Cypress And Myrtle

Category: Uncategorized

  • He Speaks

    In my life, I’ve heard God roar and I’ve heard Him whisper. Two very different moments. Two very different needs. Yet both, unmistakably Him.

    As a child, He spoke in ways I could understand through graffiti on a wall, chapel songs, and Sunday School stories.
    As I grew older, He spoke through Scripture—alive and powerful.

    The God we serve is not silent. He never has been. It’s His nature to speak and He’s been speaking since the beginning.

    In Genesis 1:3, “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”
    From the very first moment of creation, His voice brought life.

    Then, in John 1:1, we read, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
    Jesus wasn’t just a messenger. He is the message. Every word He spoke revealed the heart of God.

    His voice didn’t go silent after the resurrection. He still speaks—through Scripture, through the Holy Spirit, through moments quiet and loud.
    His words bring life, clarity and peace.

    A.W. Tozer wrote, “The second person of the Holy Trinity is called the Word. The Bible is the inevitable outcome of God’s continuous speech. It is the infallible declaration of His mind for us, put into familiar human words.”

    God has always spoken and He still does.
    From creation to this very moment, His voice calls out with power and love.
    Jesus, the Living Word, continues to speak light into our darkness.
    May we listen with hearts ready to hear.

  • 8 Strips Of Paper

    It was 2006, and I was in a season of turmoil—standing at the crossroads of chasing my ambitions and seeking God’s purpose for my life. I wrestled with where my own desires ended and where His calling began.

    During that time, I was reading The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren and A Woman After God’s Own Heart by Elizabeth George. One night, I tore a page from my notebook and wrote down eight things I needed God to help me with—each on a strip of paper.

    In no particular order, my list read:

    To be godly feminine

    To be alone but not lonely

    To be a better steward of money

    To be a better steward of time

    To learn to live in a Christian community

    To find a life partner

    To have more faith in Him

    To have more courage

    I folded the eight strips of paper and placed them in a shoebox. A few months later, I opened the box to revisit my list. Nothing had changed.

    A year later, on my birthday, I opened the box again. Not much had happened, except one thing: I realized I was no longer as lonely when I was alone.

    At the end of 2007, I made a bold decision—to leave the corporate world and become a full-time seminary student. It meant living on campus for at least a year, without a stable income. It was a scary step. (The initial one year became three years).

    A year into seminary life, I opened the shoebox again. This time, I found that almost every prayer had been answered:

    I was learning to be godly feminine.

    I have learned to live in a community of believers.

    With no regular income, I learned to steward both time and money with discipline.

    My faith was growing. So was my courage.

    All except one—“to find a life partner.”

    But God wasn’t done. I met him in seminary. He was a fellow student, also following God’s call. We became friends, then more. Two years after I graduated, we got married. The final prayer in the shoebox was answered.

    Blessings Come After Obedience

    My journey reminded me of Abraham.

    In Genesis 12, God gave Abraham a command:
    “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.”
    (Genesis 12:1, NIV)

    God didn’t give Abraham a detailed plan. There was no map, no itinerary.

    But God let him know the blessings he would receive if he chose to obey God.
    “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you… and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”
    (Genesis 12:2–3)

    So, Abraham obeyed and he went.

    The blessings didn’t come before Abraham moved—they came after his obedience. That’s the pattern we see throughout Scripture. When we obey and take the step of faith, even when we can’t see the whole picture, God responds. He transforms us in the process.

    And so, I leave you with this simple reminder:
    that blessings come after obedience.
    Not instantly. Not always the way we imagined. But always, in God’s time and way.

  • The Lion Who Cannot Be Tamed

    In a Christian marriage, there are always three persons: you, your spouse, and the Third — a Lion who cannot be tamed.

    We often forget this.
    We focus on each other — just the two of us — and slowly, subtly, the Lion is pushed to the edge. Sometimes to the background.
    But He never forces Himself.
    He waits.
    He waits to be invited back into the very center.

    But let us not invite Him only to keep Him safe and contained. Not in the corner. Not in a box.

    No — He is a Lion who cannot be tamed.

    As C.S. Lewis wrote in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe:
    “He’s not a tame lion… But he is good.”

    This is the nature of Aslan, and the nature of our God.
    He is holy. Fierce. Just. Loving beyond measure.
    And when we give Him full reign in our marriage, He does not sit quietly.
    He roars.

    He fights for us.
    He binds us together when we feel like falling apart.
    He walks us through the shadows, and leads us back into the light.

    His love is unyielding.
    His presence is wild not reckless, but full of righteous purpose.

    So let Him run free through every part of your marriage:
    Over your joy and laughter.
    Over your sorrow and silence.
    Over your doubts and your prayers.

    Because the Lion who cannot be tamed is not just a symbol. He is the Living God. Holy and near. Majestic and merciful.

    And He will never leave you.
    Not now. Not ever.

  • The Holy Spirit Visits

    He appeared suddenly, unannounced.
    It wasn’t entirely quiet because the children were sleeping.

    Yet the stillness was overwhelming.
    He hovered over me—over my lying body.
    My entire being sensed a presence: majestic, magnificent, beyond description.

    My eyes were open. I could see the ceiling, and everything in the room.
    I could hear the children breathing, the air conditioner humming.
    Everything was still—not quiet, but still.
    As if all of creation had paused in awe and wonder.

    He did not speak.
    He was simply there.

    What struck me most was His weight—
    not crushing, not suffocating,
    but like a substance so completely saturated with presence it became heavy.
    I told Him so.

    I don’t remember when He left.
    But I will never forget what it felt — to be in the presence of One so holy, so majestic, and infinite.