Awakening to Advent

November fog invades my brain, stealing away brightness, coating all in its dreary gloom.

Seasons affect us more than we know. Each one leaves a footprint of their presence.

This season? My soul needs quiet, my body craves sleep and rest, my spirit thirsts after the place where I converse with God, on the doorstep of my heart.

I'm seeking after sacred pauses, making way for holy moments in the everyday.

As my health has declined over the last few months, I've needed to withdraw quite a bit from social media interaction, groups and conversations, and I've also missed the quiet times and places where my soul speaks with God.

Although it's what I've needed more than anything, it's also been a casualty of the storms of life.

'Quiet Time' ceased to be such as my fog-brained, pain-filled body yearned for sleep, became preoccupied and anxious; and praying was reduced to quick-fire cries for help.

These needs cannot be ignored. We pine and die inside without letting the Light in. Because a weary mind and body need His strength to go on, don't they?

There's a shift beneath the surface of my slow, sluggish days. A stirring toward all my soul desires to stay sane, stable and at rest.

An acknowledgement that I am lost and lonely when I fail to spend quality time with God.

I want to awaken to Advent without the world's noise intruding strong, resist its clamouring tongue and clarion call to excess consumption.

And as I try to still my heart, listen to the One whom my soul loves and runs after, I sense Him whispering these words:

"Be aware; be watchful; be prepared. The King is coming. He is with you.

Keep your eyes peeled and your heart receptive. Don't let it grow hard or cold.

 Allow a Holy longing to touch mystery seep slow into your soul and invade mind and spirit.

A new morn dawns in the history of mankind. 

A new day to rejoice and be glad, for your God is with you and He is mighty to save. 

A reason for humble thanksgiving.

Come closer. Come empty. Come freely. Come frequently. I will fill you to overflowing.

My throne room is always open to you and you will find a warm welcome here.

Spend your precious energy in seeking Me. I will refuel you.

Lavish attention on My glorious provision. I will give you all your soul longs for.

Whisper it loud. Joy is here for all to share. There are no beggars in My Kingdom.

This sacred place makes space for all who hunger and thirst for Me.

And in this season, all who seek Me with their whole heart will find Me.

There will be celebration over every soul who makes way for the King to live within.

Share your words; share your heart; share the promises fulfilled in Jesus, My Son.

Your watching, waiting and praying will have their reward.

As your heart makes room for the King of kings, it will be filled and flooded with the love, joy and peace of His presence.

Reflect on these things anew; rest in My goodness and grace, and remain in Me always"

How can we awaken anew to the watching, waiting wonder of Advent?

As well as revisiting the biblical narrative (and maybe listening to a few Christmas songs to get me in the mood!), here are some of the things I have at hand to help me in this season:

1) Re-reading 'Touching Wonder:Recapturing the Awe of Christmas' by John Blase ~ a delightful, warm way of connecting to the humanity of Advent and the Nativity via insightful words, reflection and prayer. 

2) Reading 'The Deep Place - where nobody goes:Connecting with God on the steps of my soul' by Jill Briscoe ~ and rediscovering the wonder and encouragement of being able to have a relationship and conversations with God.

3) Diving into 'Advent with St Francis:Daily Reflections' by Diane M.Houdek in an attempt to recover rest, simplicity and respect for the mystery of it all. 

4) Seeking more spiritual whitespace by returning to the insights in, 'Finding Spiritual Whitespace:Awakening Your Soul to Rest' by Bonnie Gray and making room for resting in God as part of needful self-soul-care. 

5) Savouring 'A Faraway Smell of Lemon - A Christmas Short Story' by Rachel Joyce (author of 'The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry) as a way to rediscover the human pangs and joys of Christmas.  

As you can see, an awful lot of reading and contemplation could be going on as I dip in and out of these books! Maybe my desires will crash under the weight of them. Time will tell..

How about you? Are you entering Advent with anticipation or grim determination?

Feel free to share what helps (or hinders) your faith-walk in this busy season. I love to hear from you. 

I'm linking here today with Janis for Sunday Stillness and with Charlotte for Spiritual Sundays. You are warmly invited to join us. 

When everything gets shaken, hold on to this

There's a whole lot of shaking going on right now.

And it's afflicting the whole family. 

We are trying to roll with the punches as they come at us from all directions.

Everything feels topsy-turvy, upside-down and back-to-front. 

All we held dear, depended on, kept close is now drifting off into the distance and we grasp at straws, clutch at air and come up empty-handed. Ache for familiar. Long for lasting. Mourn 'normal'.

Careers, family, health, jobs, routine, stability, calm are all casualties of this storm.

Like a scared child we seek shelter, a rock to cling to.

Prayer become a desperate plea for help, other words fail us.

Battered, bruised and battle-weary, we sink to our knees. Hope still lifted banner-high. Because the One we hope in is ever-faithful.

When earth shifts like sand beneath your feet and menacing mountains loom over you, where is shelter and safety to be found?

Where it always is and always has been... in our Saviour's arms. Safely sheltered by the Rock of Ages.

Here, we can let down our guard and finally relax. He is ever-vigilant on our behalf. Has already fought every battle for us.

Arms wrap tender and gentle our fretful hearts. He whispers close. I AM here. I AM able. I AM your safe place. Always.

The world mocks us with its promises. They fall like petals to ground. Nothing of substance to be found.

Only Jesus is Truth, is substance, hope, help and promises kept.

Truth be told, all looks scary in the eye of the storm but it's the place where He meets with us most. In the teeth of trouble and trials. In the midst of mayhem and mess.

Things may not calm around us in an instant but we are given grace to slowly become calm, breathe easy, experience the blessed peace that passes human understanding.

We gain courage from seeing tiny chinks of light appearing in the gathering gloom. Grace glimmers from afar.

And we get brave enough to kick sand from our wilderness shoes and press on for one more step.. and the next... and so on.

Because every battering from the enemy brings us one day closer to final victory ~ already secured in Christ ~ becoming a living reality.

We may be choking on sand, drowning with waves over our heads, bent over from burdens that cripple and maim our frames, but we're only downtrodden for a season, not defeated for ever.

Hope will rise strong again. Grace lifts our eyes to the hills from where our help comes from.

When everything that can be shaken feels like it's happening to us, we can be encouraged by remembering:

"Do you see what we've got? An unshakable kingdom! And do you see how thankful we must be? Not only thankful, but brimming with worship" ~ Hebrews 12:28 (The Message) 

Friend, I don't know your personal circumstances, struggles or pain, but I wouldn't mind betting that you've seen your fair share of storms and may be in the midst of one right now, yes?

My lengthy travels on the road of faith have convinced me about the best Who we should take our troubles to. 

Meanwhile, let us also support and encourage one another on the journey, press on with perseverance, look to His word, take hold of those wonderful, unshakable promises and wait for their final fulfilment to come.

I'm linking here today to share encouragement with Janis for Sunday Stillness and with Charlotte for Spiritual Sundays.

Echoes of eternity

It's strange what triggers the memory.

Sights, sounds and scents combine to transport us back in time.

Years melt away and we are reliving heady days of youth, or revisiting childhood.

It doesn't take much to make us feel we are young again, maybe remembering our parents' influence.

I remember my mother most in terms of how she displayed and conveyed the essence of womanhood to me; a message I saw and absorbed unconsciously.

Alongside her inevitable scent of 'Tweed' perfume, there was a fragrance of femininity, odour of powder and paint to make a body and face more appealing.

There was a lingering trace on tissues ~ a smudged smile hovering like a ghostly presence ~ and a red wet lipsticked kiss staining my cheeks or clothing as poignant reminders of her presence.

I watched with fascination as she applied the swivel stick to her pouting lips, and I mirrored her action with the wetted end of a red Smartie, a dab from rose petals, crayon or felt-tip pen long before I was able to try the art for myself.

Here lay feminine mystique, grooming, making-up, a grown-up rite of passage I was yet to traverse.

I longed to join in with the rituals of womanhood even as my child body and mind refused to accept that I was already a reluctant participant in certain grown-up mystery and ways.

Adults left impressions on me that couldn't be wiped away. I have grown up wanting to scrub them out of existence, but they stay deep within the recesses of my mind.

Dark inky stains would remain from shadows of the past, mingled with a scarlet blush of assumed guilt and shame.

I'm a work in progress as I heal from the past, drawing strength from God each day, drinking deep from the river of His mercy, love, grace and forgiveness so that I can share it with other hurting, wounded souls.

I've crept invisible from being noticed, seen and paid attention to. Hid in corners. 

Desiring nothing more than to be left alone, left to my own devices and dreams.

But there's also an innate desire in us to be safe, secure, to be loved. And love means escaping our comfort zones, becoming available, open and vulnerable.

Then we find ourselves getting assessed, found wanting and rejected by some in order to be found by those who really matter.

How hard it feels at times to make an impression on others. To leave an imprint of our existence.

We want something lasting and tangible to show for just being here. Existing. Living.

We seek to make a mark, stir the air, sink our feet into the sands of time and leave lingering footprints behind, or maybe a monument or two.

Most of us feel like we're creating castles in the air that crumble into dust and ashes. Hopes and dreams, plans and schemes so often come to nought.

Yet I still hold out hope that I can leave a lasting impression to reveal God's hand at work in my life.

There will be signs of my sighing out. 

Breath patterning the air with poetry. 

Laced layers of grace seeping from my broken life and ways.

My story woven from strands of sickness and despair.

My life wrapped up in prose. Poured out to water other thirsty souls.

Painting beauty with ashes. Hope from helplessness.

Suffering redeemed by our Saviour. 

Hopefully, the best parts of me will be the family I leave behind, the legacy of a life lived for God, His story bleeding out through my history.

Immortality imprinting itself upon the present. 

Echoes of eternity in the here and now.

This isn't about striving hard to chalk up outward achievement; it's about having a resting faith, trust and expectation that God will make Something out of the detritus of our wounded, broken lives.

No matter what our external circumstances may be, or what inheritance our fathers and mothers left us with for good or ill, we can aim to leave a legacy of God's goodness and grace, a lasting impression of how one small life surrendered to Him can become a thing of eternal beauty in His tender loving care.

Linking here with Nacole for #concretewords. This week's prompt is:'lipstick' 
and with Charlotte for #spiritualsundays

The road less travelled

Each journey we take in life begins with a single step.

Yet so often the first move is the hardest one to make.

The greater the challenge before us, the greater the measure of courage required. 

Faith requires us to walk blind sometimes, but we have the reassurance of God's continual Presence to lead and to guide. 

And when we're on the King of Kings' highway we are in a good place to proceed with confidence. 

'Highway'

An open road yawns wide before me

and I have a choice to make ~ hesitate,

deliberate, ignore, turn back, or face

the path ahead with anticipation

instead of mounting dread

Decide to take a stand,

move forward ~ trembling, slow,

though with a firm grip on Your hand

For only You know opportunities

arising round the bend

Only You know what happens

if I reject the path you send

So I choose to listen to Your voice

taking one step, then another,

until I can rejoice in overcoming

fears, as I finally make progress

after all these years rooted to the spot

like one petrified, half dead,

when I could have been pursuing

dreams with You instead

Although I cannot see the potholes and 

pitfalls on this path, I trust that You 

will clear the way on my behalf

And now I stand ready to make a start

knowing each step brings me

closer to Your heart

©JoyLenton2014

"Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are my God, my Saviour, and my hope is in you all day long." ~ Psalm 25:4-5

Linking here with Charlotte at Spiritual Sundays




**NOTE** The winner (chosen at random from those who commented on my last post) of a copy of 'One Thousand Gifts' by Ann Voskamp is ~ Rebekah Gilbert. Congratulations, Rebekah! A copy will be winging its way to you asap.