My Jericho

(from Joshua 6 and 1 Kings 16: 34)

God tore down these fortress walls;
My dirty hands rebuild them.
He commands, He warns, He whispers, He calls;
My willful heart ignores Him.

I pour the foundation and bury my Lord;
I raise the gates and nail Him high.
The bricks are whetstones to sharpen the sword
That pierce His heart and mine.

He destroyed what once held me.
I build it back in zealous lust,
Too proud to kneel, too blind to see
The mortar is made of blood and dust.

Dear Lord, I wish to let my hammer drop,
To let the fortress lie,
To let green grass cover the barren spot,
And rivers fill the streets so dry.



Joshua 1: 6-7 – “Be strong and of good courage, for to this people you shall divide as an inheritance the land which I swore to their fathers to give them. Only be strong and very courageous, that you may observe to do according to all the law which Moses My servant commanded you; do not turn from it to the right hand or the left, that you may prosper wherever you go.”

Strength. It seems as if more than once, especially over the last couple of months, people have commented on my having spiritual strength.

But am I really that strong? Or am I just so weak that God’s strength shines through?

Because when I look at myself, I know I’m not strong. Sure, I can be. When people need me, then I will do everything I can to come through for them, to be strong for them. And, in most situations, it seems as if God allows me to be strong for them, to be that person on whom they can lean. And I am so thankful for that; I am so thankful that God has made me a person whom others can rely upon.

But when I’m alone…I know who I really am. When I finally just shut my door and sit on my bed, when I quit focusing on all the crazy activities of life, when I finally let myself be still before Him…then I realize how overwhelmed and weak I am.

I am not as strong as people think I am.

Those times when I am at my “strongest”? Those are undoubtedly the times when I was begging God for His strength and guidance, knowing that my abilities were entirely inadequate.

In 2 Corinthians 12: 9-10, Paul says, “And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

I hope that when people see my “strength,” they can recognize that I am only the weak and broken pot, and that God is the Strong One who is holding me together and making me a serviceable vessel. Because the Strong One they see isn’t me — it’s all Him.


Habakkuk 3: 17-18a

Though the fig tree may not blossom, Nor the fruit be on the vines; Though the labor of the olive may fail, And the fields yield no food; Though the flock may be cut off from the fold, And there be no herd in the stalls — Yet I will rejoice in the Lord , I will joy in the God of my salvation.

The Lord God is my strength; He will make my feet like deer’s feet, And He will make me walk on my high hills.

The picture painted here is one of utter desolation. The trees and vines produce no food, crops aren’t growing, the livestock are gone…it’s a bleak, hopeless outlook, especially for people whose lives depend on agricultural output (which, really, all of us do). But there is no hope here, no joy in a dead farm.

Nothing is growing, nothing is going right. Despair, destruction, hopelessness, failure.


Tell me, where’s the joy in that?

I don’t believe there is any.

But Habakkuk doesn’t find joy in that life. He finds joy in God:

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.

God is enough. He is our joy. No matter how dismal my life is, I can still find joy in Him. We need nothing else; He is our joy.

Even when we are the lowest of low by the world’s standards, when we have absolutely nothing, when life is the most barren desert we could ever imaging passing through, just look at the position God puts us in. Look at verse 19:

The Lord God is my strength; He will make my feet like deer’s feet, And He will make me walk on my high hills.

I like how my footnotes explain this passage:

“The Lord God”: Here the divine name Yahweh is tied to the term Adonai, which means “Lord.” “my strength”: God will strengthen those who trust in Him [….] He will give those who live by faith the same confidence that a surefooted deer has  in climbing mountains [….] like a victorious army, the righteous with God’s strength will occupy the high hill.

God is the Strength I need to face this life.

He makes me able to maneuver the crags and crevices and predators and danger zones.

And He gives me the victory. Oh my goodness, He gives me the victory to stand tall with Him, no matter how Satan attacks.

God is my Everything.

When God Doesn’t Answer — Rambling Thoughts

Did you know that I have a heck of a lot easier time trusting God when I feel Him telling me exactly what to do and assuring me that everything’s going to be okay?

The other night God called me to send a text which I normally wouldn’t send. No details, but it just wasn’t something I would typically be comfortable doing. But I felt so strongly that God wanted me to send it that I obeyed. Granted, for the rest of that night and into the next morning I was completely fretting about the decision, wondering if I had made a fool out of myself, worrying if I had completely stepped out of bounds, and basically chewing myself up over it. Even though I kept feeling God tell me, “It’s going to be okay.”

You can probably guess how silly, ashamed, and relieved I felt when everything worked out perfectly. Just like God said it would.

But what if God is silent?

What if I’m begging for an answer to a question and He feels entirely distant about it?

What if I’m totally confused about a situation and I have no idea what to expect, and God doesn’t say a word?

What then?

It’s at moments like this when it’s harder for me to trust God. I grow impatient, I want an answer now, I want to know what in the world I should expect in the future, which hopes to hang onto and which to let go. And when God doesn’t give me an exact answer, I can be very tempted to take matters into my own hands and/or assume God wants things one way or another when I really don’t know what He wants.

I’m a high-energy, let’s-get-up-and-go sort of person. I like to move, to be active, to go do something. I don’t care for waiting.

But maybe that’s exactly what God is calling me to do right now. To wait.

And yet to also do more than just wait.

To wait patiently. To sincerely trust Him, even when I have no idea what He’s doing. To continue to serve Him whole-heartedly while I’m waiting.

There’s probably a good reason I’ve recently been listening to John Waller’s “While I’m Waiting.”

Why does waiting have to be so hard?

Maybe that’s just a rhetorical question. It’s hard because trusting on God and waiting for His direction requires my being patient, killing off my own desires, and choosing His will over mine.

As I read somewhere, nothing of value is easily earned.

My journey with Christ, my daily decisions to follow and trust Him, will be hard fought. But I know that they will also be entirely worth the battle.

Not “Just”

I recently borrowed a movie called Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. While there were certain aspects of the movie that I didn’t approve of, I fell in love with the overall theme of the movie. It’s a story that focuses on using one’s imagination, believing the unbelievable, and making the impossible possible. It has a beautiful plot with incredible quotes and photography that encourage the viewer to take a childish, innocent, and awed look at the world without any of the legalities and restrictions that our “realistic,” “mature” adult minds tend to use.

During one scene in the movie, the business-minded accountant — who has no belief in magic whatsoever — is asking the store manager Molly Mahoney what the matter is with the Emporium, which is Mr. Magorium’s toystore. Molly tells the accountant that it’s a magical toystore but he refuses to take her word literally, sure she’s using “magical” as a figurative way to describe the store. Frustrated, Molly tells him that he is a “just guy” —

“A guy just like you. Same hair, same suit, same shoes, walks around, no matter what, you think it’s all just a store, it’s just a bench, it’s just a tree. It’s just what it is, nothing more! “ (IMDB)

Ever since watching that movie, I’ve noticed the same “just guy” (or “gal”) mentality popping up occasionally in one of the Bible studies I attend. While we try to dig into Scripture, sometimes a verse just seems straightforward. Somebody will explain, “It just means that it’s only by grace that we’re saved,” or “It just means that Christ is the second Adam who saves us, just like the first Adam condemned us.” And then we move on. It’s just this, it’s just that. No awe. No amazement. It’s just matter-of-fact, take-it-as-it-is.

I’m getting to the point where I want to scream, “No, it’s not!”

Jesus Christ didn’t just die for us. God didn’t just sacrifice His Son for us. We weren’t just given His grace. We weren’t just saved from the punishment we deserve for our sins.

The problem is that we have heard these messages so often that we have lost our wonder for them. We have adopted that stagnant, this-is-a-fact-of-life mindset even in relation to the Scriptures. And let me ask you, how believable are the stories and messages in Scripture if we take a look at them as if we’ve never seen them before? God literally became a human being? God is three Persons in One? Jesus lived a perfect life and after He died and was buried for three days, He came back to life again? All of the wrongs we have ever done in our entire lives can be washed away by the blood of one Man? God actually cares about the measly human beings here on earth?

How believable is any of that? How “just” is Scripture?

No wonder Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it” (Luke 18:16b-17).

Children implicitly believe what they are told, and they tend to adore the teller. Jesus desires that same implicit belief and adoration. But children also never lose their sense of wonder and amazement toward the world around them. Don’t you think Jesus wants the same from us? For us to be ever in awe of what He has done in the past as recorded in Scripture, of what He is working in our lives on a daily basis? For us to never take Him for granted, to never rationalize and simplify what He has done as mere fact, to never say “He just does this” and move on with our lives?

Have we forgotten how magical, improbable, and impossible our God is? Do we speak of Him as “just God” or as….



Psalm 40:4a – Blessed is that man who makes the Lord his trust….

I guess that if there is one thing that I have learned in life, especially over the last few years, it’s that I really can’t trust anybody here on Earth. As harsh and critical as that sounds, it’s true: people are simply untrustworthy. But God isn’t. When He does things in my life that I don’t want, or when He doesn’t answer my prayers the way I want Him to, He is actually working in my best interests. He has not, does not, and will not let me down in the same way people are bound to do.

God is not untrustworthy. He’s just unpredictable.

It’s like riding a horse. I can trust my mount to always act like a horse. That doesn’t mean that I can trust her to do what I think she should do, or what I’ve asked her do, or what I think is the sensible thing to do. My horse doesn’t think like a human, so she won’t act like one. Simple, right?


Neither does God think like I do:

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” says the Lord. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways, And My thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55: 8-9

God will always think and act like God. Scripture tells me that God is trustworthy and always working in my best interests. I might not understand His ways – oftentimes I won’t – but I can always trust that His ways are ultimately better than mine and that even if I feel like He is letting me down, He is actually building me up.


Because I can always trust a horse to act like a horse – which includes being unpredictable – I always have to stay alert when I’m riding. If I don’t then I’m probably going to get dumped. I wasn’t prepared; I wasn’t watching; I wasn’t listening to my horse’s cues; I wasn’t ready to respond….

My relationship with God is the same way: I can’t just go along for the ride. God is unpredictable, and He might throw something at me I’m not ready for. And then what will happen? If I’m not prepared, my faith might be shaken. I might not handle the situation to the best of my abilities. I might mistake His unpredictable nature for untrustworthiness.


I have to be prepared; I have to be ready to ride. My relationship with God isn’t like my relationship with people, whom I tend to relate to at arm’s length so that I’m always somewhat protected if they somehow break my trust, and to protect them from my breaking theirs. My relationship with God is more like my relationship with my horse. I can’t work with my horse at arm’s length if I really want to know her well enough so that we can both grow as a team. The only way for me to understand her nature and to be prepared for her unpredictable ways is to be as close to her as possible, both physically and emotionally. To ride with close contact on the bit rather than on a loose rein. To watch her ears and not the clouds. To learn her reactions, her habits, her means of communicating. To build up our trust in one another. To create a relationship with her that nobody else has.

That’s when trust in the face of unpredictability is enacted. That’s when faith comes to life.

And that is how I want my relationship with God to be….How it should be….

The most beautiful, trusting, epically-glorious, and truly unpredictable ride of my life.


Love Is a Wildfire

[So I can’t seem to get off of these verses. The message they carry is so powerful – so amazing –so unfathomable…. I was going through them again this morning and God definitely talked to my heart, so the following post is basically from my devotion.]

Set me as a seal upon your heart,
As a seal upon your arm;
For love is as strong as death,
Jealousy as cruel as the grave;
Its flames are flames of fire,
A most vehement flame.

Many waters cannot quench love,
Nor can the floods drown it.
If a man would give for love
All the wealth of his house,
It would be utterly despised.

Song of Solomon 8:6-7

Not a candle flame. Not a fireplace. Not a campfire. Not a flare of a match.

Love is a wildfire.

A wildfire brings destruction, pain, and terror to everything in its path. Trees. People. Animals. Sometimes horrific, maiming pain, like the burned horses we treated at the vet clinic. But sometimes killing pain – it comes so fast, swift, sudden – bringing death. Our neighbor’s sheep. The fawn skeletons another neighbor found on her property. All of our trees.

But it kills something else, too – the places that we knew before the fire. I remember going back to our old home for the first time after the Dahl Fire. I have never heard such silence – like that instant after you are absolutely terrified by something and it seems as if you can’t hear a thing. And black – it was all crumbling black or gray, some yucca roots still smoldering, giving off white-gray wisps. It was as if the world I remembered – the world I had loved, the world of our “Twenty-Acre Woods” – was a dead friend.

Today, nothing can bring it back. When I go up there now, with the charred remains of the buildings all buried and the burnt trees hewn down and hauled away by loggers, I see a changed world – a different world. A world that is dead in some ways, and yet alive in others. Dead in all the ways that I knew it. Alive in the new grass, the new flowers, the new birds, the new plans God has for it.

Death brings rebirth.

“For love is as strong as death.”

(Oh my gosh, God, I get it. I get it!)

Many times, death is not the end; it’s only the beginning.

Love as strong as death. As strong as Your death that gave me salvation. As strong as the death of the hen who burned in a fire, sacrificing herself so that the little chicks hidden under her wings might live. As strong as the death of the trees in Yellowstone whose pinecones seeded more trees than there had been before. As strong as the death of the ram that took Isaac’s place as the sacrifice on the altar. As strong as the death of our twenty acres – our home, our trees, our hide-and-seek crevices, our riding trails, our favorite haunts, our thought-to-be-forever home – that brought us new life – Spanky, Jubilee, April, restoration of family relationships, resolution of personal issues, deepening of friendships, a new home.

Death changes things. Death can completely turn lives around. Apparently so can love. Because, when I think about it, God’s love for His people is honestly what brought about a lot of those deaths I mentioned in the previous paragraph.

Love can change everything. For the best.

But it has to be love that burns like a wildfire, not one that flickers like a candle. It has to be passionate. Passion: “strong and barely controllable emotion.” Maybe it’s even stronger than that, because a wildfire isn’t controllable. It can’t be held back. It is unstoppable until God wills that it be stopped.

(I get it, God. I’ve been holding back; so often I’m afraid to love. Dear Lord, please help me to have love like a wildfire…as terrifying an idea as that is.)

And You…You love me with this wildfire love. Oh God, thank You. Thank You. Thank You.

But God, what do You want me to do with this love?