A Little Like Noah

Driving home on I-75 in a rain storm is probably the most stressful part of my day. During the summer, in Florida, this is a typical, daily occurrence. A few years ago, during one of these monsoons, I hydroplaned off the interstate and ended up hanging upside down in my seatbelt. Suffice it to say I don’t want to repeat that incident. When it’s raining, I’m praying. Loud.

This week has brought a string of frog-stranglers – most of them conveniently starting about 5pm. I usually take a long, hard look at the radar on my computer before leaving work so I can decide if I want to chance taking the interstate or take a country back road to avoid the slip-n-slide indy-car racers.

Tuesday afternoon, I made the wrong call. The radar showed the red clumps moving to the northwest, away from the interstate. The guy in charge of the radar at NOAA must have been on break or something.

Because that radar was wrong.

Now, I’ve spent ten years driving up and down I-75. And I’ve driven through some storms. But Tuesday was something else.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few cars that had hydroplaned and now rested at odd angles in the median. I was afraid. The enemy kept whispering “you’re next.” Every time my tires hit another deep pond of water, shifting the car slightly, my stomach lurched.

Unable to make out anything other than the fat white line on the side of the road, and afraid to pull off the road for fear of being hit, I kept driving at 20 miles per hour, while the doubletime beat of the flashers and wipers accompanied my fervent appeal for deliverance.

Gradually, I became aware that I was feeling a disconnect from my situation. The fear seemed to be pressing toward me, reaching out to me, but a buffer had come between me and the fear. It seemed like angels were pressing in to shield me and the fear was being displaced to somewhere just beyond them.

Twenty minutes later I pulled in my driveway and got out of the car in the bright, sweltering, August sunshine. Sighing another “thank you, Lord,” I glanced southeast, toward the storm I’d just driven through. A smile crept across my face … and grew to a great big grin. There – between me and the storm – was a rainbow.

That would just seem a coincidence to most. But I know what it meant. You see, a few minutes earlier, I had just asked the Lord to never allow me to drive through a storm of that intensity ever again.

God didn’t have to put that rainbow there. But He did. Just for me.

I think I felt a little like how Noah must have felt when he saw the very first rainbow.

Except that his storm lasted forty days, during which he was mucking elephant stalls. Mine was only forty minutes. No elephants.

Still Good

We were introduced to a new song at worship team practice the other night. It’s one of those songs that you just know was written from the depths of anguish in someone’s heart. The team quickly embraced the song and included it in our Sunday morning set.

Today I sang that song in earnest – from the depths of an anguished heart – to my Father.

I received word that my cousin, who has been battling cancer for well over a year now, is not doing very well. From a human perspective, the outlook is bleak.

But God isn’t surprised by these present circumstances. In His economy, this situation is just a vapor in the wind. We MUST trust implicitly that He is working all this for our good. Stretching our faith. Growing our testimony. Drawing us closer to Him.

There are many times that we cannot feel God’s presence in the middle of a crisis. But that doesn’t mean that He’s not there, that He doesn’t care, that we are not still safe in the palm of His Hand.

This song ministers to me today and I want to share it with you. There will come a day when it feels like the sky is falling down all around you. This is a song you need to have in your worship arsenal.

He is still God. And He is still good.


I’ll Just Worship
(www.tonysutherland.com)

When the night is falling on me
And the dread is pounding on my heart
When sorrow chases me so deep into the dark
When the fear is growing in me
And the pain is more than I can bare
When the silence echoes out and I can’t see You there
You’re still God
You’re still good

I’ll just worship You, I’ll just worship You
I’ll just worship You, that’s what these tears were made for
I’ll just worship You, I’ll trust everything You do
I’ll just lift my hands and worship

When the clouds are swirling ‘round me
And they try to cover up the light
When the rain comes pouring down and there’s no end in sight
When the storms of life are raging
And my faith is tossin’ in the wind
Then I come running to Your loving arms again
You are God
You are good

I’ll just worship You, I’ll just worship You
I’ll just worship You, that’s what these tears were made for
I’ll just worship You, I’ll trust everything You do
I’ll just lift my hands and worship

You are faithful always
You are faithful always
You are faithful always

Simply Undone

Worship and writing are the two passions that God instilled in me. The following is a part of my testimony and details the events leading up to the moment the burning passion for Worship ignited within my soul.

When my now-husband first invited me to his church in 2000, I hadn’t darkened the door of a church for nearly 15 years. It was the first charismatic/pentecostal service I experienced as an adult. My upbringing resurfaced, and I immediately categorized the character of the service as a “show,” including - and especially - the music. The worship pastor, Chris Allen, was this big ole crazy guy that jumped up and down, pounded on the keyboard, threw his head back and closed his eyes as he sang. The choir was only slightly more reserved while (gasp!) raising their hands, which made me terribly uncomfortable. I grew up in a conservative church where these types of displays were eschewed, and even considered nonsensical. Looked a lot like Vegas to me.

Early in our relationship, then marriage, we attended services haphazardly, mostly attending out of expectation and churlish obedience. We had been married a little over a year when God finally got our attention in a way we could not ignore. In the tragic events of that Labor Day weekend in 2003, He conveyed that He would no longer accept the little bit of our time or attention that we offered when it was convenient for us. Beginning now - it was all or nothing.

I made sure I was in service every Sunday, even with Craig’s demolished shoulder and arm in a sling, through the weeks of agonizing recovery after surgery to rebuild his shoulder, with his three pre-teen children in my charge. To add to the quagmire of my life, I had just begun a new job, totally out of my realm of experience and comfort. I remember sitting in church thinking "ok, God. I'm here. So now what?" Petulant - like a child sitting in the corner after being caught with hand in cookie jar - but I knew better than to disobey God.

As I soon discovered, choosing the right habits - even when the heart isn’t thoroughly engaged - can ultimately bring contentment, pleasure and wisdom. Weeks of hearing the Word again on a regular basis. The knowledge that God had indeed spoken to my heart on the river bank that fateful day. Being consistently exposed to a company of godly people. Hearing the testimonies of answered prayer. The Holy Spirit was doing a work in me. He was softening my heart and my spirit and encouraging me to draw nearer. I saw transformations in lives all around me. I knew God was at work in this place. I found myself wanting more.

But I still inwardly sneered at the worship service. You know, we really are afraid of what we don’t understand. And when we are afraid, we tend to act out in a defiant, pretentious manner in order to mask the fear. Yet, somewhere deep in my soul, I knew this was no Vegas show. The palpable presence of the Holy Spirit was very apparent. I could not deny that this was real.

I’ll never forget the Sunday morning I finally “got it.” I don’t remember the sermon that was preached day. I don’t even remember the song we were singing when it happened. Pastor Chris and the choir were at full throttle. All at once, I began singing the song directly to God from my heart. The tears of gratitude tumbled down my face. I didn’t concentrate on singing the melody perfectly. In fact, I’m pretty sure I stopped singing altogether. I was communing with my Savior, I was speaking/singing these words directly to Him.

My pitiful life, pieced together and now held tightly within His grace. The awful pit He plucked me from. The rebellious run I had been on the past 20 years. All those things hit me with such force that I was stricken by His Grace, by His Sacrifice, utterly humbled that He died to save me.

It was as if Jesus stood in front of me, presenting me with a box that held all the junk of my past. He closed and sealed the box with His Blood. All I could do was worship His Holiness.

The physical and spiritual sensation I experienced was likened to a volcano erupting from deep inside me, the energy of the Holy Spirit filling every crevice in this cracked pot of clay, then overflowing into the very air around me. I knew I had come closer to the Throne that I ever had before. My innermost self was totally exposed to Him in this very tender moment. The presence of God was so strong around me that I felt … simply undone.

This is where true worship begins. At the end of ourselves. Abasing ourselves and remembering where we were when He found us and what He saved us from. If we start there, there is no other reasonable response than to praise and worship Him with total abandon. He alone is worthy.

Kingdom Relationships

In the summer of 2007, I attended She Speaks conference in Charlotte with high hopes that I would leave with, at the very least, a favorable word from a publisher on a book I was writing.

Several tears later, I came to the conclusion that, not only was my book proposal not ready, but neither was I.

But I did leave the conference with a unexpected, rare treasure.

As part of the writers’ track, I was enrolled in a writer’s critique group. At the table, each of us passed out copies of five different writing pieces to the group and began reading. All was silent for about 15 minutes. Then we took turns offering encouragement and suggestions to the authors of each piece.

One of the girls had read my testimony and asked the others if she could read it aloud. By the time she finished, there were more than a few misty eyes. That alone gave me encouragement. If hearts are touched, then I’ve accomplished His purpose.

The girl that read my testimony to the group touched my heart. She had a sparkle that was intriguing. We talked at length that evening and kept touching base the rest of the weekend between our breakout sessions. Before leaving on Sunday afternoon, we traded email addresses and promised to stay in touch. Which is something I’m not very good at. Staying in touch, I mean.

Then, something that I really didn’t expect to happen … did.

I visited her blog and we occasionally emailed. Once I joined the blogging world, we kept up with each other via our blogs and became fast friends. I learned more about her family: two sweet boys and that teckie husband of hers, The Finkster. I wept with her at the loss of Romeo, her pup. I laughed when the entire family tried to break their habit of using the word “poop” in conversation. I read “The Shack” along with her and we traded thoughts and insights about that incredible book. I watched her organize her house, and followed her weight loss journey with admiration. She has such a sweet, fun spirit and draws you in with her warmth and contagious joy.

Never thought it possible to know someone so well by following their blog.

When I registered for She Speaks 2009, I asked her if she planned to go. Before we knew it, we were planning to room together and stay up all night talking … as though we’d been lifelong friends.

Now - after the fact - it feels as though we have been.

The conference was incredible. I gleaned much from the knowledgeable speakers. But the extra-special treat that God had planned for me was to spend quality time with my Sister, Stephanie. Knowledge fades. Kingdom relationships are eternal.

Stephanie and me

Debrief

I needed a solid week of time alone with God after She Speaks. The long trip home on Sunday afternoon was an introspective one. What will I do with what He revealed to me this weekend?

Knowing that my time over the next few hours would be consumed with unpacking and laundry, catch up time with my family, and then heading back to the mountain of work on my desk at the office, inside I felt the strange contradiction of despair and peace.

Despair that I would not have the extended alone-time with God that I desired and needed.

Peace that – somehow – despite my despair, His purpose in my life is being fulfilled.

I am an ADHD Type-A, that lives by lists, clocks and calendars. Much to my consternation however, life refuses to cooperate with my schedule.

Spare time is a rare commodity in my little corner of the world. With a fulltime job located fifty miles down the road, husband, daughter and four hounds at home, commitments to the worship team and women’s ministry, there is very little time left to sleep, let alone write.

Over and over during the past few years, I’ve been ready to give up on a writing ministry. But each time I decided that there are not enough minutes in my day to pursue writing, the Holy Spirit has shown me something; dropped a new truth or parallel into my spirit … and I felt compelled to write it down.

I used to resent the 100 mile round trip commute to work that consumes nearly 2 hours of my day. Now it has become an extension of my quiet time, an opportunity to enter into praise and worship - as long as I keep one hand on the wheel and one eye open. Instead of being time wasted, it has become prime time for the Holy Spirit to speak to me. God is using this time of captivity in the driver’s seat to fill my heart with His encouragement.

I don’t have to commute to work …
I am ABLE to.

I used to resent having to work hard at an office all day instead of being able to sit at my computer at home, studying God’s Word and writing. But He never fails: just as I near the burn-out point and don’t think I can stand to do it one more minute, someone in the office comes to me with a problem because she knows I am a Believer and can give her something to hold onto and pray for her. God is reminding me that I have a mission field – right here, right now, at this law office.

I don’t have to work here …
I am ABLE to.

I attended this year’s She Speaks with a different motive than the first in 2007. This year, I had no book proposal in hand. I held no pre-conceived notions of what my future might hold when I left Charlotte. Just an open heart and willing spirit to accept whatever God had waiting for me. The only thing I expected was to be refreshed and encouraged … and to hear from God. He did not disappoint.

So amid the family, work, ministry and just plain-old-life that happens throughout my day, I’ve decided to anticipate the next time I get just five minutes. Five minutes with keyboard at fingertips to form coherent sentences out of the thoughts He has whispered to my soul. Five minutes at a time….

I don’t have to complain about no time to write …
I am ABLE to take advantage of these few minutes.

He does not call and equip me without making a way to fulfill that calling. I’m resting in His promise recorded in Philippians 1:6: Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.