Pressed between the simplicity of your call, “Come follow me,”
and the complex crush of my daily cross,
I am humbled to my knees.
Here, shaped by the gospel of Your foot
washing love
I can gently, patiently, fish for men.
Posts Tagged: karisa moore
I cradled hope like a fragile fledgling.
It shivered—tender
warmth against the concrete cold of
my anguish.
Hope is a wild, open-palmed expectation. Because
You are good, it will fly.
Arms outstretched in worship
to a song my soul sings.
On tiptoes, I expect to touch heaven.
And you bring heaven to dance with me. You
strum restless leaves and kiss my head
with the sunshine spotlight of your love.
Sing to me your delight as I move to the rhythm of
your salvation. Fear no longer hinders. I spin
and step out on the dancefloor of creation to glorify you.
You didn’t hold Christmas back from my troubles.
You slipped into my dirty world on a crowded
night of cares, with a star and angels as a birth
announcement.
Chubby fingers curled around my broken
heart before I knew I needed you. The earthy
the fragrance of shepherds, a stable, a carpenter,
and a young girl seems an unexpected
entrance for a king.
You lifted my tear-stained cheeks to
take in the wonder of Your presence.
My soul, crushed by a million fears,
found joy and peace in a tiny dependent baby—
God dependent upon a woman, the words
twist in my mouth as sacrilege. Yet you
upended my every flesh-tainted notion
of your holiness.
God with me, so that
I know that I know my sorrow
is not in vain.
A tangible God, for a flesh and bones sinner,
nestled in strips of cloth. I can hardly take
the majesty of your complete love.
Joy widens the eye dimmed by sorrow,
and reveals hope within the grain of a planed life.
Patiently packaged within pain
is the gift of possibility.
Unopened or opened—content remains the same.
My future is secure in the gift-giver.
Oh Lord, help me tear away the wrapping of fear, bitterness, and despair
and gasp in awe at your glory.
My passion—tangible hope secreted within the gift of suffering.
Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name; by the greatness of his might and because he is strong in power, not one is missing. (ESV).
Turning My Page
I couldn’t sleep last night, so at 2 am, I gave up. Having a lot of work to do today, I ran out to get my computer charger from the car but didn’t make it past my front steps. The sky greeted me with brilliant constellations. Suddenly the weariness washed away, and I was wide awake with the pleasure of God’s company. I put my arms out in worship. Thank you, Lord, for the stars that remind me you are near.
Turning Your Page
You won’t always be able to sleep. Depression, grief, troubles, pain, and an enemy that seeks to crush God-gifted rest can wreak havoc for weeks, months, and even years. But if you remain open to the God of possibility, prayers in the night for others struggling, reading of the Psalms and crying out like David, and noticing God’s goodness in creation are constant refreshments.
Lord, I am weary. I don’t even have words for how much I long for perfect rest. Help me to take hold of your goodness to me and on behalf of others in the night.
How do I turn the other cheek?
Do I glare down my enemy with
kindness? Slap them over the head with
generosity? Silence them with my devoutness?
Humiliate them with my humility?
The goal of forgiveness can’t be to glorify self.
“Look at me. I’m better than them.”
I know no other way to forgive than to
take up my cross and follow Jesus.
To train taut muscles ready
for revenge to submit to God’s will.
When I recognize that He sweated and bled
for both my enemy and I,
forgiveness becomes a gritty
part of who I am—a scream of 0bedience—not a selfish sacrifice
to force the other person to change.
Forgiveness has no return receipt.
Mmm, what is that sweet fragrance?
I am learning to crawl onto
the altar of trust,
daily,
and die to self.
Oh God, refine me.
In the flames of suffering,
nothing else matters but You.
Burn off all that hinders
until thoughts and actions renew.
And I remain
whole and pleasing to You.
Mmm, what is that sweet fragrance?
Worship.
Twisted by confusion and sin—
My body lay, crumbled, wearing rust
among the discarded and dispised things
of this world.
Worth. Purpose. What were those?
I was no longer useful.
Until you gathered my broken pieces
and welded my soul
into a reflection of your identity.
You gave me my wings of faith.
Now I soar with love, joy, and hope.
Free Gift
Embrace hope in dark places.
Get three free printables of hope and encouragement when you sign up for my monthly newsletter.
National Suicide Hotline
If you or a loved one are in immediate danger, call the National Suicide Lifeline at 988 or go to the website at https://988lifeline.org/