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Monday, September 3, 2012

Abide. Proclaim. Bestow.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, says Isaiah*, and later Christ in the Gospels*.

The words unravel and re-weave this anointing of my flesh, the very calling of my spirit. I know deep and hard this work and this purpose.

I write to proclaim release to the captives.

I write, as Christ lives, to provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty* by pointing to freedom, proclaiming release.

It is my longing to tell you, with all of my breath every day and forever, to take heart dear friend and receive the crown of beauty. Throw open your arms and soar a while in your own sweet release, because I have known it, because it is magnificent.

But I forget, daily, to breathe in and receive. I forget to slow the thundering hooves and linger in my freedom long enough to proclaim it. I wash laundry and file papers and shepherd babies and my fingers don't find the keyboard. I make phone calls and wonder where the days go and when I will find the time to proclaim release when I'm jailing my very self with too much of the wrong kind of work and sit behind the bars of self-doubt to mold a casing around my tender heart with the liar's black clay.

I am mentally and spiritually aware that to abide is not merely to obey or to exist. This awareness, though, comes up shy of internal some days and days turn into weeks as days are wont to do.

And so I make the paper remember for the words to instruct when the brain forgets. I make the schedule to cradle a cushion to abide, a daily space for the fingers to find the keyboard: first, time to read and sit and pray and receive, then 4 hours a day of like-it-or-not writing time, beginning tomorrow. No excuses. No escape.


I am a writer before I am a housekeeper.
I am a writer before I am a chef.
I am a writer before I am an interior designer, a patio sweeper, a phone app dawdler, a grocery shopper, an iced-tea guzzler.
I am a writer before I am a Facebook junkee, a Twitter checker, a Pinterest surfer.

And? I am a mother before I am a writer. A wife, a daughter, a friend. So I puzzle the things together and remember them all as gifts. 

I must first breathe in my freedom and break through with release. First, I dance, radiant, with my flowering crown of beauty.




And Write.

Will you join me, too, in this?

Abide, dear friend. Live in creativity. Live in amazement. Live in love. And let the rest all fall away.

And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you'll be able to take in with all Christians the extravagant dimensions of Christ's love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God.
                                                                                                -Ephesians 3:14-19

*Isaiah 61:1-3, Luke 4:16-21


  1. Oh, Cara. This, your voice, singing it loud and clear and free; reminding yourself, reminding me, us, of this sweet place of abiding and becoming... Oh, sister. Sing, sing, sing. Love you so much & love, love these words.

  2. Cara, oh, how you bless me with your beauty, your words resounding truth and courage, claiming for you -- for us -- the reminder of Whose we are and what we each have, uniquely, to do! I write with you tomorrow, my friend. Four hours . . . Yes. {I so needed this encouragement, from Him, tonight. Thank you.}

  3. I read this through three times straight because my soul needed it. Thank you.

  4. Ladies bible study tonight. . .talked about so much of this, but different source material. God says make time, not even a lot, to spend with me, to hear me, to feel the freedom I give. Break down the lies, break them off your heart. What a visual, "the liar's black clay" swallowing my tender heart. Break it off all of us, Lord. Let us feel your pleasure!

  5. Thanks, Cara -- that was good for me to read right now -- too many things nipping at my heels. Well done. dc

  6. Oooh, this is so good!!!! Especially this: "wonder where the days go and when I will
    find the time to proclaim release when I'm jailing my very self with too
    much of the wrong kind of work and sit behind the bars of self-doubt to mold a
    casing around my tender heart with the liar's black clay." The wrong kind of work. Yes. I know what that means. And the self-doubt and the liar's black clay. This is almost like a manifesto declaring freedom from bondage!!

  7. Beautiful thoughts on abiding in Him. Thank you for sharing. Abide is one of the synonyms for the word I have chosen for the year - Dwell. Great scripture reference, too.


Your comments are such an encouragement. Thank you for sharing your valuable words.