katie rose writes

Only God can speak of sin, guilt, and judgement, yet in the same breath speak so tenderly of His past deeds and love that He has steadfastly shown to His people. Only He can chastise yet speak of covenant acts that binds Him even still to His people who have long-since forsaken the very same covenant. This is His severe mercy—for some will hear the words and truly repent. Others will still reject them. Despite it all—His still speaks to us. It is a battle for those of us in Christ to read these words and not feel struck down in condemnation. Conviction is one thing. Knowing that we too are quick to run to others lovers is one thing; or that we too forsake freedom for slavery—that’s conviction. Condemnation throws us on the ground and says we cannot get up. It pins us down in those moments and says, twisting the Word for his own scheme, How will you now return to Him? But God’s conviction is gentle and it is leading us somewhere else, beyond the borders of our guilt and shame. God

“Even with all your broken pieces I make wholeness, not perfection Even with all your broken pieces I have a greater story to tell Even with all your broken pieces I give you living water from My well Even will all your broken pieces I will fill you and rush through you Even with all your broken pieces I send you to a broken world.” As I began to read Jeremiah 2 a few mornings ago, I only made it a fourth of the way through the chapter. A lump lodged in my throat as I read God’s voice over His people’s sin— My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters, and they have made cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water— not because of any conviction over my own sin, but because of a question that struck me in the wake of these verses.  I jotted it down beside the text and His reply was immediate, gentle, fresh water to my dry soul— What do you do when you   feel like the broken cistern  that ca

I fell asleep last night with tears rolling down my cheeks. A long, lazy day with a schedule & a to-do list that didn’t get done (does it ever?) had left me restless (as it should), but it also left me broken. Broken over my own sin, that seems to keep me so pinned down that I cannot get back up. Broken by a thousand never-ending fears that whisper and cut like shards on my already beat-up heart. But the last words He placed on my lips did not give validity to these fears—in the same breath that shuddered with fear, He reminded me: I, I am He who comforts you. And so I woke up, a full thirty minutes before my alarm, and was met not with those old lies, but with new mercies. I woke up to a Monday morning email that humbled my spirit. I woke up to the God who says, I still choose you . I woke up to little mercies like good coffee and text messages and words in His Word that speak again to those words I fell asleep repeating in the dark. As I finish Isaiah, I finish a book tha

2 months later, and it’s time for another word from the Lord. The people’s work seems to have progressed to the point where there are again priests in the Temple, studying, teaching, and keeping the law. So that’s where the Lord sends Haggai, to ask the priests about the law. He asks them about how different items are made holy or unclean. And it only takes a touch, according to the law. A touch, a glance, a moment—before things are made holy or made unclean. “So it is with my people, my nation, and the work of their hands.” And now, they are given something else to consider: how they fared then. Before they began rebuilding the Temple, before perhaps they even returned from exile—His hand was forced to allow everything they touched to be equally blighted as they themselves were in their wanderings. The words of crushed expectations in chapter one come back now to mind as they drew up the wine or collected the grain—the amount they looked for was lacking. It was enough, but it

There’s urgency in His voice as He meets with Haggai and again prepares him to speak to the leaders and the people alike. There’s urgency in His word, as He speaks to their feeble, fearful hearts. It’s been over a month since they began rebuilding, since their steps of obedience and rightly-placed, fearing perspective began. Over a month since they began to work. And they’re worried (yes, again). They’re worried that it’s not good enough. And probably, this extends far beyond their work— Are we good enough for this task? And maybe there is even a more distant echo behind their words, whispering to themselves: Is He good enough? So He speaks, with a now that underscores His every word—as it undermines their every fear. He affirms what they see: their faithless eyes seeing visions of glory as His house used to be. Their weary eyes regarding their work as a ruin still. But now , He says, be strong. be strong. be strong. Why strong? Because the work is real—all around: physically

Just a few days after making a decision that filled me with fresh hope and expectation, I found myself again bowed low with fear and anxiety. My mind was spinning (and still is) with a thousand to-dos and a million thoughts. But I found myself stopped in my tracks by a simple entry in a devotional that some ladies back home sent me for Christmas. It led me to spend a few days in a different prophetic book--Haggai--than the one I'm currently in (Isaiah).  The devo led me through the prophet's invitation to "consider your ways" (1.5). Little did I know, this book had a lot more to say to me besides that. The words spoke directly to the hearts of the exiles who had returned to build the Temple--the exiles who kept putting the task off, busied with their own homes instead of the Lord's. Yet, their expectations were high as they returned--and these expectations were utterly unmet-- "You have sown much, but harvested little. You eat, but you never have

I am broken at your feet, poured out before you now I have nothing left to give so empty Yet this is where praise begins it fills the spaces between the shards of my shattered heart this is where worship comes and makes brokenness beautiful and penetrates the emptiest places in me She heard that He was in town, this Jesus whom she had heard so much about—healing, forgiveness, celebration filled all the reports. She heard that He was going to be eating dinner at a prominent man’s house, a religious man whose eyes always seemed to find hers—full of judgement, daggers aimed for her heart. But something about Jesus drew her even to this man’s home. She got ready. She wrapped her face and hair up in her shawl, the color of sky, stark against her light olive skin and charcoal hair. Her white tunic never seemed white enough or long enough to cover her shame, to cover all that she felt needed to be covered—all of it, all of her. Her eyes were already red-rimmed,

Our disappointment causes us to guard our hearts and the hearts of those around us by lowering levels of expectation and, ultimately, faith. Until you get real with God about your disappointment, you will struggle to really believe the truth about who He is, and it will be difficult to live with expectations in your heart. —Naturally Supernatural by Gary Best I went to the mountains last week to deal with the disappointments that were keeping my heart from dreaming again, the disappointments that stung like knives in my heart—keeping me hurting, far from a place of healing—as I realized the plethora of expectations that I had placed on coming back to this place I fell in love with six years ago, on the Father’s faithfulness, and (more than than anything else) on myself .      I’m going back.      I’m going to learn the language.      I’m going to do this , and this , and that. See the common denominator? That’s exactly what had to break, that’s what had to be da

A few years ago, I did a Beth Moore study through the Psalms of Ascent (120-133), and it quickly become a really needed study for me, as well as the friends I studied it with, for many different reasons, but the biggest one was this: rewriting the psalms we studied—making them personal. She led us to keep the ideas intact, but to let the Spirit speak them over us. And I fell in love with that weekly exercise.  So this past weekend, as I spent extended time alone with the Lord, I rewrote a psalm He has been speaking through these past few months. And I wanted to share it, with the vision that He’ll not only speak through it, but also bring to mind a psalm that you love, that He wants to speak over you in a new way.  Psalm 37 He Won’t Leave Me Do not inwardly calculate against yourself because of evil’s calculations; Do not jealously think that the wrongdoers somehow have it better than you! For they will pass away like grass. Is that what I will do with you?