Over the Waters

It's been a season where I feel like I'm caught in a perpetual rain storm, I know that when it stops raining the scene that will be in front of me will be full of beauty...I can feel the impending thrill of a new season. But the transition has been long and arduous. I've found myself pulling up a chair in the presence of the One who separated the waters in Genesis 1, who parted the waters in Exodus 14, who opened rocks and earth to draw water up from the depths of the earth (Exodus 17) and broke open clouds to make it pour down from the sky (Genesis 7), who brings the rain as easily as He stops it (1 Kings 18), and manages the waves of oceans (Job 38). This song comes from my time in this chair:

i stand
in falling waters
they pour upon my head
i look
through blurry vision
eyes searching for what Your said
for I know
who You are and
i know on
Whom I stand
my voice rings out
through sounds of thunder
to the One who holds me
by my right hand

Part the waters
like You’ve done before
separate the waters
by the power of Your word
order the waters
make them pools beneath my feet
You bring order to the chaos
for the waters bend to Your authority

i stand
in falling waters
they pour upon my head
i look
through blurry vision
eyes searching for what You said
for I know
You are truth and
I know I
will not fall
my voice cries out
through rushing torrents
to the One who keeps me
Lord over all

Part the waters
like You’ve done before
separate the waters
by the powers of Your word
order the waters
make them pools beneath my feet
You bring order to the chaos
for the waters bow to Your authority

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.

Holy Blood for tainted flesh

deliverance
©5-7-2022 hannah mclean

i can feel the turning
of the tides that wouldn’t let up
i can hear the falling
of the chains that wouldn’t release
i can smell the changing
of the seasons that have brought perpetual decline
i can see the glories
of the hidden mysteries of His heart

who are you,
o enemy of Christ’s beloved,
to stop the Finished Work
from hitting its mark?

for what is it that poured with such a force
to push back the tide i couldn’t bear up against
to break the chains i could not pry apart
to change the days from barren to fruitful
to pull aside the veil to reveal the depths and heights?

it’s the Blood
Holy Blood for tainted flesh
Redeeming Blood for bloody curse
Blood that speaks a better word
the final word
with authority that makes you flee
carrying your workmanship away with you

and so i feel and hear and smell and see
i let the waters shift
the power move
the seasons transform before my eyes
where years of faith give way to sight
and endless darkness give way to light
and i lean in
into the wonders coming
from the fullness of the Finished Work
i have longed and labored to lay hold of

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. :)

The days of waiting

Holy Week ponderings:

It’s a day of waiting.
It seems to be intentionally placed;
between the horrors of Friday and the wonders of Sunday.
A day to grieve and to remember and to ponder.
It’s like the Lord sat His followers down lest they fight or flee;
Peter gave us a glimpse onto both of these paths
with the swinging sword
and the rooster’s crow.
A sabbath.
Rest up, He seemed to insist,
the real work is coming.

It’s a day of waiting.
My mind keeps wandering to Mary Magdalene.
I sit beside her with her wringing, wondering hands;
hands that had been redeemed for anointing and for honoring.
Mary wanted to be with her Lord;
in His life she had been by His side,
close enough to wipe His feet with her tears
and close enough to hear the whisper of His thirst.
In His death she resisted still the separation.
But the sabbath forced her feet to stay
when apart from Him is not where she longed
to linger.

It’s a day of waiting.
They had a promise, you know.
He told them what would be:
Death by crucifixion
and three days later
risen to new life.
Peter wouldn’t accepted it;
he rebuked the truth
and waged war on hands that bound and led away his Lord
to fulfill His purpose.
But sometimes it’s the times of waiting after the horrors of Friday
that dig out of us the faith
to hope in the promise of Sunday.

These intentionally placed days of waiting…
may we not waste them.

Through the cross

There’s something that keeps bubbling up to the surface of my heart and wanting to be shouted from the rooftops, so here I am…buckle up. :)

One of the greatest deficits I see in the Body of Christ in America, is this odd phenomenon of people accepting Jesus as Savior in word, but in action denying Him as Lord. Meaning, one claims salvation, but this decision for Christ has no bearing on how they live their life or what they do with their heart moving forward. Because I accepted Christ in my early 20s and with it came a complete transformation of my life and heartbeat, I have always struggled to understand how encountering Jesus can leave someone unchanged. I also recognize that we each have our own stories, so that is not a statement made out of judgement, but genuine curiosity.

I wanted to share with you an image that the Lord gave me during worship a few months ago. In this image, Jesus hung upon the cross with his arms stretched out wide. One end of the nails protruded from his hands and the other stuck into the wood; and as your eyes followed the course of where the nail was pointing out the other side of the beam, it found a second set of hands. Standing behind the hanging body of Jesus with His arms outstretched, His hands upon the bleeding hands of His Son, was the Father. With this image came this call: Run through the outstretched arms of the Son, and you will find yourself in the arms of the Father.

But how many of us lay down our lives at the foot of the cross, and forget to pick up the life Jesus died to give us? Jesus isn’t ON the cross anymore. On the other side of the cross is the empty tomb and the torn veil; past the foot of the cross is the invitation to lay ourselves down at the foot of the throne; through the death of the cross is eternal life for us to live out now and forever. Are you coming to the cross and observing the price of salvation in the bloodstained wood…only to turn around and walk home without receiving what was paid for?

1 Corinthians 15:17,19 “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins…If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.”

If to us the work of salvation is simply Jesus dying for our sins, we are hopeless; we will simply turn and sin again. Salvation is a two part thing, we die with Him and we are raised with Him: His death is our death, His resurrected life is our life. But if we never step through the extended arms on the cross, we will miss the extended arms of the Father…because Jesus didn’t primarily die to save us FROM hell, He died to save us FOR Himself and FOR an eternal, forever and for always freedom, joy, peace and life in His presence.

I think one of the biggest reasons the Body of Christ has been left unchanged is because we have missed the Father. We want to separate the Triune God and singularly choose the Godhead who demands nothing from us but gave all for us. The cross is approachable…on it hung a man like us; it’s where the serpent “crushed the heel”…where the “weakness of God” proved itself stronger that the power of man…we can wrap our heads around something weak and crushed and human…we can put into words what we find at the cross. But what we find through the torn veil…that is something altogether other…for who would even approach the Holy throne of the Living God but the one who by faith trusts the arms of the One who sits upon it. Yahweh is too glorious for human eyes to look upon, His Spirit moves in mysterious and miraculous ways…in His presence words fail…and hearts soar! It is there, in robes of white with new breath in our lungs, laid down a second time at the foot of the throne that we learn a whole new delight, not just that He is our Savior and also that we get to have Him as our Lord.

There is no better way to live.

And in truth, there is no other way to live forever.

A blind song.

I read Exodus 31–33 today in my reading plan, and I am undone. I choked my way through the children of Israel asking Aaron, the leader while Moses was up on the mountain with God, to make them a new god since Moses might not return. And then Aaron obliged them and fashioned a golden calf for them to worship, and I sobbed my way through his attributing the works of God to a shiny object fashioned by his own hands, and then with those defiled hands, making sacrifices to this idol on an altar. I wept and wondered at the relationship between Moses and the Lord; how he without hesitation placed himself between God’s wrath and God’s people—leaning on the promises from God’s own mouth. Tears ran down my face as I delighted in his desire to know God more; building upon his face-to-face friendship with God a desire to never live apart from His presence and to gain ever clearer vision of His glory. A terrible, beautiful read for sure.

But tucked into the middle of these verses, I found a sobering warning that I want to share with you.

While Moses was up on the mountain with the Lord as He wrote in stone His law, and while Aaron and Israel were worshiping an idol at the bottom of the mountain in their camp…somewhere in between stood Joshua. Unlike the rest of Israel, he was still waiting for Moses to return, his eyes were still looking up and his knees had not bowed to the calf of gold. And when Moses walked down the mountain to lay eyes on Israel’s rebellion, he met Joshua who said to him these chilling words: “There is a noise of war in the camp.” But he said, “It is not the sound of shouting for victory, or the sound of the cry of defeat, but the sound of singing that I hear.” (Exodus 32:17b–18)

Joshua didn’t know what was going on, but he recognized it as the noise of war. Israel DID know what was going on, but did not recognize that it was the noise of war.
To Joshua, the noises of war should have been clear—shouts of victory or cries of defeat. He was confused that while he recognized a war was going on, its sound was unfamiliar. Those in the war were singing. Why were they singing?

Because they didn’t recognize they were in a war.

Israel had folded to their fear and given themselves over to their true enemy. They had thrown away their faith in the God of Israel and given themselves over to their sight without a fight, and while they should have been crying out at their defeat, they were blind in their own rebellion and rejection of the Lord and instead danced around singing as the wrath of God threatened to pour down.

And that’s sobering. I feel like that’s a good consideration for today; we dance around our idols (anything—good or bad—that we place above the Lord), rejoicing in their shiny surfaces, singing praises to gods of our own making…not realizing that we are in a war and we are neglecting the fight. But if we don’t open our eyes, in the end there will be no collective shout of victory, instead there will be crescendoing cries of eternal defeat.

Open up your eyes, Church! Are you holding your place in the battle? Or have you chosen instead an empty song?