clarity and purity and beauty

where all is clear
©5-23-2020 hannah mclean

there is clarity
in the purity
in the beauty
of the Holy Holy Holy

untainted by sin
wholeness
untarnished
lacking nothing

Creator
of wisdom
of vision
of life

nothing is outside of
Your scope
never surprised
never startled
never afraid
because all is known

all seeing
amidst stillness
steady hand
without defeat

victorious
Almighty
God of Wonders
God of Miracles

You unscramble
what is twisted
distorted
and maimed

if i am to limp
it will be after You have
worked
not before

Keeper
Comforter
Finisher of Faith

i will eat
from the table
You have prepared
drink from the cup
You have shared
lie down in the pastures
You lead me to
and rest with the
quietness of waters
ever beside me

there is clarity
in the purity
in the beauty
of the Holy Holy Holy

Gun-Shy

There’s a really detrimental view of what walking out our faith journey with Jesus is suppose to look like; the American version of the gospel is that once we accept salvation, all will be rosy. But the reality is, growing in faith can be painful. And I want to be real and open with you about a current painful refining moment in my life. You might read this and recoil at the audacity of what I say out loud...but here’s the thing, I already poured all this out before Jesus and He still loves me. So I can lay out what is shameful about me because I don’t carry that shame anymore, He voluntarily took it from me when He climbed on the cross and let His blood flow for me. 

Recovering from delivering twins has been hard, my hormones are still so wacked out that one month my hair will be dripping grease and the next my eyes are so dry I have to pour eye drops in them continually. I realized yesterday that my typical urge to cast myself and my physical challenges at the feet of the Lord has been checked within me...I am gun-shy. 

Yes, you read that right, I am gun-shy about entrusting my health to the Lord. Meaning, I don’t trust Him with it. 

Yes, I realize how insane that sounds. I have spent the last 15 years intentionally placing myself in the Lord’s hands. He has sustained me through the violent ups and downs of my health; He has healed deep wounds my physical weaknesses have inflicted on my heart and mind; He has gently tended to me in the ordinary needs and in the unusual; He has provided me with strength when I have had none and hope when I have despaired; he has even used my health problems as a bridge to salvation. 

And yet, yesterday I laid down with my face to the floor and wept as this poured out of me:

———

i don’t trust you
i desperately long 
to cast myself upon You 
to rest my physical body 
in Your creating, sustaining hands 
with confidence 
that You will 
tend 
and not break

pushed repeatedly 
to the edge of despair 
though You have sustained 
my heart bears 
the scars 
of painful valleys 
of dark nights of the soul 
of endless days of waiting 
looking to the hills 
for help to come 
and finding only 
the rising and setting sun

i do not trust You 
i weep at my doubt 
ashamed that my heart lies wounded 
when you have blessed 
and carried 
and revealed 
through every moment 
of bleakness 
and dread 
and fear 
and floundering 
i feel abandoned 
entrusted to my own 
helpless hands 
holding nothing 
but the realization that 
my faith is too small

i know that You are 
good present living kind
Healer Hope life
abundant safe Refuge
strength Redeemer 

help my unbelief 
help me step from 
under the shadow 
of years lost 
and into the shadow 
of years found

a crushed reed 
i may be 
but it is only the might 
of Your hand 
that can bear up 
beneath the weight 
of its fragility 

Father 
i long to rest myself in You
i long to feel my fear 
dispel in the presence 
of Your love 
weak but unwavering 
hoping but not waiting 
content in my lack 
and in my gain

———

Because here’s the thing, I just somehow endured a twin pregnancy. And yes, it was full of miracles, but it was literally my greatest physical fear and I had to look it in the eye and plow through it for ~240 days. I walked out of my first ultrasound honestly believing I would die. I had to feel the pain and strain of it on my physical body knowing I never even started with what was required to see it through. 

And I’m gun-shy. I am afraid of what trials I may face within His hands. Because here’s the deal...I know that the Word says that “a bruised reed He will not break,” but I also know...KNOW...that sometimes the fact that the bruised reed doesn’t break is not because it has been given strength, but because He is kind enough to sustain it through the storms it must endure. 

And maybe I’m really afraid of the storms in front of me...the sound of rushing waters hit my ears and I do not know if they are in my path or not. And I long to trust. 

And Jesus, oh my Jesus. He is so tender with my sobbing mess. “Let Me bear those scars,” He said to me—faithless and broken and poured out before Him, “I have scars enough for you. The score your body keeps, let Me wipe away the marks of days lost and let Me write upon you a new score of days redeemed and days restored.” 

And how can I not trust THAT love after all these years.

the Refuge that never fails

my Hiding Place
©4-26-2020 hannah mclean 

You are my Hiding Place
Your wings close over me
when life brings
pain unyielding
fear overflowing
brazen unknowns
that sweep the stability
of my feet
downstream

You are my Hiding Place
Your wings close over me
shielding me from darkness
when sides too steep
create valleys too deep
to venture forth
or rise
Your presence
passes through
my fingers vainly covering
to show me light
in the dark nights
of my soul 

You are my Hiding Place
Your wings close over me
shelter
in the battles
that rage
inside and out
in the storms
that toss me
bruising
breaking
bewildering
in the many rushing waters
that threaten to
uproot the hope
dislodge the dream
distort the way
and
in the mundane sway
of waiting
waiting
day by day

You are my Hiding Place
Your wings close over me
when forgotten shadows
of times past
emerge within me
crippling the moment
marring the movement
of my present
i writhe beneath
the weight of
my weakest places
unafraid
to look
to feel
to weep
for i have learned
the ways of Your
mysterious healing measures
safe in Your shadow
mine yield

You are my Hiding Place
Your wings close over me
the Refuge
that never fails
fashioned from the everlasting stones
of Your love

wounds

a father’s voice
©4-24-2020  hannah mclean

your voice was not there
my life moved from darkness to light
my heart changed from stone to flesh
my soul moved from death to life
and fruit abounds from the changes that transformed me from within
i hold out my offering for Him
allowing you to look upon the firstfruits of my life
desiring to share with you the beauty of what had been done
by the Almighty’s hand
but you turn your back and leave me
looking at the basket I cling to with an eager grip
wondering if i have woven it correctly
uncertain if the fruit will please Him
wishing i had something better
something more
to bring my Father

when i needed to hear you say to me
“well done, faithful one”
when i needed to hear you say to me
“i see evidence of God’s grace in you”
when i needed to hear you say to me
“He delights in your worship”
your voice was not there

but it is not just the absence of your affirmation
it is the volume of your turned back
“He will not accept your worship”
it is the volume of your voice withheld
“your thoughts of Him have no value”
it is the volume of your averted eyes
“the best of you cannot bring Him delight”

your voice was not there
and all these years later i still find myself
longing for a father’s voice
to affirm my steps
to build up my faith
to stand beside me and to spur me on
not because i crave the praise of man
but because the wounds i carry
seek healing balm
as i purpose to require and desire nothing
but the One I long to please

seek the Lamb

Lamb and Lion
©3-22-2020 hannah mclean

there is a Lamb
there is a throne
there is worship to be given
there is a God who WILL be known

there is a Lion
there is a sword
there is honor to be given
to the One, true, living Lord

and if you do not
seek the Lamb
you won’t withstand
the Lion’s might
for the One who sits
upon the throne
embodies all that’s right
for the Lord who bids you welcome
stands as slain that you might come
before He roars
His second coming
and all creation
comes undone

there is a Lamb
and there is blood
there are sins that MUST be covered
that are rising as a flood

there is a tomb
there rose a King
there is redemption
laid before us
will you weep
or will you sing

for if you do not
seek the Lamb
you won’t withstand
the Lion’s roar
reach out for mercy and compassion
lest Grace’s offer
is no more

A "Hallelujah" in Every Season

This morning I brought the Lord a “Hallelujah.”

I was thinking about a song I wrote a few years ago about how we bring to the Lord the fullness of this word—“Hallelujah”—in the different seasons of our life, and how it is drawn from different places within us, how it resonates with different nuances of whatever has flavored our moment, and that its honest tones relay a multitude of words that come up lacking beside it.

So this morning, as this song rolled through my mind, testifying of the complexities of the seasons I have walked through before and how this “Hallelujah” has reverberated from my heart in them, I gathered all the pieces of my current moment…the failures, the triumphs, the pains, the confusions, the impatience, the joy, the thanksgiving…and with no need to sort through it, I bound them up in this honest, simple word of praise—chock full of desire and understanding and complicated floundering—and directed it upwards to my Lord with an undivided heart.

And this beautiful God of mine received it, with all it held and all it lacked. I offered Him the honest praise from my current season, and He received it…just as it was. I wish I could explain to you what happens to my heart when I find myself accepted, again and again and again. And I also hope that I will never stop marveling at the Lord’s willingness to hold within His spotless hands a blemished lamb, who with honest, pleading wanting has simply turned its eyes toward Him.

Hallelujah.

Clarifying the sacrifice.

My daughter asked me yesterday what the word “diverge” meant. I told her that it meant to suddenly veer off in a new direction. This conversation popped back into my head today after I shared with a friend how my life had seemed to be on a course, when, with the revealing of twins in my womb, I was abruptly set on a different path leading to unknown places.

God seemed to be opening doors for me to walk through; doors that utilized abilities and tapped into passions I carry inside me that long to be used, grown and relayed. And in an instant, all of life came to a screeching halt as I was brought face-to-face with a future filled with unknown territory and demands.

I feel like I stopped moving my feet and simply was left to look longingly at the open doors in front of me that now seem too far out of reach.

You know, motherhood requires a lot of self-sacrifice; daily you are called to set aside your needs and wants to tend to others. My daughter wanted to make breakfast for everyone the other day and when she finally headed to the breakfast table with her own plate of cold food, she sighed and said, “I don’t think I’m going to do that again.” But motherhood asks you to “do that again”; to lay yourself aside again and again for the sake of others you love. And I am grateful to learn this sacrificial love, and to wrestle for the heart of gratitude that allows me to do it without resentment or discontent.

And I have been looking at this situation of a twin pregnancy meeting open doors that I must walk past as a sacrificial act of love; where I set aside the gifts and abilities that would have been used and grown there for a different season that I have been called to.

But I’ve been looking at it the wrong way.

I often think of the gifts and abilities that I’ve gained over the years of walking with the Lord as being things He uses or doesn’t use as He desires. After all, they’re His, not mine, and exercised outside of His anointing and presence they could bring about no fruit for the Kingdom. And if I am not in a season where He asks me to sing on the worship team, or use my graphic design skills, or be involved in trafficking outreach, or lead prayer gatherings, then I feel like my gifts and abilities are left dormant until He calls them up again. I try to be faithful in every season; willing to be used in little or in much, submitted to His hands.

But God never told me to set aside the abilities and giftings I have gleaned from one season as I move to another. I’m to carry them with me…to find ways to bring them into the next place I must stand. I don’t think I’ve done that well. I may never sing on a worship team again, but that doesn’t mean the songs I’ve written shouldn’t echo off the walls of my own home. I may never lead a prayer meeting again, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be leading my own chlidren into lives of intersession. I may never join a creative round table again, but that doesn’t mean I can’t teach my children the power of visual advocacy and creatively displaying ideas. I may never teach women the Word, but that doesn’t mean teaching my future women is any less a gift.

God never asked me to sacrifice my gifts and abilities when I change seasons.

So what did I ACTUALLY set aside when I diverged from the path I thought was being laid out in front of me? My own idea of what things would look like; what I, with my limited imagination, could visualize. When I look at it that way, I find that’s actually not a hard thing for me to sacrifice; I’ve learned over the last 15 years that as unusual or unexpected as God’s ways may be, they are always better than my own. His desires, His way. That’s what I want.

And I’m grateful to shake off the pain of “self” from this diverged path; because the destination to where I walk is certainly a place of gain, not of loss.