Unreasonable Grace

Map? or Mapquest?

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 02:58:00 +0000

On our summer trip to the mountains, I was the self-appointed navigator with my road atlas at hand. You know how men are about asking for directions.

As we got closer to Atlanta, Craig asked me where we would exit I-75. For a moment, I studied the map of the metro area. Confusion filled my mind. Uh-oh. This was the same place I got mixed up on this trip last year. The map in my atlas wasn’t showing the exit I remembered.

And I had forgotten to print out the Mapquest directions that we had used last year.

(Can I just insert here that I absolutely abhor driving in and around cities the size of Atlanta? I’d personally rather drive 200 miles out of the way than drive the interstate system around Atlanta. I tried to convince Craig to take 441 all the way to North Carolina, but the look he gave me would shrivel a Georgia peach right off the branch.)

Craig listened to me whine all the way around Atlanta and I finally breathed a sigh of relief when we merged onto the familiar road that would lead us through northeast Georgia and into North Carolina.

Frankly, I was a bit miffed at the road atlas. Why was it wrong? I’ve heard that every map must contain at least one mistake; that way the owner of the copyright will be able to identify his map. But why did this mistake have to be in Atlanta, of all places? Probably the worst place in the entire world to drive. Seemed to me they could put their intentional error in a less lethal place on the map.

Rather miffed himself, Craig casually drawled “just how old is that map you are looking at?”

Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.

Half-hearted, I leafed through the pages at the front of the atlas. Briefly, I thought about distracting him and changing the subject. But I looked at him … and laughed instead. He already knew.

© 1990.

Just a little out-dated.

As I settle into the fifth decade of my time on this planet, I’ve been pondering what my next thirty-or-so years will hold.

It would be very nice to have a map of my future. At least just the high points. Will my cabin in the mountains be there? Will anything I write ever be published? Will my husband and I remain healthy and thoroughly enjoy our senior years together? What will our grandkids be like? Will our youngest be a missionary in a third-world country?

But I guess knowing all that now would kinda dull the edge of the anticipation - the excitement and hopeful promise of the unknown.

What I do know about my future is that I will follow Christ all the rest of my days. While I don’t know exactly where my footsteps will fall, or exactly how He will use me in His Kingdom, I have an accurate map to follow.

I don’t have to check mapquest because this map is always accurate. Never needs updating. Works the same today as it did when my grandparents were growing up. And it will still point the true way one hundred years from now.

His Word never changes. The truths held there in are timeless because the Author of Truth is timeless. It has the answer for all of life’s questions, crises and problems.

God’s Word is the Mapquest for our lives: His Word is a lamp for our feet and a light for our path (Ps 119:105). Just enough light for our next step. I guess it wouldn’t require a whole lot of faith to follow Him if we could see into the future. One step at a time keeps us dependent on and trusting Him.

Remember when you were little and your daddy told you “I have a surprise for you!”?

In Jeremiah 29:11, He says “I know the plans I have for you. They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

If my earthly daddy’s surprise was wonderful, I suspect that my Heavenly Father’s surprise is gonna be out of this world!

A Holy Wink

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 00:07:00 +0000

Have you ever been in a crowded room – maybe a party or family gathering – separated from your husband? The girls all around you are busy gabbing, sharing stories, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. For just a moment, you look across the room and see your husband watching you with that knowing smile on his face. You smile – and he winks. That warm, fuzzy feeling just crawls all over you. You might even blush.

Sunday morning I was talking to Tina about an upcoming baby shower for a sweet family in our church. Since we are a new, fast growing fellowship, it’s difficult to know everyone by name. So I thought I’d put a picture of Kathy on the invitation so everyone would recognize her. As I talked, the plan started taking shape. No, even better … I’d get a photo of the entire family, including her son, Zachary, and her husband, Gator. Oh, and I’d want a black and white picture. Yeah. That sounded like a great idea and Tina agreed.

Ten minutes later, I stood on the sidewalk out front, greeting folks as they arrived for service. I heard my name: “Miss Kim! Miss Kim!” I turned to see Zachary running toward me. “I have something for you!” As I leaned down to give him a hug, he thrust a photo in front of my face.

Zachary. Kathy. Gator.
Great picture.
In black and white.

Yep. My Beloved was watching me across the room. He was listening. He was aware of the rough week I’d had. He was aware of my aching back. He was aware of the physical exhaustion I felt. Even though He had not specifically answered my pleas to deliver me from my situation, He did something better.

He winked at me.

He whispered to my heart: “I am listening to you. I do pay attention to the details.”

Across the distance, He caught my eye and in an instant reminded me Who He Is, and Who’s I am.

It’s been a few days since that happened. And I’m still warm and fuzzy.

God is so cool.

Who left the frig door open?

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 16:53:00 +0000

Ahhhhhhhhh……….

My internal nuclear reactor is stifled at last. Got up this morning, turned off the a/c (which is usually running at 65) and opened the windows.

I’m not sweating for the first time in forever!

What a beautiful morning! Temperature in the low 50’s, and it’s noon and there’s still a twinge of cool in the air!

Cooler weather makes me feel much more domesticated. One big project already accomplished, several more loads of laundry to do, and about 3 tons of dustbunnies await my attention. Oh, and a Gator game in mid-afternoon. Let's keep our priorities in order! Guess the dustbunnies will just have to make themselves at home. Like they haven’t already…..

Here in Florida, we don’t do fall like normal folk. The leaves don’t turn pretty shades of orange and yellow and eventually fall to the ground. One freeze late in the year and all the leaves let go overnight. (Except the oak trees. They thoughtfully molt for an entire six months so we won’t get bored.) A couple of mornings with sweet 45-58 degree weather that may or may not last the entire day. Usually not. Then someone stokes up the furnace and the temp is reset to broil.

When winter finally arrives, it just shows up in the middle of the night and freezes your water hose without warning. You drive to Walmart and buy another one. It doesn’t freeze again for weeks, and maybe you are smart enough to pay attention to the forecast this time. Or at least turn the water on trickle.

When it’s cold here, it’s COLD. Frigid. Mind-numbing. Sure, it doesn’t last for months like it does in North Dakota, but it’s the quality, not the quantity that counts.

Last year was a particularly long winter for us. Didn’t put up the jackets until April, for heaven’s sake! That’s three months late.
No, I don’t look forward to that again. But I am hoping that this little cool snap lasts more than a day or two. In Florida, we get about six perfect days a year. Some years they are actually evenly divided between fall and spring.

For ladies like me with the in-house nuclear reactor, we just sweat all the time. Except those six perfect days. We sweat in the warm weather because no one else wants the a/c set at 65. In the winter, I have to stand at the thermostat with a loaded gun to keep the temp set at something less than 77. Why do thermostats go all the way up to 90? Who wants to cook in their own skin? I keep telling the cold people that live in my house, if they are cold, they just need to put on more clothes. One day – the girls at least – will understand from whence I speak. And I will laugh maniacally.

Anyhoo, I am so enjoying this beautiful weather today. Maybe I’ll just skip the laundry and go sit on the porch and drink in the beauty for a while. While it lasts...

A Slow Burn

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 00:32:00 +0000

The Author.

I had the pleasure of hearing Mary DeMuth speak at She Speaks 2009, a Proverbs 31 Ministries conference, in August, 2009. Mary was delightfully witty, honest and forthright as she shared with a bunch of neophyte writers how to go about getting published. While the journey to publication is not an easy one, but rather a quite daunting endeavor – writing the book seems far easier by comparison – I appreciated her candor and encouragement.

As one of those neophyte writers, I've followed Mary's blog for a couple of years now. I read Daisy Chain, predecessor to A Slow Burn just a few weeks ago. When she asked for volunteers to preview this book prior to the October 1st release date, my fingers tripped over each other to reply "me, me, yes, me! I'll read it!"

The Book.

A Slow Burn

Hurting people hurt people. Emory Chance is a hurting, grieving woman. As the pages of her past are turned, we come to understand why this fragile young woman built a wall of granite around her heart, forbidding anyone to come near. Emotional pain and neglect is all she’s known in her life. It is the only standard she’s familiar with - and is all she’s capable of giving out.

But the murder of her young daughter has ripped a gaping hole in her harsh facade and she fears her vulnerability might be exposed for all of tiny Defiance, Texas to see.

Confronted with an uncommon love from an unlikely source, Emory is both compelled and repelled. To give in means giving up her bitterness and opening up her heart. Giving in would open the door to a frightening magnificence beyond her wildest dreams.

Emory’s sordid past can be redeemed. But at what cost?

A Slow Burn is Mary DeMuth’s second in a trilogy set in 1977 in sleepy Defiance, Texas. Part one is titled Daisy Chain, and is a must-read if the reader is at all interested in the full effect of this intricate story line.

The character development in this series is exquisite. Each character is carefully sketched on a blank canvas. As the story unfolds, details of personality and background are revealed, adding depth and richness to the portraiture, ultimately becoming someone you know.

DeMuth writes with authority, making it apparent that her characters and situations are very near and real to her heart. Indeed, people very much like Daisy, Emory, Jed and Hixon must be in her circle of influence.

Much to my dismay, I discovered shards of my own life entwined in these pages. The first two books in this trilogy have given me pause, stirring in me a compulsion to examine my own life seeking evidence of intentional kindness, grace and mercy extended. I anxiously await the third and final chapter.

This is a tough book to read. Not one of those cute, warm, fuzzy reads where everyone lives happily ever after and you shut the book and fall sleep with a smile on your face. This is a real, raw look at the underbelly of hidden sin. But while exposing the sin, the author points to the message of hope and redemption freely available to whosoever will through Christ. This story is an exceptional visual of just how deep, wide, high and long is God’s mercy and grace, demonstrating that no one is ever outside of His reach.

This is not just good fiction. This is hauntingly familiar, life changing storytelling.

Keep the tissue box handy.

The Tour.

Check out Mary's website.

Visit others on this blog tour for the debut of A Slow Burn by Mary DeMuth.

Admissions of a Suburban Philosopher

All are welcome here

A Musing Mom Speaks

A Sandy Path Book Reviews

A Writer’s Journey

Adventures of the Duncan Six

AP Free Writing 101

Arkansas Dreams

Aspire2 Blog

Awesome God…Ordinary Girl

Be Your Best Mom

Beams of Light Ministries

Bell Whistle Moon

Blog Tour Spot

Bluebonnet in the Snow

Book Nook Club

Caregiving and Beyond

Carla’s Writing Cafe

Carly Bird’s Home

Carma’s Window

Cheaper by the Half Dozen

Cindy’s Stamping and Reviews

CommuniKate

Critty Joy

Declaring His Marvelous Work

Drive Home Productions

Edgewise

Elizabeth Bussey

Faith…Creativity…Life

Fiction for the Restless Reader

Fictionary

Five Bazillion and One

Fresh Brewed Writer

Gatorskunz and Mudcats

Heading Home

His Reading List

i don’t believe in grammar

Literary Fangirl Book Reviews

Passionate for the Glory of God

Pollywog Creek

Ranunculus Turtle

Real Hurts, Real Hope

The Harrison Kaleidoscope

The Heart of Writing

The Stubborn Servant

The View from Here

This That and The Other

Where Romance Meets Therapy

Writing to the heart of the matter

Let it shine

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 01:57:00 +0000

I sat quietly in the gathering dark on the deck of the cabin we rented for vacation. My favorite time of the day in the Smoky Mountains had arrived.

Willing my eyes to be still and wait, trying not to blink. In a few seconds, it began. The natural fireworks display.

One pinprick of light here … then gone. There … then gone. Then there were three. Then seven … ten … thirteen….

Like sparks rising out of a flame, the little fireflies appear for a second. Just as the eye moves to the spot where the light appeared, the fire winks out - only to appear again a few feet away.

As the darkness wraps it’s cool, whispy arms around me, the little bugs put on a grand lighting display, accompanied by a symphony of crickets and frogs, joined by the occasional owl.

I remember my brother and I catching a firefly when we were kids visiting our grandma in Louisiana. Growing up in Orlando where there were no lightning bugs, we were fascinated with the little creatures whose backsides lit up like tiny flashlights as they flew around after dark. We caught one of the bugs and put it in a jar that Grandma gave us so that we could keep it. We thought that it would make a great night light. But, alas, the little bug died before the next morning.

I sat reminiscing about the fireflies of my childhood and smiled with delight at the private fireworks display that my Creator prepared just for me.

Out of nowhere, the song rambled through my mind…

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Hide it under a bushel –No! I’m gonna let it shine
Hide it under a bushel –No! I’m gonna let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine

Let is shine till Jesus comes, I’m gonna let it shine
Let it shine till Jesus comes, I’m gonna let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine

I wonder if the songwriter was watching fireflies….

Stinging Nettles

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 01:45:00 +0000

Working on trimming tree limbs along the driveway this morning, I squealed as I took a step forward to balance my stance. I knew it was there. But I just forgot it was that close.

The stinging nettle got me again.

The signs are all there. The pretty, petite white flowers on top of the ugly, stalks of sharks-teeth rows of stinging hairs. The plant practically screams danger, beware, keep your distance! But being engrossed in the task at hand, I let down my guard, resulting in the perforation of the tender skin on my ankle.

The stinging nettles are all over our property. I know they are there. Been stung many times before. But apparently knowing they are there isn’t enough to protect me.

Sin is like that. There are signs all over the place, reminding us of the danger. The Holy Spirit doesn’t just let us walk into danger without doing everything He can to warn us. We just tune Him out and walk headlong into the thicket of brambles, and then wonder why we got hurt.

Flee the very appearance of evil.

We become accustomed to the proximity of sin in our day-to-day activities. Watching television and surfing the internet, we can run across something that we know is wrong. Do we switch the channel or close the browser fast enough? Someone offends us and the offense either festers inside us or ... we could forgive and dismiss. It’s easy to drive faster than the speed limit – because we all know about the 10% above-the-speed-limit fudge factor and, besides, everyone does it. When a cashier gives back too much change, are we quick to point out the error? Or calmly walk away while pushing down the guilt that wells up inside? That gossiping co-worker attempts to draw us into a conversation that we know will go nowhere but downhill. How quickly do we extricate ourselves?

I Thessalonians 5:22 (Amp) says “Abstain from evil [shrink from it and keep aloof from it] in whatever form or whatever kind it may be.”

The enemy dresses up sin. Puts pretty flowers all over it to entice and beguile us. The alarms are going off inside our heads all day long. Have we gotten so accustomed to them that we let our guard down? Let us not forget: we are at war here. Let’s keep our spiritual eyes open and give wide berth to the traps laid in wait for us.

Our watchword is vigilance. We must stay on our toes every second.

All it takes is a momentary lapse to brush up next to the nettle.

A Little Like Noah

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 01:04:00 +0000

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

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 01:19:00 +0000

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

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 01:43:00 +0000

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

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 00:12:00 +0000

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

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 01:25:00 +0000

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.

Terminal

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 19:55:00 +0000

The title of this book by Dr. Kevin Leman caught my eye recently: Adolescence Isn’t Terminal. Isn’t terminal for whom? The child or the parent?

This is probably a book that I needed to read about ten years ago before I married Craig and became step-mom to his three adolescent children, because there were several instances when I was certain that someone was about to meet their Maker.

While adolescence may not be terminal, birth is.

I drive by a billboard every morning that says :
“Welcome to Florida.
Mortality rate = 100%
Are you ready?”

When someone dear to us dies, we grieve. So often the question echoes through the air: “why did God take him/her at such an early age?” Until heaven, we may never know.

Yesterday, Craig was watching – for the umpteenth time – the Star Wars movie in which Anikin becomes Darth Vadar. In a conversation with Yoda, Anikin angrily described a prophetic dream in which his wife died. Yoda made a very profound spiritual statement … for a secular movie. “Death is a part of life. We should celebrate those who become one with The Force.” (emphasis and capitalization mine)

The Christian artist Carmen recorded a piece called The Third Heaven. In this story, Carmen is speaking in the first person as he dies in an emergency room and makes his ascent into heaven. He is describing the feelings, the sights and sounds. When he arrives at the Throne of God, the Father tells him that his loved ones are praying for his return to earth because they grieve for and miss him. Because of their fervent prayers, if he so desires, God will return him to earth. Carmen tells The Lord, “No, Lord! I do not want to go back there!” He goes on to say that, if they could just see this place, they would never ask him to return to earth.

A couple of years ago, in the space of less than a week, two people who were very dear to me died. One was an 18 year old young man. A soldier for Christ in his generation. An encourager, a friendly shoulder for every young person, a young man that parents trusted to be a positive, godly influence on their kids. The other was my 92 year old grandmother. A godly woman who strongly influenced me as a child, raised my mother and her seven siblings (two of whom died as infants), farmed to support her household, and never missed a church service until she was admitted to a nursing home. Both of these funerals were held on the same day. We raced to Orlando for Grandmother’s funeral in the late morning, then sped back to Lake City for Darryl’s service in the afternoon. Even though there were many tears shed at both services, there was a peaceful joy in those tears because we know where both souls rest for eternity.

Why did Darryl die at the age of 18 while Grandmother lived into her 90’s? The only thing we know is that God alone knows the number of our days. That number is planned long before the earth was formed.

There is a purpose in every death. Someone will be impacted by the demise of that person, and has the choice to react positively or negatively. If the deceased was a Believer, then we can celebrate his graduation from this school of flesh. We may grieve that we cannot fellowship with him longer on this earth, but we must be glad that he has passed from death unto life. If he could say one thing to us on this earth, he would say “Do NOT weep for me! I have arrived. There is no sorrow. I wish you were here.” However, if the deceased was not a follower of Christ, then his death serves as grim reminder that the fields are white and ready for harvest. We must remain vigilant in our walk with Christ, that the lost see Christ’s love through us.

The sobering realization here is: we really do not know when our time here is finished. We must live like each day will be our last.

Psalm 90:12
So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

My Best Friend

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 12:02:00 +0000

Today marks seven years since I said “I do” to the love of my life, Craig.

In the summer of 2000, I met Craig – hold onto your hats! – on the internet. We exchanged a few emails and a couple of phone calls in the first week. Late one night, we spent nearly four hours on the phone, just talking about our lives. Without ever having laid eyes on him, I fell in love with his heart and his gentle spirit.

After years of running from God, without realizing it, I had turned from the broad road I was walking, and had taken the first step down the path that led back to Him.

I had spent the first twenty years of my adult life in a marriage that was doomed before the wedding day. A rebellious, know-it-all young woman, I thought I had it all under control. And tried to maintain that tenuous appearance for the next two decades. When I jumped out of the frying pan, I landed in the fire. Ironically, that’s exactly what it felt like … like I was living on the fringes of hell.

After many bad choices, many embarrassing situations, and too many wasted and forgotten moments, I heard what I now know was the Holy Spirit directing me to do something totally against my nature. Taking that course of action led me directly to Craig.

Once the Lord had the two of us together, He worked on both of us at the same time. We didn’t really have a chance. It was all over. We just didn’t know it yet. We married in 2002, but it was the fall of 2003 before we committed the rest of our lives to the Lord.

He is the godly man that I love to come home to every night. His is the ear that hears my heart, his is the hand that dries my tears. He is the first person I call when something wonderful or something awful happens or when I’ve seen a really neat bumper sticker. From the divine to the mundane, he hears, sees and knows it all. He knows my heart’s desires and the little things that drive me to the brink. His ears have the unique ability to filter out the whining, the harshness, the unlovely that comes from my mouth. I’ve often thought that he loves me like Jesus does … unconditionally.

He’s the one I want to wake up next to every morning for the rest of my life. I do not want to spend a single day on the face of this earth without him. Apart from my eternal salvation, he is the greatest gift God has given me.

In a world where many marriages are nothing more than a reason to throw an expensive party, I feel like the most blessed woman on the planet to have such a man as my husband. Grateful doesn’t even begin to describe it.

A Tribute to my Father

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 20:02:00 +0000

In a leadership class that I took under Pastor Mark a few years ago, we were given a homework assignment to write an essay. The topic was to about a person that we admired for demonstrating true leadership.

What you are about to read is that essay. I can think of no greater tribute to my Father than sharing this story from my heart on this Father's Day.

The Model of Leadership

For the past 50 years, I have had the privilege of knowing and learning from a truly great leader. He may not be known far and wide by millions of people, but he is a significant impact within his circle of influence. My father has always modeled responsible leadership in our home, in his workplace, and in the church where I grew up and where my parents are still active to this day.

I personally know no one else who has walked so consistently with Christ during my lifetime. He has been a man of integrity, honor, and discipline as long as I can remember. He has always given his all in everything he has been involved in.

During his 40+ year career at Modern Welding Company, he rose from janitor to Plant Superintendent. He was such an integral asset to the business that the company pleaded to hire him post-retirement on a contractual basis at an exorbitant rate of pay. My father might not be the most greatest mind to ever live, but it seems that he possesses a little thing called work ethic that is very rare and highly sought after. Daddy has always accepted any responsibility he was given and taken it very seriously. Looking back, I see now that he always did his job “as unto the Lord”. He gives nothing less than his very best. I am glad that I chose to adopt his work ethic as my own.

He is the very model of consistent Christianity in my life. My dad never changes. Not his values, not his morals, not his faith. He is respected, though sometimes not liked, because of his high standards. But even those that might not like him know that he can be depended on when others cannot. He is humble and always puts others ahead of his own personal desires and needs.

He loves to laugh and have a good time. As a kid, when we went to Disney World, my dad would embarrass my brother and me by skipping --- yes, I said skipping --- down Main Street after the parade. He always has a silly joke to break up a tense moment and has the ability to make a total stranger feel like they are conversing with an old friend. My dad has a distinctive, boisterous laugh; and he laughs often because he is unable to contain the joyful spirit within him.

He loves God’s Word. Every evening he read his Bible and meditates on the Word. When I was a kid, every Saturday afternoon he would set up all of his reference books and materials at the dining room table and finalize preparation for the Sunday School lesson that he would teach the next day. He studied and prayed most of the afternoon, then again after dinner and well into the night. He still does this to this very day.

He loves to sing to the Lord. He has always enjoyed leading the music service, directing the choir, singing with our family, or solo. He used to have my mother or me play the piano at home, just so he could sing along. Even when he was piddling around the house, he was singing or whistling a hymn of praise.

The most poignant memories I have of growing up are when my father cried. As a child, I didn’t understand. As a teenager, I was embarrassed that my father would show such “weakness”. As a young lady, I began to understand that his tears were heart-tears --- of either joy, conviction, or gratitude -- because of his wonder, awe and love for the Lord Who had reached down and saved his wretched soul.

I have always known what my dad stands for. Before asking, I knew what his answer would be because I knew that his standards didn’t waver. I thought he was excessively strict when I was a teenager. Now I know better. He knew that allowing me to push through the boundaries he had set was not in my best interest. Now I fully appreciate all that he endured while raising my brother and me. And more than appreciative, I am truly grateful to him.

He models service to the Kingdom of Christ. As music director and deacon for as long as I can remember, he is the one who the congregation always looks to for leadership. As pastors came and went, as they seem to do in a denominational church, my father was the one that the congregation looked to as they began a search for a new pastor. He has been with the same congregation through church splits, financial crises, building programs that spanned multiple pastorates, even nearly losing the new church facility due to lack of tithes and offerings to pay the mortgage. He has leaned on the Lord during all these circumstances. He has always believed that it is the Lord’s Church and He will cover and protect it. Even though he never wanted the responsibility or the infamy that accompanies his title-less position, he has always stepped up the plate to do what no one else would do. He has been the de facto administrator through at least nine pastorates in the past 50 years. He does it all … all the grunt work, all the untidy, tedious stuff, the business of carrying on a local church ministry between and under pastors. He is the one person that has always been there. He has never left the church and come back. He has never shrugged off responsibility. He has never said that he would not do something that needed to be done. My mother worries that he has become the congregation’s doormat. But I know that he’s doing it for The One Who is Worthy of his sacrifice and the Bride of Christ … not for the accolades of the congregation.

I remember a particularly dark time in my father’s life a few years ago when his mother died. She had been in a nursing home for years in Louisiana. Twice every year, my parents made the trek to visit Grandma. Since Grandma was confined to a wheelchair, my dad built a wheelchair ramp at the back of one of my aunt’s home so that he could retrieve Grandma from the nursing home and visit with her at “home” rather than in the impersonal nursing home. Family gatherings resumed at Aunt Helen’s when my dad visited, because he’d go get Grandma from the nursing home on a three-day pass. Each morning, he took her out for a walk. One morning, however, as he guided the wheelchair down the ramp, he slipped and fell. The wheelchair careened out of control and Grandma ended up on the ground with a broken neck. After surgery and a hospital stay of a few weeks, it didn’t take long for pneumonia to claim her life. I’ll never forget the profound grief in my dad’s voice the day he called to say that she had died. One of his sisters did not even want him to come to the funeral. She was very hateful and spiteful, laying the blame of Grandma’s death at Daddy’s feet. But he did not respond to her. He suffered intense grief and guilt in silence. At the funeral, a family that should have grieved together and comforted each other was divided and angry. I was outraged that my Aunt would heap blame and guilt on my father for this tragic accident. After all, he was doing for his mother what his siblings would not do … give her a glimpse of something outside the walls of that nursing home, sharing times with her at home again in her waning years. I was so angry that I grew to hate my aunt. Every time we discussed this, my dad would tell me that I must forgive her and pray for her, because she didn’t mean it. He had forgiven her immediately. I was not walking with the Lord at that time (obviously), and I could not for the life of me understand where he was coming from. His ability to forgive his accuser completely in the face of his innocence was so Christ-like … and I wouldn’t see it for my own anger. Now, I see that he was demonstrating Christ’s love and forgiveness on the cross – “forgive them, Father, they don’t know what they are doing.” My dad has always forgiven like that. This extreme demonstration of his unconditional love and forgiveness is forever seared into my memory and my heart.

No matter how far I’ve strayed from the Lord, no matter how I’ve embarrassed and grieved my dad by willfully living in the pit of sin during an awful period in my life, he has always love me and prayed for me. He has always been ready and willing to talk to me, to guide me, admonishing me with a gentle spirit to do what is right.

The servanthood, the love and laughter, the commitment, the songs of worship, the love of The Word, the unerring Godly standards, the unselfish forgiveness, the discipline, the unwavering faith in God, the consistency with which he walks through this life with Christ. Those attributes are the mark of a spiritual giant – a true leader. I want to be like Leon Jesse Jones when I grow up.

Upgrade

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 14:47:00 +0000

While downloading Internet Explorer 8 the other day on my computer, I was reviewing the touted enhancements, bug fixes, enhanced security and scads of new features in this new-and-improved version.

As I explored the new features, I kept thinking – “It’s about time they added that feature!” Visual searches, instant answers, smart-screen filter, view sites with ease, get things done faster, stay more secure, more functions, more security features, faster, easier, more, more, more …..

It all sounded so magnificent! Now I will certainly be able to get much more work done, and more efficiently at that!

Hmmmmm. Didn’t that very same thought run through my head with the release of Internet Explorer version 7 ….. and version 6….. and...?

That marketing crew at Microsoft sure does earn its keep. They’ve got us trained to start salivating at the very mention of an upgrade.

Isn’t it like that with everything we buy? It’s great when we first take it home from the store. We thought we wouldn’t be able to live without it. But within months - sometimes just days - it’s just not enough. If only it could do this. If only it had this feature. If only it was faster, less complicated. If only… Gotta get a better version.

Those guys at Microsoft are always looking to broaden the appeal of their products and have to work hard to keep releasing updates in order to keep us happy and continuing to buy and use their products. Better ways to accomplish tasks quicker and easier. Glitz and glamour. Bells and whistles. Features that you didn’t even know you needed are now things you can’t seem to live without. After a few years, the product has changed so much that the original is buried in the dust of progress.

Thank God He doesn’t have to update His Word to keep up with our everchanging circumstances. Rather than starting with a basic concept, then adding new features, building the product up, God’s Word is designed as complete and unchanging from the very beginning of time.

When we first explore, read and study the Bible, we are just scraping the surface. Too often, many Believers stop and camp right there, never getting beyond the top layer. They get just enough Bible to find salvation and redemption, the ten commandments, and the beatitudes. There is certainly nothing wrong with any of these things. But there is so much more waiting for the heart that wants more of Him.

It’s like an archeological dig. All of it is there already, we just have to dig to find out more. We don’t have to wait for the angels in programming to work the bugs out before the next level is released. It’s already there, waiting for us to desire the knowledge so much that we seek it out.

Archeological digs take months, sometimes years, to complete. There are weeks of painstaking, seemingly monotonous removal of earth – one teaspoon at a time – in order to uncover a small portion of the artifact. Among the diggers, there is exuberant celebration at these tiny-to-the-rest-of-the-world victories. What an unparalleled sense of wonder, awe and splendor they must experience when the dig is complete, the ancient artifact is recovered intact, cleaned up and ready to put on display.

We have the possibility for this type of mind-blowing, life-changing experience in our very laps.

Dig a little deeper. Layer upon layer. From glory to glory.

Instead of waiting impatiently for the next update to be released, it’s up to me to dig deeper, to explore with an open heart and the eyes of my soul. To get more, it’s up to me to pursue Him through His Word with all my might.

We could explore the rich depths of His Word for eternity and still never be able to grasp or understand it all, or use it up. His message of love and truth is infinite, will never need enhancements, bug-fixes, upgrades or updates. We will never stop discovering new information, new revelations, new nuggets, new encouragements, new treasures, new lifelines. We continue to find new features without downloading an upgrade or paying for the newest release. The deeper we delve into the Word and the very heart of God, the more wonder we experience and glory we uncover.

The Word of God: Deep enough for a scholar to explore for an eternity without exhausting the contents, yet simple enough for a child to grasp and embrace for a lifetime.

Hebrews 13:8
Jesus Christ (The Word, according to John 1:1) is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Psalm 1:2
But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

2 Timothy 2:15
Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.

Acts 17:11
These were more noble than those in Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the scriptures daily, whether those things were so.

The Orchid Parallel

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Sat, 30 May 2009 22:41:00 +0000

For thirty years, I’ve had an obsession with growing orchids. I really hate to think about all the money I’ve wasted buying plants, potting materials, fertilizers, books, watering systems….
Could never get the environment just right. Too much light, not enough light, too cold, too dry, too wet. My mistakes were experiments in excess. With well-intentioned kindness and overbearing attention, I’ve sent many orchids to their death over the years. (If you grow orchids, you are probably questioning my intelligence at this point.)

My husband is the most amazingly patient, accommodating and enduring man on the face of this earth - for proof, look who he married! A couple of years ago, he relocated an old wooden swing set frame from the backyard to a shady home under the oak trees outside the kitchen door. We installed an automatic drip system and hung all my orchids there.

Orchids do not tolerate temperatures under 50 degrees, so every cold spell brings a flurry of activity. Remove everything from the breakfast table and bring in the orchids for the night … or the week. Depending on the projected forecast, they could stay on the table for several days or weeks. In and out. In and out. Weary of the rerun. But my history with these exotic plants reminded me of the ramifications of leaving them outside for even one cold night.

Cold and cool weather stayed on with us through early April this year. I was so ready to put the orchids on their hangers under the oak tree and leave them there until October. Being able to leave them out for several days at a time during February and March gave them a false sense of springtime. Blossom spikes began appearing with the promise of a wondrous spring display. Then the weather would turn cooler again and I’d have to bring them back inside. I was just heartsick that the budding flower spikes were so early – thinking they’d never survive this back and forth change of environment.

After the last cold snap in early April finally subsided, I put them back on their hangers under the oak tree. Within two weeks there were healthy flower spikes on five of the seven plants of flowering age. By mid-May, the blossoms started opening. At the time of this picture, one plant had 27 open blooms!

After thirty years of experimentation, I may have finally gotten it right.

I think of my spiritual growth. I think of all the times I nearly crashed and burned while experimenting with the excesses of the world. Never did get into the right environment. Never the right mix of spiritual food, prayer, and worship. My life was totally out of balance, in full tilt and headed for destruction. But the promise of God’s plan remained all along. I knew I was made for more, but just didn’t properly position myself to blossom in His garden. My roots were not strong enough to sustain me through the rough times. I neglected to come in from the cold of the world on more occasions than I care to count. That harsh environment nearly killed me. But the loving Hand of my heavenly Gardener sheltered me, never letting me die, but allowing me to be dormant for long periods of time.

Then I came to a point in my life where God showed me a crossroad. Down one road was certain death. The other road required a transformation that – up until that point - I had been unwilling to undergo. It required sacrifice and obedience. It required denial of the flesh. It required environmental control. Proper water, light and nutrition. Balance.

Funny how my life has kind of paralleled my experience with orchids.

Or maybe it’s not so funny.

There is no coincidence with God. He created all things, so it’s no surprise that He uses all of His creation to demonstrate to us His truths and remind us of His longsuffering patience and compassion for His children.

Benefits

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Mon, 18 May 2009 10:44:00 +0000

As a human resources administrator, I am required to maintain the employee handbook, ensuring it complies with and mirrors current employment and labor laws. When a new employee starts work, one of the first items they receive is a copy of this manual. It sets forth the policies and procedures for office and personnel, conduct, ethics, forms and formats, disciplinary issues and … the benefits. No doubt this is the most popular section of this otherwise dry missive. While the rest of the information is important, it’s rather tedious reading and actually doubles as a great aid in relieving insomnia.

But when it comes time for vacation, paid sick time or insurance coverage, this is the section employees run to and study intimately.

Indeed, in an interview there are usually three things at the top of the prospective employee’s mind: selling their unique skill set and experience to the interviewer, pay, and benefits. The old what’s-in- it-for-me? Two of the three items are self-centered. It’s more about what I get if I work for you than what you get by hiring me. To be fair though, this makes sense because most people work because they need a paycheck - not because they are bored.

It is said that the Bible is the Believer’s manual for living: Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth. In it, you will find all the instructions for living right and the consequences for not doing so. There are procedural instructions for conducting ministry, personal finances, raising children, marrying and staying married. There are chapters that explain how to avoid potentially fatal errors, how to rectify mistakes, how to conduct one’s self in all circumstances, and what kind of attitude is appropriate. It is the Word of Life. It is the Believer’s Handbook.

One of my favorite sections in the Bible is the benefits chapter.

This is the chapter I run to when I get weary, beat up, talked about, embarrassed, slandered, pressed down and struck down. Walking on the path of faith isn’t always fun. It’s not easy – and very often is difficult, painful and tiring. Much like an employee who has come to a point where she is weary or sick, I run to the benefits chapter to remind myself just what’s in it for me.

He forgives ALL my sins.
He heals ALL my diseases.
He redeems my life from DESTRUCTION.
He crowns me with lovingkindness and tender mercies EVERYDAY.
He fills my mouth with GOOD things and renews my strength so I can soar like the eagle.
He provides JUSTICE to me when I am oppressed. (He’s got my back!)
He is merciful and GRACIOUS.
He is SLOW to anger.
He is abounding in MERCY.
He will NOT stay angry at me.
He does not punish me ACCORDING TO MY SINS.

This is a benefits package that is unmatched anywhere!

Unlike the employee manual at my office, this Handbook never has to be updated to reflect the latest legislation. God’s Word is the same yesterday, today and forever. We can take a great deal of comfort in this knowledge. The rules never change. And neither do the benefits.

Whenever you become weary in well-doing, just open your Believer’s Handbook to Psalm 103 and remind yourself of the out-of-this-world benefit package that is all yours.

Convicting Emails

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 13:14:00 +0000

Got this email this morning. God speaks to me through email a lot. He knows that I have a tendency to be compulsive about checking my email. Sometimes more compulsive about that than intentionally spending time with Him.

I felt a check in my spirit reading this:

Think back to when you met that man/woman that you just knew would be the one. Remember when you realized/admitted to yourself that you loved him/her. Now remember how much you wanted to act like you were in a movie, and yell to everyone in the football stadium "I love (fill in the name)!" You told family and friends how perfect he/she was; he/she was justwhat you were looking for.

Well, I told THE LORD that I love Him today.

And He said to me, "How much do you love me? You haven't told anyone how good I've been to you. You haven't shared how perfect my love is. You haven't spread the good news that I am always there to listen to your problems. You haven't told your family how I helped you pay your bills when you didn't have a high paying job, or how I got you a better one. You haven't shared with anyone how I took away that addiction that would have cost you not only your job, but also that man/woman that was just what you were looking for. So how much do you really love me?"So, I said I would share with my friends and family (for starters) just how wonderful, perfect, understanding, patient, loving, unselfish, considerate and forgiving GOD really is. He has blessed me with a family that loves me and friends that I can confide in. But even more than that, He has saved me from destruction I couldn't even see coming.He gave to me the peace of knowing Him, and He has never broken a promise. Truly, He is the best thing that has ever happened to me.And I stand in my stadium today to tell to you all, "I LOVE THE LORD!"

Telling folks that I love the Lord and how good He is isn't so much the issue for me. But showing Him that He's Number One in my life: consistently getting up early to spend quiet time with Him in the morning, consistently spending time studying His Word, consistently memorizing scripture so that it's branded on my heart. I do all these things, but my problem is consistency. I blame work, age, hormones, and hectic schedules, for my lack of consistency. But the truth is: I must discipline myself. Regardless of how I feel. Regardless of what time of the month it is. Regardless.

When I was dating Craig, I would go with just a few hours sleep so that we could make plans to be together. Thought about him all day, talked on the phone constantly. Nothing could get in my way. It's really easy to see just how those lame excuses stack up when I am driven by fresh, new, exciting love. (Greek: eros; Hebrew: dode; English: desire, passion, erotic)

What would my husband think if I left for work one single morning without kissing him goodbye and telling him I love him?

What would I think about his love for me if he did the same?

Just one single time. My feelings would be hurt.

God gives me new mercies every morning. He is faithful, even when I'm not. I want and earnestly seek that unquenchable fire in my spirit that drives me to consistency in a deep, intimate, consuming, single-minded relationship with Jesus Christ.

Steven Curtis Chapman's words say it best for me:

So capture my heart again
Take me to depths I’ve never been
Into the riches of Your grace and Your mercy
Return me to the cross
And let me be completely lost
In the wonder of the love
That You’ve shown me
Cut through these chains that tie me down
to so many lesser things
Let all my dreams fall to the ground
Until this one remains

You are everything I want
And You are everything I need Lord,
You are all my heart desires
You are everything to me
You are everything I want
You are everything I need
I want You to be my one consuming passion
Everything my heart desires
Lord, I want it all to be for You
I want it all to be for You, Jesus
Be my magnificent obsession

No one ever said faith was fun

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 02:07:00 +0000

We were having dinner with several friends recently. The discussion centered around a particular venture in which several of us are involved. One of the fellows with us is a particularly pragmatic individual who analyzes every nuance of any movement or decision he makes – often to the point of seeming excruciatingly slow. As we discussed our plans, he was busy trying to find holes in our arguments. He refused to be easily convinced of the benefits of this endeavor. We playfully poked fun at him for being overly-analytical and joked that he should just jump out of the boat and walk on the waves. As we laughed together, another fellow looked at the foot dragger and said, “No one ever said faith was fun.”

Coulda heard a pin drop.

I had to think about that rather profound statement. Have I ever walked in faith and been able to say that it was actually fun? Walking in faith is walking into the unknown, the unfamiliar, the uncomfortable.

What about answering God’s call to be a missionary to an uncivilized tribe in the jungles of Africa? Stepping out of the boat in the middle of the sea as the storm churns the water and winds? Telling the king you will not bow down to him – but only to The One True God? What about tithing when there are more bills than money? Witnessing to that arrogant, foul-mouthed, agnostic co-worker? Any of these ventures sound like fun?

If it ain’t just a little bit scary, it probably doesn’t require faith.

God told Abraham to leave his homeland for an unknown land. God instructed Moses to go before Pharoah and demand the release of the Israelites. Joshua was promised the city of Jericho if the Israelites would march around the city walls, shout and blow their trumpets. Gideon went into battle against hundreds of thousands of Midianites with only three hundred men – and with trumpets, torches, and empty jars as their only weapons.

Each one of these men was probably labeled as crazy for their actions. And the scripture says nothing about them running ahead with the plan, all the while laughing, whooping it up and having a grand old time.

When I think of fun, none of these instances come to mind. Fun things are light-hearted, carefree activities. Fun takes no courage, commitment, or discipline. But acts of faith require all of these characteristics. Acts of faith are what books are written about – one particular Book comes to mind. Acts of faith warm our hearts and encourage us in our journey with Christ. Faith results in joy and peace.

Fun is momentary. Joy is eternal.

Look at Hebrews 12:2: Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

His trip to Golgotha wasn’t fun. But He completed our faith for all eternity by allowing Himself to be crucified. For us. Why? Because our release from the clutches of Satan was the JOY that He had His eyes fixed upon. His JOY is eternal and He shares it with us.

You know what? I’ll bet that spending eternity in heaven with The Father, Son and Holy Spirit will be a little bit fun. What do you think?

The Protective Hand of God

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 17:09:00 +0000

I was going through my old journals and found this entry from July, 2007. As I relived the event in my mind while I read, the smile just stretched across my face - from ear to ear. Enjoy!

July 12, 2007

Let me just tell you how awesome God is!

You know how we get up and go about our business everyday. We pray for guidance and protection as a habit everyday. But we don’t really have any concept of exactly what God shields us from on a daily basis. Today, He reminded me of just how much He loves me and how much junk He protects me from.

Driving to work southbound on I-75. Suddenly I felt something strike the back of my car and instinctively put my foot on the brake. A violent vibration took over and I could not control the wheel. I was holding on for dear life, with my foot on the brake, saying over and over … “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”. The car veered to the left and into the grassy median, I wrestled the steering wheel back toward the road. Once back on the pavement, the car veered toward the other side of the road. I felt the G-force pushing the car to my left, and felt that the car would flip at any second. All the while, I’m crying out, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”. Suddenly the car came to a stop cross-ways in the middle of three lanes of the interstate. I drew in a breath and said “Thank you Jesus.” I looked to my right and saw two pickup trucks sitting inches from my vehicle. The female driver of one of the trucks was staring at me with eyes wide and mouth gaping. I started my vehicle again, and it thumped to the right shoulder of the road.

I got out of the car with my hands in the air, praising God, thanking Jesus. One of the occupants in one of the pickup trucks got out and asked me if I was ok, to which I responded, “Yes! Yes! I am just fine!” He said “that was amazing! The way you controlled that vehicle … that was amazing!” I smiled and said “No sir, I had nothing to do with that. That was all God! God controlled it; He had hold of the wheel.” After assuring him that I was calling my husband to help me with the tire and that I was indeed ok, he left.

I briefly assessed the damage to the rear of the vehicle, got back in the car and called Craig to come help me change the tire. Then I sat to wait. I picked up my Bible and turned to the Psalms. My eyes fell on Psalm 139:5-6. “You hem me in – behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; too lofty for me to attain.” Never before have I so powerfully felt the presence of the Lord. As I sat and went over every detail of the past few minutes in my mind, I wondered, “what was I doing at the moment that the tire began to separate? I wasn’t drinking my coffee, because both hands were on the wheel.” Then I remembered. I was praying. And how easy it was to just start calling out His Name when I realized I was in trouble, because I was already talking to Him.

My husband was unable to change the tire, so we called a wrecker service (I had managed to lose the thingymabob that drops the spare tire from under the vehicle). The wrecker driver went to retrieve my spare tire and told me it was flat (can you see a pattern here?). So we had to have the car towed back to Lake City to get two new tires. As the wrecker driver pulled the car up on his flatbed, he called me over to look at the left front tire … there was metal showing on the inside of the tire! Another reason to praise God! He allowed the rear tire to blow rather than the front tire. We all know what happens when a front tire blows on an SUV at a high rate of speed!

Talking to Craig on the way back to the shop, I told him that I ask God every morning during my drive/prayer time to keep my vehicle safe and functioning properly, to keep the tires intact and firmly on the pavement, and to get me to work on time and safely. But this morning, I hadn’t gotten to that part of my prayer yet. It kinda tickled me as I imagined God chuckling … “Well, you didn’t ask that of me this morning…”

Who's the teacher, who's the student?

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 01:44:00 +0000

Today has been a particularly magnificent day. The weather was just gorgeous. We did a lot of yard work this afternoon and thoroughly enjoyed the time outdoors. There are several highlights that will make this a memorable day, but one particular lesson will stick with me forever.

Service this morning was just awesome. Then Pastor J Mark preached … I mean PREACHED … a really strong message on the “power of the Resurrection.” There were at least two saved and a couple of dozen responded to the alter call. You leave a service like that flying pretty high.

On the way to the parking lot, Craig told me that a friend of our daughter who had come to service with us today was one of the two that were saved. After we dropped the young lady at her house, Chelsey announced that she wanted to get some money so she could buy her newly-saved friend a Bible for a birthday present. Today just happens to be that young lady’s birthday.

After lunch, I handed Chelsey an envelope that arrived in the mail for her from her grandparents – a belated birthday card with money inside. As soon as she opened and removed the money, she declared, “we have to go get my friend a Bible today – it’s her birthday!” So we took a trip to the store and looked through the selections on the shelf. I had a particular translation in mind for readability and had a Bible picked out quickly, and at a price that would leave Chelsey some change from her birthday money.

But she wasn’t satisfied.

She showed her choice to me and - as I live and breathe - my jaw nearly dropped at her words. “Mom, it’s got to be ENGAGING! [I had to stop and look at her and make sure this was my 16 year old actually using that word. Thanks, Pastor Mark!] That’s a nice Bible, but THIS one is good for teenagers. It’s got these little things to read [she was pointing to the sidebars] and all this other interesting stuff [pointing to the study notes] that will HELP her and keep her ENGAGED.”

Well, shut my mouth. [I did.] I noted that the price of the Bible she chose was exactly the amount she got for her birthday. She was a little disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to afford a devotional book to go with the Bible, but I told her I’d cover it. So we go to the rack with the devotional books and, once again, she picked the right one. [I’m starting to feel a little useless here....]

Chelsey has always been the kid that uses her birthday and Christmas money to buy something for someone else. The other kids spent their money on their own desires so fast that you’d wonder if the cash ever even made it to their pockets for a brief moment.

Now, the thing about all this that really stumps me is: This isn’t normal. Humans aren’t wired that way. After the fall in the garden of Eden, humans became infested with a sin nature, and selfishness ruled all future generations – even from birth. As Pastor J Mark says, “if you don’t believe that, watch your little darlin’ playing with a toy. Then see how he reacts when another little darlin’ wants to play with the same toy.” Yes ma’am, it’s ingrained in our psyche.

But how come there are people like Chelsey? People who’s natural bent is to be generous with all they have, to always be the peacemaker, to always defend the accused, to always try to find even one good thing about someone who has wronged them. I don’t know about you, but that’s not my natural bent. I have to fight selfishness on a regular basis. I stand in awe of those to whom generosity and self-sacrifice comes as easily as breathing. They are the true heroes of this age. God must have spent a little extra time on these precious souls - they are the ones that give me pause to consider my own motivations.

In a few years, I will most likely be corresponding with Chelsey via the internet (or whatever new technology we have then) as she labors as a missionary at an orphanage in the Philippines or Honduras or wherever God calls her.

As a mother, there are so many lessons that I try to teach my daughter, hoping that someday she will remember and apply the truths she was taught in her youth.

The table has turned. Today, she taught me.

Thick

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 22:56:00 +0000

The past couple of weeks have been horrendous. In addition to two very large projects that will consume the bulk of my time for the next 60 day period, a couple of emergency situations have arisen at work which, if not corrected immediately, will have severe long-term ramifications on the company. As the firm administrator, I jokingly describe my job as being the resident fire chief. It's no longer a joke. I feel like I’ve drug the fire hose around with me for days.

I’ve left work with a crispy-fried brain every afternoon, driven home in a zombie-like state, eaten whatever was set before me (by my awesome, wonderful husband!), and fallen into bed in a state of utter exhaustion. Get up the next morning at 5:30am, and jumped on the hamster wheel again for another go at it. And again. And again.

During our prayer time at worship team practice on Friday night, our worship pastor, who was just coming off two weeks of vocal rest after losing her voice to laryngitis, reminded us that her vocal problems started at the beginning of our church’s corporate 40-day fast. As she talked about the enemy’s attacks since the beginning of the fast, something clicked in my head.

Yeah, I can be pretty thick sometimes.

During this period of fasting and praying, there are a couple of personal issues that I've really wanted to seek the Lord for resolution and breakthrough. All that extra time I had wanted to set aside for quiet time with the Lord had been gobbled up with the unforeseen issues at work, exhausting me physically and mentally, distracting me from my very good intentions.

Funny how all this mess coincided with our corporate fast, huh? Co-ink-i-dink, ya think?

Friends, the enemy is not an idiot. He’s a wily old snake who sits coiled up, waiting for the most opportune time to take a pot shot at us. Like Pastor Tina said in her blog entry Only the Strong Survive, he doesn’t try to attack the strong. He comes after us when we are weak and weary.

And I’ve been anything but strong the last couple of weeks.

Well, the fight is ON now, you slithering slime! Now that my weary brain has grasped what he’s doing, I will rise up and recognize this situation for what it is: a distraction to keep me too exhausted to spend face time with Christ. Of course he doesn’t want me to get the breakthrough that I seek! I might be just a little more effective for the Kingdom if that happens.

For a minute, that old snake forgot Who’s daughter he was messin’ with.

Berry Sweet Blog Award

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 17:36:00 +0000

I have just been deeply honored by a dear friend, Barbara. She has bestowed on me the Berry Sweet Blog Award!

A few years ago, Barbara was publisher and editor of the ladies' ministry newsletter at Christ Central Lake City. About that time, the passion had begun to burn in my soul to write about the things that God laid on my heart, so I submitted an article to Barbara for the next edition. Barbara's encouragement and advice during that first effort propelled me forward and gave me confidence. Her mentorship didn't stop there. She encouraged me to move forward in a leadership capacity in women's ministry, and that forward motion hasn't stopped since. Thank you, Barbara, for your love and inspiration. You are such a blessing!

Now for the award details:

The rules are:

1-Copy the award to your blog
2-Choose 5-10 of your favorites blogs to send the award to.
3-Email the ones selected to let them know the award is there.
4-Create links to them

This award is for blogs that show kindness and sweetness in the entries.

These blogs are by normal, everyday women. But each one of them has a heart for God and the potential to be a high profile, nationally known writer and speaker. One is my pastor, one is my "sister of the pen," and the other three ... I don't even know them. I found them via Lysa TerKeurst's blog. I just lurk around on their blogs and enjoy reading their hearts and being blessed by their transparency.

Know that each one of you are a blessing to me!

Tina Johns
Stephanie Fink
Miss Sandy
Kimberly
Joyful

I thought about giving this award to Barbara, but I think the point of this award is to pass it onward. Thanks, Barbara, for honoring me in such a sweet way. You are still encouraging me! I love you and miss you!

Kim

Spider eyes

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 18:11:00 +0000

My husband bought me the niftiest little item a while back. It’s a little LED light on an adjustable headband. Since I like to read in bed at night, and he likes to sleep in the dark, it’s a win-win situation. Even though it is a small device, the twin LED lamps are very strong. (It even has a red light setting. When I turn that on in the dark, all you can see are two beady little red eyes. I look like the Terminator!) I’ve started using it to walk the dogs at night since it is so dark on our rural 20+ acres. It’s great for seeing the dogs when they are trying to hide. I just call their names and they instinctively turn their heads toward me, their eyes reflecting in the light -- giving away their location.

And yes, I look like the biggest nerd with this light attached to my forehead!

Since this light moves with my head and eyes, I have avoided holes, debris and other obstacles that would have tripped me up in the dark. In the early morning, the dew sparkles along the ground under the LED light. One night, I noticed the sparkling in the grass, but realized that the temperature hadn’t reached dewpoint yet. Upon further inspection, I was amazed to find that the sparkling that I had been seeing at night wasn’t water sparkling – but spider’s eyes. Bazillions of them. Big ones, baby ones. Mostly garden spiders.

I guess spiders don’t have eyelids.

When I bent down to inspect several of them, they didn’t move. Prodding them with a stick didn’t produce a reaction, other than to curl up their legs and play dead. Maybe it was too cold, or maybe the superbright LED light hypnotizes them.

I’ve lived out here for several years and walked the dogs in the dark more times than I can count. Now, I’m not an arachnophobe, but the realization that I've been walking over, around and through a bunch of those leggy creatures in the dark does tend to unnerve me a little.

Isn’t this why we have lights? To illuminate the possible dangers?

Many times we are attracted and captivated by the sparkling lights. The world can be full of pretty things that glisten. But we must thoroughly inspect and investigate these things before we pick them up and make them part of our lives. They must be held up to the powerful light of God’s Word.

Even more treacherous, there are things that sparkle and glisten in the church or religious circles that can cause us to stumble on our walk with Christ. Just because something is wrapped in religion or spirituality, doesn’t make it right. We must scrutinize that thing under the mighty Lamp of the Word of God and ask that Great Discerner, the Holy Spirit, to open our spiritual eyes to the truth, to remove the scales from our eyes. We must have God’s Word implanted in our hearts so that we can distinguish truth from fiction.

So. Are you gonna wear your headlight? The world already thinks we are crazy. Let ‘em think we're nerds, too.

Psalm 119:105
Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.

Come and dine

4given@unreasonablegrace.net (Unreasonable Grace) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 20:43:00 +0000

My weekday morning routine includes a few minutes of mommy-time with my four canine children. Yesterday, I was finishing up a piece of coffee cake before leaving for work. Three of the four pups were sitting at my feet, looking innocent and cute, waiting - and drooling - for the anticipated bite of cake. I cut the last piece into four bites and started handing out the treat. But the fourth dog still hadn’t made her appearance in the kitchen. I called her two or three times before she trotted around the corner and took her treat out of my hand. She had been laying in the living room, in front of the fireplace, staying warm.

The strange thing about this is: all of the dogs usually congregate in the kitchen with us because there is always a chance they will get thrown a bite of what’s being prepared. They don’t usually have to be called – it’s more likely that we have to shoo them out of the room!

Spot, Chelsey, Carmella, Pearl & Bear

My first reaction when having to call Pearl more than once was one of irritation. Who has to call a dog to eat, anyway?

On the way to work, I mulled this over. And wondered if God gets irritated with me when He calls me to dine at His table, and I’m busy sitting by the fire, staying warm. This doesn’t mean that I’m always sitting idle, doing nothing. It could be that I have become too busy to sit with Him and sup with Him. But sadly, I’m often in my comfortable zone, doing what I’m comfortable doing, and miss His entreaty to join Him for Father-time.

The passage in Luke 10:38-42 (NIV) came to mind:
As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

Too often, I’ve been Martha. Busy working, and missing out on the best in order to accomplish the good. Yes, the work has to be done … needs to be done. But when I've only made time to do the work, to stay occupied by something else rather than sitting still in His presence, then I’ve sold myself short by missing out on the main thing.

The main thing is a sweet, deep relationship with my Savior. In Revelation 3:20, Jesus says: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” When I am invited to have dinner with friends, it’s not just about eating. It’s about the fellowship. The bonding. The caring for one another. If I miss that dinner appointment, I’ve missed much more than a meal.

The Savior invites us to spend time with Him. He is the Lover of our souls and He wants us to know Him, love Him, to crave His very presence like He craves ours. When we've reached that place in our relationship, He won't have to call us into His presence. We'll be there already.