Mark 4-5

It’s kind of a joke around the house now, but when watching something action packed and seeing a character running (or stumbling to outrun danger), I mention to my people, “This is why I run.”

It’s doubtful I’ll ever be in an action-packed situation outrunning spies, predators or space aliens. My pace is no record breaker; but I know that what I lack in speed I can make up for in endurance. Endurance is my 2022 word for the year, and I rather expected it would have to do a lot with running. But with any story, the plot twist gets you to pay attention in a fresh way, and God is using this word endurance to strengthen my spiritual muscle.

¹³ Then Jesus said to them, “Don’t you understand this parable? How then will you understand any parable? ¹⁴ The farmer sows the word. ¹⁵ Some people are like seed along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown in them. ¹⁶ Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy. ¹⁷ But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. ¹⁸ Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; ¹⁹ but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful. ²⁰ Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a crop—some thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times what was sown.”

Mark 4:13-20, NIV

I woke up yesterday still motivated by a fresh intention to finish the year strong (goal-wise). I had my training plans and followed them … later over a recovery shake, a random post on candle making took me down a rabbit hole to beeswax and process … I never saw the one-two punch coming. Oh grief, time had softened my memory of you. I forgot how you stun-and-drop. One, two.

Lord, your word is always beneficial. As I turn toward the Scriptures today, I say to myself, “This is why I (read, study, meditate on your word).” I draw closer to you in this season, Lord. Thank you for teaching me how to endure.

Courtney (66books365)

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1 Samuel 27; 1 Corinthians 8; Ezekiel 6; Psalm 44

The psalms are honest in their expression. They give me permission and example to reflect, to speak to reality, to plead. I learn from this.

In psalm 44, I see this honesty, and I am challenged to praise God. To remember well.

³ They did not conquer the land with their swords;
    it was not their own strong arm that gave them victory.
It was your right hand and strong arm
    and the blinding light from your face that helped them,
    for you loved them.

⁴ You are my King and my God.
    You command victories for Israel.
⁵ Only by your power can we push back our enemies;
    only in your name can we trample our foes.
⁶ I do not trust in my bow;
    I do not count on my sword to save me.
⁷ You are the one who gives us victory over our enemies;
    you disgrace those who hate us.
⁸ O God, we give glory to you all day long
    and constantly praise your name. (Psalm 44:3-8, NLT, emphasis added)

I am challenged to lay down my confusion, my heartache, my struggle–look at it and call it what it is. To get real and honest in the ugly.

⁹ But now you have tossed us aside in dishonor.
    You no longer lead our armies to battle.
¹⁰ You make us retreat from our enemies
    and allow those who hate us to plunder our land.
¹¹ You have butchered us like sheep
    and scattered us among the nations.
¹² You sold your precious people for a pittance,
    making nothing on the sale.
¹³ You let our neighbors mock us.
    We are an object of scorn and derision to those around us.
¹⁴ You have made us the butt of their jokes;
    they shake their heads at us in scorn.
¹⁵ We can’t escape the constant humiliation;
    shame is written across our faces.
¹⁶ All we hear are the taunts of our mockers.
    All we see are our vengeful enemies. (Psalm 44:9-16, NLT)

I am challenged to go before the Lord, boldly. He’s my hope, always.

²³ Wake up, O Lord! Why do you sleep?
    Get up! Do not reject us forever.
²⁴ Why do you look the other way?
    Why do you ignore our suffering and oppression?
²⁵ We collapse in the dust,
    lying face down in the dirt.
²⁶ Rise up! Help us!
    Ransom us because of your unfailing love. (Psalm 44;23-26, NLT)

I know these years I’ve learned to suppress the depth of my feelings in myself and my conversation. I’ve also held back from seeking the Lord. This is a lonely, helpless, hopeless act masquerading itself as strength.

Father God, you’ve been so good to me. I know that no matter what happens, you are with me. I can trust you. I can trust you with the truth of my wounds and suffering, and you won’t turn away. You won’t smirk at my hurt. You won’t avoid it. I can praise you and lament and plead in the same breath, and you still stand. I can whisper and I can wail and I can rage, and you can take it. Teach me how to live, O Lord.

Courtney (66books365)

Isaiah 16-18; Romans 13

A woman I love lost both her parents and her sister within the same year. They were a close family, and this loss was understandably enormous. There were things she said that touched me so deeply. I have not forgotten her words.

In recent years, many events have caused me to examine myself and my beliefs. Where did I place my hope? Who did I trust? So many questions surfaced in a time of change, loss, wonder and grief. I’ve sought understanding in the wrestle. When life as I knew it and believed it to be was turned inside out, it became a time of challenging perspectives and making new connections. I focus forward. I cannot rewrite the story of the past.

¹¹ This is all the more urgent, for you know how late it is; time is running out. Wake up, for our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. ¹² The night is almost gone; the day of salvation will soon be here. So remove your dark deeds like dirty clothes, and put on the shining armor of right living. ¹³ Because we belong to the day, we must live decent lives for all to see. Don’t participate in the darkness of wild parties and drunkenness, or in sexual promiscuity and immoral living, or in quarreling and jealousy. ¹⁴ Instead, clothe yourself with the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ. And don’t let yourself think about ways to indulge your evil desires (Romans 13:11-14, NLT, emphasis added).

This dear woman lost her family, and many years later, I would come to know that type of void. God reminds me and underscores that I am His. There is a darkness that would delight in distracting me from walking in God’s light, in dressing me in rags of condemnation and wounding.

I meet the Lord at sunrise every day. I belong to the day. I belong to Him. He called me Daughter long before I ever called him Dad. There is shining armor with my name on it, and I am clothed in His presence. It is an embrace.

Courtney (66books365)

1 Kings 19-21; 2 Chronicles 17; Matthew 24

I listened to a podcast where the host remembered an interview with a businessman about priorities, and he said that taking care of health was the single most important thing one could do for his business. I wonder if business classes teach the importance of self care?

³ Elijah was afraid and fled for his life. He went to Beersheba, a town in Judah, and he left his servant there. ⁴ Then he went on alone into the wilderness, traveling all day. He sat down under a solitary broom tree and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors who have already died.”

⁵ Then he lay down and slept under the broom tree. But as he was sleeping, an angel touched him and told him, “Get up and eat!” ⁶ He looked around and there beside his head was some bread baked on hot stones and a jar of water! So he ate and drank and lay down again.

⁷ Then the angel of the Lord came again and touched him and said, “Get up and eat some more, or the journey ahead will be too much for you.”

⁸ So he got up and ate and drank, and the food gave him enough strength to travel forty days and forty nights to Mount Sinai, the mountain of God. ⁹ There he came to a cave, where he spent the night.

But the Lord said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

¹⁰ Elijah replied, “I have zealously served the Lord God Almighty. But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars, and killed every one of your prophets. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me, too.”

¹¹ “Go out and stand before me on the mountain,” the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. ¹² And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper. ¹³ When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.

And a voice said, “What are you doing here, Elijah? (1 Kings 19:3-13, NLT)”

I looked up an image of a broom tree, and imagined Elijah there. I emphasized words in this reading that resonated with me–about feeling afraid and alone, weary and despaired. Stress and worry and hustle are killers, consuming from the inside out.

Rest, nutrition, finding quiet before the mountain amidst the storm and chaos, listening for the Lord–are these things so seemingly simple that they get neglected in the flurry and fury of flight/fight mode? These things have become the top of my tending list, not an afterthought behind a lengthy to-do, and not my last resort when I have exhausted myself. Not anymore.

Father God, I am so grateful for your tender care. Your Word often reminds me of your sovereignty and strength–especially when I feel so small and insignificant. Thank you for meeting me daily in my walks. You are my source of life.

Courtney (66books365)

Job 1-3; Psalm 29; Revelation 10

He was about to lose his life as he knew it. I’m so thankful for these years reading through the scriptures, getting to know the people and my God better each time. But interestingly, the frequency and familiarity don’t make it easier–sometimes it gets a little harder.

I want to hit pause as I read the opening lines of Job–a man of integrity, a man who feared God and stayed away from evil, a loving father of sons and daughters, his home a place of feasting. He was considered rich by his community’s standards, and by my own standards his heart for God and family make him truly wealthy. He was a disciplined man, and his life had a beautiful rhythm.

And he was about to lose his life as he knew it.

This time around, it’s hard to keep reading farther. The loss, the wrestle, the tugging pull of assumptions, accusations, confusion–and a lot of that comes later. His pain is deep; he wonders many things; he wants to erase the wounding and lock it all away from light. There are many things loss dredges up to the surface that survivors must confront. This is hard work.

I know if I sit here longer with Job, I will learn things. Because there will be a time when life feels upended, and life as it was known is lost. How do I look at Job’s grief when I can’t even resolve my own? I turn the pages and focus on this: the voice of the Lord.

Across the seas and among the cedars and oaks, the barren places and wilderness, his voice echoes, strikes, wrings, and strips.

The voice of the Lord is powerful;
    the voice of the Lord is majestic (Psalm 29:4, NLT).

I listen for your voice, Lord.

¹⁰ The Lord rules over the floodwaters.
    The Lord reigns as king forever.
¹¹ The Lord gives his people strength.
    The Lord blesses them with peace (Psalm 29:10-11, NLT).

Courtney (66books365)