Christian devotionals

Mourning Turned to Joy*

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Photo by Mihail Tregubov on Unsplash

John burst through the door of the cabin. His voice rising to a high pitch, he yelled as all eyes turned toward him. “Gord, your house is on fire!” Everyone leaped up and headed for their vehicles. It was almost midnight but the sky was lit by an eerie glow. Gord and Wendy had built their two-story log home only a few months before. It was their dream house, but the building wasn’t what they were thinking about as they sped toward the blaze.

They had left their twelve year old daughter at home, babysitting her three younger sisters. As they pulled into their driveway it was obvious they could go no further. The heat from the flames shooting high into the air, was too intense. They held each other and watched their home burn to the ground, hoping against hope that their children had gotten out. It was a full hour before they knew the fate of their four girls. Wendy later said it was the longest hour in her life.

Their eldest girl, Leslie, had woken to a strange sound. As she came wide awake, she realized it was coming from the chimney of their wood stove. By the time Leslie ran downstairs, the roof was on fire. She woke her sisters, grabbed their winter boots and coats and got them out the door. In -50 degree temperatures, she knew they had to find shelter, so she led the girls to a neighbour’s cabin. When Wendy and Gord were reunited with their children, all the possessions they had lost in the fire were irrelevant. Relief and joy spilled out in thankful tears.

Their girls were alive! Nothing else mattered.

Some 2000 years ago, a group of men and women gathered in a closed room, hiding. Suddenly some women burst into the room, yelling. “He’s gone, His body is not there. He is risen!” Unlike Gord and Wendy, the men and women in that room knew their loved one was dead. They had watched his agony and been there the moment he called out, “It is finished.” No wonder they did not believe what the women told them. Imagine their relief and joy when Jesus suddenly stood among them, dispelling their doubts, telling them not to be afraid. Imagine the tears of thankfulness as they realized that what he had foretold had come true. Though he had been crucified, he had been resurrected. As the truth dawned on the followers of Christ, all the confusion and sorrow was swept away.

Jesus was alive. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else matters. Jesus is alive, “and repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached in His name to all nations” (Luke 24:47). “Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God, through Him, since he always makes intercession for them. “

That is the joy of the resurrection, the joy that lives in the heart of every person who believes. It filled the hearts of those men and women 2,000 years ago and it will fill your heart today. Say yes to Jesus and experience the joy.

  • Excerpt from Marcia’s devotional book, Spur of the Moment, available from the author or on Amazon.

Daffodils and the Longings of Our Hearts

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Photo by Christopher Martyn on Unsplash

I purchased a bunch of yellow flowers yesterday. Those who decide where to put what in grocery stores must have lived in Canada during the winter. The profusion of daffodils placed at the entrance of the store were not only eye-catching, they filled me with longing for spring and a need to relieve that longing. I had a bunch in my cart before I even thought about the price or the marketing strategy.

When I woke up this morning, the buds that were just starting to open had bloomed, their bright yellow faces greeting me cheerily. Then I looked outside and groaned at the swirling snow and howling wind. These daffodils obviously did not come from any garden in Alberta. As I admired them, I thought of a friend of mine. She told me they were her favourite flowers because they are among the first to pop up when spring has arrived. She knows about longing for spring too. She too has lived in cold and desolate places where people are sustained by the warmth of friendships and dreams of sunshine. She too knows about longing for colour and fragrant winds and the smell of the earth. Daffodils are a sign that we will not always have to wait, that the longing will be satisfied with good things. They are a sign of hope, telling us to hang on, spring is coming. When blizzards are blowing, we desperately need that hope.

When the storms of life are blowing we are in desperate need of another kind of hope. When the ordinary cares of daily life swirl around us, we need to know that the goodness of God is enough. We need to believe He will satisfy the deepest longings of our hearts. The longing for spring, for beauty and for good things are only shadows of that deeper need, the need for spiritual satisfaction. In Psalm 63, David says – “My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (v.1). Then he declares – “My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you” (v.5). 

Nothing can satisfy that deep longing but God Himself. We can try to fill it will all kinds of “good” things, but that will only take the edge off, only satisfy temporarily. In the end, the longing increases. The daffodils on my kitchen table won’t really satisfy my longing for spring. As they die, they will only serve to increase it. The writer of Proverbs says – “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life” (Proverbs 13:12). The longing will continue until our focus is turned to the One who can completely relieve it.

Jesus promises to satisfy that longing. He longs to meet us, to draw us into a relationship that will ease the ache of being apart from Him. Let Jesus satisfy the longing in your heart. Meet with Him today.

Excited About this

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Coming Soon!

Last Minute Reminder for Writers

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Hello folks –

I’m writing to remind you about the Meet & Greet to kick off the Abundant Rain Writing Pilgrimage.

This is a last minute invitation, because the Meet & Greet is this morning, Saturday, February 3rd at 11:00 am MST (Alberta). There’s a Zoom link below if you’re able to come — no need to rsvp.

During the Meet & Greet, Marcia will talk about why she wrote the Abundant Rain devotional journals for writers, and she’ll lead you in a writing exercise.

We will give out some prizes

  • A small handmade book (crafted by Marcia)
  • A physical copy of Abundant Rain, volume 1
  • PDF of Marcia’s Spur of the Moment devotional book

Here’s the Zoom link. Hope to see you soon! https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87149524537?pwd=MW1aN3A3VkxJUE5hMjcvT25IOVhFZz09

​If you miss the live event, we’ll share a replay.

​This event will be plenty of fun on its own, but there’s more! It’s also a kick-off and info session about Marcia’s Abundant Rain Writing Pilgrimage that begins next Saturday (10th).

We have put together some discounted bundles for you. For those who register by end of day on Saturday, February 3rd and purchase one of the bundles, we are offering a free writing assessment. www.siretona.com/abundantrain​

Taking Time for a Pilgrimage

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Have you ever been on a pilgrimage? Dictionary.com defines it as “a journey, especially a long one, made to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion.”

The closest I’ve come to going on a pilgrimage was the trip my husband and I took to Israel some years ago. It was a time of soaking up the word of God while being in the very places where the events of the Bible happened. It was a stirring time during which I experienced several moments of ‘epiphany’ and insight.

I remember one day in particular. I was alone, having had to stay behind with an elderly woman in our group who had taken a bad fall. While she rested in her room, I took a walk along the shore of the Sea of Galilee and stopped for a while to read my Bible. I landed on the calling of James and John in Matthew 4. When I finished and looked up, the sun was pouring through the clouds, striking the lake with a glorious stream of light and I was struck by the sudden realization that the very words I’d been reading had occurred in that place. And the words took on a deeper meaning, a more clear reality.

Going on a pilgrimage is a very old concept, one that began centuries ago. Some trace it back as far as Abraham, who was charged by God to leave his home and travel to a far country. It is believed Christian pilgrimages to the Holy Land began as early as the 4th century A.D.

True pilgrimage is not just about travelling to a far-away place. I like what Brian Morykon, Director of Communications at the Renovaré Institute, said about it. “It’s a journey undertaken with a humble heart and with an openness to be transformed. The pilgrim isn’t trying to get somewhere as fast as possible. She wants to become someone along the way. She’s willing to linger, to reflect, to slow down.”

That is exactly what I hoped for those who would read Abundant Rain, my collection of devotionals for writers of faith. I chose Deuteronomy 32:2 as the theme of the book: “Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants.” It has become my prayer for all my work, and I hoped it would be so for readers of Abundant Rain, that their writing would flow out to their readers with refreshment and enlightenment that would cause many epiphanies.

Although a pilgrimage is and should be a deeply individual thing, it is usually undertaken with others, and for good reason. The Christian walk is not a solitary affair. It is meant to occur in community.

After a time of prayer one day, I began to ponder the idea that writing is not done in isolation either, as many might suggest. Writing is a communal effort toward wholeness, both for the writer and all those who assist her, and for the reader as she takes in the words and then puts hands and feet to them in the world around her. So I launched the first Abundant Rain Pilgrimage, that I might share in a pilgrimage of words that bring epiphanies, with others.

That first group was small but mighty, committed to the process and the goal of “becoming someone along the way,” someone refreshed and rejuvenated by drawing closer to Christ.

I’m excited to launch a second pilgrimage in the days ahead, using Volume 2 of Abundant Rain as the catalyst.

As often happens, God has encouraged me along the way. I opened my email the other day to find a message from Malcolm Guite who has written a wonderful book called Word in the Wilderness, which “introduces poems about pilgrimage itself and our life as pilgrimage.”

I leave you with a few words from the poems Malcolm chose –

“At length I go unto the gladsome hill,
Where lay my hope,
Where lay my heart;”

(The Pilgrimage by George Herbert)

“And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage
… My soul will be a-dry before;
But after, it will thirst no more.”

(The Passionate Man’s Pilgrimage by Walter Raleigh)

And some words from Malcolm’s poem, First Steps, Brancaster:

“This is the day to leave the dark behind you
Take the adventure, step beyond the hearth
Shake off at last the shackles that confined you,
and find the courage for the forward path.”

And finally, scripture:

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.”

(Psalm 84:5)

Here are the links you’ll need to participate in the upcoming pilgrimage for writers of faith, beginning July 3rd at 7:00 pm MST:

Would you join us? You can sign up here to receive your Zoom link. https://siretona.ck.page/journaling-pilgrimage​

During the pilgrimage, participants will read and write using Marcia’s book, Abundant Rain: A Devotional Journal for Writers of Faith, vol 2 (revised). Check it out here:

​Abundant Rain Devotional Journal Volume 2

Ready to set out?

Learn more and register for the pilgrimage here! https://the-book-hatchery.mn.co/landing/plans/278126​

Home: Is It Where Your Heart Is?

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A while ago our neighbourhood was turned into a beautiful winter wonderland. The temperature had dropped suddenly and for a while we were shrouded in thick fog. When that cleared, the sun came out and everything sparkled as though it had been painted with a fairy’s brush. The thick frost was dazzling. As I walked Livy that day I remember thinking,

What could be more beautiful?

I love where we live. It’s a quiet neighbourhood full of large trees, crisscrossed with walking paths dotted with boxes of doggie bags at strategic places. On a calm night we can hear the gurgling of the river behind us and the lights from the small town aren’t enough to block out the stars. Deer often wander up from the nearby woods and now and then a moose will jog down the street. I often fall asleep to the sound of coyotes yipping at the moon. Yes, I love it here.

But it’s not where my heart belongs.

My heart belongs in a faraway place that I’ve never seen, a place that, unlike our current home, can never be corrupted or destroyed. Matthew 6:19 & 20 says – “do not lay up for yourselves treasured on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal.” (ESV)

I thank the Lord every day for giving us such a beautiful place to live, but my true home is where my Saviour is, where my Heavenly Father lives. Remembering that truth keeps me from grasping for the eathly things that will fade away, rather than focusing on those things which are eternal.

Home. Is it where your heart is?

****

Letting Go and Holding On

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Photo by Meghan Schiereck on Unsplash

When we made the decision to sell our home our middle daughter, Laura, was living with us. She had come home from Bangladesh where she’d worked with a mission group for a year. She was excited when she realized we would have to pare down our belongings. Every day she would ask, “What room can I de-clutter now, Mom?” She’d grin at me. I didn’t grin back. I would remind her we had six months before we had to move. She’d laugh and remind me that we were moving from a five bedroom into a two-bedroom house. It was like a cold cup of water – thrown in my face!

But it was reality. My husband had convinced me to follow the advice of the realtors and renovate our home before putting it on the market. We tore down and built up, we ripped out and replaced. We even bought new furniture. The process was not easy for me. I resented and resisted all these changes. I confess I am a packrat and I tend to hold onto things a little too tightly. I had a hard time letting go. I felt safe and comfortable in the midst of my clutter, my own little nest, surrounded by all my things.

And Laura, dear minimalist that she is, set about enthusiastically deciding what had to go. The problem was, she was a little too enthusiastic and my husband was cheering her on! For the next few months there was a litany that sounded in our house. “Laura, what did you do with… Laura, you didn’t throw that away, did you?”

Then came the day I couldn’t find my favourite potato peeler. I didn’t care that the handle was cracked, it was my favourite! Laura had thrown it away. And I was upset. In fact I was downright angry. The potato peeler was the proverbial last straw. Nothing in my house was the same anymore. It didn’t feel like my home, my nest. It had been disrupted and I was disturbed.

I realized that day that I’d forgotten something. My reaction was disproportionate to what was happening. I told myself that it was only stuff, that I shouldn’t be so attached, that it was good to let go. But when you let go of something you have to find something else to hold onto. I knew what that something else should be. Or rather, that Someone. I knew I had allowed my identity to be wrapped up in a house and a lot of ‘stuff’ instead of in Jesus Christ.

I remembered the passage in Matthew, one my husband would half jokingly point me to – “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth …” (Matt.6:19).

I realized then I needed to not only reorganize my home, but my heart as well. I pray we can all let go of those things that don’t matter and hold onto the One who does.

I Want To Be Like Babe

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Photo by Danny Gallegos on Unsplash

The wrangler patted my horse’s neck. “This is Babe,” he said, “and she’s been trained as a cutting horse. Know what that means?”

I nodded. I’d seen cutting horses in action as they stepped into a herd of cattle, singled out a steer and manoeuvred it until it stood alone or was forced into a nearby shute. I knew cutting horses were trained to respond immediately to the rider’s cues.

Babe was definitely a cutting horse. The slightest touch of the rein on her neck made her respond, indeed, leap to respond. She almost put me off a couple of times, as we made our way along the mountain trails, but once I got used to her she was a delight to ride.

I thought of Babe one time, when I felt a nudge from the Lord. But I was busy that day so I ignored it. The next day I felt the push again, but again, I dismissed it. I’ll make the call later, I thought. But the days flew by. The nudge kept coming, so finally, more than a week after I felt that first prompting, I picked up the phone and called my friend. “Been thinking about you,” I said. “How’s life?”

There was silence for a moment, then a soft whimper. I heard my friend take a deep steadying breath. “My mom died a week ago.”

I groaned and expressed my sorrow. We chatted for some time and then said good-bye. “Thanks so much for calling,” my friend said. “It means a lot.”

I was so glad I’d finally responded to God’s prompting. But I couldn’t help but wonder if my words would have been more of a help if I’d called right away, on first nudge.

Lord, I prayed, make me like Babe. Make me willing to respond to your voice immediately. Make me as eager to obey as Babe was.

I want to be like David, too, as he says in Psalm 119:59,60 – “When I think on my ways, I turn my feet to your testimonies; I hasten and do not delay to keep your commands.”

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The Trickle of Time

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What lies beyond?

immo-wegmann-uV6PjZ6O1FM-unsplash

While watching a video recently and listening to this song I was struck by the image of that ancient tool of time, the hourglass. It made me sigh just a little, since I am not just “over the hill” but getting very close to the bottom of the far side.

And I have a friend who is dying. A friend who does not believe there is anything more than this life. He believes that when those last gains of sand fall into the receptacle on the bottom, that’s it. There will be no one there to turn the hourglass over so we can start again.

That belief saddens me deeply. Because I believe there is one who is waiting for us, a God who is monitoring the inexorable drip of the hourglass of our life, the one who will turn it over and open a new life to us, a life lived forever in His presence.

It makes me think of the place where I went to school, on the shores of a short strip of water called the St. Mary’s River. It joins two of the largest inland bodies of water in the world, Lake Huron and Lake Superior. The high school I attended stood on a hill overlooking that river and the locks that allowed huge ships to pass from one lake to the other. I remember staring out a window before classes began one morning and thinking about the courier du bois, those courageous explorers who paddled canoes from one lake to the other.

I wondered what they must have thought as they came to the end of Lake Huron. They had heard rumours that there was more beyond, (their first nations guides told them so), but I imagine they wondered. Could it really be true? Could there be another lake, larger and more wondrous than the one they had just navigated? I imagined their excitement and fear as they came to the end of the St. Mary’s River and saw that yes, it was true. Lake Superior lay before them.

Just as heaven will one day lay before those who have believed in Jesus, the Christ.

As someone who is getting closer and closer to that moment, I take great comfort in that promise. Unlike those explorers, I have no fear of what is beyond because Jesus has told me, “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” (John 14:1- 3, ESV).

It’s that last phrase that excites me but yes, makes me a little nervous, in a way. For how can I, one with so many faults and failings, come face to face with Jesus? But then there is another promise. “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.” (Romans 8:1,2, ESV).

Hallelujah! What a Saviour!

****

Thank you for taking the time to read. I invite you to follow me if you’d like to read more of my work about finding your way home, into the arms of Jesus. 😊 You can find me on Medium.com at Pond’rings and Words on the Wing and a few other publications along the way.

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The Power of Brokenness

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It happened the moment Jesus broke the bread

Photo by Robert Bye on Unsplash

It seems there were two men, two of Jesus’ disciples, who were deeply loved by Him. He loved them so much that he took the time to chat with them as they walked away from Jerusalem toward their home in a town called Emmaus. That would not have been particularly unusual, except that Jesus had been crucified three days before. The account of this story in the book of Luke tells us that the two men were “kept from recognizing him” (Luke 24:16), even as Jesus “explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself” (v.27). It wasn’t until they were eating with him that their eyes were opened and they saw.

It happened at the moment when Jesus broke the bread.

I don’t think that moment was a random act. I believe Jesus chose it to teach those two men something. I believe He was also teaching us something about brokenness.

The Psalmist David knew about brokenness. When the prophet Nathan confronted him about his sin with Bathsheba, David poured out his heart to God, acknowledged his sin and sought God’s forgiveness. He knew what was required –

“You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” (Psalm 51:16-17 NIV)

It’s not easy to think about that, let alone desire it. We don’t often pray, “Lord, break me.” We don’t often recognize that we are already broken people, damaged by our own sin. It’s common knowledge among those who work with alcoholics that they cannot be helped until they have “hit bottom.” Until they recognize their need for help they cannot change.

We are all in that place.

Until we recognize our need for God, for his mercy and grace and forgiveness, we cannot fix our brokenness. He is the only healer who can accomplish it.

Why brokenness? Because it leads us to our Saviour, to the one who loves us so deeply he takes the time to walk with us and reveal himself to us. He has broken the bread of his own body and offered it to His Father as a sacrifice to atone for our sins. He offers it to us. All we have to do is acknowledge our brokenness and reach out to take the gift that will give us complete healing in every way.

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Thank you for taking the time to read. My name is Marcia Lee Laycock and I invite you to follow me if you’d like to read more of my work about finding the extraordinary in an ordinary life. 😊 You can find me at https://medium.com/pondrings and https://medium.com/koinonia and a few other publications on Medium.com.

For more information about my writing/teaching/speaking ministry just subscribe to my newsletter, Home Words When you do, you’ll receive a pdf of one of my most popular short stories to enjoy at your leisure.

Blessings to you all! M