Stop. Look. Admire. Repeat. →

How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all. Psalm 104:24a (NIV)

I checked the time on my watch. Dad had been out on our deck for two hours. I’d been in and out several times, making sure he had coffee and was still comfortable. Again, I stepped out to the deck. “Hey, Dad, want to come back in now?”

“Look at the trees, honey. They are so tall,” he said with wonder in his voice. Then he seemed to hear my question and answered, “I’m fine right here, thank you.” And he was. He sat out on our deck hour after hour, coffee cup beside him, looking. Admiring. Marveling.

You see, for years the poor circulation in his legs had prevented him from being outside very often. He lived alone and stayed in the house or carefully limped to the car to get groceries or visit his sister and then came straight home again. His yard was too uneven for his unsteady legs. Then Dad moved in with us—and rediscovered nature, thanks to the deck.

He noticed soft breezes, birds, the pattern of leaves shifting in the shadows of the tall pine trees. He was mesmerized. He could not get enough of the beauty of it all. “The trees of the Lord are well watered, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. There the birds make their nests” (Psalm 104:16-17a).

When he and I drove to the ocean, the salt air, the seagulls, the waves all captured his eyes and he drank it all in. “There is the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number—living things both large and small” (Psalm 104: 25).

Anywhere we placed him outdoors in his wheelchair, he sat with delight. He had nowhere to go. No more duties to perform. So, he savored. He admired. He delighted in God’s creative wonders splashed across the canvas of sky and land and sea. “How many are your works, Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures” (Psalm 104:24).

Dad taught me to stop. Was I really in such a hurry I couldn’t sit with him and marvel at all the shades of green right in my own backyard? When was the last time I really looked at cloud formations and the sparkle of the sun rimming the edges of clouds with brightness? “The Lord wraps himself in light as with a garment; he stretches out the heavens like a tent” (Psalm 104:2).

I took my dog out one night and actually looked up and admired the night sky. “He made the moon to mark the seasons, and the sun knows when to go down” (Psalm 104:19).

Selah simply means to “stop or pause.” We don’t do this enough. We hurry and scurry to keep up with self-imposed schedules and the expectations of others—and we miss so much. In the midst of duties and deadlines, I am determined to carve out “sweet selah” times. I want to drink in the beauty of this world that shouts of its Creator. Thanks, Dad, for the lessons.

Heavenly Father, thank You for Psalm 104, filled with words of wonder at Your creation. Thank You for the way You communicate Your majesty and kindness through all You’ve made. Thank You for the gift of stopping, that fills me up so that I can give out in Your strength. “Lord, my God, you are very great; you are clothed with splendor and majesty” (Psalm 104:1b). I worship You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Post by Sharon Gamble of Sweet Selah Ministries

The Most Earthly Good

You've probably heard the phrase, "Don't be so heavenly minded that you're no earthly good."  The point being that as Christians, we don't want to be so focused on Heaven and being holy that we aren't of any help to those around us here on Earth.

Look through Colossians chapter three, and note verse two:

"Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth."

This chapter talks about being made new by Christ.  We no longer are in sin, but are made alive by Him.  Therefore, we are to set our minds on things above; focus on Him and becoming more like Him.  He is the one who molds us to be merciful, kind, humble, meek, longsuffering, bearing with each other, and forgiving; He makes us loving and gives us peace (3:12-15).  We put off our old self, the self that lived for sin and was far away from Him -- and put on the new self that He gives us through Christ's sacrifice.

Looking at that list in Colossians, all those characteristics of God that He gives to us as He shapes us, tell me:  How is that no earthly good?  Unless we are made more like Christ, we will be no earthly good!  Why?  Jesus is the one who saves.  Humanity bound by sin is not free in Christ.  We need Christ to live; salvation comes through Him and Him alone.  No person is without need of Christ -- not one.  If we are saved by Him and live as though being heavenly minded is no earthly good, we are deceiving ourselves.  As we learn about God, as we are shaped to be more like Him, we present testimonies to a world that is perishing.  We speak and act in ways that point back to Christ; people can look at us and see Christ.

One side of the phrase's argument has weight -- being so heavenly minded that we become 'holier than thou' and miss ministering to the people around us because we're so fixated on making ourselves the best we can be, since God requires perfection.  Guess what?  Perfection isn't up to us.  We can't do it.  That's what Christ is for.  His perfection is what we acquire and are covered by.  This isn't an excuse to continue in sin, but realize this:  Our earthly perfection is not a requirement for Christ to be seen in a life.  It's amidst sin that He comes and saves, and it's throughout a life that He refines and sharpens and shows His glory.

The truth is that focusing on Him and becoming more like Him brings much earthly good.  It's how people around us will see His power to change lives and heal, to break bonds and set free.

May we be so heavenly minded that we are the most earthly good!

Written by Amy Parsons.

Embracing Dependence

It's daunting, being a mother. I think back to the first night in the hospital, after the frightening and traumatic birth; the moment I realized just how much he needed me.

I can't remember what hour of the night it was. I was mid-much-needed sleep and he was across from the foot of my bed in the little bassinet.  My husband was on the other side of the room, sound asleep on the couch.  The newborn screams woke me instantly and I panicked -- I couldn't get to him.

My body couldn't move; every ounce of willpower doesn't move abs that have been cut open.  I could start to wiggle my toes but my legs certainly weren't going anywhere.  The anesthesia had yet to wear off.  I called for Josh.  He didn't budge.  I called louder.  Still nothing.  I yelled -- no movement.  After a few minutes of me trying to yell [and throw pillows] at my husband in between screams from my newborn, I let the tears loose and frantically searched for the button on my bed to call a nurse.  A nurse came, rolled the bassinet next to me, and helped me get my boy.

I can't say I remember anything else about that night, only that panicked scene and coming to the realization that my baby was fully dependent on me.  No one else was going to satisfy him.  No one else could satisfy him.  It was all on me.

That realization still hits me hard some days.  There are things his daddy can do too, and he needs Josh just as much as he needs me.  Yet there are things Josh simply can't do.

Some nights as I sit in the dark rocking my little one I think of the dependence he has on me and how sweet and special it is, how God saw fit to design moms and babies this way.  The baby grows inside and is nourished and strengthened by the mom - everything Mom takes in goes to Baby too.  This provision is carried on longer than nine months; after Baby is born, Mom still provides the food.  Baby is still dependent.  It's a weight, a big burden to carry.  A stress if I let it be.  And really, terrifying.  But how precious at the same time; how incredible and what an honor.

(Please note, I understand not every mama-baby duo (or trio, etc.) functions this way - and that's okay.  This is simply an illustration. ;))

This dependency is so strong and intense.  It's a daunting honor to be entrusted with the life and well-being of a little human.  To have what my baby needs when he needs it.  I sit and watch him and wonder how the rest of his life will play out -- if only I could always meet his needs so simply.

If only his cries could be satisfied with food or sleep; his diaper changed and body bathed and he'd be happy.  If his problems consisted of things I could diagnose and fix.  But it won't always be this way.  There will be situations I can't intrude on and problems I can't fix.  There will be ups and downs and times of happiness and of sadness.  His dependence will not always be on me, nor on his dad.

Little by little he'll grow and mature, taking on responsibilities and becoming more and more independent.  It's a good thing; it's supposed to happen this way.  Josh and I get to lead him and train him and let him go out from under our authority and guardianship.  We'll always be his supporters, encouragers, and advice-givers -- but the roles will change.

So for now, I want to embrace the dependence.  Even when the nights are long and my body is sore and tired.  The times I cry and wish someone else could just please do it for me.  The countless diapers, the painful screams, the demands I wish could wait five more minutes.  I want to embrace it all.

I want to be thankful that I get to be his mama, thankful that God equipped me to care for him even when I'm concerned I can't.  To recognize the beauty in the simple things and not take them for granted.  Each day with my little boy is a gift I want to be grateful for.  God provides for both of us without fail.  He gave us each other, and He's always faithful to sustain us.

*  *  *

"The mother-child relationship is paradoxical and, in a sense, tragic.  It requires the most intense love on the mother's side, yet this very love must help the child grow away from the mother, and to become fully independent."

-Erich Fromm

Written by Amy Parsons.

Known More Than Sparrows

We've moved six times over the last two and a half years, between apartments and condos and my parents' house.

Our first apartment was on the second floor, squished in the city with buildings and cars surrounding it.  There was a flock of sparrows that perched on the wires that ran from our building to the one next door; every day they'd settle there and talk, and I'd smile as they gave me a glimpse of nature.  We made that apartment a sweet little place, despite my discomfort being in a city.

Our first and second condos were nestled off of a main highway, with trees and grass out the front and back.  A bit more space, and removed from downtown.  To my delight there were countless birds that lived in our neighborhood, including the little brown sparrows.  It felt a bit more homey, and the sparrows loved to sit on our roof and tell us about their day.

And now, at the home we're settling into -- the sparrows frequent our backyard tree and the puddles in our driveway.  Still the same, talkative and carefree, just enjoying the moment.

Every single place we've gone, including the stays at my parents' in between, I've looked outside and seen the sparrows.  They make me smile every time; a sort of unexpected constant through all the change.

When I prayed for peace amidst the city life I wasn't fond of, God reminded me through the sparrows.  When we moved on to the next step, He reminded me through the sparrows.  And again here, He reminds me through the sparrows:

"Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin?  And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will.  But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows."

Matthew 10:29-31

God knows even the flights and ways of a sparrow; how much more does He know our days and lives?  How much more does He know us?

Moving has been of the changes in life that causes me the most stress.  I've learned bit by bit to be content with where I am, but I am by no means one who enjoys all the change.  I like to settle, to dig deep in where I am and know that I'll most likely be there for a good while.

So He reminds me over and over (He's so patient and consistent) that He cares, and that He provides for each step of the way.  And truly, He does.  He provides in the unknown and the known; He watches over me and knows what will happen in the future.  He goes before, and I've found such peace in that.

He is a good, good Father.