Cypress And Myrtle

Tag: courage

  • 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.