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The Raven Speaks

As for me, time spent in nature means time spent connecting and communicating with our Creator God.  And ravens speak to me.  Not literally, of course (lest you think I’ve lost my mind completely).  And not in some dark, macabre way, as some would imagine.  But in a coruscating light-filled visionary way, I suppose.

Sauntering through a shop in the historic district of Old Quebec, a glistening black-winged raven catches my eye. Ravens—independent flight takers of wilderness heights. I admire it.  Perhaps even envy it.

“Do you like ravens?”  The young Inuit shop keeper takes me off guard.

Words spill out, bubbling over, in an attempt to put language to thoughts never voiced. 

The shop keeper translates for me, “Oh, it’s your totem”.

Don’t go there, religion whispers.  But the raven speaks louder, and I make a decision to choose connection without judgment.

“Why, yes.  It’s my totem”.

And in that sacred moment, together we move, my First Nations brother and I, to a higher spiritual plane.  Choosing connection at his heart level and communication through his heart language, I become a trail sister on life’s journey towards closer communion (common union) with our common Father.

Nature is the common language in which God is revealed.  Nature, and all creation, testifies to God.  It speaks a common heart language to all mankind.  And I listen … in any way He chooses to speak.

Love & Peace,

“Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”  Job 12:7-10

Posted on by Lois Stephens

The Journey Back to Eden: A Poetic Reflection


She inherited a clear mountain stream
It murmurs and burbles with hope & dreams.
Life-giving waters that renew & refresh
Lined with fruit-yielding trees that long to bless.

She inherited a wood where roots run deep
Where leaves do not wither, where souls do keep.
Where hope springs eternal in her fertile breast
A lush garden, a vineyard, a celestial nest.

Cast out of Eden love welcomed her back
Forgiven, redeemed with no shame attached.
A fountain of grace springing up from within
She inherits a Life that has always been.

Love & Peace,

“We were never cast out of Eden. We merely turned from it and shut our eyes. To return and be welcomed, cleansed and redeemed, we are only obliged to look.” – Margaret Renkl

“…Every fountain of delight springs up from your life within me!”  Psalm 87:7 (TPT)

Posted on by Lois Stephens

Table of Trust

The LORD speaks, “I prepare a table before you in the presence of your enemies”.  So, I pull out a chair and take a seat at the table.  I mean, what else can I do?  And I eat.

* * * * * * *

In 1888, the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche wrote, “Out of life’s school of war—what doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger.”  This aphorism has been quoted, paraphrased, and parodied by people throughout the world since.

Yet 2,000 years before, a young shepherd boy and giant killer, who will later become King of Israel, said it this way: “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies”, delivered as a poetic praise to G-d.

The symbolic table of trust—an inexpressible mystery that transcends my limited understanding. My enemies become bread at the table of trust. I eat the mystery, no matter how difficult to swallow. And I am stronger because of it.

Love & Peace,

Author’s note: When I refer to “enemies” I am not referring to people, but the enemies of my soul. I understand all too well, that at times, my greatest enemy is myself.


“We Have Met the Enemy and He is Us.”

Walt Kelly

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Holding Hands With Strangers

Driving along the rim of wild, navigating a backcountry road in Maine, I embrace the solitary.  Content in the fellow-less firmament, holding hands with nature, I enjoy an awareness of simply being.  Until …

A stranger walking the road ahead.  Who is she?  Why is she here?  And the biggest question of all … do I stop to ask if she needs help?  Fear would say no, but a greater faith speaks. 

“Hello there. Are you okay? Would you like a ride?”

“A ride would be much appreciated.“

By the rim of the wild, I could not turn away from the tears in her eyes, so I left my fellow-less firmament to hold hands with a stranger that day.

“What’s your name?” (it seems the right thing to ask).

“Amy”, she replies (a name I know means beloved and dearly loved).

She tells me her story:  a broken-down vehicle, miles to hike to her wilderness camp, eight passerby and not one willing to stop.  A sad lament of rejection, loneliness and fallen faith in her fellow man; I cringe. 

I silently entreat the light of God’s love to shine upon The Beloved’s discouraged heart, as we drive the distance to her rustic camp and deliver her safely at tent’s door.

Days later, in a serendipitous moment, we meet once again at the local town store. 

“It’s you!  I was just telling my family about the kindness you showed me.”

Amy the Beloved’s face shines with renewed faith and hope in her fellow man because of one small act of kindness.

Something happened that day in the wild, when I did not turn from the tears of another but made the decision to hold hands with a stranger. 

Could it be that holding hands with nature, in the wrap-around presence of the loving Creator God, brings an awareness of a deeper spiritual connection we have with all of God’s creation? An awareness that empowers me to hold hands with strangers?

Holding hands with strangers is rarely comfortable, especially for an introvert like me. Yet I have to believe that the reward for doing so is exceedingly great.

Love & Peace,

I think we need to do some deep soul searching about what’s important in our lives and renew our spirit and our spiritual thinking, whether it’s through faith-based religion or just through loving nature or helping your fellowman.

Louie Schwartzberg

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13

The Holy Bible

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A Lonesome Journey of the Heart

Man Siting on Log in Center of Forest Panoramic Photo

A walk in the wood.  A rustic log bench.  An invitation to take a seat upon nature’s pew, so I do. 

The memory comes out of nowhere—and everywhere—at the same time.  I’ve experienced it before, and acquiesce to the process.  

The church pew feels hard and sticky against the back of her bare legs.  The man up front is talking … a lot.  He says that God gets angry when we do bad things. 

The girl squirms.  She wants desperately to pop her thumb into her mouth, to soothe herself from the uncomfortableness of it all, but the shame she’d feel if the others knew she still sucks her thumb keeps her tiny hand balled tightly against her side.  

And besides, she doesn’t want God to get angry with her for doing “the bad thing”.

So instead, she wiggles next to her father and hides her face in the scratchy tweed of his Sunday-best.  In the hidden place, she breathes in and sighs, or maybe it’s a yawn, or maybe a little of both.

Without a word between them, and as nimble-fingered as a stealthy pickpocket, her father quickly reaches into an inside pocket, silently unwraps the lolly and pops it into her mouth. 

The memory lingers softly.  There’s nothing sweeter and more satisfying than the taste of a father’s love. 

My father was far from perfect, but he was kind.  He rarely, if ever, raised his voice and never his hand.  I did not doubt his love for me—ever.  He helped form my view of God as a father in a positive way.  For this I am grateful.

I realize others have a different story.  Raised voices and heavy hands fill their memories.  They weren’t loved in a healthy way.  (I don’t pretend to understand.)  Because of their experience, they may have a difficult time relating to God as father.  For this I am sorry. 

However, the essence of fatherhood springs from God, not man.  The behaviors of our earthly fathers, no matter how good or bad, are not the standards by which God’s love can be measured. 

God’s love transcends the borders of my life experiences into a wild wilderness I am longing to brave.  It takes courage to go at it alone—a lonesome transformative journey of the heart that I’ll be navigating the rest of my life. 

The first step is always the hardest, but the journey will take your breath away.

Love & Peace.

“Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called the children of God!” 1 John 3:1-3 NKJ

Posted on by Lois Stephens

3 Dimensional Thoughts

My thoughts are 3 dimensional.  I take a hard look, flip them over, turn them upside down and then do it all over again.  It’s not easy living a life of 3 dimensional thought and translating those thoughts onto 2 dimensional paper.  I mean, what happens to the missing dimension? 

I can only suspect it lives in spirit—in the writing’s heart and soul.  That, to me is the challenge—to go beyond the visible, the recognizable and the momentary, to somehow express the invisible qualities of the spirit of thought into mere words on paper.  To fill paper with the breathings of the heart, as Wordsworth would say.

The beloved Apostle penned his chronicles of the Christ.  He describes him as logos, the Word made visible, giving his audience a new, unique view of the Invisible Spirit of God through a powerful divine self-expression:  Jesus Christ, the living Word of God.

The Word clothed in skin and fleshed out among us.

If the Invisible God expressed His thoughts perfectly through logos, is it possible for me to experience logos in such a way that my words could somehow express the invisible, the sometimes unrecognizable, Spirit-thoughts of God?

I’m reminded of how the Apostle ends his narrative—the Aramaic is especially poetic, “The world itself would be emptied out into the books that would be written”.  John is speaking of logos, the Living Expression of the Invisible God, wrapped in a multitude of good thoughts towards mankind.  

There is always a word, wrapped in a thought.  Followed by another.  Followed by another.  An unending ballad published among the heavenly seas, its verses written far into eternity.

To travel in thought beyond the visible, the recognizable, the momentary into the beauty realm of Spirit … into the beauty realm of prose, I suppose … for me is heaven.

A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

William Wordsworth

Where are your thoughts traveling today? Perhaps you’ll find God waiting for you there. For no one is ever really alone and He makes for a marvelous traveling companion.

Love & Peace,

In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul. Psalm 94:19

Posted on by Lois Stephens

The Good Eye

“I wonder why I didn’t see it there before …”. Belle, from “Beauty and the Beast”

“You have a good eye”, she says.  “A good eye for color.”  I like the sound of that.  A good eye–my heart smiles.  I feel artistic, creative, color-full.  Yet, what does it really mean–to have a good eye?

I read the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, “There is no object so foul that intense light will not make beautiful.“

He says it, too, the beast/prince to Belle in the fairytale, “Try to find me and know me…no matter how I may be hidden from you.”

Is it possible to see this world with a good eye?  To see the prince in the beast? To see beauty in the ugly, in the wretched, in the unlovely?

“The eye is the lamp of the body.  If your eyes are healthy (good), your whole body will be full of light“, the words of The Good Book reveal.

Full of light.  To be light-full.  No hate, no disgust, no evil intent.  Soul eye clear of life’s distorting cataracts–those shifting memory-shadows that shade, darken, infect.

A view through the lens of wabi-sabi: finding beauty in imperfection. Eye-filling goodness that transforms. 

Centered only on the prevailing light of the good eye of the Father of Lights … the bad eye becomes the good eye, seeing through the wretched to the hidden good and perfect gift within. 

 “Try to find me and know me…no matter how I may be hidden from you.”

Is it possible to see the world around me with a good eye? I’m not sure. But I think I’m willing to give it a try. At least I want to be willing. And maybe that’s good enough for now.

Love & Peace,

Note: Updated from my archives.

Our hearts are with the victims and their families in Dayton and El Paso. They remain in our prayers.

 

Posted on by Lois Stephens · 1 Comment

A Revelation of a Revolution

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Human dignity—the foundation of human rights. 

Call me strange, but I really do believe that every living man, woman and child has an innate ability to hear God’s Voice. I also believe that nothing brings more dignity to humankind than knowing that the God of the Universe desires to share His good thoughts towards us–thoughts of a hope-filled future.

Prophecy (hearing God and speaking what He says) restores human dignity–the necessary cornerstone of a human-rights approach to social justice. 

Today, I am looking to the Heavens. If only God would once again send those who know His Voice, and who are not afraid to stand for Truth, into the harvest fields of justice upon the earth.

Yet, at the same time, the still small voice within reminds me that heaven’s view of justice may not necessarily be my own. 

Looking to the horizon, I sense the approach before it fully comes into view. A revelation of a revolution. I’m talking a “Martin Luther King, Jr., I have a dream!” kind of revelation. A revelation of a cleansing movement of Truth that brings about a revolution in the hearts of men that births something new upon the earth.

I don’t pretend to know what it will look like, but I do know this … God’s Voice living through His people will be in its foundation.

“Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; love and faithfulness go before you.” Psalm 89:14

God is building a foundation.  If you want to be at the top … well, that could be a problem.

Love & Peace,

Lois

Posted on by Lois Stephens · 6 Comments

Untied Laces

I re-read the words—the words of the Baptizer, the wilderness reformer who eats locusts and wild honey… 

“…He whose shoe lace I am not worthy to untie”. 

He speaks of the Son of his mother’s cousin, Mary. 

Lost in thought, my fingers play with the leather bracelet on my wrist—a cherished gift made from the laces of the shoes of my dearly-departed father. 

The lace between my fingers, once rough and tough, now smooth and soft with age, reminds me of my father’s hands.  They bid me come.  There’s something I must know.

Flipping pages, I read again, and the words draw me into the story …

Jesus rises from the meal and removes his outer robe.  He takes a towel and wraps it about his waist, then fills the basin with water.  No one speaks. 

One by one, he unties laces, washes and dries feet.  He turns towards me with a look of pure love.  I am Peter.

“Oh, no, never!  Not my dirty feet.  How awkward, how embarrassing, how shameful! 

“If you don’t allow me to wash your feet, you cannot share life with me.”

The words hang heavy, along with my head and heart.  Tears rim my eyes.

“Friend, don’t you know that you are already clean?  You’ve been washed completely, only your feet need washed”.

Suddenly, a watercourse of understanding flows from my spirit headwaters within.  In Hebrew culture, shoes are often used in covenants of inheritance.  By allowing Jesus to untie my laces, and wash my feet, He unties me from the grime of this world, granting me a greater life–a greater inheritance than any natural inheritance.  Jesus offers me the new covenant inheritance of a shared life with Him.  I only need to offer Him my feet.

So I say yes, and place the soles of my feet in the Master’s hands and I receive the inheritance of life from Him whose shoe lace I am not worthy to untie.  And He washes the grime from between my toes with the watery grace that flows from His wounded side, bending low as one who has come not to be served, but to serve. 

* * * * * * * * *

I leave the story fully known—and yet still fully loved—by God.  Stunned into pure grace once again, I know that there’s nothing too dirty that He can’t make worthy.  

Grace & Peace,

Lois

 

Posted on by Lois Stephens

What do I do now?


Having recently hiked in the North Woods of Maine, I’ve come to an important realization.  Life often leads me just a few steps beyond my own mental reservations and self-imposed limitations.  So the question now remains… what do I do with this illuminating information?


I guess I’ll just jump. Take the proverbial leap of faith. What do I have to lose, really? Except my attitude, my opinion, my plans, my reputation, my ego … all in exchange for the discovery of TRUE LIFE.

“For if you choose self-sacrifice and lose your lives for my glory,
you will continually discover true life.
But if you choose to keep your lives for yourselves,
you will forfeit what you try to keep.”
~Jesus Christ