Still Saturday::to flourish in affliction...

To know that nothing hurts the godly, is a matter of comfort; but to be assured that all things which fall out shall co-operate for their good, that their crosses shall be turned into blessings, that showers of affliction water the withering root of their grace and make it flourish more; this may fill their hearts with joy till they run over.

Thomas Watson

I'm not inclined to proclaim a word for the year, but I have been known to focus on a word or phrase for a season. Like the year I contemplated "savor" every day over the sixty days before my sixtieth birthday. (Has it really been five years already?)

For months I've been sitting in a season of letting-go (more on this next week). Though the intensity has and will continue to vary, to live open-handed with joy and contentment to God's sovereignty -- His gifts and graces -- is like every word I'm given. It's not a word to discard when the year or season is over, but to take root and grow deeper to produce sweeter fruit.

As I press into this season of letting-go, I also hear God's whisper -- flourish. I hear it in His Word and in the inspired words of His people. I see it in His creation.

Flourish, my daughter, flourish.

Outside -- in our subtropic rural south winter -- the azaleas begin to flourish in my Pollywog Creek backyard.

Still Saturday::we know better...

Most of us have grown up thinking that being loved means being made much of.

Our whole world seems to be built on this assumption. If I love you, I make much of you. I help you feel good about yourself. It is as though a sight of the self is the secret of joy.

But we know better.

Our happiest moments have not been self-saturated moments, but self-forgetful moments.

Paradise will not be a hall of mirrors. It will be a display of majesty. And it won't be ours.

Love is the labor--whatever the cost--of helping people be enthralled with what will satisfy them most, namely, Jesus Christ.

John Piper,  The Passion of Jesus Christ,  p.117

{Between February 12th and April 16th (the Wednesday before Easter), I am reading and discussing John Piper's The Passion of Jesus Christ - Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die with a group of friends. From now through Easter, my Still Saturday quotes and I {LOVE} Sunday scriptures will come from my readings in this book by Piper, and the photos might simply be a few favorites from those I've taken during the week.}

Still Saturday::it costs us nothing...

Forgiveness costs us nothing. All our costly obedience is the fruit, not the root, of being forgiven. That's why we call it grace. But it cost Jesus his life...Oh, how precious is the news that God does not hold our sins against us! And how beautiful is Christ, whose blood made it right for God to do this.

John Piper, The Passion of Jesus Christ, p.37

(Between February 12th and April 16th (the Wednesday before Easter), I am reading and discussing John Piper's The Passion of Jesus Christ - Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die with a group of friends. From now through Easter, my Still Saturday quotes and I {LOVE} Sunday scriptures will come from my readings in this book by Piper, and the photos might simply be a few favorites from those I've taken during the week.)

 

I {LOVE} Sunday::to know the sacrificial love of Christ...

and gave himself up for us...



a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. 


Ephesians 5.2
Between February 12th and April 16th (the Wednesday before Easter), I am reading and discussing John Piper's The Passion of Jesus Christ - Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die with a group of friends. From now through Easter, my Still Saturday quotes and I {LOVE} Sunday scriptures will come from my readings in this book by Piper, and the photos might simply be a few favorites from those I've taken during the week. 

Still Saturday::recreated

God is the ultimate Artist. He is the Creator of all things. He delights in color, sound, shapes of all kinds, and unstraight lines. Every person he has made is entirely unique. What an artist he is! Not only does God create, he re-creates, too. In Christ Jesus, we who were bent out of shape, distorted, and rebellious creatures are transformed into the likeness of Christ. God's life-giving Spirit indwells us, recasting our inclinations and the desires of our heart that we might love and honor our Creator. We are the very artistry of God.

Con Campbell, Outreach and the Artist, p. 115

All my days...

My heart sank when the first azalea bloom caught my eye. It wasn't even Thanksgiving. 

By January, the shrubs under the sweet gum trees in the backyard and under the scrub oaks that line the circular drive out to the road burst with color, and I wanted to cry.  

I wandered round and through the bushes with my camera - my lens focused on the perfusion of pink, but my thoughts zoomed forward to March - when the azaleas are supposed to bloom like this. 

And I said it out loud. If everything blooms this early in winter, there won’t be any flowers left for spring. 

Ridiculous, I know. The only day I have is this one - the day I'm breathing and living, and to cry about flowers because they won't be here tomorrow would be ludicrous if it weren't so absurd.  

The gifts of the day are like manna, I know – always enough and more than I deserve, but oh, how easy it is to forget that there’s manna for the days ahead. It might even be sweeter. 

And so it is, this first day of March, when the shrubs under the sweet gum trees in the backyard and under the scrub oaks that line the circular drive out to the road continue to burst with a perfusion of pink, and I want to cry. 

God's goodness to me is without measure.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life... Psalm 23:6 ESV

It's still progress...

Beth Moore on taking three steps forward and two steps back...

Call me a math wizard, but isn't that still one step forward? Isn't that still some pretty big progress as we run against the hurricane winds of a godless culture? So Long, Insecurity, p. 12

{Photos - more through-the-screen photos of my Pollywog Creek backyard}

Somebody has to live here, it may as well be me...

There's a story to tell about that bull who wandered through Pollywog Creek yesterday, but I'm saving it for next week. Rural life may move slowly, but it's seldom boring. 

There's an azalea story for next week, too, but for now we're headed through the Everglades for Everglades City and the promise of seafood and a detour through Ave Maria on the way home. 

Just thought I'd stop in with a few photos of life this week on the creek, and to encourage you to click on over {for some weekend inspiration} to Sandy's for Still Saturday and Deidra's for The Sunday Community.  And Ann's, of course, for daily whispers of grace.