The Zigzag Ways of God’s Blessing – A Guest Post From Anita Mathias

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 9 Comments

Some days the writing and blogging world seems so very small. Today is such a day. I am delighted to have Anita Mathias guest posting at my writing home today. Anita lives in Oxford, England and blogs at Dreaming Beneath the Spires. Our paths have crossed in the past couple of years by way of  blogging communities we are connected to. Anita has just returned from a mission trip to Cambodia. (The details of which I look forward to hearing soon.)You can find her on Twitter @anitamathias1.

Anita is the author of Wandering Between Two Worlds (Benediction Classics, 2007). She has won a writing fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts, and her writing has appeared in The Washington Post, The London Magazine, Commonweal, America, The Christian Century, and The Best Spiritual Writing anthologies.

Anita lives in Oxford with her husband and daughters. You may also find her on Facebook at Dreaming Beneath the Spires.

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Welcome Anita, who writes of hope, trust, faith and encouragement. It is a pleasure to have her gifts and her heart here today. And her words penetrate my soul today with  especially well-timed
words.

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The Zigzag Ways of God’s Blessing


Joseph had a rarefied spiritual gift: God spoke to him through his dreams, and he could interpret the dreams of others.

In the night, which belongs to the Lord, he sees his sheaf stand upright while his brother’s sheaves bow to it. He sees the sun and moon and eleven stars bow to him.

He understands that he is destined for eminence.

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And what should the career path of one destined for eminence look like? 

Joseph is thrown into a cistern, sold into slavery. He faces humiliation and obscurity.

Was his dream delusory? Had God abandoned him?

Nope.

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“God was with Joseph,” (Gen 39:2) we are told, “and he prospered.” “The Lord was with him and gave him success in everything he did.”

The blessing on Joseph spreads outwards. “The Lord Blessed the household of the Egyptian because of Joseph. The blessing of the Lord was on everything Potiphar had, both in the house and in the field.”

And so the career of Joseph progressed from strength to strength

Nope.

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He had proved his resilience. He had proved his integrity.

He now had to be moved upwards from a comfortable small position to a position of greater influence.

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Dick Woodward,  pastor of the church I attended in Williamsburg, Virginia, said that the way God moves you on is a kick from behind and a pull from in front. ( And I think it’s best to stay put where you are, whether at church or work or city or neighbourhood until you sense the kick and pull.)

Potiphar’s wife provided the kick with her false accusations.

And ironically, Joseph was kicked upstairs into the social circle of those who personally waited on Pharaoh.

If anyone had the right to indulge in self-pity, it was Joseph in the dungeon, cast there for his righteous choice.

But dungeon was his means of elevation, the pull upwards.

While Joseph was there in the prison, the Lord was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favour in the eyes of the prison warden. So the warden put Joseph in charge of all those held in the prison and he was made responsible for all that was done there. The Lord was with Joseph and gave him success in whatever he did. (Gen 39: 21-23).

He interprets dreams in prison, but with slight cockiness. Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell me your dreams. (Gen. 40:8)

He asks the cupbearer to remember him, but with self-pity. For I was forcibly carried off from the land of the Hebrews and even here I have done nothing to deserve being put in a dungeon.

He has yet to become the steady luminous man whose eyes are on the Lord, who sees everything in life as coming to him mediated through the Lord’s hands, because the Lord permitted it; who knows that the Lord could make him fruitful in the land of his suffering (Gen. 41:52), and turn what his enemies meant for evil into good (Gen. 50:20).

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Another two years alone in the company of the Lord in the dungeons, and he will approach the interpretation of dreams with humility.
Pharaoh: ” I have heard it said of you that when you hear a dream you can interpret it.”
“I cannot do it,” Joseph replied to Pharaoh, “but God will give Pharaoh the answer he desires.” (Gen. 41)
His eyes now fixed on God, Joseph is able not only to use his administrative gifts wisely, but also able, remarkably, to forgive his brothers–thus helping to save many lives.

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I would have expected the life of someone chose, blessed and anointed by God to be marked by happiness, success, prosperity and protection.

And Joseph’s life was ultimately marked by all of these things.

But not all the time.

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His life teaches us:

Nothing can stop you doing the work which God has called you to do.

God may have a beautiful plan for your life, but other people may throw you into a well and sell you into slavery.

You will rise.

You may do your job brilliantly and be slandered and thrown into prison.

You will rise.

You may comfort and help people with your words, but in their season of power they may forget you until it’s convenient for them.

But still you will rise.

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When will you rise?

In God’s time.

When you let go of bitterness, perhaps. When you forgive. When you realize that all things come from God, your gifts, your health, your wealth, your freedom, your intellect, your very life.

Then you will indeed have grown into your destiny. You will have become worthy of it.

You will have become one who can “save many lives,” (Gen 50:20).

Here – A Guest Post, A Poem, Holly A. Grantham

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 10 Comments

 

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I am honored to have my poet friend Holly Grantham guest posting here today. She and I have been friends through poetry, writing and blogging and have even partnered together on a poetry series entitled Adagio: A Poetry Project. Holly and I played with words on the page from miles upon miles apart, penning three poems. (The offerings in this series may be found at the end of Holly’s guest post). While the project is on a pause of sorts, Holly’s words continue to bring me joy. She is an artist and crafts beautiful poetic prose and poetry.

In her poem entitled Here, Holly’s words sing of her unique perspective on this life. And yet we hear, feel and even crawl into the space Holly inhabits. Holly invites. She delights. And her art is extraordinarily crafted.

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Here

I’m cooking dinner and
only because the days are getting longer
does the light still filter in
through the clouded window that
needs replacing
The pane is nearly opaque
but not muddled enough
to keep my eye from catching
the fluttering of a bird at the feeder
repositioning himself
to find more seed

While I cut broccoli
the baby sits on the counter
flapping his arms
like the bird outside
screeching with glee
drool dripping like honey
from his mouth
the bud of a tooth peeking
out from swollen gums

I set down the knife
and sip my wine in the pause
while through the tilted glass I can see
the edges of the room stained
crimson and swirling
catching light
glowing

Floating atop the life noise
clattering within these walls
a quiet song sways with being here
now
and I freeze
because something down deep
is stirred and righted
and in a twinkling the words of
Buechner that I read earlier today are
tangible and throbbing
framing the moment
as miracle

I’m remembering now
how every morning
glory pools in my lap while I’m
nursing my babe
legs crossed and warm
eyes still drowsy with sleep
and I’m afraid I miss it most days
in the wanting something more

I look back out the window and
the light has dimmed
but is tinged with orange now
the bird has gone but
the baby shouts a loud hallelujah
and I turn to him
his eyes flickering candles
Yes
I am here
now

 

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Holly pens beauty at her writing home A Lifetime of Days . Follow her on twitter @HollyAGrantham .

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Adagio: A Poetry Project is currently comprised of three offerings. The first, entitled Writing Across The Distance may be found here, the second entitled Black Night Of Hope may be read here and the third Les Mains

A Sea Of Humanity

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

sunset over jeremy creekA Sea of Humanity

I dreamt I dove into the sea
Amid a throng of voices
Singing wild and free
Where echo upon echo of happy
Babble broke
Rippling wave on wave from lip to lip
I closed my eyes
And drifted off into the dream

Each scene appeared as memory
Of years before
Where nothing changed
Yet everything had
And you were there
And you were too
I turned off my light
And sailed off into my daydream
Or was it night
I was not sure

The fog rolled in
Then out again

The sea was calm
The sun was out

And redemption played
A symphonic and melodious song
(Does it know any kind but this)

Of this and that
Of years ago
And days before
When Winter’s blues
Were providing cover
Before the days when
Spring crept in
And drowned out
Winter
With her love

I was there and so were you
We swam in calm and peaceful
Seas
Of friendship
In an ocean wide and free
Made of all
Humanity

You were there
And so were you
And I was too

I dreamed I dove into
The sea of greens and blues
Of foam and salt
And crying gulls and diving pelican
I floated on my back
And sang a song of
Coming back
My eyes were closed
But not my heart

I heard you whisper
Welcome back
Into the calm
No longer raging seas

Of humanity
Wave on wave
Of grace
We swam, together
You
And me

Into the deepest part
Into the depths of our
Humanity
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On Mondays I am with Laura #AtTheWellspring

 

Ode To A Two Hour Lunch

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

wpid-20140207_144631.jpgOde To A Two Hour Lunch

Tell me how it is
And why it is
That we ever arrived at
The drive-by lunch
Through windows for ordering
Past windows for grabbing
In lines and by speakers
And change dropped and left
At the last window on the
Left
Always

Tell me how we ever evolved
To a primitive way of eating
In our laps and on the run
Chewing
At the red light
Swallowing whole halves of
Meals
Not taking sodium laden small
Bites of
Food
And is it still even food
At all

Come with me and sit
Then linger
With napkins and conversation
Raise your cup to your
Lips between words of
Living life
Sip
Cool water wiggling between
Cubes of ice and wedges of lemon
Sliced thin where yellow fades
To ombre shades
Of citrus, pale to bright
The rind a reminder
To live on the outer edges
Of civilized dining
Not on the thin line of
Fast and furious
A dollar and sofa change
Does not a real meal buy

Laugh between bites
And nod your head
Hear and listen, listen and respond
With words
Lick your tongue along
The rim of your salty
Mouth and retrieve the remnants
Of seasoned scallops seared
Cut slow in quarters
With a knife and fork
If you remember
How
And pause
Before you place the tip of a wedge
Of pineapple
Sweet and pungent
Juice runs
Between your teeth
And gums
And you squeeze and suck
Every bit of juice
From this golden yellow
Fresh fruit
Swallow, breathe and speak
Of the book
You are reading and the one
Lying in wait
And the one due any day from
Amazon
And the one you are writing
And the one about which you are
Still dreaming
And you pause
And breathe
And choose between greens
And another sip of soup

This is communing
This is a feast
This is your living breathing
Ode to slow

While you listen to her tell
You a story
Or two or more
As you linger and beg
The waitress to kick you out
If you have stayed past closing time
Which you have
But there is grace and you
Are welcome here
Where lunch and life
Are slow
And you are surrounded by those
Who know the art
Of

A two hour lunch
Oh that we would
Slow
Down

The bowed head
The table and chairs
The knife and fork
These
Symbols of a life
Slowed

An ode
To a two hour lunch

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Joining the folks at Tweetspeak Poetry as we explore the “Ode