Unreasonable Grace

Prayers Answered Without the Glamour

2011-08-22T17:00:00.002-04:00

I've been praying over a very specific matter over the last several months. It's one of those situations that swells and recedes over the course of time. Some days it's very bothersome, other days it's out of sight and out of mind. I've prayed quietly and I've prayed intensely, depending on the momentary ferocity of the situation. In my angst and despair, like David, I asked God to destroy my enemies. Not actually destroy the people, but to destroy the enemy that has taken foothold in their spirits.

I've even given God advice on how to go about handling this situation. I imagined that He had not enough time to give this situation much thought, so I was trying to give Him a headstart on solving the problem. Guess He took some time to mull over my sage wisdom.

Or not.

As the thing continued to drag on and on and I began to sense Him gently reminding me to pray for my enemies. Reminding me to pray for ME to change. Not THEM.

So, knowing He was right, but not really feeling like admitting it, I began asking blessings over this individual's life. Every day I would battle through the feelings of anger and bitterness and pray for blessings over him. Over time, the sharpness of the pain began to subside. Not because the situation had changed, but because I began to see the individual through Christ's eyes. A lonely, hurting individual who professed to be a Believer by mouth, but whose actions soured his words. While the bitterness would well up now and again, it was receding. And I began to sense peace from the Lord about the situation.

One day, without fanfare or fireworks or trauma, tears or shouting, the situation was resolved. One phone call brought the report of the answer to my prayer. Exactly as I had prayed. For the individual to be blessed. Which brought resolution to my situation.

Don't we really like it when God makes the thunder roll as He announces that He has answered our prayers? The drama queen in all of us rather likes that, I think.

But more often than not, He chooses the quiet, round-about route, much like He did over 2,000 years ago when He sent Jesus to be born a pauper's birth.

The Miracle of Mercy Land

2011-04-20T09:35:00.003-04:00

At one time or another in our lives, we've all looked back with regret at some road we should have taken, a meandering path where we got off track. We all live in one great big pond. And every time we make a move, the water ripples. We may never know how those ripples affect our family and friends ... and even total strangers.

What if we could know? How would it change our actions? Our words? Our decisions? What if we could go back and change some or all of those things we regret?

Mercy Land is an independent young woman during a time period when those three words were rarely strung together with kind intent. She moved to Bay City from the backwoods of Bittersweet Creek and blossomed into a bright, junior editor at the town newspaper. Doc Philips, her mentor and dear friend – also her boss – kept an covert, watchful eye over Mercy while raising her up to be the next publisher and editor of the paper.

Then a mysterious and dangerous book falls into Doc's possession. It contains knowledge that should not be known to humans. Intimate knowledge of everyone he knows ...and everyone that he doesn't know. Knowledge that, if in the wrong hands, could change everything. Doc instinctively knows that Mercy must take possession of the book.

After an irritating, yet handsome young stranger - who somehow knows about the book - moves to town, Mercy is sucked into a swirling vortex of frightening knowledge and other-worldly events that threaten her very existence. Doc is riddled with guilt that Mercy's safety and sanity are at risk. But she is the only one that can be trusted to keep the book. Will the book destroy her? Can she keep the book safe from those who would use its power for evil?

From the very first sentence, I was captivated by Mercy's soft southern drawl and transported back to a simpler life and time of the 1930's in a southern town filled with wonderful and strange characters, wizened fatherly figures and crusty, doting aunts and old maids dispensing sage advice.

River Jordan takes us back to post-depression, small town Americana where life was simple, yet rich. While accompanying her on the walking tour of Bay City, I felt the breeze blowing through the moss-laden oak, smelled the salty Gulf air, and snatches of childhood memories from the lunch counter at Woolworth danced just out of reach.

Jordan has a warm, intimate way with words. I thoroughly enjoyed her delightful phraseology. She can spin a whirlwind tale that – as unbelievable as it may be – is both compelling and redeeming.

I received this book for free from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for this review.

Spring Fever Ramblings of a Masterpiece

2011-03-26T20:50:00.003-04:00

When Spring arrives, the lush foliage returns to the trees, the pollen blooms, the flowers burst forth with their cacophony of color, the birds, butterflies and bees are buzzing about. We pull out the shorts and flip-flops. Spring wanders in on cool breezes, intoxicating and beckoning us to sit a while and enjoy the beauty that God created. Spring – real Spring – lasts only a few days in Florida. On the calendar, Spring lasts several weeks. But Floridians know better. It's an all-too-short season not governed by the likes of a pesky calendar. Most years the flowers don't even get comfortable on the stem before Summer arrives with it's intense humidity and daily thunderstorms. The only respite at that point is to go to the beach, the river, or stay in the A/C.

Today would have been an excellent day to play hooky. That is, if it hadn't been a Saturday.

I slept late – which is my goal every Saturday – and awoke to the sunshine and a wonderful cool spring breeze pouring through the open sliding glass door. The opportunity to loll about in bed without having to jump up and join the rat race on I-75 only happens for me once a week at best. So I intend to milk it for all it's worth.

“The hummingbird is back!” Craig's low tone jolted me wide awake. Without moving anything but my head, I looked out at one of the hummingbird feeders Craig had hung up on the porch.

I grabbed the camera and we lay there for nearly an hour taking pictures and videos as two tiny birds eagerly sampled the sugary concoction from each of the feeders as though they were at a buffet.

What an incredibly exquisite creature God made when he spoke those tiny birds into existence! They even have a heavenly-tasting cake named after them.

Indeed, all of His creation is incredibly complex and beautiful. Excepting roaches and mosquitoes, of course.

When I think about the beautiful hummingbird and how God simply spoke him into existence, it humbles me. We know God spoke everything into existence ... except humans. Considering the extent to which He used physical means to create mankind absolutely blows me away. He formed the first humans with His very own Hands using the dust of the earth.

He got down in the dust and got His Hands dirty to create us.

Just picture that for a minute. The Creator of all that we see and all that we do not see loves us so much that He got down in the dirt to create us. And I imagine that it seems to Him that He never got back up out of the dirt. He continues to get right down in the dirt and mud with us now.

We humans aren't exactly the most beautifully-acting beings He created. Even though He knew before He created us that we would cause Him not only grief and disappointment, but the death of His Only Son, He still took the time to specifically create us in His Own Image with His Own Hands.

Yet the breathtakingly elegant hummingbird who causes no harm or pain, He simply spoke into existence.

I guess that makes everything except us ... simple.

Flawed as we are, we are His Personal Masterpiece.

The Droopy Trumpet Tree

2011-02-11T21:33:00.002-05:00

I have a small tree that my brother-in-law dug up from his backyard in Miami. In his backyard, it was the most gorgeous plant with huge, abundant angel trumpet flowers that weighed down the branches to near breaking point. Well, at least it was gorgeous in his backyard.

Perhaps it thrives on the stifling humidity that makes me despise South Florida. Perhaps its roots need more room than a container – which it lives in because it cannot withstand North Florida winters and must be brought inside to avoid freezing temps. Perhaps it’s because it rains nearly every day in Miami in the summer. Or perhaps it’s because my brother in law has a sprinkler system in his backyard.

During the sticky heat of summer, the lack of rain coupled with a heat index hovering at 100 degrees has caused my trumpet plant to look rather pitiful. After coming home from work, I noticed the leaves of the poor plant were once again drooping – straight down - looking like a dejected child with head down and shoulders slumped over.

After unwinding the 100 miles of garden hose in order to water the plants in that area of the yard (unlike my brother-in-law, I do NOT have a sprinkler system) and soaking all the plants – particularly Mr. Droopy-Drawers – I went inside and hoped for the best.

The next morning, the trumpet plant once again stood gloriously at attention like a Marine Gunny. It was happy and content, rested up and filled up, ready for another day of battling the brutal heat.

When we miss the water of The Word, we start getting thirsty and become dehydrated. One day might not seem like a big deal. Our spiritual leaves droop imperceptibly. After a few more days, we are parched. The enemy is busy whispering that we need rest, we need this or that or the other – anything to distract us from realizing what the problem really is.

There are some weeks of my life like this. I’m pumped up after Sunday service, encouraged in the Word and ready to take on hell with a water pistol. Then Monday rolls around, some disaster happens at work and I’m running full throttle all day. By the time I get home, there are assorted crises that require my attention.
I fall into bed utterly exhausted. When the alarm rings early the next morning, I hit the snooze and can’t seem to pry myself up out of the bed. Tuesday is a rerun of Monday. By Friday, I am running on fumes.

If any man thirsts, let him come unto me, and drink.... (John 7:37). My source is only a breath away. Why am I still thirsty? Hmmmm, maybe it's the “come unto me” part.

My husband is forever reminding me that the trumpet plant has to be watered.

Stronger

2011-01-26T21:26:00.002-05:00

2010 brought a season of change on many fronts: disappointment, sadness and grief has left my head spinning. Always able to burn the candle at both ends and juggle multiple plates over my head, my “normal” abruptly turned upside down. My new “normal” became mental and physical exhaustion, memory lapses and uncharacteristic confusion, financial upheaval, and a surge in ADHD symptoms leaving me with with inability to concentrate.

Up before 5:30am, out the door by 7:05, at work by 8:00, full throttle, all cylinders fully engaged straight through till 5pm. Eating lunch at my desk while continuing to work. By 3pm, my brain is crispy-fried and dreams of doing absolutely n.o.t.h.i.n.g. dance through my head.

Before this season, the desire to just sit down and do nothing was so foreign to me, I began to wonder if I’d lost a few of my marbles.

Maybe there would never be any going back. Maybe I was entering a new, frightening stage of life where I was nothing more than an automaton, living my life on an assembly line of schedules and tasks.

I asked a lot of questions in 2010.

I’ve questioned my worth
As an employee
As a mother
As a wife
As a daughter
As a leader
As a woman.

I questioned my calling
my sanity
my motives
my judgment
my abilities
my intelligence
my place among this frail humanity.

When asked why I’m not the same old Kim I was a few months ago, I found it difficult to put into words. Then I finally hit on it.

I have nothing left to give.

During this last year, I've reached the place of feeling totally inadequate.

Maybe that's exactly where He needed me to be.

Today I drug my tired, inadequate behind out of the office and into my car for the long commute home.

“When will this vicious cycle end? It seems all I do is work, drive home, eat dinner, shower and go to bed. There might be a couple of conversations with my husband somewhere in there too. Otherwise, I don't get a lot of “Kim” time. Time to study deeply, enjoy a movie, or write, or play music.”

Shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. Out of my radio – always at full blast, because that's the way I like it – Mandisa's voice poured out. But I didn't recognize the lyrics.

Hey, heard you were up all night
Thinking about how your world ain't right
And you wonder if things will ever get better
And you're asking why is it always raining on you
When all you want is just a little good news
Instead of standing there stuck out in the weather

Oh, don't hang your head
It's gonna end
God's right there
Even if it's hard to see Him
I promise you that He still cares

There is no such thing as a coincidence.

Instantly, I knew in my heart that God ordained that song to be played at that minute. Just for ME. He knows that my heart longs heavily for what once was. He knows my passion and desires and He certainly knows that I needed to hear a little unsolicited encouragement. And while He was at it, a little explanation for my current situation...

When the waves are taking you under
Hold on just a little bit longer
He knows that this is gonna make you stronger, stronger
The pain ain't gonna last forever
And things can only get better
Believe me
This is gonna make you stronger

Nothing He allows into my life is without purpose. This IS gonna make me stronger.

I have to believe that this season will soon give way to a spiritual Springtime, with the sweet promise of growth and bounty. He makes all things new. He makes no mistakes. He has given me glimpses of what will be, if I just stick close Him and keep pressing on. As long as this body has breath, I have a God-sized purpose to fulfill.

Excuse me, but I have some unfinished writing to get back to.

From Mandisa's new album to be released in the Spring

Stronger
Artist: Mandisa
Album: What If We Were Real?

Hey, heard you were up all night
Thinking about how your world ain't right
And you wonder if things will ever get better
And you're asking why is it always raining on you
When all you want is just a little good news
Instead of standing there stuck out in the weather

Oh, don't hang your head
It's gonna end
God's right there
Even if it's hard to see Him
I promise you that He still cares

When the waves are taking you under
Hold on just a little bit longer
He knows that this is gonna make you stronger, stronger
The pain ain't gonna last forever
And things can only get better
Believe me
This is gonna make you stronger
Gonna make you stronger, stronger, stronger
Believe me, this is gonna make you ...

Try and do the best you can
Hold on and let Him hold your hand
And go on and fall into the arms of Jesus
Oh, lift your head it's gonna end
God's right there
Even when you just can't feel Him
I promise you that He still cares

'Cause if He started this work in your life
He will be faithful to complete it
If only you believe it
He knows how much it hurts
And I'm sure that He's gonna help you get through this

When the waves are taking you under
Hold on just a little bit longer
He knows that this is gonna make you stronger, stronger
The pain ain't gonna last forever
In time it's gonna get better
Believe me
This is gonna make you stronger

I'll Take My Mulligan Now

2010-07-07T21:51:00.002-04:00

I really do love the game of golf … although I pretty much stink at it. When I was first learning the game, I quickly grew accustomed to my friends allowing me mulligans or “do-overs” because I was still learning. But after a few months, they weren’t feeling so generous. Those do-overs had become my crutch.

Oh my. It would be pretty cool if God would let us do-over, huh?

Actually, He does. And His do-over supply is unlimited. Even though I’ve been walking with Him for some time now, He’s still generous with them.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve wondered at what God’s doing by moving me backward. Maybe moving backward is the way to move forward. I had really gotten off course. There were obviously things I didn’t do years ago that I should have done. Now I’m given the opportunity to go back and do-over.

The past few months have been difficult in a way that I find hard to explain. While I’ve felt His presence, it’s been at arm’s length. Like a dad letting go of the back of the bike while the kid wobbles down the road without training wheels. Still there, still nearby, but backing off and waiting for me to buck up and give ‘er all I’ve got.

And I’m still wobbling.

I won’t kid you. Being laid off from a really good paying job has been pretty intimidating. I am a black-and-white type A that sees harsh reality first. I saw the significant loss of income and really wanted to just melt into a puddle of pity.

As I look back and review our finances for the last five months, I see that God has been faithful to provide all that we’ve needed. We have remained in covenant with Him, and He has kept His Word.

Seven years ago, I was straddling the fence with God. Three days after I left my job for “greener pastures,” a tragic accident put me on my face before Him. He let me know in no uncertain terms that it was time to fish or cut bait. I stopped running and started following.

Funny how things have worked out. I’ve come back to the position I held from 1998-2003. This time, things are different. Very different. Then … I was a mess. I was so secure in my insecurity that I’m surprised anyone would employ me for very long.

But now, I am secure in Who’s I am. I’m no longer struggling with making my life “work”. My priorities are properly ordered.

He’s been teaching me lessons during this time in the desert. It’s been hot here, and particularly dry. Dry emotionally, spiritually and physically. I’ve not been able to pour out because there has been nothing inside me to give. I’m feeling the strength returning to my spirit and am excited about what’s to come. He’s been faithful to refresh my soul in the oasis of His love and protection.

Dirty Laundry

2010-05-20T21:27:00.003-04:00

My black lab, Jasmine, is absolutely enthralled when I separate the laundry. On Saturday mornings, she sits and watches eagerly as I pull each item of clothing from the basket and separate it into the appropriate pile. Nose gently reaching out, she thoroughly sniffs the clothes, taking entirely too much delight in breathing in the smells of yesterday’s journey.

There are people that are equally enthralled with other people’s dirty laundry. They gleefully investigate each morsel of someone’s journey of yesterday and memorize it so they can vomit it back out again to listening ears. There’s just one problem with vomit. It stinks.

I can hear Don Henley singing …
Dirty little secrets, dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybody's pie
Love to cut you down to size, we love dirty laundry
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em all around

The tabloids make me nauseous. Go to any news website or TV channel and – in order to actually get any news - you will have to work your way around the celebrity “news.” Who cares how many babies Angelie wants to adopt. Or how many pills Lindsey has popped. Or that Brittney’s back in rehab again. Or how many women Tiger slept with. Wasn’t one more than his wife more than enough?

Oh my soul! Don’t we have more important things to ponder?

Why are we as a people obsessed with others’ undoing?

The Pharisees were obsessed with dirty laundry. They had tattle-tales scattered all over the countryside to dig up and bring back tasty bits of gossip – all so they could call out the offender in public … which made them feel pious and righteous.

Hey, wait a minute! Isn’t that why we do it?

To feel superior? To fend off our own feelings of inferiority and filth?

When the Pharisees brought the adulterous woman before Christ, they quoted the law of Moses and then dared Jesus to refute the law. After writing interesting tidbits in the dust for a while, Jesus agreed – on one condition: “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!”

I'm thinkin' it got pretty quiet.

And I wonder what He was writing in the dust?

Perhaps He was listing the hidden sins of the Pharisees. Maybe that’s why they skulked away without a word.

I have a past that has been forgiven by the Creator of the Universe. What right do I – of all people – have to point a finger at someone else? Indeed ... do any of us have that right?

As my husband always says, “when I point a finger at you, there are four more pointing back at me.” (That kinda sounds Forrest Gump-ish, doesn’t it?)

Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. For you will be treated as you treat others. The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged. And why worry about a speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying to your friend, “Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,” when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye. Don’t waste what is holy on people who are unholy. Don’t throw your pearls to pigs! They will trample the pearls, then turn and attack you.” Matthew 7:1-6 (NLT)

Hmmmm…. Was Jesus calling the Pharisees “pigs”?

They just don't get it!

2010-04-27T21:36:00.002-04:00

We were having dinner with one of my husband’s business associates a few weeks ago and the subject matter had moved away from business matters to personal banter. The fellow brought up a situation that occurred months ago and seemed bent on re-opening old wounds. When Craig didn’t allow himself to be drawn into the mud-throwing, the fellow asked Craig “How can you even look that guy in the face, after what he did to you?”

Craig’s reply, “It’s because of Jesus.” The fellow’s eyes grew wide and he threw up his hand dismissively and asked again “No, really! How can you?” Craig replied, “Our flesh doesn’t want to forgive, but we make the choice to forgive because Jesus forgave us. We can’t operate on our emotions, but must forgive because it is right.” This time the man grimaced with irritation and waved both hands in front of his face, gesturing as if he wanted to erase us and start all over again.

Now, this man is one of the kindest and most cordial gentlemen we’ve ever met, an astute businessman and very charitable – both in funds and in overlooking the offenses of others.

But he just could not accept that Craig had made a choice to forgive someone so easily for something he considered an injustice of high magnitude. He just didn’t get it.

The whole situation caused me to stop and reflect on personal forgiveness.

When someone has reeeeeeeally hurt you, if you can immediately forgive them without them asking, and without experiencing any disappointment, hurt or resentment, then you can stop reading right now. I should be reading YOUR blog, not you reading mine.

I have not achieved that depth of spirituality where I can immediately, without thought, put aside that offense and not dwell on it any longer. It takes me a few minutes.

Ok, maybe a few hours.

But eventually I work through it, whining to God about the unfairness of it all.

“Unfair?” He gently asks.

Remembering Who I’m talking to, and Who’s Son bore the brunt of my sin – the epitome of unfairness – I repent. “Ok, Lord, I get the drift.”

And so I resolve to put away the injustice, to forgive and forget. Granted, I may have to put it away several times because it keeps creeping back out of the shadows, but I do make the choice to put it away.

Whenever I’ve been so offended that think I can’t possibly forgive, I think about Jesus. Being beaten to a pulp. Hanging from a cross. Dying a criminal’s death. For ME.

Just considering how He has forgiven me so many times for so many things makes me want to crawl back inside myself and hide.

This is why we as Believers can forgive. We really do not have a choice. “But if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (emphasis mine) Matthew 6:15, NLT.

Does God forgive us because He condones our sin? No. And neither are we condoning others’ sins against us when we forgive so easily. That’s not the point. Realizing that I am not in a position to deny forgiveness is.

God shows emotion throughout the Bible. He gets angry when humans sin. He shows mercy to the unfortunate and downtrodden, orphans and widows. He shows delight in the praise and charity of His people. He even celebrates over us with singing. And when we repent and turn our faces back toward Him, He lavishes us with loving forgiveness.

He is God, after all, so I can’t compare my actions or reactions to His. But in my tiny human mind, I imagine that He gets angry or upset when we sin and do not immediately repent. Then again, everything I’ve read in the Bible tells me that He is ready and even longing to forgive me; just waiting with anticipation for me to ask - so He can shower forgiveness over my life.

Since forgiveness is divine and not human, I realize that those who have not yet given their hearts to Christ simply cannot wrap their minds around the concept of unconditional forgiveness. It’s something you have to experience before you are able to give it out.

Maybe when the world sees Believer after Believer after Believer walking in forgiveness, it will give them pause and cause them to consider what’s different about us. Maybe they will ask. And maybe, just maybe, they will want that forgiveness for themselves.

Confident Joy

2010-04-21T20:51:00.004-04:00

I have a new puppy. A beautiful black lab female named Jasmine. She’s about 8 months old and absolutely full of life and vigor.

She finds joy in getting up in the morning. She finds joy in eating and chewing on rawhide treats. She finds joy in going outside to potty. She finds joy in playing with me and her four-legged siblings. She finds joy in sitting beside the bed at night and watching us fall asleep.

Bear is my old-man black lab. He’s nine years old now and appears to have long since forgotten how to play or how to be joyful about much of anything. But just let me hold out a piece of left-over steak. Or pull out a tennis ball and ask him if he wants to play fetch. For an old dog, he sure can bust a move! He’s still got the fire deep inside.

His decline in playfulness has been so gradual over the years that I had forgotten how he was as a pup. It took bringing Jasmine into our home to remember the joy – and trials! – of having a Labrador puppy in the family. Ahhhh, youth.

In our young church, we have a lot of new Believers. Many of them were unchurched when they came to Christ, so they have no pre-conceived notion of how they should behave. It is entirely too cool to watch their spirits bubble over with love and joy for their Savior. Sometimes I watch them and get convicted that I don’t seem to bubble as much as they do.

It’s then that I realize that still waters run deep. My joy has settled into my soul and has become part of who I am. It’s not just icing on the cake anymore. It has permeated my soul.

It’s kinda like being married for a long time to your best friend. Just because you’re not still slobbering all over one another doesn’t mean the love isn’t as intense. It has just gone deeper. It’s simply a strong, peaceful, abiding love. Not the puppy-lickin’ kind of love of young lovers.

Growing older in faith seems to parallel deepening marital joy. New Believers are like a new spring bursting forth from the surface of the ground. But those that have walked this path for a while are like a high-magnitude spring that has flowed for years and has birthed a deep, calm river.

Our joy comes from somewhere deep within us – it resides there because we are secure on The Rock. Our joy is not dependent on circumstance but instead, rests confidently at the door of an empty tomb.

Regardless of what comes during our time on this planet, we know what eternity holds.

It is joy unspeakable.

But don’t you know … no matter how long we’ve been walking with Him, Jesus still gets tickled when we get all giddy about Him again?

Fightin' Mad

2010-04-13T20:59:00.002-04:00

Now I’m fightin’ mad.

I’ve spent the last two months in a spiritual desert. I think that old snake had a conversation with God about me and asked permission to mess with me.

I’ve fought physical and mental exhaustion for the past two months. I’ve blamed my new/old job because it’s a cerebral challenge. (Translation: it’s been kicking my butt.) Just when I think things are getting easier to handle and I’m not quite so tired all the time, here comes more junk thrown at me. Financial issues, grown children issues, and – for heaven’s sake! - even my dogs are creating problems! It seems like everything around me is off kilter. As I wade through another mess, here come personal attacks on me and my sweet husband!

Now that I’m seeing things a little clearer and know this season for what it is, I’m ready to kick some devil tail.

I’m tired of him messing with me. He may have had me off track for a little while, but he has apparently forgotten Who’s child he’s been messin’ with.

So I’m puttin’ my praise on LOUDER. I’m reading the Word LONGER. I’m memorizing MORE scripture. I’m PRAYING for my enemies instead of asking for retribution. (That one's TOUGH!) I’m WRITING again. Instead of stepping down, I’m stepping UP. I’m DONE living defeated.

The devil is under MY feet, not the other way round.

Thin Places

2010-03-06T16:50:00.004-05:00

Everyone who really knows me knows that I truly delight in a well-turned phrase. The gift of writing intrigues me. There are a few authors that I absolutely love and will read any book that they write – simply because I love their transparency and style of writing and I know they will not disappoint me.

Mary E. DeMuth has been added to that short list.

With her latest book, Thin Places, she steps away from the fiction that she is known for and jumps into the potentially dangerous waters of memoirs.

Memories are a mental pictorial that trace the path we walked to arrive at this particular moment in time. If we are fortunate, the majority of those memories will be pleasant ones.

But the unpleasant memories can be redeemed if they are marked by spiritual growth.

Mary has the courage to grab me by the hand and lead me on a guided tour of the darkest times in her life. Somehow - surprisingly - I am not left with sadness, but with bright hope.

There are moments when I feel like I'm reading words from my own personal journal. Words that no one else is ever supposed to see.

And I don't feel so alone.

Mary is one of us "messy folk." A tattered soul with some pretty horrific memories that no woman should possess. Very Job-like, Mary questions God and rails at Him for the awful injustices in her life. Like Mary, I sometimes experience the agonizing feeling of abandonment when it appears that God has chosen not to intervene in my little crisis. Awful words are uttered, yet healing flows from above in the aftermath.

People with turbid pasts tend to keep them closely guarded. Some memoirs are so tidy and self-serving that they never open the blinds on the windows of their life so we can catch a tiny glimpse of the real story. But Mary doesn't just open the blinds. She yanks them down from the window frame. And as she exposes the chaos of her past, we see a loving Savior tenderly stoop down in the middle of it all - and start cleaning up.

She takes her mask off. And puts a face on Jesus.

Mary is the Nicole Nordeman of Christian authors. No Christian-ese spoken. Raw, passionate, honest, and real. Just the undressed-up truth of divine grace. Words that jar me out of my comfort zone.

After reading this book, I feel like one who has just returned from a mission trip to a third world country. I’ve beheld things that I knew, in theory, happened or existed elsewhere, but not within my little sphere. That feeling of being completely humbled and changed. An inexplicable change. One of introspection. One of gratefulness for what I have. For what I’ve been through. For the calamities in life that have turned around and worked in my favor. And for those that didn’t work in my favor, but worked in me for good nevertheless.

It is a story of redemption in progress that you will not forget. And maybe it will help you begin to see that same redemption at work in your life.

Simply Amazing

2010-01-30T21:39:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, I think God is chuckling to Himself as He watches me furiously run round and round in a frantic tizzy.

He created me, so He is intimately familiar with my control-freak nature. And He is constantly testing me, stretching me, teaching me to let go and let Him.

This whole unemployment debacle is just the latest in my lifelong lesson of realizing that I am not in control, that I can do nothing without Him. I have prayed my guts out over the last two weeks. Hmmm. This might be something He’s interested in me doing more often, huh?

I’ve sent out resumes and applied for about 748 jobs, but not gotten one good bite from any of them. I had one emotional meltdown on Monday, but managed – with constant prayer – to pick myself up and keep on going. Doesn’t matter how many jobs I apply for. The only thing that matters is the one job offer.

A request for a letter of recommendation from one of my former employers resulted in a lunch meeting – purportedly to give me the letter. Halfway through our conversation - catching up on what’s been happening in our lives over the last ten years - I was offered the chance to return to work for them again.

I was expecting a “pity party” lunch. And I got a job offer. The job offer. Isn’t that just like Him? Above and beyond anything that we can ask or expect.

I felt immediate peace, but asked for 24 hours to think (and pray) about it. I laid a fleece before the Lord – because this decision was too important to make any mistake about. I awoke the next morning to the Answer.

So, my unscheduled “vacation” comes to an end as I return to work next week.

The really cool thing about this situation is: my former employers wanted me to come back to work for them. They weren’t actively seeking a new employee, but when they became aware of my sudden availability, they quickly sought to re-hire me.

It was all God.

That’s why there were no other bites on the resumes and applications. God was already working this out in the background while I rushed around, spinning my wheels, stressing out, fretting how to pay bills that haven’t even become due yet.

The day I was informed that my position was eliminated, I added a new verse to my scripture memory spiral notebook: “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” (John 13:7 NIV). Beth Moore quoted this scripture on her blog that night and – aha! - I realized this verse was for me right now. I committed it to memory and reminded God of His words frequently during our conversations over these last few days.

Don’t you think God gets a kick out of us reminding Him of what He said? At least He knows that we’ve been paying attention.

Thank Jehovah-Jirah, my Provider, that He has provided me a job – smack-dab in the middle of this economic mess – doing exactly what I love to do, working for some awesome people.

Thanks for all who offered up prayers on my behalf. We serve a God who hears, who sees, who cares … and who answers prayer and blesses His children.

He never ceases to amaze me.

I think He likes it that way.

Day Three - Hope Rising

2010-01-24T22:03:00.002-05:00

Nine days ago, I was informed that my job was being eliminated.

My flesh’s natural tendency is toward negativity, doubt and despair. I’ve always joked that if I expect the worst, I won’t be disappointed … and it can only get better. But that’s not what Christ died on the cross for. He died to give me hope. Not despair. Victory. Not defeat.

I finished up the transition of my workload to others in the firm this week, so I’ve been working and very busy. When I arrived home Friday night after my last day, I had anticipated that my spirits would suddenly fall into the bottom of the pit, knowing that I was officially unemployed, with no offer of another job in hand.

But in contrast to the deep depression that threatened to overwhelm me, my outlook is filled with hope.

I’ve fought those little niggles of failing faith throughout the day when thoughts of financial crisis crossed my mind. Every now and then, my heart would beat a little harder and faster at the reality of starting all over again at a new job. When someone at work would say “I’m going to miss you” or “I’m so sorry for you,” the pity party that has been lurking in the shadows threatened to break out into Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me.

But God has shown Himself faithful this week. He has put so many people in my path that have encouraged me, who have provided leads for good jobs, who have prayed for me.

And I feel the strength of their prayers.

During worship service this morning, the Holy Spirit spoke to me in a powerful way. We sing songs every week that God has ordained to speak directly to someone’s heart to strengthen them during a time of crisis in their life. This week, it was my turn.

Jehovah-Jirah, my Provider. Jehovah-Nissi, You reign in Victory. Jehovah-Shalom, my Prince of Peace. And I worship You because of Who You Are.

God is my provider.
He already has my victory in the palm of His Hand.
He is my Peace.

He can move the mountains, my God is mighty to save.

As I stand in look at the mountain in front of me, I can choose to despair, whine and give up. Or I can speak to the mountain with the authority I possess through Jesus Christ.

I’ve not had a serious emotional meltdown – like I thought I would have. Even when I’ve tried to feel sorry for myself this week, I’ve been surprised at the calmness in my spirit. And I can tell you that this calmness is NOT normal for me and nor did it come from me. It’s the Holy Spirit – buoying my soul through this storm.

Christ said He would send a Comforter. This is one of those times that I’ve really felt His presence in great abundance.

And I’m starting to get really excited about that new job He has prepared for me.

The Source

2010-01-16T17:03:00.002-05:00

God is my source. My job is not.
God is my source. My job is not.

The past couple of years have been frightening for all of us. We've seen unemployment, foreclosures and bankruptcies skyrocket and the number of suicides escalate.

God is my source. My job is not.
God is my source. My job is not.

Well, this phrase started rumbling around in my noodle a few months ago, and I felt compelled to begin speaking it aloud. The firm I work for had already laid off several employees over the past eighteen months. I started wondering … “am I next?” More than once, I’ve pondered … “what would I do if it happens to me?”

On my way home yesterday, with tears streaming down my cheeks, the phrase suddenly came to mind again.

Except this time it’s for real.

Because there is no job.

My position was eliminated. There were no performance issues that caused this. Strictly a monetary decision. I’ve had the awful responsibility of being the bearer of this bad news to employees during two downsizing phases since this market mess began. Now I found myself on the receiving end of those awful words.

For the first time in my adult career, I am leaving a job because I was terminated. Every other job change has been my choice – finding a new opportunity, a step up. But this feeling is indescribable.

Feels a little bit like someone shoved me off a cliff.

As I poured out my heart to God, the Holy Spirit again dropped that phrase into my mind:

God is my source.
My job is not.

I prayed for reassurance, calmness and peace. It was then that I mentally tuned in to the words Mandisa was singing on the radio:

He is with you in the conference room
When the world is coming down on you
And your wife and kids don’t know you anymore
He is with you in the ICU
When the doctors don’t know what to do
And it scares you to the core
He is with you

We may weep for a time
But joy will come in the morning

Wow. Who says God doesn’t speak aloud to us anymore?

I now realize He has been preparing me all along for this traumatic change in my life. That phrase was dropped into my spirit ahead of time to soften my heart and mind to the possibility that I may have to live it and claim it.

God gave me that job. It is very clear to me that He placed me in that position nearly six years ago. I believe He now has something even better for me, and that He orchestrated this seemingly tragic event so that my eyes would be opened. I wasn’t looking for another job, so I may have missed the opportunity. He had to position me so I would be looking in the right direction to see that “new thing” that awaits me.

I am in covenant with The Father. God will honor His covenant with me.

He has promised never to leave or forsake me. And God never reneges on a promise.

It’s time to put on my battlefield boots and walk in faith. Get ready. I’m taking you along for the ride. My faith might get a little banged up. It might get bumpy, muddy or downright ugly at times, but God will deliver me through this trial. I’d appreciate you lifting me up in prayer when the Lord calls me to your mind.

The Sea of Forgetfullness

2009-12-31T22:43:00.002-05:00

My 16 year old daughter has an odd obsession with the 80’s band Duran Duran. My husband has all the music videos from “back in the day” and they will both sit and watch the silly things for hours on end. Over and over. And they dissect the visual story – the hair, the outfits, the lighting, the props, the moves - as though they are strategizing over world peace.

As if their critique could change any of it.

Siskel and Ebert they are NOT.

It’s slightly amusing … but annoying … and futile.

I am one of those who relive regrettable moments in my past, only to beat myself up about it again and again. I will drive past an old haunt, catch a glimpse of a face from the past, or hear a snippet of conversation that takes me back to a time that I’d rather forget. Permanently. Wipe it from my mind as though it never happened.

I sit in the darkened theatre of my mind and cringe as I watch myself wallowing in the mire of sin. And wonder how I ever got to that point. If I’d only done this. Or not gone there. Or just said no. Things would be different. I would be different.

I’m not so different from my husband and daughter sitting in front of the TV, dissecting thirty year old music videos.

And is God amused? Annoyed? Saddened?

Because my what I am doing IS futile.

Too many moments have been wasted rehashing an unchangeable past.

I cannot change my past. But I can change whether I allow it to hinder or improve me.

If God wanted us to forget our past, He could wipe it from our memory altogether. But He does not. We need to remember from whence we came, so we can fully appreciate the Hand of Grace that we rest in today.

But neither does He intend for us to berate ourselves over and over for past transgressions. He has already forgiven and cast those sins into the depths of the sea (Micah 7:19). He will no longer remember, act on or think about those sins that have been forgiven (Jeremiah 31:45).

2010 is moments away. I declare that this is the year in which I am breaking the chains of my past that the enemy has used to tie me down for so long.

Psalm 103:12 – As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

My sins are erased, they are no more, they're on the ocean floor. (Audio Adreneline)

The choice of contentment

2009-12-07T21:34:00.002-05:00

Either I’m maturing spiritually or else I’m just getting too old to care anymore. I’d like to think it’s the former.

This Christmas isn’t about the presents. The depressed economy is depressing our funds, which depresses our ability to purchase expensive gifts for our family. Of course, every year the supply of money never seems to be enough to purchase adequate gifts. I’ve always had some ridiculous, self-imposed minimum standard that must be spent on each family member. And each year, I would work feverishly, juggling bills to make sure I had enough cash available to purchase the appropriately expensive gifts.

This year, the cash just isn’t there. And you know what? I’m actually at peace about it. I’m not worried about it. I’m working on personal, thoughtful gifts, put together with love. And I didn’t even buy one single Christmas decoration. Not even the little doo-hickeys that the ornaments hang on. Not even gift tags. What I already have is sufficient. Handmade gift tags will do just fine.

I have always wrestled with being content. Always thought that it was up to me to do better, to get better, to have better. To describe me as competitive is a feeble understatement. I am my own biggest competition.

Nicer clothes. Better vehicle. Fancier home. Higher profile career. More expensive trinkets, food, hobbies. Aren’t we well trained to be discontent with what we have?

But Jesus has been making sure I hear the message on contentment this past year. A lot. Whether it was Pastor, Joyce Meyer, Beth Moore, or an article, devotion or blog I read – that same old contentment rhetoric seemed to be repeated everywhere I turned. Over and over. Hmmmmmm.

I may be slow, but I guess He deems me worth waiting on.

This is one of those mountains that I’ve been marching round and round, wearing a trench – who am I kidding? It’s a stinkin' moat, for crying out loud! – around the base. It’s high time I get this lesson under my belt and move on. Or else, I'll have to listen to that message a few more hundred times.

I’ve learned that God is pleased when we are content in whatever circumstance we find ourselves. And when we don’t appreciate what He’s already given us, He’s likely not interested in blessing us with more. Oh, and just in case you were wondering, pretend-contentment won’t work. God has the uncanny ability to see right through that junk.

So I’ve made the choice to be content. After a while, that choice is becoming habit. Eventually I won’t have to even think about it. Contentment will come as naturally to me as breathing.

This is God’s gift to me this Christmas. It’s been a long lesson that culminates in a particularly sweet kind of peace I’ve longed for all my life. The by-product of this gift is a wonderful release from anxiety and stress. Who knew that discontentment could be so tiring?

I’ve still got a lot of rough edges. Wonder what lesson He’s got planned for 2010?

Map? or Mapquest?

2009-11-17T21:58:00.003-05:00

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

2009-10-28T20:07:00.002-04:00

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?

2009-10-17T12:53:00.003-04:00

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

2009-09-28T20:32:00.021-04:00

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.

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Real Hurts, Real Hope

The Harrison Kaleidoscope

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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

2009-09-14T21:57:00.003-04:00

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

2009-09-07T21:45:00.004-04:00

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

2009-08-27T21:04:00.002-04:00

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

2009-08-24T21:19:00.001-04:00

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

2009-08-20T21:43:00.002-04:00

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

2009-08-12T20:12:00.004-04:00

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

2009-08-04T21:25:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-29T15:55:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-29T08:02:00.003-04:00

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

2009-06-21T16:02:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-13T10:47:00.005-04:00

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

2009-05-30T18:41:00.005-04:00

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

2009-05-18T06:44:00.002-04:00

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

2009-04-25T09:14:00.004-04:00

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

2009-04-23T22:07:00.002-04:00

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

2009-04-15T13:09:00.004-04:00

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?

2009-03-29T21:44:00.002-04:00

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

2009-03-15T18:56:00.005-04:00

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

2009-03-12T13:36:00.009-04:00

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

2009-03-03T13:11:00.005-05:00

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

2009-02-21T15:43:00.005-05:00

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.

A little birdy told me so

2009-02-15T19:26:00.002-05:00

Spring is coming. The last few days, I’ve noticed a flurry of winged activity around the house. What appears to be an entire flock of small birds, sparrows of some type, have invaded the property in search of nesting space and materials. In just two days, I’ve noticed the beginning of construction of four new nests right outside the house.

This afternoon, I inadvertently interrupted a contractor/husband-bird, in his nest-building duties. I walked out the back door and was startled by a flash of color and the whoosh of wings. I retreated to the other end of the porch, stood quietly and waited for the little guy to come back so I could see where he was building.

After several minutes, I saw him light in the tree branch nearby. After several seconds, he moved to closer, then closer still. He kept jerking his little head around, looking for predators. I felt sorry for him and thought it was too bad they didn’t have little chiropractor bird physicians to can relieve the inevitable, resulting pain. But then again, God cares about the little sparrows - maybe they don't get neck pain!

After he was satisfied that I wasn’t moving and no cats where nearby, he flew to a small opening in a storage container I have on the porch. He took his little twig treasure inside, set it in place, popped his head back out for a quick look around before flying off to get the next twig.

I told Craig about the incident later, and commented that I didn’t know what was stored in that container, but that I wouldn’t be opening it for a few months because of the nest. “It’s a home now,” he replied calmly. (How I love that man!)

With spring on the way, I’m thinking about planting a vegetable garden, and some new flowers and other plants around the house. With the onset of warm weather, new life springs up all around us. We start thinking about new beginnings. Clean out the old, make way for the new.

God is a God of seasons. He put these seasons in motion for a reason. Seedtime and harvest. Fertile and fallow ground. Both the physical and spiritual realms. There is a season when the ground stands cold in a state of hibernation when nothing grows.

Then comes the Spring. When the warm winds return, the sun warms the ground, and new life sticks it’s little green head above the surface of the soil.

To the Believer who has been in the grip of the cold fingers of winter, wondering if this season will ever end: know that Spring is on it’s way. Whether you see the signs or not, it will come – soon!

My Valentine

2009-02-14T21:10:00.005-05:00

Sometimes I watch him without him noticing. And I smile. My eyes might get a little misty.

He's my direct opposite and sometimes I can't imagine how we actually got together. But he is the most wonderful man that God ever put on this planet - fully human man, that is. As I was floundering around in the world, trying harder and harder to get as far away from God as I could, God was watching me, caring for me, planning my future. Through a bizarre set of circumstances, I met Craig. And I was done.

We've been married nearly seven years. And they have been the most wonderful years of my life. They have not been the easiest years, by any means. But his unconditional love for me has totally flipped my world upside down. And I can't imagine ever going back to the old normal.

God has blessed me with the most amazing gift of a loving husband who has stood by me, put up with me, defended me, protected me, and still plans to grow old with me. Not a day goes by that I don't thank God for trusting me with Craig's heart.

If Jesus tarries, I look forward to many more Valentines days, many more Christmases, many more anniversaries with the love of my life - Craig.

My Name

2009-02-13T18:43:00.001-05:00

When a couple is expecting a baby, they will sit for hours looking through books of baby names, trying to select just the right one. Many times this process can be contentious and cause rather heated disagreements, but the dad usually gives in. Who wants to argue with a pregnant woman?

Names go through popularity cycles. Names that were popular in the 1950’s and 60’s are eschewed now for names that are so much cooler. Come on! Who’d want to be named Kim when they could have a name like Alexis or Madison. It’s rather refreshing when a baby is given an family name or Biblical name rather than a trendy “new” name. The old family name may seem a little out of place in our current culture, but it has a sentimental meaning to it. It brings to mind the family member for whom the child was named, perpetuating the family legacy.

A name is that by which a person is marked and known and is an identifier or a label that sets individuals apart. Besides designating persons, the name might also stand for fame, renown, reputation, character gained or expressed. In Biblical times, people believed that there was a connection between the name and the person it identified. The name could reflect the nature of the individual, the circumstances surrounding the birth, the parents’ gratitude to God for this precious gift.

A few weeks ago I was surfing ministry sites on the internet and ran across a devotional that suggested that I look up the meaning of my name and then research the scriptures and find a verse or verses that used that meaning. I would then have a “name scripture”. Sounded like an interesting little project. I was a little disappointed when I looked up the meaning of my name. It wasn’t nearly as splendid or as interesting as I would have liked it to be. I looked up the names of a lot of my friends, and they have much more “Christian” or Biblical meanings to their names, and I started feeling a little sorry for myself … until the song “He Knows My Name” came to mind.

In the late 50’s and early 60’s, Kim was a very popular name, so there are lots of Kims around my age. When someone calls out the name “Kim” in a room full of people, several of us turn to answer the summons. But when God calls my name, I am the only one who hears and is capable of responding to His Call. Even though He calls Kim, He is speaking directly to my heart and no one elses. There is no mistaken identity. There is no confusion among the rest of the Kims in the room … My name is unique between God and me.

God knows my name. He knows yours. And when He calls my name, even though there may be a million Kims in the world, I have no doubt that He knows exactly which Kim He’s calling. He knows how many hairs are on my head. He knew me before I was formed in my mother’s womb. He knows me intimately, and better than I know myself. He ought to; He’s The Creator! How beautiful my name sounds on the lips of the Almighty! He loves me more than I could ever comprehend.

Just a little peek

2009-01-31T20:36:00.004-05:00

I’m not much of a fan of really hot or really cold weather. I really think I was born to live in Hawaii where it’s 72 degrees year-round. But I guess living in North Florida is better than South Florida where you practically swim in your own perspiration. It does get pretty hot up here though. But as much as I hate sticky, hot weather, I really despise cold, wet Florida weather. Everyone in my house is cold blooded and think they need the heat jacked up to 90 degrees when it gets cold outside.

Well, I come equipped with my own internal nuclear reactor, and don’t really need the artificial assistance of a gas heater.

But enough about my hormones.

There is one thing I really love about the winter; and that is the cold, winter sky. At night, when it’s really cold - like in the low thirties (I know, those who live up north think we’re weinees), and there are no clouds in the sky… it is then that I love to throw my head back and take in the utter magnificence of the stars strewn across the inky blackness.

I remember a science project we did when I was in elementary school. We all got a corrugated box and painted the exterior black. With some sharp instrument like an ice pick (that was back in the 60’s when kids could be trusted in school with sharp instruments and all the school rooms were painted with lead-based paint), we poked holes in the box. Some poked randomly, but most poked our holes in an astrological pattern that we copied from a paper the teacher provided.

Then the teacher put a light in the box, closed it up, turned off the classroom lights, and turned on the light inside the box. It looked so cool – like the starry sky on a clear, moonless, winter night.

Back then, it didn’t take a whole lot to impress elementary age kids.

Taking my dogs out before bedtime and then again before dawn every morning, I have plenty of opportunities to stargaze. On the first really clear, cold night of this winter, I looked up to the moonless sky. Immediately, I was transported back some forty-odd years to Mrs. Caldwell’s third grade class – I was looking at the black box again.

Some folks like to say there are windows in the floor of heaven where the current inhabitants can look down and see us. I like to think of it a little differently, even though there is no scriptural basis for any of these musings. It kinda looks to me like God has poked holes in the blackness of the night sky so that just a tiny glimpse of His Glory is visible to those who are looking for it.

We must stop often, open our eyes, ears and souls to really take in and experience the works of His Hands and appreciate it. His Glory is all around us.

In the shelter of the Most High

2009-01-27T21:38:00.004-05:00

I spotted the squirrel nest in the fork of a tall oak tree. The wind was blowing furiously and the branches were waving like crazed fans at a rock concert. In wonder, I thought again how incredibly good God is to all of His creation – including the little squirrels and birds that live in the tree tops. Although that nest looks dangerous to my eye, it’s inhabitants feel safety in the altitude, the sheltering limbs that stretch all around and cover it, and the strong foundation of the forked trunk beneath the nest. For a squirrel, it’s probably the safest place he can be.

I inhabit a similar, seemingly perilous shelter - poised high above human understanding. Unbelievers may think I’m crazy because of the trust I place in The Lord to hold me up, to sustain me and to shelter me. From their vantage point, I am sitting on a bunch of twigs and branches way up in the top of that tree that’s swaying in the wind. How can that possibly be secure, they ask?

Until you know Him, you can’t understand it either.

I can feel the safety of the altitude. My faith rests in the Most High. Even though my flesh grows clammy at the very thought of heights, this is a spiritual high that is both exhilarating and awe-inspiring.

Psalm 91 talks about this place, resting in the Most High. This is one of the most comforting passages in God’s Word.

Psalm 91 (NKJV)
1 He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High

Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

2 I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress;

My God, in Him I will trust.”

3 Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler

And from the perilous pestilence.

4 He shall cover you with His feathers,

And under His wings you shall take refuge;

His truth shall be your shield and buckler.

5 You shall not be afraid of the terror by night,

Nor of the arrow that flies by day,

6 Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness,

Nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.

7 A thousand may fall at your side,

And ten thousand at your right hand;

But it shall not come near you.

8 Only with your eyes shall you look,

And see the reward of the wicked.

9 Because you have made the LORD, who is my refuge,

Even the Most High, your dwelling place,

10 No evil shall befall you,

Nor shall any plague come near your dwelling;

11 For He shall give His angels charge over you,

To keep you in all your ways.

12 In their hands they shall bear you up,

Lest you dash your foot against a stone.

13 You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra,

The young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot.

14 “Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him;

I will set him on high, because he has known My name.

15 He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble;

I will deliver him and honor him.

16 With long life I will satisfy him,

And show him My salvation.”

When the concerns of this life have you in a tailspin, just remember Who’s holding you.

For the directionally-challenged

2009-01-15T06:00:00.000-05:00

My parents are finally retired and able to enjoy the freedom of traveling at leisure now, so they are spending a lot more time on the road in one of their vehicles. Since my mom doesn’t see a need for the likes of a computer, their household is technologically-deprived. So the navigational system in his new truck is the source of much excitement for my dad. When they visited us for Christmas, he was telling us all about how he used the GPS on their most recent road trip.

Now, anyone who has one of these techno-marvels knows that the unrealistically calm female voice that directs your travel route can get on anyone’s nerves after a while. Especially when she repeats herself … over … and over.

If you use the audible navigation system very often, then you have undoubtedly heard the message: “you are now off course. Please make a u-turn ….” Apparently this gets on my mother’s last good nerve. When she had finally heard it for the umpteenth time on that trip, she snapped “There is only ONE woman in this car who can tell you how to drive!” We all enjoyed a good belly-laugh at that one!

While we were still laughing, I thought how God must be thinking something along those lines, but He is far too much a Gentleman to point it out quite so bluntly.

He has given us a life-navigational system: The Holy Spirit.

He has given us the instruction manual: His Word.

With all the celebrities, politicians, personal trainers, life coaches, talk show hosts, and other “experts” talking at us, it might seem hard to figure out whose advice to follow.

There is only One Voice that we should be listening to on this journey of life. With all the hills and valleys, twists and turns, sideroads, shortcuts and dark alleys that we encounter, it’s so comforting to know that my Internal Navigational system is always right … I just have to tune out all the static around me and listen to Him.

John 10:4 (NLT)
After He has gathered his own flock, He walks ahead of them, and they follow Him because they know His voice.

The Bible is a compass, pointing you in the right direction.
Anonymous

A new year and a new start

2009-01-01T12:38:00.007-05:00

As most of us do on this day every year, I have made a New Years' resolution. I've adopted a commitment to learn more of God's Word, memorize it and hide it in my heart. My favorite Bible teacher, Beth Moore, has challenged her "Siestas" to commit to memorizing and meditating on 24 scriptures this year. On the 1st and 15th of every month, over 2400 people (as of this morning) who are participating in this challenge are signing on to her blog and posting our chosen scripture for all of our accountability partners to see.

For several weeks now, I've felt strongly impressed to add an element to this blog: 365 days of Fear Not. I've heard many say that there are 365 occurrences of "Fear not" (or some semblence thereof) in the Bible - one for every day of the year. While I'm sure someone else has already done this, and probably published a devotional book or calendar of these verses, I haven't run across it. Being a strong Type-A personality, my natural bent is to maintain control ... of everything. And we always fear what we cannot control. That is, until we remember that God is always in control, and we have no reason to fear. Fear is a form of disbelief - not trusting that God has His Hand on the very thing or situation that we fear. I believe the Holy Spirit is inviting me to find all the Fear Not verses and meditate on them daily. Committing to adding these scriptures to this blog will help me remain focused on this project. And train my spirit to trust and believe ... and fear not.

With the Lord's help, I will post a Fear Not verse in the upper right column of this blog every day this year.

As I was going through my Bible, praying for guidance as to which scripture to memorize first, I came upon, and kept coming back to Isaiah 43:1-4. These verses remind me of God's presence in all aspects of my life and give me comfort in times of distress. As I was posting the verse on Beth's website, I realized that it is a "Fear not" verse as well!

God is highly pleased when we put His Word in our heart. It has been said that people are like trash cans. Whenever they are tipped over, whatever is inside will come out. I am ashamed to admit that, when I am jostled by life, what spills out is not always pleasing to the Lord. This year, I want God to imprint His Words all over my heart, so that when I am tipped over, His promises, love and grace to flow forth.

Ramblings of an old chick

2008-12-22T19:49:00.002-05:00

The other day, I was Christmas shopping at my favorite store – TJMax. I found lots of great stuff on clearance … I find great satisfaction in finding dead-cheap deals! As I was checking out, the young woman who was ringing up my purchases looked at me quizzically and asked, “how old are you?” Now it’s been quite a while since I was carded, so I was taken aback. I hesitantly offered, “49?” She busied herself with the cash register as she replied, “I didn’t think you were that old.”

It was then that I remembered the public address announcement while I was shopping – “If you are shopping with us today and you are at least 55 years young, you will enjoy a 20% discount off your entire purchase!”

I looked at the cute, young thing behind the counter and asked if I could retract my answer. She laughed at me like I was a silly, addle-brained, old woman.

Perhaps there are benefits of growing older after all. Pretty soon, I will qualify for senior coffee at McDonalds and senior dinners at Cracker Barrel. AARP has already been emailing me in anticipation of sign-on day.

Really, though. My flesh rather bristled at the insinuation that I am getting old. Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the storefront glass and was brought back to the brutal reality. I am.

Statistically speaking, I’ve already lived more than half of my days here on Planet Earth. If Jesus tarries, and if I suffer no serious medical maladies or accidents, I might live another 30 or 40 years. I have become much more aware of my mortality in the past few months.

And I have also become more introspective of late, assessing where I am versus where I believe I should be. I’ve looked at those mountains that I’ve marched around and around and around… till there’s a moat encircling the base. (The contemporary phrase – “the definition of insanity is doing things the same way over and over, but expecting different results” – ought to be in the Bible somewhere, shouldn’t it?) Where have I been obstinate and where have I been obedient? Am I still pressing on the uphill journey? Or have I slid backwards? How much precious time have I wasted and twittered away? What lasting good have I accomplished through the strength of the Lord?

When my tombstone is engraved, what will be the significance of the dash between my birth and death dates?

Looking over the past 49 years, I see that I’ve spent more time running away from my God and my purpose than in pursuit thereof. And I’ve been tempted to fall into the trap of self-pity and self-loathing because of my willful sin - the same sin that He has already forgotten and buried in the depths of the sea. The more I get to know my Father, the more I come to thankfully realize that He is using every dumb thing I ever did or said, every wrong path I ever walked, every bad choice I ever made … to His glory.

At this Blessed Christmas season, I reflect on the birth of Almighty God into a frail, human body of flesh. Flesh that grew older with every day that He spent on earth. Jesus spent every day of His human life walking resolutely toward The Purpose for which He came. He suffered all the persecution, the beatings, the agony of death - and the heaping of all of the sins of mankind on His shoulders. And to think that He did all of this. Just for you and me. Oh, how I love how He loves me! Oh, I want to see Him, look upon His Face.....

And we spoke not a word as they took away our faith

2008-12-12T09:23:00.005-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, I purchased a t-shirt that I intend to wear often this month. It simply says: "Christ IS Christmas." I've already worn it shopping a couple of times and can tell when someone actually reads it. The look in their eyes is unmistakable. I just smile at them because I have plenty to smile about. I intentionally tell every store clerk I interact with "Merry Christmas!" Sometimes, but not very often, they respond in kind.

A friend sent me one of those "forward" emails this morning that I just have to share here. Perhaps it's not new and everyone else has seen it, but it's the first time I've seen it and it really struck a chord in my spirit.

Twas the month before Christmas
When all through our land,
Not a Christian was praying
Nor taking a stand.
See the PC Police had taken away
The reason for Christmas - no one could say.
The children were told by their schools not to sing
About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things.
It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say
December 25th is just a ' Holiday '.
Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit,
Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it!
CDs from Madonna, an X BOX, an I-pod,
Something was changing, something quite odd!
Retailers promoted Ramadan and Kwanzaa
In hopes to sell books by Franken & Fonda.
As Targets were hanging their trees upside down,
At Lowe's the word Christmas - was no where to be found.
At K-Mart and Staples and Penny's and Sears,
You won't hear the word Christmas; it won't touch your ears.
Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty
Are words that were used to intimidate me.
Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzen,
On Boxer, on Rather, on Kerry, on Clinton!
At the top of the Senate, there arose such a clatter
To eliminate Jesus, in all public matter.
And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith,
Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace.
The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded,
The reason for the season, stopped before it started.
So as you celebrate 'Winter Break' under your 'Dream Tree,'
Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.
Choose your words carefully, choose what you say.
Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS, not Happy Holiday !

Please, all Christians join together and wish everyone you meet during the holidays a MERRY CHRISTMAS . Christ is The Reason for the Christ-mas Season!

I believe with all my heart that we are nearing the end of this age. For years now, we have been snubbed by the world for our faith. Little by little, our freedom to express our faith is being taken away. The time may come very soon when we are openly persecuted in this nation for our faith - just like Christians in other countries. And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith, forbidden to speak of salvation and grace.

The time has come for God's people to take an unwavering stand.

So while you are standing, look up! Jesus is coming soon. How cool would it be for Him to come back for His Bride ... on His birthday?

Winner of the P31-initiated Christmas Giveaway

2008-12-08T12:50:00.004-05:00

Good morning!

I pulled up my trustly random generator program this morning and, well, we have a winner!

The winner is....................................

(use your imagination!)

Kimberly @ A Planting of the Lord!

Yaaaaay, Kimberly! Contact me at 4given at unreasonablegrace dot net with your mailing address so I can send your new Beth Moore devotional and Third Day Christmas Offering CD.

Be Blessed!

Kim

My Cool Christmas Giveaway and The Shack

2008-12-05T12:30:00.004-05:00

Thank you for visiting my spot on the web. If you came here by way of Lysa's blog, then you must want to win some free stuff! Just leave a comment and I will draw one blessed lady's name on Monday. The winner will receive the devotional book Jesus, Day by Day by my favorite Bible teacher, Siesta and mentor, Beth Moore (by the way, she doesn't know me from Adam - or Eve either) and Third Day's Christmas Offerings CD.

Thanks to Lysa for affording me the opportunity to touch your life today.

Now, on to what's on my heart and mind today.

Wednesday night, I finished the book, The Shack by William P. Young. I am still on a spiritual high 36 hours later! If you've read the book and love it like I do, then you need no explanation. If you haven't read it, I urge you to borrow or buy it soon. As a fledgling writer, I am in awe of the author's gift for storytelling.

There may be some who don't happen to like the book and may not agree with my recommendation. I've read reviews and blog-opinions that state the content isn't theologically correct. Most well-grounded students of the Word would probably agree with that statement. However, the dialog, the extraordinarily creative plot, and the well illustrated message of a simple, intimate, real relationship with The Triune God is awe-inspiring. After finishing the book, I went to the author's blog, in which he tells us that he never intended to publish this story. It was actually written for his children - so that he could illustrate how simple our relationship with God really should be. Only after his friends' persistent "persuasion," did he consider publication.

It really is a terrific read! I hope you will enjoy it.

Be Blessed!

Off the hook

2008-11-19T12:30:00.000-05:00

This morning, I found myself – once again – praying for God to make a specific thing happen. Catching myself, I apologized for being selfish. And started over again. This time, I reminded God what I really wanted, but then turned it back over to Him: “but You truly know what is best Lord, and I pray that Your will be done in this. And if the answer isn’t what I want or expect, then give me the grace to accept that it is for my good.”

So many times we pray out of our desperation, begging God to answer a prayer a certain way. But have you ever prayed for something, yet sensed that you just might be praying for something that is not God’s Will? Have you ever had a check in your spirit that makes you unsure if God would really choose to answer this prayer your way?

I’ve prayed for certain outcomes in some rather big deals in my life: jobs, relationships, and purchases. I’ve prayed for the Holy Spirit to move on certain people for a specific response. Sometimes those prayers were answered directly. Sometimes they were answered indirectly – not in the way or timeframe that I would have liked, but with the eventual outcome that I hoped for. But a good many times, they weren’t answered at all – that I could tell.

As I grow a little more each day in the Lord, I am chagrined to look back at most of those requests. How could I have asked for such things? Selfish desires, immature demands, short-sighted appeals! Good thing He didn’t answer them, or I’d be in a real mess right now! Or rather, I just assumed He didn’t answer. The reality: His intentional silence on the matter is my answer. He always answers my prayers – but not always with the response I was waiting for.

When a friend recently requested prayer for a dying loved one, she initially asked that God would heal and restore. As the patient continued a down-hill spiral, she started questioning whether to continue to pray for healing. She was torn because she loved her sister and wanted her to be healed, but increasingly felt burdened that God just might be telling her no. She finally started praying only for God’s perfect Will.

When you really think about it, praying for God’s perfect Will is like being let off the hook for what to pray for.

Jesus gave us an “out” when praying in the Garden of Gethsemene. Not just once, but twice He prayed “My Father! If it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me. Yet I want your will, not mine.” “My Father, If this cup cannot be taken away until I drink it, your will be done.” Matthew 26:39, 42 NLT

Jesus expressed the desires of His flesh. His humanity did not want to experience the intense suffering required of this sacrifice. But He ultimately drew on the strength of the Father and the Holy Spirit to submit to the perfect Will of God, no matter what the outcome.

I guess I’m in pretty good company here. I feel closer to my Savior somehow, by knowing His flesh wanted to find a way out, too. He really has experienced everything, been tempted in every possible way that we can be. I have been unintentionally imitating Jesus’ prayer. I’ve begun rephrasing my prayers so that I let God know what I would really like, but also let Him know that I will trust that His is the perfect answer. And I know that being in the center of His perfect Will for my life is the safest possible place I can be.

So They Will Know

2008-11-14T09:46:00.001-05:00

I meditated on Psalm 48 during my quiet time this morning. In this passage, the descendents of Korah are singing about how mighty and great is the Lord. They magnify His creation, the city of God, Jerusalem and how the entire world stands in awe of it. They tell how God, Himself, is inhabits the towers of Jerusalem and shows Himself to be the defender of the great city. They recount how mighty kings and armies have advanced on this city, only to turn tail and run away in utter terror. They talk about having heard of the glory, but now that they have seen it for themselves, it is so much more real to them.

As I read the last few verses over and over, a realization came over me: this word is for our generation – now. Before it is too late for us to do the same.

Go, inspect the city of Jerusalem. Walk around and count the many towers. Take note of the fortified walls, and tour all the citadels, that you may describe them to future generations. For that is what God is like. He is our God forever and ever, and he will be our guide until we die. (Psalm 48: 12-14, NLT)

Generations before us have witnessed nationwide revivals and spiritual awakenings and they have passed those recollections down to us in print and by mouth. My generation has seen the mighty, protective Hand of the Lord work in many ways, both on an individual level and world-wide.

But as we approach the very last days of this age, the enemy is stronger and more active than ever. He is in a frenzy to keep as many humans from the Cross … and attempt to incapacitate those who have already been there.

As the global culture shifts farther and farther away from worship of The One True God, our children and grandchildren are having difficulty grasping why we cling to our “religion”. They are captivated by the bright lights and the lure of instant self-gratification. They are gonna be wealthy, popular bigshots! “What does God have to offer that can compete with that?” they scoff.

How will they know if we don’t tell them?

I have been guilty of not bragging on God to our children and the younger generations. They need to hear how awesome and real God has been to me. If they hear it enough, they will believe it and fall back on His promises at some point in their lives - and experience it for themselves.

This voice from thousands of years ago brought this home to me this morning. The psalmist exhorts me to examine all the works of God that I have seen and heard. Know them inside and out. Memorize every aspect of them. Never forget how He saved me, reached down into the pit of filth and plucked me out of it. How He rescued me countless times from the jaws of the roaring lion. How He blessed me in times of desperate need. How He comforted me in times of terrible loss. How He drew near to me when I drew near to Him, allowing me to feel His presence in such an intimate way. But this collection of memories must not be kept safely tucked away in my mind. They are a testimony to the powerful, miraculous, perfect love of God. And they must be recounted to future generations. So they will know … that this is what God is like.

election day jitters

2008-11-04T14:09:00.002-05:00

I don't know about you, but I've been relentlessly praying for the past few weeks about this election. I KNOW that God is in control and that nothing will happen that it not first filtered through His Hands. But sometimes it's easy to be distracted by "what if?"

Well. Let me just tell you! I just read the most incredible encouragement that made me want to shout Hallelujah! at the top of my lungs.

If you find yourself reading this today (election day) or any day after and are concerned about the direction in this country's leadership, please visit Beth Moore's blog at: http://livingproofministries.blogspot.com/2008/11/psalm-11824.html.

This is strong Word that gave my faith new strength today.

Trusting God for all of our tomorrows...

Sweet Sounds

2008-10-27T15:06:00.003-04:00

The sound of the rushing creek lulled me to sleep at night and was the first sound I heard when I opened my eyes again. I needed to get up and start the coffee, but instead just laid there with my eyes closed listening to one of the most soothing sounds I’ve ever heard. How I wished I could take that creek back to Florida with me when our vacation in western North Carolina was over.

The babbling, trout-stocked creek was right outside the front door of the cabin that we rented for a week. I was infatuated with the beauty of the lush foliage, the pure mountain water running downstream, the relaxing sound of the water rushing over the rocks. I sat at the picnic table next to the creek for long periods of time with no other objective than to relax my body and mind. I would take a book or my laptop, but rarely opened either. The inspiration was just too beautiful to interrupt, so I just snapped pictures in my mind and filed them away for recall later.

I watched as the water dashed downstream from the mountain top, tumbling over the rocks and tree branches that hung low. The beautiful sound was the result of water rushing over those rocks and branches. But when I observed the water at the deepest points in the stream bed that were devoid of rocks, I realized how quiet, peaceful and smooth it appeared.

I thought about those obstacles – the rocks and branches - in the stream bed that created the beautiful sound. They stand in the way of the rushing water, but the water doesn’t stop. It may slow slightly, but it’s going to continue to move forward. As the water goes over or around the rocks, the sound of the rushing water increases dramatically. Confronted with obstacles, the water continues to move forward, yet creates a beautiful symphony as it cascades over the rocks.

I was humbled to compare my walk with Christ to that simple mountain stream. When things are going well, the water in my soul runs smooth and deep. But when obstacles appear on the horizon, I try to avoid or ignore them. Neither approach works very well because eventually I am going to come face to face with that difficult situation. I may not be able to change the situation, but I am capable of controlling my emotions and my tongue. What will my encounter with trial and testing sound like? Will it be a discordant cacophony or a beautiful melody? Will it be complaints … or praise?

If the Lord inhabits the praises of His people, that means He comes near to us when we praise Him. If I complain and whine about the difficulty, I am pushing Him away with my lack of faith and trust.

Once that thought worked its way through my heart, the choice in my response to difficulty become starkly clear.

May the sound that leaves my lips – in good times and in bad – be a loud, joyous praise that is a sweet sound in my Father’s ear.

Inside my bubble

2008-10-17T13:04:00.004-04:00

As a kid, one of my favorite cartoons was The Jetsons. George, Jane, Judy and Elroy. And don’t forget Astro, the family dog. You remember that futuristic family who had a robot for a maid, don't you? They didn’t walk on their sidewalks. Instead, sidewalks transported them to their destination. Judy’s high school floated on a platform in space and Elroy was dropped off at school on another planet every morning. And everyone had these little flying pods that looked like bubbles. They flew around in the sky like birds inside those little bubbles.

Welcome to the future. Kind of.

For the past 4½ years, I’ve driven the same roads at the same time every day on my way to work … in a bubble. Lost in thought or prayer or song, I will suddenly become very aware of where I am and realize that I don’t even remember the last few miles of road. The familiar has become a distant buzz in the background of my mind.

A few weeks ago, I noticed … I mean really noticed … something that I have driven past every morning for years: a group of kids that gather at their bus stop on the sidewalk of a busy four lane highway. The same kids, the same bus stop, year after year. As I sat in the bottlenecked traffic, I looked at each kid’s face. Startled, I realized how much they’ve changed with every passing year. In their interaction with each other, I recognized their distinct little personalities. The older kids are acting like they are way too cool to pay attention to the younger ones. The younger kids are trying their best to annoy the older ones, be-bopping around, acting silly, without any apparent concern for how they appeared to the strangers occupying the cars idling nearby. They talk, laugh, run, sit, frolic and stand in their little bubble, seemingly oblivious to the four lanes of traffic that flood by at rush hour. How long had I driven past them every morning, seeing them, but not really seeing them? Oblivious … inside my bubble.

Turning the corner off that four laner to a two lane road that passes through neighborhoods near a high school, the pace slows somewhat. Many people use the sidewalks on this road for their morning walk. Couples, young adults, folks walking their dogs, kids walking to school. There is a particular elderly woman who walks this road nearly every morning. She has a peculiar gait which first attracted my attention. And she always walks alone. The purpose in her stride and determined expression on her face touched my heart. I began to wonder about her. What’s her story? One morning, I had the distinct impression to pray for her. In my conversation with God, I gave her a name – I call her Ethel. Now every morning when I see her, I pray for Ethel. There are some mornings that I don’t see her at all which prompts me to pray for her all the more.

I have no idea why, but the Holy Spirit wants me to pierce Ethel’s bubble of existence and enter into her life, unbeknownst to her. I’ve begun praying for those kids at the bus stop, too.

We are all in our own little bubbles. Comfortable bubbles. Some of us exist almost exclusively within our own bubble and can’t be bothered to notice anything outside that doesn’t directly affect or threaten us. But since God has called His own to go into all the world and tell them the Good News, we can’t withdraw into those bubbles without offending Him. We weren’t saved from an eternity without Christ to live our safe, comfortable little lives inside our own little cocoon. We are the hands and feet of Christ. That's not just an expression. Feet go. Hands do.

Who are we passing by and overlooking every day - because they have just blended into the familiar background?

It’s time to break the bubble.

Camp Meeting in Heaven

2008-10-04T21:20:00.001-04:00

Psalm 19:1 The heavens tell of the glory of God. The skies display his marvelous craftsmanship.
Psalm 97:6 The heavens declare his righteousness; every nation sees his glory.

For those who live in Florida, lightning and thunderstorms are a normal part of life. Indeed, if we go through a single summer day without the usual afternoon thunderstorm, it is noteworthy.

I live in a rural area of the county where there are few lights to interfere with my view of a velvety, midnight sky strewn with glittering diamonds. When there are no clouds or visible moon, it is a wondrous sight to behold. Just standing in the middle of the property with my head thrown back, taking in the massiveness of the universe’s star-encrusted blanket … there is nothing else like it for reminding me of just how small I am and just how huge God is.

However … there is a very different night sky that equally fascinates me and makes me anticipate Heaven unlike anything else.

It all begins with flashes of light in the sky, as though someone were taking flash pictures behind the thunderhead. First, there will be a flash of light backlighting a cloud to the south. A second later, a multi-legged jagged lightening bolt sprays out from one cloud to another on the north. The flashing lights continue to call and answer each other for nearly an hour. At first, there is practically no thunder to be heard. Soon, cloud-to-cloud lightning begins: slowly at first, then increasing with strength, length and frequency and escorting in the sounds of deep thunder rolling through the clouds. I find myself captivated by the grandiose sight and unable to move.

The camp meeting in Heaven is seriously cranking up.

I imagine a huge gathering in heaven with the saints and angels singing praises to The King. I’m talking about an old-fashioned summertime camp meeting – where there is shouting and singing a the top of your lungs, stomping and dancing before the Lord. Just imagine this with me for a moment. Imagine an amazing worship service taking place on the floor above you. You can feel the rumbling of the foot-stompin’. And you can hear the voices crying out in worship and adoration to the Lord. Doesn’t it make you wish you were there?

We exist in this temporary body on the first floor of creation. Above us, there is an unending, all-out worship service going on, whether or not we are immediately aware of it. Maybe it’s those nights that God is just letting me get a tiny glimpse of what’s to come. When He sees me watching the night sky, maybe He draws back the veil just enough to let the incredible lights and sounds of heaven escape for mortal eyes to see. Sometimes living can obscure our view of eternity, and He knows that. So He opens the windows of heaven every once in a while to remind us of what’s waiting for us.

Number One Fan

2008-09-27T23:59:00.000-04:00

In disbelief, I sat and watched my beloved Florida Gators lose a game to an unranked, but nonetheless worthy opponent.

There are many fans who will viciously turn on their team after such a loss. We affectionately call them “fair weather fans”. There are those who will rant and rave and mope about in depression for the next week. There are some who will get on chat rooms, radio and television shows and blast the coaches and players for today’s game.

Humans can be so fickle! We tend to swap allegiances at the turn of the wind. There is no more commitment … to a team, an employer, a friend, or even a spouse.

Am I still a fan? Or am I a fair weather fan?

I am still a fan. I still wear orange and blue, have Gator memorabilia on my car, in my house, on my desk. I’m not happy about their apathetic performance today, but I’ll get over it. I am embarrassed to admit that, in the past, I have been one of those fans that left the stadium early when we were getting beat up on the field.

You and I have a Number One Fan that will not leave the stadium early in the fourth quarter when we are getting soundly beaten by life. He doesn’t stay mad at us for the next week until we have an opportunity to redeem ourselves. He does not armchair quarterback, even though He is certainly qualified! Not only can His allegiance not be swayed when we fall, but He still has us in the palm of His Hand. He never lets go. When we fall short, He’s our Number One Cheerleader, encouraging us, reminding us of His unending love for us, regardless of how often or badly we stumble. Our lackluster performance doesn’t deter Him from His pursuit of an intimate relationship with us.

My Number One Fan watches my every step, hears my every word and thought, sees everything I see. He watches over me with unfathomable care and concern. He cheers me on every time I stumble and fall. He sings over me when I rest contentedly in Him. When I’m sick, He ministers to me. When I’m hurting emotionally, He soothes my heart. When I am petulant or rebellious, He gently reminds me that He still loves me … unconditionally.

It matters not whether I perform perfectly today. He still loves me like crazy and will never let me go. No matter whether I am at the top of my game today or in serious need of practice, He is still right beside me, encouraging me like no other. What patience! What love!

He even wrote the most beautiful love letter – just for me! In it, He tells me the most amazing, sweetest things. 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. I watched over you as you were being formed in utter seclusion, as you were woven together in the dark of the womb. Every day of your life is recorded in My book. Every moment of your life was laid out before the beginning of time. My thoughts about you are precious! They are innumerable! You couldn’t even count them, they outnumber the grains of sand! My lovingkindness will never be taken from you. My faithfulness will never fail you. I love you with an everlasting love. I shower tender mercies on you. I bought your salvation with the Blood of My only, perfect Son. I have pursued you relentlessly. I am full of compassion, and graciousness, longsuffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth. I will be merciful to your unrighteousness and I will cast your sins in the bottom of the ocean and will remember them no more. I even know the number of hairs on your head at any given second of the day!

How’s THAT for a Number One Fan?

I’ll bet no one else knows the number of hairs on Tim Tebow’s head.

Little Promptings can open BIG doors…

2008-09-20T10:11:00.001-04:00

Driving to a lunch appointment one day this week, looking in my rearview mirror, I noticed the little heating elements in the back window again. My new-to-me car still had a few things I hadn’t figured out yet and needed to actually read the manual. (Sounds like a man, huh?) The thought entered my mind to get the owner’s manual out of the glove box. I had been meaning to look at that manual for some time now. But since I was driving down the road at the time (just like every other time I’d thought about the manual), I thought I’d just do it later (just like every other time I’d thought about the manual). When I stopped at a traffic light, the impression came to me again. I thought “the light is going to change soon, I’ll just do it later.” The light changed and two cars made it through the intersection before it changed again … and I was about eight cars back. Apparently I would be sitting for a few minutes. Again, and much stronger, the impression came to open the glove box and get the owners’ manual -- so strong, that I became frustrated that the thought wouldn’t go away. I reached over and opened the glove box. When the door dropped down, I burst out in thankful laughter and relief.

Rewind to a couple of days ago when I opened my file drawer to pull out the nightly backup cartridges for the office network servers. The ones that were scheduled to be used that night were not in the drawer. I searched my desk and the rest of my office, even going out to look in my car to see if they had fallen from my briefcase earlier in the week. Not there. I used another set of cartridges for that night and reminded myself to look on my desk at home for the cartridges. But at home that night, they were nowhere to be found. The next day I retraced my steps all over 6000 square feet of office space to find the tapes – undoubtedly left laying somewhere. Now I was becoming uneasy. Those cartridges are extremely expensive and contain valuable, confidential information. So I prayed for God to show me where the cartridges were. I forgot about it until the next morning when I went to switch cartridges again, remembered my dilemma and prayed again for the Holy Spirit to show me where to look or to bring it to my remembrance. In an hour or so, I left for my lunch appointment.

When I dropped the door open on the glove box and saw those cartridges – precisely where I had put them last week – I was at once relieved, joyful, a little embarrassed, and repentant. Belatedly, I recognized the voice of the Holy Spirit speaking to me to open the glove box. It wasn’t some erratic thought from my own mind. I had to apologize to God for pushing away the impression. His Impression.

The only time I was ever concerned about figuring out how to turn on the rear-window defogger was early in my morning drive. I would always promise myself that I would get the owners manual out when I got to work and figure out where the switch is. By the time I got to work, the fog was gone and so was any thought of the owner’s manual. So, driving down the street at noon on a sunny day, it was very untypical for my mind to race to the mystery of the defogger switch.

Looking back over my life, there are SO many times that I’ve had an impression or urge that was so out of character, time or place that it couldn’t be me. If I followed that impression, I can always look back and see that it was the voice of the Holy Spirit. Unfortunately, there are too many times that I pushed aside that prompting … and ended up in a bad situation.

In the past few years of my renewed walk with the Lord, I’ve learned that it’s ok to pray about the seemingly little things … like finding misplaced tape cartridges and car keys, like “healing” a corrupt hard drive that contained all my wedding pictures (that were not backed up!), like my lost dog coming home when I thought all hope was gone. I’ve experienced first hand that what is important to me is also important to Him. And He shows it by answering my prayers – if I pay attention to the nudging in my spirit.

When we get those little promptings … whether it is to smile at that sad stranger that you pass on the sidewalk, send a no-special-occasion card to a friend who’s suddenly on your mind, take a meal to a shut-in, or turn down a street that you don’t normally drive down … consider that it could be the Holy Spirit. Sometimes the results of following that prompt will surprise us!

A Prodigal Daughter’s Return

2008-07-16T00:01:00.000-04:00

Dragging Jesus’ name through the mud with right along with me, my fall from the faith spiraled quickly down into the cesspools of depravity. Raised in a Christian home by godly parents, saved at age ten, entrenched in church activities until I left home as a young adult, I had a strong foundation in The Word. Most of what I learned in church was religion … what you can and can’t do. As a child and teenager, I wasn’t emotionally or spiritually mature enough to understand on my own that it’s not about the law. It’s about relationship: an intimate, personal relationship with my Savior. What I needed poured into me was: if I truly LOVE my Lord, I will keep His commandments because of that love. Not because of fear. Not just for the “fire insurance.”

The downward spiral took hold in my mid-twenties. Although, at the time, I blamed my former husband for my lack of church attendance, I am and always have been a strong-willed person, so I can only allow the true blame to rest, deservedly, at my own feet. I allowed pride to become my god. I listened to the enemy and began to believe his lies. My marriage began to fall apart. When my marriage ended after nearly twenty years, at the age of 37, I willingly jumped head first into Satan’s den. Because of all the emotional scars I carried from a failed marriage, he told me that I deserved to do whatever I wanted, whatever made me feel good. I needed fun and love, he told me. So I followed the enemy like a little puppy out into the world to find fun and love. What I ended up with was self-esteem so low that I was willing to do almost anything to be accepted by anybody.

Satan broke me until I was his slave. I woke up every morning, anticipating the next party, the next opportunity to let alcohol cloud my mind and allow me to forget my troubles, my pain. I was deep in sin, all the while knowing full well how wrong it was. Along the way, I would feel conviction. To stop it, I tried to never be alone. Satan had supplied me with enough friends to ensure that I always had something to do, somewhere to go, so that I wouldn’t be alone with the Holy Spirit for very long. Those “friends” were my escape from God. I wondered how I always managed to not end up in jail, how I managed to escape physical injury or disease. Now, looking back, I can clearly see God’s Hand covering me. No doubt, He covered me with His Hand to protect me. And probably so He wouldn’t have to look at me and see the filth I was living in.

When I met my husband at the age of 40, I was so far away from God that, when Craig mentioned taking me to “his church”, I was adamant that I wasn’t going. Organized religion did nothing for me, I said. Even though neither of us was in God’s Will, or anywhere near it for that matter, He still orchestrated events that would eventually pull us together and pull us to Him.

Now that I have fully surrendered my life to the Lord, I look back over the last decade with amazement. Why would God allow me to drag His Name through the mud? Why was He always with me in those bars, in those situations that clearly caused Him anguish? Why didn’t He just allow me to die in the muck that I was wallowing in?
Every day now, it becomes clearer to me that this is the time of the final harvest. Jesus is calling His Bride to a higher state of readiness, asking that we work overtime in the trenches, demanding that we live as ambassadors of another Land. He gave me talents, skills and gifts that He does not want to go to waste. There is something that He wants me to do before taking me Home. That’s why He allowed me to stray so far away, yet provide the forgiveness and grace and allow me to come back to Him. I am so glad that my Heavenly Father is a soft-hearted Father … that His grace, His mercy is unreasonably given to a bunch of selfish, arrogant, pitiful creatures called humans … creatures that He lovingly hand-crafted from the dust to be His cherished children.

I know that there are many women who have testimonies of living for the Lord for their entire lives. They have such an aura of peace and Christ-likeness about them. I realize too, that they are sinners saved by Grace, just as I am. But I wonder if I feel a somewhat different kind of gratitude to the Lord for delivering me. You see, I knew the True Way, yet I walked through all the filth and sin of my own accord. I allowed my pride and self-preservation to be my god. The sin in my past is heinous. There are things I’ve done that I wouldn’t utter aloud to anyone. And the worst part of it is that I was raised to know Him from infancy. I knew the Truth and walked away from Him. But He took me back anyway. He wanted me back anyway. And He caused my sin to be buried beneath the depths of the deepest sea, as far away as the east is from the west. He said He will remember it no more. I borrowed/adopted a phrase from Beth Moore to describe what Jesus shows me: “Unreasonable Grace.”

When you’ve been at the bottom of the cesspool and God’s Hand reached down and plucked you out of it, I believe there can be a stronger appreciation for His forgiveness and mercy. I may not have been able to fully appreciate His mercy without nearly drowning in that pit. Perhaps that is the most important reason for His permissive Will.

Coming Down From The Mountain

2008-07-14T00:01:00.000-04:00

Just back from a week vacation in Western North Carolina -- truly God's country. We have fallen in love with the area and have a rather loose goal of purchasing property there for a retirement home.

We are refreshed from our sojourn into the Smokey Mountains, away from the hubbub of suburban life. We did nothing of significance the entire week which was, after all, the point. It's difficult to re-acclimate to getting up before dawn and eating breakfast before 10am. Or at all, for that matter.

Being a cautious person by nature, I surprised myself by doing a couple of things out of character during our trip. We visited Maggie Valley's Ghost Town in the Sky. Years ago, you could ride the skylift up and down or take the train. Being afraid of heights, I wanted to take the train and was ready to send Craig up on the skylift by himself. But alas, the train and tracks were being repaired. So I closed my eyes a lot, prayed a lot more, and managed to make the ride without embarrassing myself too badly.

We were staying just a few minutes away from the Tuckasegee River and thought it would be fun to take a kayak run. It didn't look all that difficult and the water was fairly shallow -- after all, I could see the rocks above the water in places. Should have been a clue, huh? Never been white-water rafting and had no idea what I was doing. The first set of "rapids" that we hit was the bunny-slope, so a false sense of calm settled in. I had no idea that we would hit increasingly rough rapids every five minutes of the two hour float. Let's just say my prayer life accelerated.

After Craig flipped his duckie, I started thinking that I had this whole thing figured out. I had gotten stuck on a few rocks, but managed to wiggle free without too much effort. Well, it didn't take long for me to meet the "humbling rock". Over and out I went. Immediately I assumed the position that I had been taught in our pre-float instruction: face up, on your back, feet downstream. Grabbing the front of my duckie (I lost the paddle, some nice stranger took pity on me and retrieved it for me), I floated until we cleared the rapids and I could stand up and reboard. Fortunately, nothing was broken. My pride was a little ruffled, however. It just so happens that about a million boy and girl scout troops were on the river at the same time. I didn't see one single kid in the water. They were all safely on their boats. Hmmmmm.

I also discovered another way to increase and enhance my prayer life. We innocently went property-hunting, following directions from a local realtor. It only took one trip up and around the side of a mountain on a rutted path at what I'm sure was a 40% incline. These paths were undoubtedly intended for mules and goats only, certainly not human-occupied SUVs. Then it got worse. We had to turn around at the top of the mountain in the space of a postage stamp, and go back doooooooown. I was praying so loud that I didn't even hear Craig praying out loud. Good thing I didn't hear him or I would have begged to get out and walk down.

But one thing about that top-of-the-mountain experience stands out for me: (as I backed up to the farthest place possible from the shear drop-off) the majestic beauty of the Hand of God. The cool, clear air. The absolute peace and silence, only interrupted by the occasional call of a bird of prey.

We crave spiritual mountain-top experiences. The moments when we feel the power and presence of God so completely that we expect to look up and see Him standing there. The moments when we are left flat on our face before the Creator of the universe, in awe that He would want to be so intimate with a sin-infested sack of dust.

Going up the mountain is fraught with obstacles and full of danger. It takes perseverance and a lot of plain old guts to make the journey up. The enemy doesn't want us to even make it to the top, because he knows it will only strengthen us. But we are rewarded with the Glory of God once we reach the pinnacle.

Coming down off the mountain, leaving behind the glorious visions and impressions, there is reluctance, and joy, in our steps. But we have to come down from the mountain. We are still in this world and must continue our mission to bring Christ to the lost.

Remember how Moses' countenance shone with the Glory of God after He met with the Lord on the mountaintop? But when he came down, it was back to those grumbling, cantankerous Israelites. He couldn't even bask in the heavenly glow very long before the enemy stole his joy.

We must beware when we get to the bottom of the mountain. It's back to the same old enemy, whispering in our ear, placing stumbling blocks in our path, trying to steal our joy. My weapon is to recall the wonderful memories from the top of the mountain and to look forward to the next one with such anticipation and joy that I tune out the static. Those experiences are REAL and only a foretaste of what we'll find in heaven.

Favor and increase

2008-05-18T19:50:00.003-04:00

Another praise report for Christ Central Alachua! On our third Sunday under Pastor Mark, we had 129 in attendance at services this morning! But the best part of the day is .... there were TWO salvations! THAT is what we are here for!

What I truly admire about this congregation is that there are no spectators. Virtually every member wants to be an integral part and have volunteered to serve in some capacity rather than just come, sit, receive and leave. And they are HUNGRY for more. And when we are hungry for more of God, He is so generous to oblige.

Pastor Mark continued on with the theme of "worry" from last week and spoke about remaining positive under pressure. I had to tuck my toes as he reminded us that cultivating prayer, patience (ouch!) and our perspective will help us keep a positive attitude in this walk -- which is what the world needs to see in us ... in me. The "woe is me" approach doesn't testify of a Great God to an unbeliever. If we can't stay calm and at peace in the midst of the stress or storm, what kind of trust do we demonstrate in a God that we are preaching to a lost and dying world?

Throughout His Word, God tells us to fear not. He is in control, not me. When I worry and stress, I am essentially saying to God, "Thanks, but I can handle this one on my own." That's a rather arrogant attitude to have before the Creator of all things, wouldn't you say?

When I handle something on my own, it never turns out right. But when I relinquish the reins to my Lord, He takes my pitiful attempts and somehow turns them into something worthy.

Mark's closing comments make for a good sign to put on my desk:

Just follow the instructions. (The Word)
God will take care of the obstructions.

Leaving a Legacy

2008-05-12T21:11:00.005-04:00

A gospel music legend graduated to heaven early Mother's Day, 2008. Dottie Rambo died in an accident on her way to sing at a church service in Texas.

At this point in my life, my musical tastes lean toward praise and worship, contemporary Christian and some new gospel. But my roots run deep in Southern Gospel.

My dear friend, Tiffany, who shares my southern gospel roots, called to tell me the news. It was so ironic - check that, it was a God-thing -- that only 2 months ago Tiffany had the opportunity to meet and talk with Dottie when her tour came through our area. Meeting and talking to Dottie was something that Tiffany had on her life experience wish list. I think it's pretty cool that God let Tiff check that one off her list.

After the call, my mind drifted back to my childhood. My mother was sitting at the piano and I was standing behind her and we were singing. She had just finished writing out the lyrics and chords for the next Dottie Rambo song that we were going to sing on Sunday. We had listened to the record over and over until we had every word memorized and knew the songs backward and forward. We practiced all week long in preparation for the Sunday service. Over the years, I think we must have sang almost every Rambo song published.

As a young teenager, I remember looking wide-eyed at Dottie and Reba Rambo's pictures, listening to their music, and wanting to grow up and be just like them. But that was so many years ago, and those thoughts and memories hadn't really run through my mind much in the intervening years. So it was nice to rehash those memories again, in honor of Dottie.

Dottie. I talk like I knew her, don't I? Well, I think that I DID know her, in a way. I knew her heart and her love for Jesus through the music she wrote ... the music I sang. While here on earth, she could not possibly have known of all the little girls that sang her songs at the piano with their mothers, all the little girls who wanted the big hair-dos and the guitars, and the sheet music with their names at the top as songwriter. But now that she's in heaven, I'm sure she's hearing the stories and it must humble her to learn of the far-reaching impact her life had on people -- little girls -- that she never heard of.

As I considered how she impressed me as a youngster, I grew uncomfortable as the thought entered my mind ... who is watching me now? What does that little girl see? If she wants to be just like me when she grows up, is that a good thing? Or a bad thing? Will she talk like she knew me when I precede her into Eternity?

What kind of legacy will I leave?

In the past few years, I've tried to think about the things that I do by asking myself this question: Will this matter or make a difference in 5 years? 10 years? I think I better start asking myself that question a lot more often.

A little perspective adjustment

2008-04-27T20:14:00.003-04:00

This morning I awoke full of anticipation of the wonderful things God was to show us today. This is the first day of the re-establishment of Christ Central Alachua and we have been looking forward to this day with much joy.

You know how you just know that the enemy is going to attack you when you are in God's Will ... but you are still caught off guard? Well, this is one of those times. About half way through our morning preparation for church, the electricity went off. Not just a blip. Not even just a few minutes. I was standing there with my hair still wet, my clothes not yet ironed, trying not to panic. My husband, the stalwart man of faith that he is, chided me for allowing the enemy to get to me. Until he couldn't find his belt. If I weren't already chagrined at my own lack of spirituality, it might have been tempting to chuckle at the sudden loss of his.

Plan B it is then. After regrouping, we made it out the door for church on time.

With nearly 90 in attendance, the service was awesome, culminating in at least one salvation! The sweet people of the church have been through some difficult times in the past few months, but the Lord heard their cry and has brought them a new pastor with a new vision. Next week, we move to the middle school auditorium for our Sunday services.

This afternoon, when my husband was moving some equipment for his job, I got a frantic call from him - he had been in an accident. He assured me he was alright, but someone in the other car had a broken arm. Begging the Holy Spirit to calm me, I really tried to drive cautiously to the site of the accident. Both vehicles appeared to be totaled. The ambulance was leaving the scene with the other vehicles' occupants inside. Craig was shaken, but physically unharmed. He kept to himself mostly, very introspective. We drove home in silence. I beseeched God to heal the injured people and intervene in this entire mess.

Craig has spent the last few hours struggling with the "why" of it all. We are stepping out in faith, doing what God has called us to do. Now this. Right on the heels of victory, there is a vicious attack and an apparent defeat. We understand that the enemy isn't particularly happy with our obedience to God, and that he isn't going to leave us alone. But why did God allow this to happen? I encouraged Craig and prayed for him, trying to believe for myself the very words I was speaking.

Standing at the sink, washing dishes, I was asking God to help me understand "why". We are in covenant with You, Lord. We are doing what you asked us to do. Why this, why now, why us? I stopped cold as I felt God speak to my heart - "Don't you understand? I spared his life today." The Holy Spirit then revealed to me that all the physical attacks over the past few years have been on Craig, individually and intentionally. Not our family, not me, not the kids. On Craig. God has anointed Craig to do something for His Kingdom, and the enemy is fighting tooth and nail to take him out.

How ungrateful I felt as I ran to tell Craig! We prayed and cried and rejoiced in God's preserving Hand. In an instant, our perspective changed from human to divine. Rather than feeling sorry for ourselves and questioning our lot in life, we are humbled and awed that God would use such fragile, wretched creatures. He doesn't have to, you know ... use us, I mean. He can do it all without any help from us. But He wants to involve us. And that still amazes me.

Just point me toward home...

2008-04-21T12:33:00.016-04:00

The mostly rural area in which I live constantly delights the wildlife lover in me. On the property, I've seen huge families of wild turkeys with lots of bitty babies, many deer and several foxes.

On Saturday, I was privileged to experience something new. Sitting at the computer that morning, something snagged my attention outside the sliding glass door beside me. I turned to see the back half of what appeared to be a scrawny kitten disappear around the corner of the house. It just didn't look quite right. On a hunch, I grabbed the camera and ran to the kitchen door.

Slowly opening the door, my eyes widened in amazement at the sight before me. There, about fifteen feet from my door, heading toward the back of the property, was a baby fox. From his slow and unsteady gate, he appeared to be sick or exhausted. I looked beyond the baby fox about 20 yards and saw that Mama Fox was watching Baby and me. Afraid to move, I positioned the camera to capture what I could before they could run off. As I raised the camera, I saw Daddy Fox come racing from the side of the house toward Mama Fox. They both stopped and watched me. Baby Fox was stumbling and looked as though he would drop in his tracks at any moment. I knew Mama and Daddy Fox wouldn't come that close to the house after they had seen me, so I knew that I had to herd Baby Fox back to his family's den.

So I walked slowly a few yards behind him, constantly checking my position to steer him in the direction of the den, which is about 100 yards off the back of our house. Mama and Daddy Fox were frantically trying to lure me away from their baby even though I kept assuring them that I was helping them. But they didn't seem to understand me! ;)

As I neared the den, I saw several of Baby's siblings hanging out on the top of the den, watching me approach them. I'm not sure who was more fascinated - them or me! After about fifteen minutes of slowly herding Baby Fox, with his head hanging and his little tail drooping, he joined them on the top of the den. Some of the pups were frightened enough at this point to go inside, but a couple of them stood their ground and warily stared me down. I stood twenty feet from the door of the den and watched them, clicking the shutter as long as I dared before walking slowly back to the house. Mama and Daddy Fox had long since hidden themselves and were no doubt watching in despair from the brush.

I figure that Baby Fox must have ventured out of his den in search of a little adventure. Somehow he had ended up toward the front of the property, and Mama and Daddy had found him and were trying to get him to follow them back home. The little tyke probably hadn't ever been more than 5 feet from the door of his den and surely wasn't prepared for what he would encounter outside the arm of parental protection.

The animal lover in me wanted to pick up this precious little pup and cuddle it and take it back to it's den.

Instead, I just pointed him back home.

We have a Shepherd that will leave the 99 to find the lost one and bring him home. Like those frantic fox parents, who left the other four babies in the safety of the den and went out to find the wandering child and bring him home, Christ chases after His lost lambs. He relentlessly pursues us throughout our lives until He finds us.

Many times, we as Christians encounter a Brother or Sister who is wandering down a path that leads to destruction. We have a responsibility to point them home. We are, indeed, our brother's keeper. We cannot pick them up and take them home. That's not our job. Ours is to love them, guide them, pray for and with them, and herd them if necessary. Ultimately it's God's responsibility to take them all the way Home.

I had to find the binoculars and keep them posted by the kitchen door so that I could keep tabs on my new babies. Yesterday, I watched Mama and Daddy Fox bringing dinner home for the pups. And I just grin from ear to ear -- all their babies are home!

Invitation to Adventure...

2008-04-16T12:51:00.005-04:00

When I sat down with my most recent issue of Discipleship Journal and read the cover - Invitation to Adventure: What happens when we say yes to God - I had no idea what God was preparing me for.

My church home for the past seven years is the sanctuary of my life. I live for the next service - for the soul refreshing that I receive when I worship with my Family, for the Word that is rightly divided, for the fuel that my soul desires and needs. My husband has received offers of promotion if he will move out of the area but I've told him "No. I'm not leaving Christ Central." (Not that he was at all keen on the idea of moving in the first place, so don't start thinking that I rule the roost!) We have both been blessed to be intricately involved in ladies' and men's ministry, the worship team and ushers' ministry. Our youngest daughter finds joy and fulfillment in her service to the Children's Church.

So I'm in my comfort zone. Cruisin' along, making plans for upcoming events, relishing in the afterglow of those God-moments, doing ministry and sharing life with my friends. There are always bumps along the way in any ministry. But none have been insurmountable. This is our church home. No, it's our home. I shall not be, I shall not be moved .....

So. According to the articles I was reading, I should have seen the writing on the wall. I was RIPE for adventure. But I didn't see it coming.

I was floored when our Executive Pastors and dear friends, Mark & Tina, announced five days ago that they were leaving to pastor Christ Central Alachua, our 7-year old church plant that is to be re-established. Sure, it's only 30 miles down the road, but I still felt like my right arm had just been severed from my body.

Craig and I cried out to God for healing and for peace. And for direction.

In the space of 72 hours, The Almighty unveiled His Will and Plan for us, step by step. Every question and concern we had was answered -- in fact had already been answered. I know He delighted, as any proud Father would, in watching our pain dissolve into joy and excitement.

We now have peace in knowing that we are called to go to Alachua and serve alongside Mark, Tina, and the congregation as we labor in His Service.

When I sit back and look at how He had this whole situation set up before I even realized it was a situation, I just laugh in delight and in awe of His goodness. He wants to keep amazing us over and over again.

Oh, and I'm ready for the Adventure, too! I've already claimed a front row seat to watch the miracles unfold.

The Big C's

2008-04-12T20:31:00.003-04:00

Earlier this month, my parents celebrated 50 years of marriage. We were privileged to host a celebration in their honor and invited a host of their family and friends from the past 50 years of their lives together.

I’ve been reflecting on what holds a marriage together for that long. I’ve determined that there are a couple of things that a lasting marriage is built around. Love is certainly what begins a lifetime together, but the feeling called love that we are familiar with fades with time. And therein lies the problem. Love cannot always be a feeling. Lasting love has to be much more than pheromones and hormones. When those things fade, all you have left is a choice. To love or not to love. As followers of Christ, we are all called to Love. Not only our spouses, but ... everyone.

The truth is: there are a couple of Big C’s involved in real love - the God-kind of Love.

Love is a Choice.
Choice is part of that whole free will thing that God has given us. We have the freedom to choose, to consider and select freely. Having a choice means we have the power, the opportunity or privilege to choose freely.

When I first heard the statement Love is a Choice, I thought “well, that’s a very nice sentiment, though not very practical.” Until the Holy Spirit reminded me how God loves me despite my rebelliousness, disobedience and lack of respect. He chooses to love me. If God acted on His feelings, I’d be in a whole lot of trouble … and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be alone. Think about that friend who betrayed you, the office gossip, that insubordinate employee, or ________ (you fill in the blank). If we acted on our feelings, most of us would say that we dislike or even hate that individual. If God did that, just where would I be? But, no. He chooses to love me, to give me another million chances, dispensing new mercies and pouring more grace over my life.

As followers of Christ, we should be constantly morphing to more-Christ-likeness every day. Christ made an outrageous choice to love us when He gave up His life for me and you. Since we have the Mind of Christ (I Corinthians 2:16), we too must make that selfless sacrifice, to choose to love the hard to love and even the unlovable.

Love is a Commitment.
Webster defines Commitment as an agreement or pledge to do something in the future; the state or an instance of being obligated or emotionally impelled.

I thought about the commitment that my parents kept every day during the last fifty years. When times were tight financially, when the disappointments of life stretched them too thin, when they argued about anything … trivial or important … they may have disagreed, there may have been tears and loud voices, there may have been hurt feelings, there may have even been fleeting thoughts of giving up and going their separate ways. But instead, a choice was made to love each other, even though it may have been difficult to conquer that feeling of un-love. They have not taken their commitment to each other lightly.

You’ve been married now for a few years, and you reeeeeeeally know your spouse by now. He’s got some junk in his life, doesn’t he? He’s not as perfect as you thought, is he? Before you agree too vehemently, ladies, we aren’t either. Over time, we tend to pile up our personal junk right in the middle of our relationships. No marriage is impervious to this. Only a committed mate will make the effort to climb over the junk to restore and renew the relationship. I know my parents have had junk in their marriage. The difference is: they made a choice to love in spite of the junk. Their commitment to God and to each other took priority over any hurt feelings or emotional distance between them.

In marriage, we would all agree that a commitment has been made. A pledge was made to your mate to love him or her for the rest of your life. But what about the rest of the human race? There has been no pledge given to love them, right? Keep reading.

Love is a Covenant.
Christ ordained two institutions: The Church and marriage. Interesting that the Church is the Bride of Christ ... the Bridegroom. Marriage on this earth is a parallel to and, indeed, a rehearsal for, the Marriage relationship we will have in Heaven with the Bridegroom. Marriage on this earth between a man and woman is the ultimate human relationship, and a covenant. God was the first to forge a covenant with man. God understands covenant. He does not break a covenant. When God is the center of a marriage covenant, He is the third cord referred to in Ecclesiastes 4:12. Without the strong third cord, marriage, which is already difficult, becomes treacherous. Thank God my parents have always kept Him at the center of their marriage and lives.

Love is a Commandment.
In Matthew 22:37-39 (NIV), Jesus said “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.” If the only two commandments Christ gave to the Church are to love God and to love each other, then love is pretty important to Him, isn’t it? It is interesting to note that, by the very definition of the word “command,” the One who gave the command is Someone with the authority to give such an order. Who else that ever walked about in human flesh has the authority to command us to love?

When Jesus saved me, I made a commitment to follow and serve and obey Him. There’s the commitment. I made the commitment to Jesus to obey Him, therefore I made a commitment to love the rest of the world.

Everlasting Love
Many times I wonder how God can love me with all the junk in my past, and the newly collected junk that threatens to overtake me every day. I’m glad He’s not like me. If I were Him, I’d get awfully tired of the repeated disobedience and spiritual adultery. When someone has repeatedly done me wrong, it’s very hard for me to forgive and to love. (Be honest, it’s probably hard for you, too!) I may say that I’ve forgiven, but sometimes I sure don’t feel like I have. But if I repeatedly tell myself that I have forgiven and I do love and not falter in that statement, eventually my heart will line up with my words. Love requires forgiveness. Forgiveness requires love.

Jesus loves His Church. Sure, she isn’t perfect. Many times she isn’t faithful. She is too easily turned aside to partake of worldly pleasures. Her affections are like the wind, they vacillate to and fro with the culture of the day. But Jesus loves us anyway, regardless of the sin that infests us.

We are the Body of Christ, The Bride. We are called to love EVERYONE. We have already made the commitment to Christ, now we have to put feet on that commitment and choose to love them, even when they may be unloveable. Remember … none are righteous, no not one. Yet, He loves every one of us.

Miracle of the Moment

2008-01-17T13:08:00.000-05:00

My hour-long commute to work not only gives me plenty of time to talk to the Lord, but plenty of time to behold the wonders of this world He created. As I drive along, I love to watch the dramatic sunrises each morning and sunsets each afternoon that He paints just for me.

A few days ago, as I drove south on I-75 through the rural pastures and forests, the mists that were rising from the ground among the trees and across the fields and the sun that was just cresting the tops of the trees melted into a soft, ethereal beauty that made my breath catch in my throat. Steven Curtis Chapman’s new song, “Miracle of the Moment” was playing on the radio at the time and I was singing along without actually thinking about the words. When the reality of the beauty I beheld in that moment collided with the words I was singing, my heart skipped a beat. “There’s a wonder in the here and now, it’s right here in front of you, and I don’t want you to miss the miracle of the moment.”*

The experience stayed with me all day long. I contemplated miracles -- the big ones and the not-so-big ones. I came to the realization that I’m always so busy looking for the dazzling flash of light followed by thunder-in-the-heavens kind of miracle that I miss the millions of mini-miracles happening all around me.

That evening, as I watched the movie “The Nativity,” I contemplated Mary. When the angel appeared to her and told her that she would bear the Messiah, she didn’t complain or whine, act out or make excuses. She accepted God’s call on her life, accepted all the pain, embarrassment, judgment and lifelong reputation that would accompany this pregnancy without complaint or comment. She didn’t tell God that the timing wasn’t right, or that she was busy doing something else right now, or that the whole situation made her uncomfortable. Ouch! Ashamedly, I wondered how many miracles I’ve passed up by not humbling myself before God when He asks me to do something. Where was my quiet obedience, my trusting attitude? He looks for willing hearts.

Mary’s call was unique; there is not another like hers. Although Mary’s was a spectacular, supernatural and dramatic call, the call on my life is just as much a call from God to serve His Kingdom as Mary’s call was. Whatever God has called each of us to do for Him is an, as yet, unwritten story. Depending on how we react to His request, the story could have a miraculous ending … or end in mid-sentence. In hindsight, I recognized that God had directed me to walk down a particular path and I had rebelled, citing all kinds of reasons why it just didn't work for me. I’ve then watched, with a sick feeling inside, as other women followed the same path that God had called me to: watched how God blessed them, their ministries, their families, and used them in a mighty way for His Kingdom purposes. That is the miracle I missed. I gave up my front row seat to watch that miracle unfold around me because I thought I knew more than God about what was right for my life. God reminded me, not so gently, that He doesn’t have to wait for me … He will accomplish His Work, and perform His miracles, through whomever is willing. If He doesn’t find a willing heart in me, then He will go elsewhere.

We are to wait upon the Lord, not the other way round. Oh, the miracles we miss when we do not wait on Him!

Scripture is replete with stories of those who chose to be obedient and whose faith was rewarded by landing right smack in the middle of a miracle. If the widow had not obeyed Elijah, she and her son would have died of hunger. If Naaman had not dipped himself in the Jordan River seven times, he would have been tormented with hideous leprosy to his grave. If the three Hebrew children had bowed to the Babylonian king, they wouldn’t have walked with the Son of God through the fiery furnace. If Daniel had not obeyed God and remained faithful, he may have met his end in the fierce jaws of a lion. If Noah hadn’t answered the call to build the ark, he, and the entire human race, would have perished.

The next time God calls, how will we answer? Will we turn a deaf ear? Will we try to negotiate our way out? Or will we be ready to get uncomfortable? Will we give the King of Kings the attention, respect and obedience that He alone deserves? When we give Him our complete attention, bow at His feet and unreservedly say “let it be to me according to Your Word,” we get to stand in His presence as He demonstrates His majesty and glory.

So the next time you hear that Still Small Voice, say "Yes, Lord" ... no matter what the request. Pull up a front row chair. Sit back and watch God at work. He doesn’t want you to miss the miracle of the moment.*

* Lyrics by Steven Curtis Chapman