I sketched this simple picture with these words in my journal the other day...

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Walk with God move mountains.

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As you can see this is two short sentences combined...And that's exactly what God is teaching me.

GOD is the one who moves mountains.

And when I walk with him, he has the opportunity to move mountains through me.

Think of Moses and the Red Sea, or David and Goliath.

Who wouldn't want to be used in these mighty ways?

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But, let's flip this question to God's perspective. He asks each of us this question:

Who of you wants to walk with me?

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There is a certain man in scripture who said, "I do!"

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His name is Enoch. He has always intrigued me.

All we know about him is found in Genesis 5:24:

Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him.

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What did Enoch do in his lifetime? He walked with God.

Did he also do something as great parting a sea or slaying a giant?

We don't know.

But what we do know is what is most important: he walked with God.

Enoch's walk with God became his "mountain-moving-mantra."

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In our relationship, God is just as much concerned about the quiet waters and the green pastures

with us as he is about "moving mountains" through us. In fact, one begets the other.

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When we choose to walk with God at a slow pace, he restores us our soul.

He gives us his Spirit in full measure. He gives us his peace.

He gives us his power in our inner being!

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Let's be OK with lingering long with him in the hills and the valleys.

Let's not rush to get to the finished product, the high adventure, or the ultimate goal.

Let's refocus our gaze on our Savior who walks by our side with mercy and grace.

Let's relax.

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Life is in the moment, no matter how mundane or small it may seem, especially if you

are cherishing who you're with and saying a prayer over them at the same time.

Now that's power, both for both the present and the future.

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Let's be like Moses, and like David.

But let's also be like Enoch.

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Walk with God move mountains.

I needed a weekend to pull away.

It had been a month since my husband Mac and I received news via a family text from our son Davis. His wife Acacia, 36 weeks pregnant, had just had an ultrasound due to her not feeling the baby move for a little while.

The text read:

"Very sad news

Baby is stllborn

His name is

Brave Rutherford Baxter."

Needless to say, we were stunned. Acacia's pregnancy had been text book perfect. Strong heartbeat throughout for both Mama and baby. The news on October 20, 2024 took us all by complete surprise.

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I grieved for Davis and Acacia. I grieved for my other adult kids who were processing it all. And I grieved for us as a family. I was tired in every way. So, with Mac having plans to be out of town for the weekend, I seized the opportunity to grieve on a personal level. I kept saying to myself, "I need to go deep into the heart of God." Thankfully by God's grace, I was not saying "I need to go deep into the pit of despair."

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Over these two days, I took to the Lord, the painful memories of the first week that we spent with Davis and Acacia after receiving the tragic news. I asked the Lord to show me where he was in each of these hard places. I did not doubt his presence, but I just needed him to give me more clarity in some way, that even in the dark, his love was there.

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I will share one of many places that I brought to the Lord:

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My son Brent (Davis' brother) and I drove from Nashville to the hospital in Charlotte on the day Acacia was induced. (Mac would fly in later). My heart broke for her as she labored all day long. Meanwhile, we drove all day, having to take alternate routes due the Helene hurricane damage. My eyes kept burning from the mix of the bright sunshine on our windshield and my intermittent salty tears. My throat stayed tight with a ready sob at any minute. While we drove, Brent and I prayed for LIFE, believing in the Author of it. We hoped against hope that little Brave would "come out crying."

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We arrived around 9pm, just before Acacia delivered Brave. I tapped gently on their door, room 8611, and stepped quietly in. A curtain blocked my view, so I, with permission, peeked my head around it to let them see that we had arrived. The sight of these two, Acacia in the bed, and Davis by her side--somber instead of excited, sadness instead of joy, dark instead of light, was a weight of grief that I almost couldn't hold. I tucked it way down inside so it wouldn't buckle me right then and there. I needed to be strong for them. I lovingly waved my hand to Davis, nodded showing support, and stepped out of the room.

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It is this memory and others like it that I had to go deep into the heart of God and ask, "Where were you, God? Show me your tender love for these two. Where is your light in this dark place? Show me your glory."

His answer to me was this:

They were under the shadow of my wings. With these words, peace flooded in.

I looked up Scriptures that referenced God's people being underneath his wings, and there are many.

Psalm 57:1-2 is fitting for what was happening on October 21, 2024 in room 8611 with Davis, Acacia, and little Brave:

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"Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by."

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Yes, a dark storm was in that room. Destruction was present.

But so was God.

And God always has the final word.

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I know we are called to walk by faith, not by sight, but when I put the living Word into this scene, my mind's eye is able to see Jesus himself holding Davis and Acacia, with his loving arms wrapped around both of them. They were underneath his protective care. And his presence, his light, overcomes the darkness.

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I choose to no longer view this memory without the living Hope being present in the midst of it. Davis and Acacia, in their deepest sorrow, were being tenderly embraced by their loving Savior. And he holds the ultimate victory, life eternal.

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Thank you, Lord Jesus, for leading me to your healing words of truth.

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(Jesus) left Judea and departed again for Galilee. And he had to pass through Samaria. So he came to a town of Samaria called Sychar, near the field that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob's well was there; so Jesus, wearied as he was from his journey, was sitting beside the well. It was about the sixth hour. A woman from Samaria came to draw water.  John 4:3-7

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Have you ever felt unworthy? Unworthy of love? Unworthy of acceptance? Unworthy of forgiveness?

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The Samaritan in this passage felt this way. She was an outcast, coming to draw water from the well alone, apart from the other women who judged her for her wayward lifestyle. The woman was caught in a cycle of sin that she just couldn’t seem to step out of. Therefore, she wore shame as her cloak, every day.

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But then her Savior drew near. Scripture says, Jesus had to pass through Samaria. Why? Because he had a divine appointment with this woman. He knew the exact hour that she would be there so he planned accordingly. He knew everything she had done in her past and everything she was currently doing in her present. He spoke kindly to her; he spoke wisely to her; he spoke truth to her. He offered her life, True Life. Looking at the well that they were sitting beside, he said, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:13-14).

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And the woman, desperate for an escape from the repetitive cycle she was caught in, said, “Sir, give me this water…” (John 4:15). So he poured and kept pouring.

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Just like this woman, do you believe that Jesus wants to sit with you, no matter what condition you are in? Messes are the Messiah’s forte. Scripture says, The Lord longs to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you (Isaiah 30:18). Sit with him and talk with him. Let him talk to you. Receive his living words that will both wash you and regenerate you.

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Your thirst will never be quenched until you drink in the love of Jesus.

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When the conversation had come to an end, the woman left not only her waterpot but also her unworthy disposition behind, and ran to the town shouting with joy, “Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ? And the conversation spread! Scripture goes on to say: many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony. (John 14:29, 39)

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The Living Water is not just for this one woman. Come and drink.

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You are worthy, because of your Savior. He has drawn near.

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When (Martha) had said this, she went and called her sister Mary, saying in private, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she rose quickly and went to him… Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. And he said, “Where have you laid him?” ‍They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept. John 11:28-35

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Are you currently asking God, “Why” right now? Why this problem? Why this tragedy? Why this illness?

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Mary and Martha, sisters of Lazarus, were asking Jesus why he had not come when he heard about their brother’s deathly illness. They both knew and stated individually to him when he finally did come, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” They knew Jesus could have healed him, but he didn’t.

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Why?

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The answer is found when Jesus was speaking to his disciples earlier: “Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” (John 11:14)

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Jesus said he was “glad” because he knew the bigger picture. He knew that he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead, which would cause many to believe in him as the Messiah, granting each of these individuals eternal life. However, its important to see that the joy Jesus had over knowing the future was also mixed with his sorrow in the present trial concerning the two sisters he loved. He did not wave aside the raw and real emotions of Mary or Martha; rather he entered into their grief with them. Scripture says, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled… Jesus wept. See again what scripture says: Jesus was deeply moved in his spirit. (He was not just slightly saddened). And, he wept. (He was not just misty-eyed).

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Jesus does the same for you. Even though he knows the bigger picture which holds the greater outcome, he is compelled to kneel down beside you. His deep emotion and deeper love moves him to wrap his arms around you; he can’t help but weep with you. In his tears, there is healing. In his compassion, there is strength. In his present empathy, there is future hope.

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Believe this truth: The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

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Trust the Lord with all your heart with your “why” questions. Feel his embrace, hear his cry, and believe what he says when he whispers in your ear, Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

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Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And behold there was a woman who had a disabling spirit for 18 years. She was bent over and could not straighten herself. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said to her, “Woman, you are freed from your disability.” And he laid his hands on her and immediately, she was made straight and she glorified God. Luke 13:10-13

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Do you have something that is heavy on your heart right now? What is weighing you down?

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The woman in this passage has something to teach us. We see that her physical body was bent over and that she could not straighten herself; but, we also see that she had come into the presence of the One who could help. Scripture says that Jesus saw her. She caught his eye while he was teaching and he had compassion on her. He knew all about the disabling spirit that caused her affliction for the past 18 years, so he stopped his teaching and he called her to come to him.

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The crippled woman chose to respond to Jesus’ invitation. Her broken body stepped forward. Her eyes had been staring at her shuffling feet for 18 years, but in faith she moved closer to her Healer. The words he spoke to her were beautiful, “Woman, you are freed from your disability.”

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Do you believe that just as Jesus cared about this woman, he also cares about you? He sees you. He knows your burdens. He is intimately acquainted with all your ways (Psalm 139:3).  He also knows that you are “unable to straighten yourself.” No matter how hard you try, you can’t “fix it.” Just as he called this woman to himself, he is calling you. Hear him say these words to you personally, Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28).

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The Savior draws near to you. He has come to set your heart free from any and all burdens that you are carrying. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. (2 Corinthians 3:17)

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Will you respond to his call and approach him in your brokenness? Will you receive his promising words that bring hope within your trial? Will you allow his abiding Spirit to touch your heart with healing? If so, both peace and strength will hold you up as you steadily move forward, head lifted, eyes fixed on Christ.

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The sweet ending of the woman’s story, or I should say, the sweet beginning, is that she was made straight and she glorified God.

This can be your story too.

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I'm not a "glitter girl," but I was wearing a gown that shimmered.

I'm not a "look at me" personality, but it was my turn to be center-stage.

I'm not a "dancing queen," but my number was called.

The mother-son dance was here. My daughter Maggie whispered in my ear just before the dance,

"Mom, you can do this."

Then, Davis walked over, took my hand and led me to the spacious dance floor. With Ben Rector's lyrics in the background, the lights twinkling overhead, and the gentle breeze blowing around us, I looked up into my 6' 2" son's eyes, and savored my "little boy."

For 3 more minutes, he was all mine. I remembered my friend telling me earlier to pretend no one was watching, so at that moment, just he and I existed.

We slowly swayed to the lyrics:

"...Dream on,

Dream on,

Even when you're afraid all your dreams may be gone,

Just dream on,

Dream on..."

I took a moment to affirm Davis. I told him how he was like his daddy: tall, dark, handsome, a leader, and a "fisher of men."

I then told him how he was like me: a deep well, desiring others to go deep with him, kindhearted, and gospel driven.

The song kept playing; we kept swaying.

Words from the past: "Dream on."

Words for the future: "Dream on."

I told him I was so proud of him and that I loved him,

And, and...

Then--my cue; the song was nearing its end. The words came so quickly--

"Dream on,

Dream on,

To infinity and far beyond;

Maybe they'll take you fabulous places,

Maybe you'll wake up right where you belong."

With these words, I had one last twirl before I handed him over to Acacia his bride.

I wanted the last stanza of the song to be theirs.  

I stepped back to the edge of the dance floor, now empty-handed, but heart full of certainty.

He was right where he belonged.

She is now his number one.

Can a heart rejoice and weep at the same time?

My dress sparkled, my eyes glistened, and my hands folded in a prayer.

I watched the newlyweds gracefully move together, swaying to the first stanza of their life:

"Dream on,

Dream on,

When the world says you're crazy just tell them they're wrong;

When the wold says you're crazy just tell them they're wrong,

and dream on."

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Yes, my son, with your beautiful bride in your arms...dream on.

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