Foot-long Leadership

I’m crossing the threshold of 2024 in reverence for the holy ground of one foot. Let me explain. 

I usually want the Lord to lead me in mile-long strides, reaching goals far off on the horizon in a single jump. When I look for Him to work on that scale, though, it can start to feel like God isn’t active in my life or answering prayer at all. That’s because I’ve overlooked His direction that most often comes in foot-long increments. Although He is completely capable of guiding us in leaps and bounds, the believer’s life is described as walking with God -  miles, divided into feet. 

With a shoe size of 9.5, my walking shoes measure around one foot long.  Yes, that’s the larger end of women’s shoes, but, in terms of walking, a 12-inch step is really not a lot of ground covered.  Yet following one after the next, they will eventually add up to one mile.  One after the next, there is progress.

And God’s leadership is like that. He can do exceedingly more than we ask or think, but He so often does it by dividing a mile into 5,280 feet. He takes us by the hand, and He sets a pace we can match, if we just put one foot in front of the other along with Him.  Twelve inches of faith. One foot of prayer. Twelve inches of goals. One foot of guidance.

Whatever your resolutions, may you anticipate and experience the holy ground of God’s foot-long leadership as you step into the New Year.

Days of feasting & gladness

They weren’t expecting an average day where the highs barely peak and the lows barely break below the surface; they expected to be slaughtered. 

But the most unlikely opposite occurred, and the Jewish people were exuberant! To celebrate, Mordecai and Esther established a yearly holiday for their nation called Purim (find details about it in Esther chapter 9). It was to be a time filled with tasty food, gift-giving, and joy, because their worst nightmare was surprisingly averted, completely contrary to the outcome they had imagined.  

Looking ahead to our own holiday season - a time of tasty food, gift-giving, and joy - I’m setting my heart to celebrate Christmas as a shocking reversal of expectations. Humanity’s worst nightmare was averted through the most unlikely beginning: 

The eternal Son of God became a human embryo. 

A barn became a royal birthplace. 

A virgin became a mother. 

Dirty shepherds became the first witnesses of the King. 

Jesus would live a life of expectations turned on their heads, and this pattern of reversal would continue into His death and culminate in His resurrection. It’s because of Him that we, who were doomed to everlasting death, can instead experience eternal life. Could we ever imagine anything like this outcome?

During Advent, let’s remember Purim: There is no reversal we’ve been longing for that’s too drastic for our God; in fact, it seems He’s attracted to doing the opposite of what we’d naturally expect. 

May your celebration of Christ prompt days of feasting and gladness this season! I’ll be signing off until after the New Year, but I’ll be back in 2024:)

Esther, a poem

An opulent setting 

stuns the senses 

to imagine it, 

but characters emerging 

repulse my thoughts 

of stepping foot in it: 

Castrated servants 

at every beck and call, 

Drunken officials 

declaring new laws, 

Kidnapped virgins 

perfecting their flaws,

Rejected concubines 

with no hope at all.

An orphan crowned queen

stays silent

to preserve herself,

but the course of history

begs the courage

to deny herself:

One single enemy

threatening her nation,

Death by decree

sealing his ambition,

Her only family

calling her to action,

A dose of reality

leveraging her station.

An overthrown scheme

seems sufficient

to applaud her,

But reversal in Purim

uncovers someone

who is greater:

God, Elohim,

from beginning to end.

Yahweh, I am,

holding fast the covenant.

Almighty, Shaddai,

giving shelter in the wind. 

El Yon, Most High,

reigning even when unnamed.

The Creator is here

I never understood the reassurance of nature until I lived in a place without much of it.  I didn’t realize how vaguely, yet steadily, all of creation whispers like a consoling background melody carried by the wind. But there are certain aspects of nature that shout, rather than sing, God’s name. 

Yesterday we returned from visiting Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. Between the geological wonders of Yellowstone and the snow-capped peaks of the Tetons, I heard one proclamation as I stared in awe: The Creator is here.  

But can we hear that post-vacation, wherever we call home?

Home for my first 18 years of life was in the Adirondack Park, a six-million acre region of lakes and Pines and mountains in upstate NY. To this day, the remote town in which I was raised greets the passerby and native resident with its claim to fame proudly etched in its welcome sign: “Home of the 1964 national Christmas tree”. We’re known for our trees - or at least one of them, long ago.

I wasn’t someone who hiked the high peaks, portaged along rivers, or camped off the grid, so when I moved to a city of concrete high rises and asphalt streets, the absence of nature wasn’t a concern.    

Until it was. 

Gone were the landscape views I took for granted, and in their place, engineered structures and pavement. The question I dared not ask, plagued me when I walked the streets: Is God less present in this place?  At first, I wasn’t sure why I wondered such a thing. But then I found myself religiously catching the sunrise from our fifth story apartment, just to hear it speak. I craved nature, not solely for its beauty, but for its signature message, The Creator is here.

Scripture writers are not subtle when they point to creation as being descriptive of God, and they paint the most vivid imagery of Him through vast, expansive elements, such as mountains, seas, and sky. Mountains, dominating and immovable, melt like wax when the Creator reaches down to touch them. Seas, deep and unsearchable, are restrained by His hand to be contained when they surge. The sky, distant yet visible, He stretched out to declare His immeasurable character.

You might feel like the Creator is not where you are, surrounded by conifers or concrete, deserts or suburbs. You may be a thousand miles from the ocean or about that far from mountains, but one vast element of creation reaches where others do not and cannot be eliminated by man-made structures. 

Start looking up. The sky is speaking. For more, see Psalm 19.

What’s happening?

“...but the city of Susa was thrown into confusion.” Esther 3:15

Considering the latest reports of global antisemitic outrage, it’s not difficult to imagine the chaos that erupted back in Esther’s day. I wonder if the Persian edict of pending Jewish annihilation prompted hateful rioting ahead of time? Was anything from racism to violence against the Jews justifiable in the meantime since King Ahasuerus had already set a date that sealed their fates? Could neighbors who were once tolerant be trusted? Was it best to fight or flee? 

If faithful Jews were among those living in Susa, I picture them turning to the book of Psalms to guide their thoughts, emotions, and faith through the looming disaster. Perhaps they landed in Psalm 77. Although you may not find yourself oppressed and threatened by terror as they were - and as the Jews are today - it doesn’t take physical war to throw us into confusion.  Maybe you can relate to Asaph’s state of mind in Psalm 77:

(v.1-6) He’s crying, seeking, distressed, prayerful, inconsolable, groaning, faint-hearted, speechless, sleepless, troubled, rejected, questioning, and longing.

His gut-wrenching anxieties about God are relatable when our world, internationally or personally, turns upside-down. If we draw conclusions based on confusing circumstances, those conclusions will also be upside-down:

(v.7) Is the Lord’s rejection eternal? He’s defined by rejection; it’s what he’s done all along. 

Is His grace historical? He used to be gracious, but those days are over.

(v.8) Is His love invisible? Since I can’t see His love right now, it can’t be real.

Is His Word unreliable? What he promises isn’t strong enough to be guaranteed.

(v.9) Is his care forgetful? He must have lost track of humanity, or at least of me.

Is his intention spiteful? He’s mad at me, and, as a punishment, He withholds help.

As if Asaph has vomited up his perspective and emptied his heart of poison, the Psalm takes a turn at its mid-point:

(v.10-20) Asaph decides to remember, ponder, and meditate on God’s past activity, miraculous intervention, mighty deeds, holy ways, greatness, rescue, control over natural forces, invisible presence, and shepherding guidance. 

When we ask, “What’s happening?!”, we look back so that we can keep looking forward. 

“God led His people like a flock, by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” Psalm 77:20