You might remember every August Echoes of Grace goes on vacation. This is our cabin remotely tucked in the Wet Mountains where Bill and I will be living this month. We call it our Sanctuary. I’m trusting this poem will describe our days.

The Gentle Yoke
Stillness and simplicity create
Anticipation highlighting the
Nearness of God. His
“Come to Me” invitation offering rest with the
Time to respond, to enjoy, to soak, and to
Unplug (mostly). Once again the
Adventure of
Refreshing, of rejuvenating, of recharging, of experiencing the gift of the gentle
Yoke of Jesus.

The very first week of September I’m flying to Harvester Island off the coast of Kodiak Island in Alaska for a week of writing training with Leslie Leyland Fields. A big plane to Anchorage; a small plane to Kodiak; a bush plane to Harvester. YIKES! Yup, I’m excited and a bit nervous.

So Echoes is taking a bit of an extended break this year. I plan that it will return on Thursday, September 16. Mark your calendars.

SURPRISE!!! In two weeks, on August 19, a few brief words will give you a glimpse into our (my) Sanctuary Time. I hope you’ll mark your calendars and come by.

 

Copyright, Sue Tell, June 2021

One Thursday evening in writing class we were given the prompt feet. These are the words God brought. A light-hearted post with God-sized thoughts. Enjoy.

 

My youngest grand, precious Leah is just discovering her feet. Shod in white lace ups they take her places leaving her hands available to grab a homemade cookie off the kitchen table. I love watching her tenuous steps. Holding my hands out and inviting her into a hug, her steps quicken.

“Not yet Leah. Walk, don’t run. Gramma will wait.” But Leah tries to run. Oops!

She crosses the rest of the distance on her hands and knees scuffing the white toes of her new shoes.

 

My great grandma wore black lace-ups with just a bit of a heel, old lady shoes. They offered stability as she went about her day. Function over fashion.

Mom scorned old lady shoes and into her 90s wore stylish footwear appropriate for her day’s activities. I remember watching her descend the stairs holding my breath. Fashion over function.

I’m my mother’s daughter with a bit of great grandma in the mix.

“Mom, p-l-e-a-s-e, can I have new school shoes, the kind without laces?”

My eight year old me already noticing. Comparison starts young and sometimes is initiated by looking down at my feet. I perceived shoes as the ticket to where I wanted my feet to go.

Fashion over function.

Then the bunions and the botched surgeries. God intervened. Function taking first place.

“He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.”
Psalm 40:2

About the same time as those bunions, God was whispering something else. Truths about my identity. Those feet he knit together in my mother’s womb were about to take me in a new direction, what they were shod in not all that important.

“You make known to me the path of life:”
Psalm 16:11

My path of life was not dependent on the shoes I wore, or even on my feet.

Summer, 2010.

“Honey, I’m thinking about starting a blog.” Me to my husband.
“No-one wants more grandma stories.” My husband to me.
“That’s not what I want to write about. I want my words to be a ministry to women.”

Echoes of Grace was born with my feet well hidden beneath my desk, probably wearing athletic shoes. Function over fashion.

“The church of which I became a minister
according to the stewardship from God that was given to me for you,
to make the word of God full known,”
Colossians 1:25,  the scripture I pray for Echoes.

I was not an English major in college.
I don’t remember wanting to be a writer.

Winter, 2021.

We’re returning the rental car after our two week vacation.

“Sweetheart, I’ve made two big decisions on our trip.”
“Oh?” I heard his question in the one word.
“I’m going to get serious about writing my book.”

My path is taking a new turn.
My feet are walking in a new direction.

Looking back and looking down, I see how my feet defined me.
Looking forward and looking up to God, I see how he is leading me.

In John 13, Jesus serves his disciples by washing their feet.

“If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet,
you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”
John 13:14

I pray that my written words will serve those who read them as Jesus served by washing feet.

And as Leah grows, I pray that she will follow her feet on the path that God has designed for her.

Copyright, Sue Tell, June 2021

We’re going through a mammoth bedroom swap at the moment. In a house we fill to the brim, at points this week it has felt as though we’re trapped in a giant game of Tetris, trying to work out where all the stuff can go. One particular cupboard has been requisitioned for a different use, and as such our generous collection of odd-socks and auxiliary pack of toilet rolls now find themselves homeless, bereft, and of no fixed abode. I’ve been mulling over these items all week, wondering where their new dwelling place could be. There’s nowhere obvious, so I’m facing the possibility that these ordinary household items may live in a state of perpetual disarray. It might not seem an obvious connection to make, but somehow these items in their state of perpetual disarray have spoken to me of the dis-ease we feel as humans with the guddle of our internal worlds. Further to that, how our drive to ‘sort ourselves out’ can lead to a small life, sapped of hope, where self-awareness is king. It’s something that’s especially obvious in younger people, perhaps in their twenties, who spend a fair amount of time and attention trying to work out who they are, and what they’re good at. Some of it softens as the decades go by, but the desire towards self-improvement or self-actualisation is common throughout the ages, especially in the West. Picture in your mind the rows of self-help literature you find in bookshops. Once relegated to the backwaters of psychology, in recent decades these books are now increasingly mainstream. The attention-grabbing titles lure us in to the idea that freedom and fulfilment come from working on your issues or owning your story. We are also drawn towards any of the gazillion personality profiling polls that promise, through self-analysis, new levels of understanding and flourishing. ‘Your unique set of letters hold the answer to every single question you’ve ever asked about yourself!’ (Disclaimer: I actually love all this stuff) But….. What if our enthusiastic drive towards self-knowledge is a thinly veiled attempt to be the masters of our own condition? What if all this self-improvement isn’t spiritual transformation, as we like to think of it as, but rather yet more human endeavour to work our way towards flawlessness? For, of course, if we achieve balance and inner harmony by ourselves, then functionally we have no need for God. There are parts of us that will always be akin to odd-socks. And we won’t know what to do with them. We feel apprehensive and frustrated at the mis-aligned parts of ourselves, the bits of us wounded by life or ‘glitched’ from birth. Or, in the opposite vein, we deny them altogether, intent on getting pretending everything is A-okay. Either way, it’s natural that we seek hiding places for these awkward parts, they’re uncomfortable; we feel shame. But what if our state of perpetual disarray wasn’t a problem to be solved, or even something we need strive to put words around, in order to understand? What if our state of perpetual disarray was in fact the very optimal state, the only state, in fact, that can lead us to a state of perpetual dependency. We all, 2 Corinthians 3:18 says, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. We only come to understand who we truly are as we turn our gaze off ourselves and onto the One in whose image we are made. Only the Lord, through the Spirit, can transform us, heal us, strengthen us and grow us. Only the Lord, through the Spirit, can bring the freedom to get past our jaggedy edges and mis-matched parts. It is his work, not ours. We are his, not our own. When we’re in charge of our own self-improvement, there’s pressure. We need to evaluate how well we’re doing, often reliant on others to give us the feedback we crave. If we relinquish ourselves to the Lord, in all the wondrous mystery of our clutter-filled selves, we’re released from that burden. We’re able to live free from the determined drive to fix ourselves (and others perhaps). We’re free to live in the fullness of hope. Not just hope that one day my temper will be subdued (although I do hope for that), but a life-enriching, expansive hopefulness that hopes in something far far greater than my own inner-equanimity. And so rather than being frustrated with the parts of ourselves that we don’t quite know where to place, may these inner odd-socks serve to remind us that our state of internal disarray isn’t to be feared, or sorted, rather submitted. For dependency is the only place disarray can really call home. Still don’t know what to do with the socks though. Thank you again to my friend Ros Boydell for sharing her wisdom so creatively. Besides appreciating her message, I always love learning new words, like guddle meaning “in a state of confusion or disorder …” (Dictionary of the Scots Language). Ros and her family are on Navigator staff and live in Scotland.

May your unfailing love REST upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in You.

Psalm 33:22

Many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord’s unfailing love SURROUNDS the man who trusts in Him.

Psalm 32:10

“God sent me a treasure of encouragement this morning, a gift designed to turn my heart toward Him and I am still stunned by its simplicity and potential for transforming this day from the mundane into the majestic.

The means by which He delivered this treasure reminded me of the priceless gift of covenant community experienced when God’s women gather. Last night I enjoyed meeting with our Bible study small group. I soaked up the words and insights of my sisters as our leader guided us deeper into the truths of Psalm 32. We were daughters of the King enjoying a family gathering as we considered this “letter” from our Father. What difference would this study of confession and repentance make in our lives?

This morning I began working through our next assignment, Psalm 33. I picked apart the first few verses:

Sing joyfully to the Lord, Praise the Lord with the harp; make music to Him, Sing to Him a new song; play SKILLFULLY; SHOUT for joy.

Psalm 33:3

The rest of the passage declared multiple reasons for me to joyfully proclaim with music, my words and my life, the goodness and unfailing love of God. And there it was, that treasure of encouragement that helped turn my heart toward Him in a new way.

May your unfailing love REST upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in You.

Psalm 33:22

I turned back to Psalm 32 and read:

Many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord’s unfailing love SURROUNDS the man who trusts in him.

Psalm 32:10

Ahh –  God’s love RESTS on me; SURROUNDS me.

Have you ever watched the colors of a sunset spread out like multiple cans of spilled paint? In that moment this morning, that’s how God’s love looked to me. I pictured a bucket of God’s deep, pulsating passion for me, His daughter, resting on my head. Then with a smile, in a surprising move, He tipped it over and covered me, surrounded me with love that is unfailing, steadfast.

How do I take this moment into my day, I thought? I pictured the waiting tasks: a doctor’s visit, errands, time with some of our grand-kids, laundry, cleaning, preparing a meal for a friend. I started imagining how an intentional recognition of God’s surrounding love could impact my response to the needs of the day, my interaction with cashiers and the doctor’s staff, and our grandchildren or unexpected phone calls or emails. How could this treasure of encouragement from God Himself make me more like Jesus in my response to others?

My day looks different than it did a few hours ago because I’m more aware that God’s love rests on me and surrounds me. I plan to look for evidence of that love wherever I go. I have a feeling I may be challenged with difficult circumstances, perhaps an irritating person, disappointing news, a conflict – only God knows (Psalm 33 reminds me of His sovereignty and that He considers everything I do). This treasure of encouragement is equipping, enabling me and exhorting me to look for His love in those challenges, and then to display that love no matter what.”

—————————————————————————————————————————

Sharon’s words so encouraged me a few weeks ago, God’s love both rests on me and surrounds me, that I knew right away, I wanted to share them with you. You can find more of Sharon’s wisdom on her daily blog at https://markinc.org. Click on Resources and then Daily Treasure. FMA (Far More Abundantly),
sue

 

Black-capped Chickadees are my favorite birds. They are so friendly and nosy. They bounce toward the bird feeders like tiny Tiggers in the Hundred Acre Wood. They communicate with up to sixteen different calls, making these North American forests ring with their chatter in any season. After I fill my feeders, Chickadees are the first birds to feed. Soon cardinals, woodpeckers and all kinds of finches follow these entrepreneurs of the neighborhood.

I heard the “dee-dee-dee” in the distance this morning on my walk. I wasn’t feeling particular chipper. I missed our great dane, my walking buddy. He got violently sick a week ago, and we decided to have him put down. He was over eight years old, a ripe age for a dane. When I came across Thor’s giant paw prints in the mud from the last time we walked, I felt a deep sadness. Other waves of sorrow hit me. The loss of a good friend after Christmas, the breast cancer diagnose of a church member, and relationship issues among people I love dearly, all added and fed my tears. My boots hung like heavy weights around my ankles as I drudged through the last bit of ice on the path. Then, I did what I do when I don’t have answers, I talked to God about it. I asked him what I ask him on so many walks,

“Father, help me to know you are here. I don’t want to leave without your blessing.”

Again, I heard the Chickadees in a nearby tree and remembered I had a little sandwich bag full of black oil sunflower seeds in my pocket. I had actually returned to the car earlier to get it. During the long winter months, I often grabbed a handful of seeds and left them for the birds and other critters in the woods. Today, when I heard the Chickadees, I had a better idea.

I took my smartphone out of my coat and searched for Chickadee calls on the internet. Within a few seconds, I played back a call to the couple of feathered friends nearby. I noticed a wooden fence along the path and put out a few seeds along the narrow plank. Then, I filled up my hand with seeds, steadied it on the fence, and waited. Within a couple of minutes a Chickadee hopped along the wood, ignored the few seeds I had laid out, and jumped right into my open palm.

I was ecstatic and held my breath. My new friend took a seed and sat there for a few seconds, looking at me with black, beady eyes and a cocked head. He flew off only to repeat the process two more times. His petite body hardly had any weight to it. His feet were like the tiniest twigs, tickling my fingers. I wanted desperately to pet his downey feathers. How could this beautiful creature be so bold to trust me? We, two different species, both created for a purpose, suddenly connected in this gentle moment. I can’t adequately describe what happened in my heart. One thing I knew, it was a beautiful confirmation of my prayer. It was an unexpected, giant blessing. It felt as if God spoke tenderly to my heart, showing me his creation in a new and lowly way.

God truly sees and knows. He cares for the bird. But how much more does he care for man, who seeks him with all his heart and waits and listens intently in expectation. (Matthew 6:26)

“Call to me and I will answer you,
and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.”
Isiah 33:3 (ESV)

Words and Pictures compliments of Heidi Viars. For more of Heidi’s writing, www.heidiviars.com. You’ll be glad you did.

Being a bird watcher too, Heidi’s words immediately connected with me. Go back and re-read her last three sentences (I bolded them), the blessing of truth.

A similar title caught my eye recently as I thought about this past year and the pandemic we’re hopefully coming out of. Am I languishing in my time with God, or am I lingering and enjoying his presence?

I’ve shared before, I start each morning with sitting and staring, with quiet, listening, lingering. It readies me to read; it readies me to hear; it readies me to connect; it readies me for whatever the day may hold. Unless it doesn’t.

Lingering with God and his creation has been a spiritual discipline I’ve practiced for several years. But it was slipping.

What has changed? Why is this very good habit not quieting my heart, feeding my soul? Why is it suddenly hard? Are you noticing a difference in your times with God?

The pandemic affected me more than I realized.

I didn’t need to adjust to working from home — that was my norm.
I didn’t need to adjust to home-schooling — our nest is empty.
Ministry looked different — but ministry was happening.

But there were minor (at least that’s how I described them previously) changes creating new normals, normals with sizeable outcomes. Cyberspace instead of blacktops or planes soaring through skies connected me to others. I’m actually connecting with more people than before. True, but is that good?

Screen-time became common and perhaps too easy.
Grand-kid connections switched to Marco Polo and Google Hangouts.
Groceries were ordered on the small screen of my cell phone and picked up without ever leaving my car.
Church was online, in my pajamas with coffee in hand.
Ministry was by Zoom.
Texting passed along quick and easy answers.
Echoes of Grace supporting my ministry became my ministry life-line.
Group emails became normal, relating to many at once.

Then it happened one day — one morning really. My website crashed. Google wouldn’t let me in to my email. Mailchimp suddenly didn’t recognize me. I crashed too — my lifeline had been snapped.
And I thought back over the past 15 months, those long pandemic days.

At first I couldn’t comprehend Covid’s reality. Did we really need to close schools? Did we really need to hoard toilet paper and joke about its shortage?

At first I kind of enjoyed screens dominating my Sunday morning. I could attend my church and within an hour transport myself 1000 miles away and listen to my son preaching at his church.

Then came summer.

We moved to our Sanctuary, our small cabin in the Wet Mountains. Our Sanctuary is designed to be a time, a place of recharging and refueling. My cell phone still delivers emails, texts, and an occasional phone call. But my computer is okay with not being fired up daily. (At our Sanctuary, it is rarely fired up.)

I shifted into Sanctuary mode. It was good. It felt normal. I donned my mask for the weekly grocery trip because I actually went into this store for our bread and meat and weekly connection with other real live people.

In the fall I picked up where I left off. My computer once again a lifeline (see the paragraph that starts with the word screen-time).

In January we took a two-week island vacation. My computer stayed home; even my cell phone was quiet with the exception of its camera. Every morning I sat outside with my Bible and my journal, lingering with God. Listening to the sounds of creation, experiencing the warm breeze, loving the view. I especially loved spotting a Bananaquit several different times.

We returned home and I returned to life as I knew it the past 10 months.

But I began sensing a difference. Lingering with God wasn’t happening quite so much. Perhaps languishing, that feeling of stagnation and emptiness, was a more correct adjective.

The time at our Sanctuary and our January vacation were reprieves and they were good. But those brief weeks did not counteract the many weeks and the many reasons for screen-time.

The pandemic affected me more than I realized. Lingering was stunted. It became too easy to do life from my desk, and my desk called to me everyday.

Seeing those words together, languishing and lingering shocked me into realizing. Caused me to remember what I was missing. Lingering invited me to return.

“For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel,
‘In returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.'”
Isaiah 30:15

How did the pandemic affect you?

Copyright, Sue Tell, May 2021

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Something different from Echoes of Grace this week. My friend Janet Newberry was a guest on the weekly Trueface podcast last month. It just might be the best 30 minute investment you make in your day today.

A few of my notes to whet your appetite …

How God sees me is not the same as how I see God.

When I aim at performance, my maturity is stunted. When I aim at trusting relationships, performance is off the chart.

Love is not an emotion; love is a commandment.

And so much more!

The link is below in the comments.

For me personally, the teaching of Trueface has transformed me. Or rather, meeting God through the ministry of Trueface has transformed me! It is my privilege to walk with my friends through their 10 week video course, 10 brief video’s with conversation starters. We do it on our own time. Might you be interested? Check it out here, https://courses.trueface.org. The Relational Journey, Behind the Mask.

Here’s Courtney’s words after we finished the course.
“Walking through Beyond the Mask with Sue was an answer
to prayer that I hadn’t known to pray. Though much of the
content was not new to me, the presentation of it paired
with the discussion questions encouraged me to engage
with it in a deeper way. Being able to share this journey
with Sue has been a gift during a time I have needed it
most.”

 

Copyright: Sue Tell, May 2021

 

 

 

 

 

I just checked my blog.
Nope. No little bell going off.
Then I checked my Facebook.
Nope. No little hearts for likes.
Then I checked outside.
I found hundreds of both.

Father, forgive me. I often chase the empty, short-lived praise of man, when your word to me is love.”
~
“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man?
If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
Galatians 1:10

 

Poetry and Pictures, compliments of Heidi Viars.

Heidi is a new friend I’ve met through my writing class. She blogs at https://heidiviars.com. I’ve been so blessed by her words. I hope you’ll click over to her blog and be blessed as well!