I remember when I first got married like it was yesterday. Who doesn't? Well, I think maybe I remember it so vividly for a very different reason. I dreamed of staying single and to say I didn't want to get married would be an understatement. I got married because I believed it was what God wanted for me at that point in my life and trusted that He knew what was better for me and my daughter than I knew myself. All my plans had were working out so well, NOT! While the wedding was not bad, the part of submitting to a man was beyond painful to me. I wanted to be a career woman and he understood himself to be the primary provider in the home and had an active duty military career. We had one vehicle and he was not getting out of the military or putting his job at risk so I could work. His job took precedence over anything I wanted, which meant he got first dibs on the vehicle and I needed to be available to be with our daughter, eventually two daughters. God did a work in me and things began to change until we got orders to Germany; then life became a nightmare.
I remember our 8 years together in Germany because it was where we became a family. Stores closed early there and we had little money to do anything while living there; so, we spent a lot of time together in our apartment. We spent so much time together as a family that I hated life even more in the beginning. I wanted to work there too and was not able to. I felt like a failure because I was a "stay at home mom" and "just a wife." These were the labels I attached to myself and despised myself for it. I wanted to be bringing in a second income and to have the money and opportunities it would afford us, but it cost me more in childcare to work than to be at home. The first four years of Germany were the most miserable though because we only had one car there too; so, I was stranded at home and could not even go do things with the kids on my own. I remember feeling trapped and hating everyone that I was trapped with. Weekends would roll around and my husband would be home and I would be hateful and filled with anger and continually outbursts of wrath. Each time we were together there was something that would make me so angry I lived with one foot out the door. Time and again I would stand in the stairwell hall, next to my door, tears rolling down my face, begging God to let me go! I couldn't afford to leave my husband and my family financially and deep within me I understood the decision would impact others also. I remember times I would make it out to the car, having slammed out of the house. Sitting in the car behind the drivers wheel I would sob and pray because I was in a foreign country and had no money and could not leave my family. God did a work in me and again things began to change; but once again, life became nightmarish as my husband retired from the military and we had two grandsons.
Kris has been retired now for two years in March 2015. The first year was the most difficult time for me to make that transition. Once again, life got really hard and it was not working out the way I wanted. Once again, I began to live with one foot out the door. This time it was a little different though. Grace ministered deeper than before and I found myself letting go of the things I was clutching in my hand. I found myself remembering the words of our wedding vows made over 20 years ago. I found myself reflecting on the moments filled with laughter, tears, hugs, and gentle touches from him and my children. This time, though the tears fell and the pain was deep, I knew we would make it. I knew I would make it. I knew this time, the struggle was really about me learning to handle change and disappointment in a way that would bring Him glory. As Christmas has come and now gone in 2014, I have been surrounded by love and family. I have been strengthened by good friends and fortunate to find warriors who stand beside me in prayer and encouragement through some of the most fearful and anxious times for me. But most of all, I have been blessed by a God whose unfailing love did not allow Him to give up on me. While He hurt for my marriage and the pain in it, He was determined beyond all else that I would know Him. Only in being found by Him have I found satisfaction and grace in my marriage and come to love my husband and family as the gifts God intended them to be. I rarely share this part of my testimony because it is painful for me to even think about. I was filled with such hatred, rage, and bitterness, because of my disappointment at not getting my way. I created such a hostile place on so many occasions in a sacred space created to be a refuge, not a war zone. Today as I sat in my devotion time though, I felt as if there are others who are in pain. I felt as if I was close to them and just wanted to reach out and let them know, "You are not alone! God sees. He will not quit and He will not leave. No matter why the tears fall, He is close enough to catch them in a bottle. Don't give up!!!!!! This is a battle worth fighting! There will be far greater losses if you give up! I'm praying for you."
12/26/14
12/13/14
Grief at Christmas
I haven't had much time to say anything; however, this has really been sitting heavy in my heart. Several of those associated with me on Facebook are posting about grief, loss, and the holiday. Christmas is a time of year that naturally makes us think about those who are no longer celebrating with us. Just yesterday I was driving home from my daughter's house, with my husband and grandson, listening to Christmas carols and I started to cry as I remembered my friend Ken. Christmas was one of his favorite times of the year and he loved Jesus more than anything and anyone. His family lives five minutes from ours; as we drove by his house, I remember thinking, "My friend, I sure do miss you!" Earlier in the week, someone had shared with me, "God understands my grief," and this has stuck with me all week. It is only now that I find the time to reply to that statement.
A few weeks ago I was asked to share a devotion with some ladies at the local church I attend. The Lord gave me Isaiah 53:3 "He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised and we esteemed him not." Jesus was conceived in grief and loss, with his mother suffering loss of family, community, friendships, and facing the potential loss of her betrothed; yet, she said "YES." When he was born, she watched him being rejected by those around him. She watched him, over the years, as he was despised by his peers. Mary spent a lifetime observing the countless occasions her baby boy was actively hated, passed over, and either persecuted or blatantly ignored. When he reached a peak in his life, she watched it cut short as he hung between two criminals, on a cross, outside the city walls. His body was mutilated and bloody as he hung on the cross. His body and face were covered in blood as she watched him draw his last breath. What has that got to do with Christmas you might ask? Even more important, what does it have to do with surviving grief at the holidays?
Did you know grief impacts us physically, emotionally, and mentally? It makes the body more tired and there is an element of depression. The body becomes easily fatigued because it has to work harder to do the daily tasks it is accustomed to doing. Emotions are often intense and the intensity can be easily triggered by something as simple as a smell or color that reminds us of the one we are missing. Regulating these emotions to avoid embarrassment in front of people or to continue working can be difficult. For a mother with other children, they often express the importance of "keeping it together" to provide stability for the other children. People who are grieving can be forgetful and indecisive. This can be a source of frustration to the both the individual grieving and those depending on him or her. Grief happens naturally and is a natural response when someone we love dies; so, it cannot be circumvented forever and no medication or treatment can "cure" it. Grief of a parent who has had a child die can be even more intense. The loss of a child can cause a marriage to crumple, especially when coupled with poor communication, lack of tolerance concerning different grieving styles, and a lack of education regarding grief in general. Studies relating to grief and loss of a child have shown "Everyone suffers loss in different ways depending upon their beliefs, culture, family history, and relationship with the person who died. It doesn't mean that others care less if they mourn differently than you do. Grief can also vary greatly depending upon how the child died. While some losses are less visible, such as miscarriage, other experiences of loss are more traumatic, such as an accident, illness, murder or death during war. Even more significant is that the parents of murder victims face many unique struggles in their process of bereavement. A sense of loss of control is common, and the suddenness of the death is so overwhelming that, for a period of time, parents are often incapable of processing through the grief. For this group, dealing with spiritual beliefs, attitudes toward life, and general physical health may hold special importance."
(American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy www.aamft.org)
Again we revisit the questions I asked at the beginning. What does all of this have to do with Mary, Christmas, and grief at Christmas? Mary was a parent who watched her child traumatically murdered. Each year we celebrate Christmas, what we commonly call the birthday of Jesus, Mary might have experienced it differently. No matter what promises she had pondered in her heart or knew God had given her regarding her son, it was still her baby boy that she watched die that day on Calvary. A lifetime of loss and grief associated with all the dreams she of her baby boy and what it would look like when he grew up and even lived out the promise of the Messiah to save His people. His life was cut short. She was never a grandmother to his babies. Mary never met the woman that he had chosen to spend his life with. She never watched him overthrow the Roman Government that oppressed them. Does the blessing of tomorrow wipe away the grief of the past? No, it just gives us comfort and hope! Yes, the way He saved His people was so much MORE spectacular...HE ROSE FROM THE DEAD!!!!! That is awesome! But I don't know that it ever changed the spot Jesus held in His mother's heart. She carried him for nine months in her belly, went through childbirth with him, and watched as he grew up while she knew he was the son of God! Just as our babies grow up and are still our babies...I imagine He grew up but remained her baby boy and that would have made her grief intense. So when I hear someone say..."God understands my grief," my heart overflows, my eyes fill with tears, and I think..."Yes my friend, He does." What helps with grief at Christmas time? Remembering the life that you loved, and allowing the hope and comfort of God to take you through today. While that is an extremely spiritual answer, I am just not convinced of any other. No one knows more or understands more about grief than the Father of the one who was given for us <3
A few weeks ago I was asked to share a devotion with some ladies at the local church I attend. The Lord gave me Isaiah 53:3 "He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised and we esteemed him not." Jesus was conceived in grief and loss, with his mother suffering loss of family, community, friendships, and facing the potential loss of her betrothed; yet, she said "YES." When he was born, she watched him being rejected by those around him. She watched him, over the years, as he was despised by his peers. Mary spent a lifetime observing the countless occasions her baby boy was actively hated, passed over, and either persecuted or blatantly ignored. When he reached a peak in his life, she watched it cut short as he hung between two criminals, on a cross, outside the city walls. His body was mutilated and bloody as he hung on the cross. His body and face were covered in blood as she watched him draw his last breath. What has that got to do with Christmas you might ask? Even more important, what does it have to do with surviving grief at the holidays?
Did you know grief impacts us physically, emotionally, and mentally? It makes the body more tired and there is an element of depression. The body becomes easily fatigued because it has to work harder to do the daily tasks it is accustomed to doing. Emotions are often intense and the intensity can be easily triggered by something as simple as a smell or color that reminds us of the one we are missing. Regulating these emotions to avoid embarrassment in front of people or to continue working can be difficult. For a mother with other children, they often express the importance of "keeping it together" to provide stability for the other children. People who are grieving can be forgetful and indecisive. This can be a source of frustration to the both the individual grieving and those depending on him or her. Grief happens naturally and is a natural response when someone we love dies; so, it cannot be circumvented forever and no medication or treatment can "cure" it. Grief of a parent who has had a child die can be even more intense. The loss of a child can cause a marriage to crumple, especially when coupled with poor communication, lack of tolerance concerning different grieving styles, and a lack of education regarding grief in general. Studies relating to grief and loss of a child have shown "Everyone suffers loss in different ways depending upon their beliefs, culture, family history, and relationship with the person who died. It doesn't mean that others care less if they mourn differently than you do. Grief can also vary greatly depending upon how the child died. While some losses are less visible, such as miscarriage, other experiences of loss are more traumatic, such as an accident, illness, murder or death during war. Even more significant is that the parents of murder victims face many unique struggles in their process of bereavement. A sense of loss of control is common, and the suddenness of the death is so overwhelming that, for a period of time, parents are often incapable of processing through the grief. For this group, dealing with spiritual beliefs, attitudes toward life, and general physical health may hold special importance."
(American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy www.aamft.org)
Again we revisit the questions I asked at the beginning. What does all of this have to do with Mary, Christmas, and grief at Christmas? Mary was a parent who watched her child traumatically murdered. Each year we celebrate Christmas, what we commonly call the birthday of Jesus, Mary might have experienced it differently. No matter what promises she had pondered in her heart or knew God had given her regarding her son, it was still her baby boy that she watched die that day on Calvary. A lifetime of loss and grief associated with all the dreams she of her baby boy and what it would look like when he grew up and even lived out the promise of the Messiah to save His people. His life was cut short. She was never a grandmother to his babies. Mary never met the woman that he had chosen to spend his life with. She never watched him overthrow the Roman Government that oppressed them. Does the blessing of tomorrow wipe away the grief of the past? No, it just gives us comfort and hope! Yes, the way He saved His people was so much MORE spectacular...HE ROSE FROM THE DEAD!!!!! That is awesome! But I don't know that it ever changed the spot Jesus held in His mother's heart. She carried him for nine months in her belly, went through childbirth with him, and watched as he grew up while she knew he was the son of God! Just as our babies grow up and are still our babies...I imagine He grew up but remained her baby boy and that would have made her grief intense. So when I hear someone say..."God understands my grief," my heart overflows, my eyes fill with tears, and I think..."Yes my friend, He does." What helps with grief at Christmas time? Remembering the life that you loved, and allowing the hope and comfort of God to take you through today. While that is an extremely spiritual answer, I am just not convinced of any other. No one knows more or understands more about grief than the Father of the one who was given for us <3
10/12/14
I think I'll have a seat!
Hmmmmmmmmmm! What have I learned this week? Where have I seen and experienced God? What meaningful encounter has sat with me all week and caused me to reflect on things of eternal value? Deep questions that cause me to slow down and consider all that has occurred and the meaning it holds for me. I guess if I were to write about one thing from my week I would write about the Scriptures I read over the last few days. For devotion time, I have been reading from the One Year Chronological Bible and two stories have lingered with me as the week has drawn to a close.
Did you know several chapters in the Gospel talk about Jesus going up on a hill or mountainside and sitting down? He sat down! That just blows me away! I know, I know, I know, we all sit down. Being a chaplain though, I have learned the special significance of that act, drawing up a chair at the bedside of a patient or sitting down in the family room with a family member who is caring for their loved one who is dying. Sitting down is significant because the act of it makes a powerful statement. Have you ever gone somewhere with your spouse, and you're on a time crunch! There's a lot to do that day and not enough time to do it! So you get to the mall, the one place you dread going on the weekend because you know it is crazy busy. There are crowds everywhere and as you short-cut through the food court you both see someone you know. The plan is to say "hi/bye" as quickly as possible, after all, you have somewhere to be! But then....they begin talking and you know! There's no way to stop it! There he goes, your husband has pulled out the chair and sat down!!!!!! You may as well join him because you know the message he just gave, "We have time." That's what Jesus did everywhere he went, throughout his ministry, he is sitting down with someone. There was nothing more important to him than being present with those around him!
The other thing I noticed in the Scripture passages this week was about the blind man brought to him for healing. Before Jesus healed him, he took him by the hand and led him out of the village (Mt.16). Jesus could have just opened his eyes, instead...he took the blind man by the hand and walked with him, out of the village! What a powerful picture I found here too!!!!! Jesus held his hand and walked with him! How many times has God done that with me? To many to count to be sure!!!!! Even now, I see my current situation and know that it is God who has taken my hand and is walking me out of the mindsets I have lived with for so long, out of the village in which I have lived blind (so to speak). I rejoice in the man's healing! I am excited at the fact Jesus led him! But what really touches me is what I find to be consistently present in each of the Gospels when they describe Jesus...His most powerful ministry was the ministry of presence!
Wasn't that what salvation was about? Emmanual, God with us! Isn't that what is so overwhelming? There is someone NEVER LEAVES ME, He never abandons me! He is always WITH ME! While the Scriptures never say, "God inhabits the praises of His people," they do say, "But thou art holy, O thou that inhabits the praises of Israel" (Ps.22:3). The word "inhabits" is significant because it comes from a Hebrew root word, Yashab, which means "to sit down". God dwelling in a location, in the Old Testament Hebrew, was the same as God sitting down. It meant He had the time and had taken up residence. The New Testament goes on with the same thing when Paul writes to the Ephesian church, "That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith..." (Eph.3:17) God took a seat in the center of my heart on the day I said YES!!!!! And He's never left!
On a side note...did you notice the first thing the blind man saw were people? What is significant about that you ask? When Jesus took a seat in me, he opened my eyes to notice the hurting people around me. I saw them as they really were, in pain, lost, confused, tormented, angry, bitter, and so much more! As I reflect back over my week, I can't help but see Jesus sitting in the center of it all, from the little old lady who needed to find family, to the doctor providing my own care! As I reflect back over my week, I can't help but feel my hand still in His, as He continues to lead me out of the village that I might see more clearly the authentic people around me, even as He sees them. I am so thankful for a God who has time to be "present" with me!!!!!
Did you know several chapters in the Gospel talk about Jesus going up on a hill or mountainside and sitting down? He sat down! That just blows me away! I know, I know, I know, we all sit down. Being a chaplain though, I have learned the special significance of that act, drawing up a chair at the bedside of a patient or sitting down in the family room with a family member who is caring for their loved one who is dying. Sitting down is significant because the act of it makes a powerful statement. Have you ever gone somewhere with your spouse, and you're on a time crunch! There's a lot to do that day and not enough time to do it! So you get to the mall, the one place you dread going on the weekend because you know it is crazy busy. There are crowds everywhere and as you short-cut through the food court you both see someone you know. The plan is to say "hi/bye" as quickly as possible, after all, you have somewhere to be! But then....they begin talking and you know! There's no way to stop it! There he goes, your husband has pulled out the chair and sat down!!!!!! You may as well join him because you know the message he just gave, "We have time." That's what Jesus did everywhere he went, throughout his ministry, he is sitting down with someone. There was nothing more important to him than being present with those around him!
The other thing I noticed in the Scripture passages this week was about the blind man brought to him for healing. Before Jesus healed him, he took him by the hand and led him out of the village (Mt.16). Jesus could have just opened his eyes, instead...he took the blind man by the hand and walked with him, out of the village! What a powerful picture I found here too!!!!! Jesus held his hand and walked with him! How many times has God done that with me? To many to count to be sure!!!!! Even now, I see my current situation and know that it is God who has taken my hand and is walking me out of the mindsets I have lived with for so long, out of the village in which I have lived blind (so to speak). I rejoice in the man's healing! I am excited at the fact Jesus led him! But what really touches me is what I find to be consistently present in each of the Gospels when they describe Jesus...His most powerful ministry was the ministry of presence!
Wasn't that what salvation was about? Emmanual, God with us! Isn't that what is so overwhelming? There is someone NEVER LEAVES ME, He never abandons me! He is always WITH ME! While the Scriptures never say, "God inhabits the praises of His people," they do say, "But thou art holy, O thou that inhabits the praises of Israel" (Ps.22:3). The word "inhabits" is significant because it comes from a Hebrew root word, Yashab, which means "to sit down". God dwelling in a location, in the Old Testament Hebrew, was the same as God sitting down. It meant He had the time and had taken up residence. The New Testament goes on with the same thing when Paul writes to the Ephesian church, "That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith..." (Eph.3:17) God took a seat in the center of my heart on the day I said YES!!!!! And He's never left!
On a side note...did you notice the first thing the blind man saw were people? What is significant about that you ask? When Jesus took a seat in me, he opened my eyes to notice the hurting people around me. I saw them as they really were, in pain, lost, confused, tormented, angry, bitter, and so much more! As I reflect back over my week, I can't help but see Jesus sitting in the center of it all, from the little old lady who needed to find family, to the doctor providing my own care! As I reflect back over my week, I can't help but feel my hand still in His, as He continues to lead me out of the village that I might see more clearly the authentic people around me, even as He sees them. I am so thankful for a God who has time to be "present" with me!!!!!
10/5/14
Uncluttering the Heart
STORING IT UP
As you read this blog, keep in mind I grew up in a time when we were taught to memorize Scriptures by writing them on index cards and carrying them in our purses. Housewives, mothers, and women of all ages were writing Scriptures on cards and putting them on refrigerators, mirrors, and sticky notes throughout the house, to help them memorize them. Only in the last couple of years have I returned to this type of burning desire to read, study, memorize, and meditate on the Word of God the way I used to. It was so easy to start because Target had these cute little index cards on key rings for students to help memorize things they needed to know for school. They were so inconvenient though. Cards would rip out, or the key ring and cards would get buried in my purse, or I would take a different purse. Imagine my delight to find the android telephone system has a widget that pops me up a new bible verse every morning with whatever photograph I have put with it on the widget. To make it even better, it stays visible on the screen all day and doesn't take up the whole screen! I left my iphone for it! There are times it has been annoying, and then there are times it has just kind of made me remember days gone by as I have reflected on God's Word; today was one of those days.
The verse on the screen this morning was Psalm 119:11 and read, "I have stored up Your Word in my heart, that I might not sin against You." It's so funny because re-reading that verse throughout the day has just brought a constant visual of our garage to my mind. It's full!!!!! I don't know how much more we can possibly put in there, but my husband keeps finding room. The girls will ask us to pack stuff up, tell us they don't have any more room, and ask us to store it for them. Daddy just gets another box and loads it up. They are all such a sentimental bunch, I think Kris likes to hang on to the stuff and reopen it down the road as much as they do! Consequently, they are all very annoyed when it has been in the garage for a year and the day after I get rid of the box, they ask me for something in it. I like to keep things uncluttered; therefore, I clean house. The rule is, if you haven't missed it over the last year, then you don't need it anymore! Understanding Psalm 119:11 becomes quite a challenge for me, the person who likes things uncluttered :)
"Stored up" comes from the original Hebrew word for hid, which is tsaphan, meaning to treasure and hide from discovery. WOW!!!!!! This means I am to collect the "Word of God" and put them away in a safe, like we see in the old movies. You know the ones I'm talking about! The movies where the rich ladies live in these fancy houses, owning a lot jewelry and keeping it locked in a wall safe behind a portrait or piece of art, or sometimes hidden in the safe under the floorboards, or behind the headboard of the bed. They are afraid if it is left out in the open, then they will get robbed. Shouldn't I feel the same sort of value, prize, and desire to protect and guard of the Word of God that has been deposited within me? YES! YES! and YES! I certainly should. Each time I read the word, I am given yet another jewel as the Holy Spirit ministers life, strength, joy, peace, hope, comfort, and so much more to me. Sometimes it is meant to address where I currently find myself, sometimes it is linked to things He has brought me through, and sometimes it is to anchor me with hope in the days to come. Nevertheless, no matter how I look at it, it is VALUABLE and needs to be safeguarded so it cannot be stolen! The bible talks about how the enemy of God comes and steals away the Word which has been sown in the heart of the one who fails to understand it. To "safe keep" and "guard" the jewels of the Word in me, I must have an understanding of the Word and what God is saying to me. Understanding is different than knowledge because it means to the ability to and obedience to apply the Word God has given me! It is not enough just to "know" the Word! This is just the mere formality of owning a beautiful piece of jewelry and then casually taking it off at the end of the night and leaving it out in the open on the dresser, careless with its care, and left for anyone to walk away with. IF I am understanding the Word sown into my life, then I am an individual who has heard and obeyed the Word God has ministered to me, it has changed me. In this, it is placed within a Holy vault and locked away from theft of the enemy. This, my friend, is what it means to "store up" the Word of God!
As you read this blog, keep in mind I grew up in a time when we were taught to memorize Scriptures by writing them on index cards and carrying them in our purses. Housewives, mothers, and women of all ages were writing Scriptures on cards and putting them on refrigerators, mirrors, and sticky notes throughout the house, to help them memorize them. Only in the last couple of years have I returned to this type of burning desire to read, study, memorize, and meditate on the Word of God the way I used to. It was so easy to start because Target had these cute little index cards on key rings for students to help memorize things they needed to know for school. They were so inconvenient though. Cards would rip out, or the key ring and cards would get buried in my purse, or I would take a different purse. Imagine my delight to find the android telephone system has a widget that pops me up a new bible verse every morning with whatever photograph I have put with it on the widget. To make it even better, it stays visible on the screen all day and doesn't take up the whole screen! I left my iphone for it! There are times it has been annoying, and then there are times it has just kind of made me remember days gone by as I have reflected on God's Word; today was one of those days.
The verse on the screen this morning was Psalm 119:11 and read, "I have stored up Your Word in my heart, that I might not sin against You." It's so funny because re-reading that verse throughout the day has just brought a constant visual of our garage to my mind. It's full!!!!! I don't know how much more we can possibly put in there, but my husband keeps finding room. The girls will ask us to pack stuff up, tell us they don't have any more room, and ask us to store it for them. Daddy just gets another box and loads it up. They are all such a sentimental bunch, I think Kris likes to hang on to the stuff and reopen it down the road as much as they do! Consequently, they are all very annoyed when it has been in the garage for a year and the day after I get rid of the box, they ask me for something in it. I like to keep things uncluttered; therefore, I clean house. The rule is, if you haven't missed it over the last year, then you don't need it anymore! Understanding Psalm 119:11 becomes quite a challenge for me, the person who likes things uncluttered :)
"Stored up" comes from the original Hebrew word for hid, which is tsaphan, meaning to treasure and hide from discovery. WOW!!!!!! This means I am to collect the "Word of God" and put them away in a safe, like we see in the old movies. You know the ones I'm talking about! The movies where the rich ladies live in these fancy houses, owning a lot jewelry and keeping it locked in a wall safe behind a portrait or piece of art, or sometimes hidden in the safe under the floorboards, or behind the headboard of the bed. They are afraid if it is left out in the open, then they will get robbed. Shouldn't I feel the same sort of value, prize, and desire to protect and guard of the Word of God that has been deposited within me? YES! YES! and YES! I certainly should. Each time I read the word, I am given yet another jewel as the Holy Spirit ministers life, strength, joy, peace, hope, comfort, and so much more to me. Sometimes it is meant to address where I currently find myself, sometimes it is linked to things He has brought me through, and sometimes it is to anchor me with hope in the days to come. Nevertheless, no matter how I look at it, it is VALUABLE and needs to be safeguarded so it cannot be stolen! The bible talks about how the enemy of God comes and steals away the Word which has been sown in the heart of the one who fails to understand it. To "safe keep" and "guard" the jewels of the Word in me, I must have an understanding of the Word and what God is saying to me. Understanding is different than knowledge because it means to the ability to and obedience to apply the Word God has given me! It is not enough just to "know" the Word! This is just the mere formality of owning a beautiful piece of jewelry and then casually taking it off at the end of the night and leaving it out in the open on the dresser, careless with its care, and left for anyone to walk away with. IF I am understanding the Word sown into my life, then I am an individual who has heard and obeyed the Word God has ministered to me, it has changed me. In this, it is placed within a Holy vault and locked away from theft of the enemy. This, my friend, is what it means to "store up" the Word of God!
Reward or Portion? You choose!
"My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; He is mine forever." Ps.73:26 NLT
It was just a few weeks ago the Lord began talking to me about this topic, it just feels like a life time ago to be honest. Frankly, it all started with a simple conversation I was having with God. We were talking about how much I love Him, how much He loves me, and what He means to me. It was our standard conversation. Honestly, it just doesn't seem like I move much beyond those conversations sometimes, all I want to talk about is how much I love Him and what He means to me. That day was no exception and I was explaining to God that He is my EVERYTHING! I love Him so much and He means the world to me! Jesus is my ALL IN ALL, and my "reward." It was at the use of the word "reward" that God butted in and quieted me down. He wanted to draw MY attention to what I had said. At first I couldn't understand what was so problematic about me understanding and experiencing Jesus Christ as my "reward." Some times people have shared with me they feel that I am to much a stickler for word choice and it is really just semantics, but in this case, like in several others, I have found that small selections of the words I choose to use sometimes reveal some of the most problematic theological beliefs I might be having.
The word "reward" is used several times in Scripture, primarily in the New Testament. If you look up the definition for it, it means: dues paid for work wages, hire, used of fruit naturally resulting from toils or labor. It comes from the word misthos, used a total of 28 times. It is about what I do and implies it is something that is earned. God stopped me in the midst of my love expression to Him because He heard my heart in a way I had not. He wanted me to hear myself say, "God I love you so much and understand You, Your love, and Your presence in my life, to somehow, someway be something that has been earned." That is a significant insight to me because I have been very performance oriented my whole life; yet, have an understanding that the love of God is not earned by anything I have done. I did not realize the root of pride that still had been deeply ingrained in my heart. I gave it to God and in the giving it to Him, He presented me with something greater. He replied, "Let me be your 'portion.'"
"Portion" is not a word that I have been familiar with over the years; so, I have had to study its meaning a little bit to responded to God's offer. "Portion" in the Psalms verse I quoted is actually a noun, based in the verb meaning: to divide, plunder, allot, assign, impart, share. It comes from the Hebrew word chalaq. The noun is based on this and means share, and award from God, cheleq. I did not have to work to earn the love of God and experience it as a noun because Jesus did the verb! That day, God invited me to rest a little easier, to be a peace a lot more, to breath more deeply and just "be" with Him in a way that I have occasionally experienced it. Since recently experiencing some significant health issues, I have come to value the invitation God gave me in that confrontation.
Recent health issues have brought me back to a passage of Scripture God ministered to me when we first moved to North Carolina. The 23rd Psalm was what He ministered to me and told me to anchor myself to, with special emphasis on the verses that said, "Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou prepares the table before me, in the presence of Thine enemies: Thou annoinst my head with oil: my cup runneth over." In the midst of this crisis, my family and I have had incredible calmness, even being uncertain of the outcome. With no guarantee about what tomorrow will bring, I have come to realize we never do have any other guarantee beyond that of His word and it is moments like this that I am most aware of what is always my reality. If I understand His love to be my "reward", then on these occasions I would have to wonder if I was still loved. But, when I experience and receive Jesus Christ as my "portion", then I have an assurance that no matter the outcome, His presence and His delight and His desire to "be" with me is ongoing. In the face of my enemies, I find myself feasting with the King and finding peace, rest, comfort, and hope under the banner of His love. How glad and grateful I am for the day He stopped me in my tracks and challenged me with the pride that I harbored! There has been nothing more substantial or wonderful than the invitation He gave me to understand the gift of His presence, the portion He is to me, even as I sit in the valley, in the presence of mine enemies and KNOW, He has anointed my head with oil and no matter how it looks...my CUP is indeed running over.
Be blessed my friends! It is my sincere prayer for each of you, who read this, that you find that same beauty of His companionship in the place others fear to go and often rush through, the valley of the shadow of death. May He find you too, willing to linger in the valley if that is how He leads. <3 Shalom
It was just a few weeks ago the Lord began talking to me about this topic, it just feels like a life time ago to be honest. Frankly, it all started with a simple conversation I was having with God. We were talking about how much I love Him, how much He loves me, and what He means to me. It was our standard conversation. Honestly, it just doesn't seem like I move much beyond those conversations sometimes, all I want to talk about is how much I love Him and what He means to me. That day was no exception and I was explaining to God that He is my EVERYTHING! I love Him so much and He means the world to me! Jesus is my ALL IN ALL, and my "reward." It was at the use of the word "reward" that God butted in and quieted me down. He wanted to draw MY attention to what I had said. At first I couldn't understand what was so problematic about me understanding and experiencing Jesus Christ as my "reward." Some times people have shared with me they feel that I am to much a stickler for word choice and it is really just semantics, but in this case, like in several others, I have found that small selections of the words I choose to use sometimes reveal some of the most problematic theological beliefs I might be having.
The word "reward" is used several times in Scripture, primarily in the New Testament. If you look up the definition for it, it means: dues paid for work wages, hire, used of fruit naturally resulting from toils or labor. It comes from the word misthos, used a total of 28 times. It is about what I do and implies it is something that is earned. God stopped me in the midst of my love expression to Him because He heard my heart in a way I had not. He wanted me to hear myself say, "God I love you so much and understand You, Your love, and Your presence in my life, to somehow, someway be something that has been earned." That is a significant insight to me because I have been very performance oriented my whole life; yet, have an understanding that the love of God is not earned by anything I have done. I did not realize the root of pride that still had been deeply ingrained in my heart. I gave it to God and in the giving it to Him, He presented me with something greater. He replied, "Let me be your 'portion.'"
"Portion" is not a word that I have been familiar with over the years; so, I have had to study its meaning a little bit to responded to God's offer. "Portion" in the Psalms verse I quoted is actually a noun, based in the verb meaning: to divide, plunder, allot, assign, impart, share. It comes from the Hebrew word chalaq. The noun is based on this and means share, and award from God, cheleq. I did not have to work to earn the love of God and experience it as a noun because Jesus did the verb! That day, God invited me to rest a little easier, to be a peace a lot more, to breath more deeply and just "be" with Him in a way that I have occasionally experienced it. Since recently experiencing some significant health issues, I have come to value the invitation God gave me in that confrontation.
Recent health issues have brought me back to a passage of Scripture God ministered to me when we first moved to North Carolina. The 23rd Psalm was what He ministered to me and told me to anchor myself to, with special emphasis on the verses that said, "Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou prepares the table before me, in the presence of Thine enemies: Thou annoinst my head with oil: my cup runneth over." In the midst of this crisis, my family and I have had incredible calmness, even being uncertain of the outcome. With no guarantee about what tomorrow will bring, I have come to realize we never do have any other guarantee beyond that of His word and it is moments like this that I am most aware of what is always my reality. If I understand His love to be my "reward", then on these occasions I would have to wonder if I was still loved. But, when I experience and receive Jesus Christ as my "portion", then I have an assurance that no matter the outcome, His presence and His delight and His desire to "be" with me is ongoing. In the face of my enemies, I find myself feasting with the King and finding peace, rest, comfort, and hope under the banner of His love. How glad and grateful I am for the day He stopped me in my tracks and challenged me with the pride that I harbored! There has been nothing more substantial or wonderful than the invitation He gave me to understand the gift of His presence, the portion He is to me, even as I sit in the valley, in the presence of mine enemies and KNOW, He has anointed my head with oil and no matter how it looks...my CUP is indeed running over.
Be blessed my friends! It is my sincere prayer for each of you, who read this, that you find that same beauty of His companionship in the place others fear to go and often rush through, the valley of the shadow of death. May He find you too, willing to linger in the valley if that is how He leads. <3 Shalom
8/22/14
That Night at Dinner...
I've struggled with hospitality over the years, especially when you add food to the equation. I never knew what to do at another person's house and was equally uncertain what to do with them when they were at my house. When we had company, the house had to be spotless; I wanted the best china to be out and the prettiest table cloths. Hospitality meant giving my best, and my best was usually something that I would have liked to have done for myself and my family but couldn't afford the time, the effort, or the money. Needless to say, whenever I offered hospitality, I didn't really feel like myself. Most of the time, I felt like a fake. Looking back I can see how this stemmed from my own insecurities, but it often left me wondering about true hospitality, authentic and real, and what it looked like.
This week in hospice I was reminded of true hospitality. The nurse had given us notification a patient was beginning to transition and I knew I wanted to be with the patient and family for a little while that day, but I felt awkward, like I was intruding on something private and holy. The awkward feeling was not new to me, it was the same awkwardness I felt when having people over to my house for dinner; on the occasions I went to their house for dinner. When I arrived, I was immediately invited in and just sat quietly, occasionally shattering the silence with the sound of my voice. I was uncertain what to say, and sometimes felt uncomfortable not saying anything at all, but I cared deeply and wanted to be there. Every now and then, the family members or friends would venture out into the quiet and share a memory of the life they had known. In those moments, as I listened, I felt authentic. I felt the space they had provided and knew I was a part of this story. Quietly, I just reached out and took the hand next to mine, sitting, and listening to the story of the hearts in the room, when they were silent and when they spoke. It was place occupied by death and dying, but also filled with life and love. It hurt to be there, but none of us could have imagined or desired to be anywhere else. As the patient's family members cared for some of the intimate needs of the patient, I went to leave with everyone else, but the family stopped me and asked me to remain. Awkward and uncomfortable, I remained and added another memory to the story that grows inside of me with each encounter.
Tonight as I sit reflecting on my week and thinking of this encounter and so many others, I feel a little closer to the understanding of hospitality. A Scripture (Luke 7:36-50) comes to mind about a dinner long ago, with a room filled with men. They had all gathered together and were seated around the table in friendship and fellowship. It was an awkward night too though, because on that night, a single woman entered the room. She was an immoral woman and came right up to the son of God, the proclaimed Messiah. He was reputed to be righteous and holy, but allowed her to approach him, kneeling at his feet, weeping tears over them, anointing them with perfume, and wiping them dry with her hair. This was scandalous behavior in a culture that kept the men and women separate, and certainly did not look affectionately on such displays from immoral women to men who were a part of the religious community. Jesus was more than part of the religious community though, he was the Messiah and everyone following Him had heard him speak of His Father. It was beyond awkward and uncomfortable; yet, in that awkwardness Christ spoke. He spoke of love, mercy, forgiveness, and the GREAT GREAT love of God!!!!!! What an odd Scripture to reflect upon as I consider the family I was present with this week, but somehow I feel that in the most awkward moment of my visit...I encountered true hospitality in a way I have never known it before. No one was trying to entertain anyone. No one was trying to impress anyone. No food was set out. No board games were present. It was just love in that room as each person considered what this loss will mean to them and what a gift the life has been. In the presence of the living and dying, I experienced and heard love, mercy, forgiveness, and the GREAT GREAT love of God that Jesus spoke of to Simon on that night long ago, and knew that I had been in the presence of the most authentic hospitality.
This week in hospice I was reminded of true hospitality. The nurse had given us notification a patient was beginning to transition and I knew I wanted to be with the patient and family for a little while that day, but I felt awkward, like I was intruding on something private and holy. The awkward feeling was not new to me, it was the same awkwardness I felt when having people over to my house for dinner; on the occasions I went to their house for dinner. When I arrived, I was immediately invited in and just sat quietly, occasionally shattering the silence with the sound of my voice. I was uncertain what to say, and sometimes felt uncomfortable not saying anything at all, but I cared deeply and wanted to be there. Every now and then, the family members or friends would venture out into the quiet and share a memory of the life they had known. In those moments, as I listened, I felt authentic. I felt the space they had provided and knew I was a part of this story. Quietly, I just reached out and took the hand next to mine, sitting, and listening to the story of the hearts in the room, when they were silent and when they spoke. It was place occupied by death and dying, but also filled with life and love. It hurt to be there, but none of us could have imagined or desired to be anywhere else. As the patient's family members cared for some of the intimate needs of the patient, I went to leave with everyone else, but the family stopped me and asked me to remain. Awkward and uncomfortable, I remained and added another memory to the story that grows inside of me with each encounter.
Tonight as I sit reflecting on my week and thinking of this encounter and so many others, I feel a little closer to the understanding of hospitality. A Scripture (Luke 7:36-50) comes to mind about a dinner long ago, with a room filled with men. They had all gathered together and were seated around the table in friendship and fellowship. It was an awkward night too though, because on that night, a single woman entered the room. She was an immoral woman and came right up to the son of God, the proclaimed Messiah. He was reputed to be righteous and holy, but allowed her to approach him, kneeling at his feet, weeping tears over them, anointing them with perfume, and wiping them dry with her hair. This was scandalous behavior in a culture that kept the men and women separate, and certainly did not look affectionately on such displays from immoral women to men who were a part of the religious community. Jesus was more than part of the religious community though, he was the Messiah and everyone following Him had heard him speak of His Father. It was beyond awkward and uncomfortable; yet, in that awkwardness Christ spoke. He spoke of love, mercy, forgiveness, and the GREAT GREAT love of God!!!!!! What an odd Scripture to reflect upon as I consider the family I was present with this week, but somehow I feel that in the most awkward moment of my visit...I encountered true hospitality in a way I have never known it before. No one was trying to entertain anyone. No one was trying to impress anyone. No food was set out. No board games were present. It was just love in that room as each person considered what this loss will mean to them and what a gift the life has been. In the presence of the living and dying, I experienced and heard love, mercy, forgiveness, and the GREAT GREAT love of God that Jesus spoke of to Simon on that night long ago, and knew that I had been in the presence of the most authentic hospitality.
8/17/14
REFERAL FOR A HAIR DRESSER GREAT WITH COLOR
I have been thinking for some time about doing something to my hair. When I was younger, I used to color it all the time and every time it gets to a cut or color that I get complimented on, I would decide to change it. These last couple of years our money situation has changed and I am not able to afford the luxuries I used to and am forced to consider whether or not I really want to do something different. So, the last couple of months I have been seriously considering what it is that I want to do with my hair. I have considered cutting it, but I really do like the length. My other alternative was to color it. With this thought in mind, I have pondered the price, who I wanted to do it, what colors I have been thinking about, and what might look the nicest. I watched What Not to Wear when we lived overseas and remember someone saying if my hair is to dark, as I am getting older, the shadows on my face are more pronounced. With this fact in the back of my mind, I thought about just getting highlights and lightening it. This will be more costly long term though because the roots have to be maintained to look nice. AHHHHHHH, the choices!
It is with all of this on my mind that I have been commuting to work and listening to the new Passion 2014 CD. Song after song has come on and I have memorized them all, about the great great love of God demonstrated on Calvary a day long ago. It was just this week though that it all really began to steep in my heart, like a tea bag in a hot cup of water. Slowly it continued to penetrate until I heard God speak to me about my hair. The response I received was, "Lisa, do you think I don't know what color looks nicest and most flattering on you? Do you think that MY coloring technique and style lacks training and sophistication? Each night as you sleep, I painstakingly put more highlights on the slender strands of hair on your head. I place them strategically and work hard to make sure they are perfectly done." I had never before considered God as my hairdresser. But as I considered this response, the Holy Spirit brought a couple of Scriptures to mind, with the first being:
1. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Ps. 139:14--To be "fearfully" made uses the same word as is used when we are commanded to "fear" the Lord, practice reverence for Him. God reverently made us! He was in AWE at His handiwork, you and me! The same wonder in the eyes of a parent as they first see their new born baby, is the same wonder in His eyes as gazes upon us! With this in mind, I can only imagine the painstaking perfection He would apply when highlighting my hair, with blond, red, gold, silver, gray or white, strand upon strand, night after night.
2. Next, He brought to mind the Scripture verse, "Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:7--God loves me so much, He never loses count of the number of hairs on my head!!!!!! I see how many are on my pillow when I wake up each morning. I notice the number of them that accumulate day after day and have to be cleaned out of the drain. And who could miss the number of them that stock up in my hairbrush and have to be cleaned out? Then there are the occasional hairs that drift slowly out of my head, onto my shirt, or lay gently on the car as I get out of the drivers seat, after commuting! With all of that loss, I couldn't keep count of how many hairs are on my head 24/7 and always have an accurate running total!!!! BUT my God does!!!!!!!!!!!~!
As I reflect upon some of the 1000 gifts I have experienced this week, I find myself thankful for men and women from England, who felt called to be missionaries to this great nation. I find myself thankful for their relationship with Jesus Christ, the passion it compels them to express and share with the world around them, and the marvelous way it opens my heart to hear the sweet expressions of love God whispers to me daily!
I had my hair trimmed this weekend and brought some styling product for it, but have decided to try a new hair dresser, One who I think knows more about me and cares more about how I look than anyone I have ever met. I am trusting God as He colors my hair, in this new season of life <3
It is with all of this on my mind that I have been commuting to work and listening to the new Passion 2014 CD. Song after song has come on and I have memorized them all, about the great great love of God demonstrated on Calvary a day long ago. It was just this week though that it all really began to steep in my heart, like a tea bag in a hot cup of water. Slowly it continued to penetrate until I heard God speak to me about my hair. The response I received was, "Lisa, do you think I don't know what color looks nicest and most flattering on you? Do you think that MY coloring technique and style lacks training and sophistication? Each night as you sleep, I painstakingly put more highlights on the slender strands of hair on your head. I place them strategically and work hard to make sure they are perfectly done." I had never before considered God as my hairdresser. But as I considered this response, the Holy Spirit brought a couple of Scriptures to mind, with the first being:
1. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Ps. 139:14--To be "fearfully" made uses the same word as is used when we are commanded to "fear" the Lord, practice reverence for Him. God reverently made us! He was in AWE at His handiwork, you and me! The same wonder in the eyes of a parent as they first see their new born baby, is the same wonder in His eyes as gazes upon us! With this in mind, I can only imagine the painstaking perfection He would apply when highlighting my hair, with blond, red, gold, silver, gray or white, strand upon strand, night after night.
2. Next, He brought to mind the Scripture verse, "Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:7--God loves me so much, He never loses count of the number of hairs on my head!!!!!! I see how many are on my pillow when I wake up each morning. I notice the number of them that accumulate day after day and have to be cleaned out of the drain. And who could miss the number of them that stock up in my hairbrush and have to be cleaned out? Then there are the occasional hairs that drift slowly out of my head, onto my shirt, or lay gently on the car as I get out of the drivers seat, after commuting! With all of that loss, I couldn't keep count of how many hairs are on my head 24/7 and always have an accurate running total!!!! BUT my God does!!!!!!!!!!!~!
As I reflect upon some of the 1000 gifts I have experienced this week, I find myself thankful for men and women from England, who felt called to be missionaries to this great nation. I find myself thankful for their relationship with Jesus Christ, the passion it compels them to express and share with the world around them, and the marvelous way it opens my heart to hear the sweet expressions of love God whispers to me daily!
I had my hair trimmed this weekend and brought some styling product for it, but have decided to try a new hair dresser, One who I think knows more about me and cares more about how I look than anyone I have ever met. I am trusting God as He colors my hair, in this new season of life <3
8/9/14
True Courage
Psalms 56:3 "What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."
I remember being a young child and always waking up in the middle of the night because I wanted a drink. After a few years of this, my mom and dad got tired of waking up to bring me a drink. I remember being 8 or so and my mother telling me I was old enough to go down to the kitchen and pour myself a drink. We lived in military housing, and our home was two stories. To get to the kitchen. I had to descend a short flight of stairs, go across a short landing, and then descend another short flight of stairs. Once I finished descending the first short flight of stairs, I could see down into the living room, and as I faced down the last flight and prepared to descend, I could see the hallway and the kitchen entrance across the hallway. Of course, everything was shrouded in complete darkness, and linked so black I couldn't see my hand in front of my face; that was even with the hall light on at the top of the stair case. I would standing on the landing, with the upstairs hall light behind me and the darkness before me, so thirsty I could taste the cold juice in my mouth. Terrified, I would remain frozen for a long time before I would take the plunge and sprint down the remaining stairs, into the darkness, dashing across the hall space, hurtling into the kitchen and fumbling for the light switch. There was really only one thing making those mad sprints possible! My mother had taught me a simple bible verse and told me that it would help me, it would give me the courage to do what I was frozen and terrified of doing, "Psalms 56:3 What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee Psalms 56:3!" That was my mantra, and the chant that poured out of my mouth as I faced the unknown. Over the years, there were times in my life when even that refrain was to much and it was the simple name "JESUS" giving me courage to press through my fear. Looking back, I can see how I thought the presence of courage would surely mean the absence of fear, but over the years I have learned that is not true at all.
Scripture has two primary words used for courage " 'amats" and "chazak". Both words are primitive root words, with no other origin. The first used in Scripture was used 12 times meaning "to strengthen". Other definitions from that root meant to be alert, to secure, to be bold, to persist in, to be determined, and to confirm oneself. The other word, chazak, was translated 48 times meaning to be strong, 47 times to repair, and 37 times to hold. In all of this, I have often heard and felt the Lord minister and speak to me true courage was not the absence of fear, but rather the trusting of Him to do exactly what He says He will do. To rely upon His strength to carry me. To allow His presence to surround me. To know He will never leave me, nor forsake me, and there is NOTHING He cannot do! The act of courage is done in the face of fear, and it strengthens my faith in God, and my relationship with Him. The act of courage is done in the face of fear, and displays a boldness, persistence, and determination as I enter His throne room for mercy in my time of need, confirming my love for Him and relationship with Him. It is the act of obedience in which I am repaired, as I hold fast to Him. Those mad dash sprints into the darkest rooms in the midnight hours prepared me to step out in faith and hold fast to unfailing love, but most importantly as He holds me fast in His unfailing love.
ABBA DADDY:
I am in absolute awe that You are the God of Angel Armies! I am absolutely humbled and amazed that You are on my side!!!!! You are faithful my God, faithful my King! Minister Your grace and mercy, Your amazing love, and faithful strength in each of our lives. May Your name be the refuge into which we run. May we know You as the shield around us and the lifter of our heads. May we know You as the God who has gone before us, who stands behind us, and who is always at our side. You are great and glorious my God! Let Your presence be the shadow in which we are hidden, as we remember Your great victory over sin and death, and rejoice in the wonder of the cross. Thank You for carrying us through the yesterdays, standing beside us through today, and going before us to make the crooked places straight, in which You will lead us tomorrow. Now, may we find rest, and comfort, as we are refreshed as the still waters and the green pastures with You. In Jesus' name, amen <3
I remember being a young child and always waking up in the middle of the night because I wanted a drink. After a few years of this, my mom and dad got tired of waking up to bring me a drink. I remember being 8 or so and my mother telling me I was old enough to go down to the kitchen and pour myself a drink. We lived in military housing, and our home was two stories. To get to the kitchen. I had to descend a short flight of stairs, go across a short landing, and then descend another short flight of stairs. Once I finished descending the first short flight of stairs, I could see down into the living room, and as I faced down the last flight and prepared to descend, I could see the hallway and the kitchen entrance across the hallway. Of course, everything was shrouded in complete darkness, and linked so black I couldn't see my hand in front of my face; that was even with the hall light on at the top of the stair case. I would standing on the landing, with the upstairs hall light behind me and the darkness before me, so thirsty I could taste the cold juice in my mouth. Terrified, I would remain frozen for a long time before I would take the plunge and sprint down the remaining stairs, into the darkness, dashing across the hall space, hurtling into the kitchen and fumbling for the light switch. There was really only one thing making those mad sprints possible! My mother had taught me a simple bible verse and told me that it would help me, it would give me the courage to do what I was frozen and terrified of doing, "Psalms 56:3 What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee Psalms 56:3!" That was my mantra, and the chant that poured out of my mouth as I faced the unknown. Over the years, there were times in my life when even that refrain was to much and it was the simple name "JESUS" giving me courage to press through my fear. Looking back, I can see how I thought the presence of courage would surely mean the absence of fear, but over the years I have learned that is not true at all.
ABBA DADDY:
I am in absolute awe that You are the God of Angel Armies! I am absolutely humbled and amazed that You are on my side!!!!! You are faithful my God, faithful my King! Minister Your grace and mercy, Your amazing love, and faithful strength in each of our lives. May Your name be the refuge into which we run. May we know You as the shield around us and the lifter of our heads. May we know You as the God who has gone before us, who stands behind us, and who is always at our side. You are great and glorious my God! Let Your presence be the shadow in which we are hidden, as we remember Your great victory over sin and death, and rejoice in the wonder of the cross. Thank You for carrying us through the yesterdays, standing beside us through today, and going before us to make the crooked places straight, in which You will lead us tomorrow. Now, may we find rest, and comfort, as we are refreshed as the still waters and the green pastures with You. In Jesus' name, amen <3
8/3/14
A word of hope to the brokenhearted
Psalms 34:18 "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed." NLT
If there is anything I hate, it is crying alone! I cannot stand imaging someone sitting in a room by themselves, with tears falling down their face, and no one to wrap their arms around them and hold them close. I cannot stand thinking of them silently weeping with on one there to witness the most secret tragedies of the heart and the story that they tell. I absolutely cringe to think of someone sitting helpless, spending themselves in tears, and knowing the next time they see a person there will be a smile, filled with what others perceive to be sunshine, and no one knowing what it cost them to bring that sacrifice. My heart breaks over this thought because I have been a witness to the one who weeps alone. I have also been the one, curled up in a tight ball, behind the bedroom door, silently weeping and wishing someone would pull me close and hold me tight. It is for this reason this verse has ministered such hope to me through the years. I have never felt closer to the Lord than when I was at my most broken and the tears fell non-stop. Truthfully, I could not have stopped the tears if I had tried. They came without warning, and were very inconvenient. They revealed all my fears, all my sorrows, and all my shame. I HATED that I could not hide them! It was only then that I learned how very close the Lord is to the brokenhearted.
I remember that night. It the was the first time I had experienced such a heartbreaking sorrow, struggle, and feeling of aloneness. I was not unfamiliar with sorrow and disappointment. I was well acquainted with tears, pain, and the discomfort it evoked in others to see it in someone. My masks were many and I was skilled at selecting which one to wear and how to keep it in place; however, that night was different. I sat alone, a single parent, in the dark bedroom, behind the bedroom door. I didn't even care I sat on the floor, my daughter asleep in the other room. My knees were curled up to my chest and my head hung on my knees while the tears fell and my heartbroken sobs rent the darkness. Completely lost, feeling more alone than ever before, I barely managed to use the name JESUS, but somehow the cry came forth. It was then I felt myself placed on His lap. I heard His heartbeat in my ear as I snuggled down in His arms, against His chest. His hand stroked my hair, and His lips felt warm on my hair. I knew that I knew that I knew that I knew, I was not alone and the Lord was nearer than I had ever known Him to be. I know I have a vivid imagination. I know I love poetry and all of the romantic things others say are nothing more than an ideal, but that night, in that moment, I met my Beloved in a way I had never known anyone before. I have cried many other tears, on many other nights, over much more heartbreak, since that time; however, my heart has always filled with such hope because of that night and the knowledge I have had that I am never alone. He is ALWAYS with me! I have found comfort and strength to know that I cannot erase heartbreak, and should trust what God can do with it. It has filled me with a faith that is exercised as a mother, as a grief worker, and as a minister, to know there is not one who cries without a witness to the secrets revealed in the tears, and the story they tell. I have learned the best rescue is not the one that removes me, but the One in who journeys with me assuring me of the destination all of the while.
ABBA DADDY: thank You that You are near enough to catch every tear that falls. Thank You that You are gentle enough to soothe our pain, wise enough to use it, and loving enough to listen to the stories the tears tell. As the day draws to a close, I ask that You, Great God, would wrap Your arms around this world tonight. And when You hear our cries, sing through the night, So we can join in Your chorus and sing along! In Jesus' name, amen <3
If there is anything I hate, it is crying alone! I cannot stand imaging someone sitting in a room by themselves, with tears falling down their face, and no one to wrap their arms around them and hold them close. I cannot stand thinking of them silently weeping with on one there to witness the most secret tragedies of the heart and the story that they tell. I absolutely cringe to think of someone sitting helpless, spending themselves in tears, and knowing the next time they see a person there will be a smile, filled with what others perceive to be sunshine, and no one knowing what it cost them to bring that sacrifice. My heart breaks over this thought because I have been a witness to the one who weeps alone. I have also been the one, curled up in a tight ball, behind the bedroom door, silently weeping and wishing someone would pull me close and hold me tight. It is for this reason this verse has ministered such hope to me through the years. I have never felt closer to the Lord than when I was at my most broken and the tears fell non-stop. Truthfully, I could not have stopped the tears if I had tried. They came without warning, and were very inconvenient. They revealed all my fears, all my sorrows, and all my shame. I HATED that I could not hide them! It was only then that I learned how very close the Lord is to the brokenhearted.
I remember that night. It the was the first time I had experienced such a heartbreaking sorrow, struggle, and feeling of aloneness. I was not unfamiliar with sorrow and disappointment. I was well acquainted with tears, pain, and the discomfort it evoked in others to see it in someone. My masks were many and I was skilled at selecting which one to wear and how to keep it in place; however, that night was different. I sat alone, a single parent, in the dark bedroom, behind the bedroom door. I didn't even care I sat on the floor, my daughter asleep in the other room. My knees were curled up to my chest and my head hung on my knees while the tears fell and my heartbroken sobs rent the darkness. Completely lost, feeling more alone than ever before, I barely managed to use the name JESUS, but somehow the cry came forth. It was then I felt myself placed on His lap. I heard His heartbeat in my ear as I snuggled down in His arms, against His chest. His hand stroked my hair, and His lips felt warm on my hair. I knew that I knew that I knew that I knew, I was not alone and the Lord was nearer than I had ever known Him to be. I know I have a vivid imagination. I know I love poetry and all of the romantic things others say are nothing more than an ideal, but that night, in that moment, I met my Beloved in a way I had never known anyone before. I have cried many other tears, on many other nights, over much more heartbreak, since that time; however, my heart has always filled with such hope because of that night and the knowledge I have had that I am never alone. He is ALWAYS with me! I have found comfort and strength to know that I cannot erase heartbreak, and should trust what God can do with it. It has filled me with a faith that is exercised as a mother, as a grief worker, and as a minister, to know there is not one who cries without a witness to the secrets revealed in the tears, and the story they tell. I have learned the best rescue is not the one that removes me, but the One in who journeys with me assuring me of the destination all of the while.
ABBA DADDY: thank You that You are near enough to catch every tear that falls. Thank You that You are gentle enough to soothe our pain, wise enough to use it, and loving enough to listen to the stories the tears tell. As the day draws to a close, I ask that You, Great God, would wrap Your arms around this world tonight. And when You hear our cries, sing through the night, So we can join in Your chorus and sing along! In Jesus' name, amen <3