The windswept branches snaked around the body of the tree, curling, grasping. Weather-beaten, the tree defied all odds. It stood its ground. Roots dug deep, clinching their fists into the rocky soil of the mountain ridge, challenging the gale-force winds in battle after battle.
And stood it did.
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Father, I remind myself often that You are a God of peace and not a god of confusion or chaos. With You all things are done in order — there is an appointed time for all things under heaven.
The certainty of who You are is a beautiful reassurance for me as I watch world events unfolding. It’s frightening, Lord, alarming. It’s as if evil has been unleashed and decency has run out the door.
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Autumn reds have transformed into deepest burgundy velvet; lemon yellows now reflect burnished gold. Stark branches stretch towards the heavens and yield their transition to the new season of winter into the hands of their Creator, the Lord our God.
I picked up my steps as I rounded the curve along our country road. A strong north wind watered my eyes and blushed my cheeks. But my thoughts turned towards Jesus and His unfailing love and especially towards His mercy, new every morning.
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Father, I am so very thankful for Your mercy every morning that refreshes and sustains me. It beckons me to Your side, reminding me of Your love. Because of Your mercy, I am not consumed in the difficult place. Your compassionate love sustains me and gives me strength.
You are good to those who wait on You, to the one who seeks hard after You. In the seeking I find You, and in the finding, the promise of new mercy awaits me every morning.
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Bursts of copper and ruby red mingle with the green boughs of the hemlocks. Russet-colored leaves blanket the path, crunching and crackling beneath my feet. A bluejay bounces from branch to branch, chatting as he goes. I watch him flick his head back, and stretch his robe of cobalt blue as he proclaims the glory of God to the heavens.
A gust of crisp autumn air caught the outstretched arms of a maple. In unison, its flaming fingertips began to sway back and forth, back and forth. The worship, is tangible.
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