Skip to main content

Posts

Savor: Taste and See the Lord is Good

  Walking up the hill to the house after finishing a run, I mis stepped, and pain went shooting down my right leg. Being out of commission for the initial days and then weeks, months, and years of navigating the physical limitations of my body was hard. I was so accustomed to doing most things for myself and now I had to rely and depend on others to even do simple daily things of my work. I had to not run on automaticity of routine but focus and concentrate on what I could do within the limitations.    Just looking at me, you would not notice my injury and limitation unless I overextended myself. The impact of over doing it could last from hours to days to recover. At the beginning I resisted this new way of doing things and the changes I had to make in my daily life. The Lord used those times of recovery to slow me down, to rest, and to be more mindful of my needs, especially physical needs.    We were created to savor. Savoring slows us down. Savoring is givin...

April Newsletter

  SHANNON’S CORNER Be still. Be present. Behold. The prayer labyrinth is a journey that draws us closer to the heart of God with every step.  It’s a path where we listen, trust, and follow, knowing that He is always guiding us.  As we walk this path of prayer, we learn to recognize His voice, to lean into His presence, and to surrender to His direction.  It’s not just about where we’re going—it’s about who we’re walking with.  Lent this year has been a journey of walking inward toward the center of the labyrinth. Along the way, releasing my burdens to Jesus who is my beast of burden (Zec. 9:9), the One who carries what I cannot.  Arriving at the center, I find a resting place for my soul (Mt. 11:28-30) and resting in God’s loving embrace as He makes room for the new to spring up within me (Is. 43:18-19).  Now I’m journeying out of the labyrinth with the anointing of His presence and with an overflowing cup (Ps 23:5). Such an honor a...

A Long Walk Home

  It’s the day after the miracle. The tomb is empty, but life still feels uncertain. Joy has been proclaimed, but not yet fully grasped. The world has changed, but not everyone knows how to live in it yet. The in-between moment between revelation and understanding, hope and clarity, resurrection and recognition.   Two disciples, confused and heartbroken, walk a dusty road away from Jerusalem. They had hoped Jesus was the one to redeem Israel. But hope, to them, had died on a cross. Even though resurrection had already happened, they hadn’t yet perceived it. Jesus draws near, but they do not recognize Him. They speak of Him in the past tense, while He walks beside them in the present.   This is the grief of the liminal: the space between loss and new life, where we are not yet able to see what has already begun. But notice how Jesus responds. He doesn’t scold. He walks. He listens. He teaches. And then—He stays. He stays long enough for them to recognize Him in the br...