Christ and His Beautiful Bride

Wedding Rehearsal

The string trio set their bows to the strings and began the prelude as a holy hush gathered in the sanctuary of the 98 year old presbyterian church building. Grandparents and parents were seated first, and then bridesmaids and groomsmen. Turning my head toward the back, I caught a glimpse of the bride, the music changed, the congregation stood in awed respect to honor the bride as her father escorted down the aisle and gave her away to the groom.

I have been to countless weddings through the decades, mostly because my dad was a pastor and as a family, my sisters and I were always eager to attend yet another glorious marriage ceremony as we daydreamed of what ours would be like one day. This afternoon, as our dear friend gracefully and gloriously walked down the aisle with her father, the thought that came to mind was how glorious and beautiful Christ sees His Bride, the Church.

His Church, the people the Father has given Him, through no merit or effort of their own, have been chosen by God, before the foundation of the world, before literally anything was created into existence. His Church past, present, future, contains millions and millions of redeemed sinners, saved by His own sacrifice, to make them whole, healed, forgiven, redeemed. He makes His Church beautiful by giving her His own goodness, not of their own doing, but by unmerited favor poured out upon them and in them through the outpouring of His Holy Spirit into them, as He regenerates their souls and makes them a new creation in Christ.

As a congregation, we sang the song, Yet Not I But Through Christ in Me. Entering into this song of worship took this group of people into a moment of musical praise to our Lord Jesus whose presence was honored and invited and felt. A wedding is a picture of Christ and His Bride, the consummation of the ages, the glorious end to which we travel in this world, and yet what lies beyond this is more than we could ask or imagine. It will truly be the beginning of endless days of praise, goodness we have so long waited for, truth that heals all the lies we have believed about ourselves and others, and beauty that shines from the face of Jesus Himself, a beauty that outshines all others.

Will the world learn this? Will they hear these truths and turn to Him who so longs for them to know Him? Now is the time to turn your heart to Jesus and look into His wonderful face. Look at your groom! He comes for you, dear Bride of Christ.

Listen to this beautiful hymn recorded by our sister church in Washington state, by dear friends of ours:

The Church’s One Foundation, by Christ Church Bellingham

Photo from Unsplash

His Yea, My Amen

Painting by Lucy Bacon

““All little miniature beginnings but all ‘beautiful in their time’, like the dark green August oranges in the court below. The fact that they have got thus far into being is more than a promise. Like all the promises of God they are (given the conditions) an accomplishment begun. His ‘Yea’ only waits our ‘Amen.’” ”

— Lilias Trotter, 11 August 1906

Ten years ago, I shared with my husband how I longed to write a blog again. I had been out of the practice for a few years, and once our fourth baby was beginning to toddle around our apartment and master every barrier we tried to use to contain him in manageable areas of the home (he was very determined to catch up with his sister and brothers), we were preparing for a move across the country to attend seminary and pursue further ministry. One thing I had put on the shelf for a while was writing, but I was sensing a need to practice this refreshing and creative work once again. I wasn’t ready to write publicly, but my husband encouraged me to start a blog and just write for myself and him until I was ready to share my words with others. So I did. I began Every Morning New Mercies.

On this 10 year anniversary of my writing home, we have now moved geographically twice more, planted a church, and dwell in a land that I compare to Frodo’s Shire, with Rivendell not too far away. In celebration of the gift this blog has been to me from my Lord Jesus, and the joy of so many words written, I have decided to: first, start a Substack; second, tell people about it(!), third, pray and dream and consider what the Lord would have me write.

What you can expect monthly…

In a busy season of raising teens and tweens, church planting, and beginning a piano studio at home, you can expect two monthly pieces posted on Substack and here on the blog: one where I write a brief essay on a topic I am passionate about, and one post sharing quotes from the reading I have done that month combined with beautiful images I find.

Subscribe to Every Morning New Mercies
on Substack @everymorningnewmercies

Nothing will change here. I have never had a subscribe button because I haven’t been able to figure it out (!) or wanted to pay the fee for one, however, one of the perks of a Substack is not only the community it brings to my writing, but it also provides me with a subscribe button (for those who have the Substack app). But if you are a reader who prefers to just pop on here whenever it suits you best, and you’d rather not be notified, I totally get it, and I welcome you here. With the addition of a Substack, I am folded into a community of like-minded writers, authors, readers, and artists (all of whom love Narnia & Middle Earth, so I’m in good company)!

With all that said, I think a Substack and a subscribe button will help my writing get out to more people, Lord willing, to bless them.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope it is a blessing.

Gathering Gardens of Words ~ March

One of my blueberry bushes awakening to Spring.

The gate of Spring has lavishly swung open and welcomed us into its joyful cadence. I noticed the first clues last week on a walk as everywhere around me, burgeoning buds of green emerged from branches ever so cautiously. Cows arrived in fields, baby goats and sheep lay in pastures of sunshine, and birdsong was heard in bushes and trees as I meandered past. Of course, the familiar dog friends came running out to bark uproariously as we passed by quickly on the other side of the road. At home, I moved my outdoor plants back to their stations, hoping they survived the winter. Day by day, I gave a passing glance at the branches to see if anything was happening, and it was. Marvel reawakened in me as it does every Spring. You’d think after forty-six revolutions of the Earth around the sun, I would not be surprised anymore by the seasons changing, but each turning of the season brings a fresh delight to my soul. I hope that I will never lose that wonder, even when I am eighty years old.

We entered Holy Week at our church this past Sunday, led in worship by the younger members of our congregation, waving palm branches, the older kids guiding and carrying the younger ones during the first hymn. With pure joy, we were led into this most important of weeks in the Christian calendar, led by children and infants to worship the King. It was a fitting start to this week of joyful illuminating hope and celebration of the victory of our King over the sin and death of this dark world.

This month, I’ve gathered some words to share with you, some beautiful words that have watered my soul and nourished my thinking. I hope they bless anyone who is reading today, that these words point you to the Creator, the Savior, the Risen King, Jesus who sits this very day on His throne. May you know Him more deeply today than ever before.

Photo by Blake Verdoorn on Unsplash, Multnomah Falls, Oregon

“Joy being of God was a living thing, a fountain not a cistern, one of those divine things that are possessed only as they overflow and flow away, and not easily come by because it must break into human life through the hard crust of sin and contingency. Joy came now here, now there, was held and escaped.”

― Elizabeth Goudge, The Dean's Watch

The Good Shepherd, by I. Lilias Trotter

Beneath Thy Cross

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon--
I, only I.

Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.

-Christina Rossetti

Photo by Alexander Ramsey on Unsplash

“And Christ’s life indeed makes it manifest, terrifyingly manifest, what dreadful untruth it is to admire the truth instead of following it. When there is no danger, when there is a dead calm, when everything is favorable to our Christianity, then it is all too easy to confuse an admirer with a follower. And this can happen very quietly. The admirer can be under the delusion that the position he takes is the true one, when all he is doing is playing it safe. Give heed, therefore, to the call of discipleship!” - Søren Kierkegaard, Bread and Wine, Readings for Lent and Easter

Blossom in the Desert, I. Lilias Trotter

“Oh, that we may learn to die to all that is of self with this royal joyfulness that swallows up death in victory in God’s world around! He can make every step of the path full of the triumph of gladness that glows in the golden leaves. Glory be to His Name!”

― I. Lilias Trotter, Parables of the Cross

On the First Day of Autumn

On the first day of Autumn, I sit here at my computer, surrounded by our homeschool curriculum, my second cup of coffee, one sweet 6 year old boy sharpening his pencil and trying to make it as small as possible, while listening to piano music by Franz Liszt in the background and the remaining fragrance of a green tea and bamboo candle puffed out hours ago.

On the first day of Autumn, my 12 year old runs upstairs gleeful to make a batch of espresso cupcakes, the same ones she made this past weekend for a bake and craft sale with a friend. My 3rd born is now sharpening pencils too and my 2nd born is most likely running in and out of the house enjoying this sunny day.

On the first day of Autumn, we celebrated Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’ birthdays and read chapter four of The Fellowship of the Ring this morning! My daughter finished her online writing course, Writing with Hobbits, and her violin lesson. In a few minutes, we will drive out into the country for our son’s guitar lesson. Its been a long time since I’ve written on my blog and I have so many things to update. I hope you find this update a refreshing glimpse of light in an otherwise very dark world.

The first thing I want to share is that this past winter, before our monumental move across the state, before the wildfires that swept through the west coast, before the pandemic and Covid-19, Wildflowers Girls Magazine published my interview with a dear friend, Rebecca Giles. She serves as a missionary in St Andrews, Scotland. I would be honored for you to check out this interview in the winter issue of Wildflowers Girls Magazine!

Secondly, Deeply Rooted Magazine published an article I wrote on evangelism. In their Summer 2020 magazine issue, you can find this piece where I share my passion for evangelism and what God has taught me through the years. This magazine print issue was very timely in its publishing as my husband and I are church planting in the Pacific Northwest. While at seminary several years ago, I audited a few courses by Professor Jerram Barrs. I learned so much from him, including his heart for evangelism. I was thrilled to be able to share some quotes from his book, The Heart of Evangelism.

Thirdly, our family made a huge transition in moving across our state this summer. My husband finished a two year church planting residency, and we moved several hours away, over the mountains, across the desert to a town where we lived years ago. It was a joy to come back to this city, to put down roots, and begin our church plant. The Lord has gently led us, faithfully calling and preparing the way for us to follow Him in what He is doing. “He Leadeth Me” was a hymn I framed and placed on the wall beside our door in the house we lived before our move. Our daily prayer was that Jesus would lead us. Walking this road has been an act of faith. It has been an act of obedience and dependence on our Good Shepherd. He has been faithful in every step as He leads us in His will. We kept asking the Lord to show us His will and make the path clear. One step at a time, he has done this very thing. Jesus never promised that it would be an easy road, but his very name is a promise of his presence with us forever. The name, Yahweh, reflects his covenant promises of his eternal presence with his people. There is no valley he will not go with us.

Our world is still suffering from the coronavirus illness as it continues to spread. Our community is no longer a hot spot for infection like it was in summer, and for us, life is mostly back to normal in our day to day routines. The wildfires that plagued the Pacific Northwest have mostly dissipated in our area and the smoke has cleared, revealing the beautiful blue sky and green orchards on the hills. I am homeschooling and was deeply encouraged by Sally Clarkson’s recent Awaking Wonder online conferences. I listened to her podcasts a lot this summer as I painted many walls at our house. She was my companion as I sweated under the heat and work of renovation, and sipped my sweet iced tea! In all the suffering that our world has endured this past year, I am reminded of God’s goodness and faithfulness to accomplish all his holy will. He knows the number of our days, and the work that He has prepared for us to do. Our hope is in him. So, we carry on in the simplicity of joy, the quietness of confidence in His strength, knowing that when we suffer, we do so with a divine gift of joy entrusted to us who are His people.

He walks with me.

Wildflowers Magazine - Fanny Crosby

Growing up, our family went to church services twice on Sunday. One on Sunday morning and once in the evening. The evening service started at 6:30pm and often included either a hymn sing, a missionary presentation, short sermon, or perhaps a visiting choir performance. My grandparents came from a culture and time when music was woven into the fabric of their daily lives and worship. Almost everyone could sing and harmonize. Everyone knew all 8 stanzas to every hymn and the voices blended upward into a unified chorus of passionate proclamation. I remember hearing one story of a group of Mennonites who were fleeing Eastern Europe in the early twentieth century. The group was waiting on a train platform. Fearful and tired, they began to sing the hymns of the faith. These hymns gave great depth of comfort as men, women, and children sang songs that spurred on their faith and gave them hope. We are called to speak and sing truth to one another, at all times and in all ways, giving glory to our Father in Heaven.

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.
-Colossians 3:16

I would sit in church on Sundays in the second or third row, on the right hand side of the sanctuary. I clearly remember holding my hymnal and flipping through the pages, studying the words, the names of authors, and finding hymns based on certain topics. It all intrigued me very much. Songs like Be Thou My Vision, Fairest Lord Jesus and The Old Rugged Cross became oases of living water.

Countless hymns settled into my heart, and laid a foundation of sacred music that shaped and formed me. One of the names that appeared frequently was the name of Fanny Crosby. Others were Isaac Watts, William Kirkpatrick, Frances Havergal, Augustus Toplady, Robert Lowry, Charles Wesley, and John Newton.

When praying about who to write about for the summer issue of Wildflowers Magazine, I decided to read about and research Frances Jane Crosby, otherwise known as Fanny Crosby. There are many things that stand out to me from her life.

The first is that she had a loving mother who had to raise her on her own as her father died shortly after she was born. With a supportive family, her mother received help from Fanny’s grandmother in raising her. There were many people who helped to educate her, especially since she was blind and at that time, there weren’t many educational opportunities for the blind. Her mother and grandmother, and others who came into her life nurtured her in God’s Word and in a warm and loving home. From Fanny’s mother’s example, I see a commitment to training her child to follow God. Fanny’s story wouldn’t be the same without her mother, Mercy, and grandmother, Eunice, teaching her diligently to know God in His Word.

The second thing that stands out from her life is that she was eager to serve the Lord. As a child, she asked the Lord if there was some work that he had for her to do. It seemed she always had faith like a child. Surely, God used her weakness as her greatest strength, and through it Fanny depended on the Lord. Although she was well known as the Blind Poetess throughout evangelical Christianity at that time, she regularly went to prisons and shelters to tell small audiences about Jesus, the Son of God. One could walk into a gathering of the “undesirables” of life and see a little, old woman, wearing a black dress and holding a black book, speaking about God’s love, grace, and forgiveness. She quietly served, taught and loved those who were not lovable, and she showed them the depths of God’s love for each of them.

It will be amazing to see one day, the masses of people who were brought to Jesus through her humble hymns.

My husband and I are part of a collaborative music group called Gateway Hymns. While reading and researching about Fanny Crosby, I thought how wonderful it would be to record some of her hymns as part of this written biography. So with some friends, we recorded this short album, The Songs of Fanny Crosby. (There are only three on the album, but she probably wrote over 9,000 throughout her lifetime!) You can download this collection at www.gatewayhymns.bandcamp.com, The Songs of Fanny Crosby.

To read a little about Fanny’s life, you can check out the summer issue of Wildflowers Magazine!