The Most Forgotten Feeling: Longing

The Most Forgotten Feeling: Longing

About seven years ago, I was in my usual place of morning reflection and time with God, and I was reading a book on spiritual formation; the topic of longing came up. I sat in my chair, thinking about this word—longing. What does it mean? Why haven’t I given it any thought? A longing is a yearning desire. Its synonyms are pining, craving, thirst, itch, urge, need, and zeal.

Ruth Haley Barton wrote this in her book, Sacred Rhythms, “When was the last time you felt it—your own longing that is? Your longing for love, your longing for God, your longing to live your life as it is meant to be lived in God? When was the last time you felt a longing for healing and fundamental change groaning in you?”

As I sat with this thoughts, the tears poured out. I’d been too busy, too fragmented, too focused on the daily demands of a large family and ministering beside my husband in the church. I was exhausted physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I knew there was more to life. I longed for deeper connection with God, more impact on reaching others for Christ, and the desire to do something significant with my life.

As I sat there in God’s Presence, I recognized my longings were never given a place to grow. I pushed them aside, buried them, and suffocated them with my constant motion. Was it because deep inside I didn’t think they would happen? Had disappointment made me a little jaded? Was it easier not to address my longing? Had I learned to settle?

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Pour Out Your Heart To Make Way for Truth

Pour Out Your Heart To Make Way for Truth

“Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.”—Psalm 62:8

I arise each morning, toss on my fluffy robe, grab a cup of coffee, and head to my “Jesus Chair”, as my friend, Karen, calls it. It’s a pretty chair in my parlor where I meet each morning with God, journal in hand, devotional book, and Bible.

Sleep didn’t come easily last night as I tossed and turned. There’s so much to think about, worry about, figure out: the kids, our ministry, our future, my goals and dreams. I knew Papa and I would have a lot to talk about.

I start with my journal and write, “Dear Papa”. It’s my name for God. It’s a term of endearment which represents security, comfort, unconditional love, and intimacy. Someone taught me long ago the power of keeping a journal and the discipline of getting all the feelings out. It’s something I’ve practiced for over two decades. I start with all the things on my heart and I pour it all out: My honest fears; Papa listens. My temper tantrum; Papa doesn’t mind. My furrowed, angry brow: Papa understands. My pitfall sin and shortcomings; Papa still loves me. My wasted worry and doubt; Papa knows I trust Him.

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Little Known Ways to Encourage Your Adult Kids

Little Known Ways to Encourage Your Adult Kids

Behold children are a gift of the Lord. The fruit of the womb is a reward.” Psalm 127:3

We marked a major milestone with our five kids as our youngest daughter, Keziah, celebrated her eighteenth birthday last month. Bob and I are shocked our offspring are all adults, as their age range is 18 to 29. We enjoyed a quiet evening at home, just the two of us, as we talked about this phase of parenthood.

When life was full with busy, small children, we looked forward to when they were all grown. Since Bob and I are quite tall, we imagined they would be too. We were correct with our prediction. We ranged from 5’11” to 6’6” and it’s the one notable characteristic of our family .

Last night my hubby says, “I just wish they were all little and I could tuck them into the Suburban.” It’s a funny thought because lest you think our times in the Suburban were peaceful, happy times— they were anything but. Our kids were notoriously, horrible travelers. We were rarely more than an one to two hours car ride from family, but you would have thought it took days to travel . Dramatic plea’s from the backseats and much lamenting were part of each trip. We always had to stop for restroom breaks and let’s not forget the trip home from Mall of America when we all puked. Now we’re living in three different states and five separate cities, where the car trips are extra long.

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