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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Posted on by Lois Stephens · 7 Comments

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

Posted on by Lois Stephens · 16 Comments

I Am Not Color Blind

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It’s been years now, but the memory-moment when I first saw her still runs deep.  Sitting cross-legged on the bed, with pink sponge curlers in her hair, she looks up as I enter our college dorm room.  Me, a middle-class white girl from the suburbs; she, a lower-class black girl born and raised in West Philadelphia.  Our eyes meet for a split second and then both our heads drop silent.

I grew up in white privilege; she grew up among the working poor.   We had a lot to discover about each other, and that we did.  A critical juncture; a defining year that gave me a new perspective beyond my own safe little world.

Amazing how God arranges life experiences to add in the missing pieces.  A divine appointment; a God set-up that added something needed, something of value, into the core of my identity.

My world got a whole lot bigger that year.  And I will be forever grateful to my West Philly roomie whom I grew to love, honor and respect.

Fast forward to last weekend…

We enter the retreat center where I am one of three invited speakers.  Seated beside the other speakers—all beautiful, strong and gifted African American women, I am feeling my “white-ness”.  I’ve heard these women speak before, with incredible power and passion.  They can raise the roof with their fiery-Pentecostal preaching.  An expectation to conform and perform begins to emerge from within me.

Conform and perform—I’ve done it before.  Not proud of it, but true.  Caved to my own internal pressure and took on another’s identity to be approved and accepted.  Yet in the process, I lost something invaluable—the gift of myself.

And then it hits me—my college roomie, this is the lesson we learned together.  I can honor and celebrate these African American women without pretending to be one of them.  By staying true to myself, I give room for others to stay true to themselves.

I quietly walk to the podium and begin sharing God’s love from my heart—in the way I do best, in the way I am designed.  People are moved by the gentle power of love—tears flow and healing comes.  I am a cool drink of water in the fiery heat of the day.  Different, yet the same.

I am not color blind.  God gave us color and the ability to distinguish between colors.  It’s a gift that I plan to celebrate more.  When we celebrate our differences by not pretending they do not exist, we celebrate the multi-faceted nature of God in whose image we all were created.  

Different, yet the same.  Hard to explain.  A divine mystery from the heart of God that I one day hope to understand better.

 

Posted on by Lois Stephens · 4 Comments

Ascending the Heights

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Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.*

Rugged hill challenges of life—they call me.  Mostly because I yearn for a change of scenery—a view from higher heights.  A spiritual lens upgrade.

No longer a slave to what I witness in the outward.  Breaking free from reality’s cruel grasp.  My thoughts take flight—into the high places of the sky.  Where tidal surges of hope rush upward and eternal.

Arise, my darling!
Come quickly, my beloved.
Come and be the graceful gazelle with me.
Come be like a dancing deer with me.
We will dance in the high place of the sky,
yes, on the mountains of fragrant spice.
Forever we shall be united as one!*

God’s thoughts are high.  His ways are high.  Residing far above my rugged-hill ways.  His thoughts are hidden among mountains of fragrant grace.  He beckons me to come & draws me with climbing cords of love.  (Really, it’s quite scandalous, this grace.)

And in the rarefied air of heavenly heights, my thoughts become fastened on all that is lovely; all that is honorable and admirable, beautiful and respectful, pure and holy, merciful and kind.

Writer-Poet Carl Sandburg’s words entice me:  “Here or there you may witness a startling harmony…where you say, “This will be haunting me a long time with a loveliness I hope to understand better.” 

When the day breaks and the shadows flee, I encounter a startling harmony within.  My beloved is altogether lovely.  A loveliness that has haunted me a very long time.  A loveliness that I hope to understand better.  A loveliness that renews and transforms.

≈

*Author’s Note:  Writing for me becomes a dialogue with the Spirit of God.  My heart’s response to scriptures whispering through my spirit.  This dialogue flows from Song of Songs 2:17 (NIV) and  8:14 (TPT) and Philippians 4:8.  May the dialogue continue within you.  Love and Peace.