Last night, there was a thunderstorm.

One of those earth-shattering, window-pounding, thunder-rolling, intense kinds. I could feel the vibes from the thunder as I watched the rain come down in torrents from the black night sky. The lightening cut across the sky, giving a brief moment of reality to the shuddering, dark world below. It was intense. It was beautiful.

At 2 a.m., that thunderstorm was a perfect time for reflection. There is nothing quite like reviewing your own life when you have a visible reminder of the Almighty's power ringing in your ears.

The truth is... it's been raining. On the inside too.

Life isn't what I would have imagined it to be five years ago. Or even five months ago. Or even five weeks ago. Nearly everything that I know has been tested in some form. Tested for authenticity. For truth. For lasting hope. Who knew that this life after college would shake my very identity, causing me to run to Jesus with all the questions that can't be found in books? Who knew that working three jobs would show me so much of God's directing hand and rest for a weary heart? Who knew that taking on a new job to help an elderly couple would show me so much of Christ's sacrificial love and would strengthen my perspective of marriage forever? Who knew that having one of my best friends (my brother) move would just multiply the places that I call home? Who knew that linking arms with my girls, cooking food, worshiping with my whole heart would bring the Bride of Christ alive in a whole new way? Who knew that the unanswered prayers and the shattered dreams would produce such hope? Who knew that every tear that I've cried would be kept for something precious? Who knew.... except the Master of the storm?

But even the storms mean something beautiful is happening. This kind of "life" rain means many things.

It means growing. The hand of Abba Father is never quite as visible as it is when the rain comes. All the stretching that comes shows JUST HOW involved Jesus is in that moment. JC Ryle once wrote: "The Christian who is always at a standstill, to all appearance the same man, with the same little faults, and weaknesses, and besetting sins, and petty infirmities, is seldom the Christian who does much good. The man who shakes and stirs minds, and sets the world thinking, is the believer who is continually improving and going forward. Men think there is life and reality when they see growth." It's true. God loves us just the way we are, but He loves us too much to leave us the way we are.

Rain also means grace. Sometimes the flash floods come. The lightening strikes. Rain becomes uncertain and painful. But when I hear the thunder and feel the pounding rain, I'm reminded to look up and run into His presence. I remember who I was and, by the grace of God, what He has made me now because of His glorious gospel (Acts 3:19). Sometimes the mistakes hurt - and the pieces that have to be picked up have lasting consequences. But Jesus steps in and reminds me that He took that guilt and that shame. His love is unconditional and yes, He delights in me. Because of that, the rain is healing. Refreshing.

As I said earlier, life isn't what I thought it would be. I can plan my way, but the hand of Almighty God has the final say. When it comes to the thunderstorms of life, there are always ripple effects... sometimes they are seen, often they are unseen. This is where I need your prayers, your support, and your kindred battle spirit for the Kingdom of Jesus Christ.

Next week, the "rain" will take on a different form -- falling from an African sky.

As some of you have heard, Laurie Filson and I are headed for Sudan next Wednesday for the summer. Although the trip has been planned in fast-forward motion (with only a month and a half to prepare), it is a result of many months of active prayer as God has been preparing our hearts to do more short-term international work. It has required much faith and dependence upon the Lord, knowing that His ways and timing is always perfect... and that He, as Jehovah Jireh, will provide for all of our needs. As the two of us prepare for this new season of growth and grace, I wanted to outline some of the details here for you as all of us continue in this advancement of His Kingdom together.

Our purpose for going is primarily to "lift up the hands" of some fellow laborers within the family of Christ. Cush4Christ is a mission outreach through the Reformed Presbyterian Church. This team has been living and serving in the region since 2006 in an effort to see Christ-exalting churches planted and people come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. Due to some recent transitions, the team consists of the Ward Family (Vince, Julie, Samuel -6, Zakari -4, Amina -2) and the Faris Family (Daniel, Natalie, Samuel -2, and baby on the way!). They asked if we could come to help with some domestic life responsibilities, field projects, teaching English, and hopefully throw in a few other experiences along the way. :) If the last year has been any indication, it is a thrilling and a humbling thing that God chooses to allow us to be the "hands and feet" in service to Him - wherever we are on the this globe. I look forward to going, and I look forward to being back at home again.

It will be intense. It will be beautiful. It will be totally and completely a God-thing.

Prayers are craved.

[More information will be coming shortly on how to stay connected while we are gone. For now, feel free to talk to me personally or email me at emagnuson87[at]sbcglobal[dot]net)]

Tonight, the world is at peace. The lumunous moon casts a soft glow as the refreshing smell of a past rain wafts through the darkness. The thunderstorm lingers in my mind, but there is nothing but stillness and quietness. Following the Master of the storm, wherever He leads, brings ultimate peace.

It is time to be still and know that He is God.

God has been working in some pretty incredible ways lately. To give you a peek into what His hand has been doing in this heart of mine, I thought I would share something that became a lifeline a few weeks ago. These God-breathed words of Psalm 139 have defined my life lately. I'm also including my own jotted notes to give you a glimpse into how He has been using His Words to write another chapter in my life. As you read them, you might discover that He’s been writing a similar story in your life as well.

Oh Lord, you have searched me, down into my very heartbeat

Tears stung my eyes as I closed the door behind me. The crystal clear cobalt sky greeted me cheerily and the bright tulips nodded their heads as I passed, but even the hopeful signs of spring were little comfort. Another inside dream was crumbling in my hands and I needed a minute outside to clear the cobwebs in my head. What is the point of dreaming? I sighed, as I fingered a blade of grass.


I could have almost repeated that conversation with Marilla... although, this time, I was having my doubts even about the flying part. Maybe it wasn't worth the "thud" after all. Hoping is too painful sometimes.

My fingers absentmindedly combed the grass and brushed over a tiny, feathery seed pod. It was a helicopter seed. I looked up and could see the pods dancing down from the nearby tree; their little bodies being given fully to their brief, glorious flight to the ground. Down they came by the hundreds, each twirling with a kind of magical aura. My mind wandered back to childhood when I would gather up handfuls of the little wimsical maple seeds, just to watch them catch the wind. Carefree. Light. Hopeful.

But there was one problem... one that never even crossed my mind until now. Each of those little seeds were plummeting to their death. Thousands upon thousands of little seeds cover the sidewalks, curbs, gutters, and lawns every spring, only to be dried by the summer sun, choked by the tall grass, or washed away by the spring rain before they can take root. Only one or two little helicopter seeds will ever survive long enough to actually bear fruit -- to produce their own helicopter someday. On the outset, it looks like such a waste.

I'm a dreamer by nature. Little desires and hopes fly up on the "wings of anticipation" much like those little helicopter seeds. They dance along the outskirts of my heart, fluttering like little seeds looking for a secure place to settle and grow. But what becomes of them? Dreams and desires that go unfulfilled...are they wasted?

This was the quandary that I wrestled with on that sunshine-y day in the yard. It still comes back from time to time. As I've been thinking about it in the weeks following, however, I've come to understand...perhaps... why those dreams have to die first.

It's because of hope.

Sounds a little oxymoronic, doesn't it?

Those little tiny seeds represent something greater than a meaningless death. They represent the source from which they came. When Jesus gave us the command: "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart" (Psalm 37:4), He wasn't saying to never dream again. Rather, He was explaining where the focus should be... not in the little tiny seed, but in the great, majestic tree behind it. What do I love the most? Do I love God or am I just infatuated with His gifts?

A friend once told me that "falling in love is God putting a little bit of His heart in yours." If my dreams and desires are from God Himself then they will be extensions of His heart. The quality of those little seeds that come fluttering down from my heart will be a reflection of what I am truly grounded in. When my hope is securely in God alone, then those dreams are no longer mine; they are His - awaiting supernatural fulfillment in His time.

But what about when they die?

Is God so unloving as to tantalize us with dreams and desires, only to dash them cruelly before our faces? Does He give His children gifts, only to snatch them back without any replacement? What does death really mean for our dreams?


Death means surrender. It means prying back our fingers from the tiny seeds and letting them fall. It means trusting God enough to know that He IS who HE says He is. It means having faith to know that the FRUIT that will come from that death will be far greater than we could ever ask or imagine.

When my dreams die, I get to see just how involved God is in that moment. I see His heart.

Maybe the fruit is that we will understand His heartbeat even more intimately - to know God Himself. Maybe the fruit is the passion, trust, and peace that comes from a heart that has been stripped away from any dividing love, and has become wholeheartedly devoted to the Father. Maybe the fruit is the faith that will spring up in even greater waves when we witness God resurrecting our dream in such a way that ONLY He could receive the glory.

The fruit that comes from the death of a dream is for God to determine... but it WILL come. I know that when it does, it will be the best possible outcome imaginable. I may not see it now, but I trust in His Word and give time for Providence to explain.

So therefore, my dear friends, "Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord." (Psalm 31:24)

~ Beth