Great Delight

I love this picture of me and Oliver.  He was four months old, and making me laugh by nuzzling his sweet little face into my cheek.  I love the intimacy that the photo shows, the unspoken communication of love and sweetness, the delight. 

I came across a verse from Zephaniah, of all books, the other day (3:17):

"The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save.  He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing."

I read this and thought about our sweetest moments together, me and my son: when Oliver quiets when I sing to him.  The little hand that goes pat-pat, pat-pat on my back when I rock him to sleep.  The unreplicated feeling of his sweet little breath into my neck, the weight of his head on my shoulder.  That intimacy, that trust.

And this is one little slice of how God feels about us.  He quiets us with his love when we are restless. Hold us close.  He delights in us, greatly, and rejoices over us with singing, just as I sing to my little boy. 

Lord, Abba, thank you for being my Father.  Teach me to come to you for rest, to seek quiet, to be still.  Remind me to rest my weary head on Your shoulder, to know Your closeness and remember your delight for me.  Thank you for loving me as Your child.  Amen. 

The Strength of My Heart

The Pastor of our new church called me about a week ago, the night before my pacemaker replacement surgery.  He called to talk, offer peace, and to pray.  Just before his phone call, I was beginning to realize that despite going through this so many times before, or maybe even because of going through this so many times before, I was getting anxious.  Pastor Bob then spoke the words of Psalm 73 (verse 26):

"My flesh and my heart will fail; 

But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

I smiled.  The first time I ran across that verse, I knew it was to be one of my life verses.  My flesh and heart will fail. Not might, will. For me, they already have.  And everyone's will.  But God is my strength, for forever. 

I hate anesthesia.  "Going under" is just about the worst feeling I have ever experienced. I simply cannot tolerate the feeling of my head being altered.  So I have leared to repeat a prayer or a verse as I begin to slip away into that terrifying state; and Psalm 73 is what I repeated when I lay there, scared out of my wits. I got confused.  I felt like I wasn't in my body.  I think I stopped breathing.  I was in a horrific place.  The nitrous oxide made me lose control of my body, my awareness, and the ordering of my thoughts.  But I hung on to that verse, and those words stayed in order, calming my heart.

 God's words stayed strong and clear when everything else wasn't. 

 They always will.