
    i am loved
i am not unacceptable
    i am intended
i am not unwanted
    i am called and appointed
i am not undesirable
    i am redeemed

From the vantage point upon His mighty shoulder, I renounce every thought and word that has scratched itself upon my being—inside and out—the poisonous lie that the One who knit me together did not do good work. For into the marvel of the earth that surrounds me, I have been placed by Sovereign hands.

Biblical Women

I saw this post yesterday @sketchysermons, and it made me smile. I’ve been on an intentional journey since 2018 to gain an understanding of what “biblical womanhood” looks like; in part because I have been healing from the damage done to my femininity by my childhood church during critical ages of development, but also partly so that I can articulate to my children God’s view of women. In general the Church exalts the Marys of the Martha’s sister variety, quietly learning at the feet of Jesus, and the Ruths with their devoted, servant hearts. But scripture has a lot more to say about the women God made and chose to include on the pages of His holy book than this woefully limited (though lovely) box has room for. Personality and matters of the heart are two different things, and the exclusion of the former from discussions surrounding womanhood has been detrimental to the dignity of women in the body of Christ because many of us find ourselves disqualified before we’ve even set foot on the ground. This tiny sketch breaks down the sides of the box we’ve set up and forces us to reconsider its boundaries.

This sketch speaks of Jael, who was honored when she drove a tent peg through the skull of Sisera, the commander of a wicked king’s army, with such force that it plunged into the ground beneath it. There’s twice I can think of (1 Samuel 25 and 2 Samuel 20) where one single woman faced entire armies on full-force revenge missions and stopped them from causing mass destruction. The apostle Paul, who wrote a large portion of the new testament, honors the women who worked side-by-side with him in the spread of the gospel—supporting financially, laboring physically, and even, in the case of Phoebe, going on a dangerous mission to bring one of his letters into Rome where Nero was in the process of lighting believers on fire for entertainment purposes. The church needs to remember Jesus doesn’t just affirm Mary, He affirmed her sister Martha (John 11:5) whose bold personality may have made it hard for her to sit still, but it certainly brought with it a propensity to get things done. The Lord highlights a great variety of personalities and propensities including prophetesses, business women, teachers, former prostitutes, a deaconess and even a female apostle (Romans 16:7) highly respected among the disciples.

I’m still gathering my words, but I can say with full confidence that it is not scripture that minimizes or demeans women—the womanhood we see in the Bible is quite a beautiful, dynamic thing to observe—instead, it is human explanations, though often well-intentioned, that continue to do the greatest damage. So if you are on your own journey, I encourage you to set aside the teachings you’ve gathered, and do your own wrestling with God through the pages of the Bible, starting at chapter 1 of Genesis, with the understanding that a good God, who does good work, in love formed woman in His own image. And whether you are the type of woman God created to tend a home or to build a house, to mother a child or to disciple a neighbor, to gently hold the hand of the weak or to curl your fingers around a tent peg, you will find that Biblical Womanhood includes your personality type. And as for heart posture, Jesus will align and refine us with His Word by His Spirit as we abide in Him.

And that is all for now. But, if you see me with this sticker somewhere on my person, you will know why. :)

Rewriting the narrative

Woman
©12/14/2021 Hannah McLean

I am not a broken thing
I am whole
I am a healing woman
[Isaiah 61:4]

I am not a worthless thing
I am loved
I am a dignified woman
[Proverbs 31:25]

I am not a helpless thing
I am kept
I am a fortified woman
[Psalm 18:31-35]

I am not a forgotten thing
I am known
I am an intentioned woman
[Psalm 139:16]

I am not a shameful thing
I am redeemed
I am a beautified woman
[Psalm 96:9]

I am not a silent thing
I am sealed
I am a joyful woman
[Psalm 16:11]

I am not a useful thing
I am filled
I am a devoted woman
[Psalm 40:3]

A thing has been
But a woman will be
For my identity comes not from my woundings
But from my Maker

the undoing

un
©10-10-2021 hannah mclean

it’s the words
that buried themselves
in the deepest parts
of me
hidden in places
i haven’t thought to seek
emerging from the shadows
in the moments
of my own emergence
to convince me
to back down
to remain within the confines
of their hinderances

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

i know what it is
to be Lazarus
called out from my tomb
with new breath in my lungs
and grave clothes
binding what was once dead

but what of Jesus’ words before
the miracle of new life
“did I not tell you that if you believed
you would see the glory of God?”
a life redeemed is one of glory on display
the extent of which
is only fully seen in the unbinding
of the remnants of death

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

my soul cries out
for deliverance from the pain
of these words
from their power to stifle
growth in me
from their enduring pursuit of
convincing me
to shut up the
wells of life
that begin to flow forth from
the places they seek to keep residence

the soul ties of silence
insist my knees bend
to their masterful reasoning
for only when my words
remain hidden inside my mouth
do these words
return to their crevices within

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

but in the lifting of my ear
i hear resounding over
their degrading cadence
a different song
the sound of glad rejoicing
of love that quiets and
of exultation from holy lips
for He has tended to this broken
He has gathered in this outcast
He has taken on Himself this shame
He has brought near His side this one
who has stood wishing on the outside
and He has made known

for only in the presence
of the Lord my God
do the “un”s meet the silence
of their own undoing

wanted
accepted
necessary
welcome
known

 

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"The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty One who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love; He will exult over you with loud singing. I will gather those of you who mourn for the festival, so that you will no longer suffer reproach. Behold, at that time I will deal with all your oppressors. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. At that time I will bring you in, at the time when I gather you together; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes,” says the Lord. ~ Zephaniah 3:17–20

from womb to woman

Psalm 139:13–18 “For You formed my inward parts; You knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from You, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in Your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. How precious to me are Your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with You.”

foreknown
©9-28-2021 hannah mclean

as Your hands formed
Your eyes saw
not just what You were creating
but what i would become

with many thoughts
You molded me
weaving within my very being
what the touch of Your hands
feel like upon my life

the impressions of
Your holy fingerprints
brought me from
substance to soul
marking me in Your making
with the knowledge
of Your wonder

foreknown
for a purpose
unfolding as time
turns the days
ordained for me

and today i worship
for even now
from womb to woman
i am still with You

A poem from my time in Isaiah 58

"And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt, you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in." Isaiah 58:11–12

o Father Who stands with me
in flames
and forges through the wilderness
when gales of sand and wind
whip my face
Who hears my voice
cry out through mouth
parched and
jaw pained from gritted teeth

o Father who fills
faster than life draws
to You my knees bow
my hands lift up
and my heart wholly reaches

i thirst
i come
You fill
until
i overflow

o Father Who brings the good growth
Who gives courage to break up fallow ground
Who gives strength to uproot weeds that strangle
and dislodge rocks that hinder
make me a watered garden
nourished from within and out
by Holy love

strengthen my bones
make me stand tall
my backbone unshakeable
my legs unbreakable
my hands strong enough
to build
to raise up
to repair
to restore
be the fortitude that forges
through my being
planted by Your hands
with precision
and permission
to being glory to You
make me able to bear up
beneath the weight that
falls upon my shoulders

o Father
all sufficient
i rest inside Your keeping

A meditation on Psalm 84:5–8

Psalm 84:5–8
5 Blessed are those whose strength is in You,
    in whose heart are the highways to Zion.
6 As they go through the Valley of Baca
    they make it a place of springs; 

    the early rain also covers it with pools.
7 They go from strength to strength; 

    each one appears before God in Zion.
8 O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer; 

    give ear, O God of Jacob! Selah

Verse 5 begins with the declaration that the one who has no strength within themselves, and must draw fully from the Lord, is blessed. Being in a position where we feel the full force of our weakness is not pleasant, in fact, it is downright painful, but here the Lord tells us that this place of desperate want is a place of blessing. And as the psalmist continues, we will begin to see some of the reasons why.

This verse completes this declaration by adding that the means of blessing is not just the weak one finding their strength in the Lord, it is also that the highways of their hearts lead them to Him. A highway is road that is well-traveled; much work has gone into laying its foundation, maintaining and building up the place where feet continually tread. And where do these highways forged upon the heart lead? To Zion; the dwelling place of God. Namely, whether you are in the Valley or in the heights, build the highways in your heart to lead you to the Lord—make your course to His arms and His keeping so continual that it becomes second nature; it makes me think of Nathan’s Grandma Lillian who sat at the piano in her advanced state of dementia and played hymns…she may not have remembered our names, but she remembered His.

Verse 6 speaks to the valleys of life that we would not choose, the places of such pain, grief and despair that they are referred to here as “the Valley of weeping.” Be it loss or lack, whatever has dragged us down to this place of want and sorrow, we find what comes to the saint who has cast themselves upon the strength of the Lord and whose heart runs with weariness and desperation to Him; “springs.” A spring is a place where water moving underground finds an opening to the land surface and emerges. A spring draws water from an aquifer, which, get this, is a water-bearing rock. So essentially, the psalmist is saying that as we go through the Valley of weeping, we learn to draw living water from the Rock. And in case we languish along the way, there has been an “early rain,” where God has gone before us and provided pools of water from which to drink. I wish I could lay out how clearly this moves my heart—from my own experience, oftentimes those pools are found in the people who stand beside us in our pain because they’ve been there before. He knows the paths that we must tread; every jagged edge of every rock at the bottom of every valley has pressed first into His flesh before it has reached ours. He is sufficient to bear us up.

And can I point out, it says, “as they go THROUGH the Valley…” There is time to laugh and a time to weep, and both are seasons filled with purpose. But we need not remain in the Valley forever.

Verse 7 tells us that even as we draw our strength from the Lord; the revelation of new and endless weakness only leads us into new and endless aspects of coming to KNOW God’s strength. When we lean fully upon Him, His arms draw us nearer and nearer His kind and merciful face.

And finally, to end this wonderful meditation, we must look at verse 8. Here the Psalmist appeals to the Lord by two of His many names: Lord of Hosts and God of Jacob. I have found that the uses of God’s name in the Bible are so intentional that to investigate why they are placed where they are leads to opening up layers of richness to both the passages I am considering as well as aspects of who God is. I found both of these names to be interesting choices, but the reasons I found for their placement are full of encouragement and beauty.

Lord of Hosts. This means Lord of armies…angel armies…myriads and myriads of angelic beings are at the service of the Lord. I often use this name when I pray for things surrounding great battles; and while that could absolutely be appropriate in this context (Valleys of Weeping can bring about many battles of the heart, mind and emotions), I found another consideration that blessed my heart. One of the reasons God made angels is to minister to humans (Psalm 91:11–12, Matthew 4:11, Hebrew 1:7, etc); here the Psalmist, staggering his way through a seasons of great darkness—emptied of self—cries out to God for what he needs—many, many angels to tend to his many, many wounds.

God of Jacob. This one I just can’t get over. Let me tell you about Jacob. Jacob means “deceiver, cheater;” from the womb he bore a name that spoke into his life choices, and there was great cost to the choices he made. He cheated his brother Esau out of his birthright, and tricked his father into giving him the blessing not intended for him. And as a direct result, he had to flee his home and never saw either of his parents again. He continued his journey by working for 20 years for a man whose character flaws matched his own and then some. But instead of growing in bitterness and zeal for self, Jacob grew in humility. And when he was finally heading home, he heard word that his brother Esau, whose hatred and pursuit of revenge had caused him to flee, was coming to meet him with what was essentially a small army. And Jacob was undone; he took all his fear and despair and humble acknowledgement of guilt. His tired legs from running, and he grabbed hold of God with both hands and wrestled with Him—his determination that he would not rise without the blessing of the Lord left him not just with a limp, but with a new name and a family that carried the promise of the Messiah. Jacob reminds me that the moments of wrestling with God in the valley of weeping are the moments that change the way we walk; they bring about conviction and the certainty of proven faith if we will but drink from the springs of living water that are called forth from the Rock of Ages when the force of our fall breaks the hard places within us. Let us call out to the God of Jacob; the God who has seen our choices that didn’t pan out, our sin that caused great loss, our compilation of offenses done against us, our emotional turmoil that causes us to blunder and falter amid the failure and despair of life….this God of Jacob who has seen and even still will go before, stand beside, and come behind us to redeem to the uttermost any and every broken life with compassion and gentleness and the authority of perfect love.

Reproach

REPROACH: An expression of rebuke or disapproval; a cause or occasion of blame, discredit or disgrace; one subjected to censure [judgment involving condemnation; the act of blaming or condemning sternly] or scorn.

 

I can feel the pain of my soul—the entirety of my person—as I read this word and its meanings. Clearly this word remains stamped upon me; it covers beauty never realized like the defacing of graffiti, and mars like the careless application of a stamp slammed down with force. Reproach. The cause of shame…The subject of disgrace…An object to be scorned…A person to be despised…The one to be blamed…I want to accept these reproaches, to rationalize why they belong to me, to justify the hands that stamped them there (even my own). I want to examine each mark to determine its validity to see if the merit behind it should allow—no, demand—that I keep it to wear as a badge of dishonor, a warning to my future ambitions. 

But You look down at me from Your hanging place, where your blood stains both the wood and the ground beneath it. You’ve already determined the merit of my markings. You’ve already sorted what has been cast upon me, what has rested upon me, what ways I am to be despised.

“I am the Lamb without blemish; My blood makes the marked ones clean; My love covers a multitude of sins and leaves the ones who receive it free. I’ll take it all— every marking, every declaration, every judgment, every disgrace, every ounce of blame…the sum of all your reproach.”

"You know my reproach,
    and my shame and my dishonor;
    my foes are all known to You.

Reproaches have broken my heart,
    so that I am in despair.
I looked for pity, but there was none,
    and for comforters, but I found none.

They gave me poison for food,
    and for My thirst they gave Me sour wine to drink."

Psalm 69:19–21

May I walk by faith, not by sight.

The Saints on the Battlefield

I wanted to share with you a vision the Lord gave me several months ago, I wasn't sure what to do with it at the time, but feel like it is time to share. 

I was reading in Psalm 102 where the Psalmist speaks of Zion (the dwelling place of God), just going through my reading in the usual way, when I read a verse and suddenly found myself bawling—tears streaming out of my eyes. I was startled, and reread what I had just passed: Verse 14 says “For Your servants hold her stones dear and have pity on her dust.”

Suddenly I found myself standing on a huge battlefield, it stretched endlessly for as far as the eye could see in every direction. It was covered in rolling hills (similar to the end of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe), and sprinkled across these hills were saints (anyone washed by the blood of the Lamb). Every single one of them was holding in their arms a gigantic boulder; a rock so heavy it required all their strength and left no room in their hands for any other weapons. They were standing, looking out across the battlefield, which was covered with piles of rubble, and they were weeping. Not just “crying,” but weeping with the desperation and sorrow of ones who had just watched their loved ones be completely destroyed.

The battlefield was the Church. And the saints who remained standing at the end of the war were the ones who had not set down the boulders in their arms; the stones of Truth revealed to us in the Word of God. The piles of rubble were the fallen saints who had compromised and disregarded the Truth of the Bible.

Followers of Jesus, to survive the battle that is coming, you will only remain standing if you are rooted deeply in the Truth of the Word of God. You must consider the foundational truths found in the Bible of Who God is, what He is like, what He says is right and wrong to be dear…so dear that you are unwilling to lay them down for any reason to appease any person, including, for the ease of your own life, yourself. You must also remember who your enemies truly are (not each other or other people) and fight this spiritual battle not with physical weapons, but with prayer.