God

When Obedience Hurts

~ Susan Brown ~ 5 Comments

January 15th. With one final sweeping curve I departed Launceston’s outskirts and accelerated down the long, black stretch of the Midlands Highway. The engine hummed and morning rays stretched their glowing fingers over lush paddocks. A flock of cockatoos, snowy white and pale sulfur, winged gracefully over a clear blue canvas, their raucous squawking bringing a smile to my face. Funny birds! Thank you, LORD. What a gift! He knew how much I revelled in watching birds soar—so triumphant, so free!

My eyes dropped to the silver tailgate of Mark’s car just ahead of mine, memories rolling through my mind like an old home movie. Another day two years before. Three Browns; two cars. Mark in his car, Esther and I together, our cat in a cage on the back seat. Long hours, many hours passing bustling suburbs and iconic country towns on the road of adventure into a new season. There was grief in that journey—two of our children had stayed behind—and our hearts bled as the distance between us grew. Still, we took comfort in the three we were as we prayerfully ventured forth. My daughter and I sang, swapped stories and talked through our emotions, wondering what God had ahead.

Photo by Dylan Crandell Photography

Now there were two Browns. And I was driving alone.

God, I can’t believe I’m doing this! Again! A sob swelled in my chest, rising like a mounting wave, clogging my throat and pricking my eyes with tears. This time, when God’s call came to move, our youngest—fresh out of school—chose to stay behind. And I wasn’t ready!

Jesus died.

The words came as clearly as if spoken aloud, reverberating through my aching heart and pausing my lament.

Jesus.Died.

‘Oh, God!’ I whispered, inhaling sharply as I pictured Jesus hanging on the cross. ‘You get it! Your Son died!’  I swallowed, tasting for the first time the pain God endured when He sacrificed His son so I could know Him. Unlike Jesus, my daughter wasn’t dead. She was well, settled in a lovely, peaceful home with good company, and enjoying her first taste of independence. We would only live three hours apart. Still, my mama heart ached.   

The cross image faded and another formed: Mark and I standing on a platform in dark suit and white silk gown, eyes closed, heads high and faces aglow, singing, ‘When I Survey the Wondrous Cross’. I drew in a long breath and exhaled through pursed lips as I watched the scene unfold, stunned by the purity—and naivety—of my devotion in that moment. Did I understand then how costly obedience could be? It felt like a lifetime since that day. Could I sing that song now with the same conviction?

Another deep breath, a lowering of my shoulders and I began. Eloquent words of wonder, reverence and surrender penned three hundred years ago carried from my lips, each inscribed on my soul as I voiced them. Jesus—the Prince of glory—died! He bore the weight of all myfailures and the punishment I deserved, surrendering His body, soul and spirit to suffering beyond my comprehension. Jesus knew how painful obedience could be. He knew! And He was with me in my grief.

I reached the crescendo, my heart weighing each word as they poured from my lips.  

‘Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.’

There it was—perspective. Even if I owned the whole world, it would not be enough to repay God for His gift to me.

Photo by Duncan Sanchez

CT Studd’s words rang in my ears,

‘If Jesus Christ be God and died for me, 

then no sacrifice can be too great for me to make for Him.’

What option did I have? Jesus had given His all for me. How could I not surrender my life in return?

I sang the last line again—and again—nodding slowly as I stared down the highway into an unclear future. ‘Yes, LORD. You are worthy.’

His response was immediate. And just as I have led you this far, I will hold you all the way. Your family too. All is well, darling. And all will be well. Trust Me. I’ve got you. All of you. And I am working all this for good.

‘If anyone would come after me, they must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.’

Matthew 16:24-25

‘In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.’

Romans 8:28

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.

Death…and Life

~ Susan Brown ~ 5 Comments

Last winter I held my father-in-law while he took his final raspy breaths. My hair hung in his face as I stroked his balding head and planted trembling, tear-drenched lips on his forehead … over and over and over. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He was Grandpa to our children, the first grandparent to live near enough to visit every week. We’d only had him around for four years. Surely it wasn’t time for him to go yet.

Two winters ago I almost died. Sepsis – an unknown killer that masquerades as a virus – sent me into a nasty downward spiral. Hours stretched long as weakness and pain intensified, dragging me steadily to the end of my strength. Just as I ran out of fight, the process was halted. A myriad of kind hospital staff, fervent prayers and soft, warm blankets worked together to quietly but firmly pull me back from the brink.

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Doctors told me later how close things had been. I’d almost stepped through the veil into the heavenly realms. Part of me longed to know what that was like, to enter right into the fullness and wonder of God’s presence. The other part sighed with relief. I was still here to love and care for my family. Most of all I struggled to comprehend that my life had almost ended.

Was I really that frail?

The following days in ICU taught me how very fragile I was. The littlest tasks were either impossible or left me exhausted and breathless. Reality stared me in the face: I wasn’t the strong woman I’d always imagined myself to be. In a matter of moments everything could change. Or even end.

Those old, familiar, time-worn words echoed their truth loudly in my heart, “Life is a gift.”

I’ve known the wonder – four times – of clutching a warm, wet newborn to my breast, my heart beating in sync with theirs as my eyes drank in every inch of their perfection. Such miracles.

I’ve been overwhelmed by sorrow as I cradled the beautiful, lifeless form of a precious nephew, hello and goodbye tears streaming, mingled, from my eyes. Such heartbreak.

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Each of us follows a winding path through the years we spend on earth. We can’t always see what’s around the corner. On we travel through various seasons, some of great joy and some of deep sorrow, many which seem ordinary and insignificant. Through it all one truth remains the same.

We don’t have forever.

Our life on earth is transient. The miracle of conception marks its beginning and death its end.

Somehow I lost sight of this.

Somehow I believed I had unlimited years to follow God’s plan for me. There was time, I thought, to waft off-track chasing glistening, empty bubbles, just for the sheer pleasure of it. Surely those higher pursuits could wait a while.

They can’t.

There will come a time when each of us will take our last raspy breath. None of us know exactly when that day will be. Standing in God’s presence, we’ll have opportunity to look back and reflect on the path we’ve walked. Will we have regrets? Will we be satisfied? Will we wish we could go back and do things differently?

Hindsight is a wonderful teacher. But there will come a day when it’s too late to change course. Our life on earth will have reached its end. Now is the time to pause and consider the way we’re walking through our days.

King Solomon once said, “The wisdom of the prudent is to give thought to their ways.” (Proverbs 14:8)

Prudence, better known as good sense, is not out-of-date. If we will only take time to reflect and make necessary changes, we can live a life that has no regrets. Isn’t that what we all want…really?

This life we’ve been given is a treasure indeed. Let’s not waste it.