Tag Archives: Peace

Preparing and Dwelling: Martha’s Hands, Mary’s Heart

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by Pastor Dee

After prayer and time in the Word this morning, the Lord put this on my heart. I’m sharing it simply as a new member of the Singing Women of Texas, West Chapter who loves Jesus with all my heart and wants to be faithful to Jesus.

I’m realizing that practice is my “Martha” offering.
I show up, mark my music, blend, breathe, and listen — because I want to make room for others to meet Jesus (Luke 10:38–40). That preparation is hospitality. It is love in the details. It’s my way of saying,
“Lord, You are worthy of my best.” (Psalm 33:3)

But when the service begins, my heart shifts.
It’s time to be “Mary.”
It’s time to lay the work down and sit at His feet (Luke 10:41–42).
One thing is needed: His presence.

This is not performance.
This is worship.

I set my eyes on Jesus (Heb. 12:2).
I quiet my soul — “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10).
I remember that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).
Jesus is the Light of the world, and when we sing His Word, light breaks in (John 8:12; Ps. 119:130).

Singing together helps me experience the Body of Christ as one body with one voice — many hearts, one prayer (Rom. 15:5–6; Eph. 5:19).
If my faith feels dim, your voice helps me see again.
If someone in the room is weary, our shared song can lift their eyes to the Lord (Matt. 5:14–16).

In His light we see light (Ps. 36:9).
His Word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path (Ps. 119:105).
And I believe the Lord truly is enthroned on the praises of His people (Ps. 22:3). When we adore Him, He gathers our scattered thoughts and brings holy order to our hearts.

This is the rhythm He’s teaching me:

Prepare like Martha.
Worship like Mary.
Then rise and go with His presence into the world He loves (Matt. 28:19–20).

My rehearsal is service.
My worship is encounter.
My sending is mission.
All of it for His glory, all by His grace (Rom. 11:36).

This is what I carry in my heart when I take my place in the choir loft:
I’m here for Jesus.
I offer Him my voice, my breath, my attention, my love.
And then I rest in Him, trusting that He will make of it a song someone needs to hear today (Ps. 40:3).

Short Blessing Prayer

Lord Jesus, tune my heart to Yours.
Let Your Word light my way, and let Your presence be the song I sing.
Use our choir’s offering to draw many to Your feet.
Pour peace and joy over Joanna today.
Amen.

Stepping Into Harmony: The Hope of Hosea 14:4

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A Conversation in the Choir Loft…Learning to Rest in the One Who Holds the Harmony

This past month, I joined the Singing Women of Texas, West Chapter. Many of these musicians have sung together for years, their harmonies woven through countless seasons of ministry. But for me, it was the first time I had sung in a choir in nearly twenty‑five years. I walked into that rehearsal room a little nervous, aware of how new I was and how long it had been since I blended my voice with others. It reminded me of Joshua stepping into leadership after Moses — surrounded by people who had walked this road far longer than he had, stepping into something familiar for them but brand‑new for him. And just as God told Joshua to take courage because He was with him, I sensed that same quiet encouragement as I stepped into this new season with trembling but willing faith.

So when I stepped into that room—new, nervous, and unsure—the kindness I received echoed the heart of Hosea 14:4: the God who meets us in our weakness, restores us in love, and draws us close even when we feel off‑key.   I will heal their faithlessness; I will love them freely, For my anger has turned from them. (Hosea 14:4)

That is Hosea 14:4 in our rehearsal‑room.

God doesn’t say, “Fix it first.”
He doesn’t say, “Get the notes right, then come back.”
He says:

“I will heal your faithlessness.”

He steps toward us while we’re still singing the wrong notes.
He wraps covenant love around our dissonance.
He restores the relationship His people fractured.
He loves us freely—not because we earned it, but because He is who He is.

And just like my Alto sisters who sat with me afterward—prayed with me, shared a meal with me—God’s healing doesn’t stop at forgiveness. It leads to fellowship. It leads to belonging. It leads to a table.

Bringing the Principle Home

Here’s what Hosea 14:4 invites us to remember today:

God’s healing reminds us that restoration is always His work, never ours; just as Israel’s faithlessness was a spiritual illness they could not cure on their own, we too depend entirely on God to mend what is broken in us. He loves without hesitation—freely, fully, and without conditions—stepping toward us with the kind of grace that leans in gently when we miss the note. His restoration is deeply relational, bringing intimacy, beauty, and renewed connection, much like the imagery of the lily, fragrance, and Lebanon that speaks of a love-song relationship restored. And what God restores, He places back into community, just as the early church saw Hosea’s promise as a doorway welcoming believers into a new family—restored, renamed, and embraced. In the same way my singing sisters turned wrong notes into fellowship, God often uses our shortcomings as the very places where His love becomes most visible.

A Gentle Challenge (for our hearts)

What if we stopped hiding the notes we miss?

What if we brought our spiritual “off‑pitch moments” to the One who heals faithlessness?

And what if we became for others what those women were for me—voices of grace, not judgment… companions at the table… reminders that God loves freely?

Shall we pray?

Heavenly Father,
Thank You for being the God who heals because we can’t.
Thank You for loving us freely—without hesitation, without condition, without turning away.

Where we are faithless, heal us.
Where we are wounded, restore us.
Where we feel unworthy, speak Your love again.

Make our lives like a harmony of grace—
carrying others, forgiving quickly,
and reflecting the tenderness with which You love Your people.

Gather us, restore us, and tune our hearts to Your mercy.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Be Still… Means What?

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“Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!” — Psalm 46:10

Yesterday was a busy day! My mind was already rehearsing everything on the schedule: a discussion thread for my Theology of the Gospel class, breathing exercises, and those pesky diphthongs and consonants slowing me down as I practiced the two contest pieces for The Sweet Adelines. My sisters in the group are so graceful—their movements flow effortlessly from their beautiful singing. How do they do that? Their unity, precision, and blend make every rehearsal feel like stepping into something artful and spiritual at the same time.

But as I moved into the rhythm of my morning, I suddenly realized I was stepping into my day without King Jesus. My heart wanted to be still. I wanted to listen. I wanted to walk with Him, not ahead of Him—so He could show me how even my simple, ordinary day could be used to further His Kingdom. It was in that quiet awareness that the Holy Spirit spoke so gently to my spirit: “Be still and know that I am God.”
Be still. Even the words felt like a soft place to rest.

A Closer Look at Psalm 46:10

Psalm 46:10 marks the climax of the psalm, where the voice shifts dramatically from human speakers to God Himself. It moves from describing God to hearing directly from God. It is an invitation, not just a statement.

“Be still”

The Hebrew command does not simply mean “be quiet” or “calm down.”
It means:

  • Lay down your weapons.
  • Stop striving.
  • Cease your war.

It’s a call to stop fighting battles that belong to God.

“Know that I am God”

This is not about having all the answers or understanding every detail of God’s timing. This knowing is:

  • recognizing God’s ultimate sovereignty,
  • trusting Him when the script is unclear,
  • surrendering control.

And God’s sovereignty is not small or private—it stretches among the nations and throughout the earth. His glory is not limited to one moment or one people. It is universal.

What It Meant to the Original Audience

Psalm 46 was a declaration of trust in the midst of overwhelming threat. Scholars identify the probable historical backdrop as the terrifying advance of Sennacherib’s Assyrian army. Nations were raging, kingdoms were shaking, and everything around them screamed danger.

Yet the refrain carried Israel through:

God is with us.
God is our refuge.
God is our peace—even when creation itself trembles.

The psalm offered ancient Judah the same thing it offers us today: unshakeable confidence in an unshakable God.

Why It Matters Today

Our world, too, feels loud:

  • natural disasters,
  • climate anxieties,
  • wars and rumors of wars,
  • personal chaos and constant noise.

Psalm 46 speaks directly into our age of hurry. It is a soundtrack for human anxiety. Mountains quake, waters roar, nations rise and fall—and our hearts do the same.

God’s invitation to stillness is not an escape or self-manufactured calm. True stillness begins with Him.
With knowing Him.
With receiving His peace rather than producing our own.

In fact, when read through an eschatological lens—a vision of God’s final victory—the psalm becomes even more powerful. It reminds us:

The world may shake,
but God does not.

And one day every nation and every corner of the earth will exalt Him.

Let it be so in my life.
Let it be so in your life.

A Prayer

Heavenly Father,

I come before You, letting go of my busyness and lifting my hands in exaltation, because You will be exalted in the earth. I choose not to fight against Your will. I gladly make You sovereign in my heart and in my day.

Receive my praise—why it is worthy to enter Your presence is a mystery I will never understand this side of heaven. But I offer it in faith. I acknowledge You as the Supreme God of my life and proclaim Your greatness with all I am.

Alleluia!

In Jesus’ precious name,
Amen.