Sowing each day

by grace alone 

We are all waiting for a harvest.

We long to see God’s good fruit bear throughout our world, our relationships, and our own sinful hearts. But God is always patiently working. I write words in order to remind myself of the glorious truths of who our God is, what he has done, and what he has promised us even while we wait. 

Take some time to think on the ways the Lord has already been growing a harvest by downloading my free set of readings on Remembering Our Memorials.

Articles  

Building 5255

Building 5255

The building towered above me. Squares of glass stretched up and out to either side, broken only by the large symbols that gave it its name: 5255. An unfeeling name for a place that holds a trove of emotions.

I’d been here before. As I circled the crowded parking lot with my five-year old in the back seat, I was transported back in time. Eight years ago I was alone—well, not really. I scanned the parking spaces until I rejoiced to find an opening in the front. “Parking reserved for Pregnant and New Mothers.” Jackpot. I clutched my purse and slid out of the driver’s seat, eager for my first appointment with my new obstetrician.

Little did I know how often I’d return to this same parking lot—to this same building. How many times would I repeat this dance around its painted lines? A future I didn’t know ran far ahead of me, knitting my life’s events together in ways I couldn’t imagine just then.

I entered that building dozens of times as both of my boys grew in my womb. I witnessed their little flips, kicks, and growing bodies before my eyes. I waited in wonder and hope for the new blessings that would come to our family.

Yet as much as that rigid building gave, it also took. Years later I’d tepidly walk hand in hand with my husband to a waiting room before the fifth surgery of my life. I would wake up, smothered by heavy blankets while my teeth chattered and my eyes expelled tears from pain. I’d tell myself that I couldn’t do this ever again. But I would. I’d enter the very same building five years later for surgery number six.

Now, as I circle the parking lot with my five-year-old in the backseat, the building beside us shifts into more than concrete, glass, and steel. It’s a piece of my own life—a mighty oak that rises in the midst of my path that I continue to circle round. And I wonder at the connection of it all.

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Living in the Blackened Forest

Living in the Blackened Forest

Our feet trudged up the dirt hill, winding through sticks and roots. To the sides of me rose dark, mighty trunks, reaching up toward the sky. Their limbs were shorn off, leaving the tall blackened corpses towering eerily in the forest. The ash-covered pillars extended...

Stop Starting Over

Stop Starting Over

What are you starting over this week? As the weekends inch closer to Monday, brand new promises begin to cycle through our heads. Our diet begins today. Our workout plan starts now. Since the slip-ups of our weekend are past, we can start again with our early...

The Church on the End of the Line

The Church on the End of the Line

Every other Monday evening, I hastily move through our kids' bedtime routine, and grab for my phone as the minutes tick closer to the hour. More often than not I’m late—when bedtime questions, stories, or melt-downs take over. Yet in that routine hour from 8 to 9 PM,...

My name is Brianna Lambert. I’m a wife, mom to three sweet kids, and a writer. I write for fun, I write in order to worship, and most of all I write with the hope that a sentence or a phrase might cause you to glory a little more in the Lord who made and redeemed us. Click here to find out more about me and how this blog came to be.

We can rejoice that the God who provided means for our justification is just as invested in providing for our needs of sanctification. We live by his grace alone.

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