Pebbles Before Mountains

Before God entrusts us with mountains, He asks us to pick up pebbles.

Hearing and obeying God in the little things is how He prepares us for the earth-shaking, life-changing things. He will not begin by asking us to lift the world; He begins by asking us to pick up a pebble.

Think about it: would you tell a two-year-old to climb a mountain without first equipping them with the tools to do the job? If we, though flawed, know how to give good gifts and build wisely, then how much more does our Heavenly Father — perfect in all His ways — know how to give, shape, and train us? The problem arises when we grow impatient and believe we need to help Him along.

Anytime we stick our hands in the pie the Father is baking, we only disrupt the process.

Yes, it is hard to stay attentive to small things at all times. Yet this is where we learn to hear Him. This is embodiment with intention — listening to the Father in the daily and mundane, and trusting that in each obedience He is weaving the larger picture.

Why are we asked to do the seemingly insignificant? Because foundations precede towers. The scaffolding must be raised before the dwelling can stand. In the little, we learn His voice; in the little, we practice obedience. Each joyful act of obedience becomes another brick in the walls of our Temple, a Temple founded on the solid rock of Yeshua.

What He is building is no mere structure, but a Temple that speaks — a dwelling of the Holy Spirit, Yeshua’s image refracted in many and varied ways, rising as a pleasing aroma to the Father.

This is our sacrifice. Not once, but continually. Offered as worship, offered in obedience. Constructed from the small toward the cosmic.

Please understand, He is with us even now if we but turn to Him with intention. He longs, yes LONGS, to hear your voice as you are. He wants your ugly, He wants your hurts, because he is a gentle healer, and a Father like no Other.

He whispers my friends.

I hear Him in the leaves.

In the maple scented syrup,

In the pumpkin spice cold brew,

He reaches out through the willing.

To speak His love through verse.

Through dancers nimble limbs.

The smoky alto of red haired songstress.

He speaks Love, so enduring, so complete,

It makes me ache deep within to speak of it.

He utters longing for communion,

Let’s talk, just us, no asking for a moment, just tell me about your day.

He is coming,

A blink in a witness,

Burned twice thawed once,

In the skies,

With burning golden radiant eyes.

As always Dust,

To you,

For you,

From Him,

In me.