in which I want to talk about the lambs

I want to talk about the children. I want to talk about the little ones, the least of these, the ones with single-digit years on this earth who have already lost more than any adult should endure. let alone them.

I want to talk about hills to die on and covering Blood and swords and flailing arms. I want to talk about planted flags and crossed arms. I want to talk about little ones caught in the crossfires.

I want to talk about politics and the Church, how somewhere in the middle they merged into a hydra with foaming mouths and breathing fire. I don't know where the Bride went, and I think her Groom is grieving.

I want to talk about eyes. I want to talk about the way the world is watching our every move. I want to talk about how a leader who identifies with Jesus Christ and also with the ugliest of hate died this past week, and how the world rejoiced and danced in the streets. because they hate us, and we wonder why. they taste the word "Christian" on their tongue and spit it out. His name makes up the first part, and they're spitting Him out because of us.

it's rending me.

{photo via pinterest}

I want to talk about how this day left me short on words. I want to talk about the grooves that heels are grinding in the dirt with the kicking and the screaming while He is writing in the dirt right beside us, phrases familiar and convicting.

He says, let the little children come, and do not forbid them. we say, but Jesus, we're doing this for You. 

a friend of mine called it "holding the least of these as hostages in [a] culture war," and he's right. because where you stand on the issue isn't the point. it's really not. the point is that we are commissioned. to set the captives free, to tend to the widows and the orphans, to give a cup of cold water to these little ones.

did we forget? did somewhere, somehow, the footprints on the beach and the trace reminders of the Son of Man serving breakfast on the beach disappear? because I can't stop picturing His face, the gentle lift of His head, His meeting Peter's eyes and softly speaking, "oh Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me? feed my lambs."

we've missed something big, something intrinsic to who He is, this Son of Man, this Prince of Peace. today made it clear.

I can't stop hearing His voice.

do you love Me?
feed my lambs.

lamb's ears

{via pintrest}

some of you may know that i'm on a journey.

a journey to find my voice in Him. a journey to seek the sacred.

this week, both of these journeys have met in a merging of roads that caressed my soul in ways i never could have comprehended.

His voice is sacred to me. 

and now we must discuss sheep for a moment.

in the days of Scripture's pen, sheep were kept at night in groups, enclosed within low stone walls and guarded by one shepherd who laid across the doorway to keep all univinted guests from harming the sheep.

and in the morning, the shepherds would come.

and one would stand at the gate.

and he would call. 

and from all those flocks nestled within the stone pen, only a few would step forward. his sheep would come forward. because they knew this voice that spoke to them. this was from their shepherd, their master.

and they followed him with love.

Rachel Lee. little lamb in the meadow.

{via pintrest}

i am a sheep, clustered in the pen with so many others. the voices of the universe, the crush of confinement, and the rush of life has nearly wiped my mental slate clean.

and then He speaks. 

and i know His voice. 

because i belong to Him. and i run to Him, crying Abba Daddy. 

because i am learning to know His sacred voice.

His way is not safe. but He is so good.

and i follow. 

from now until the beginning of May 2012, i have embarked upon a study: discerning the voice of God by priscilla shirer. i do this in company with a small group of women from our church, led by my dearest mother. 

this walk is new to me, this concept of truly being still and hearing Him speak is familiar but oh so foreign. 

each week, i will be pouring His voice here. 

expect Him here.

 {pray for me.}