Clearly, I trust You, Lord, to take care of me, so why am I struggling? I hear You whisper, Let not Your heart be troubled. You remind me to be anxious for nothing, but in everything with thanksgiving let my requests be made known to You … and You will take care of the rest.
But like Paul, the things I want to do, I don’t do, and the things I don’t want to do, I do.
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A holy hush settled upon the earth. Remnants of snow lay heavy on the stark branches of winter. A faint glow in the eastern sky spoke of the awakening dawn pushing against the blanket of clouds covering the earth.
Stillness. Quiet.
Just moments earlier, I had asked the Lord to quiet me with His love — to still my restless thoughts where anxiety lay. It was then that I set my gaze toward the winter scene outside my window.
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Lord, the valley is deep. I’m stumbling over giant stones of overwhelm. I find myself tripping over the lies of the enemy — the very lies I recognize as such and yet yield to their evil intent to take my eyes off You.
Forgive me, Lord.
I know You to be faithful, full of love and mercy. I know You as El Roi, my God who sees me and knows all about it.
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The deep blue sky of the chilly winter day was a balm to my weary soul, for God’s creation calls to me as deep calls to deep. While I walked, I thought of the beauty around me; creatures as small as a field mouse and as large as an eight-point buck were all in sight against the forest’s edge.
I watched a hawk lift from its perch at the top of the tall pine. His wings spread wide as he swooped toward the meadow, the sun burnishing his rusty feathers with glints of red and gold.
He was beautiful against the winter sky.
His beauty deceptive to the reality of his intent.
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Lord, the Christmas bells are still ringing, and twinkling lights still dot the landscape. Sanctuaries still announce Your birth with red, gold, and silver raiment laced through the evergreens, and yet a spirit of heaviness weighs me and many others down. I need a breakthrough of joy, Lord. Rescue me from this sadness.
It has no rhyme or reason — this sadness. It just is. Perhaps it’s an accumulation of sadness — sorrow upon sorrow, until now it is beginning to consume me. Now I can distinguish it as a spirit of heaviness.
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