Lingering at Sunset...

Sunset. 

My favorite color.

(That'll be on a quiz someday. :))

Few things stop me dead in my tracks more quickly or rivet my soul more completely than God's fingerprints across the western sky.

I always, always linger...

And if I'm compelled to tear my gaze away before the color is gone, my heart lingers. My heart sings...

Sometimes there's a twinge of loss too... After all, the day is gone.

But there's so much to be thankful for.

Well, I watched a "sunset" today.

The last teenager in our house turned 20.

And my heart is lingering. 

Our day started early-- or late yesterday, as the case may be. I got my first "Happy Birthday!" in way before you were awake this morning between blasts of my siren at herd after herd of obtuse elk on the highway.

But it's been a happy day...

Happiest because of the joy we find in a God Who is faithful. . . and sister and daughter who is following where He leads.

And also happy because in the gather darkness that necessarily accompanies a sunset, we have begun to learn things we never could have learned in the light. 

The next dawn is still shrouded in mystery.

But we're all-out excited.

Excited about the altars that await us...

And the promises that sustain us.

And the joy of Jesus being All Sufficient.

It seems I'm seeing more sunsets in life of late...

Saying more goodbyes to yesterday.

But that's ok.

The stars are coming out now.

we kinda went "all out" this year, and planned a once-in-a-lifetime surprise party with beloved friends and neighbors...

Chantée's brainchild, the product of several girls' culinary art and creativity.

Thanks for loving Jesus, sweet girl...

All photos: © Joshua Nebblett

Hope is My Prison, Lord

It's been one of those weeks...
You know, when every 20 minutes there was another I-should-blog-that moment. And indeed, I would have posted more, had the luxury of time been afforded me. 
Instead, I transformed the office into a recording studio/mastering suite and ran through life from summit to valley to next summit (every twenty minutes!) taking it all in faster than I could even journal about it. 


Then yesterday afternoon it all came together. 


I haven't written a song in over a year... (Though I've half-written at least half a dozen)
And it wasn't because I didn't really want to. Just something would get me halfway through, and then drop me. 
I got to the point where I was nearly convinced I'd written my last song. 


Until this week. 


Then I recognized a sweet little melody woven through everything...


- Through the boxes and boxes delivered by our friend the UPS man
- Through fists wrapped around a taught barbed wire while starring into the canyon, and talking to a God that's a million lightyears away, and still within easy reach.
- Through middle-of-the-night prayers for a friend's safety
- Through reality checks
- Through emails not so easy to read  
- Through prayers for you-- my blog friends. (I pray for you by name-- all of you) 
- Through reminders of loss
- Through conversations with my little sister...
- Through hours spent pacing over dust and rocks fighting darkness and finding light...


Here's just an excerpt. Maybe the melody will never be published, I don't know...
But I'll always pray the prayer.


-- 


Water Your dreams my Lord, 
  with tears I shed
Feed hungry children Lord, 
  my promised bread
Send me to darkness Lord, 
  teach me to pray
Through fire or freezing cold, 
  I'll smile and say--
. . . 
Hope is my prison Lord, 
  love is my chain
If I can serve You Lord, 
  my loss is gain
I am a soldier Lord, 
  called by Thy name
Let me walk worthy Lord, 
  worthy of Your name...

Searching Out the Darkness

"It's not the life we're after. It's the death."


"It's not the light we're searching out. It's the darkness."


"..We're foraging for shackles."




Love it. Wish that there were a thousand where there are now only a few.


And make that three days from today.


Let's cover them with prayer.


www.richardsteffens.com


Baguio Episode 1 from Richard Steffens on Vimeo.

Freedom... [of leaps and landings]

"You like flying through the air like that?"


That's my dad. A calm, cool, collected guy, a brilliant physician, logical thinker, loving father, world-class leader, and my hero.


But he wasn't sure about this.


"Oh," said I, "That's ultimate freedom..."


He just squinted his eyes and shook his head and laughed. I love that look...

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  

Abandon...

Huge word. But I've never been much of a fan. 

I take after my father, actually. At least when it comes to the "three C's." And especially the last one-- collected.

I mean, abandon sounds way too much like out of control to me.

Right?

Right.

Hold that thought.

My Master has asked me to trust Him.

And to abandon my life to His grace...

"Serious?"

"Serious."

"Alllllrighty then."

And I've found out there's something that people who tenaciously cling to their own lives and their own crutches will never understand.

And that something is freedom.

Too many people are afraid to live with abandon.

(Mind you, there are plenty of people who do. Care-less and careless people. Not what I'm talking about.)

I mean abandoning myself.

Perhaps we worry too much about ourselves. About our footing.

Perhaps it's time we started worrying more about Him, (and His glory) and letting Him worry about us.

After all, if He groomed the jump, and sent you speeding toward it, He'll make Himself responsible for the landing. 

In the mean time, enjoy the flight...

Skiing from Sean Nebblett on Vimeo.

Privileged: Part 2

I'm reminded...

In death, there is life. 

 Though pain, and toil, and sacrifice are the lot of the soldier, 

And though it may appear that for this time he gets no pay,

Remember that God has not asked anyone to serve Him here

without promising him an inheritance hereafter...

There has never been a night

that was not followed by the morning...

"With the sovereignty of God is bound up the well-being of man. The glory of God is the joy and the blessing of all created beings. When we seek to promote His glory we are seeking for ourselves the highest good which it is possible for us to receive. . . . God calls for the consecration to His service of every faculty, of every gift you have received from Him. He wants you to say, with David: 'All things come of Thee, and of Thine own have we given Thee.'" 

God's Amazing Grace, Feb 22
Photo: Joshua Nebblett

Privileged: The Real Gospel

"The principle of the gospel is this: 
The gospel always brings life to the receiver,
and death to the giver.


If the gospel brought death to Jesus Christ, why would we think that in preaching the gospel it would be any less for us?...


So the mixture of our message is life and death,
And laughter and tears...


And this is voluntary.
This is not a sentence at all...
We're not sentenced to death.
We're just privileged to answer His call..."

--Jackie Pullinger

lifelong missionary to Hong Kong

Grace is Power...

Just four young adults and a veteran Toyota Corolla sporting new snow tires... 

That was us a few weeks ago. The trip was originally planned for 6, but God had other ideas. 

It was a trip like none other. We sorely missed having our parents along, but even in that I see the hand of Providence. He wanted this trip to be different. and different it was.

Our world is changing. I mean, the world of 4 young people from the edge of nowhere who love to work together, pray together, play together, serve together, sing together... And cry on each other's shoulders. 

We hear the tread of armies. Constantly.

And we see the gleams of a golden morning...

All at once we are noting in the world around us things that we've never perceived before. 

Some things that not that long ago had little or no influence on our personal lives are fast becoming our reasons for living.

I have no way to explain it, other than the fact that we've been captivated by Grace.

In all my years I cannot remember another time when the four of us have jumped into the car after a day on the slopes with young friends, pulled off our helmets (hair to the four winds) and had nothing to talk about all the way down the mountain but Jesus... 

He is so irresistible. And every time I turned around, I was looking into the face of another long-time friend and seeing the same thing written there. (for the first time)



I can't remember another time when one moment, I could be speeding down an icy road on a sled, surrounded by shouts of laughter and high spirits, and the next moment be on my back looking up at the blue sky saying "My Jesus, I love You..." (And the next moment be speeding down the icy hill again.)


I have never seen so much of Jesus in His children... Everywhere I turned, I caught another glimpse of His face. 

Our world is changing...
Or maybe not.
Maybe we're just tasting more of His grace... And He's changing the things we love, and the things we live for. Maybe that's why we don't pray for happiness, but for usefulness. Why we gladly exchange fun times for the pursuit of His glory...

I never imagined that broken pieces could be this happy... 


Grace is power. 
What it touches, changes. 


Eternal Weight of Glory, serving You is joy unspeakable!
Please keep us in Your hand...

Scars

Deep sigh. 

Silence.

Staring at nothingness. 

I leaned back in my desk chair while the reality settled in... 

“...He is pleading His wounds—‘My hands, my hands!’ ‘I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.’”*

And all at once I closed my eyes and I could almost see Him... 

--See Him standing in the throne room, turning for just a moment from the painful sight of yet another failure, to face His Father.

With tears in His eyes, and tears in His voice--

“Abba--

 Abba, My hands...

Look at My hands!”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  

You and I know those beautiful hands were forever ruined saving us. A friend of mine once noted that they might be more than just perpetually scabbed. What if they are permanently disfigured? 

My hands tremble, and my eyes fill with tears, even as I type. 

But you know what moves me yet more?

It’s the second part. 

“I have graven thee...” 

It’s my name that is carved on His beautiful hands. Carved with a Roman nail.   

My name is a scar on His perfect Person. 

But He is not ashamed of me. 

Indeed not. Rather, He holds me up before His Father, and says “Look at My hands...”

And “swift angels are sent to minister to fallen man, to lift up and to sustain.”*

This is Love. 

Only love can call scars trophies. 

*{RH January 4, 1887, par. 15}

Quote of the Day

From adult Sabbath School this morning: 


"We are on this earth for a purpose.
And that purpose is God."

I want to go Home...

Even on the happiest of days (yesterday included) there is a sense I cannot shake off. A part of my heart always throbs for the hurting world... A part of my life is always in tears for friends who are dying self-inflicted spiritual deaths. A part of my soul is always praying, pleading for the morning...

I hate the powers of darkness.
I loathe the forces of evil that push beautiful faces into the mud over and over again until they suffocate.

A part of me cannot, will not be happy until we are all safe at Home at last...

Last night was no exception. After a day loaded with blessings, I dropped in bed to claw through a block wall with my fingernails. And then I read a friend's blogpost.

Go read it. I couldn't write it nearly as well.