Confidence

Heavenly Whispers

~ Susan Brown ~ Leave a comment

9th August 2024

I woke early and spent a little while praying and journalling before ambling to the kitchen to spend a few moments with my daughter before she left for school. She packed a salad for her lunch; I tidied the kitchen and emptied the dishwasher. And we talked—about her day, about my day, about anything and everything that came to mind. I treasured these times of easy conversation with my adult children, even more so now we only had one left at home. When I returned to the bedroom, my heart was full.  

So was my mind.

After our random ramblings, it was difficult to bring my thoughts back to that place where God was my sole focus. Yet, as I remained quiet His loving words began to flow, offering gentle counsel and welcome comfort—words too rich to keep to myself.

This is His heart for us all, dear reader. So please take a few minutes to read and let them soak into your soul.

‘Be still, My precious one. Be still. Still in body. Still in heart. Still in mind. Let your breathing slow. Let your thoughts slow.

Know that I am God—reigning over all things and all people. Able to work good, even in the most unlikely situations, through the most unlikely people. Find your strength, your peace in the assurance of My constant presence. And let your heart be at rest.

I am the I AM.

The one who has always been and always will be. Your Creator and Sustainer. The one who keeps air whooshing in and out of your lungs and blood flowing through your body, carrying life-giving supplies to every cell, every system. The one who tells the sun when to rise and the clouds when to water the earth. Who dictates the turning of the seasons—even the seasons in your life.

Trust Me.

I see you. I delight in everything about you, for you are my creation, my treasured possession. Yes, I see your worries and those concerns that make your shoulders sag and your head hang down. I see those areas of weakness and struggle and failure.

Lift your eyes again to my face. I love you . . . even now. I see the whole span of your life and there is much yet to come. Do not get bogged down in the challenges of the now, thinking this is all there is.

Look to me.

Feel my pure love and surrender to it. Let go of fear and control. Be that soft, pliable clay in my hands. And I will continue to transform you, bringing freedom from old ways and leading you in my way of life. Don’t worry about what your life will look like in the days to come. At each step along the path I will be there, providing all you need for that moment.

Fix your eyes on me and everything else will shift into its right perspective. Even your physical body will settle. This is the place of true rest—abiding in me, remaining in close connection, relying on me as your Source and your Guide. Drink My living water and all will be well with you. I alone am the Satisfier of your soul.’

Photo by Cup of Couple on Pexels.com

*If you want to read more of God’s ‘Heavenly Whispers’ to me, you can find me on social media at @susanbrownauthor21 on Instagram and Susan Brown Author on Facebook.

If you’d like to use these whispers as a Christian meditation, I’ve posted a live video on my Facebook page. ❤️

‘I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.’

Psalm 131:2 (NIV)

‘Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith’

Hebrews 12:2a (BSB)

‘Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare.’

Isaiah 55:2b (NIV)

In the Eye of the Storm

~ Susan Brown ~ Leave a comment

I lie across our already-made bed, golden sunshine pouring in the full-length windows, bathing me in its warmth. It’s nine o’clock on Sunday morning. Preparation for our lunch guests is done and we’ll soon be leaving for church. Yet my soul yearns for stillness. I let my eyes slide closed for a few seconds and breathe deep and slow, then flick through my journal to the first clear space and begin to write.

LORD, I rest in You. Thank You for Sabbath, for Your command to rest and Your ability to slow me down. I praise You!

Reaching for my bible, I turn to Psalm 46 and go straight to the verse I know so well. ‘Be still and know that I am God.’ I pause, drinking in the words—be still—and feel my heart, my mind, my whole being winding down. And I marvel that my God commands me to pause and rest in Him.  He knows how much I need it.    

I shift my gaze back to the beginning of the chapter, eager to understand the context of this command.   

‘God is our refuge and strength,

An ever-present help in trouble.’

Ah, trouble. That’s where it begins—when stillness seems the most impossible, yet is the most crucial. I read on, images leaping off the page to strike me with their power. The earth trembles and implodes. Mountains rumble and crash into a wild, foaming sea. I see it in my mind—towering symbols of strength breaking into pieces and plummeting into seething waves. And I hear it—the cataclysmic, deafening roar of disaster.

Then comes verse 4.

‘There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

the holy place where the Most High dwells.

God is within her, she will not fall;

God will help her at break of day.’

Photo from Pexels

And I am drawn into the eye of the storm—that quiet, anchored place of security in God. Through my faith in Jesus, God now dwells within me by His Spirit. So I will not fall. He will help me at break of day.

I get to verse 6 and I am tossed back into the chaos, this time on a continental scale. Nations in uproar, kingdoms falling. Again, the images are so vivid. Swords clashing, men cursing and raging, blood pouring from countless wounds and smoke rising from burning remains, obscuring the view of bodies crumpled on the ground and muffling their wails of desperation.  

It’s loud and awful and beyond comprehension.

Then God lifts His voice. And everything is reduced to silence.

And all, including me, are brought back to this one truth:

‘The LORD Almighty is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress.’

The LORD Almighty. The LORD All Mighty. Wars may come, rulers may rise, but the LORD determines their end—all over the earth. And He takes every weapon of warfare in hand, rending them powerless.

He says, ‘Be still—everything and everyone. Cease! See and understand that I am God. There is no other. I reign over the nations. I reign over the earth. No matter what chaos may come, I will have the final say.’

‘And I am your fortress,’ He says to me. ‘Take refuge in Me and I will surround you with My strength.’

I glance at the clock then rise from the bed and go, hope burning in my chest and new confidence in my stride.

Fuelling the Marriage Fire

~ Susan Brown ~ 4 Comments

I couldn’t help but giggle when the message from my husband appeared on my phone.

‘You are hereby cordially invited to an evening stroll at the beach

Friday 2nd September 7pm.

Fish and chips will be served as part of the festivities.

Dress: warm.

Please RSVP to this address within 24 hours.

LM.’

Cordially invited for fish and chips? Ha! And the signature, ‘LM’? That was a code name from our early days as a couple—a reminder of a time when our relationship was fresh and new. This invitation breathed fun, escape and romance. But would I accept?

For five months Mark and I had been studying, planning and writing in preparation for some new ‘God-ventures’. We spent many evenings and most Saturdays on our computers, often in the same room, yet so engrossed in our individual tasks, we rarely talked. When we did chat, it was usually about our projects or some other family issue we needed to address. We both relished the growth and momentum in this new season and were grateful for what God was doing. But after five months at the same hectic pace, the intensity was taking its toll.   

What we really needed was some light-hearted fun. But breaking out of task mode didn’t come easily. When Mark’s invitation came, my happy thoughts quickly gave way to reasoning. I don’t really want fish and chips. I’d rather eat something else. Maybe we can get Thai—but that’s not so easy to eat at the beach. By Friday, I’ll probably be too tired to go out and it’ll be dark and cold at the beach. Maybe we can just do something at home like we usually do. . .

My thoughts spiralled downwards until I felt a stern inner rebuke. Stop! Just stop!  

What was I doing? When did I get so fussy? My husband was asking me out on a date! A cute, simple date like we enjoyed in our early days, when we were besotted bible college students living on a tight budget. Back in the days when he was LM—‘Lovely Mark’—who picked fragrant roses from the garden on campus and wrote beautiful notes for me, signed ‘LM’. Lovely indeed! In those days, I wouldn’t have cared where we went or what we did, as long as we were together.

Go, and be thankful, I felt God whisper. Take this opportunity and enjoy!  

Of course. I could choose to lay down my preferences and receive what Mark had so thoughtfully planned. The only way to receive the gift being offered with an open hand was to loosen my grip.  

Firmly rebuked, I nodded and typed a quick reply:

‘Thank you, sir, for your kind invitation.

It is my honour and pleasure to accept. Xxx’

Friday rolled around, along with an ominous bank of grey clouds. While the sky darkened, we rugged up in thick jumpers and track pants and climbed into the car with our teenage daughter. We dropped her at youth group, bought our dinner at a local take away then drove to a headland overlooking the ocean. The wind was crazy-wild, roaring so powerfully up the slope that our car shook and shuddered under its force. It was too cold for a walk so we sat in the car—warm and cosy—munching on golden fish and chips and watching seagulls zip and slide on the howling gusts. Mark reached out the window with a chip and we watched one of the birds flap frantically just to get in position to snatch that morsel from his fingers. We laughed, we talked and our uptight minds began to unwind. And as they did, we remembered—who we were and where our love began.

The conversation drifted through our early memories—the days we went cruising along winding country roads in Mark’s big, old station wagon just to have time on our own; the evenings we bought lamb souvlakis from a little shop in Launceston then sat by the Tamar river, savouring quiet conversation and watching the moon’s reflection ripple on the water. Those were beautiful times when we dreamed of all the adventures we’d share once we were married. Our hearts were full of hope and anticipation.

And now, here we were, twenty-six years on—parents of four, soon-to-be grandparents—still dreaming and adventuring with God. Our voices grew soft and our words full of wonder as we remembered the ways God had led us through every predicament and breakthrough, every heartache and victory, through all the years between the days of LM and the present.

God’s presence and peace were so real, our car felt like a holy place.

Sometimes in marriage, it’s only by stripping away all the layers that build up around our relationship that we can strengthen our foundations.

We both felt it then—that shift in our hearts. Suddenly our long to-do lists and the busyness that had dimmed our joy seemed like no big deal. God hadn’t changed. Just as He had seen us and our children through all the years past, He would be enough for us in this new unfolding—whatever it held.

Our God was good. We could trust Him.

That night, what began as a simple date grew into something much more powerful. A time of celebration. A time of prayer and fresh surrender. A time that carried us home revived in hope and gratitude for the relationship we shared—a gift from God, made strong by His grace.

Will You Walk with Him?

~ Susan Brown ~ Leave a comment

High on a hill he stands, king over his kingdom—or so he thinks. His head is erect. His strong horns curve backwards. His tan coat reflects the yellowing afternoon sunlight. He snorts, his shaggy beard quivering. She comes, small of frame with slate grey hair, wearing navy pants and a pink shirt. Swishing through grasses damp from rain she walks, her voice carrying through the air in its sing-song way. Two heads pop up from the grass below, their arching necks lengthening and orange beaks flashing as they turn. A handful of chickens—orbs of white, red and gold—emerge from bowing bracken ferns and scurry up the slope alonside the geese.

Photo by Ellie Burgin on Pexels

Her words flow melodically in an unfamiliar tongue, the same phrase—something akin to, ‘Come here,’ perhaps—being used over and over. Affection rings in her tone.  These are her children, the delight of her heart. With rocking gait, she leads them towards their coop, offering food and shelter, comfort and safety. Her words flow like a stream over pebbles until at last the chickens answer with their rhythmic cluck-clucks and monologue turns to conversation—back and forth, her and them. A wayward goose tries to push past and the woman’s voice becomes stern, her words sharp. She waves her arms at the honking bird, quickly bringing her family into order.

Many times, when I hear this ritual begin, I stop whatever I’m doing and watch through our window. A warm sense of delight spreads through me and I can’t help but smile. Though I can’t decipher the words of either woman or creature, their relationship is clear and their dynamics often entertaining.

On a recent afternoon when my heart was heavy, I pulled out my journal and began listing all the reasons I had to give thanks. The woman came to mind and as I pictured her there on the hill, I felt a sudden surge of joy in my spirit as God breathed these words:

That’s like Me with you.

Of course. No wonder it brought me such pleasure.  

Like this woman, our God walked in the garden with His beloved ones at the end of the day, right from the beginning of creation (Gen 3:8-9). Always, this has been His heart—intimate connection, reflection on the day, a passing on of wisdom.

Now, through Christ, all of us are invited into that intimacy.

He beckons,

Come away with Me, My love

Hear Me singing over you?

I have food for you—and shelter.

Come and be nourished. Come and learn from Me.

Receive My discipline, for I see you and I know what you need.

And I will give you rest.

He’s calling us—not only to come to Him at the end of the day but to walk with Him all day every day. Through His death and resurrection, Jesus made the way for us to be in constant relationship with Him through the Holy Spirit.

What is our response to such an offer?

Photo from Pexels-Pixabay 35811

Are we like the goose—certain we know better and determined to do life our own way?

We may already belong to Jesus but we’re not always willing to follow His directions. We’re choosey about what we entrust to Him, unwilling to surrender our whole lives to His loving rule.

Are we eager to embrace the rich, full relationship He offers—to bask in His love, find refuge and rest in His presence, to feed on His word, converse with Him and learn from His wisdom?

Are we willing to run to Him and say,

Lord, it’s You I want—nothing else.

Here’s my life.

Make it what You want.

Thank You for Your counsel, Your provision, Your discipline and Your power?

If you’re anything like me, your response to these questions varies from day to day. I’m challenged as I write them. Emotions and circumstances often cloud our view and make us close our hearts, clutching at control. That’s why it’s so crucial for us to fix our gaze on the truth and listen for His song—every day, every moment. Only when we see Jesus for who He really is—the one who surrendered completely to the Father’s plan—are we able to lay everything at His beautiful, pierced feet.

With surrender comes life in all its fullness—the life we were created for—unfolding step by step as we walk with Him.

‘Why spend money on what is not bread,

And your labour on what does not satisfy?

Listen, listen to me and eat what is good,

And your soul will delight in the richest of fare.’

Isaiah 55:2

When the Way is Hard

~ Susan Brown ~ 4 Comments

His hand felt so tiny, so trusting in mine as we paused at the entrance to the cobbled path. I stooped beside him, our brown eyes meeting, and whispered, “Let’s go on an adventure.”

“Yeah—adventure!” His eyes lit up and his face broke into a broad grin. I giggled as his three-year-old legs began scurrying up the sweeping slope. Matching his pace, I loped easily beside him on my lanky twelve-year-old legs. Arching branches rustled overhead and magpies filled the air with their lilting melody, urging us on. Come and see, come and see.

Up a winding curve we climbed, away from our parents and picnic blanket—into the land of the unknown. Lush ferns waved their curving fronds, blurring the path edges, and palms stretched tall, reaching for the sky. Our eyes grew wide as we crept through their shadows, intrepid explorers trekking through the jungle. Hand in hand, we scaled smooth stone steps, worn by the tread of countless feet, puffing a little and pausing to rest those tired toddler legs. Spreading trees and orb-like bushes hid our view of the way ahead, adding fire to our curiosity. Sometimes we stopped, leaning close and whispering as I pointed to a delicate flower, a buzzing bee or colourful butterfly. At one point, when my little companion grew so weary he didn’t want to go on, I swung him onto my back and bounced along the path, grinning as he giggled and chanting, ‘Wait till you see what’s up ahead.’ When he was rested, I lowered him gently to the ground and on we marched, eager to finish our course.

Photo by Marco de Winter on Unsplash

My heart thrummed a happy rhythm as vivid images from my own childhood flashed through my mind. Many times, my family had come to these gardens for holiday picnics and birthday celebrations. Many times, I’d run along these paths behind my older sisters, unsure exactly where we were going, my eyes searching for familiar landmarks along the way – the timber bridge arching over the duck pond, the stately Japanese tea house or the wishing well full of shimmering coins. The first time my parents told me I was old enough to explore on my own, my spirit soared. I stood at the edge of the lawn where several paths branched off in different directions, my mind pulsing with the possibilities. Which route should I choose? Where will they take me? And what will I discover on my way?

Time passed, leading to this day. Now I was the older one with a young sibling in tow. It was my turn to share that wonder with my brother, to open his eyes to the thrill of new adventures.

Those memories have left a permanent imprint on my heart. Because of them, I’ve always felt drawn to gardens with tall hedges, winding paths and hidden corners. The memories themselves have been tucked away in a corner of my mind reserved for precious things, drawn out only when I’ve seen old photos or driven past the gardens, which still reside in their place on a hill—until a few weeks ago, when God brought them back so vividly it was as if I was walking those paths once more.

This year—so far—has been one of challenge.  I’ve been asked to do things I didn’t think I could and ventured well beyond what I thought was my happy place. My ‘legs’ have grown weary and sometimes I’ve been afraid of what might lie around the corner. Sometimes, I’ve been head-spinningly anxious. Yet, as I’ve pressed on, I’ve marvelled at the way God has—every time—brought peace, blessing, joy and growth through those things I would rather have avoided.

Again, I’ve been reminded of how little I really understand of His ways. Like a little child, I’m not ‘tall’ enough to see very far on the path He has for me. Sometimes I question the value in the direction He takes me and, in my tiredness, want to stop, to turn back or take a shorter, faster route.

But He has a plan. He knows the best way. And challenges are vital to the journey.

This is what He spoke to my heart the morning He revived those images:

‘Continue to trust Me, to put your confidence in Me, to follow My lead and press forward in My plans. It is a great adventure. And just as you delighted in exploring all the winding paths of the gardens in your childhood, so you will delight as you see what I have around each bend for you.

I have many surprises in store, much unexpected beauty. There will be passages that seem long, steep and, at times, even dull. In those I am building your muscle and mind for the parts still to come, teaching you to drink deep from my reservoir.

Hold fast to Me and let Me take you to those unexpected places where you will experience the beauty of My presence in ways beyond what you’ve known.’

Things are not always as they seem. Like children, we are limited in our vision. God sees the whole picture and has good reasons for everything He leads us into. At each stage of our journey, we can trust Him to give us what we need to go on. And when we grow weary, He will carry us, chanting, ‘Wait till you see what’s up ahead’.

Knowing Him, it will be worth the trek.

Photo by Kyler Wilton on Unsplash

“You do not realise now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”   John 13:7

“In all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28

“Even to your old age and grey hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you.

I have made you and I will carry you;

I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”

Isaiah 46:4

Hope in the midst of winter

~ Susan Brown ~ 2 Comments

Have you braved the outdoors lately?

It was mid-July, the deepest, darkest part of winter – the time of year when sensible people stay tucked up inside by the fire. Yet one unusually warm day the sun streamed through my window and beckoned me outside.

The moment I opened the door, the lilting warble of magpies filled my ears. I smiled and breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet fragrance of wattle blooms. I wandered around the yard, pausing in one place to watch the birds flirt and swoop, bending over in another to study the silent garden beds. Clusters of pale green spikes gave promise of daffodils and bluebells yet to come. Tiny pink buds formed little bumps along the stems of formerly naked trees.

All around me were signs of new life.

July is the coldest winter month, the one we often view as something to endure on our way to warmer weather. We bustle through the mall with hunched shoulders and pinched faces, darting from one toasty shop to the next, barely stopping to greet familiar friends in our hurry to get out of the cold. We battle coughs and colds and long for the carefree vitality we associate with summer. Yet in the midst of the chills and discomforts of our frigid days God gently whispers to us through His creation, “Winter will not last forever.

Spring is coming.”

Our family has had some difficult ‘winters’ in the last couple of years – long bouts of whooping cough, a sudden brush with death and slow recovery, cancer diagnosis for a precious grandpa followed by his rapid decline and passing.

The winters of our lives can feel terribly harsh. Unbearable. Like stark trees in the garden, we feel stripped back to bare bones. Completely void of life. We drag ourselves through each day, weighed down by the heaviness of the struggle, often convinced that it will never end.

Yet it will.

Winter, no matter how harsh, does not last forever. Spring will come. The darkness and heartache will pass and, while some things in our lives may have permanently changed, we will experience beauty and joy again.

Spring will surely come.

But here’s an important thought to ponder: The health and splendour of our spring plants is dependent on how well-rooted they were through the winter months. It’s in winter, when everything appears lifeless, that the plant is preparing for spring, drawing deeply from nourishment in the soil and forming its next season’s shoots.

We may not see much happening on the outside but there is a whole lot going on under the surface.

So it is with us. We can choose in our wintertime to put our roots down deep and draw from the living source. Or we can battle it out alone and just barely survive to emerge in the spring.

I’m reminded of a favourite passage in Jeremiah 17:7-8.

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,

Whose confidence is in Him.

He will be like a tree planted by the water

That sends out its roots by the stream.

It does not fear when heat comes;

Its leaves are always green.

It has no worries in a year of drought

And never fails to bear fruit.”

I want to live a life that—like spring blooms—can bring joy and beauty to others. How about you?

For that to happen, we need to stay connected with our Maker, through every season.

Only then can we be a channel of His life and hope.