Author: Jackie

I am a logical person.

I prefer math over grammar.

I like things to be black and white, clear and simple, have all of the loose ends tied into neat square knots.

I want clear, logical solutions to problems.

Guess what? If you’ve spent any amount of time in the existence we all know as “life,” then you know what’s coming: life isn’t that easy.

So often we’re faced with situations that are anything BUT logical. They certainly don’t make sense.

How do we respond then?

If I’m being perfectly honest, my first impulse has often been to panic. To dive into full-blown human worry mode and overthink every angle until I’m mentally exhausted. This method also never gets me anywhere…

Thankfully, it’s in those places that we can lean on God. At the end of our resources, His stores of abundance are only beginning.

Let go? Release the problem? Completely relax my worrying even when the problem is clearly not figured out yet?! You mean I’m supposed to trust God to solve it… without my help?

YES!!!

Because God is not a logical Being.

His Power is displayed most extravagantly when His plans defy all logic. God is not bound to performing within what seems sensible to human reasoning.

That’s why He chose to create such intricate relationships within nature.

That is why He decided to create each of us in His own image.

When we sinned, logically, God should have condemned us all and started over. What did He owe us? Nothing.

But God chose to punish Himself for our sin, and let us be pardoned.

He came in the lowliest way – born in flesh to a poor virgin girl in a stable. No majestic arrival or grand welcome. It didn’t make sense that He was really the Promised One – yet Messiah is exactly Who had come.

Then He died, and those who believed Him to be their Deliverer all but gave up on that hope. Human logic wouldn’t expect Him to come back to life – but that’s exactly what happened. Against all logic.

The events of the Salvation plan – from the manger to the cross, and finally the victorious resurrection – were the greatest miracles of all time! Yet the plot of the entire story goes completely against all reasoning. It is completely illogical – to us.

So you’ve been seeking God’s will and trying to live it out… then life gets complicated, nothing makes sense, and you see no logical way forward? Breathe deep. Smile. And get ready for something great. Because it’s outside of our resources that God writes His best stories for us. Good and Perfect.

Dear soul… let go and Trust Him. That is the only choice which always makes Good, Perfect, Logical Sense.

The whiteness swirled around my car, leaving the edges of the road undefined in a blurry mess of snowdrifts.

Tires fought to find traction on the slippery surface as my little car struggled through the deep, heavy snow.

I don’t mind winter driving. But when visibility and the roads are bad, then I’m no longer enjoying it. This November snowstorm was the worst I can remember ever driving in.

I somehow made it home, praying earnestly for God’s protection and guidance the whole way. And the next morning… what a beautiful scene.

The drab, brown earth was hidden. The mud was covered by a new layer of white snow.

The trees, which after being stripped of their autumnal glory had been left tired and bare, were transformed into majestic beauty.

Everything ugly had disappeared.

All that I saw in its place was breathtaking.

New.

Perfectly beautiful…

A result of the storm.

“Just trust me as I show you, one step at a time.”

14 little heads nodded in understanding as their worried expressions relaxed.

The confusing lines they were drawing on their papers, according to their instructions, would become foxes eventually. Their teacher had said so.

Instead of returning to my cluttered desk with the usual relief that comes after everybody is back on track, I paused. What did I just say?

***

We were having an ordinary art class, if ordinary is an appropriate adjective to describe my grade 4 art classes. Don’t assume orderly or bland, though the connotation may imply that. Ordinary as in, the usual, which consists of a mob of waving hands, cries of “How do I do this?!” “I need help!” and the dreaded, much quieter, “oops… I think I messed it up…”

Today, our project was a step-by-step fox drawing. I looked at the sample, glanced over the steps, and concluded it would be a simple assignment which my students could manage fairly independently. (Big mistake, right there – never assume anything will be easy. Prepare to assist with each step of every assignment, then anything they do independently is worthy of celebration.)

After showing the class the sample picture so they would know what they’re making, I placed it out of view so they wouldn’t try to go ahead of my directions and get off track. Instead, I would draw each step along with them on the chalkboard. We got started, and I quickly discovered that measurements to the quarter inch are difficult. So I began the process of checking each child’s paper with my ruler, after every step, to ensure that their drawings were accurately to scale.

As I added lines to my large, chalkboard version, I soon saw the fox taking shape. The class didn’t, however, and began asking to have the finished picture stuck to the board. “I don’t see a fox in this. Are you sure it’s going to become a fox? How can it? It looks like a mess!”

I replied in a calm voice, hoping they would understand:

“Class, if I would allow you to see the finished picture, you wouldn’t get to see it take shape, and it would appear complicated. Then you might panic wondering how you’re going to get from here to there! Your pictures will get there – one line at a time. But I don’t want you to stress about everything that has to happen in between, so instead of showing you the finished picture, I’m asking you to focus on me. Trust me as I show you one step at a time.”

They smiled, satisfied, and continued their art. I moved toward the stacks of work waiting on my desk… and stopped in my tracks.

“What did I just say?” I replayed my words and was shocked as I absorbed the meaning of what I had just spoken.

I had put zero thought into that speech. I just opened my mouth and started talking in answer to the question I had gotten. Was that me, grade 4 teacher, casually calming down some confused children in an art class?

“Or was that God, teaching me something profound about life?”

“If I would allow you to see the finished picture, you wouldn’t get to see it take shape…

You’d panic, wondering how you’re going to get from here to there.

I don’t want you to stress about everything in between…

I’m asking you to focus on me… as I show you, one step at a time.”

Who just said what?

Fragmented pieces of life are swirling in my mind, creating a kaleidoscope effect when I step back and view them through the lens of faith.

The beauty of living freely. Being myself. Letting down my guard.

Laughing with unfettered joy.

Trusting.

Embracing my calling.

Finding passion and purpose in my today.

Then there are the darker pieces, adding a bittersweet effect to the mix…

Doubt. Where am I really meant to be, God? What is my special place?

Tears. The good, healing kind, which come from an unwavering belief that God is still good, even when everything else feels shaken.

The question, “Why?” And all of the emotions that come with it…

Sorrow, confusion, frustration… and finally, brokenness.

The step most crucial toward finding the beauty in it all.

Because until I’m broken, God can’t re-fashion me into the lady He wants me to become.

When life is a confusing swirl of fragmented, jagged-edged moments, doubt sees the tangled mess.

The decision to hold on to faith allows us to step back and see God’s love shining through.

And through that lens, I choose to view my life.

Through eyes of faith, I see Love shining through each piece.

Love that transforms confusion into a breathtaking kaleidoscope of light and dark, sorrow and joy… a beauty only made possible when the canvas belongs to the best Artist of all time.

Creator.

All-Knowing God.

The One Who I call Father.

Like spots of moonlight softly illuminating my dark bedroom, grace filled moments filter through the clouds in my life.

Sustaining me.

My nephew’s innocent smile as he cuddles close to me.

A breathtaking sunset.

A chance meeting (in truth, it was divinely planned by God) with the very person I needed to talk to, and was too timid to reach out to… words of encouragement and understanding at just the right moment.

A hug that lets me know I’m not alone. Jesus has hands and feet to love me through the beautiful people in my life.

Heart to heart sharing with close friends who I’m blessed to work with every day.

A handmade card from a student with the message “You’re a great teacher.”

Laughing in a pile of leaves beside my co teacher as we’re buried alive by the efforts of our entire class…

Childish delight, streaming sunlight, crunching leaves. I’m smiling, inside and out.

I turn my face to the sun and allow it to flood my soul with new hope.

Each of these moments… divinely planned, and saturated with grace.

Reminders of God’s faithfulness in the little things, which increase my trust in Him to handle the big things as well.

A few days ago, I stood looking out over the ocean.

I could have watched those waves crash against the rocks for hours, but eventually I had to turn and leave.

There’s something about the ocean that always draws me in.

Maybe you’ve felt it too, when you hear the crash and see the spray… and something deep inside you resonates with those waves.

Life is a lot like that. Waves of confusion, heartbreak, and injustice, crash in on you without stopping… and sometimes you feel like you’re drowning in the sorrow of it all.

At Peggy’s Cove, signs warned of the danger of going onto the slippery, black rocks. Although I understood the purpose and necessity of posting those signs, I wondered why anyone with common sense would venture so near to the edge. I was quite content to enjoy the view from where I could relax, up on a nice solid rock.

It was obvious to me that being in those waves, being dashed against the rocky shoreline, would not be a good situation. The waves would also have lost their beauty and become terrifying, had I been in them.

Now, as I reflect on that scene several days later, I’m noticing some strong parallels to real life.

As a teacher, I realize that object lessons are a great way to help students grasp new concepts. (I should put effort into using more object lessons!😉)

As a student with God as my Master Teacher, however, I find myself struggling to remember the lessons He teaaches me.

Today as I looked back at photos from my travels, I realized why that photo spoke to me so much. It’s a snapshot of an object lesson God is trying to teach me.

He wants me to stay standing on the Rock – Himself.

Those waves crashing in are going to drown me if I focus on them and not my footing.

If I wander out closer to the edge, trying to get a better view and figure out the cause of each threatening wave… they’ll pull me in and under.

But they take on a sort of wild beauty when I view them in security from the vantage point of a Solid Rock.

Each wave that crashes against the rocks breaks up without harming me at all, because I sit safely way up above them.

No wave, no matter how forceful, can threaten me if I’m anchored on God.

“Soaring on wings through the starlit skies, leaving behind all the trouble and strife…”

The plane nosed upward, and suddenly I was in the air for the first time in my life!

After several seconds, my co teacher asked me when I plan to release the armrest on my seat…

So I rather sheepishly settled in to enjoy the trip. As if clutching my seat with both hands was going to ensure a safe landing this evening!

Isn’t that totally me in life, though? I’ve boarded this flight which is my lifetime, and I’m flying with “the Narrow Way” to the sunset at the end of the journey. Jesus is the pilot, and He can be trusted in that role.

I was all excited to “take off” when I gave my heart to God – to see what He was going to do in my life.

But then, when the speed or the angle feels extreme to me, I panic and hold on to anything I can, fighting for a semblance of control.

But I realized on that flight, as in real life… you gotta let go and trust the Pilot. Only then can you relax enough to enjoy the view. Even if you don’t see the outcome of your journey yet.

That flight was on Saturday. I was looking forward to flying back home today, and experiencing that “higher view” (see my last post) again.

Instead, we stood and watched our plane taxi away without us.

• Well. •

Let’s just say, that was not my best moment. We prayed in desperation, but God chose not to answer our plea to fly home this evening. We had to surrender that.

And I didn’t know how I could handle staying on the ground when everything in my soul wanted to re-experience the peace that came with the higher view. Somehow, it had been so easy to trust God when I was in the sky, realizing His greatness.

But soon, we saw God working. Suddenly, everything was coming back together again that had fallen apart.

We got another flight – for the next morning. We found a hotel room close by. And I nearly wept for joy at the sound of the helpful clerk on the other end of the line as she said that yes, they offer a free shuttle service… and we would be picked up in a couple of minutes!

I have never before sang “Hallelu, Hallellu, Praise Ye The Lord” with as much vigor as we did in that airport elevator after I hung up the phone.

We arrived at our hotel, an intense feeling of relief melting all the earlier tension away. I nearly floated down the hallway to our room!

Finally, we were ready to talk about what we had just come through. And began noticing blessings in the whole experience. God was looking out for us in so many ways. The hotel restaurant thankfully was open late, because as soon  as our tension faded, we realized how hungry we were.

We went for supper and discovered they offered gluten free buns. Suddenly the menu had so many options. Praise God!

Our water glasses arrived. With plastic straws! Our patience would have struggled to deal with soggy paper straws by then. Suddenly, the stress turned into hysterical laughter.

So we couldn’t fly home… but we got an extra night in a nice hotel. And I am thankful for gluten free buns, plastic straws, a daylight flight landing to look forward to instead of arriving at night. The gift of laughter to release our emotions – much more enjoyable than the torrential tears which I fought to hold back at the airport.

And laughing there at that table, my faith in God stronger than before, I realized I was flying.

Once I let go of what I had wanted, and stopped fighting it, I could relax and enjoy the ride again. Trusting Jesus as the pilot of my life.

Really, who needs an airplane to soar high enough to find rest in God?

Thank you God, for coming to show Yourself to me right where I am. Thank You for meeting me here on the ground. Thank You for teaching my spirit to soar.

For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: for now we know in part; but then shall I know even as I also am known. 1 Corinthians 13:12 KJV

After years of wondering, the question was answered today: I enjoy traveling by air. A lot, actually.

Not because of the thrill of takeoff, or the impressive view (and certainly not the confined space). Oh, I loved the exhilarating feel of lifting off the ground. And seeing a miniature Niagara falls far, far beneath us was incredible.

But what I love about flying is something I never realized would be part of the experience, and that is this: having a perspective from a higher vantage point.

The huge airport terminal that we were somewhat intimidated to navigate on the ground became increasingly smaller as we lifted high above it.

Niagara Falls, which have always inspired in me a sense of awe at God’s greatness, were tiny. I saw the size of the majestic falls in relation to how much bigger this Earth is… and caught a glimpse of an even greater God than I had previously comprehended. Our Creator is AWESOME!

But what stood out to me the most was the mountains. I hardly recognized them as mountains at first – those tiny pointed bumps down there? Really? I studied them in fascination for a few moments, and pondered the fact that I could see all sides of each mountain. Those big mountains… appeared so little.

And in that moment I felt God whisper to my heart, “That is how I see your mountains.”

Wow! Clarity! Don’t you love when the Spirit comes and turns everyday, earthly moments into holy encounters?!

I took another good long look out the window. This time I noticed that one side of each mountain was dark and shadowed, while the opposite side was brilliantly bathed in the rays of the late afternoon sun.

The vantage point from the sky stripped those mountains of any ability to appear large or intimidating. The blend of shadows and light created a beautiful scene.

“And this… is God’s perspective of my mountains.”

1 Corinthians 13:12 gained new meaning on that plane. Our earth bound viewpoint allows us to know only in part… flying higher allowed me to see more… but only when I share God’s vantage point in Heaven will I be able to comprehend His greatness.

For now, I am thankful to have my feet back on solid ground, and my heart is at peace, trusting the Mighty God Who sees every detail of my little mountains.

Keep on climbing, My child. I see light on the other side.

It started with the mist over the river this morning.

Then, singing my heart out on the drive to school… and realizing my voice has finally, fully, returned after dealing with laryngitis for over a week.

My little people smiled at me as they came in the doors, and “my” seventh graders cheerfully returned my “Good morning!” in a relaxed manner. Somewhere in the past few weeks, the relationships I fought for have been built with these children. It happened so gradually that I wasn’t aware until now that the battle isn’t quite as fierce anymore.

The teacher leading all-school devotions asked grade four to read a verse from the Bible. I held my breath but inwardly panicked. What if they wouldn’t find the reference, or couldn’t read the words, or wouldn’t make any sound at all in their nervousness? But in a few moments, I shared a smile of amusement with my co-teacher as they all read the correct verse – in a jumbled fashion, at varying speeds. And I wanted to just hold onto that feeling, there in the church, morning sunlight streaming in the windows, and my heart swelling with pride in my students. Golden.

My efforts to make math class exciting were rewarded with smiling enthusiasm as I compared learning a new concept to the preparation for a roller-coaster ride. “Now, when you open your book and see the lesson, it will feel new. But nothing will catch you by surprise, because we have done examples. I’ve told you what the ride will be like. You’re fully prepared to conquer this.”

After noon recess, we sat on our desks for storytime, laughing uncontrollably… the teachers who walked by our door probably questioned my ability to teach. But I was creating memories with these children. Abundant living isn’t always organized or routine-abiding.

Instead of creative writing, I had the thrill of teaching Christmas program songs. I couldn’t stop smiling the entire time. Who could, when playing your keyboard, swaying with the music, and surrounded by childish voices singing their best?

I spent the last portion of the day getting carried away on my favourite subject: writing. Today’s lesson was titled “Criteria for Opinion Writing,” and every one of the students was engaged. Possibly my dramatic enthusiasm appealed to their adolescent senses of humour, but hey, I had their attention and they all were absorbing the lesson!

The little girl who had her last day at school today sweetly told me all about the farewell party her class had for her. She seemed fine with leaving, her childish innocence shielding her from understanding the reality that she is will no longer see her friends here. So I forced lightheartedness into my voice, to match hers. Though sad, something about it all seemed so rich, so golden…

After school, there were the usual conversations with co-teachers: debriefing of our days, the serious concerns sprinkled liberally with humourous anecdotes. And with renewed surety, my heart whispered, “this is where I belong.”

I reflected on all of this on my drive home. The sun that I watched rise this morning, was now setting in a breathtaking display of colour. “Sunsets are proof that every day can end beautifully.” The familiar quote flashed into my mind, and my soul echoed “Amen.” Golden.

All of these moments were part of a very ordinary day. Yet each one was golden. Do we miss the gold dust that God sprinkles into our daily routines, giving them a heavenly shimmer?

“Lord, give me eyes of faith to see the golden hue Your Light shines onto my everyday. Transform my mundane duties into beautiful moments of abundant living, as I seek to glorify You in everything I do. Amen.”

“Lay your Isaac down.”

After a few days of only very muddled thoughts, this distinctly clear phrase was highly welcome when it flashed into my mind.

I’ve spent the last week contemplating the meaning of surrender. Although life has taught me that surrrender is the only process which leads to true peace, it still doesn’t come easily.

What if I could live with the reckless abandon of a child throwing a little pink elephant way up into the air? Laughing in delight with no fear or concern for the elephants’ well being.

No hesitation. Letting go completely. Trusting Someone bigger to catch it.

Amid these swirling thoughts, the story of Abraham and Isaac has been impressed upon my heart with new meaning. What was God actually asking Abraham to do? Sacrifice Isaac – the child whom Abraham had longed for so many years. In this son all of his dreams were coming true… through this son God was to fulfill His promise to Abraham. And he was to be sacrificed?

Yet Abraham did exactly what God asked him to do. He began climbing that mountain to the place where he built an altar – and prepared to sacrifice his Isaac. He didn’t know the end of the story, as we do now, about how God would provide.

Abraham acted in what we as observers could label a “reckless abandon.” Or, true faith and unwavering trust in an unchanging God.

Sometimes life feels like we’ve been climbing up a mountain for a long time. We just want to experience the joy at the summit. But to reach the summit, we need to build that altar. Whatever your Isaac is that you’re holding on to: dreams for the future, pain from the past, desires or doubts… lay it down.

Because when your hands open up to let go, you are in a position to recieve what God is waiting to place into them.

Throw everything away with reckless abandon, trust God to take care of it, and prepare to live life with a mountaintop, victorious kind of joy.

“Trust Me. Lay your Isaac down.”