Where in this Earth is Unfailing Love?


It is 17 degrees this April morning and snowing. The wind chill is below zero. The sun is a puny eye trying to bat itself awake among the heavy clouds.



The radio plays something about the love of God .. . I did not sleep last night, and I have just read of Pastor Warren’s son’s suicide. I am looking through my own puny eye trying to wake in a cold, cloudy world. Trying to bat away a sea that spills down my face .. . the loss of a child . . .  How easily I ask,

Has Jesus really risen? Is He here with us---or not?

The two men on the road to Emmaus did not even ask that question. They knew their Rescuer was dead and buried, and their hopes along with him. Hearing their disconsolation, a stranger joined them, and walked the way with them, explaining about the one they were mourning. At the end of the road, they sat for a meal, the three of them. The stranger split  the bread, gave thanks, “then their eyes were opened and they recognized him-----and he disappeared from their sight.”

The moment they finally know it is Jesus----------he is gone.

So like our experience. The moment we glimpse him, our hearts explode. We see Him truly for an instant. We see ourselves for the beggars we are. We are found. And then he is gone.

But I keep looking. I have looked again and again for Him outside my windows, in all the places I travel---Because of Psalm 33:

“The LORD loves righteousness and justice;
    the earth is full of his unfailing love.”

“The earth is full of his unfailing love.”

Is this true? What have I seen of Him in "the earth" this year?  What do you see here?



















































How do I read the text of this world? How do I read "His unfailing love" in ice, storm, spider, death . . . ?  

It is far easier to recognize Him in abundance, beauty, lushness,
 yet He is present in both, in all:  

"He is before all things,
and in Him, all things hold together. . .  
All things were created for him, 
by Him, 
and through Him ... ." 

When the news and my own troubles darken my windows, showing me only storm, garbage and spider,  when I cannot read his face and presence here, in the text of the world-----I am using the wrong eyes. 

When I am not first reading Him in the text of His word, 
I am blind to His presence in the world. 

The two men on the road that day could not see Jesus, though he walked beside them. They had to see Him again in the Scriptures. They had to be told that a hideous death was part of the story. Only then did their eyes open to recognize Him, alive, beside them.


I see him here, in Psalm 33:  


For the word of the Lord is right and true;
    he is faithful in all he does.
 The Lord loves righteousness and justice;
    the earth is full of his unfailing love.

Do you see it?

"The earth is full of His unfailing love."

I see it. There. All around. 
Yes.



I wrap my winter coat around me this April and say Yes,
 Still, love.




(And still praying for the Warren family ....)




16 comments:

  1. Leslie, I understand that feeling of almost grasping the hand of God, and yet my fingers only close around the remnant of His glory. Like Moses, hidden in the rock, wanting more.

    I just heard the story of a woman who survived stage 4 ovarian cancer and how close God was in her darkest hours, and then I wonder where He was when my own brother took his life this fall. Like Rick Warren's son, he longed to know the fullness of God. I wondered is that is what it takes?

    I remember at the close of Bob's service, standing with my sisters surrounding me, attempting to sing, "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound..." and suddenly catching a fleeting glimpse of how truly sweet the song of Grace is. I suppose we will not see Him as He is until heaven, however, I see and hear the sound of His grace in you. Thanks, my friend.

    Melanya Berg

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    1. Melanya, I did not know about your brother. I am so very sorry . . .. What a grief to bear. I am glad you were not along,that your sisters were there. I am not deserving of your words, but very very grateful that He does reveal Himself in so many ways, including through one another. Blessings, friend, Leslie

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  2. I believe it is only fleeting glimpses as Melanya wrote above and you suggested in this lovely post. It is momentary and most of the time, it is enough. But there are stretches that are hard, hard, hard. And in those stretches, you do have to tune your eyes and ears to all kinds of multi-layered reality. The voices of children on the playground down the street from us, the hummingbirds swishing by, the cloud formations above, the sweetness of a grandfather's touch and smile. Scripture helps, yes, indeed. But sometimes it is the book of creation that draws me closer, and nourishes me in the dark places. Thanks for this, Leslie.

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    1. Yes, diana, I completely understand. I think the reason creation draws me so near is because of all I know from the other text . .. They elucidate one another in ways I don't even understand, but without which I would be lost. So thankful I don't have to choose between them. (Ahh, hummingbirds!How can anyone not believe when there are hummingbirds!!) Gratefully, Leslie

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  3. I also must strain to keep my eyes open, some nights I do not sleep. He is with me! Cold and dark some evenings, yet the warmth of my wood stove that gives off flickering dancing flames.
    He has said to me fan the flame. I need the fresh breath of God.
    So sorry for the Warren family. Will pray for them.
    Blessings, Roxy

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    1. Roxy---I feel it!! The heat from the woodstove .. . Ahhh, God's goodness comes to us in many forms! Glad you are joining me in prayer----and here. So thankful, Leslie

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  4. I always find your words so comforting and thoughtful.

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    1. Thank you April. Thanks for your generosity in being here with me . . .

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  6. And this morning I am caught, standing with Eve, holding the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, letting the cloyingly sweet juice drip from my chin, demanding that God explain himself, clumsily wielding a knowledge I was never created to hold. Redemption? My invitation instead, is to trust. To let God's unfailing love encircle me, not when I'm sitting in a pew, but when I'm faced with enemies I need to actively bless. When I face new calcified layers of sin in my heart. When I insist upon making it all about me. Again. Oh this withering, small story I choose to live. I, too, need to be found on the Emmaus Road.

    I was struck by the conversation in Psalm 33 between verses 4 and 15 (in the NLT), that we can trust everything He does...that because He made our hearts, He is the one who understands. Everything. He totally gets it. I don't.

    13 The Lord looks down from heaven
    and sees the whole human race.
    14 From his throne he observes
    all who live on the earth.
    15 He made their hearts,
    so he understands everything they do.

    18 But the Lord watches over those who fear him,
    those who rely on his unfailing love.

    Oh. Wait. My invitation is to trust, not to understand. Not the way I demand to. God sees my heart, and he gets it. The words God has whispered to me through this year are from Isaiah 55, "Give ear to me, that your soul may live." And I need to listen like my life depends upon it, because it does. Like having been under water for too long, I realize that the lungs of my spirit are screaming for Oxygen, for this: the reminder that my story is a part of something so much bigger than myself. That I am loved by Someone who loves so differently than I do. I say yes to that today. Yes.

    May the Warrens, and all of us caught in the excruciating, confusing swirl of life outside the garden be free to pray, "Let your unfailing love surround us, Lord, for our hope is in you alone." It scares me sometimes, this love. Because it allows so much pain. From a heart that chose pain so He could redeem this heart he created. Wow. Yes, Lord. Surround me. Wipe this stolen juice from my chin, make me clean.

    Yes and amen.

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    1. Amy----wow, this is lovely. Yes, there is so much more in Psalm 33. I love all that's there! And so true, that "our invitation is to trust, not to understand." Job displays that so clearly. It seems fear will always be part of our response to God---and that fear is fitting and right, for He is so beyond us. And He will take us sometimes where we don't want to go. Thank you for your lovely response!! Leslie

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  7. Beauty.
    And I see it and sing
    "bless the Lord, oh my soul"
    even as I'm looking for words for my aunt's funeral tomorrow....in my opinon, 15 year olds shouldn't have to go to those. That's the brokenness.
    But oh, your pictures...He is beautiful and His love is glorious and the 'whole earth is full of His glory' as the Psalmest wrote. Thank you :)

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  8. Dear R.---I'm glad you found me here. So sorry you have lost your aunt. The service will be hard, I know . .. but I believe the Lord will meet you there. We often find fresh life after being in the house of mourning. Be watching for Him ... (Love your blog---gorgeous, inviting.) Peace be with you, new friend, Leslie

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    1. Thanks for your kind words.
      It was good and hard and full of the spirit of God.
      Peace to you :)

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  9. This is beautiful, Leslie. It takes courage and HOPE to look for Him in the spiders, storms, and garbage. I so feel that right now. We bundle in our winter coats, chilled by the cold, and He does warm us -- with friendship, with a sunset, with an April bloom. It takes a spec of light to push out the darkness.

    I will pray for rest for you. And def praying for the Warrens.

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  10. Thanks so much, Karen, for joining me in prayer---and in this space. (You spoke deeply to me as well this morning.) Even in the hollow places (where I am today), God sends His people. You are one of them today. Blessings back, friend, Leslie

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