Yesterday I mowed my lawn. I even broke a small sweat. It's mid December. How weird.

I LOVE warm weather.

As for most everyone, life is busy and crazy this wonderful time of year. There are so many festivities and projects and things to accomplish. Hence the lack of posting. But God is still on my mind and I love thinking of Him each day and reminding myself what truly matters. Here are some of my thoughts.

God is Light.

 I have never liked the dark. I remember once hiking in a cave and the guide shutting of the power once we were at the deepest point... it was pitch black. Blacker than any black I have ever experienced. I held my hand in front of my face and couldn't see it. It was absolutely creepy. I couldn't help but think of the scriptures that share what it was like at the time of Christ's death. 3 days of darkness. Complete darkness. What a perfect symbol. Then looking back at His birth, the sign of the star. The Light of this world had been born. Another perfect symbol. Christ truly is our Light. Not only physically and mortally did he shine the way, but spiritually and emotionally He shines into the dark corners of our hearts and minds and lights the path of all who follow Him. He is the way, the truth and the light. (John 14:6)

God is Power. 

Lightning and thunder always bring a reminder that I am just so small. 

As I sat in my driveway and watched the light streak across the sky and the thunder rumble through the air, fear of being so small crept into my thoughts. There are storms that take lives, damage homes and cities and leave people hopeless and alone. Then there are storms of hate and anger, sickness and death, loneliness and fear, sin and temptation, instability and loss, broken homes and broken hearts. There are storms raging all throughout the world. But God is above it all. He is the Creator of this earth and all the elements are under His care. Whatever storms may rage, He has the power to calm.

God is Peace.

A lot of people I love have been facing a lot of things. Sometimes I wish I could just grab all their problems and throw them out the door. Sometimes I wish we didn't need to experience trials and pain. And though I know it's for our own good...I sure don't like seeing people I love hurt. But I am grateful for a God who offers peace to all. He came into this world to bring us peace. A peace that only He can give and a peace that covers all. All pain, all sorrow, all heartache, all sin.

God is Forgiveness.

I once heard a story that changed my life. I have always known that God is forgiving and as I follow Him He will forgive my sins. But the longer I live the more I want to become like Him. The more I want to be forgiving. I think forgiving is one of the hardest things to do. Not just saying sorry or that it's okay, but actually forgiving. Letting go. Not holding against. Not hurting or taking offense to what someone has done. God is the only way we can achieve this. He can change our hearts. He can help us let go. He can help us forgive.

The Story that changed my life:
excerpted from “I’m Still Learning to Forgive” by Corrie ten Boom.

“It was in a church in Munich that I saw him—a balding, heavyset man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken, moving along the rows of wooden chairs to the door at the rear. It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives.

“It was the truth they needed most to hear in that bitter, bombed-out land, and I gave them my favorite mental picture. Maybe because the sea is never far from a Hollander’s mind, I liked to think that that’s where forgiven sins were thrown. ‘When we confess our sins,’ I said, ‘God casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever. …’

“The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. There were never questions after a talk in Germany in 1947. People stood up in silence, in silence collected their wraps, in silence left the room.

“And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a visored cap with its skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights; the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor; the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were!

[Betsie and I had been arrested for concealing Jews in our home during the Nazi occupation of Holland; this man had been a guard at Ravensbruck concentration camp where we were sent.]

“Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: ‘A fine message, Fräulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!’

“And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women?

“But I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze.

“‘You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk,’ he was saying, ‘I was a guard there.’ No, he did not remember me.

“‘But since that time,’ he went on, ‘I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fräulein,’ again the hand came out—’will you forgive me?’

“And I stood there—I whose sins had again and again to be forgiven—and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place—could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?

“It could not have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.

“For I had to do it—I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. ‘If you do not forgive men their trespasses,’ Jesus says, ‘neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses.’

“I knew it not only as a commandment of God, but as a daily experience. Since the end of the war I had had a home in Holland for victims of Nazi brutality. Those who were able to forgive their former enemies were able also to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives, no matter what the physical scars. Those who nursed their bitterness remained invalids. It was as simple and as horrible as that.

“And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. But forgiveness is not an emotion—I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. ‘… Help!’ I prayed silently. ‘I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.’

“And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.

“‘I forgive you, brother!’ I cried. ‘With all my heart!’

“For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then”