“O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.” (Psalms 104:24 KJV)

Last summer, we went out of our way a couple hundred miles to stand on awe at the edge of the Grand Canyon. We spent two hours there. I could have pitched a tent and spent the rest of my life surveying it’s beauty.

This psalm was engraved on a canyon-side plaque. Somehow it also etched into my mind, intertwined with that experience. I stood there, on the edge of the abyss, surveying the manifold works and considering my own dizzying downward spiral with my Dad’s passing. I was overwhelmed by responsibility and grief.

My daughter, Sarah, stood behind me and snapped pictures. She urged me, “Mom, worship!” 

“I’m trying.” I thought. Most of my life, worship has been like breathing for me, easy, natural, necessary. But last summer, and particularly, painfully, in that moment, the weight of my life seemed too much to lift before the Lord.

“Mom, lift your hands.”

How could such a simple action cost so dearly? For heaven’s sake, I’m Pentecostal, I’ve lifted my hands ten thousand times in the past twenty years! But that day, my hands felt like lead and though I looked, I could not find Aaron and Caleb to hold them up.

I gulped and I decided. I would worship God in and through the deepest, longest gulch of my life. I stubbornly thrust tired arms in the air. “Lord, I will worship You in the midst of this; no matter how weary or overwhelmed I may be. You made this place, You made me, and together, we can traverse this.”

Click. The shutter whirred and that moment was captured inside my daughter’s digital frame.

Long winter months have passed.

This past Saturday, Sarah took this photo to Fine Arts. She received a Superior rating. I wonder, if the Lord were to tally my trust of Him in these past eleven months, would I get a ribbon? At least for participation?

A friend brought it up in prayer last night, the award-winning photo and the outstretched woman in it. They couldn’t see her face: tears streaming down and fear falling out.

Nearly a year later, I’ve finally crossed most of the ugliest gash in my life. Last night, in that same circle of prayer, I stood on the other side of the canyon and gave God the glory. Tears of joy and assurance welled up in my eyes, altogether different than the tears of grief and fear from before. My steps at the edge are now firm as I climb up and out of the awful. I can turn back and see what felt so ugly has actually made me more real, more beautiful. The view from the other side is far more fantastic because I see it through now-wizened eyes of experience and faith. 

There’s still some rocky terrain to encounter as I continue to make my way out and on with my life, but nothing compared to the sheer cliffs I’ve already climbed. And there is a strength in my frame that did not exist before.

The psalmist moved on and so must I.

“O give thanks unto the Lord; call upon his name: make known his deeds among the people. Sing unto him, sing psalms unto him: talk ye of all his wondrous works.” (Psalms 105:1-2 KJV)

I stand on the edge and shout praise. I share my story, because in it, He alone gets the glory! If there’s a Superior ribbon involved, it goes to my God who has never forsaken me in the midst of this mess. He is worthy, He is faithful, and He is as real to me as the ground beneath my feet. Do you know Him? Have you trusted Him? He is able.

Lord, You have saved us. From the lies of the enemy, and from our own weakness. You have bled on our behalf and reached out across the abyss. You have us. You hold us. You carry us or call us out and up through the deepest, ugliest stretches of life. Help us trust You more. Give us courage to outstretch arms in worship even when we are tired, when we don’t understand, when we are scared. Prove to us that You are real, You are there, and that Your love never fails. Amen.

“Sacrifice and offering you did not desire— but my ears you have pierced — burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require.” (Psalm 40:6 NIV)

Why would God pierce our ears?

I remember a Jeanne Mayo sermon about a servant who loved his master so much that when his six years of servitude was up, he refused to go free. Life in his master’s house was better than he imagined. And the Lord, in the Old Testament, had made an allowance for such a circumstance.

“But if your servant says to you, “I do not want to leave you,” because he loves you and your family and is well off with you, then take an awl and push it through his earlobe into the door, and he will become your servant for life. Do the same for your female servant.” Deuteronomy 15:16-17 NIV)

Friend, we are well off with Jesus. We are welcomed and loved as sons and daughters. Life in Christ feels less like servitude and more like coming home. 

We needn’t offer bloody sacrifices any longer, only ourselves. We bend our ear to the door and ask Him to mark us with the earring of ownership; tagged like sheep belonging to the Shepherd. To belong is better than going out free. What is freedom without love? What is love without boundaries for well-being? 

We also note; God desires male and female servants. It’s man’s aim to exclude women and thus, inadvertently, amputate gospel efforts. Didn’t the resurrected Jesus speak first, to women? If we are going to reach the whole world (Matthew 28:19) we cannot afford to exclude half the workforce.

Male or female, this ear-to-the-door dedication is what the Lord desires from us. He longs for a bowing of self to a generous and holy God. Our undying devotion and unwavering admiration is nothing less than He deserves.

“Then I said, “Here I am, I have come— it is written about me in the scroll. I desire to do your will, my God; your law is within my heart.”” (Psalm 40:7-8 NIV)

Lord, today we lay our heads against Your door. Might it be the Passover door? The trusty frame with Lamb’s blood spilled for the sake of our story? We press our ears against that door, we want to be marked as forever Yours. We submit, again, to Your perfect authority. Have Your way with our lives, they belong to You completely. Amen.

“My steps have held to your paths; my feet have not stumbled.” (Psalm‬ ‭17:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬)

We’ve been in, what seems to be, an endless winter. I’m not complaining, just stating a fact. We are more than three week’s past spring’s official start and bracing ourselves for the fourth snow storm in the same amount of time.

We came home from women’s conference and one of my ladies couldn’t quite make it to her door in her tennis shoes. Ten inches of heavy, wet snow had fallen while we were away and the street plow had been by and barricaded her house on every side. I had tall boots that day; I won’t abandon tall boots until winter loosens it’s grip. I had her wait by the car while I stomped my way to her house and back. Then I held her hand as she found her footholds in the snow.

A dear friend prodded me on the phone the other day: “Has there been a time where you were sure that God was carrying you? Like in the Footprints poem?” (I’m so thankful for friends who ask hard questions, aren’t you?)

Isaiah 46:4 came tumbling back into my mind, along with this dog-eared mental picture of my bridegroom, Jesus, sweeping me into His arms and carrying me through the darkest days of my life. When my mom died, this was my keeping verse.

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” (Isaiah‬ ‭46:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬)

Somehow, in that season of loss, those four promises grew strong legs and carried me out of the night.

My friend pressed further: “How has He done it this time?”

And I immediately thought of my lady in the snow; how I went before her and made a way where there was no way and she bravely followed in my footsteps, holding my hand, sure of my presence.

This year, Father God and I have teamed up. He hasn’t carried me, He’s enabled me. He’s punched holes in the heavy, crippling snow and made firm footholds for me to walk through the deep. This year has required every ounce of tenacity I possess and He has met me each in each courageous step.

Beloved, sometimes He’ll carry us. Other times He’ll make a way and champion us as we forge on. Either way, He is always with us; strengthening, cheering, sustaining, believing that we can navigate the course He’s allowed to be laid out for us.

“Our hearts had not turned back; our feet had not strayed from your path.” (Psalm‬ ‭44:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬)

We must stay the course and have courage. Spring will come. Morning will dawn. The light will return to life and joy will find it’s way back into our step. The only way to make long seasons last forever is to set down in them and refuse to be moved. Resist the temptation. Trust in the Lord and what He’s working out in and through this season. Remember that His plans are good and His love endures forever. Take a step or let Him carry you, but don’t stay put and don’t give up.

“Praise our God, all peoples, let the sound of his praise be heard; he has preserved our lives and kept our feet from slipping.” (Psalm‬ ‭66:8-9‬ ‭NIV)

Lord, we don’t like long seasons but we trust You. We are grateful that You meet us in the winter of our soul. Thank You for carrying us and championing us. We are so glad of Your presence and glad of the promise that winter won’t last forever. Please show us the way through. Amen.

“He spreads snow like a white fleece, he scatters frost like ashes, He broadcasts hail like birdseed— who can survive his winter? Then he gives the command and it all melts; he breathes on winter—suddenly it’s spring!” (Psalm‬ ‭147:16-18‬ ‭MSG‬‬)

“But all they gave him was lip service; they lied to him with their tongues. Their hearts were not loyal to him. They did not keep his covenant.” (Psalms‬ ‭78:36-37‬ ‭NLT‬‬)

God was grieved by Israel, and honestly, He’s often grieved by us. What grieves God? Lip service. Mouths that are quick to profess lordship but slow to live it out.

God desires life service, not lip service. He’s not looking for Sunday-only commitment. He desires the rest of our week. He is looking for men and women who will do more than sing His praise when it’s convenient, He’s looking for men and women who will live day by day according to His promises.

He’s not interested in lip service. He requires life service. Loyalty is the concrete evidence of a changed heart. The proof is in the pudding. If we can offer our lives, we know that God has truly reformed us.

The neat thing is, He hunts down the lifers to bless them, to pull them close and call them friend. His presence purifies and preserves their lives.

“I will search for faithful people to be my companions. Only those who are above reproach will be allowed to serve me.” (Psalms‬ ‭101:6‬ ‭NLT‬‬)

The Lord is looking for life servers. This makes so much sense when we consider our champion, Christ. The Son of God came to serve, not be be served. Why wouldn’t we also?

Lord, today we feel like Peter. We want you to wash more than just our feet, we want you to wash it all. It’s all unclean and it all needs to be dedicated to You. We need to be made holy. We don’t want to offer lip service, we want to offer life service. Take our lives and dedicate them to Your Kingdom. Amen.