The birdfeeder stands with its generous invitation just outside my window. I take great joy in watching the cardinals, chickadees, goldfinches, and wrens feast at my table.
Sheer delight.
Monday afternoon my heart skipped a beat.
From the corner of my eye I saw a flash of rich, intense sapphire blue. It was an indigo bunting! His gorgeous blue feathers glistened in the sunlight, reflecting the radiance of His Creator.
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Lord, I’m listening. I’m waiting on You for I know You hear my cries. I know You stand ready to respond to meet my needs because of Your great love.
But I can’t hear You. I can’t see Your hand working. You have become silent.
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The morning light felt gentle and warm against my troubled spirit. I sat on the porch sipping my coffee, Bible in lap, Blue by my side. Peace settled over me — contentment that had been missing for quite some time.
“Speak to me through Your Word, Lord. I’m listening,” I prayed.
Opening my Bible, my eyes fell on the subtitle of Psalm 137: Longing for Zion in a Foreign Land. I paused and considered the season of life I’m experiencing.
It feels foreign to me.
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Lord, what a Mighty God You are! You amaze me with Your protective instincts when it comes to Your children. You guard us as a sentinel, hedging us in from the front and the back. You serve as our rear guard causing goodness and mercy to follow us all the days of our lives.
Thank You for going before us in all things, making a way where there seems to be no way. You are in my tomorrows well before I get there, therefore I need not be afraid. You are my strength, therefore I need not worry about being overcome by weakness and weariness of soul.
Lord, the power of Your Holy Spirit is within me — Your resurrection power that defies all odds and explodes with miraculous provision and intervention — keeps me.
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After sharing the Passover meal, Jesus and His disciples walked the dusty roads of Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives, talking as they went — Jesus trying to prepare them for what was ahead.
They came to the Brook Kidron, hoisted their robes high above their ankles and crossed over to the Garden of Gethsemane — the garden of the olive press. Olive trees filled the orchard, their gnarled limbs weaving webs of grace and beauty.
It was a favorite place for Jesus to take His disciples.
The symbolism is great.
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