i used to think i was a pretty good communicator. i used to think that i was pretty lucky to be able to form my thoughts, feelings and experiences into words and sentences... i could speak them fairly plainly, i thought, and others were usually able to catch my meaning without too many painful mis-communications or misunderstandings (other than the kinds that were intentional - we all know people like that...)
My biggest fear in communicating (i think) was probably in church - i lead worship lots of times, and i always had a fear that i would say something wrong - that my theology would be skewed and confuse someone or misrepresent my Father. My words in those situations would often come out too quickly and with very little confidence - smothered in disclaimers and apologies. Even then though... i would usually manage to scrape together the words to get across the essence of the thought i carried. Even in my fear, my meaning came through...
But over the past couple of years, my view of my own self - and my supposed communication abilities has changed so that what i thought about myself then, is almost unrecognizable to me now.
i obviously can't communicate.
i've had more people angry with me in the past couple of years than in the past couple of decades. i've seen more precious relationships broken than built, and i've seen my own words put back in front of me with completely different tone and meaning than i ever sent them out with - and honestly - it makes me look at this little blog and go, "No wonder you have gone so silent here..." Words that i hoped would bring healing, brought only misery. When i thought i spoke kindly, honestly and carefully... the opposite was heard - the opposite was felt... and i didn't know how else to speak, how else to be - it was impossible to be heard or understood, so i reacted the only way i knew how... More curling inward, more awkwardness with my own community, more trepidation in exposing my thoughts, my fears, my dreams... Literally, the other day, i listened in on some small talk from a sweet woman sitting next to me. She asked the usual, "So, how have you been?" of an older couple that she came across. "Genius..."i breathed jealously... "how does she know just what to say?" And it makes me laugh now, from inside my house, the opportunity for small-talk long gone, that her casual inquiries seemed so far beyond my ability to formulate and bring forth myself, but the last few years of dealing with broken relationships has brought out an insecurity that i never had before - and that i'm not sure is one that i'm interested in keeping around.
You see, i serve a God who loves people. Relationships are so important to Him that He sent His Son to earth to rescue me - so that we could have a relationship where i could bring my heart to Him - and He could speak to it... i love Him, and because i love Him - this communication phobia is just going to have to go. The enemy would love nothing more than to see me silenced - licking wounds and becoming sulky and awkward... But my Father? He has something else in mind.
On Sunday, our pastor said that God is using our circumstances (including our pasts) to prepare us to accomplish His vision for our lives. Ever heard of redemption? i guess that's what this is gonna feel like... all the brokenness... all the misunderstanding and pain... all of it - is salvageable to my King. i saw Him do it when i was 19, and i had broken my life with disobedience and careless sin... and He gave me a family to love and serve and grow with... That experience taught me that HE IS FAITHFUL. Our pastor's words reminded me... that God is resourceful - He never wastes.
So, if you see me on the street - and i take some time to wash around the words in my mouth before coming out with something like..."So... how have you been?" Please know - that that communication there? Is Kingdom work. i'm breaking free of this fear and condemnation that has been binding me lately. i love my Father, and i trust that as i press in to His Good Heart - i will learn to become more like Him and ultimately it is my goal that He will speak for me.
Speak for me, Father - strain out the me. Even before the thoughts become words - let them be shaped by the fruit of the Spirit that grows in my life. Let my words sprout and take shape from a heart that is full of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, self-control, faithfulness and gentleness... More surrender of self - less know it all wordsmith.
Less broken. More Redemption.
Speak for me.
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Monday, September 22, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
River Baby
At the end of my pregnancy with Elmer, when I would pray for him - for God's glory to be revealed through the life of my little son, for protection, for anointing, for Abba's hand to claim my little one as His...
I had a picture in my head for Elmer.
I still remember - being painfully swollen, but dropping to my knees - acknowledging the sovereignty of God in every area of my life- including as mother of Elmer, precious life in my womb. So much had been stripped away. My body was tender in those very last weeks. My joints were loose, preparing early for birth, my husband travelled more than usual, I relied heavily (without shame) on the kindnesses of friends - who carried me daily in prayer and in practical ways by feeding us, helping us and loving us.
So often when we're stripped bare, it's our best opportunity for communion with our Father... and I took that opportunity - with every dip of my eyelids, I found Him there - and I could agree with the Holy Spirit that the tiny son in my womb was created by God - knit together, fearfully and wonderfully made. All of his days ordained for the purposes of a Holy God, before one of them even came to be. Even though his form was hidden from me, he wasn't hidden from God. He wasn't created by the will of an earthly father - no... there was a bigger purpose even than that...
And then, I had that picture in my head.
The picture was a river.
The story of Moses' mother sending her son - surrendering him - down the river - would wreck me. And it was all I could do to imagine my fingers pried one by one off my precious one, understanding that His ways are better than mine.
***
There was another little life, 18 years ago growing in my womb. I was 19 and scared. My love for her was a gift from God and I would have fought to the death for her fragile life... I still would.
Last night, a pastor picked her out of a crowded room and spoke words of truth and blessing over her life. He asked those around her to lay their hands on her and he prayed for her life - for her influence... He spoke Matthew 5:14-16* over her, my precious girl - a light in this world... He spoke of her entering a new era of leadership as she becomes an adult in this next year -
and there's that river again...
And maybe most mothers understand that picture that I have in my head of a river. Maybe all of us choose to surrender our own will to God's in a mighty way when He sends these little ones to reside in our bodies, and we raise them to live their lives as living sacrifices (all of Romans 12) - holy and pleasing to God...
Sometimes I feel like my heart will burst with the magnitude of this holy work that He has given me in being wife to Neil and mama to these children...
And I send my own self down the river too - surrendering my all to Him.
*“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."
I had a picture in my head for Elmer.
I still remember - being painfully swollen, but dropping to my knees - acknowledging the sovereignty of God in every area of my life- including as mother of Elmer, precious life in my womb. So much had been stripped away. My body was tender in those very last weeks. My joints were loose, preparing early for birth, my husband travelled more than usual, I relied heavily (without shame) on the kindnesses of friends - who carried me daily in prayer and in practical ways by feeding us, helping us and loving us.
So often when we're stripped bare, it's our best opportunity for communion with our Father... and I took that opportunity - with every dip of my eyelids, I found Him there - and I could agree with the Holy Spirit that the tiny son in my womb was created by God - knit together, fearfully and wonderfully made. All of his days ordained for the purposes of a Holy God, before one of them even came to be. Even though his form was hidden from me, he wasn't hidden from God. He wasn't created by the will of an earthly father - no... there was a bigger purpose even than that...
And then, I had that picture in my head.
The picture was a river.
The story of Moses' mother sending her son - surrendering him - down the river - would wreck me. And it was all I could do to imagine my fingers pried one by one off my precious one, understanding that His ways are better than mine.
***
There was another little life, 18 years ago growing in my womb. I was 19 and scared. My love for her was a gift from God and I would have fought to the death for her fragile life... I still would.
Last night, a pastor picked her out of a crowded room and spoke words of truth and blessing over her life. He asked those around her to lay their hands on her and he prayed for her life - for her influence... He spoke Matthew 5:14-16* over her, my precious girl - a light in this world... He spoke of her entering a new era of leadership as she becomes an adult in this next year -
and there's that river again...
And maybe most mothers understand that picture that I have in my head of a river. Maybe all of us choose to surrender our own will to God's in a mighty way when He sends these little ones to reside in our bodies, and we raise them to live their lives as living sacrifices (all of Romans 12) - holy and pleasing to God...
Sometimes I feel like my heart will burst with the magnitude of this holy work that He has given me in being wife to Neil and mama to these children...
And I send my own self down the river too - surrendering my all to Him.
*“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."
Monday, November 11, 2013
praise because of Hope
i've been writing poetry on the sly...
It has been the type of prose that comes in the dark of night when sleep won't come and your imagination refuses to leave you alone.
I have a problem in that I over think *everything* - and in some seasons it creates so many imaginings that i wonder if i'll ever have a productive thought ever again in my whole life.
As I've been wrestling through some of the darkness in my own life - suddenly, this week - there was an awakening of hope. A friend sent me a text message at 8:48pm.. "How are you?"
I picked up my phone to respond, but my brain jumped in.... "Yeah.... how ARE you, paige?"
Hope whispered... "Tell her you feel me. Tell her that you are hopeful..."
Doubt washed over me, "No! Don't do that! Everything will change tomorrow - and you will be without hope and without even the dignity of knowing your own mind."
The hours passed and soon it was too late to text her back...
Morning broke - and I could see her text sill awaiting reply. But I still couldn't answer....
Ridiculous, I know.
Finally - at 2:29, I broke my silence. "Hopeful. & yes. That took me a whole day to write. Hope is so beautiful."
The bible is full of hope - (I love Romans) - and the Christian who keeps his eyes and heart focused on the hope that will not disappoint - is one who is living constantly in truth.
I read a quote the other day that, "Any area of your life that you are not experiencing hope is an area being influenced by a lie. There is ALWAYS hope."
I believe it. I sing it. I shout it. I live it.
i'm going to paste some bible references at the bottom of this post that might shed light on some of the thoughts that i've listed in point form below.
* Hope isn't something that I do all on my own. Hope is given to me by the Holy Spirit. I can ask Him for it when I need to.
* It's in times of darkness and uncertainty that I need hope - and even then - it's a fixing of eyes on the unseen. It's a hold my breath and keep my eyes on the horizon for the rising of the sun. It's a choice to believe even when I have yet to see. There is a beauty in the anticipation of hope - like a pause in music or a dancer who is motionless... a closing of the eyes - knowing the music will soon swell around me as I breathe - "here it comes..."
* Hope doesn't have to be full of sorrowful martyrdom. No. Hope should bring us joy - it should bring peace and patience to our waiting - and when we experience Hope by the power of the Holy Spirit - it should lead us to praise God. To really PRAISE GOD - as we faithfully continue to pray about the situations we're in.
* Hope doesn't mean that I just surrender and then lay down in the fetal position. Hope is a word that gives me the courage to act. i'm digging in, i'm learning and i'm putting one foot in front of the other - because I hope - that God is leading me through.
It has been so amazing lately to be able to understand that we're all in this together. We're all carrying burdens both seen and unseen. Some are struggling with things that are easy to talk about - and some are suffering in silence afraid of the stigma surrounding their mental illness, their failed marriage, their drug addiction or criminal charges. My sister shared a quote with me the other day, "Legalism says, 'what a shame'. Grace says, 'that could be me'. Humility says, 'that is me... " & I guess that's where i'm at these days. We're all messed up - we're all broken... and none of us... not one... is without hope.
It has been the type of prose that comes in the dark of night when sleep won't come and your imagination refuses to leave you alone.
I have a problem in that I over think *everything* - and in some seasons it creates so many imaginings that i wonder if i'll ever have a productive thought ever again in my whole life.
As I've been wrestling through some of the darkness in my own life - suddenly, this week - there was an awakening of hope. A friend sent me a text message at 8:48pm.. "How are you?"
I picked up my phone to respond, but my brain jumped in.... "Yeah.... how ARE you, paige?"
Hope whispered... "Tell her you feel me. Tell her that you are hopeful..."
Doubt washed over me, "No! Don't do that! Everything will change tomorrow - and you will be without hope and without even the dignity of knowing your own mind."
The hours passed and soon it was too late to text her back...
Morning broke - and I could see her text sill awaiting reply. But I still couldn't answer....
Ridiculous, I know.
Finally - at 2:29, I broke my silence. "Hopeful. & yes. That took me a whole day to write. Hope is so beautiful."
The bible is full of hope - (I love Romans) - and the Christian who keeps his eyes and heart focused on the hope that will not disappoint - is one who is living constantly in truth.
I read a quote the other day that, "Any area of your life that you are not experiencing hope is an area being influenced by a lie. There is ALWAYS hope."
I believe it. I sing it. I shout it. I live it.
i'm going to paste some bible references at the bottom of this post that might shed light on some of the thoughts that i've listed in point form below.
* Hope isn't something that I do all on my own. Hope is given to me by the Holy Spirit. I can ask Him for it when I need to.
* It's in times of darkness and uncertainty that I need hope - and even then - it's a fixing of eyes on the unseen. It's a hold my breath and keep my eyes on the horizon for the rising of the sun. It's a choice to believe even when I have yet to see. There is a beauty in the anticipation of hope - like a pause in music or a dancer who is motionless... a closing of the eyes - knowing the music will soon swell around me as I breathe - "here it comes..."
* Hope doesn't have to be full of sorrowful martyrdom. No. Hope should bring us joy - it should bring peace and patience to our waiting - and when we experience Hope by the power of the Holy Spirit - it should lead us to praise God. To really PRAISE GOD - as we faithfully continue to pray about the situations we're in.
* Hope doesn't mean that I just surrender and then lay down in the fetal position. Hope is a word that gives me the courage to act. i'm digging in, i'm learning and i'm putting one foot in front of the other - because I hope - that God is leading me through.
It has been so amazing lately to be able to understand that we're all in this together. We're all carrying burdens both seen and unseen. Some are struggling with things that are easy to talk about - and some are suffering in silence afraid of the stigma surrounding their mental illness, their failed marriage, their drug addiction or criminal charges. My sister shared a quote with me the other day, "Legalism says, 'what a shame'. Grace says, 'that could be me'. Humility says, 'that is me... " & I guess that's where i'm at these days. We're all messed up - we're all broken... and none of us... not one... is without hope.
Psalm 43:5
New International Version (NIV)
5 Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
Psalm 71:14
New International Version (NIV)
14 As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.
I will praise you more and more.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
New International Version (NIV)
16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
Romans 12:12
New International Version (NIV)
12 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Romans 15:13
New International Version (NIV)
13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Friday, October 18, 2013
His Praise
Yeah... i'm a Christ follower.
I love my Father - and I know that He's the One who holds me fast.
I'm learning to praise... and in this season, he's teaching me why I praise. I still have so much to learn, but this unhindered, effortless praise that has begun to flow from my notoriously stingy heart... i firmly believe that it's protecting me.
"Not like that daughter," He instructs me, correcting my praise that would tend to focus on my circumstances or my own position before Him. i see my praises coming weak and ineffective as i 'praise in my circumstance' or 'even though i'm broken, i'll praise You...'
Gently, He corrects... "Like this..."
And I see myself, arms thrown wide, heart fairly leaping from my chest, focussing my eyes solely on Him.
Worthy,
Rescuer,
Faithful,
Redeemer,
Friend, Father, Companion,
Reigning King,
Really... honestly... Reigning KING!
The One who calls me by name,
my provider,
my healer,
my shepherd,
my banner of LOVE and PROTECTION...
And I gotta praise. I have to sing, i have to break, i am changed.
And sometimes there might be a tiny baby clinging to my chest as my eyes meet His... There might be a teenager whose silence is both frightening and perplexing. There might be a busy husband, distracted and aloof...
And yet He calls.
"Praise me..."
And sometimes i want to wade shallow, i want to sing instead of moaning and weeping, i want to praise from the basement... not the rooftops.
Persistently He beckons,
"Praise me..."
And quite frequently i feel lost - both old irrelevant and at the same time inexperienced and immature... not yet arrived. Oh God, will i ever arrive? Am i even making any progress? What am i doing? Where are we going? Am i accomplishing even one tiny thing that will last?
He replies,
"I want you to praise me."
And so i do.
And it's almost violent - the breaking and tearing in my chest as i surrender to Him. No trying harder - just surrendering more. No gentle swaying bending - it's a horrifying splintering roar as all that i am is changed when i allow myself to encounter... to really encounter... God.
And praise is the vehicle that brings me to Him - and His Glory is the only thing that ever mattered at all.
I love my Father - and I know that He's the One who holds me fast.
I'm learning to praise... and in this season, he's teaching me why I praise. I still have so much to learn, but this unhindered, effortless praise that has begun to flow from my notoriously stingy heart... i firmly believe that it's protecting me.
"Not like that daughter," He instructs me, correcting my praise that would tend to focus on my circumstances or my own position before Him. i see my praises coming weak and ineffective as i 'praise in my circumstance' or 'even though i'm broken, i'll praise You...'
Gently, He corrects... "Like this..."
And I see myself, arms thrown wide, heart fairly leaping from my chest, focussing my eyes solely on Him.
Worthy,
Rescuer,
Faithful,
Redeemer,
Friend, Father, Companion,
Reigning King,
Really... honestly... Reigning KING!
The One who calls me by name,
my provider,
my healer,
my shepherd,
my banner of LOVE and PROTECTION...
And I gotta praise. I have to sing, i have to break, i am changed.
And sometimes there might be a tiny baby clinging to my chest as my eyes meet His... There might be a teenager whose silence is both frightening and perplexing. There might be a busy husband, distracted and aloof...
And yet He calls.
"Praise me..."
And sometimes i want to wade shallow, i want to sing instead of moaning and weeping, i want to praise from the basement... not the rooftops.
Persistently He beckons,
"Praise me..."
And quite frequently i feel lost - both old irrelevant and at the same time inexperienced and immature... not yet arrived. Oh God, will i ever arrive? Am i even making any progress? What am i doing? Where are we going? Am i accomplishing even one tiny thing that will last?
He replies,
"I want you to praise me."
And so i do.
And it's almost violent - the breaking and tearing in my chest as i surrender to Him. No trying harder - just surrendering more. No gentle swaying bending - it's a horrifying splintering roar as all that i am is changed when i allow myself to encounter... to really encounter... God.
And praise is the vehicle that brings me to Him - and His Glory is the only thing that ever mattered at all.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
on Faith
I've always thought that I had plenty of faith. I believed in a God who parted the Red Sea, filled the bellies of his people wandering through the wilderness. This same God raised the dead, healed the blind and made the lame walk... I believed all that, right?
I did - & I do...
But this week, in a moment of prayer, I realized how very fragile and frail my faith really is... Do I believe Him when He speaks? Do I obey when He calls? Do I trust when the circumstances terrify me? Do I believe it enough to change my course of action when He directs? Enough that I would speak with confidence the prophetic word He gave? Enough that I wouldn't wince and wonder... "What if He doesn't do it? What if that wasn't God? What if what I think is the voice of God is just wishful thinking?
And then I wondered... where is my faith really? When my doubt causes me to shun a change in plans - when i allow my fear to choose my path - (even when I've been told differently) and when His words to me remain unuttered because i'm not certain He'll come through...
There's a story from 2 Kings that won't leave me alone this week.
15 When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. “Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?” the servant asked.
16 “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”
17 And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.
i want my Father to open my eyes... i'm so weak and so shamefully full of unbelief.
It's time for 40 Days for Life again. Continuing my journey in learning to pray - so grateful for a Father who wants me to grow - and gives me opportunities to listen and obey.
I did - & I do...
But this week, in a moment of prayer, I realized how very fragile and frail my faith really is... Do I believe Him when He speaks? Do I obey when He calls? Do I trust when the circumstances terrify me? Do I believe it enough to change my course of action when He directs? Enough that I would speak with confidence the prophetic word He gave? Enough that I wouldn't wince and wonder... "What if He doesn't do it? What if that wasn't God? What if what I think is the voice of God is just wishful thinking?
And then I wondered... where is my faith really? When my doubt causes me to shun a change in plans - when i allow my fear to choose my path - (even when I've been told differently) and when His words to me remain unuttered because i'm not certain He'll come through...
There's a story from 2 Kings that won't leave me alone this week.
15 When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. “Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?” the servant asked.
16 “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”
17 And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.
i want my Father to open my eyes... i'm so weak and so shamefully full of unbelief.
It's time for 40 Days for Life again. Continuing my journey in learning to pray - so grateful for a Father who wants me to grow - and gives me opportunities to listen and obey.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
egypt
It was my last time leading worship in my home church until the little baby boy arrives... so i got the chance to sit through most of all three services...
Our pastor is working through a series on the life of Moses - and it has been good, meaty stuff. In a breath of his sermon today, he gently offered the challenge, "When the Israelites ran into difficulty, their first impulse was to go back to Egypt... what do you turn to when things get difficult?" He suggested that for some, it might be a habit of alcohol... pornography... or what he personally struggled with; apathy and laziness.
And as i sat with my swollen belly resting uncomfortably on my lap, i wondered what my Egypt might be...
i wondered if it was my habit to compulsively over think anything and everything, or if it was a weakness that had not yet been revealed to me, but was apparent and obvious to everyone around me...
And then i hit on it...
i was pretty sure that my Egypt was self-pity.
"Unloved" is my heart's petulant cry when met with difficulty, and with a sigh of acceptance, i meekly turn from freedom and accept the 'comfort' of the familiar slavery of self pity. i decided to watch for it - to guard against it - to remember that when difficulty comes, He sees, He hears and He has compassion on me... i'm fed, clothed and so tenderly led - and i truly do want to walk in freedom. Loved.
i didn't have to wait long to be tested in my resolve.
At the end of a long day, i sat down with a flock of young lambs who have no idea the vulnerability that the 39th week of pregnancy brings. My hands ache - a new pregnancy symptom i've never had before - and the end of the day shows my very real weaknesses as my body slows into a gentler, more careful gait. I have had a beautiful, healthy pregnancy - but any pregnancy is hard work. It's physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding... bringing me again and again to depend on others and surrendering my own comfort and vanity for the sake of another tiny person.
I've loved becoming "that house" - full of my own children and the children of others. I love getting to know them, letting them into our lives and getting a peek into theirs. My life has been enriched and my faith has been fed by the extra teens that sneak into my house, laze on my couch and have wormed their way so completely into my heart...
They were playing music... and then the little voice of one of my own lambs chirped, "My friend's dad told me that you and dad should stop having naps together..."
"Yeah, my mom says you guys have too many kids... You should stop."
And i smiled... but tears welled up in my eyes... And i *know*... these are gentle jests... These are my friends - and these little lambs don't know that sometimes i feel tired swimming upstream - so constantly called to a different shore...
And i couldn't respond...
"Yeah," continued one of my own little lambs... "i'm getting tired already of the comments, 'is your mom about ready to be done yet?' or, 'You guys already have such a big family, you must hate it...' It's like, enough already!"
Her eyes followed me as i got up to sweep and i think she guessed what might lie behind the plastic mask of a smile on my face...
i know these comments are idle - and they mean nothing to me - or to the tiny one i carry... and they certainly take nothing away from this marathon journey of pregnancy, and these final aching days as we prepare to cross the finish line... And honestly? People have been so kind... too kind... like, bend over backwards, *over blessed* kind... and i *know that i know that i know*... that there isn't one scrap of malice or cruelty in these words... but in an instant...
i began to turn back to Egypt.
"Hey daughter... want freedom?"
He whispers...
"Yes, Papa..." i pray... i'm sweeping the crumbs from beneath my large family dining table... swallowing the lump in my throat and cursing the hormones that make my emotions run far too close to the surface.
And in that moment, I choose to raise my eyes above the teasing confusion of my fellow Israelite wanderers to the majestic sight of fire and cloud leading us Homeward in the sky... I beg Him to speak truth.
And suddenly i'm filled with a certainty... that this boy that I carry, is God's workmanship... Before he was formed in the womb, God knew him... Abba Father... is knitting him together in the secret place to do good things. The work i'm doing? It's not in vain... Jehovah-Nissi - my banner - is using me, His daughter. My willingness to carry this little one for His sake is not something to be scorned or looked down upon... it is a beautiful work, and one that will carry eternal consequences... and Jehovah-Raah - my shepherd - is so gently leading me...
Out of Egypt...
Out of slavery...
Out of self pity...
Into freedom.
Our pastor is working through a series on the life of Moses - and it has been good, meaty stuff. In a breath of his sermon today, he gently offered the challenge, "When the Israelites ran into difficulty, their first impulse was to go back to Egypt... what do you turn to when things get difficult?" He suggested that for some, it might be a habit of alcohol... pornography... or what he personally struggled with; apathy and laziness.
And as i sat with my swollen belly resting uncomfortably on my lap, i wondered what my Egypt might be...
i wondered if it was my habit to compulsively over think anything and everything, or if it was a weakness that had not yet been revealed to me, but was apparent and obvious to everyone around me...
And then i hit on it...
i was pretty sure that my Egypt was self-pity.
"Unloved" is my heart's petulant cry when met with difficulty, and with a sigh of acceptance, i meekly turn from freedom and accept the 'comfort' of the familiar slavery of self pity. i decided to watch for it - to guard against it - to remember that when difficulty comes, He sees, He hears and He has compassion on me... i'm fed, clothed and so tenderly led - and i truly do want to walk in freedom. Loved.
i didn't have to wait long to be tested in my resolve.
At the end of a long day, i sat down with a flock of young lambs who have no idea the vulnerability that the 39th week of pregnancy brings. My hands ache - a new pregnancy symptom i've never had before - and the end of the day shows my very real weaknesses as my body slows into a gentler, more careful gait. I have had a beautiful, healthy pregnancy - but any pregnancy is hard work. It's physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding... bringing me again and again to depend on others and surrendering my own comfort and vanity for the sake of another tiny person.
I've loved becoming "that house" - full of my own children and the children of others. I love getting to know them, letting them into our lives and getting a peek into theirs. My life has been enriched and my faith has been fed by the extra teens that sneak into my house, laze on my couch and have wormed their way so completely into my heart...
They were playing music... and then the little voice of one of my own lambs chirped, "My friend's dad told me that you and dad should stop having naps together..."
"Yeah, my mom says you guys have too many kids... You should stop."
And i smiled... but tears welled up in my eyes... And i *know*... these are gentle jests... These are my friends - and these little lambs don't know that sometimes i feel tired swimming upstream - so constantly called to a different shore...
And i couldn't respond...
"Yeah," continued one of my own little lambs... "i'm getting tired already of the comments, 'is your mom about ready to be done yet?' or, 'You guys already have such a big family, you must hate it...' It's like, enough already!"
Her eyes followed me as i got up to sweep and i think she guessed what might lie behind the plastic mask of a smile on my face...
i know these comments are idle - and they mean nothing to me - or to the tiny one i carry... and they certainly take nothing away from this marathon journey of pregnancy, and these final aching days as we prepare to cross the finish line... And honestly? People have been so kind... too kind... like, bend over backwards, *over blessed* kind... and i *know that i know that i know*... that there isn't one scrap of malice or cruelty in these words... but in an instant...
i began to turn back to Egypt.
"Hey daughter... want freedom?"
He whispers...
"Yes, Papa..." i pray... i'm sweeping the crumbs from beneath my large family dining table... swallowing the lump in my throat and cursing the hormones that make my emotions run far too close to the surface.
And in that moment, I choose to raise my eyes above the teasing confusion of my fellow Israelite wanderers to the majestic sight of fire and cloud leading us Homeward in the sky... I beg Him to speak truth.
And suddenly i'm filled with a certainty... that this boy that I carry, is God's workmanship... Before he was formed in the womb, God knew him... Abba Father... is knitting him together in the secret place to do good things. The work i'm doing? It's not in vain... Jehovah-Nissi - my banner - is using me, His daughter. My willingness to carry this little one for His sake is not something to be scorned or looked down upon... it is a beautiful work, and one that will carry eternal consequences... and Jehovah-Raah - my shepherd - is so gently leading me...
Out of Egypt...
Out of slavery...
Out of self pity...
Into freedom.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
love encounter
i blogged this entry over on the 40 Days for Life blog today. Will you pray for us? God is moving - and i want to be so sensitive to His voice as i do my best to serve Him...
If you haven't checked out the blog yet, here's the link: www.calgary40dfl.blogspot.com We're on day 8!
**************************************************
My midwife is over in the same corner of the city as the abortion clinic.
And so... knowing i had to make that trip, i made plans to go pray at the clinic after my appointment was over.
My midwife had another midwife assisting who is in the process of getting certified in Canada - she's fresh from Nigeria - and her long dark fingers palpated my tiny son in the womb. She wore a smile on her face as she told me with her thick accent, "He's wiggling..."
They took forever to find his heartbeat - and it took both of them - sighing over the inconvenience of my anterior placenta - and i couldn't help but grin at my tiny son, knowing he had nothing to do with it's placement but thinking it would be funny if he did. When finally they did find it, my midwife gave a wry laugh and said, "Oh! It's actually a girl!"
And i laughed too, "i won't cry either way..."
i grabbed my paperwork for my third trimester blood work and walked quickly to my car. i pulled on my gloves, scarf, toque and zipped my jacket to my chin... it was cloudy, and the cold felt like it wanted to seep through every possible route straight to my chilled flesh.
i pulled around the final bend - and found the sidewalk bare - like my Father had cleared the space for an intimate gathering of just us two. i parked my little car and grabbed my sign out of the back... it's my testimony and it reads, "i was scared too... she was worth it." And if i tuck a 40 Days for Life sign underneath it, i can hold them both at the same time...
i grabbed my earphones and plugged them in to my ears - i sometimes listen to worship music as i pray - to help keep me focussed and soft.
i don't know that i could describe what followed as anything other than a love encounter... Anyone familiar with Jesus Culture (the band) - or just my JESUS - might understand what i'm talking about... i felt Him there and i spent time meditating on the scripture verse that had been given to me by two different people in as many days....
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. 1 Corinthians 13:1-8
And then the one that i am learning seems inextricably linked...
1 John 1:19
WE LOVE BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US.
(If that's too succinct for you, go look up the surrounding verses... powerful stuff...)
So, i'm standing there on the sidewalk... and i'm realizing that the only reason i'm capable of love at all... is because of Him... and He is faithfully showing me how... and i'm listening to Kim Walker belt out, "He loves us - oh how He loves us!!"
And i see women - dropped off - walking through those doors alone...
And i know that as much as i want to encounter God... God wants to encounter them...
And for this same reason, i must want to encounter them too, to love them, to reach out to them... because my presence here means nothing without love. My testimony is just ink on posterboard without love. My reason for love is inescapable, unchangeable, irrevocable - because that's how God is... He loved me first & His love never fails...
Just as i was finishing my hour, a man pulled up in a nice car. He parked by the curb instead of in the parking lot and fairly ran inside. He was well dressed, with a suit and tie - he looked to be at least my age - far beyond the typical "crisis pregnancy" age. Soon, he came out again, helping a woman who was as well dressed as her husband. Her pretty dress coat was buttoned to her neck and she looked as prim as any woman who sits beside me in our little white collar suburban church on a Sunday morning... except she was obviously in pain. It took them a while to make it to the car, and gently he opened the door and helped her lower herself carefully to the seat. And i watched - and ached - and loved from across that street.
Abortions happen all the time in our city - all for different reasons, and under different circumstances. The only thing that never changes is death. Abortion masquarades as a cure all for so many circumstances: a special needs child in the womb, a poverty stricken family, yet. another. female child, a single mother, a highschool pregnancy, an abusive relationship, a terrifying rape... But the secret is that abortion does nothing to cure the roots of these "problems"... the result of abortion is not a cure all, it's a dead child. That's all. An abortion doesn't change the circumstances or turn back time... it just kills.
And i ache as i watch woman after woman leave that clinic in 'hour one' of their new reality. There is no judgement - there is only mercy on our side of the street... As a mother myself, i know the incredible transformative, overwhelming love that a mother feels for her child. The day that the realization of what she has done hits - i can only imagine the agony, the remorse and the grief that these women bear... i've seen it on the faces of women who have told me their abortion stories... even decades after they happened. It's not a pain to be wished on anyone.
Yes, i want to be a sign of hope to the families that book appointments at the clinic. My dream is that they'll turn around and not go through with the scheduled abortion. But for the ones that do go through with it... i feel it deep in my soul... *we need to be there as a sign of mercy*. We need to be there even more for them. My Father loves them...
And so do i.
The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the Lord,
the splendor of our God.
If you haven't checked out the blog yet, here's the link: www.calgary40dfl.blogspot.com We're on day 8!
**************************************************
My midwife is over in the same corner of the city as the abortion clinic.
And so... knowing i had to make that trip, i made plans to go pray at the clinic after my appointment was over.
My midwife had another midwife assisting who is in the process of getting certified in Canada - she's fresh from Nigeria - and her long dark fingers palpated my tiny son in the womb. She wore a smile on her face as she told me with her thick accent, "He's wiggling..."
They took forever to find his heartbeat - and it took both of them - sighing over the inconvenience of my anterior placenta - and i couldn't help but grin at my tiny son, knowing he had nothing to do with it's placement but thinking it would be funny if he did. When finally they did find it, my midwife gave a wry laugh and said, "Oh! It's actually a girl!"
And i laughed too, "i won't cry either way..."
i grabbed my paperwork for my third trimester blood work and walked quickly to my car. i pulled on my gloves, scarf, toque and zipped my jacket to my chin... it was cloudy, and the cold felt like it wanted to seep through every possible route straight to my chilled flesh.
i pulled around the final bend - and found the sidewalk bare - like my Father had cleared the space for an intimate gathering of just us two. i parked my little car and grabbed my sign out of the back... it's my testimony and it reads, "i was scared too... she was worth it." And if i tuck a 40 Days for Life sign underneath it, i can hold them both at the same time...
i grabbed my earphones and plugged them in to my ears - i sometimes listen to worship music as i pray - to help keep me focussed and soft.
i don't know that i could describe what followed as anything other than a love encounter... Anyone familiar with Jesus Culture (the band) - or just my JESUS - might understand what i'm talking about... i felt Him there and i spent time meditating on the scripture verse that had been given to me by two different people in as many days....
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. 1 Corinthians 13:1-8
And then the one that i am learning seems inextricably linked...
1 John 1:19
WE LOVE BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US.
(If that's too succinct for you, go look up the surrounding verses... powerful stuff...)
So, i'm standing there on the sidewalk... and i'm realizing that the only reason i'm capable of love at all... is because of Him... and He is faithfully showing me how... and i'm listening to Kim Walker belt out, "He loves us - oh how He loves us!!"
And i see women - dropped off - walking through those doors alone...
And i know that as much as i want to encounter God... God wants to encounter them...
And for this same reason, i must want to encounter them too, to love them, to reach out to them... because my presence here means nothing without love. My testimony is just ink on posterboard without love. My reason for love is inescapable, unchangeable, irrevocable - because that's how God is... He loved me first & His love never fails...
Just as i was finishing my hour, a man pulled up in a nice car. He parked by the curb instead of in the parking lot and fairly ran inside. He was well dressed, with a suit and tie - he looked to be at least my age - far beyond the typical "crisis pregnancy" age. Soon, he came out again, helping a woman who was as well dressed as her husband. Her pretty dress coat was buttoned to her neck and she looked as prim as any woman who sits beside me in our little white collar suburban church on a Sunday morning... except she was obviously in pain. It took them a while to make it to the car, and gently he opened the door and helped her lower herself carefully to the seat. And i watched - and ached - and loved from across that street.
Abortions happen all the time in our city - all for different reasons, and under different circumstances. The only thing that never changes is death. Abortion masquarades as a cure all for so many circumstances: a special needs child in the womb, a poverty stricken family, yet. another. female child, a single mother, a highschool pregnancy, an abusive relationship, a terrifying rape... But the secret is that abortion does nothing to cure the roots of these "problems"... the result of abortion is not a cure all, it's a dead child. That's all. An abortion doesn't change the circumstances or turn back time... it just kills.
And i ache as i watch woman after woman leave that clinic in 'hour one' of their new reality. There is no judgement - there is only mercy on our side of the street... As a mother myself, i know the incredible transformative, overwhelming love that a mother feels for her child. The day that the realization of what she has done hits - i can only imagine the agony, the remorse and the grief that these women bear... i've seen it on the faces of women who have told me their abortion stories... even decades after they happened. It's not a pain to be wished on anyone.
Yes, i want to be a sign of hope to the families that book appointments at the clinic. My dream is that they'll turn around and not go through with the scheduled abortion. But for the ones that do go through with it... i feel it deep in my soul... *we need to be there as a sign of mercy*. We need to be there even more for them. My Father loves them...
And so do i.
The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the Lord,
the splendor of our God.
3 Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;
4 say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.”
steady the knees that give way;
4 say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.”
5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
6 Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
7 The burning sand will become a pool,
the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
6 Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
7 The burning sand will become a pool,
the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
Isaiah 35:1-7
Dear Lord, I pray these verses from Isaiah for women who have suffered an abortion. They know the desert. Their souls are parched, their knees give way, their hearts are fearful. Do for them, Lord what you have done for {others}. Open their eyes and ears, quench their thirst, fill them until they are bursting with your life and shouting for joy. Use me, Lord, in whatever way you will, to invite them to your streams in the desert. Amen. (prayer is an excerpt from book, 40 Days for Life, available on amazon)
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
annointing
This Sunday, i needed encouragement.
It felt like... i was walking with my Dad.
i was walking and my hand was in His... and i glanced up into His face - & He, looking down into mine - saw my need without me saying a word.
i went to say hello to my friend - and her dad walked up to us both.
"When i see you... i see my mom..." He spoke thickly to me... this ancient man giving what was obviously a compliment to this middle aged mama...
And then he layed his large hand on my head - and prayed a blessing... an anointing... on me. Little ones twisting around in my skirts paused - and i closed my eyes and received this word of Truth from my Father.... tears pricked my closed eyes and i stood - accepting this baptism of prayer like a child under a water spout - eager for a soaking
It reminded me of other words spoken over me - poured like a venom.
And i remember being certain that they weren't Truth.
And if i weren't walking hand in hand with my Papa... could i tell one from the other? Would i have received one with the same reflex as the other? Would i have allowed that poison to seep into my pores... through my skin and bones... right down into my very soul?
It felt like... i was walking with my Dad.
i was walking and my hand was in His... and i glanced up into His face - & He, looking down into mine - saw my need without me saying a word.
i went to say hello to my friend - and her dad walked up to us both.
"When i see you... i see my mom..." He spoke thickly to me... this ancient man giving what was obviously a compliment to this middle aged mama...
And then he layed his large hand on my head - and prayed a blessing... an anointing... on me. Little ones twisting around in my skirts paused - and i closed my eyes and received this word of Truth from my Father.... tears pricked my closed eyes and i stood - accepting this baptism of prayer like a child under a water spout - eager for a soaking
It reminded me of other words spoken over me - poured like a venom.
And i remember being certain that they weren't Truth.
And if i weren't walking hand in hand with my Papa... could i tell one from the other? Would i have received one with the same reflex as the other? Would i have allowed that poison to seep into my pores... through my skin and bones... right down into my very soul?
Monday, January 7, 2013
the air i breathe
Last year was a good year. A hard year, yes - but hard is often good when there's growth to gain and i do feel like i've grown.
i took my parent's divorce really, really hard. i lost a precious relationship. i lost a tiny baby... And then a myriad of insignificant struggles that just added to the weariness of the continuation of the journey.
And a lot of the year i felt like i was in a sandstorm. Just little bits of things flying in my face, taking out pieces of exposed flesh and making me cover my eyes and face, trying to protect myself.
It made for less blogging - more clinging.
i was talking to my friend the other day - it seems to me, she has been in a bit of a sandstorm this year too - and i said, "Do you ever just want to say to God, 'Hey, i already learned this bit, remember? i've got that one covered - you didn't need to take again to show me, i didn't need this pain to teach me... i had it already - this sorrow is a bit of a pointless sorrow, isn't it, Father?'"
And my friend kind of sighed a bit in recognition of that questioning emotion, but then spoke a deeper, less arrogant truth...
"It reminds me how desperately i need Him. It reminds me how utterly broken, unable and prone to sin i am."
And i know it's so - but it took a few more days for it to really sink in for me.
We were in church - and the youth leading worship sang the song, This is the Air i Breathe...
And i couldn't get out the first word.
Oh, sustaining Air i breathe, Daily Bread, One who rescues me in desperation... Only a year like that; with a constant sandstorm - could so beautifully illustrate my minute by minute need for my Saviour.
i opened my mouth to sing the second verse, but no sound came out and i gave up, sank to my seat, and acknowledged that without Him... i'm bankrupt.
Almost feels like a corner turned with this Christmas season... A season of painful anniversaries was over - and i kept repeating to myself the truths that i had uncovered in the dark year - even when they didn't feel like the truth.
i welcomed the New Year with a sigh of relief and joy; with a deep, profound sweetness that comes from knowing i love - and i'm loved too.
And so i'll learn it again, if you choose to teach it again, Father. i'll be reminded over and over of my brokenness and how desperately i need you. And when you bring me into the sandstorm, i'll remember to go back again and again to my source - my sustenance...
the air i breathe.
i took my parent's divorce really, really hard. i lost a precious relationship. i lost a tiny baby... And then a myriad of insignificant struggles that just added to the weariness of the continuation of the journey.
And a lot of the year i felt like i was in a sandstorm. Just little bits of things flying in my face, taking out pieces of exposed flesh and making me cover my eyes and face, trying to protect myself.
It made for less blogging - more clinging.
i was talking to my friend the other day - it seems to me, she has been in a bit of a sandstorm this year too - and i said, "Do you ever just want to say to God, 'Hey, i already learned this bit, remember? i've got that one covered - you didn't need to take again to show me, i didn't need this pain to teach me... i had it already - this sorrow is a bit of a pointless sorrow, isn't it, Father?'"
And my friend kind of sighed a bit in recognition of that questioning emotion, but then spoke a deeper, less arrogant truth...
"It reminds me how desperately i need Him. It reminds me how utterly broken, unable and prone to sin i am."
And i know it's so - but it took a few more days for it to really sink in for me.
We were in church - and the youth leading worship sang the song, This is the Air i Breathe...
And i couldn't get out the first word.
Oh, sustaining Air i breathe, Daily Bread, One who rescues me in desperation... Only a year like that; with a constant sandstorm - could so beautifully illustrate my minute by minute need for my Saviour.
i opened my mouth to sing the second verse, but no sound came out and i gave up, sank to my seat, and acknowledged that without Him... i'm bankrupt.
Almost feels like a corner turned with this Christmas season... A season of painful anniversaries was over - and i kept repeating to myself the truths that i had uncovered in the dark year - even when they didn't feel like the truth.
i welcomed the New Year with a sigh of relief and joy; with a deep, profound sweetness that comes from knowing i love - and i'm loved too.
And so i'll learn it again, if you choose to teach it again, Father. i'll be reminded over and over of my brokenness and how desperately i need you. And when you bring me into the sandstorm, i'll remember to go back again and again to my source - my sustenance...
the air i breathe.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
hero worship
i've always been a little prone to hero worship.
i grew up the youngest of three girls - i was born with average smarts to two really brilliant parents.
There was always so much to admire - so much to aspire to - so many beautiful qualities in so many available heroes!
This morning, in church... i was remembering the little girl i was. i had poker straight pale blond hair - cut blunt for most of my childhood. i had enormous glasses and a gap between my front teeth that my mom told me looked glamorous.
Our pastor was talking about how faith is such a necessary part of the Christian walk... He described faith as "choosing the eternal over the temporal..."
And i thought of that little girl - worshipping the temporal, the human, the frail and the sinful. And i wanted to whisper in her ears; "Just a little higher... fix your eyes a little higher up, farther in... The eternal is there. HE'S the one worthy of your hero worship, HE'S the never-failing, HE'S the consistent, HE'S the one who sees your soul and knows your very being. HE'S the One whose love is real and whose promises never fail."
And i think too, of my own blondie girls and boys - looking to their mama and papa and siblings and maybe finding a hero - an imperfect, fallible hero who instead of absorbing that praise, wants to reflect Him and point continually to the only One worthy...
God, give us the faith to choose the eternal over the temporal!
And it's not that there aren't qualities in humanity that aren't admirable - it's not that these qualities don't point us to our Father, who bestowed them as gifts on the broken human vessels who bear them... but worshipping the temporal will only bring you pain. Thinking that other human beings are capable of flawless agape love will devastate you when you see that it's not true - that they lie, their promises get broken, their words are true sometimes - and at other times they're empty and false, so it's like you're walking along one of those wooden bridges in movies with half the boards missing.
And i smiled at God as we talked during the service and i asked Him, "So, what's the point then? i know that relationships are important, *people* are important... How do i reconcile that knowledge with my desire to just give up on all humanity - to shut my eyes and my heart to everyone around me and to only love You?"
And i see myself clinging to my Saviour... starting with just the tiniest threads that i know to be true - and in faith, building from there. i see myself opening up again, trying again, failing again - because in this life we'll have trouble, and being a believer is a life of sacrifice. i see myself believing with faith that Truth will prove to be better - the the eternal can be chosen over the temporal and that my Papa will continue to grow me.
i grew up the youngest of three girls - i was born with average smarts to two really brilliant parents.
There was always so much to admire - so much to aspire to - so many beautiful qualities in so many available heroes!
This morning, in church... i was remembering the little girl i was. i had poker straight pale blond hair - cut blunt for most of my childhood. i had enormous glasses and a gap between my front teeth that my mom told me looked glamorous.
Our pastor was talking about how faith is such a necessary part of the Christian walk... He described faith as "choosing the eternal over the temporal..."
And i thought of that little girl - worshipping the temporal, the human, the frail and the sinful. And i wanted to whisper in her ears; "Just a little higher... fix your eyes a little higher up, farther in... The eternal is there. HE'S the one worthy of your hero worship, HE'S the never-failing, HE'S the consistent, HE'S the one who sees your soul and knows your very being. HE'S the One whose love is real and whose promises never fail."
And i think too, of my own blondie girls and boys - looking to their mama and papa and siblings and maybe finding a hero - an imperfect, fallible hero who instead of absorbing that praise, wants to reflect Him and point continually to the only One worthy...
God, give us the faith to choose the eternal over the temporal!
And it's not that there aren't qualities in humanity that aren't admirable - it's not that these qualities don't point us to our Father, who bestowed them as gifts on the broken human vessels who bear them... but worshipping the temporal will only bring you pain. Thinking that other human beings are capable of flawless agape love will devastate you when you see that it's not true - that they lie, their promises get broken, their words are true sometimes - and at other times they're empty and false, so it's like you're walking along one of those wooden bridges in movies with half the boards missing.
And i smiled at God as we talked during the service and i asked Him, "So, what's the point then? i know that relationships are important, *people* are important... How do i reconcile that knowledge with my desire to just give up on all humanity - to shut my eyes and my heart to everyone around me and to only love You?"
And i see myself clinging to my Saviour... starting with just the tiniest threads that i know to be true - and in faith, building from there. i see myself opening up again, trying again, failing again - because in this life we'll have trouble, and being a believer is a life of sacrifice. i see myself believing with faith that Truth will prove to be better - the the eternal can be chosen over the temporal and that my Papa will continue to grow me.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
joy
She's little and feisty, joy.
She's laden with sopping masses of a Hard Year - and yet she writhes and struggles for freedom.
i cry for her more often than for the other these days, as this most interesting fall season has unfolded around us. Big kids running in the right direction, passions unhindered, relationships unfolding, growth beginning to blossom and bloom, prayer coverings by faithful friends sent by God, tiny boys learning obedience as mama learns to be more consistent, lessons in church, lessons in quiet time, lessons everywhere i turn.
And He's there.
Slipping that feisty little joy into my hands and watching me fumble and grasp until i felt like maybe i had a firm hold on her.
And He's there.
Whispering directions into my ears and gently leading me.
And He's there.
Hearing my desperate prayers to break generational curses - and allowing me to see His Hand as my daughter confides in me that the profound happiness she is experiencing, must be a direct result of the deep and unrelenting knowledge that she is Loved by God.
Oh, Father... You are Good.
She's laden with sopping masses of a Hard Year - and yet she writhes and struggles for freedom.
i cry for her more often than for the other these days, as this most interesting fall season has unfolded around us. Big kids running in the right direction, passions unhindered, relationships unfolding, growth beginning to blossom and bloom, prayer coverings by faithful friends sent by God, tiny boys learning obedience as mama learns to be more consistent, lessons in church, lessons in quiet time, lessons everywhere i turn.
And He's there.
Slipping that feisty little joy into my hands and watching me fumble and grasp until i felt like maybe i had a firm hold on her.
And He's there.
Whispering directions into my ears and gently leading me.
And He's there.
Hearing my desperate prayers to break generational curses - and allowing me to see His Hand as my daughter confides in me that the profound happiness she is experiencing, must be a direct result of the deep and unrelenting knowledge that she is Loved by God.
Oh, Father... You are Good.
Monday, July 23, 2012
purpose and a plan - part 1
i think i've said it a hundred times and in a hundred ways - that this has been a tough year. A lot of it, i've blogged - but there are things i've left out too - some of the intimate details that made this a challenging year for me. Regardless - it's a year that i'll always remember as being a 'tilling' year. My sister and i were both impressed with that image of farmland being tilled - prepared - turned over and worked in preparation... it felt like *that* is what this year would look like for us.
And yet, through it all, i have felt my Father's watchful eye and known His tender presence - and there hasn't been a time where i've doubted that even in this mess - of turned up soil, crumbling lumps of dirt, the deep cutting as the earth is separated, worked and brought to the surface... that He has a purpose and a plan. And so it struck a very tender nerve when my sister sent me a passage from Isaiah the other day - that seemed to speak to my heart that is so ready to hear from my God.
(Keeping in mind, i'm a nobody - just a stay at home mama who loves Jesus who listened to and read a few bible commentaries from a site recommended by her pastor... i'm not a teacher - but i really want to share some of the things that are rolling around in my mind making me excited to know that He has a purpose and a plan.)
The passage my sister sent me was from Isaiah 28 - the last part of the chapter, starting at verse 23:
23 Listen and hear my voice;
pay attention and hear what I say.
24 When a farmer plows for planting, does he plow continually?
Does he keep on breaking up and working the soil?
25 When he has leveled the surface,
does he not sow caraway and scatter cumin?
Does he not plant wheat in its place,[c]
barley in its plot,[d]
and spelt in its field?
26 His God instructs him
and teaches him the right way.
And yet, through it all, i have felt my Father's watchful eye and known His tender presence - and there hasn't been a time where i've doubted that even in this mess - of turned up soil, crumbling lumps of dirt, the deep cutting as the earth is separated, worked and brought to the surface... that He has a purpose and a plan. And so it struck a very tender nerve when my sister sent me a passage from Isaiah the other day - that seemed to speak to my heart that is so ready to hear from my God.
(Keeping in mind, i'm a nobody - just a stay at home mama who loves Jesus who listened to and read a few bible commentaries from a site recommended by her pastor... i'm not a teacher - but i really want to share some of the things that are rolling around in my mind making me excited to know that He has a purpose and a plan.)
The passage my sister sent me was from Isaiah 28 - the last part of the chapter, starting at verse 23:
23 Listen and hear my voice;
pay attention and hear what I say.
24 When a farmer plows for planting, does he plow continually?
Does he keep on breaking up and working the soil?
25 When he has leveled the surface,
does he not sow caraway and scatter cumin?
Does he not plant wheat in its place,[c]
barley in its plot,[d]
and spelt in its field?
26 His God instructs him
and teaches him the right way.
27 Caraway is not threshed with a sledge,
nor is the wheel of a cart rolled over cumin;
caraway is beaten out with a rod,
and cumin with a stick.
28 Grain must be ground to make bread;
so one does not go on threshing it forever.
The wheels of a threshing cart may be rolled over it,
but one does not use horses to grind grain.
29 All this also comes from the Lord Almighty,
whose plan is wonderful,
whose wisdom is magnificent.
nor is the wheel of a cart rolled over cumin;
caraway is beaten out with a rod,
and cumin with a stick.
28 Grain must be ground to make bread;
so one does not go on threshing it forever.
The wheels of a threshing cart may be rolled over it,
but one does not use horses to grind grain.
29 All this also comes from the Lord Almighty,
whose plan is wonderful,
whose wisdom is magnificent.
i read it the first time and kind of paused - 'cause i didn't really know what it meant. i read it a second and a third time, trying to figure it out - reading the bits before and after to try to gain some perspective. Finally, i went and checked out some commentaries (that our pastor says contain only opinions on the meaning of passages in the bible that can be helpful in getting background or a little understanding if we're feeling stumped).
My new understanding is what is lifting my chin - to see a little further into the distance. i'm beginning to see a little beyond the black earth being tilled all around me to see that the earth is tilled for a purpose. There is a season and a method and a goal to what is being accomplished... and the God who is in charge of it all? His plan is *wonderful* and his wisdom is *magnificent*.
There's gonna be a threshing process - and yeh... it's painful - and i'm sitting here - thinking as i read this passage - Oh God! If we're compared to seeds - and some are hard and require heavy threshing before they can be used... and some are softer - and require a gentler approach, so that they don't become ruined in the process... Can i choose to be a soft seed?
Who knows... maybe... maybe i can...
Who knows... maybe... maybe i can...
If not - i still want to go through the process that allows me to be used. If afflictions are God's threshing instruments used to loosen us from the world, then i know that He won't make them any heavier than they need to be to accomplish His purpose. i know my Father loves me, and that He carefully measures out all that has been given to me to enable me to bring Him glory. He's not trying to crush me - He's trying to prepare me! i can trust Him in the threshing process... i can trust Him when i lose my little baby... and all the rest that has been measured out for me from His hand - this or any year.
Because He's good.
And He's kind.
And He's wise.
And He's full of mercy.
And He loves me (and you)... so very, very much.
Friday, July 20, 2012
just a closer walk with thee
i wish there was a magical way that i could explain my faith in a way that would express the Goodness of my Father.
i've had circular type conversations about faith where i totally get where the doubter is coming from.
Isn't it just about being good? What more is prayer than just a few moments of concentrated thought? Does reading the bible really amount to anything more than reading any other book? What does it even mean to have a "relationship" with God? What difference is there between your conscience and, "God speaking to you"?
And sometimes i think that it's harder for the really "good" people in the world to see the point in surrendering - because they feel like they're pretty capably holding their own without Him. Maybe is it easier for some - like the woman in Luke 7 - who had much to forgive, to surrender completely?
Sometimes these conversations happen with people who are Christians too - but their view of God has become so broken - that they are unable to really know His love, and so they see no point in cultivating a worthless relationship with someone they half feel they're imagining most of the time. (mark 9:24) i liked the way our pastor described his own personal experience with God when he said, "Up till that point, He had been my Saviour, but not my Lord..."
And i know, Father, i know - it's not my job to convince anyone...
But it's kind of like if you were to hear a nasty rumour about one of your best friends that you knew was not true. You want to clear their name...
And it's not because i think that it's right - or even possible - to gauge the depth of anyone else's relationship with their Creator... It's just a knowledge that so many are feeling (and articulating); "What's the point?"
And this is the part where i wish for that magical ability to communicate His Goodness.
My friend Fawne says that one of the best ways to understand if you're delving into a relationship with God or not is if you are seeing change in your life. i've found this to be true for me too... i find that the more i know Him, the more i want to change. i become aware of my sin and weakness because in His great love, He chooses to reveal them to me. Sometimes the changes that happen in our lives are ones that seem foolish to the world (the wife standing by the husband who cheated, the victim forgiving the one who wounded them, the guy making minimum wage who gives sacrificially...) The believer who is in a relationship with God is the one who is allowing Him to shape his decisions, they're the ones who change direction as He bids them to follow, they put aside their own familiar culture and cling instead to the One who hung the stars in the sky.
And i know - it might seem strange - to start that conversation with God. i know that the thought of what He might ask you to do - if you really took the time to listen - might seem terrifying, or embarrassing or inconvenient. And i know it seems neither safe nor dignified... to break the silence.
i know...
i know...
i've had circular type conversations about faith where i totally get where the doubter is coming from.
Isn't it just about being good? What more is prayer than just a few moments of concentrated thought? Does reading the bible really amount to anything more than reading any other book? What does it even mean to have a "relationship" with God? What difference is there between your conscience and, "God speaking to you"?
And sometimes i think that it's harder for the really "good" people in the world to see the point in surrendering - because they feel like they're pretty capably holding their own without Him. Maybe is it easier for some - like the woman in Luke 7 - who had much to forgive, to surrender completely?
Sometimes these conversations happen with people who are Christians too - but their view of God has become so broken - that they are unable to really know His love, and so they see no point in cultivating a worthless relationship with someone they half feel they're imagining most of the time. (mark 9:24) i liked the way our pastor described his own personal experience with God when he said, "Up till that point, He had been my Saviour, but not my Lord..."
And i know, Father, i know - it's not my job to convince anyone...
But it's kind of like if you were to hear a nasty rumour about one of your best friends that you knew was not true. You want to clear their name...
And it's not because i think that it's right - or even possible - to gauge the depth of anyone else's relationship with their Creator... It's just a knowledge that so many are feeling (and articulating); "What's the point?"
And this is the part where i wish for that magical ability to communicate His Goodness.
My friend Fawne says that one of the best ways to understand if you're delving into a relationship with God or not is if you are seeing change in your life. i've found this to be true for me too... i find that the more i know Him, the more i want to change. i become aware of my sin and weakness because in His great love, He chooses to reveal them to me. Sometimes the changes that happen in our lives are ones that seem foolish to the world (the wife standing by the husband who cheated, the victim forgiving the one who wounded them, the guy making minimum wage who gives sacrificially...) The believer who is in a relationship with God is the one who is allowing Him to shape his decisions, they're the ones who change direction as He bids them to follow, they put aside their own familiar culture and cling instead to the One who hung the stars in the sky.
And i know - it might seem strange - to start that conversation with God. i know that the thought of what He might ask you to do - if you really took the time to listen - might seem terrifying, or embarrassing or inconvenient. And i know it seems neither safe nor dignified... to break the silence.
i know...
i know...
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
my friends know who they are
i've always been one of those *horribly annoying* people who thinks nobody likes them. Since i'm aware of the horrible annoyingness of this personality type, i *try my best* to shut up about it when i'm feeling particularly unlovable.
Many, many things have contributed to this broken view of my own self - & while i know i'm not the only one who feels like they should apologize profusely for every conversation exchange - i find this timid way of living to be more than a little exhausting.
Lately though... it feels like my friends won't be explained away.
They keep trying when i don't respond.
They wind the roots of our friendships around my heart and bind it together so that it can heal.
They pray with me... like real prayers - for me, with me, over me...
They encourage me... ask me questions... dig deeper... and believe me...
Their expectations are non existent - and they minister to me tirelessly - without being asked. They are mostly wives and mama's, older, younger, wiser, funnier, full of kindness - and a welcoming sense of community...
And i can't help but believe that they like me.
And even if they didn't - i know that i would have more than enough...
So the fact that they do - seems like some crazy, undeserved richness.
And i think the richness of my friendships is a gift from my Father who whispers to me, "i love my people, Paige... i love you and i love these women too - sharpen each other, extend grace, be gentle and humbly offer truth to each other..."
People are hard. We're all broken - insecure, proud, incompetent, thoughtless, angry, selfish, insensitive or ultra sensitive...
But people are also precious. Each one has unique giftings - hilarious quirks, tender mercies, unbelievable strengths - humble offerings that make the vulnerability of true friendship worth it.
So friends? i'm so glad that you're in my life... please stay awhile and let's grow together.
Many, many things have contributed to this broken view of my own self - & while i know i'm not the only one who feels like they should apologize profusely for every conversation exchange - i find this timid way of living to be more than a little exhausting.
Lately though... it feels like my friends won't be explained away.
They keep trying when i don't respond.
They wind the roots of our friendships around my heart and bind it together so that it can heal.
They pray with me... like real prayers - for me, with me, over me...
They encourage me... ask me questions... dig deeper... and believe me...
Their expectations are non existent - and they minister to me tirelessly - without being asked. They are mostly wives and mama's, older, younger, wiser, funnier, full of kindness - and a welcoming sense of community...
And i can't help but believe that they like me.
And even if they didn't - i know that i would have more than enough...
So the fact that they do - seems like some crazy, undeserved richness.
And i think the richness of my friendships is a gift from my Father who whispers to me, "i love my people, Paige... i love you and i love these women too - sharpen each other, extend grace, be gentle and humbly offer truth to each other..."
People are hard. We're all broken - insecure, proud, incompetent, thoughtless, angry, selfish, insensitive or ultra sensitive...
But people are also precious. Each one has unique giftings - hilarious quirks, tender mercies, unbelievable strengths - humble offerings that make the vulnerability of true friendship worth it.
So friends? i'm so glad that you're in my life... please stay awhile and let's grow together.
Friday, April 6, 2012
tweaking our sorrows
i realized something the other day - in my search for JOY.
i realized that something that is stealing my joy is my tendency to want to "tweak" my sorrows.
"Oh, God - i could handle this sorrow... if only i didn't have to deal with X... Could you substitute illness instead of rejection? Physical pain for emotional hurt? i'll take humility, but leave me my reputation?"
It doesn't matter what kind of sorrow we're given - you can't compare or measure... a friend of mine told me that her husband who is wheelchair bound had said, "i can handle the chair... but i wish i could use my hands..."
& isn't that how it is in our pain?
We look for a little relief - some way that would make our circumstances tolerable, more bearable, a little easier...
For me... i went through my little list of sorrows in my head & saw that i kept thinking, "i could handle this, if only..."
& i spent so much time thinking about the "if only"... that i was missing the reality - that i can't tweak my sorrows. They were measured out for me in the exact number and order that they were intended.
Sitting in the Good Friday service at church, with everyone around me standing, i was listening to the decades married couple singing behind me. Their voices were soft, but i could hear every breath and promise as they sang the words of faith in unison. The sound of their voices blessed me - with words of the old story that had brought us together on this Friday morning... knowing that Sunday comes. The woman beside me quit singing - & softly cried until i thought i would burst if i didn't grab her & cry with her... but she was older with fancy diamonds on her hands... & i was too shy... & the pastor was already beginning to speak - so instead i just prayed for us both - to be able to receive without tweaking - the faith building tests that our Father has provided.
So no more... no more, "i could have handled this better if..."
More of Him, less of me... the whole, 'i can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.' That's the scripture that i'm gonna allow to reverberate truth through me this year.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. - james1:2-5
i realized that something that is stealing my joy is my tendency to want to "tweak" my sorrows.
"Oh, God - i could handle this sorrow... if only i didn't have to deal with X... Could you substitute illness instead of rejection? Physical pain for emotional hurt? i'll take humility, but leave me my reputation?"
It doesn't matter what kind of sorrow we're given - you can't compare or measure... a friend of mine told me that her husband who is wheelchair bound had said, "i can handle the chair... but i wish i could use my hands..."
& isn't that how it is in our pain?
We look for a little relief - some way that would make our circumstances tolerable, more bearable, a little easier...
For me... i went through my little list of sorrows in my head & saw that i kept thinking, "i could handle this, if only..."
& i spent so much time thinking about the "if only"... that i was missing the reality - that i can't tweak my sorrows. They were measured out for me in the exact number and order that they were intended.
Sitting in the Good Friday service at church, with everyone around me standing, i was listening to the decades married couple singing behind me. Their voices were soft, but i could hear every breath and promise as they sang the words of faith in unison. The sound of their voices blessed me - with words of the old story that had brought us together on this Friday morning... knowing that Sunday comes. The woman beside me quit singing - & softly cried until i thought i would burst if i didn't grab her & cry with her... but she was older with fancy diamonds on her hands... & i was too shy... & the pastor was already beginning to speak - so instead i just prayed for us both - to be able to receive without tweaking - the faith building tests that our Father has provided.
So no more... no more, "i could have handled this better if..."
More of Him, less of me... the whole, 'i can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.' That's the scripture that i'm gonna allow to reverberate truth through me this year.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. - james1:2-5
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
here i am to worship
i lead the music at our church sometimes...
Having to discipline myself to come to my piano - to work, to pray, to weep, to sing - to prepare to lead, has been a huge blessing to me. Especially in these past months when my inclination might be to let silence reign. The first notes & chords are often tentative - but then i find that i can't help but to be drawn in to sincere praise & worship of my King.
Today - i'm getting this sore throat & i'm tired & neil's gone again... but i pulled out music - sifting, sorting, praising... & then i started to sing one old song. & even now, i feel the tug in my very soul as i think about the words...
o... how i love Jesus...
& that's just what it comes down to isn't it?
i love Him - because He's worthy...
& i believe that He loves me & has allowed nothing to separate us.
Nothing.
i love that scripture, "For i am convinced... that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
i'm His girl.
Resting in that today.
Having to discipline myself to come to my piano - to work, to pray, to weep, to sing - to prepare to lead, has been a huge blessing to me. Especially in these past months when my inclination might be to let silence reign. The first notes & chords are often tentative - but then i find that i can't help but to be drawn in to sincere praise & worship of my King.
Today - i'm getting this sore throat & i'm tired & neil's gone again... but i pulled out music - sifting, sorting, praising... & then i started to sing one old song. & even now, i feel the tug in my very soul as i think about the words...
o... how i love Jesus...
& that's just what it comes down to isn't it?
i love Him - because He's worthy...
& i believe that He loves me & has allowed nothing to separate us.
Nothing.
i love that scripture, "For i am convinced... that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
i'm His girl.
Resting in that today.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
the gentle rebuke
Twice in the past 8 months, i've experienced a gentle rebuke.
The first was so tender - & so unexpected - that i immediately burst into tears of sorrow and repentance at the nudge that made a radical change in my understanding... i went from believing one thing, to another in a single moment - the rebuke was personal and specific, and i immediately felt gratitude.
The second happened on Sunday morning.
We were sitting in church & suddenly i felt that gentle, prodding voice...
"Why didn't you set your timer for my 15 minutes of prayer for family on Friday?"
"What? Father... i prayed all day on Friday!! You know that i fasted and i spent more time than any other Friday on my knees..."
Friday had brought heartbreak for a family we know. i had prayed with my children, and with a friend who came to my house and sat on a bed with me as we clutched hands and brought this family to our Father God - who loves each individual in this painful, hurting situation... i had asked my little ones to pray with me as i ached throughout the day - and it felt funny now... to feel a rebuke for not having set my timer to pray for family...
But, as with the other rebuke - that had come like a breeze into a room with no window - i knew in that moment... that i was wrong.
This 15 on Friday is something different. It's something that He's asking me to do - diligently, obediently, consistently... It's different than skipping a meal. It's different than our prayer time in the morning... It's different than the other times that i pray during the day. It's personal, specific... and it's for *me* to do. & it's something that i didn't make the time for on Friday.
And i didn't feel a crushing condemnation... i felt a gentle rebuke, like, "Hey - little daughter... this year is hard, it's full of darkness and tearing and breaking up. i've provided the opportunity for you, in this time i'm asking you to set aside, to bring it all to me. This is for your protection. Come."
Literally... in church... i did that, 'palm to the face...'
"ohhhhh...." i groaned.... understanding flooding red into my cheeks.
Is this why i can hear Him differently... more clearly... than i have before? Is it because of the time set aside - that has challenged me to introduce an ounce of discipline to a spiritual relationship that has often depended on a whim?
i don't know...
But i know that i'm grateful to hear His voice...
&Holy Father?... i'll obey.
***********
Have you ever heard that gentle reproach that changed your thinking in an instant?
The first was so tender - & so unexpected - that i immediately burst into tears of sorrow and repentance at the nudge that made a radical change in my understanding... i went from believing one thing, to another in a single moment - the rebuke was personal and specific, and i immediately felt gratitude.
The second happened on Sunday morning.
We were sitting in church & suddenly i felt that gentle, prodding voice...
"Why didn't you set your timer for my 15 minutes of prayer for family on Friday?"
"What? Father... i prayed all day on Friday!! You know that i fasted and i spent more time than any other Friday on my knees..."
Friday had brought heartbreak for a family we know. i had prayed with my children, and with a friend who came to my house and sat on a bed with me as we clutched hands and brought this family to our Father God - who loves each individual in this painful, hurting situation... i had asked my little ones to pray with me as i ached throughout the day - and it felt funny now... to feel a rebuke for not having set my timer to pray for family...
But, as with the other rebuke - that had come like a breeze into a room with no window - i knew in that moment... that i was wrong.
This 15 on Friday is something different. It's something that He's asking me to do - diligently, obediently, consistently... It's different than skipping a meal. It's different than our prayer time in the morning... It's different than the other times that i pray during the day. It's personal, specific... and it's for *me* to do. & it's something that i didn't make the time for on Friday.
And i didn't feel a crushing condemnation... i felt a gentle rebuke, like, "Hey - little daughter... this year is hard, it's full of darkness and tearing and breaking up. i've provided the opportunity for you, in this time i'm asking you to set aside, to bring it all to me. This is for your protection. Come."
Literally... in church... i did that, 'palm to the face...'
"ohhhhh...." i groaned.... understanding flooding red into my cheeks.
Is this why i can hear Him differently... more clearly... than i have before? Is it because of the time set aside - that has challenged me to introduce an ounce of discipline to a spiritual relationship that has often depended on a whim?
i don't know...
But i know that i'm grateful to hear His voice...
&Holy Father?... i'll obey.
***********
Have you ever heard that gentle reproach that changed your thinking in an instant?
Friday, February 24, 2012
if you know my husband... (edited)
If you know my husband, you'll know that he's the last person that you'd ever expect to suggest that you need to watch a sermon online... but that's just what happened.
It was February 12th, & i knew even the night before that i wasn't going to church in the morning.
"Bess, i got nothing..." i told him, "Can you just take the littles to church in the morning?"
& so he did...
He packed up the bigs & left me at home with the tinies. When he came home, he said, "Babe, i think that sermon was for you... with your prolife stuff... i think you need to listen to it online."
"Whaddyou mean?" i asked. i'm not a fan of watching sermons online & he knows that... but he persisted.
"He talked about the paralytic's friends who brought him to Jesus. i think that's like you, praying at the abortion clinic. i know it's uncomfortable & hard, but i think you're doing something that needs to be done..."
& he left it at that...
& i didn't watch it.
Life is busy, Neil's out of town a lot, i have little people to feed, laundry to fold and blogs to pretend to write...
But then, one day he asked me...."Did you watch it yet? That sermon, did you see it? 'Cause i think that you should..."
& so another business trip came & i found myself with the time & the inclination to spend a half hour in front of my computer...
It felt like i received a love letter from my husband.
That he could see the eternal value in what so few support... & that he could hear a message of, "press on... keep going... don't stop..." & know enough to pass it on to his beleaguered wife...
is better than chocolate.
You can watch the sermon from February 12th HERE.
ps - i posted my heart over on the Calgary 40 days for life blog... i'd love it if you would read it. It's my constant battle - to be able to understand that my Saviour loves me - when i see myself so utterly unworthy. But this is the thing isn't it? He doesn't love me because i'm worthy, He loves me because i'm His girl. You can read my post HERE.
It was February 12th, & i knew even the night before that i wasn't going to church in the morning.
"Bess, i got nothing..." i told him, "Can you just take the littles to church in the morning?"
& so he did...
He packed up the bigs & left me at home with the tinies. When he came home, he said, "Babe, i think that sermon was for you... with your prolife stuff... i think you need to listen to it online."
"Whaddyou mean?" i asked. i'm not a fan of watching sermons online & he knows that... but he persisted.
"He talked about the paralytic's friends who brought him to Jesus. i think that's like you, praying at the abortion clinic. i know it's uncomfortable & hard, but i think you're doing something that needs to be done..."
& he left it at that...
& i didn't watch it.
Life is busy, Neil's out of town a lot, i have little people to feed, laundry to fold and blogs to pretend to write...
But then, one day he asked me...."Did you watch it yet? That sermon, did you see it? 'Cause i think that you should..."
& so another business trip came & i found myself with the time & the inclination to spend a half hour in front of my computer...
It felt like i received a love letter from my husband.
That he could see the eternal value in what so few support... & that he could hear a message of, "press on... keep going... don't stop..." & know enough to pass it on to his beleaguered wife...
is better than chocolate.
You can watch the sermon from February 12th HERE.
ps - i posted my heart over on the Calgary 40 days for life blog... i'd love it if you would read it. It's my constant battle - to be able to understand that my Saviour loves me - when i see myself so utterly unworthy. But this is the thing isn't it? He doesn't love me because i'm worthy, He loves me because i'm His girl. You can read my post HERE.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
um, you *are* the church
For some reason, after over a thousand blog posts, people keep asking me for copies of THIS one. i'm feeling it more today.
So often we hear people say, "If only the CHURCH would do such and such, it would be better!" or, "i'd be a part of the church if it wasn't so..."
Gently, i'd just remind you (& myself)... that if you are a Christ follower... you are the church. BE the church... go to Him hungry, and thirsty, tired and broken. Let Him croon tenderly to you words of love and healing. You are the church & He loves His bride.
Here's a repost:
this is the church i go to...
Hey, let me introduce us...
We're the broken - the sick - the lost - the dying...
We've struggled with death and disease, some of us have come here looking for answers, not knowing if we believe in heaven at all... some have become hard and calloused and don't even know why we're here Sunday after Sunday. Still others of us come because we need fellowship with other people who love Jesus...
Some of us are struggling with infertility, some of us have been cheated on, disrespected, abandoned by spouses who should have known better. Some of us have been happily married for decades. Some of us are lonely, guilty, shy, boisterous, bitter or happy. Some of us are reeling from circumstances that have spiraled far beyond our control.
This is the church that i go to...
Some of us mouth the words of the songs because our hearts would break if we *really* sang those words. Some of us are unemployed, former addicts, present day mess-ups, control-freaks or successful businessmen. Some of us are grieving our babies lost to miscarriage - others grieving our children lost to abortion - & still others are gratefully anticipating new life with swelling bellies and tearful gratitude.
This is the church i go to...
Our childhoods are as varied as the rest of our lives... Some were happy.... Some of us were neglected, abused, ignored, abandoned. Some of us were motherless, others fatherless - some of us got good grades & some of us are drop outs. Some of us still feel stuck in those years - the hurts won't heal & we come here looking for answers... looking for Jesus... so we can quit wasting away and start living.
This is the church i go to.
Some of us come straight from work, others from hellish, unimaginable situations, & some straight from a good night's rest... Some of us go home to empty houses, or warm lunches, or out to work again...
But on Sunday morning, we gather as a congregation...
We, who are daily becoming aware of our need...
Jesus.
He is the cup - and we are thirsty - parched, crawling and almost delirious with our need.
Jesus.
He is the bread - our frail bodies are wracked with hunger.
Jesus.
We're clinging to the cross...
This is the church i go to.
12On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. 13But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.'[a] For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." matthew 9:12&13
36When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. matthew 9:36
So often we hear people say, "If only the CHURCH would do such and such, it would be better!" or, "i'd be a part of the church if it wasn't so..."
Gently, i'd just remind you (& myself)... that if you are a Christ follower... you are the church. BE the church... go to Him hungry, and thirsty, tired and broken. Let Him croon tenderly to you words of love and healing. You are the church & He loves His bride.
Here's a repost:
this is the church i go to...
Hey, let me introduce us...
We're the broken - the sick - the lost - the dying...
We've struggled with death and disease, some of us have come here looking for answers, not knowing if we believe in heaven at all... some have become hard and calloused and don't even know why we're here Sunday after Sunday. Still others of us come because we need fellowship with other people who love Jesus...
Some of us are struggling with infertility, some of us have been cheated on, disrespected, abandoned by spouses who should have known better. Some of us have been happily married for decades. Some of us are lonely, guilty, shy, boisterous, bitter or happy. Some of us are reeling from circumstances that have spiraled far beyond our control.
This is the church that i go to...
Some of us mouth the words of the songs because our hearts would break if we *really* sang those words. Some of us are unemployed, former addicts, present day mess-ups, control-freaks or successful businessmen. Some of us are grieving our babies lost to miscarriage - others grieving our children lost to abortion - & still others are gratefully anticipating new life with swelling bellies and tearful gratitude.
This is the church i go to...
Our childhoods are as varied as the rest of our lives... Some were happy.... Some of us were neglected, abused, ignored, abandoned. Some of us were motherless, others fatherless - some of us got good grades & some of us are drop outs. Some of us still feel stuck in those years - the hurts won't heal & we come here looking for answers... looking for Jesus... so we can quit wasting away and start living.
This is the church i go to.
Some of us come straight from work, others from hellish, unimaginable situations, & some straight from a good night's rest... Some of us go home to empty houses, or warm lunches, or out to work again...
But on Sunday morning, we gather as a congregation...
We, who are daily becoming aware of our need...
Jesus.
He is the cup - and we are thirsty - parched, crawling and almost delirious with our need.
Jesus.
He is the bread - our frail bodies are wracked with hunger.
Jesus.
We're clinging to the cross...
This is the church i go to.
12On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. 13But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.'[a] For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." matthew 9:12&13
36When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. matthew 9:36
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
15 on Friday
This past Friday, i wanted to run to that church building... my heart was shouting, singing - my whole day spent in overflowing gratitude & prayers...
This 15 on Friday was the easy one.
The whole church yard was covered in thick, wet snow...
So, i stood on the sidewalk, letting the sun beat down on my head as i changed my posture - coming to that walled place that is just a badly constructed building... but changing my posture as a part of the *real* church...
The words bubbled out of me without hesitation... my feet wanted to dance, i wanted to shout... raise my hands and laugh as i stood on that sidewalk to pray.
The first 15 flew, and the second 15 too... but conscious of my little ones at home, & what felt like many, many people passing behind me - i finally decided to leave that little bit of wet sidewalk and head for home.
i opened my eyes, and saw dozens of muslim men & boys heading to prayer at the Towne Hall, like they do every Friday... This was the crowd that was passing behind me on that sidewalk - brushing my back as i stood edging onto the grass with my face upturned & my palms open to Him.
& i laughed that i had come - alone & a woman... insignificant & unworthy - to this piece of sidewalk in McKenzie Towne...
& He saw fit to meet with me there.
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