Author: Cara Sexton

the aerodynamic mystery of you

I sit in the porch rocker and soak up the silence. It’s a discipline I’m learning is essential to embracing the mysterious wonder of God but it does not come naturally to me, leaving room in my life for encountering the quiet without distraction. At home, the phone never stops, the emails just keep coming and the vacuum needs running more times in a day than seems practical. My life’s work seems utterly inconsequential to the Kingdom of God most of the time and I long for work that matters, for an influence of great proportion in the world....

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free from not measuring up

I flip through pages, thousands of them, all tissue thin with an ink everlasting. They tell the stories, this Holy Book of books; these living, breathing words unfolding the hearts of saints and sinners, words that mark the law of Moses and the ministry of Jesus, this text I’ve been told over and again is a guidebook for living. I want to crawl up inside it, find all the answers, plug in the right formula to make this life compute. Life does come with an instruction manual, we hear. It’s the Bible. All you ever need to know about...

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afraid of the darkness

Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings. –Psalm 17:8 There are days when I plead for Him to come and come soon. When the weight of the whole broken business of life grabs hold and pulls me straight to the bottom, when I’m sure this can’t go on much longer—certain that redemption is right around the corner. It must be. These are the big-tragedy-on-the-news days, the hard-and-hurting days, the desperate-for-redemption days. The only response is the groan of my soul as it leans its weight into the shoulder of God...

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on crumpled bills and broken souls

He hands me a mason jar full of crumpled fives and hard-earned ten dollar bills. He’s only been here since December, our newly adopted son, but he’s no stranger to hard work and has earned well for himself. “I want to help my brother buy a new computer,” he says. “You guys have given me so much. I want to give something back. You know?” It is an offering of grace and selflessness and I tell him to keep his money but he insists on doing this. “I didn’t have anyone to help me out when I was his...

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sale racks and sunrise glory

You are reading the RISE series. Read more from this series of articles. choosing to rise above it sale racks and sunrise glory rise and walk the storyline lessons from the kitchen {on rising} arise to the wonder of God in your life I denied myself nothing my eyes desired; I refused my heart no pleasure. My heart took delight in all my labor, and this was the reward for all my toil. Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun. –Ecclesiastes...

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breath by breath

I am wound too tight by schedules and piles these days while quiet lingers always out of grasp, and so many bodies in tight spaces can overwhelm a heart longing for reverberation. His voice, it seems, comes to me like pond ripples, such a subtle vibration that I’m want to miss it for all the squeaky wheels. Some people hear Him loud and clear, in clarity and certainty, but my amateur ear is deaf to His loudness as of yet, and the booming voice seems to become another fog horn in the harbor, another barking seal, another bustle of...

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when you are a mess and He is in love

He nibbles graham crackers on the couch, sticky crumbs and a slice of lunch meat cut into “pizza shapes” because that’s the only way he’ll eat it. Five hairs stick straight at his crown and there is dirty black beneath his fingernails. Frayed socks, chapped lips, a bruise on his forehead from enthusiastic little boy exploits—sticks and stones and shields and spiders. He is a mess and I am in love. I tousle the blonde and stare long and tell him over and over and over because I don’t ever want him to forget. I want everything he is...

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