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Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Overwhelmed



“From the ends of the earth, I cry to you for help when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the towering rock of safety, for you are my safe refuge” (Psalm 61:2-3a, NLT).

My heart felt overwhelmed today, Lord. It was stretched beyond what I thought I could bear. The emotional pressure and stress would have been too much if it had not been for you. I cried out to you, Lord, and your Spirit prayed for my comfort and healing from within the depths of my own broken heart. My spirit clung to yours. I could feel your Spirit rising within me; I could feel your heart beating from within my own—calming and finally imparting peace to my battered soul. You are my place of safe refuge from all that comes against me. You are the rock of protection to which I cling. You are constant; you are true, and you never change. You are the healer of my wounded heart. My world may crumble—my loss might be great, but you are my strong and mighty tower of strength. You are my safe harbor in a sea that threatens to claim my last breath.  Come, Holy Spirit, and take the grief of this day, and make it part of the joy that will come tomorrow. I walk in your Spirit, and yearn to never leave. I breathe in your Spirit, Lord. I breathe in your hope and your promise. You are the heartbeat of my life. You constantly lead me into your presence again—and again—and again. You call to me until leaving your altar is something that no longer beckons—until all I desire is you carrying me through each moment of whatever my day presents. You have heard my heart’s cry from the ends of the earth, Lord, and from the bounty of heaven you have brought a peace of mind the world will never understand. You bring joy that cannot be described with mere words. You bring wholeness into my divided and torn life. No longer overwhelmed—no longer pressured with too much, I rest in you. 

  Lynn Hampton Lacher

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Red Sea Victory


“He gave a command to the Red Sea, and it dried up; he led his people across on dry land” (Psalm 106:9, GNT).

Each of us at some point will face a Red Sea. It will be something harder than we ever imagined. There will appear to be no way through or around it. It will appear that there is no answer. But just as the Lord parted the Red Sea for His people fleeing Egypt—just as He dried it up so they could move safely forward—just as He provided what was necessary at their most desperate moment, He parts the Red Sea and makes a path for His children now.

With the Red Sea in front of him and the Egyptians advancing from behind, Moses stood with the Israelites at the very edge of what appeared destruction. He had followed the Lord's guidance, and now there seemed to be no hope. There was no visible escape. There was nothing but his faith in the Lord who had brought them to this place.  Moses had promised God's people to lead them to freedom. The Red Sea rising ahead was not freedom; it was sure death. Yet Moses believed God would not fail in His promise. “'Do not be afraid,' Moses said. ‘Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still'” (Exodus 13:13-14, NIV).

After Moses had just told the Israelites to be still and see God’s deliverance, God then asked for something more. “The Lord said to Moses, 'Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on. Raise your staff and stretch out your hand over the sea to divide the water so that the Israelites can go through the sea on dry ground'” (Exodus 14:15-16, NIV). God told Moses to do more than stand still and wait! He told Moses to raise his staff to lead the Israelites forward into what appeared sure death. God would give them more than a way of escape. He would destroy what had driven them to this very place.

When faced with our Red Sea, we sometimes try to pull back. Perhaps we see it rising in the distance, and we turn from its imposing presence. But the army of life presses us closer, and we cannot turn back. Suddenly we stand at the edge. We believe that there is no way to go further, and there is obviously no retreat; we are paralyzed by our fear. To experience freedom, we must move into our Red Sea. When circumstances allow no retreat and we need God to part the waters, we must move forward into the unknown. That imposing Red Sea presents the greatest fear. But without facing the fear and moving right through it with God's help, we will never overcome what has driven us to the very edge of ourselves.

My Red Sea lies ahead. Circumstances press from behind. There is no escape. I can either allow it to paralyze me, or I can step forward in faith. I can either try to control what I cannot control, or I can release my fear to God. At the very edge of my Red Sea I make my decision. If I step into the unknown, I discover the power of God to strengthen and deliver me. Believing and trusting that the waters will part, I go forward through what otherwise might destroy me. In what appears destruction I experience His power to deliver and even change the circumstances which have driven me. In the depths of my fear I discover that in letting go I find Him. I find His peace, and the pure joy of victory.
  Lynn Hampton Lacher

Monday, September 26, 2016

Molded

“I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him” (Jeremiah 18:3-4).
You are the potter, Lord. I am just clay in your hands. You take my marred life and mold me. I am broken by your pressure. I am chiseled as stone. I become pliable when I choose to surrender to you. Molding me is your work. Mine is submission and willingness to change—to let go of what is not right in my heart and in my life. I know that your divine power has given me everything I need to grow spiritually and have a godly life—that I gain that through knowledge of you in your word, and through surrender to your will. You have given precious promises so I might have more of you, and less of my sinful self. I shall make every effort to add to my faith, goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. If these are growing in my life, you can use me for your best. This only happens with your power and my continual surrender. In the beginning it can be so disheartening, but as I stay surrendered to your will, I am changed by your purpose. My eyes are open. I see so much more that needs to be done in me. I shall continue on this journey and not let what lies ahead discourage me. I learn courage by surrendering my fear; I learn patience by surrendering my control, and I learn perseverance by surrendering my struggle. You are with me, and as this work takes place—through my surrender to your love and power—your qualities increase in my life. I am molded into a useful instrument in your hands. I am formed into whatever you deem best. It hurts to be molded. It hurts to let go of who I am for who you are. It hurts to give up selfishness and what I want. It hurts to let go of that control that has meant so much. But it is in letting go and letting you mold me that I discover your joy and purpose. I discover that what I thought was joy in my life is nothing compared to the joy I find in you. I discover that what I considered my purpose is nothing compared to the one you offer. Take my marred life, Lord, and place your hands upon my brokenness. Bring your pressure to bear just where it is needed. I am yours. Make me your own.
Lynn Hampton Lacher

Friday, September 23, 2016

Strength



I am tired this morning, and I want to retreat from what I know you wish for me. The words are blurred on this page, and I fight to stay awake after a night of little sleep. But you gently call me. I feel your nudge to rise to what you know I can do in your strength. I pray that my words and actions during this day would not hurt anyone. I pray never to be hard or cold to anyone you bring into my life. I pray to always be the shelter you have called me to be. Lord God, I pray for this day to be yours only. I pray to be guided only by your voice and never my own will. I pray to see the others you bring into my life as a gift to be cherished. May I always love with your love! May I always seek to understand who they really are, and recognize the need beyond their words! Help me to always see their potential in you, and yet not burden them before they can understand the wonder of it. Help me to always realize that your way is the best. If I follow you—if I surrender myself to you every day, I will understand the hope of your calling and the power of your resurrection. If I let go of my preconceived ideas about anyone, you can guide me, direct me, and teach me how you can use me in their life. So, Lord, I pray to inspire with your hope, and share your Word with your power, and love completely with your love. You are my strength for your purpose. 

  Lynn Hampton Lacher

Thursday, September 22, 2016

He Fights for Me



God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him. We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom, courageous in seastorm and earthquake before the rush and roar of oceans, the tremors that shift mountains. Jacob-wrestling God fights for us; God-of-Angel-Armies protects us” (Psalm 46:1-3, MSG).

My refuge. My place of safety. My anchor. My help in time of need. He is all this and so much more. What do I ever face that He can’t and won’t handle?  Because of Him I stand without fear before any battle. I stand courageous before the unknown of tomorrow and the unrest of today. No storm of life is able to shake my assurance in Him. My world may surge with circumstances beyond my control, but they are not beyond His. No shock in my life is too great to defeat my faith in His unchanging truth. The same God who Jacob wrestled also fights for me. I may feel the wound of my own failure, but I shall become stronger because of it. I am healed only because He was wounded for me. The God of the angelic host fight battles beyond my comprehension—those battle of which I know nothing. I have no need to know. I don’t face or fight whatever lies ahead. He fights for me. 

  Lynn Hampton Lacher

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Free


Sometimes, Lord, it seems the weight of the world rests on my shoulders. You have given me such responsibility, but often I don’t feel capable of handling your trust. I am lacking. I am overwhelmed. I am tired. I am pushed to the maximum. But in the midst of all this pressure, you call me to realize that your burden is not heavy. It is light. You carry what I am unable to carry on my own. You carried the weight of my sin to the cross, and because of your love I can know the freedom of your Spirit—structuring my days—empowering what you deem important—letting me know when something is not a priority or when it is. I can be free in you. The things that wait to be handled—both the real and perceived responsibilities—are in your control when I allow you to direct my days.

I trust you with all my heart—not just a portion of my heart, but with all of it. I surrender my understanding for yours. I seek your wisdom instead of my own. I look beyond my failures and weaknesses and realize you are my only strength. Fear is never my master. You are. I choose to delight in you, Lord. I choose to praise you in the storm. My sacrifice of praise is my gift to you. In my offering I discover that you have taken the weight of responsibility upon your shoulders. The things you have called me to handle are yours. If I allow you to guide and direct and choose what is important for each day, I am no longer overwhelmed. I am no longer lacking.

“Trust in the Lord and do what is good,” the psalmist writes. “Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you your heart’s desire. Commit everything to Him. Trust Him. He will help you. Be still in His presence, and wait patiently for Him to act” (Psalm 37:3-7). Lord, I will trust you.  Not just say it, but live it—breathe it. I will not carry the weight you never meant for me to carry. I will rejoice and delight in you. You are faithful, and you never fail me. You never change. You are constant and I can always rely on you.  I commit every decision and every responsibility to you. Your will always be done. You are my constant help in each time of need. I give you my tired heart, and I rest in your purpose. I wait for you. There is no rush. There is no struggle. There is no need to make something happen that perhaps you never intended. My will is no longer at war. It is free for you to make your own.

You carry my load. My spirit soars. I am free.

  Lynn Hampton Lacher

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Abiding



“Remain in me, and I will remain in you,” Jesus told the disciples the night before His crucifixion. “A branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me” (John 15:2, NLT). “In abiding,” Bruce Wilkinson writes in Secrets of the Vine, “you seek, long for, thirst for, wait for, see, know, love, hear and respond to a person.” Jesus Christ longs to have a deep intimate relationship with you—not just one that scratches the surface of your heart, but one that draws you daily into His presence. When your life is one of abiding He is your reason you seek truth. He is the hunger and thirst that is only satiated with His intimacy. You wait patiently for Him to move. You love with His love. You hear with His ears, and see with His eyes. You understand with His wisdom. You are in a relationship that changes the very core of who you are, and drives your life into utter fulfillment.

Jesus is the vine, and you are the branch (John 15). Your life remains vital and alive as long as you stay connected to the source of your spiritual life. If you don't, you dry up and wither away.  “Think about the meeting place of vine and branch,” Wilkerson writes. “Why would Jesus give us a picture of a living thing whose life forcethe sapis mysteriously out of sight?  One reason could be that, in abiding, what happens on the surface doesn't count; what's happening inside does.”  Surrender to His will, and something amazing happens inside your heart and mind. That yielding of self creates a connection that brings His power and purpose. Nothing can keep you from the powerful spiritual life-changing force to be found in surrender when you desire His will instead of your own. In inward surrender of self, the outward “you” changes. When your life reveals the change in your heart, the outward result is His power flowing freely and unrestrictedly through you.

Have you surrendered to the living-changing force of His will or does the heart sacrifice He calls for asks too much of you? Do you remain in His presence allowing Him to shape and mold your inner man? Do you seek His truth and purpose? Thirst for His living water? Wait for His guidance and answer? See with His eyes instead of what you see with your own? Hear with His ears instead of what your own receive? Understand with His spiritual mind instead of what your human mind perceives? God disciplines sin and prunes self so that not only your life will be transformed, but so others will be impacted by the change He has wrought in your life.  When the life-blood of Jesus flows into your surrendered life, you are filled with the heart-beat of His purpose. When your heart beats for Him the change that has happened inwardly flows outwardly to others who also await His purpose and promise. So does your life bear fruit? Do you continually surrender your will and remain connected to the life-giving flow of His grace? Your life ultimately reflects what is true within your own heart. 

   Lynn Hampton Lacher

    

Monday, September 19, 2016

Open



There are no words this morning to express the pain of loss that I face each day. No one likes to face pain, Lord. When I live through suffering, my natural instinct is to bury the pain as deep as I can. But that is not your plan for me. What may be my natural instinct is not yours. You never waste my hurt or what I face, and you do not want me to just bury it. You long for me to use the pain I experience—the things that I regret—the highs and the lows—the fears and the failures—the very things I want to hide from—for the benefit of others. You want my life open so others might find freedom from their own pain, and I might discover healing for mine.

Sometimes I want to build a wall to protect myself from my own pain. But building a wall doesn't protect me. It imprisons my heart. It imprisons my spirit. It imprisons healing of not only my own wounds, but those of others. My wall turns my heart into a heart of stone because, in closing myself off, I have shut you out, Lord. But when I allow that wall of false protection to tumble down, you turn my pain into victory not only for myself, but for others. “I'll give you a new heart,” you promise, “and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 36:26).

When my heart yields completely to you, Holy Spirit, it becomes one of tender spiritual flesh. It is a heart that is malleable, vulnerable, and not afraid of the pain that often accompanies healing. It is heart that is ready to face the hurt of the past or the present head-on, and allow you freedom to do whatever is necessary. Willing to deal with whatever must be dealt with, this heart trusts that if you have exposed pain, you are more that capable of handling all that has caused it.

This is where I want my heart this morning. This is what I know you wish for my life—to be real, vulnerable, and willing. Make me your instrument of healing, Lord. I open my heart to experience your freedom. I open my life trusting you will heal, move, and use me just as you desire.

Lynn Hampton Lacher

Friday, September 16, 2016

I Come



“Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, NLT).


I come to you, Lord, stripped of any pretense. I come abandoned. I come vulnerable. I come deserted. I come barren. I come forsaken. I come fearful. I come overwhelmed. I come anxious. I come rejected. I come hopeless. I come so that I might find respite from all the turmoil of my life in your presence. I come with nothing to offer but my brokenness. It is when I come broken of all that I have attempted to hold in place that I find you waiting.


Lord, you accept and love me in my weakness and feebleness. I can be who I am with you. There is just you and just me. There is no image I have to keep. There is no mask I have to hold in place. There is no agenda that has to be met. There is no perfection that I need to maintain. You see beyond all my limitations, and you love me still. You always see my potential, and never my failures. You know what you have created me to be, and that is never something that I have to struggle to receive. I am a new creature in you because of who you are—not because of who I am. You love me with an everlasting love, and that is beyond my human ability to understand.


When I open my heart, mind, spirit—my soul to you, I receive your freedom to believe in the potential you see in my life. In your amazing love, I discover who you have always meant for me to be. I am set free from my limited human understanding, and filled to overflowing with the freedom that you bring into my life. I am no longer in bondage to my human failures. I am free in your promise.


I rise from my time with you accepted. I am no longer deserted or abandoned. I am not forsaken or rejected. I rise from my time with you free of the fear which has tormented me. What has overwhelmed is now seen from your perspective. You have taken my anxious thoughts from me at your altar, and now I am at rest. I am broken of self, and restored in your power. I rise from my knees again—revived and renewed. I know my hope is always in you, Lord, and it shall always be. I shall see you again in just a little while, Lord, because without my time with you, I am lost in my own weakness. So I come.

  Lynn Hampton Lacher


Thursday, September 15, 2016

Delight in Him



“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires” (Psalm 37:4, NLT).

Is it hard for you to delight in the Lord—to experience His joy? “Delight in the Lord,” the psalmist declared, “and He will give you your heart’s desire!” Do you realize that God delights in you (Psalm 149:4)?  Perhaps you feel abandoned. Others might abandon you, but God will never forsake you. If you are someone who believes God doesn’t listen or answer your cry for help, then you need to absorb the truth that He delights in you. He takes joy in you. He delights in you because you are His creation, and He died for you. That is the greatest love. That kind of love does not abandon. But we sometimes abandon that love by our thoughts and actions. Often we judge His love for us through the eyes of our own sin or through the pain of our own circumstance.

You cannot experience the delight of the Lord if you have something in your life that is blocking it. Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal anything that you have in your life that needs to be forgiven. Ask Him to reveal not only what you may have done, but the real motive of your heart. Only listen to the conviction of the Holy Spirit, and never listen to the enemy who will condemn you. There is always hope in Christ's conviction, but only despair in the lying condemnation of the enemy. Allow Christ's conviction to change your heart, and humble yourself in His presence. “In my distress I prayed to the Lord,” the psalmist wrote, “and the Lord answered me and set me free:” (Psalm 118:5, NLT). When you allow Him to change your heart, He will lift you from the darkest despair and set you free from sin’s power to control your life.

You cannot experience the delight of the Lord if some event or problem is so powerful that it keeps you from experiencing God's love and peace. You don't feel loved if you feel God has abandoned you. That very feeling of abandonment can bring anger and bitterness toward God, and then anger toward yourself for being angry at Him. Tell God you are sorry for your anger toward him, and forgive yourself for your anger toward you. Life happens. Events happen. Problems come. Trials are inevitable. God has not abandoned you. His power is greater in your life than that of any event. To learn His lesson and grow in His grace, humble yourself and yield control to Him.

“The Lord delights in his people,” the psalmist wrote. “He crowns the humble with victory” (Psalm 149:4, NLT). Humbly lay your life at His feet. Draw close to Him in prayer and purpose. When you humble yourself before the Lord and give up anything in your life that blocks His presence, you invite His power into your life. When you allow the trials of life to spiritually grow you into His beautiful creation, you invite His victory. Instead of defeating you, those trials inspire you to trust Him more. “Humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor” (1 Peter 5:7, NLT). His power is best understood in humility. When He completely owns your heart, pride has no power. In letting go you have given Him permission to empower your life. The desires of your heart are no longer your own. They are His.  You have found your delight in Him.

 Lynn Hampton Lacher


Ears to Hear

In Mark 4, Jesus shared three parables illustrating that the Word relates to the kingdom of God as a natural seed does to a harvest. The fir...