merry go rounds that can’t stop and won’t stop.

A couple years ago, for Mother’s Day, we went to a local park where there is a train and merry-go-round. (And other things as well, but they aren’t critical to this story).

It was me and my little family, and another little family that we match up perfectly next too. You know, husband husband, wife wife, daughter daughter, son son. And miracle of all miracles, we all get along and genuinely enjoy each other’s company.

So we went to the park to ride the train and the merry go round and there was the darling-est old man overseeing both the train and the carousel. Just picture the most precious old gentleman you have ever seen, with white hair and overalls (at least, I’m pretty sure he was in overalls. That’s how I remember him anyway. And with a conductor hat. But I think my imagination made that part up.)

So the wife pair, and the daughter pair decided to ride the carousel while “the mans” (as my daughter calls them) stood off to the side and talked and manly things (probably).

So we rode the carousel and chatted and the girls squealed with glee. And we talked, and we talked some more.

And I started to feel a bit dizzy, which is uncommon for me. And I noticed my mom friend glancing around casually.

And finally one of us said, “This ride has been going on for a while, hasn’t it?” And we kind of giggled it off and talked some more.

But at that point, it was kind of like, “Why IS this the never ending carousel?”

So then we tried to get the Hubby’s attention, because was the ride broken? What exactly was happening? Why was this the never ending merry go round? But they were too busy talking about…whatever they were talking about.

And we tried to distract ourselves from the turning and up and down and the world whirling past and the merry go round song that played over and over and over, but the situation was beginning to feel a bit frantic.

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say we’d been on for probably about 10 minutes at this point.

Finally, we caught a glimpse of the darlingest man who was sitting in the conductors seat in the middle of the carousel, operating the whole thing (who was maybe or maybe not wearing overalls and a conductors hat).

And sure enough: he was asleep.


My friend exclaimed, “OH MY GOSH! HE’S ASLEEP! ” which promptly jolted him awake. (If this was a text, I’d insert my catch phrase here: “ALLLLLL the praise hands!”)

He looked a bit bewildered, then deliberately and blessedly reached over and hit the “off” button and the whole world slowed down and came back into focus.

We stumbled from the Carousel struggling to hold onto the girls as our feet re-adjusted to ground that wasn’t whirling round-and-round-and-round.

I think the Husbands asked a question like, “Where have you all been?” And were dumbfounded when we explained we had been on the merry-go-round THAT ENTIRE TIME. That the adorable conductor had fallen asleep and we had woken him up so that we could end the spin cycle. And also, we were so glad they were paying attention. (Insert just a smidge-bit of sarcasm there. Just the tiniest bit.)

Ever been stuck on a ride while the only one with the power to make it stop, was asleep? And the ones you thought were watching over you, lost track of you?

Ever felt that way in life? Like you are stuck on a loop you cannot get out of. And you’re sure the Lord must have fallen asleep on you. And the people you thought would have your back are distracted by something else and have no idea your world is in chaos and no one can find the off switch.

Or is it just me?

Even once you are back on solid ground it still feels like everything is shifting and you can’t get your bearings.


Or even worse, from the outside, everything looks fine. A normal, fun carousel ride – a normal, ordinary life. It’s only those stuck on it that know that what is going on is anything but normal.

I did ballet for years and years and years. One of the fundamental pieces of dance is the concept of spotting. When turning, pirouetting, or moving in any sort of circular motion, you pick a spot on the wall and keep your eyes glued to it as you turn until you can spot it no longer, than whip your head back around to that exact spot.

And on and on and on and on and on.

It’s called spotting.

And it can save your life in a series of pirouettes. If, if, you keep your eyes fixed on a spot.

So I got to thinking. Maybe, the key to surviving the spin of life, is spotting.

Picking a spot, and keeping our eyes fixed in the midst of the chaos and churn, is what can save us.

Fixing our thoughts, our hearts, our minds, on Him.

So we know, no matter what our circumstances are doing, no matter how fast our life is spinning, no matter who has lost track of us, we are sure where our gaze should fall – on Him.

We have an Anchor, a constant, a place our gaze and our trust can always spot.

You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in You, all whose thoughts are fixed on You. Trust in the Lord always, for the Lord God is the eternal Rock. Isaiah 26:3-4

After all, He is our Rock. He isn’t moving.

In Him,



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You know the 10am hour at the beach?

Surfers have cleared out, but the people who place any value on sleep (or donuts, or breakfast out) probably haven’t quite made it down yet. There is almost a hush on the shoreline, and simultaneously the buzz of all that the day could hold.

It was just such a morning last summer, when those of us that were there stood awe-struck on the shore as a pod of dolphins swam by. The largest pod of dolphins I have ever seen. They just went on and on and on and more and more and more kept appearing.

It felt like everyone stood with their toes to the waters edge with bated breath, taking it all in.

As the dolphins cleared out, people again entered the water, and the morning beach rituals resumed – setting up tents, lathering up in sunscreen, throwing beach toys all asunder.

The morning rhythm was once again interrupted by the scream of the life guard’s whistle as he signaled at a dad and two young children to come in. The dad couldn’t have been more than waist deep. And there was no obvious sign of trouble – they weren’t too far out, there wasn’t a rip tide. But the dad immediately grabbed his kids and stepped onto the shore as his daughter grew frantic.

The dad’s feet had no sooner hit dry ground than an enormous dolphin popped up right where he had been standing seconds before.

I was close enough to the life guard’s chair that I commented, “Whoa. Good call.”

He turned to me and calmly explained that from his chair, he could see the dolphin circling the dad and his kids beneath the water. And while the dolphin wouldn’t intentionally hurt them, even just bumping into them could end badly.

The guard’s view from up above, gave him perspective of what was going on beneath. So far beneath, that even those that were in it, didn’t have perspective of what was brewing around them.

His directive might have seemed confusing, even alarming. But he knew what he was doing. He saw what was unfolding and he knew he could do something about it – if, and it was a big if, those that he was directing, heeded his advice.

Do you see where I am going with this?

I think I stood a bit slack jawed on the beach that day. Contemplating the powerful simile.

Here is the thing. Today, I am 10 kinds of confused about the directions the Lord has given me. Confused about what to do and how to do and mostly, why.

The Lord is being clear, but His clear direction don’t mean it makes sense to me.

Forgive how on the nose this is, but His view from up above is giving Him perspective that I don’t see. Even while I am here in it. He sees what is unfolding around me, the situation brewing around me. He sees my circumstance with a fullness that I don’t. And the best I can do, is obey.

His picture is always clearer than mine. His perspective is always better. His plan is always good. He always has my best interest at heart and He directs my steps accordingly.

He is always worth listening too, always worth obeying, always worth heeding.

who announces the end from the beginning and reveals beforehand what has not yet occurred, who says, ‘My plan will be realized, I will accomplish what I desire,’ [Isaiah 46:10]

Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
 in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight.” [Proverbs 3:5-6]



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all in, hands off, before the Lord.


Sometimes I see the Lord working in themes in my life. And while I love the consistency of themes,  it often catches me off guard.

I found myself caught off guard this week when God-honoring friendships kept coming up. Turning over in my mind what I was experiencing and running through what I was hearing and trying to contrast it all against the Word of God. And more than that, how do I take all of that and move forward?

I love friendships, I am thankful the Lord saw fit to design us for fellowship and to give us friends to fill that need. I have so many rich friendships. My life is so much richer for the people the Lord has seen fit to share with me. I love the Sarah Groves song that sings, “Life with you is half as hard, and twice as good.”

I have so many people that fit that description and I am so deeply grateful for each one.

But I also have people that could be better described as, “Life with you is twice as hard and half as good.”

I am an introvert by nature, and more of a listener than a talker (in terms of interpersonal relationships) and I am passive and a homebody and sometimes that makes “friendship” feel like it is all jagged edges.

While I love that the Bible allows for boundaries, my nature often adopts an “endure endure endure” perspective with the people that are more challenging.

Please don’t get me wrong, even the best friendship’s hit bumps. And while I always wrestle with the challenge of it, I never fail to be thankful on the other side of it. Thankful that the Lord grew me, thankful for friends that love me enough to say the hard thing, thankful for people willing to see me through the hard thing, thankful the Lord sustained me through someone else’s hard thing, thankful I have had some faith someone could borrow for a time, thankful to be the recipient of someone else’s faith for a time.

But you know the hard relationships I am talking about, right? The one’s that seem to be all challenges? The ones where you are always on the giving end. Where you always take responsibility, where there is something that always needs fixing? The relationships that don’t make life feel richer, they just make everything taste a bit sour?

In the midst of my friendship theme and all the things the Lord was bringing to heart and to mind, a dear friend of mine and I were discussing an especially challenging friendship, and she said something to the effect of, “I need you to help me know when enough is enough and I am holding onto the friendship out of determination, not because it is God-honoring.”

That’s the hardest line isn’t it?

The line of “Am I holding onto this because the Lord is asking me too or because I am determined to not fail at this?”

And sometimes, the Lord calls us to a hard relationship and sustains us through that relationship and continually calls us over and over and over and over to that person. And we persevere and lean into Him and do the best we can with what we are given. And we know and love the Lord all the better for it.

But does He call us to let go of the friendship? And how do we do that?

I got to wondering if there is ever a time where the purpose of a friendship might be that we are the one that carries them to Jesus and leaves them there.

“A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. They gathered in such large numbers that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them. Some men came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus by digging through it and then lowered the mat the man was lying on. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” Now some teachers of the law were sitting there, thinking to themselves, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” Immediately Jesus knew in his spirit that this was what they were thinking in their hearts, and he said to them, “Why are you thinking these things? Which is easier: to say to this paralyzed man, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk’? 10 But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the man, 11 “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.” 12 He got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all. This amazed everyone and they praised God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this!” [Mark 2:1-12]

Do you suppose that sometimes the purpose of a friendship might be that we were the one who would hand them off to the Lord? That we weren’t required to walk with them throughout it all and endure, endure, endure alongside them, but rather be the one to hand them off to the only One capable of healing? The only One capable of meeting their every need?

Maybe we are the only person in our friends world who would lead them to the feet of Jesus, and entrust them to Him.

My gut would be to call myself a failure in that. To not even go there or contemplate that option, because that would be me failing as a friend. Failing as a human. Failing as a Christian.

But you know? In Mark 2, I find myself rejoicing for those men that endured long enough to get their friend to the feet of Jesus. They got it. They got what their friend needed. And they left him at Jesus’ feet until he, ON HIS OWN, could walk away healed.

They put him before Jesus and took their hands off, and kept their hands off until Jesus had accomplished in him what only He could accomplish in him.

Here is the thing, I don’t think the paralytic would have experienced that same healing if his friends hadn’t gone all-in, hands-off before the Lord. Don’t get me wrong, the Lord can heal with our hands on, or hands off. The Lord does what He sees fit and He doesn’t let us ruin His goodness. But if the friends hadn’t released their friend before the Lord – this story would have played out so differently.

It occurs to me that in releasing their friend, they weren’t giving up on the friendship, or “unfriending” him. They were merely entrusting their friend and their friendship to the Lord.

And you know maybe, occasionally, we get to be the person who brought our friend to Jesus, and the person who trusted Jesus enough to leave them there.

With love,




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top ten.

1.) We are building a home. We had a tour last week they call the “behind the walls” tour. We got to see everything behind the walls before they put up dry wall. It was a neat experience, but my favorite part? I brought a Sharpie and scribbled scripture all over the framing. Every verse I could think of before my Sharpie bit the dust, on every blank corner of 2″x4″ I could find. It felt so rich to try to put my own literal spin on Deuteronomy 6.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” [Deuteronomy 6]


(Disclaimer: I was using the word “scribble” literally.)

2.) My sweet daughter has a new phrase she uses, “Well that is hiwariousing.” (Her combination for “hilarious” and “embarrassing”.) Feel free to borrow that and use as needed.

3.) I got a new Bible with poppies on it, and I am just tickled over it. A few years ago I was challenged to come up with a thing that generally reminds me of God’s love for me. Almost like a personal totem, or Ebenezer – that points me to who I am and Whose I am and how loved I am. For me, it’s poppies. (If you have never thought about it, it might be fun thing to think about.)

4.) This picture of Bubba at Chick Fil A. I cannot even. Because goodness knows, that is how I feel about Chick Fil A, too – please give me alllll the Chick Fil A.


5.) My new, most favorite Coffee Creamer. One can of coconut milk, blended with a splash of vanilla and a teaspoon of dark cocoa powder. I mix it at the beginning of the week and add a bit to my coffee each day. It is the most perfect creamer I have ever had. A little coconutty, a little chocolatey, and plenty of coffee.

6.) Ann Voskamp’s book “The Broken Way.” Oh man. This has ministered to my soul and challenged me in ways I can’t even explain. I could share quote after quote, but the one I am currently clinging too is this: “The state of your home does not reflect the state of your soul.” I don’t know if your home is similar to mine, but we are in a season of mess and transition and I needed a reminder that the quality of my soul is not defined by the quality of my home. That my ability or inability to vacuum today, or clean up toys for the 50th time since breakfast is not a direct reflection of my value before the Lord. I hope that blesses you like it blessed me.

7.) “He will cover you with His feathers, under His wings you will find refuge.” Psalm 91:4

8.) “God is too good to be unkind. He is too wise to be mistaken. When we cannot trace His hand, we must trust His heart.” [Charles Spurgeon]

9.) I took my best girl to the Caps game the other night. It was probably the most fun I have ever had with her. She was all sweetness and spunk and glee and at the end of the night she whispered in my ear, “Thanks for being my best girl Momma, and thanks for taking me to the Caps game.” 2017-04-09_18-28-39_227

10.) “I Have this Hope” by Tenth Avenue North. This has been my anthem. It’s been on repeat, as loud as it will go, as hard as my heart can belt it. We have this hope, Amen.


With Love,



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the blind leading the blind in the dark.

We drove to the beach a few weeks ago. It’s a drive I’ve made hundreds of times. Maybe more. (I’d try to do the math, but we all know I can’t.)

There is a way to get there that’s pretty much a straight shot. Get on one road main road and take it about 90% of the drive. But that’s not the way we go.

We cut through cow fields and corn fields. We drive past adorable little dairies and abandoned farms and thriving farms. We see farmers markets. We go through one stoplight towns and no stoplight towns and take roads so far off the beaten path there are no lines.

I’ve made the drive my whole life. Husband inherited the drive when he decided he loved the girl who liked the beach best of all.

We left late so that (theoretically) the kids would sleep in the car. So it was dark out. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal. And I didn’t wear my contacts. Which also shouldn’t have been a big deal. And I didn’t bring my glasses.

None of which should have been an issue except that after a bit into the drive, husband said, “You’re going to have to navigate. I can’t remember how to get there.”

I stared at him blankly for a bit.

After we hashed out the, “It’s dark and I don’t have glasses or contacts and there are a million turns and just as many cornfields and how do you not know how to get there?” I did what any person with no other option would do; I did my best.

We quite literally put to test the phrase, “I could get there with my eyes closed.”

Good news: we made it. And I don’t think we made any wrong turns. (If we did. I didn’t see them.) And what struck me as we pulled into my parents beach house, was that I was able to take cues from things I can’t see. I was able to take cues from things I never would have known were etched in my mind. There is the obvious “Walk by faith not by sight” analogy but to me, it was more than I was surprised to be led by things that had never led me before.

I think the Lord has used that night as an analogy for my life the last couple months. Just because He’s not leading me how I’m familiar with, doesn’t mean He’s not leading. I fell into this pattern where I only trusted Him to lead a certain way. I was comfortable following that way, I didn’t have to trust any of my other senses, and in some ways I didn’t have to trust Him at all…I could just lean into what I was familiar with and call it a day.

Leading by feeling is bad theology. Following by feeling is bad theology. So please know that’s not where I’m going with this.

I’m not trying to make theology at all, as a matter of fact. I’m just trying to share the way it all hit me.

There is something interesting about following along without the use of your most relied upon instinct.

What if the Israelites had decided the Lord lead by parting the Red Sea, so they would only ever follow His lead if seas were parting.

Or if after the Lord had answered Gideon through the wet fleece, Gideon had only ever listened to the Lord when the Lord led by dew on fleece?

Or if after the Lord appeared in the whisper, Elijah only ever followed if the Lord was whispering?

If we have known Him one way and we wait exclusively for Him to make himself known in that exact way, we stand to miss a lot. If I don’t wake up daily in desperate anticipation of however He might see fit to guide me, I might miss Him altogether.

In His word we find that He leads by the pillar cloud by day, and pillar of fire by night, and by angels, and by finding ourselves in His shadow, and by walking when He makes the sun stand still. He parts seas, He sends donkey’s to talk and hands to write on walls. Sometimes His feathers lead us along and sometimes it’s His mighty right hand.

See, I think sometimes I treat the Lord like it is a character out of Hansel and Gretel, dropping breadcrumbs and just hoping I’m able to pick up His trail.

But I know Him better than that. I know He is more intentional that that. I know He is more purposeful than that.

As a parent of tiny humans, I feel like 90% of my day is experimental, and I don’t do well with experiments. But I’m still learning my tiny humans. I’m still learning how the Lord designed them and then therefore, how to best lead them. How to best encourage them, how to best love them, how to best discipline them.

And sometimes I think that shades my perception of the Lord. Like He is still trying to learn me, trying to learn how to best lead me.

But He knows me. Knows me. He knows me better than I know myself.

He knows how to best lead me. Knows exactly what I need the moment I need it. Knows what I will follow and when I will follow it. He knows when I need His feathers to brush me along, and when I need His mighty right hand to force an issue. He knows when I need something as jaw dropping as a hand writing on the wall to make His will clear. He knows what I am walking a Red Sea road and I desperately need Him to make a way where there wasn’t one before. He knows when I am waiting to hear His whisper and when I need Him to come thundering in.

He takes us by the hand and He holds us in His hand and He carries us, and He soars with us on eagles wings and quiets us with His love…He is there every step of the way.



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“not in my mouth.”

Recently, my daughter has picked up a habit where if I say a word or a phrase, she says, “Say that again.” I repeat it. Then I can usually hear her turning it over and over in her mouth trying to use it correctly or say it properly.

The other day, I said something, which she asked me to repeat. But it was not followed by her usual regurgitation. She sat quietly.

I said, “Do you want to try to say it?”

“No Momma. I can’t say that. I don’t have that word in my mouth.”

I was so pierced by her phrasing. “I don’t have that word in my mouth.” It was both funny and compelling.

So compelling. But have you ever felt compelled by something and yet not totally sure why you are compelled by it?

She didn’t try to say my word, but I kept her phrase right on the tip of my tongue for days, “I don’t have that word in my mouth.” Turning it over and over in my mind.

In my Bible study, I came across a story I had never heard before, or maybe just never really noticed before.

And he said to me, “Son of man, eat whatever you find here. Eat this scroll, and go, speak to the house of Israel.” So I opened my mouth, and he gave me this scroll to eat.  And he said to me, “Son of man, feed your belly with this scroll that I give you and fill your stomach with it.” Then I ate it, and it was in my mouth as sweet as honey. And he said to me, “Son of man, go to the house of Israel and speak with my words to them.” [Ezekiel 3:1-4]

The Lord is calling Ezekiel and tells him to eat a scroll. To literally eat His words.

And Ezekiel obeys. He could have literally respond, “I have that Word IN MY MOUTH.” We see Ezekiel actually taste it, really taste it, and he experiences that it actually is as sweet as honey.

I love allegory and simile in scripture, but I equally love when the Lord is so concrete and so literal you could almost laugh. And I love when He gives us something that keeps poking at us, and we can’t quite shake it out but we don’t know why.

Like when He compels us with our daughter’s words, and then makes it come alive across the words of Scripture.

In scripture, the Word of God is described as “sweeter than honey” (Psalm 119:103). That it is a “lamp for our feet and a light to our path” (Psalm 119:105). That it is “living and active and sharper than any double edge sword” (2 Timothy 3:16). That it “endures forever” (Isaiah 40:8). And Jesus himself says we live off of it.

Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” [Matthew 4:4]

There is a significant flow of events in Ezekiel. The Lord tells him to eat the scrolls, Ezekiel eats the scroll, has them in his mouth, says they taste “as sweet as honey”. THEN God tells him to take the words he had put in his mouth and speak them.

It got me thinking about how I hunger for the Word of God, and if I hunger for the Word of God. And if I live off it. If I live by it’s light, and am desperate for it to be living and active in me.

If I put His words in my mouth and then speak them.

It made me reply my interactions with daughter over and over again. How she asks me to say it, and say it again, and say it again, until she is comfortable enough with it to say it herself.

And I wondered when the last time was I sat at the Lord’s feet and asked Him to say it, and to say it again, and to say it again. Until I really got it. Until I was comfortable enough with it that I could own it. That I could say it with conviction. That I could live it with conviction.

How often do I sit with my Bible open, and I just search the Word until I find every which way He has answered my question. Finding passage after passage after passage that shows me what He says and how He says it so that I know it and I can own it and I can say it and live with conviction.

Sometimes it is the big questions that can only be answered in faith. And sometimes it is the very simple, “You love me? Show me, please. Show me again. Say it, please. Say it again, Say it, again. Again. Please.”

Until I reach a place where I can say, “I’ve got His word in my mouth, and man it is sweeter than honey.”

In His love,




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My sister and my mom went to Israel. We had a family text message thread going where they would send us all pictures with captions like, “This is such-and-such location where Jesus did this-and-that.”

My brother is the family comedian, and in an especially witty moment, he responded to one such message with a picture of himself outside a pizza joint. His caption was, “This is the spot where we have our favorite pizza. Jesus was never here though.”

I could not stop laughing.

It has become a bit of a joke within our home now. “What is that a picture of?” “Oh, That is Sweetie Belle’s ballet recital. Jesus never walked there though.” “Oh! Thats an adorable picture.” “It is. Jesus never walked there though.”

I am not sure if the hilarity is conveying, but goodness, I hope it is.

I got to thinking though. About places I end up and think, “Lord. Where you ever here? Where you ever in this?”

There are some places I end up and I am positive deep down in my core that the Lord brought me there. Do you know what I’m saying?

For example. We just bought a house. (Well. Technically. We bought a plot of land and we currently own a hole in the ground. But the builder tells us it’ll be a house. Here’s to hoping.) But the process of buying the house, and buying THAT house had the Lord’s fingerprints all over it. I have no doubt He was there, He is here, He is right there in it with us.

There would be no text: “Here is our new house, I sure hope the Lord is here with us.” I know. I have no doubt He is right there. It’d be like I sent a picture of my family at our new house and you could see Him standing right there with us – that is how concrete His presence feels in this process.

But other areas of my life…it is not so concrete.

I thought I was following Him. I thought I’d followed His lead. Only to look around and go, “I don’t know that you’re here. I don’t know you were ever here.”

It makes me think of the woman at the well.

6 Jacob’s well was there; and Jesus, tired from the long walk, sat wearily beside the well about noontime. 7 Soon a Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Please give me a drink.” 8 He was alone at the time because his disciples had gone into the village to buy some food.

9 The woman was surprised, for Jews refuse to have anything to do with Samaritans.[b] She said to Jesus, “You are a Jew, and I am a Samaritan woman. Why are you asking me for a drink?”

10 Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.”

11 “But sir, you don’t have a rope or a bucket,” she said, “and this well is very deep. Where would you get this living water? 12 And besides, do you think you’re greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us this well? How can you offer better water than he and his sons and his animals enjoyed?”

13 Jesus replied, “Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again.14 But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.”

15 “Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.”

16 “Go and get your husband,” Jesus told her.

17 “I don’t have a husband,” the woman replied.

Jesus said, “You’re right! You don’t have a husband— 18 for you have had five husbands, and you aren’t even married to the man you’re living with now. You certainly spoke the truth!”

19 “Sir,” the woman said, “you must be a prophet. 20 So tell me, why is it that you Jews insist that Jerusalem is the only place of worship, while we Samaritans claim it is here at Mount Gerizim,[c] where our ancestors worshiped?”

21 Jesus replied, “Believe me, dear woman, the time is coming when it will no longer matter whether you worship the Father on this mountain or in Jerusalem.22 You Samaritans know very little about the one you worship, while we Jews know all about him, for salvation comes through the Jews. 23 But the time is coming—indeed it’s here now—when true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth. The Father is looking for those who will worship him that way. 24 For God is Spirit, so those who worship him must worship in spirit and in truth.”

25 The woman said, “I know the Messiah is coming—the one who is called Christ. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.”

26 Then Jesus told her, “I am the Messiah!”[d] (John 4)

If we had a snapshot of this, Jesus would be right there. I mean, right there. With her. Close enough to touch. They are breathing the same air. Sharing words. Sharing a drink.

And she misses it. Completely. He drops all these hints about who He is, and she has no idea.

He gives her time to wrap her mind around it, and yet He still has to spell it out for her at the end.

I am the Messiah!

And I wonder how often I am in her shoes. Shouting at the Lord, “WHERE ARE YOU? Why aren’t you HERE?!” While He sits so close my cries are practically deafening.

Because you know, I know better. I know He will never leave or forsake me. I know He is closer than my next breath. I know He holds me and has me engraved on the palm of His hand. That we need not ever fear because He is with us.

Somehow, that head knowledge doesn’t save me in some moments though. I, like the woman at the well, make Him spell it out. Desperate for Him to show me that He is right there – that if I had a supernatural snapshot of where I’ve ended up, I could see Him here with me.

Recently, the prayer that keeps saving me from myself is, “Lord, reveal yourself to me. Show me You.”

I am continually struck my Moses’ plea before the Lord, “Show me Your glory.” Please Lord, show me Your glory.

My cry is that He’d be near and I wouldn’t just intellectually know that He is near, but I would experience it. I’d experience Him. In all the ways He shows up. In all the ways He never leaves my side. That I’d know Him so well. That I’d live so close that I get to reflect His glory.

You are near O Lord.” Psalm 119:151

Praise Him, He is near.

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