Category Archives: My Personal Journey

what i’m learning at the fire hydrant

fire hydrantI had no idea what it would really be like, this year devoted to going deeper with God. They tried to warn me. They told me the discipleship training school would be like trying to drink from a gushing fire hydrant.  But, I’ve never tried to take a drink like that, so it was like trying to explain childbirth to a woman pregnant with her first child. All it really ends up doing is scaring the stuffing out of her, because childbirth has to be experienced, not explained.  This can also be applied to drinking from a fire hydrant.

But now I know.  The gushing water is overwhelming, and you miss a lot of what is pouring out. But what you are able to drink in is glorious. What you drink in brings the revelation that you were dying of thirst.  What you drink in makes you abandon trying to catch water in your hands and compels you to go in face first. Yeah…it’s that good.

I love words, but even I don’t have enough of them to try to explain all that God has been teaching me and doing in me.  On top of the training school, I just spent a week receiving training in the core values of my church; teachings I would have paid money to receive at a conference. Yeah…they were that good.

So, I will try to pour out drops of what is being poured into me. Drops, in the form of direct quotes from some of the teachings, along with my own quotes, written in flurries into my journal during the sessions.

 

“If we lower the bar so that we can live up to it, we miss the whole point, which is total dependence on God. God never lowers the bar.”

 

Instead of “what do I do?”…it needs to be “what do I believe?”. We behave what we believe.

 

“The capacity to perform the things of the Kingdom is directly tied to the depth of our intimacy with Jesus, not with the breadth of our knowledge.” 

 

“We will never get to the end of ‘in Christ’.”

 

“Insecurity produces dominance.”

 

“We can preserve our physical virginity, but prostitute our hearts.”

 

“The ulterior motive of God is to bless you, not to use you.”

 

I didn’t ‘find‘ Jesus. I ran from Him and He pursued me and caught me.

 

“I refuse to allow the praises of men or the revilings of men to deter me from the will of God.” 

 

“Are you deaf enough to the opinions of man, to fulfill the call of God on your life?”

 

“The most deceptive people in the world are deceived people who think they are speaking truth.”

 

I was made a sinner without sinning, and I was made righteous without being right.

 

“Judgement came after only one sin. Grace came after many sins. Which is stronger?”

 

“Do not make assumptions. They make bad theology.”

 

Brokenness…a condition of the heart that is becoming aware of its utter and complete need for God alone.

 

“When you [walk in] sin, something dies, and you don’t get to choose what dies.”

 

Brokenness is a lifestyle, not an event.

 

Will I fall on the Rock, or let the Rock fall on me?

Rock

 

I don’t want to miss the point of a position of authority.  It is not about me, it is about raising others up.

 

Underleaders:  Are passive. Only do what is asked of them.   Overleaders: Aggressive. Do too much. Usually start out prideful.  Both are marked by insecurity. Collaborative leaders:  Humility dominates. They come with a vision. They ask “what do you think?”.

Pride will cause me to fight for my gifting.

 

I am an ambassador. I represent God everywhere I go.

 

            The Kingdom cannot come without the Gospel.

 

                      The Kingdom coming means hearts are transformed. A Kingdom means there is a King.

 

                                    “There are greater places in God than we have ever been.”

 

Fire will come upon my works. Only those done for Jesus will survive. Am I doing things to feel better about me? To gain a position? To promote me or my gifting? Motive matters!

 

“We will not be fascinated with the gifts, but fascinated with Jesus.”

 

“It is more about reliance on Him than development in me.”

 

For every “yes” you give to God, you give 1,000 “no’s” to the world.

 

“Life is at work in places because death is at work somewhere [in us].”

 

“None of us has the capacity to be the full revelation of God.”

 

captive

“Living in bondage will cause us to forget our identity, and God’s identity.”

 

We cannot filter our beliefs through experience. 

 

We cannot separate the voice of God from the Word of God. The more we are grounded in His Word, the more we will hear His voice.

 

If what drives us is the need to be somebody, we will not complete the call of God. It can’t be about us having a cause or a mission…it must be about God getting glory and people getting His salvation. It has to be about Him and Them.

 

I cannot confuse identity and mission. If I do, then when I fail (and I will), it will shake me. I will determine that my ministry success is my worth. And, I will reject what God speaks if it does not line up with what I believe to be my calling, ministry, gifting, etc. 

 

“God, what is the next step of obedience for me?”

 

Fulfilling the great commission means putting a burden for others above my need for identity.

 

I can’t look at God’s mission through the very narrow lens of my part in it. I have to look at the whole mission, and then ask for my part.

 

I don’t need to hear, “well done, good and powerful servant”, or “well done, good and perfect servant”. Just let me be found faithful!

 

“What is God’s will for my life?” needs to be “what is God’s will?”.

 

Do I see what I have as mine, or as God’s?

 

“Any dingbat can be a problem finder. Leaders find solutions.”

 

Indicators of where my treasure is:  what I spend my time on; what I talk about; what I am unwilling to give up; how I live my life.

 

Do not despise even the smallest provision.

 

I need to grow deep enough in God to handle not getting what I want when I want it.

 

They’re just drops of water. Scribbles from the journal of a thirsty woman who has found herself, by the grace and goodness of God, positioned in front of a fire hydrant.  There is more, so much more, that I haven’t dripped out here.

Next weekend, we will go on our Fall Outreach, where we will share the gospel in Norman, Oklahoma, with our church plant there. In the spring, we will go on an international outreach to a location still unknown.

In between those two events, I will be found face first at the fire hydrant.

let me walk on water

I don’t even know where to begin, how to tell you what it is that is trying to bust its way out of my heart.

I think it began when I turned 50 and told God I wanted the last half of my life to count, to be about His Kingdom and nothing else. Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s where it began, but then again, maybe it started long before that, in the continual yearning to just crawl up into Jesus and stay there.

A couple of weeks ago I heard a song, and my heart beat fast. It was trying to tell me something I couldn’t hear. And then a scripture that went with it shouted at me but I was struggling to make out the words. A conversation about being grateful to not have a lot of choices in front of me left me with something on the tip of my tongue, but remained elusive. Another conversation that left me frustrated because I couldn’t put into words the true longing of my heart.

And then this morning happened.

This morning I played the song again. And I sang it loud and in the midst of my head back arms wide open worship moment, I knew. And I laughed because I realized God knew all along and had brought conversations and scriptures and songs together to tell me all about my own heart…about me.

I want to walk on water.

walkingwater_LargeI want my faith to be taken out to deep waters, away from the safety of the shoreline, away from a boat it can climb back into. I want that desperately. And I’m not sure why.

And I fight the urge to give way to that old familiar feeling. The feeling that something in me isn’t normal, isn’t quite right. Because who says they would rather have nothing than to have whatever I could get for myself?

Who thinks they would rather go where Christians are dying for their faith than stay where they are living for themselves?

What normal person would rather be beating off demons with a stick in a jungle somewhere than rocking comfortably in a chair on the front porch?

And that feeling rises in me, and something that looks like shame comes with it. But then I hear it again, and I am ready to throw off my shoes and dive out of the boat.

Because when deep calls to deep, something inside falls in worship and being normal doesn’t matter anymore. Something inside remembers the taste of His faithfulness and the feeling of grace falling over me when I’ve been in deep waters, when I’ve felt the growing pains of faith because trusting Jesus was all I could do.

And this is it. The name of what is in my heart that fights against the flesh that surrounds it.

A desire for trust to be the only option in front of me.

Because one day my time here will be done, and when it is, when I enter His presence, I want to look into the face of the One I trusted in the journey. I cannot handle the thought of coming face to face with Him having only walked on land, in places of earthly security and comfort. It makes me want to weep to think that my life, my short breath on this earth would be spent trusting in a boat to keep me from drowning.

I want to leave wet footprints as I run from this life into eternity, as I come flying in to fall at the feet of the One I have followed home.

It all sounds very brave and quite spiritual, I know. But I assure you it isn’t any of that. Because while the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak and it is war and it is hard and it often looks like flesh is winning because weak flesh is really quite strong.

But something is shifting and I know it and while it frightens me a little, it also makes me close my eyes and say thank You Jesus! You are calling me and I hear you and it’s growing, this desire to be with You out in the deepest of places where my feet may fail.

I keep thinking about the people who followed Jesus. The crowds who stood on the shore while He taught them from the boat. And the disciples who were in the boat with Him. I have, at one time or another, been all of those, and in many ways I still am.

Oh, but there’s a Peter in me. My heart can feel it. Somewhere in there deep, is the voice of Peter, standing up and saying to Jesus, “Tell me to come to You!”

Jesus, call me to walk upon the water.

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters, wherever You may call me.
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.
 Hillsong United – Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)
 

my money changers

I don’t know how to write about it so I’ll just put down words and see if they make sense.

I think there are money changers in the temple that is me. Yeah..how’s that for a start?

Prayer-JournalEvery time I walk into my prayer room that hasn’t heard much prayer lately, I see my prayer journals that haven’t been written in much lately, sitting on the table. They stare at me. I stare back. Sometimes I stick my tongue out at them and walk away. I am a prayer-less woman with a prayer room and prayer journals. And guilt. Lots of guilt. Because I love prayer and I know the power of it, I know the importance of it and I haven’t been very engaged in it.

But God. He’s not one to just let a thing go now is He? He stares too, just like those stupid journals and I haven’t the nerve to stick my tongue out but I do walk away. But then there is my bible, sitting open right next to my keyboard. Open to this passage…

“When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple courts he found people selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple courts, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said,’Get these out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!’ His disciples remembered that it is written: ‘Zeal for your house will consume me.'” John 2:13-17

While there are probably several reasons for Jesus’ anger, I believe the fact that they were in the temple courts, the only place the Gentiles could pray, is one of them. In the other gospels Jesus is recorded as saying that His Father’s house is to be a house of prayer. The money changers were in the place of prayer.

And then this came to mind…

“Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst?” 1Corinthians 3:16

And that’s when the thought seeped it’s way into my frontal lobe.

“I think I have money changers in the temple.”

Things that have set up shop in the place they should not be, in the place of prayer. I can name a few of them.

Complacency. Fear. Worry. Unbelief. Busyness. Escape.  I’m sure there’s more. Maybe some of them are even good things that have taken the place of the better thing. My money changers.

And you know what grieves me the most? It isn’t just that I have stopped interceding for other people, or that my journals have empty pages.

It’s that I’ve stopped talking to my Father. That’s why I wept tonight. Because I know He desires to hear my voice. He leans in for it. I know He waits for me to cry out to Him, to come to Him. He waits to answer what I’m not asking.

So I think there are some tables that need to be turned over. I think a little zeal is in order.

Thanks for letting me talk all of that out. It may not have made much sense to you, but talking about it helped me. Thanks for listening.

after the car wreck

Yesterday was the worst day so far, since the accident. My husband and I went out to run an errand. I held his hand. In a death grip. With the other hand I held the arm of the door with that same death grip. Throughout the ride I gasped and cringed, even though my husband was driving very carefully, and even describing everything he was doing the whole time, letting me know he saw every car and was very aware of his surroundings. Still, my heart raced.

And I cried. I cried because I was afraid. I cried because this thing has such a grip on me. I cried because I need to get back to my life and that means being in the car, and I can’t. I just can’t.

We arrived back home and I felt utterly defeated. And then we had to turn right back around and go out again, to go to church (we were going to the evening service). It was almost too much for me, but I did it, determined not to cry this time.  Instead, I asked Jesus to help me with this fear, got into the car, and made it all the way to church without crying. And that’s where He met me with a revelation that, I think, has changed this game.

It was during worship (don’t EVER underestimate the importance of entering into worship, even when you don’t feel like it). During this song we sang these lyrics:

I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
There is no one like You God
I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
No other name be lifted high

And suddenly I knew.

I had exalted my fear. Granted it permission to take over my heart. Played the game like my fear was the biggest, baddest, strongest player on the field. I wrecked my car and now fear was wrecking me. Fear was winning the game. That made me mad.

And so I sang. And my song became a prayer. “I will exalt YOU. No other. YOU. Nothing else has the right to hold my heart above You. Nothing. I lift You high. Higher than the accident. Higher than pain. Higher than guilt. Higher than fear. I exalt You.

The drive home was easier, but I attributed it to the fact that it was dark out, and what I can’t see can’t scare me. (Silly, right? Because what we can’t see is EXACTLY what scares us!) I couldn’t imagine that a few moments in worship that birthed a revelation that birthed a prayer, could work that fast. (My rock hard faith amazes me sometimes.)

So I just have to ask. What about you? Is there something that is being exalted in your heart or in your mind that has no right to be lifted that high?

Is there a fear, anger, an illness, or a disappointment that has become higher than Jesus? How about a desire, a spouse, or a child? A gifting, a calling, even a ministry?

What grips your heart?

Let it be Jesus.

from inside the wreck

The car isn’t moving anymore. I wonder why. I push on the gas pedal, but the car won’t move. My head hurts. I hear voices, someone yelling, someone off to my left is crying/screaming.

A woman is at my window, telling me to stay still, that 911 has been called and I will be ok. My head hurts. I put my hand back there and it comes back bloody. I don’t understand. What happened? I need to get out of this car. That seems suddenly very important to me. I pull the handle and push. Nothing. That door will never open again, from the curious looks of it. How did it get like that? Maybe I can crawl out the other side. Because I need to get out of this car. The lady at my window stops me, tells me I have to stay still. She grabbed a towel from my back seat and is now holding it against the back of my head. I need to call my husband. He will come and get me. I look down and, oddly, my phone is laying on the passenger seat. The nice lady offers to call him for me and I hear her telling him “your wife has been in an accident, you need to get here”.

Sirens. Voices. Blood. Crying off to my left. I am shaking now, uncontrollably. My head hurts.

Bits and pieces of a conversation taking place somewhere outside of my car float into my brain. “I didn’t see it, some guy just ran into the shop and told me I needed to get out here because people were hurt.” “Has 911 been called? Yes?”.

A policeman opens my passenger door and starts going through my purse. Tells me to stay still. Takes my license and disappears. I try to be still, because that’s what everyone keeps telling me. Must be important.

A different lady leans in my passenger window, holding a pair of glasses. Wants to know if they are mine. Yes. “I found them out on the road”. Thank you. She smiled and was gone. My glasses weren’t even scratched.

Through my passenger window I see the back of an ambulance. A man on a stretcher being put in the back. I start crying. Now there’s a man at my driver’s window, replacing the nice lady with the towel. A fireman. And another one…fireman? paramedic?…sitting in my passenger seat holding the towel against my head. The fireman in my window tells me to be still and not to worry, that they need to cut me out of the car and it will be loud but I’ll be ok. Then he put a blanket over my window. My head hurts. But I’m being still.

And then my husband’s face through a window, telling me I’m going to be ok. I wanted him to take me home now. Just get me out of here and let’s go home, ok? I don’t need to go in the ambulance. I don’t need a doctor. The bleeding will stop soon and I will be fine. I just wanna go home now.

They let him sit in the front seat next to me while they cut metal from metal. So loud. The car is rocking as they attempt to remove the curiously smashed door. He is calm, but I know. I saw it in that glimpse of his face. He is calmly scared. And relieved. Because I am moving and bleeding and breathing. Not dead. I felt bad that he had been scared, that he had wondered if his wife was alive as he took the phone call. Wondering still, as he came upon the scene of mangled metal, flashing lights, fire trucks and ambulances. But he was calm for me. He’s good like that.

Finally, the blanket came off and the jack-hammering noise stopped. Finally, I will get to leave this car. A strange contraption goes around my neck and now men are turning me, moving me, out, down, onto a board. Because of the contraption, I can only see straight up. The face of my son and my daughter-in-law come into view, with that same calmly scared look.  And then a stranger’s face looking down at me saying “You’re going to be fine. We are praying for you.”. And then he was gone. Just a man who drove up on the crash. And began praying.

Into the ambulance. Lots of talking. Medical speak…letters and number I couldn’t understand. And questions. Medications? None. Allergies? I can’t have the dye for cat scans. Make sure they don’t give me that, ok?

Blood pressure cuff. Way too tight, it hurts my arm. Then, “blood pressure is 187 over 112. Ma’am do you have a history of high blood pressure?” “Sort of, yes.” Flurry of motion and this man wins a medal for quickest IV insertion EVER. One, two, done, taped down and everything. I was impressed. But my head hurt so I didn’t tell him. I think I should have told him.

Hospital. Scans, x-rays, pokes and prods. Head still hurts. My son, daughter-in-law and husband all in the room. Husband and son cracking jokes, making me laugh. Because that’s how we roll. We roll through most things laughing all the way. Daughter had not yet been reached at work. (She came to sit with me later that night at home, bearing grocery bags of food and treats and her runs-in-the-family sense of humor that made my head hurt less.)

I asked about the people in the other car. “No one has any life threatening injuries”. Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless and I am grateful for it.

Blood pressure down. Scans and x-rays, pokes and prods all show minimal damage. A two and a half inch gash in the back of my head. Nothing a staple gun can’t fix. Bam, bam…six staples just like that, after being assured by the carpenter/doctor that numbing it would hurt as much as the staples, so we may as well just get to stapling. Bruises, abrasions, soreness, a concussion and quite the headache. But I’m not dead, something that seemed surprising, at least to those who had seen my car.

The accident happened last Saturday, October 6, 2012. I still don’t know what happened, other than my car was broadsided by another car that, if going only the speed the limit, was travelling at least 45 miles an hour. I had gotten gas, and was waiting for traffic to clear so I could pull out and head home. I needed to cross two lanes of northbound traffic, and a center turn lane, so that I could go left (south). Two cars were coming from my left. They passed. I pulled out, crossed over the northbound lanes into the center turn lane.

And then a lady was at my window telling me to stay still, that 911 had been called.

And now I don’t want to drive a car again. Or ride in a car. Or leave my house. But I will. I will do all of those things, because I know God.

I know He will remind me that life is worth the risk of living it out in the open. Where I am  in control of nothing. Where bad things can happen, but good things too.

He will remind me that because He is with me, Love is always there, even when I am bleeding and don’t know why.

Love will be there, holding a towel to my head, saying, “be still, you’ll be ok”.

Love will be there, getting out of their car to pray for the strangers in the twisted metal.

Love will be there, sitting in the front seat with me, holding my hand, calmly scared but telling me I will be ok.

He will remind me that I am His and He is in control and life is fragile so live it with care.

This experience will matter. It will change something. Because I know God.

He uses everything, and wastes nothing.

my heart in the song

I recently experienced a bit of a traumatic event, which I fully intend to blog about very soon. But it left me fearful and sent me into a seclusion of sorts, even from (especially from) God. So this morning I opened my bible and put on a worship song. And then I was on my knees.

“Here I am, down on my knees again, Surrendering all, Surrendering all…”
 I know. I’ve been here before. I thought “all” meant “all” the last time I surrendered all. So I want to apologize for this white flag, but I can’t. I’m too exhausted. Made weak by my own strength.  I tried to buck up, suck it up, just move forward and move on. I wanted to be a big girl. A grown up. A warrior. Instead, here I am, down on my knees surrendering all. Again.
 “Find me here, Lord as You draw me near, Desperate for You, Desperate for You”
 Are You surprised by my desperation? Shouldn’t I be out moving mountains and slaying darkness with confidence? Shouldn’t there be a bible study or sermon that took hold, preventing me from landing in this place, trying to bat away condemnation for being so desperate? For You. The One I have been avoiding, running from for days, maybe longer. Are You surprised, like me, that my desperation is for You?
 “Drench my soul, as mercy and grace unfold, I hunger and thirst, I hunger and thirst”
 Don’t be thrifty. Not today. I need all You have to give. Mercy. For things done and undone. Said and unsaid. For the second guessing, the what if’s and the why’s. Mercy for the bruises left by my self-loathing. Mix it with Grace. Water that washes it all away, leaving me back on my feet but not far from my knees.
 I know. I should be full by now, because You have poured and poured and poured. But this is me. Panting, hands cupped like a beggar. Begging for more. And in the air around me a question hovers – “Why are you here, begging, again?”, and the implication reeks of shame.

Because I hunger. Because I thirst. Because I know that if I come, He will give. Because what He has never runs out.

 “With arms stretched wide, I know You hear my cry, Speak to me now, Speak to me now.”
 I just need Your voice to say something, anything. Is that ok? Is it ok that my heart is hiding right now, and the only thing that will bring it out is Your voice? Is it ok that all of my desperation, all of my hunger, all of my flag waving on my knees surrender it all again comes down to “speak to me God. Please.”?
 And so I heard, finally. Because He had been speaking all along, but my heart had hands over my ears and my eyes shut tight because I have been afraid. But here on my scratchy carpet with the song playing from the little speakers attached to my old computer, the hands came down,  and I discovered the real fear. The one I hadn’t named.

“I’m with you.”

Three words that spoke many more.

“I am here, not over there waiting for you to get over it. Peace is here, not around the corner waiting for you stop being afraid.  Mercy is here, not over there waiting for you to feel bad enough, sorry enough, or anything enough.  Grace is here, not waiting somewhere else for you to get stronger and braver. Love is still here. Right here.  I am not mad at you, disappointed in you or finished with you.  I am not waiting for you. I am with you.”

Thank You Jesus, for hearing my heart in the song. For knowing what to sing back to me.

“I Surrender” – Hillsong Live

 
 
 

leave there. come here.

Look down. That’s my new thing. If I’m walking, I’m watching. For crickets. Or spiders the size of my fist. Or tiny lizardy things that are blazingly fast when you’re chasing them around your kitchen. I live in Texas now, so the way I do life has changed. I will never again go to Taco Bell when I want something mexican(ish). I am now free to say y’all, and to smile and say hi to everyone I see. Because über-friendliness isn’t weird down here, it’s just the way of life. So is slow driving, but I can only adapt to so much at one time. So I wave and smile as I pass everyone on the road. That’s about the best I can do right now.

If I pull back from my microscopic stare at my life, the view is dizzying. There came an invitation. Pack. Let go and just go. Leave known, go to unknown. Trust. Believe. Now go.

Illinois seems so far behind and at the same time just right over there. Texas is so present, yet elusive. I’m not back there, and not yet fully here. But God isn’t waiting for me to get acclimated. I feel His breath blowing on embers. I hear His deep calling to mine. Pray. Listen. Hear Me. Feel Me. Know Me. Come higher, go deeper.

On the surface, it may seem like just a location change. A few minor adjustments and life should just keep on keepin’ on. It could be true if my God did anything on a surface level. If His invitations were ever to ordinary. But that has never been the case. Ever.

His voice has been whispering to me in the quiet hours… “called is invited. look at the invitation. look closer at what you have been called to…see what I have invited you to.”

The Gospel is a bloody invitation to step from this life into another.

To undergo a radically altered existence. To live beyond ordinary, beyond self, beyond…here. It isn’t about inviting Jesus into our lives. It’s about dropping everything and running to Him to find life. It is His invitation to leave our lives to be with Him, and in being with Him, to become like Him.

We are those called by God. The invited ones. Not once invited, always invited. To more.

This is what I am compelled to explore. The calling of God. This continual invitation to leave there…come here. Come closer. Come higher. Come deeper. You have been invited to more than you think.