Tag Archives: God

drum beats

It began with Believing for Wonderful. Then there was a teaching in the discipleship school. We wrote on a name tag the negative word that describes how we really tend to identify ourselves. My name tag was too small. I wrote Insecure because it was the least revealing and I wasn’t ready for this class of 33 strangers to know that I could have covered my whole body in name tags.

doorwayAnd I hated that this door had been opened because I’ve marched to the rhythm of what is behind it and I don’t know another way to march.

 I want to slam that door but God opens doors that no man can close. 

And now my soul is open and my name tags have been exposed and I can feel the beat of the liar playing my song full of ‘you are’s…’ and ‘you are not’s…’. And I know I get to choose but choosing is hard when you’ve marched this long to one song. Even when you know the song is a lie.Continue reading “drum beats”

raise the bar

I was reading the story of the widow’s offering from Mark 12, and I really thought that’s what I would write about. But then I kept reading.

“As Jesus was leaving the temple, one of His disciples said to Him, “Look, Teacher! What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!” Mark 13:1

And all I could think was “we’ve set the bar way too low”. Impressing humans isn’t all that hard.

Got a lot of money? We’ll give you the best seat in the house and oddly enough, we’ll give you free stuff. Because you’re rich and we’re impressed and it makes perfect sense that dinner would be on the house.

Beautiful? Wanna know how impressed we are by your beauty? We will stop eating. Stop. Eating. And we will get cut on, injected, plumped up and rearranged so that we can look like you. Because you’re pretty. And we find that impressive.

Good at your job? So good you’re famous? Well then we’re gonna need your autograph, mister.

And if you’re a star in the sports world…forget about it. We are your best friend. We’ve got your back. Cause you hit that ball like a boss and that impresses us.

If you move us at all, you too can become the next best thing. The preacher, teacher, worship leader we all rave about and secretly wish we could be.

There’s a reason that the bar the world has set for impressiveness is so low. They don’t know God.

The Body of Christ has no excuse for a low bar. 

“Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.” Isaiah 40:26

We know this God. He lives in us and we belong to Him. He is our Father and we are His children.

He has always been and will always be. He owns heaven and earth. He spoke the world into creation and formed a man out of dust. He can make mountains melt like wax and He gave the seas their limits. Demons tremble and darkness flees from His presence.

He hung every star and He knows their name and He knows the number of hairs on every head and every time a bird falls, He knows.

He brought water from a rock and rained down food from heaven. He keeps the snow and hail in storehouses and He knows where the lightning begins. The sun and the moon, light and darkness…they all obey His commands.

He can feed 5,000 people with a few fish and some bread and have leftovers. He walks on water, tells the storm to calm down and brings the dead back to life.

He stepped out of heaven to take the punishment for our sins. He died for sinners so that He could call them friends.

And because death could not hold Him, it will not hold us.

There is no power like His power and nothing, nothing at all can stand against Him. Nothing is too hard for Him. His Name is above every other Name and in that Name the blind see and the lame walk.

He pours out His Spirit and we dream dreams and we prophecy and we call Him Abba. Papa. Father. He pours out His Spirit and we are changed and we know what we never knew and we see what we had never seen.

He is clothed in splendor and majesty and the heavens and the earth declare His glory and rocks are ready to praise Him if we won’t. Rocks will praise Him if we won’t.

His throne is in heaven and ten thousand upon ten thousand angels encircle Him, crying “Holy!”. And all of heaven is waiting and the day will come when they will wait no more. The seals will be opened and the horses will be called forth. The day of reckoning will come upon the earth.

And those who are His will see their salvation at last.

Beloved, we should raise the bar for what impresses us.

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.

it’s time to jump

high diveI only jumped one time. That was enough. When I take my mind back to that moment, I can still feel the fear. I saw others jump with ease, and go right back for more. I knew I could swim. I knew that the water was safe. I believed the mechanics of jumping, that if I went straight in, the water would catch me, I would touch the bottom and push my way back to the surface. And the one time I jumped, it happened just like that. I think I was crying when I got out of the water, and I never, ever climbed that high dive again. I remained terrified of jumping, but I never understood why.

(because believing and trusting are not the same)

I was watching a group of kids recently, barely toddlers. They were in the playroom at church, climbing up through the giant tubes and tunnels, sliding down and going right back for more. Only a few held back, content to go up the few steps so they could come down the small slide. But most of them were absolutely fearless. It never occurred to them that something bad could happen to them. We had led them in there and turned them loose to play, so they played with abandon.

(adults believe. children trust)

And then life happens. Hearts get broken. Innocence gets taken. We fall, we get hurt, we find ourselves alone. We learn the hard truth that not everyone is good, and sometimes, everything doesn’t turn out okay. Sometimes things just get worse. And fear comes in and bullies our trust into submission.

(“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”)

Jesus said we must change and become as little children. Change is a process. It takes time to grow from an adult into a child. To learn the truth that God is good. But time belongs to God and God cannot be bullied by fear. Instead, He sends love into the fight. And like ocean waves it just keeps coming, beating back the fear that keeps us from jumping. Because trust and fear do not dwell together, no sir, one of them must go, and God cannot be bullied.

Trust renders us dependent upon the one we are trusting. Isn’t that it, really? It’s the falling backward, trusting the one standing behind you to catch you that makes us vulnerable, wholly dependent on someone else’s ability to be trusted. No control. And isn’t the need for control the darkest place in our heart, after all? Isn’t that the biggest fear of them all?

(“but there is a God in heaven…”)

And the hardest thing about growing from an adult to a child is realizing that we never did have control. Not really. Some would call it an illusion. I think deception is a more fitting name.

Do I dare say my next thought? The one that keeps pulsing against my heart? Believing makes you safe. Trusting makes you dangerous.

(because believers rarely jump)

I am a believer, becoming a child who trusts. Because God has refused to be wave1bullied by my fear and love has been beating against my heart like ocean waves.

And He has me at the high dive again. I believe He is with me. I believe He is good. I believe He has good plans for me. But none of that will get me to jump.

I have to trust Him to catch me.

Luke 18:16; Matthew 18:3; Daniel 2:28

Note:  Many times Jesus asked, “do you believe?”, or He said that someone’s faith had healed them, etc. Both of those words contain, within their biblical definition, the word ‘trust’, and the idea of going beyond having a knowledge of something to actually trusting what you believe. In other words, when Jesus said “do you believe Me?”, He was asking “do you trust Me?”.

Webster’s dictionary does not use the word ‘trust’ in its definition of the word ‘believe’, and I am convinced that neither do many of us.

for you i pray

I wanted to tie 2012 up in a nice bow, bid it a fond goodbye, wax poetic about lessons learned and new beginnings and such. But my heart keeps turning away from all of that, bidding my mind to stop chattering long enough to just listen. And the weight of what I hear bends my heart, bowing it low. Voices from this past year. Conversations I’ve heard, words I’ve read. And I feel the Holy Spirit in this little room, this prayer room. I feel His weight on my heart as He reminds me to step out of my small story. And so I enter yours, with prayer…

hanging_by_a_threadFor those who spent this year hanging on by a thread. Maybe it’s a thread of hope. Maybe a thread attached to the hem of His garment, but a thread nonetheless. For you, I pray you will stop trying to trust Him. Trust is not something you try, it’s something you choose. He wants so much more for you than a thread of hope, a thread of trust. He wants handfuls for you. I pray that you will not be content with a thread in hand, but that you will let go of His garment and grab onto Him, and find your hands overflowing, unable to contain what you hold. For you, the thread holder, I pray ~

“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.”

A year of both hands full of Christ, holding on to all of Him with trust and confidence, and hope that overflows. Both hands, beloved, grab onto Him with both hands, and let go of the thread.

PENTAX ImageFor those who suffered great loss and spent time in the ash heap of mourning. For you, the one now familiar with great sorrow and what surely feels like unquenchable pain. I pray you will know His comfort, like a balm, for that pain. I pray God opens His hand and pours forth joy, like oil over your mourning heart. I pray that at just the right time, His time, He will invite you to dance. Yes, beloved, you have known the time to mourn, but there is still a time to dance. I pray that this year you will receive grace to comfort others with the comfort you have received. I pray for all of your pain, all of your grief, every tear to be used, nothing wasted. And I pray that His promise will strengthen you on those days when grief attempts to hijack your heart ~

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

I pray that you will emerge from the ashes, steadfast and sure that all of this, the pain, the tears, the death, are all temporary conditions. That you will know and give others the hope that a reunion will happen, a holy hand will wipe away the last of the tears, and never again will you know this pain.

For those who spent the year afraid. Afraid something will never end, or perhaps that nothing will begin. Afraid of too much or not enough. Afraid that you didn’t hear Him right, or that you did. Afraid of what you feel, or of the fact that you feel nothing and maybe you never will. What if nothing changes? What if everything changes? For the one tormented by fear, I first pray peace for your wildly beating heart. I pray that this year He will lead you on a journey of letting go of fear. A journey of cliff jumping into faith, arms wide, heart fully expecting to be caught by His hands. I pray that you will know that He is with you, always, and that He will not drop you. I pray that your heart will come to know perfect love in the deep places where fear often hides. For you, the one who lived this year full of fear, I pray you will hear the voice of your Savior ~

“Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

I pray that this will be a year of increasing faith for you, the year where belief in the power and love of your God leaves no room for fear.

For the one who lived with disappointment. Unmet expectations that took the wind out of your sails throughout the year. Hopes and plans and dreams that fell apart. Your heart grows weary. I pray for you, dear one. I pray that this will be the year of renewed hope in God, and lower expectations in people. I pray that all of your hope, every last drop of it, will be in God and God alone. I pray for strength to hold on, and strength to let go. To let go of people and hold firmly to God, where your hope will find no disappointment. I pray that this year will find your prayers being answered, for God knows what hope deferred does to our hearts.

“But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love…”

Hoist your sails again, friend, and lift your voice in prayer with confidence that your God hears, your God sees, and your God will answer. His love will not fail.

For the one who tried. You tried being good enough. Tried praying, tried church. Tried to read the bible full of words you don’t understand. Tried to be nicer. Tried saying the right things the right way, tried fitting in. You followed the list of do’s and don’ts. You tried, but your life is still a mess. Your heart is still empty and so are your pockets. Your addiction still rages, and your marriage is still broken. And you just don’t get it. For you I pray that this was the last year.

The last year that you remain pinned to the ground by the enemy. The last year that you live unaware of Love. Unaware that there is a Father in heaven who created you, longs for you, and gave up His Son so that you could know Him.

I pray someone will be brave enough to walk up to you and tell you the truth; that what you need is grace and trying isn’t currency to buy it with because grace is free, and only grace can put us back together and Jesus has the grace to give if you will just come. Come, while you are yet a sinner. While you are yet broken and messy, with all that rages in you and against you…come. I pray they tell you that trying won’t save you, it takes dying and Jesus did that dying for you.

cross1

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

For you, my messy, broken friend, I pray that this was your last year of trying. I pray this is the year you cry out to Jesus in faith that He is who He said He is…the only One who can save you. I pray this is the year you find freedom in Christ, and you find out just how loved you really are by Him. I pray this is the year someone tells you.

To all my friends, family, and those I encounter through the written word…I pray for you, and for me…

Our Father in heaven, Your name be honored as holy.
Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.And do not bring us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.

Happy New Year!

Romans 15:13; Ecclesiastes 3:4; Revelation 21:4; Ephesians 3:17-18; 1John 4:18; Mark 5:36; Psalm 33:18; Romans 5:8; John 14:6; Matthew 6:9-13

2:00 a.m. and my heart is full

My little office/prayer room. Couch, cozy blanket. Candles burning, filling the room with the smell of cinnamon. Bibles, books and journals spilled out onto the couch.

(All Sons and Daughters are singing Called Me Higher. Makes me close my eyes and sway to the sound.)

My bible is next to me, a worn but comfortable friend. I begin to randomly turn pages, feeling His breath rising up from the words.  I breathe it in deep and my thoughts respond.

“And God said ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”   Profound power. This “Let there be” that is obeyed every time…it makes me crave Your voice over my life.

“He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; He seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor”  You don’t push down, You raise up. I want to be like You.

“…You are the ruler of all things. In Your hands are strength and power…”  All things. All. Things. And the hands that hold me and mine and all things, they are strong, powerful hands.

(And now Jason Upton is singing You Are Holy and I have to stop.)

“This is what the Lord says—Israel’s King and Redeemer, the Lord Almighty: I am the first and I am the last;  apart from me there is no God. Who then is like Me? Let him proclaim it.”  The silence is deafening. You stand alone in Your God-ness. You came first, You will be last, with none in-between. I bow right here, in the silence of no other god.

“The Lord said to me, “Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the Lord loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods and love the sacred raisin cakes.”  Such a scandalous love, and You don’t hide it.  It is overwhelming. Unearthly. Heavenly.

“Come to Me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”  The invitation to rest. I’m so glad that You know that the world I live in continually calls me to “do more, go farther, be better”. You know the weight of the yoke I am prone to come under; the one that has “Not enough” written all over it. I love that You know. And You invite me to You. To rest. If I will just come.

“In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.”  Rich grace. Poured out, not measured. I am over my head deep in this grace. I want to live it, give it to others, let it be the lens that I look through. I don’t want to keep looking at the world through squinty, judging eyes behind the closed door of my life. I want to open them all wide.  Teach me grace.

It’s 2:00 a.m. and I am finally tired.

(Fittingly, Jason Upton sang one final song…)

..to end my time of breathing in His breath, surrounded by the warmth of candles, Presence, and the scent of cinnamon. My heart is full, having discovered again that His heart is good.

Genesis 1:3    1Samuel 2:8   1Chronicles 29:12   Isaiah 44:6-7   Hosea 3:1   Matthew 11:28   1Corinthians 1:8-9

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.