Trust Me

Now Jesus, going up to Jerusalem, took the twelve disciples aside on the road and said to them, “Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and to the scribes; and they will condemn Him to death, and deliver Him to the Gentiles to mock and to scourge and to crucify. And the third day He will rise again.” Matthew 20:17-19

I wonder what the disciples thought this time when Jesus foretold of His death. Undoubtedly sorrow. Did they notice His last words, “And the third day He will rise again,” and feel a surge of hope? Or were they oblivious? Jesus predicted His death so specifically – He would be betrayed to the chief of priests and scribes; He would be condemned and mocked; He would be scourged and crucified; and finally He would rise again. Who else would have dared to make such claims? And what did the disciples think about it? Did they trust and believe? Or did they doubt and wonder if He spoke the truth?

And what do I think? What is my response when God tells me something?

Anything is possible with Me.

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

I want you to do this.

“What? Me? No way!”

Yes.

“God, You don’t understand. There is no way I could ever do that.”

Oh, ye of little faith….

Jesus’ prophecy about His death came true. If such an amazing thing as that could happen, then why should I doubt what He tells me?

I’m calling you to this area.

“Whoa. Wait a minute, God; that is way out of my comfort zone.”

So?

“So, I really don’t think I can handle it. It’s, well - - it’s way over my head.”

Don't you remember that what's over your head is under My control?

“Yeah, but….”

But, what?

“I just don’t think that I can do it.”

*sigh* When will you learn, Lauren? You aren’t alone in this. I’m with you every step of the way.

“Yes, I know.”

Then why don’t you act like it?

“Ouch.”

Well, isn’t that the truth? You know the facts; you know the truth. But you don’t live the
truth.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way before.”

No, I know you hadn’t. But now I’m going to ask you something else. Do you believe that everything I say is true?

“Yes, God; I do.”

Everything?

“Well, yes.”

No doubts; no qualms?

“No, God; I completely believe that Your Word is true.”

Then why do you doubt that the words I speak to your heart are any less true than the ones I have written in My Book?

“Oh.”

Don’t you see, Lauren? What I say to you is truth. If I call you to go somewhere and do something, I’m not joking. And do you seriously think I’m going to dangle a tantalizing opportunity in front of your nose but just of out of reach; stand back and say, “Go for it,” and then watch you struggle in vain to get there? For pity’s sake, Lauren, I’m not heartless. I think you should know that by now. If I want you to get somewhere, I’m going to give you the means for doing so. I don’t care if it’s going to college, counseling at camp, writing a novel, learning how to cook, riding in the Olympics, or trudging through a foot of snow to do extra chores – if I want you to do something, then I am going to do all in My power to make sure that you can do it. But you have to trust me, Lauren. I can’t do a thing if you refuse to trust Me.

“Wow. That’s convicting.”

It is, isn’t it? But do you understand now?

“I think so.”

You have to quit hanging on for dear life to what you think you know. I know a lot more than you do. So trust Me. Let go. Jump – I promise I’ll catch you. Close your eyes, take My hand, and follow Me – when you open your eyes again you won’t believe where you’re at. Stop worrying and fretting; those poisoned arrows of the Enemy are just going to mar you heart. I’m Your Shield, you know. Don’t forget that. I am the impenetrable Strong Tower. When life gets to be too much for you to bear, hole up in Me and I will comfort and tend you – I am the Healer too, if you’ll remember.

Lauren, will you trust Me? I know you’re afraid, but you don’t have to be. If you trust Me, then I guarantee that you’ll find all you’ve been longing for. Joy. Peace. Love. Acceptance. Satisfaction. Contentment. A life beyond your wildest imagination. Just trust Me, Lauren. Trust Me.

The Hand of God

“Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God.”

I stand before You, hesitant, unsure, self-conscious, and frightened. You stare deep into my being, and You smile at me. Then, You offer me Your hand. I stare in disbelief. You, the mighty King of all Creation, the Prince of Peace, the Ruler of All, are extending Your hand to me – a lowly, simple, sinful, seemingly insignificant little peasant girl. I look into Your eyes. Do You really mean it? Do You honestly want to take my hand? Or will You cringe and pull back as soon as You touch my filth? Will You lead me for a little while, only to desert me on the wayside when a higher calling summons You?

I stare into Your eyes – the deep, understanding, loving, honest windows to Your soul. The question is burning in my heart: “Can I trust You?” You say not a word, but Your eyes say it all.

“Yes.”

I reach out and timidly press my hand into Yours. You close Your fingers around mine and a current of love runs from Your hand, through my arm, and to my heart. I gasp at the incredible feeling. Mixed emotions fill my soul. Will You keep holding me or let go with a final squeeze? And yet I am trembling from joy and exhilaration.

I am touching the Hand of God.

I look into Your eyes again and wonder, “What next?”

You smile, squeeze my hand, and lead me along a path. Your hand – so scarred, so perfect – encloses mine. And I know that You will never let go.

Never. Never ever ever.

I am Yours for always.

Were I to Die....

Unfathomable. Unsearchable. That’s who my God is. My God beyond all compare. My God who is greater than all.

Why is it that on occasion I am suddenly filled with a deeper understanding of WHO God is? In all His power and might, I am suddenly astounded by His greatness. His power, wisdom, love…beyond all comprehension. The way He reaches out to me. Just the simplest thought that He puts within my mind; and then the sudden revelations that He jars me with. Like this story idea. “Were I To Die….” Is that truly what He wants me to write about? Can I do the story idea justice? Somehow, I believe that I can. Not on my own power, but through His strength. By His wisdom, imagination, and guidance, the story can actually come alive through my ink.

I was pondering tonight, what if I were to die today? Or tomorrow? What would people remember? Would they know how much I love them? Honestly, this puts a whole different perspective on life. Every moment counts. If I were to die tonight, would I have truly given my love to others? Why miss a moment to show another just how much you care? Even if it’s something as simple as a note, or a smile, or those three cherished words: “I love you.”

Were I to die tonight, God, what would I leave behind me? What would people remember when they heard my name, or saw my picture? As the funeral took place, what would be on their minds? The good? The bad? The sorrows? The joys?

What have I left behind me? What can I leave behind me each day to change a life? Is that not our purpose? Perhaps I am not gifted in many areas. Perhaps I am not a popular girl who has a lot of influence, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t make a difference in somebody’s life. Just a listening ear, a laugh, a hug…what does it matter as long as it helps to make life better for somebody? That is the purpose of my writing. That is the purpose (or it should be) of the things I do, of the words I say, of every single part of my life.

It’s not for my glorification or praise, but so that people can truly see Christ through me. Can they see His love? His joy? His concern and care? Can people see Christ through me? Can they see how He has impacted my life in such a way that I want to reach out and touch others with His love?

Oh, glorious future that awaits me! What do you hold? I know not how long you may last, but I do know that I want to use you wisely. Perhaps tomorrow is my last day…I am not afraid to die, but I have no desire to leave behind me a forgotten trail. I want people to know how much I love them. I want to make a positive difference in their lives. I want to live and communicate in such a way as that I would die with no regrets.

Were I to die tonight....

To My Shattered Heart

Dear Shattered Heart,

Yes, I feel you. Your shattered ache penetrating every part of my chest. I remember the one night when I felt your tendrils of pain creep all the way into my fingertips. Sheer agony. But at least then I knew why I hurt. Tonight, I can only wonder. And ponder. And write.

Why do you hurt? Is it for him? Surely not. You desire to hear from him, but you do not doubt his faithfulness. There is something deeper, that not even a letter from him could soothe. Something beyond his love and care.

Perhaps it is because of HIM. The one true Love of your life. The Ever Faithful, Ever True. Do you remember what words I spoke just a few nights ago? The words that supposedly came straight from my heart - from you? "When we come to God, we find true life. When we discover that gift, we treasure it. Finally, we pursue the opportunities to live for Christ in all we do. Only then can we be wholly alive. Only then can we truly live as God has destined us to live."

Are you crying out for Him? All the pangs, all the distraught worries of life have accumulated. You have found life, and you treasure and pursue it. But what about the harsher facets of life? Along with the joy you have discovered the terror and horror. Inadequacy. Fear. Pain. Remorse. Regrets. Tears. Death. Bitterness. And now you cry out, for you have no where else to turn. You want to talk; you wish you could, but how? And to whom? Nothing is exactly wrong, so how can I say it is? And how am I - are you - to express that which I do not fully understand myself?!

Turn to God, O Shattered Heart. For He understands all. And when I lay you down before Him - when you pour out your contents upon His altar - that staggering burden is lifted. Peace is restored. Hope rises. Joy flickers into a tiny ember. Confidence may not return in full force; in fact, you crawl to God like a little child. Yet you know that you are safe. After being batttered by the storms of this life, you find solace in "the shadow of His wings." You are like a child who, frightened by the raging thunderstorm, curls up and sleeps in peace within her mother's arms. Comforted. Loved. Healed. Soothed.

Have your walls come down now, O trembling heart? Has your barricade dissolved? In the presence of an all-knowing God, they are quite pitiful. He knows all. And more than that, He understands all. So let Him enter as the Victor. Surrender to His love - it is a sweet surrender. And then, O Shattered Heart, find yourself remade. Without a crack or fracture, and stronger than before. Made whole. You may still feel incomplete, but find satisfaction in Him who supplies that which you do not have.

Do not cry, my Shattered Heart. Do not let the pain consume you. Turn to Him. Go to Him. And place your beating, throbbing, bleeding, broken self within His hands. And He will heal your wounds.

Sincerely,
Your Lauren

Who I Am

Who am I? No, I am not in a depressed, melancholy mood. But this is a question I need to ponder and consider. For who am I? What is my identity? Without an identity, I have no purpose; then I am only a flitting shadow.

But I am someone. I am who God made me to be. But who is that? I must ask “who” and desist asking “what.” I must stop asking “what” I can be and instead ask “who.” For “who” is personal and alive; “what” makes me sound like a robot. And if I am only a robot, what motives do I have to attain those “what’s”? They seem impossible; they are unattainable, unyielding set standards. And if I am only a robot, then I am exactly as I am and there is no hope of becoming more.

But it is not a question of “what”’; it is a question of “who.” It is personal. I can make the choice; I can grow; I can strive. Most importantly, I – the living, breathing, feeling I – can hope and desire. “What” is out of reach, but “who” is not.

It takes an active decision and effort on my part. God is beckoning, offering, calling – but I must accept. He can only come as far as the cross. I must meet Him there.

Sometimes the “who” does seem beyond my reach. Consider Psalm 15. This is who I should be…who I can be…who God wants me to be. But how can I be? It seems so far-fetched, so unrealistic. I can never be so perfect. I can never meet those standards.

That does not mean I cannot try.

God knows we are not perfect. He knows we cannot attain His standards on our own. But He also does not expect us to. That is why He met us halfway; that is why He provided the cross. He picks up where we can go no further; He fulfills the requirements.

There is hope. Through a personal relationship with Him, by being alive in Christ, I can be the “who” God has offered me. It may not be now; it may not be until I am in heaven, but the “who” is attainable.

So who am I? I know that I do not yet qualify for Psalm 15. Therefore I have not fully become who I could be. And yet, I am who I should be. For I am one who is striving to be all that I can. I am one who stumbles and falls. I am one who repeatedly hits the chutes rather than the ladders. But I am still the one who has met Christ at the cross. I am the one who has the hope to be more than I am. I am not the godly character of Psalm 15, and yet with God’s personal, living, soul-felt help, I can be.

Because I am in Christ – truly, deeply in Him – who I am, is enough.

Letter to John Eldredge for a LAL Competition

Dear Mr. Eldredge,

In the snowy driveway of our twenty-acre parcel of mountain land, I gazed at the thousands of stars shimmering in the somber winter night sky. As I shivered in the darkness, a rhyme drifted into my thoughts: “I want to touch the stars tonight, but I can only reach so far; the chains that bind my heart, keep me from the nearest star.” I stayed in the yard until my toes began to feel numb despite the heavy winter boots I wore. I turned away with a sigh and trudged back to the house. The stars were always flickering beyond my reach.

Or so I thought.

I believed that my deepest longings were exactly like those beautiful stars – they could never be fully attained. My secret hopes were, to me, stunning and utterly breath-taking. I was enraptured by them; my heart would soar whenever they crossed my mind. I would wish with my entire heart that dreams could come true. But brutal reality insisted otherwise. Life chided me to cease chasing after shooting stars and come back to planet Earth. After all, I did have a respectable future with which to be concerned. Graduation was coming in the spring, and college looming on the horizon. Forget what my heart was urging; bury my most fantastical desires.

It was at this point in time that I read Dare to Desire. Although I had been greatly affected by your book Epic, I had no idea of how Dare to Desire would touch my heart. I did not realize how it would change my outlook on life.

In Dare to Desire, you posed a question that made me stop and reread the passage. You asked, “If you could do what you’ve always wanted to do, what would it be?” I can still remember the surge of exhilaration I felt when I read that question. “Anything?” my heart asked. Your book assured me, “Anything.” I knew the answer. I would write – novels, stories, articles, poems, and letters – all for the pure joy of writing. I would play on the heartstrings of my readers; I would inspire them in the same way that I myself had often been inspired. Oh, the pure elation that coursed through my body at the mere thought of this dream! But then I hesitated. Was it possible? Could my desire become my life, or would it remain a haunting pastime which would beg for more attention than I could ever give it?

“It is possible,” Dare to Desire whispered. “If you only dare to desire; if you only dare to follow your heart; if you only dare to accept the adventure God had placed before you.”

My heart came alive within me and I knew my answer. All the passion I had buried burst out in a flood of hope. I would dare to desire.

I have realized that life holds unlimited potential and promise if I follow God’s plan and the deep desires He has set in my heart. For these desires are not fantastical whims, but the foundations of promising goals. Life is giving me an opportunity to follow my heart. Is it dangerous? Certainly, and I know I will probably have more than one agony along the way. But if I have faith in God to carry me through, and if I trust that He will give me “the desires of my heart” as He has promised, then the rewards will outweigh all tragedy.

I have discovered that dreams do come true. I know that desires can be fulfilled.

Tonight, I can touch the stars.

Sincerely,

Lauren Bryan

Finding Tyler

“Tyler is missing again?” I snarled. Jinx, my buckskin Quarter Horse, pricked his ears at my tone and I took a deep breath to calm my anger. “What happened this time?” I asked Jess.

My younger sister had been waiting in the barn for me to return from checking cows on the north pasture. I was drenching wet from the thunderstorm and the news about Tyler did little to improve my spirits.

“We don’t know for sure, David. He was here at lunch and then I couldn’t find him about an hour later. When I went to look for him, Sadie was gone too,” Jess explained, nervously twisting a piece of straw.

Wonderful. Our ten-year-old cousin Tyler, seven years my junior, had been sent out to our ranch for “summer vacation.” My personal opinion was that his parents were fed up with him. I would have been too. After all the havoc he had caused at our ranch in the past month, I didn’t know how I could endure his antics for the rest of the summer. Now he had disappeared yet again, and with the only other horse on the home place.

“Here we go again,” I muttered. I swung onto Jinx’s back and adjusted the reins. Regardless of Tyler’s behavior, I knew I had to find him before night fall and the bitter mountain air closed in on the valley.

“I’ll be praying,” Jess promised. She didn’t meet my gaze, but worry shimmered in her eyes. Jess had always been more patient and loving toward Tyler than I could be; I merely attempted to tolerate him.

“We’ll be back soon,” I assured her. She offered a weak smile as I rode back out into the ranch yard.

I could tell Jinx wasn’t too impressed with the idea of rejoining the downpour. His ears were flat and I felt his back humped beneath my Western saddle. “Look, buddy, this wasn’t my idea of how to spend the evening either. But the faster you help me find your friend Sadie, the sooner we’ll be back home,” I coaxed. Jinx stamped a hind hoof. Obviously, he was in no mood to be pleasant.

I pulled my hat down against the driving rain. It would be no use trying to track Sadie in this weather. So where would Tyler have taken her? On second thought, Tyler didn’t know very well how to manage a horse so he probably would have been more apt to let Sadie do the leading. Which meant, of course, the lower meadows behind the ridge, Sadie’s favorite place on earth. I touched Jinx with my heels and he broke into a reluctant trot.

We reached the meadows with little difficulty. Jinx knew the path as well as I did and the worst part was Deer Creek, which had swollen to twice its size but wasn’t much of a challenge for my heavy-boned ranch horse. We plunged through the creek and loped into the meadow. With dusk having fallen, I could only see by flashes of lightning or bits of moonlight that managed to penetrate the thick cloud cover.

“Tyler!” I shouted. “Sadie!” Jinx suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, nearly throwing me over his shoulder. He lifted his head to the wind and snorted in the air before releasing a welcoming whinny that shook his entire body. Another whinny replied in the distance and Jinx jumped toward the sound. As we sped across the meadow, I saw Sadie’s palomino color dimly advancing like a ghost. When we met, Jinx and Sadie rubbed muzzles while I cast an appraising glance over Tyler, who was shivering on Sadie’s bare back and clutching her mane.

“You okay?” I asked. I did my best to be sincere and hide the annoyance I felt. Tyler nodded. He was shaking from limb to limb and his eyes held the terrified look that a rabbit wore when caught in the talons of a hawk. I couldn’t help but pity the sopping wet city kid. “Come on,” I said, “let’s go home.”

Jinx and I trotted back across the meadow with Sadie following closely. The storm was abating, but the creek, rushing madly down its bed, loomed before us. Jinx forged across it, but when we reached the other side, Sadie was still dancing on the opposite edge of the creek, terrified of the swirling waters.

“The water’s too fast!” Tyler wailed. “She won’t go in.”

“Give her a kick,” I shouted over the noise of the creek. “She needs to be encouraged.”

“I can’t! We won’t make it!” Tyler screamed.

“Yes, you will,” I shouted. “Come on, Tyler, you can do it.”

“No, I can’t!”

Jinx struck the ground with a hoof and jangled the bit. Frustrated, I slammed my heels into his side and sent him back across the creek to Tyler and Sadie.

“Look, Tyler…” I began, every trembling muscle in my soaked body ready to give him the tongue lashing he deserved. But I stopped, the words tainting my mouth. Tyler’s shoulders heaved with every gasping, sobbing breath.

He was crying.

I was dumbfounded. Tyler – the secure, egotistical braggart – was weeping.
I was seeing a Tyler that I had never known existed.

I swallowed hard. Suddenly I didn’t feel like unleashing my wrath on him. Actually, I couldn’t even say that I felt angry anymore. I was sympathetic. And ashamed of my own behavior.

“Tyler,” I crooned, using the same voice I used when gentling a young colt, “slip on behind my saddle. Jinx will take us both across and Sadie will follow.” Tyler raised his head and sniffed with tear-filled eyes. I sidled Jinx closer to Sadie. Tyler managed to wiggle on behind me. His arms gripped around my waist as he snuggled against me.

“Okay?” I asked. I heard a muffled “yes” in reply. “Hang on,” I instructed. Jinx splashed through Deer Creek and eagerly pranced toward home. Sadie whinnied frantically before bounding through the creek and galloping after us.

The barn was a welcome relief from the damp night. I dismounted and helped Tyler, stiff and cold, to the ground. You get inside and warmed up,” I urged. “I’ll be inside after I take care of the horses.”

Tyler looked up at me, his eyes tired and bloodshot, his blond hair matted into clumps and corkscrews. He threw his arms around me to hug me. Surprised, I almost pulled away, but then relaxed and massaged his back.

Tyler sniffed. “I love you, David,” he whispered.

I tensed at the un-masculine emotions Tyler’s voice evinced in me. But I swallowed my pride and answered through a tight throat, “I love you, too, Tyler.”

I truly meant it.

The Ride

“I knew I shouldn’t have eaten breakfast this morning,” Samantha mourned as her stomach roiled tensely.

“If you hadn’t eaten any breakfast, you wouldn’t have had enough energy to ride well today,” Aunt June replied practically. She finished netting Samantha’s thick brown hair and tenderly straightened the velvet bow holding the net in place. “There now; stand up and let me get a look at you.”

Samantha’s English riding boots clicked the floor of the trailer dressing room as she stood to face her aunt. From her tan jodphurs to her tailored riding jacket, she was the pristine model of an English equestrian. Her trembling hands grasped the velvet-covered hard hat, and her eyes glowed with an invincible eagerness.

Aunt June’s studious face softened into a smile. “You look beautiful. You’ll do fine today.”



This was the first time Samantha had ridden her new Dutch Warmblood, King, in a jumping competition. It was also the first time that she had competitively jumped fences over 3 feet tall; the highest one today was 3 feet 6 inches.

“Samantha Blewitt to the ring, please; Samantha Blewitt on King’s Ransom,” called the announcer.

Samantha’s gut tightened as she nudged King with her heels. “Good luck!” Aunt June encouraged warmly.

As she rode into the ring, Samantha instinctively touched the cross pin on the lapel of her coat. Her mother had taught her to pray before every ride, whether competing or practicing. “God, be with this ride. Keep King and me safe,” she whispered.

Gathering her reins, Samantha asked King to canter a circle before beginning the course. The first jump was a gate, which King easily cleared. Then an oxer, followed by a water jump. Samantha began to relax as she felt King’s stride beneath her. He soared over the two double jumps and then a stack of golden straw bales. The crowd cheered as horse and rider successfully completed the triple jump, which had been causing a great deal of trouble for other competitors.

Only the brick wall remained.

As it loomed before them, Samantha trembled. It was a massive jump, and she had rarely jumped its height even at home. King, sensing her fear, hesitated and flicked his ears. “God, please, help,” Samantha whispered desperately. God’s words to Joshua drifted into her mind: “Be strong and courageous.”

Samantha lifted her chin, readjusted her reins, and squeezed her legs around King’s barrel. He responded with long, powerful strides, followed by a tremendous leap. As they soared over the wall with inches to spare, the audience cheered ecstatically.

Samantha rubbed King’s glistening neck in praise as they left the ring. Then her eyes lifted to heaven and her hand once more touched the silver cross. Oblivious to the applause and excited shouts of the crowd, she whispered, “Thank You, God.” A warm, contented smile crossed her face.

It had been a wonderful ride.