For Every Drop Of Rain that Falls

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It’s fire season in the mountains, and we have been in a prolonged heat wave. Yesterday, as I was walking in the woods I felt a drop of rain on my head. Rain!

I am learning that thankfulness attracts God’s favour.

Soon the forest leaves dripped with beautiful rain.

For every drop of kindness, I thank you, Lord.

Let my teaching fall on you like raindrops;
let what I say collect like the dew,
Like rain sprinkling the grass,
like showers on the green plants.
I will proclaim the name of the Eternal;
I will utter greatness to our God.
(Deut 32:2,3)

Strawberries for Breakfast

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When he placed a bowl of fresh strawberries in front of me at the breakfast table, I knew I was in the home of a truly wealthy person. I was about ten-years old and our family was visiting an old friend who had inherited a grand Edwardian home in Vancouver. The previous owner kept it exactly the way it looked when his wife died in the twenties. It was a fine house with servant’s quarters, and call bells, inlaid parquet floors, and portraits of important-looking people peering down from the walls around the grand staircase. Our host gave me my own room with a four-poster bed and a Romeo and Juliet balcony -and strawberries on fine china for breakfast. I felt like a princess.

I don’t think my grandchildren believe me when I tell them that we didn’t have nectarines, or kiwis, or sushi, or even pizza when I was a kid. Pizza was a new fad when I started Jr. High school -and let’s just say it had not yet been perfected. We never had fresh green vegetables that didn’t come straight from the garden in the summer. We ate canned peas, corn and green beans and boiled carrots most of the year. Spinach was this vile black stuff in a yellow and red can that even Popeye would be loath to touch. Fresh Mandarin oranges, wrapped in green paper, only showed up at Christmas; peaches, nestled in wooden boxes, came off the back of a truck from the Okanagan in August; and strawberries, ah, beautiful strawberries, came in little woven baskets at the end of June. Strawberry season was so special that church ladies had strawberry teas just to celebrate. And we had strawberry shortcake with piles of whipped cream, or strawberry and rhubarb pie, or strawberries and ice cream for dessert until the season was over about a month later – but always at the end of the last meal of the day, after we had earned it by dutifully downing our mushy canned peas or yucky spinach.

But strawberries for breakfast? I had never tasted anything so good. Who has dessert first thing in the morning?


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I was thinking about Jesus’ first public miracle when he changed the water into wine at Cana. When he chose to replace the water with wine and to use the six giant stone vessels that held water for religious purification rites, he was deliberately messing with some folks’ idea of decently-and-in-order. He provided a taste of the wine to come (which, in Biblical metaphorical language, represented The Messiah’s blood ) in a display that was just like His over-the-top grace.  It was His job to show us what God, his Father, is really like, so He did. When the banquet manager tasted it, he was amazed that it was better than the wine the crowd was already a little tipsy on (because, as he noted, that they probably wouldn’t appreciate it properly by this point.) Like God’s grace, it’s quality was better than required.

At the wedding that marked the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus was giving a taste of the goodness of the Father, a filled-to-the-brim abundance of provision, to people who had no appreciation for its significance. John says he revealed his glory there – and he offered his family and friends a taste of the glory to come.

In God’s economy we do not have to strive to earn His favour. Like strawberries for breakfast, His goodness is served up for people who do not realize it is merely a taste of the glory to come.

Taste of His goodness; see how wonderful the Eternal truly is.
Anyone who puts trust in Him will be blessed and comforted.
(Psalm 34:8)

This week I had strawberries for breakfast -with sushi.

Mountain Morning

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Each day holds a surprise. But only if we expect it can we see, hear, or feel it when it comes to us. Let’s not be afraid to receive each day’s surprise, whether it comes to us as sorrow or as joy. It will open a new place in our hearts, a place where we can welcome new friends and celebrate more fully our shared humanity.

– Henri Nouwen

Show Me How You Feel

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Mine was not a huggy family. We didn’t slap people on the back, or stand up and shout at hockey games, or let anyone see us cry. And we were definitely not gushy. Words of affection were neatly tucked inside greeting cards and shared only at the appropriate times. Dancing was forbidden; even toe-tapping was unseemly in church, and laughter was contained in decently-and-in-order decorum.

And yet there was love, and affection, and enthusiasm, and sorrow, and always a deep emotional connection with music. We just didn’t express it physically. Blame on culture, or a fear of vulnerability, I don’t know, but being demonstrative does not come naturally to me. I’ve had to work at it. Music has been my main vehicle for expressing that which I cannot show, but when I lost my voice due to health problems, so many feelings became stuck inside me. That’s when I turned to art and writing.

Someone asked me recently how I plan to increase my worship of God. We agreed that worship can easily become a duty or routine without involving our whole hearts and requires a conscious effort to enlarge our expression. Can I admit a bit of panic? I assumed this meant they expected me to step out of my English stiff-upper-lip, German resolve, and Scottish stoicism and make myself do something horribly uncomfortable, like perform cartwheels in the aisle or give eloquent impromptu prayer speeches in Shakespearean English over a microphone.

I understand the importance of praise and the way it causes us to focus on God and his character. It’s not that He is a narcissistic megalomaniac needing constant approval and emotional boosting before He can get around to answering our requests. He is the source of love and only by spending time looking to the author and finisher of our faith can we ever hope to live in the power of that love. Worship makes us conscious of His Presence. I get it. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by His love and goodness and I run out of words. How many times can you say Praise the Lord or Hallelujah or Glory before the words lose meaning like gum that has been chewed for hours loses its flavour? Giving physical expression by raising hands, or bowing or kneeling -or doing cartwheels- makes perfect sense, for those who have not divorced this part of themselves. Until those actions become flavourless routine, as well.

It was while on this journey that I felt Him say something else about worship. Jesus repeated the scripture in Isaiah that talks about praise being on people’s lips while their hearts were far away. He was not impressed. He also said, “If you love me you will keep my commandments.” At this point we often make assumptions about what’s on the list of commandments so we can check them off. But what are His commandments?

Jesus answered, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. 

And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’

The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’

There is no other commandment greater than these.”


I like the music of the Piano Guys. I came across this video the other day which combines Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, with Extreme’s More Than Words. The song grabbed my attention and answered my question about how to increase my worship. I know the Extreme song referred to a physical expression of love between two people but there was a deeper meaning for me. The old marriage vows used to include the promise, “With my body I thee worship.” That could mean sexual  affection or it could mean getting off the couch to make a cup of tea -or move the couch for the loved one. At the heart of this vow is the importance act of paying attention and listening to the desires of the other. This is also called “worship.”

For me that has meant a season of coming aside and learning to listen to His voice, even though that action has not made sense to others. It has meant dropping involvement a lot of activities which I always assumed to be good, to obey and follow Him to a place of solitude and quiet where I can learn to separate His voice from all the others. For other people, following Him might mean pouring themselves into a construction project. or barrel racing – or doing cartwheels in the aisle. Maybe that will be part of my expression someday too, but for now I hear Him say:

More than words is all I ever needed you to show
Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me
‘Cause I’d already know 

The Path


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“The Spirit of truth will come and guide you in all truth. He will not speak His own words to you; He will speak what He hears, revealing to you the things to come and bringing glory to Me. The Spirit has unlimited access to Me, to all that I possess and know, just as everything the Father has is Mine. That is the reason I am confident He will care for My own and reveal the path to you.” -Jesus

(John 16:13-15 The Voice)


For people who have been deceived in the past, the real challenge is to not dismiss the truth for fear of being deceived again. Until we learn to trust the voice of the One who loves us perfectly, the deceiver is still winning.



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Christ is not a reservoir but a spring. His life is continual, active and ever passing on with an outflow as necessary as its inflow. If we do not perpetually draw the fresh supply from the living Fountain, we shall either grow stagnant or empty. It is, therefore, not so much a perpetual fullness as a perpetual filling.

– A.B. Simpson

And He Gave Up This View Just to Tell Her

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Out of the ivory palaces,
Into a world of woe,
Only His great eternal love
Made my Savior go.

You don’t hear many bass baritones in popular music (or sopranos for that matter). I have a theory that involves people being most comfortable with voices that fit into cheap radios without too much distortion, but now that the quality of sound systems is improving it is probably time for a greater variety of voice types to appear. Bobby McFerrin said, “Listening to only one kind of music is like insisting on living in only one room of your home your entire life.” I would say the same about listening to one type and range of voice -tenors and alto belters. I have pretty eclectic tastes. Admittedly, sometimes I have to shut off the music critic in me to hear the heart of the singer rather than the style, but I can hear it. I do long for freedom in my culture for a wider expression of praise in worship music though.

I remember listening to recordings of George Beverly Shea when I was a child. I loved the richness and power and fatherly comfort of his voice. I remembered him yesterday as I listened to another beloved baritone (with an incredible extension into tenor range) -Josh Groban. I don’t know if it was intentional, but so often I hear something in his songs on a spiritual level that causes me to pause and pay attention. Yesterday it was a connection to the song “Out of the Ivory Palaces” by George Beverly Shea. This connection was about more than range. The Josh Groban song was “So She Dances” and the line that stood out to me was “And I’m giving up this view just to tell her…”

It’s a romantic song, but it reminded me of the Divine Romance, when the King left the ivory palaces, and laid down his rights so he could allure the one he loved and win her to himself. (Though he [Jesus] was in the form of God, [he] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. Phil. 2:6,7)

The Church becomes the Bride of Christ in the great metaphor. It reminds me of the metaphor of Lover and Bride  in the Song of Solomon. It reminds me that the Bible talks about a great wedding feast at the end of the age when the King of Kings comes for his Bride. It reminds me of the great sacrifice Jesus made just to dance with us.

With just one glance the Bride captured his heart. He laid down His life to clothe her in garments of gladness and purity. In His eyes His Bride is beautiful.

Only His great eternal love made him give up His view just to tell her He loves her.

You are the object of God’s desire, and you are beautiful.

Spiritual Claustrophobia

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I learned something about myself yesterday. When the doctor set up the MRI appointment she asked if I was claustrophobic. I said no and I thought it was an accurate answer. Apparently I lied. During the procedure I ran through my entire repertoire of meditation, positive visualization, prayer for others and calming songs in my head… Looks like I’m due for an upgrade. I tried not to think about the reason for being there, and I did endure to the end (including re-takes, because breathing too hard apparently jiggles your head -even when it is stuck in a cage) although I didn’t exactly hold on to peace.

The tiny logical side of my brain (the part that required state-of-the-art machinery to find) could scrounge up some attitude of gratitude that a mobile unit with such fine diagnostic equipment was available in our town, and that I live in a country where having pre-existing (Is that like time travel?) condition and (technically) being unemployed didn’t put the cost of medical insurance out of reach.

But logic alone didn’t cut it when I was so squished in that tube that I had cleavage up to my chin (or maybe that’s just where I folded) and my head was held rigidly in a cage with warm sponges on either side of my face like an visiting auntie’s unwelcome embrace.

I sang “You are My Hiding Place” (in my head) and I thought about being safe in a cocoon, and even imagined Jesus holding me tightly in  a loving hug. But honestly, it wasn’t long before I felt like yelling, “Jesus! Let go –now !”

I was only about 15 minutes into a 45 minute procedure at this point. I squeezed my eyes shut and decided to visualize the opposite instead. Wide open fields, with lots of sky. I pictured myself flinging my arms wide and dancing. Instead of restriction I imagined latitude, expansion, immensity –freedom.

Hey! I made it. (Although the technician noted, as he pulled me out, “You didn’t like that much, did you?”)

I prayed for him a lot while I was in there. The Bible says to pray for those who spitefully use you. He’ll probably get a new car.


I am learning that when I am in a tight spot without good solutions (quite literally this time) it is often because the Lord wants to give me an upgrade so I can better understand who he is and who I am and what he has for me -by showing me what’s missing. I’m learning to say, “Well, that sucks. What do you want to do instead, Lord?”

I was in no danger in the MRI machine. There was fresh air blowing in and the technician hovered only a few feet away. I could hear him on an intercom so I could talk to him and demand to be removed if it came to that. He told me instant removal is not an unusual request.

So, processing this experience later, I asked the Lord what that was all about. The old song, There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy, started playing in my head.

Then the thought came: The reason I had to be under such restriction was because all this technology was focusing on finding what is wrong with me.

It hit me. Sometimes we need to focus on a problem so we can be aware of it and take steps to fix it — and it’s not a comfortable experience. But sometimes we can become so introspective, so perfectionist, so merciless, so restricted by the traditional constructs of this-is-the-way-it-is-done that we can’t move. We have no elbow room, no vision, no freedom. Sometimes religious practices that major on striving to be better by finding and rooting out all impurities end up feeling like being in an MRI machine week after week, month after month, year after year, and the end result is that we are more conscious of our sin than we are of the freedom we have in Christ. We become dependent on an institution or a mediator to point out our sin so we can do a mea culpa self-flagellating kind of repentance that keeps us restricted to a tiny sphere of influence. Without a vision beyond the confines of our own making, we, at best, merely endure.

Abba seems to be talking to me about grace a lot lately. I think I’ve got it, but then he says, “There is more! There is more, more, more than you have ever imagined! There is wideness in My mercy. I give you latitude.”

With both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God.God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us. (Ephesians 3 The Message paraphrase))

The first thing I did when I was pulled out of that machine was to stretch my arms and go outside where I could see the sky. Freedom feels wonderful.


I was going through photos looking for something else last night, when this one caught my eye. I took it near a place called Longview.