Prince of Peace

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. And the government will rest on his shoulders. These will be his royal titles: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6

Sometimes in our non-monarchy society, the importance of royal titles isn’t fully appreciated. I didn’t appreciate them. Then I discovered it; British Period Drama. My recent favorite centers around the importance of title. Not only that the title was passed from male to male, but the responsibility, the respect and the power that comes along with the title. Each Christmas I sing along with Handel’s Messiah and belt out “Wonderful. Counselor. Almighty God. The Everlasting Father. The Prince of Peace.” It wasn’t until recently that the title Prince of Peace stood out to me. What does it mean that Jesus is the Prince of Peace? He is the Prince of Peace. He is sovereign over it. It is his to bestow on those he chooses. Imagine coming before the Prince in all his royal robes. His father sits behind him on the throne. Frantic and frenzied, weighed down by the worries of this life, you make your way toward the Prince. As you come closer, he extends his hand to you. You grasp his outstretched hand and fall at his feet. As he bends, he gently takes you into his embrace and whispers into your ear, “My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Prince of Peace, draw me near to you. Forgive me for not trusting you fully. Help me to loosen my grasp on my worries and burdens of this life. Please bestow on me your everlasting peace.

Be Still

Be still and know that I am God!

I will be honored by every nation.

I will be honored throughout the world.

Psalms 46:10

Be still? I have trouble sitting, waiting and listening. My preference would be for the Lord to part the clouds and say, “Go over here and do this.” Wouldn’t that be nice? We could get right to doing. The Lord does call us to go and do, but he also calls us to be. “Be still and know that I am God”. Oh how that verse has tormented me. I have spent years trying to figure out what I need to do to be. Have you ever seen a fern when it’s first sprouting from the ground? Its leaves are rolled in and its stem is tightly curled into itself. As it grows, it begins to unfurl until the stem is stretched backwards with all its leaves extended. It’s completely open and surrendered to the sun. That is how I want to live. I want to be unfurled of being so tightly curled and focused on myself. I want to be stretched backwards with my arms extended, completely open and surrendered to the Lord, trusting him at every step. To be in His presence.

Honored God. Forgive me for not trusting you fully. You are trustworthy. You do what you say you’ll do. Unfurl me so that I can be open and surrendered to you, basking in the presence of you. 

I am a fern

In 2003 my husband and I took and amazing trip to Washington state. We had been to England & Ireland the year before. Even though we were in Ireland during the rainy season, there hadn't been much rain and it wasn't green like I expected it to be. Washington was every bit as green as I thought Ireland was going to be.







We spent a couple of days in Seattle, then headed for the Olympic Peninsula. It. was. gorgeous. Not only were the shades of green amazing, but the lichen, the plant and the flowers were amazing.








Something I kept noticing were the ferns. Have you ever really looked at a fern as it grows? I've work in Aveda salons for well over a decade and would see it all the time.









A tiny shoot comes out of the ground. All the leaves are curled in and the stem is wound like a pinwheel.

It's only when the fern grows that the pinwheel unwinds and the leaves begin to uncurl. It grows and grows until not only is it open, it's bent over backwards basking in the warmth of sun.

I am like that fern, all curled into myself. Not only do I hang on tight to the things in life, I bring it into myself and curl my grip around it.

Surrender it to me. I hear the Lord say. Instead of releasing my grip, I hold on tighter, curl in tighter.

Only in the three years since my mom lost her battle with cancer have I really seen any noticeable growth. Don't get me wrong, I'm not bent over backwards, basking in the presence of the Lord, but

I am beginning to uncurl.
          I am beginning to loosen my grip.
                    I'm am beginning to surrender.