Merry Christmas. Today I would like to speak to those who just do not feel all that merry. I'm just going to lay it all on the line today. I hope that is okay.
For the last few months, it has been harder and harder for me to write. Hope deferred has made this heart sick and shame has surrounded me as I should know better. I have been in what I call my Elijah season. Hiding in a cave, going through the motions day to day, taking care of the people and things entrusted to me but my heart has not been in it.
I sat down this morning, after a night of thoughts whirling through my mind. After days of pondering so much about the Christmas story.
You see, I have been on the verge of walking away. The enemy has played with my mind and emotions so much in the last few months. The messages repeatedly taunting me, "you were not good enough", "you are unlovable", "what a mess you have made", "there is no hope', "what is the use?" "look at all you did and where did it get you?", "there is no justice" and "even God has abandoned you".
It has crossed my mind on more than one occasion in the last few months to completely walk away from organized religion. Shocking? Maybe to most, but I'd be willing to venture that if truly honest, many people have felt the same way at some time.
It has even crossed my mind to completely abandon my faith. The enemy's message, "this faith that you have clung to has done you no good" and "all things work together for those you love the Lord, except me".
In the last few years I have seen the righteous fall, I have seen the self professed Godly, do the most ungodly things. I have seen those that claim Christianity ruin the lives of so many without the blink of an eye and it has made me sick and weary and question this .god that I have served. Does he care? Is he really there? How could He allow all of this and so much more?
So I entered this Christmas season trying to fill the void with all the trees and trimmings, baubles and bows, greenery and gifts. And yet nothing seemed to lift the sadness that has overwhelmed me. Please do not misunderstand me, I am more than grateful for all that I have. I love my children dearly and the Lord has allowed me a good job and a decent home, yet in these last days I feel so much regret for wasted potential and so much sorrow for what might have been.
I have sat down several times to write to you what the Lord has been speaking to me in the last few days. Over and over in my thoughts and mind he has brought to me just how much we have gotten wrong. I'm not just talking the commercialism we will all admit has gotten out of hand, but of how we have lightened and diminished the enormity of the sacrifices made for the redemption of man.
How it was not a silent night in Bethlehem. How Mary was just a young frightened girl risking her life for a plan set in motion thousands of years before her birth. How Joseph made a choice to do the right thing when he had other choices. How Jesus left the glory and splendor of Heaven to come to Earth as the most helpless of creatures, mercifully given the gift of not remembering all that the planned entailed for just a little while. How the angels first appeared to the lowliest of an entire population to show that the plan of redemption and salvation was for all. Not just kings and queens, the educated and the lofty but for the meek simple man, men whom the whole world would pass by as insignificant. Men who spent a life of loneliness and solitude.
I have started four attempts at a Christmas message. Each is a few paragraphs in length, some a little more, but getting the words adequately on the page has been more than a struggle.
Last night in between writing I read several other blogs I follow, read a couple of devotionals and even listened to a sermon by a friend's pastor. Each with the same theme as the thoughts that have consumed me for days. We have it so wrong.
This morning I attempted two more posts and still could not get through them. Frustrated, I arose from my perch and went to linger in a hot bath. As is my ritual so often I took my mobile device with me and while soaking, I listened to last Sunday's sermon from one of my favorite preachers.
Sometimes God does intervene. If I had not slowed down for that bath, if I had gotten right into the hustle and bustle of making cookies I would not have stopped to listen to this very real, very timely, sermon that apparently I needed to hear this morning.
Perhaps some of you are where I have been this morning. there must be a reason, huh? And so today, leave you with someone else's thoughts. 30 minutes of your time is all I ask, I promise it will be worth it. Merry CHRISTmas dear friend. May the enormity of the price paid for you overwhelm you this Christmas season.
Good morning readers, all four of you. I'm sitting here this morning among the unfamiliar. Oh I have my fire going in the tiny little fireplace and I have my worship music in my ear buds so I do not disturb the children but the only familiar icons this Christmas are the steady Georgia rain pouring on the roof and the familiar brown elixir in my cup. Now, don't jump to any conclusions. In my cup this morning in the place of my usual cream laden coffee is a cocoa cola, also as iconic and as familiar to Georgia as peaches and peanuts.
Scattered about are a few other familiar items, my great grandmother's churn and various pottery jugs adorn the hearth, my aunt's antique tea table serves as a side table and my great grandmother's crescent side table is my new entry table. The only piece of furniture from my past life , my hall tree, creamy yellow, tall in the entrance of my hallway, is the only link to my previous life in this tiny little living room. The first Christmas gift bought for me by my husband for the new house we had dreamed of for so long and finally built in 2003. Every other piece is new to me. Even the tree and its trimmings are new this year. Once again the precious keepsake ornaments have been carefully and loving boxed away. It is still too painful to even unwrap them from their cocoons of dainty white tissue paper.
New furnishings, a new tiny, cozy cottage of a house, new decorations and as I sit here in the dimly lit morning I cannot help but ask the question, "how did I get here?'. Not just to this little house, but to this life that it now appears is mine. A life as unfamiliar to me as the surroundings in which I find myself. This was not the plan.
My "plan" was to watch my children grow up in that house along side their father. My plan including many family Christmases in that big 3000 square foot house, built by my design and with alot of the work being done ourselves. The plan included the two of us sitting in our porch swing watching children and grandchildren come and go, through the years to come. But Satan had a plan as well.
And so it has been all this season, my mind and heart have been focused on the unfamiliar. The things that come up into your life to disrupt the normal. The detours that take us down uncharted paths. The chaos that interrupts our plans.
In my mind's eye, I see poor Joseph. I see him sitting there in the dark, quiet of the stable. Mary lies at his feet, asleep from exhaustion in the soft clean straw he has just gathered for her. Cradled in her young, tiny arm, wrapped in scraps of cloth, sleeping soundly, seemingly and mercifully unaware of his destiny, the son of God, the Savior of the world, Emmanuel...God with us.
I would imagine this was a sleepless night for Joseph. The very presence of God, entrusted to his care. The look on his face one of excitement, bewilderment, fear, amazement, worry and worship all at the same time. I imagine his thoughts to be "how did I get here? "This was not the plan'
Suddenly, inconveniently just months before, his plans were interrupted and a new plan began.
" an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for the child who has been conceived in her is of the Holy spirit"" Matthew 1:20
A contemporary Christmas song was written years ago, it has always been one of my favorites. It's lyrics make the characters of the Christmas story seem so much more human. We tend to take our Biblical characters and give them superhero status. We forget that Joseph, the man, was just that...a man. And if Mary were here today in the same circumstances, DFACS surely would have started an investigation by now.
The lyrics to this simple song remind me that the stories we are so detached from involved humans just like us, people with doubts, fears, dreams, hopes, insecurities and chaos.
"why me? I'm just a simple man of trade
why Him, with all the rulers in the world?
Why here, inside this stable filled with hay?
Why her, she's just an ordinary girl?
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say,
but this is such a strange way to save the world"
I identify with this Joseph, the one sitting there with his head in his hands trying to absorb and make sense of all that has transpired around him. I imagine it all felt so surreal to him. He had a plan. He had chosen his bride, as was customary to his people and was waiting out the time of courtship until the day of the wedding feast. In the midst of his planning and celebration, what seems like a sucker punch to the gut. His chosen one is pregnant, it is not his child. How did I get "here"? This was not the plan.
I will never be known as the mother who did everything right and that's okay, as long as my children remember me as the mother who did the right thing. It has not been easy. To tell the truth it has been down right hard. Every morning instead of having help to get two kids out the door, its just me. Every month, instead of two salaries to pay all the bills and provide for my little family, its just mine (and while there is a tiny amount of support that comes in each month, it is not nearly enough to touch our monthly expenses). Every time one of the kids over steps their boundaries, it is I alone, who determines the consequences of their actions and when they are sick it is I alone who nurses them back to health. Now I don't say all of that to gain sympathy or put myself on a pedestal. I am in far better shape than that of some single parents on the same path. I say it simply to say this, sometimes in life our road is chosen for us and our plan is altered not of our own choosing. But like Joseph, it is the man or woman who does the right thing that has my respect.
Joseph had a choice in all of this. His circumstances had been altered without him lifting a finger. Nothing he had done had brought him to this place. He could have walked away, he could have called off the wedding, for that matter, he could have had Mary killed, her punishment for betrayal could have been death. Yet poor Joseph was a Godly man, a man who when the Holy Father spoke to him, in the form of the angel Gabriel, chose to do what the Father asked.
And here tonight in this dark, cold, damp stable, smelling of animals and without what little comforts he would have had at home, the enormity of his earthly purpose must have shaken Joseph to his core. Can you imagine the weight that was on Joseph that night? I can. I can imagine just how overwhelming it all must have been for him. That among the blessing of being a part of the greatest story every told, the realization of his responsibility left him breathless.
When we envision the Biblical characters, we tend to forget that they too were made in the same image as we. It's easy for us to think that God told Abraham to sacrifice Issac and that Abraham had no questions, he just got up and took his son to the mountain. Or that God called Moses and that Moses, the man, didn't lay awake at night and wonder how this insurmountable task placed before him was going to come to fruition.
We sing Silent Night, Holy Night, however if we truly considered the circumstances, this night was anything but silent and holy. The little town of Bethlehem was not decorating in greenery and bows awaiting the birth of their Savior. It was a night like any other, busier than usual as the descendants of David crowded the streets from all over the realm of Herod's reign to be counted in the census. Telephones, internet and Travelocity were not in existence during this time and in this tiny town no reservations had been made in preparation. Like locusts, the droves of weary travelers descended upon a town ill prepared to accommodate them. This night would have been busy, bustling and noisy, first come first served, often is.
There was nothing Holy about this night either. We sit in our padded pews and pretty walls which we consider Holy and not unlike us, everything the people considered Holy during their time consisted in the gold and marble confines of the temples. The damp, musky, moldy and mildewed walls of the stable, most likely carved into the rocky hillside was in complete opposition to the opulent temples where the Holy One was thought to dwell.
Even the fact that the babe was wrapped in strips of cloth was a sign that the birth itself came more quickly than either expected. Had they been expecting his birth anytime soon, there would have been blankets and provisions, or had they had time to seek out family members or friends living in the village, there would have been a midwife to help with the delivery. And yet, in here in this small cave of a stable, among the dirt and the dung, sat Joseph, watching his young wife sleep, the son of God sleeping soundly beside her in a town that had no room for the one who came to save it inhabitants. This was not the plan.
It would not be far fetched to imagine that Joseph felt like a failure.
Joseph knew that his plan was not coming along as he had hoped.
We are quick to say that everything happens for a reason, and I do believe that this is true, but when you are the one walking this journey it is very difficult to remember this. You begin to believe it may be punishment. It is easy to allow the circumstances to overwhelm you. In the midst of your pain, it does not feel like a plan. It feels like chaos.
When your spouse chooses to leave, when the diagnosis comes, when your finances take a devastating blow, when death rears its ugly head, it does not feel like any plan you want to participate in. When well meaning people are quick to tell you that God had this in his plan all along, you begin wondering just how much does God hate you, that this would be His plan for you. When Jeremiah 29:11 is offered to you from those that are surely well intentioned, it is easy to think surely no good can come of this.
I can imagine Joseph sitting there in the cold dark night, travel weary and worn, afraid and overwhelmed. I can see him reach into the recesses of his mind for the promises from the scriptures that he would have set to memory in his youth. I can see the tears run down his dusty cheeks, falling in droplets to the dirt floor of the cave, asking the Father, "are you sure this is the plan?" Then quietly he stokes the small fire he has built, he gathers more small pieces of wood to keep the fire burning. He feels the brow of Mary to be certain she is well, he leans close to the small infant who now is his own and he listens for the tiny breaths like all new fathers do. He settles himself back down to watch over his new family and his choice is made.
This will not be easy, in fact, it will be hard. This will be tumultuous. It will not end well, most likely and yet like all the men of God he is descended from, he will be obedient to the call placed upon his life. Despite his questions, despite the lack of answers, in spite of his fears he will do the right thing. He will obey the voice of the Lord and trust that while this was not in his plans, the Father had set a plan in motion. One prayer, one act of obedience at a time the promise will unfold for Joseph and his little family.
And so dear friends, here we are, another Christmas. For many of us we find ourselves on journeys we did not plan. For many of us, the path we are on is not one we would have chosen and it is hard to see how good can come from our circumstances and that is okay for today. It is okay if we don't have it all figured out. It is okay to be human and feel what we feel.... our God understands this. He understands the doubt, the fears, the bewilderment we experience when our surroundings are unfamiliar to us. He understands the questions after all it is He who created us, formed in His image.
Our part of the plan? Like Joseph, to heed the voice of the Lord. To be obedient to His voice. To do what is right, when another path seems so much better and so much easier. To trust that ultimately, He, the Father, does have a plan of redemption for those who are faithful to His call. This morning I am overwhelmed by the knowledge that God will honor our obedience just as he did noble Joseph. The Glory of Heaven came to Earth, in human form, entrusted to a lowly carpenter for just a little while. An earthly father, chose do that which God deemed right, though it wasn't in his plans.
Oh, wash yourselves! Be clean! Let me no longer see you doing all these wicked things; quit your evil ways. Learn to do good, to be fair, and to help the poor, the fatherless, and widows.
Come, let’s talk this over, says the Lord; no matter how deep the stain of your sins, I can take it out and make you as clean as freshly fallen snow. Even if you are stained as red as crimson, I can make you white as wool! If you will only let me help you, if you will only obey, then I will make you rich! But if you keep on turning your backs and refusing to listen to me, you will be killed by your enemies; I, the Lord, have spoken. Isaiah 1:16-20
I have never been one to be a big collector of themed items. Okay, there was the unfortunate unicorn phase of the 80s and the cliche Gone With the Wind phase of the 90s, but in my defense, it wasn't really me collecting them, most were gifts from people who knew I liked them. So it has never been my practice to really create themed Christmas decor.
My kids have usually had their favorite things on their trees. John Paul had the GA Bulldog tree for a while, Chrissi's tree was a mixture of the obligatory girlie Barbie, Disney Princesses and Wizard of Oz. Stanley Chris has always loved wild life and then there was the tree of hunting and fishing decor in the upstairs living room in our old house. For the most part, however, Christmas decor was a mixture of what ever shiny object, bauble or ball caught my attention.
For the last four years, I'll just be honest, if I had not had small children, I would have skipped Christmas and hopped a plane to the nearest warm climate at 3:45 on the last day of school before Christmas break, only to return the night before the first day of school in January with a nice tan.
This year my children and I have finally begun to get into the spirit of decorating again. And I must make another confession, I have overspent incredibly this year on new Christmas decor. I hang my head in shame (insert shameless snicker here) somehow I do not know that we will ever be able to unwrap the treasured yet painful memories of Christmases past in the form of delicate ornaments that were collected for 20 years. The stories collected with them are bittersweet reminders of empty spaces and empty places that may never be filled again.
I began my morning as I often do on Saturdays and days off. A cup of coffee, a fire in the fireplace and my devotions. I go to my social media and visit the devotional pages I frequent there as well. My friend Troy Davis has posted a good word this morning (I always enjoy reading his posts and those of his wife Shannon. There is much truth, learned the hard way, as mine was, in their posts)
This morning Troy is discussing the little sins. I sit here in the early morning and my heart and mind begins to ponder his words. I look around my dimly lit little living room, the one that I would not even possess if it had not been for those little sins. (you can scratch your head here, I promise I will get to the point in a moment) Here in this cozy little space we are decorated for Christmas. Hanging from the tree and from the mantle this year, we once again have a theme, purely unintentional I promise, yet a significant life lesson.
The theme this year? Snowflakes
So now you may ask, "what do snowflakes and sin have in common?" I'm so glad you asked.
Troy's post was on how even a "little sin" can separate us from God and how sinful patterns are dangerous.
Now if you know me at all, you know that I am NOT a cold weather girl, but I do love a good snowfall. For about a day, then I'm over it. But.... did you know that it is estimated that there are over 1 billion crystals in a cubic foot of snow? That's a lot of ice....Brrrrrrrr!
My northern friends know just how dangerous cubic foot after cubic foot of the beautiful, fluffy white layers of ice can be. In March of 1973 and 1994, we here in central Georgia experienced a relatively small experience of what an accumulation of snow can do. For days our worlds came to a stand still as we all stood in wonder, trying to figure out how to get out of this mess we were in.
So it is with the sin that so often separates us from our Heavenly Father. Often times it begins with something that may not even appear to be sin or something we can easily justify and rationalize away, yet left unrepented it can escalate into an unrecognizable and overwhelming situation before we know it. We can find ourselves in situations that we would never have thought ourselves capable of. The enemy's plan is complete in one small act of disobedience.
Our enemy has one purpose, that is to destroy the Kingdom of Christ and he does this one person, one family, one church at a time. As we look around in the media and even in the pews of our churches, where families once filled the empty seats, it would be easy to believe that the enemy is winning.
I fully believe that those of us who have had a true salvation experience with Christ are granted the indwelling of the Holy Spirit and I believe that He will warn and convict us at the thought of any "tiny sin" that may open the door for destruction and damage down the road. The enemy of our souls does his best to speak lies to our circumstances and all he has to do is great doubt.
The very first sin began in this way. In Genesis we have all heard the story of the fall since childhood. Even the unbeliever is familiar with the story of Eve and the serpent. God had commanded Adam to eat of all the trees of the garden with the exception of one. There are over 2500 known species of fruit bearing tree in the world today, so it is safe to assume that each would have been present at the creation of the the Earth. Adam as the head of his home has passed this knowledge to his wife Eve. Each have been told that surely they will die if they partake of this tree, never understanding that death would not be immediate, but eventual.
In John Bevere's book Good or God, he delves into the truth that often times sin appears to us as something good and that our enemy presents sin wrap in a pretty package, a possibility of all that we think we desire and doubt begins to form. We begin to trust our own judgement and latch on to what we deem as good, while what we really need to do is wait for God's best.
This one event sent the couple, who walked daily with God himself, (the only two mortals to have been granted the earthly privilege of looking into his face) spiraling into the very first family mini drama. Think about it, The Kardasians had nothing on this family, Genoa City couldn't hold a candle to the land just outside the Garden. Eve, the first "Real Housewife" began a landslide for her family, and the rest of mankind, that could easily have been avoided. One generation later and we see greed, envy, murder, and deceit enter into the world and so it has been ever since.
One tiny sin...pride. The tiny sin that can separate us all from the Father. The sin that leads to all others. In this one moment, Eve thought she knew better than God and in the moments when we choose to ignore the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit, we are saying in essence that we know better than God and we are willing to accept temporary good in the place of His plan.
I have seen this play out in my life all too painfully and it is with deep regret that I would beg the reader standing on the edge of decision to heed the nudging of the Holy Spirit to turn from, confess, repent this tiny sin that like one small snowflake can accumulate, easily and inevitably, until you are left standing blindly in a blizzard of sin, shivering in the cold recognition that you do not know exactly how you got here in this place so far from the promise. One tiny sin can begin a storm that leaves you trembling hopelessly, stumbling in hapless direction, aimlessly make one more poor decision after another until it seems that all hope is lost.
Pile one blizzard onto another and another. Add a hillside and one small catalyst and you will have an avalanche. One tiny sin can lead to an avalanche of sins that leaves us unrecognizable, can change us in ways we never thought. Can alter our landscape until it seems our story is nonredeemable.
In 1962 , the largest avalanche ever recorded occurred in the country of Peru. The ice cap of a mountain, Huascaran, Peru's highest summit at 6768 meters, broke away creating an avalanche that dropped 13,900 feet. It traveled for 9 miles until it reached a tiny town of 6000. Rescuers searched for days in the devastation only to find body after body. The landscape changed for ever. All signs of life gone in an instant. There were no survivors.
I think back to a movie that I once saw, One of the Love's Journey movies. In the scene, a violent and sudden blizzard begins while Marty, the heroine of the movie is out on a bluff praying. In the scene, though she is not far from the warmth of her own cabin, the snowflakes are circling, whirling crazily around her to the point that she cannot even see inches in front of her. She has lost her way in the circumstances. Her husband has gone out to search for her and he too becomes lost in the thick white mass of ice hanging in the air. Realizing that her parents are not coming back quickly the daughter goes to the cabin door and begins banging on a pot, giving them a point to focus on in the blinding blizzard so that they may reach home safely again.
One thing the enemy never counted on....generations later, the Son of God, who had been there at the time of creation, came to Earth as redemption's plan. The babe lying in a manger, whose sole purpose was and is to redeem the lost. To right the wrong. To shepherd His own to eternal life with Him.
This is not your warm fuzzy, feel good Christmas blog, just a sincere plea from one who has personally experienced the devastation of one tiny sin. My landscape forever changed by the choices of myself and others. As we begin this holiday season, if this is you this season dear friend. If you find yourself on the edge of a decision that the enemy is telling you is okay. If you have settled for the world's good instead of God's best. If you find yourself stumbling blindly in the midst of a storm caused by one tiny sin, I urge you to find your focus. Heed the voice of the Holy Spirit, surrender it to Jesus. Let Him lead you back home.
It was a
Thursday night. I don't normally sing on Thursday nights. Sometimes we practice
on Thursdays, but we usually do not do a concert. Between work, and homework,
dinner and baths, weekdays are all too hectic to do many concerts on a week
night. As I drove to the church, miles from my new home, I was tired and worn
from a day of work and from arguing with my teenager over the time of curfew on
this particular night, as it was a homecoming night at school and apparently
there were houses to be rolled. (BTW, whoever got mine, I know where you go to
school...I probably know where you live, lol)
Rain had set in about 4:30 this
afternoon. Not a downpour, but enough to be inconvenient. I don't know about
you but I equate a rainy evening with my sweatpants, a ponytail and a comfy
chair. So, if you get my drift...I really wasn't feelin' it.
Don't get me wrong, I love singing for the Lord's purpose, but this night I
just had so many things on my mind, and heart and agenda. One thing that did
make me grumble a little less was that this concert was a fundraiser for a
young girl whom we have known since she and my oldest were kindergarten
classmates. They may or may not have even been grade school sweethearts at one
time. I have worked with her dad and her mom is my banker. This young lady, at
the tender age of 23 has been diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer. So that
night we did not only sing for the Glory of the Lord, but to raise money to
help Rachel with her medical bills.
The sing went a little over the allotted time. It's hard to gauge a person's
reactions sometimes. Sometimes it shows all over their faces. There are those
that you know just love it. They are the ones, smiling, clapping, maybe singing
along. There are those you are sure are only there out of a since of
responsibility or perhaps they lost a bet, who knows, but their demeanor is of
one less than enthusiasm. Then there are those that you just cannot gauge at
all.
There was this one elderly gentleman in the crowd tonight. Many times he leaned
over and spoke to the lady next to him. One minute it appeared he was not
enjoying himself and then the next he appeared to immensely enjoy what he
heard. He was hard to read.
Usually when singing or speaking, I will pick out faces on both sides of the
center aisle. I'll look for the person who is smiling, or crying or who when my
eyes land on their eyes, the Holy Spirit nudges and gently says "this
one". There have been times that I take the hardest looking face in
the room and will bring my gaze back to that one individual to see if my smile
will make them smile. Sometimes, I'm successful, sometimes it is futile effort.
Two verses and a chorus of Just As I Am then ending with OneMoreRiver to Cross, I returned to my seat to help my eight year old
clean up his Legos and prepare for the ride home. I feel a body sit down next
to mine and the next thing I feel is a hand over mine and a whisper at my ear.
"Young Lady, are you spirit filled?"
It is the elderly gentleman. My singing didn't run him off after all. Now, I
will admit, this is not a question that I get very often, but it does come up
more now than ever.
You see, I've been doing this singing thing for quite a while. For many years,
my husband and I had a group. We were quite popular in our area, probably one
of the most popular and most used groups in our area. We had even branched out
into South Carolina, Tennessee and Florida. I do not say that boasting in myself, but only in the
Lord. We had a good following.
We were incredibly blessed, incredibly arrogant and incredibly misleading. Oh,
there was a time when our efforts were well-intentioned and pure. There was a
time when we believed it was all about Jesus, but there was also a time that it
became about men's acclaim and notoriety. We sang of this Jesus, we served in
His name, but we really did not know Him, and while we fooled ourselves we
could not fool the enemy of our souls and he used this fact to steal, kill and
destroy our family.
So when this gentleman asks me this, I simply say, "yes sir". Now,
here is the hard part. He then asks me how frequent had it been. The Lord keeps
me humble by presenting me opportunity to share my testimony. It is a
story of victory through and by the blood of Jesus, but at the same time it is
a story of regret that is my cross to bear.
In March of 2012, the Holy Spirit had been dealing with me for a couple of
months, but it was at this point that I completely surrendered everything to
him. From that point on, my transformation began.
When Jesus returned to Capernaum several
days later, the news spread quickly that he was back home. Soon the house where
he was staying was so packed with visitors that there was no more room, even
outside the door. While he was preaching God’s word to them, four men arrived
carrying a paralyzed man on a mat. They couldn’t bring him to Jesus because of
the crowd, so they dug a hole through the roof above his head. Then they
lowered the man on his mat, right down in front of Jesus. Seeing their faith,
Jesus said to the paralyzed man, “My child, your sins are forgiven.” Mark 2:1-5
In the days this story was occurring,
it was customary for housing to be built of clay, brick and mortar. We tend
to consider any ancient structures to have thatch roofs or makeshift
walls, but this was not the case. The same handmade clay bricks would have
formed the roof as formed the walls of the house. Tiles would have been aligned
over the top to prevent damage and erosion from wind and rain. Understanding
this, it is not far-fetched to say that the men dug into no less than a foot of
cinder block.
Now envision this, the paralytic, not being able to transport himself to the
roof top, must be carried or raised there by a pulley system to even get him
onto the roof. This could have been no less than a major feat of stamina and
strength itself and now, they begin to remove tiles of heavy clay. They then
begin to chip away at the block and mortar that is this roof. Y'all, that's
thicker than a paved road!
These men are desperate! They have to get their friend to Jesus!
In the Gospels we also read of a woman desperate for healing. She has had an
issue of blood for 12 years. Now hold on! I know women who can't get out of the
bed 7 days a month, but this woman has had this issue 12 years! Not only is she
anemic, but she has subjected herself to every possible medical treatment that
money can buy and you know, there was no anesthesia back then, no epidural, no
laparoscopic surgery. This woman has not only suffered from her disease, but
she has also suffered from her cure. As one that has had to overcome many
medical obstacles myself, I can testify that sometimes the cure itself is worse
than the thing you are trying to cure.
But that is not all, she does not even live in the town where she finds Jesus,
so she has had to travel in her weak and unhealthy state. Once she finally gets
into the general vicinity of he and his followers, the area is incredibly
crowded. The accounts say she "pressed" through the crowds. In my
mind, I see her making intentional, deliberate, desperate and enormous effort
to get to where he is. "if I could just touch but the hem of his
garment".
Do you get what she is saying? She is so desperate, that she believes that He
doesn't have to pray over her or lay hands on her, nor does he have to give her
some rote prayer to pray, speak in tongues over her or give her a word. If she
could just touch the hem of his garment. The the lowest point of his person.
This woman is crawling on the ground, in the midst of this crowd. As if
this is not enough, everyone in this town knows who she is and what is wrong
with her. The fence row gossips and the synagogue sisters have spread the word,
she is not clean. She would have had to walk through the crowds, crying
"unclean" to make those around her who did not know her of her
condition aware of her presence. She is risking her own life.
She also risks the life and the reputation of the Messiah. He is a man on a
mission, one that would have officially belong to a Pharisee. He is on the way
to bed side of a dying girl. Acting in this capacity he is expected to be
clean, pure and yet on his way the hem of his garment is touched by one
considered to be unclean. In one desperate act her fingertips brush the lowest
part of his person and she is made whole. In this lowly state her actions
could easily have been overlooked in the crowd, yet Jesus turns and calls her
out. Not to embarrass her but to restore her. Not just physically,
but emotionally and he also restores her standing among her peers. When he
calls her daughter he restores her reputation in the community. In an instant
her desperation has been her deliverance and the one she
is desperate for has become her deliverer. Years of shame fall
in this moment and finally everything she has lost, been separated from,
everything her illness and the enemy took from her are restored. Once again she
can touch her children, she can enter her home with her loved ones, she can sit
a table with friends, she can enter the courtyard of women to give thanks to
the one man, the only man who had the power to bring her peace and wholeness
and to take the broken pieces of her life and make them new again.
Jairus, has summons Jesus to his home. He is a father, desperate to save his
child. This desperate father, though, held station in this town. He is
described in Luke as the "ruler of the synagogue" and though he
is not a priest, it was most likely his job to oversee the business of the
local synagogue. As such, the appointment would have fallen to him to
keep order in the house of God. In his plea to have Jesus come, he has just
committed an incredible act of chaos. The religious rulers have all
put imprisoned Christ for speaking in the local temple and in every town
he continues to anger the governing body of the temple. His ways are not
orthodox and he appears to have no regard for their man made laws and traditions.
Jairus is a man so desperate for the touch of the Messiah that he is willing to
risk his position, his livelihood, his reputation to save his daughter.
It was in the most desperate situation of my life that the Lord chose
to restore me. In my desperation, I reached out for
the Lord. It was not easy either. I had my roof to dig through, I had my twelve
miles to crawl, I had my reputation on the line.
I found myself lying on a mat, relying on friends to pray for me and help
take care of my family. There were times I had to depend on the prayers of the
warriors surrounding me because I could not break through on my own, my faith
was just not strong enough.
I found myself lying in the dust, a broken and bleeding soul crying out
desperately to a God that I was not even sure would even know that I was
there. Trampled, unclean, tired, dying inside I just needed one touch, one
word...just to hear Him call me daughter again.
I found myself desperate enough to risk losing everything. Broken, abandoned, willing
to be exposed to be healed I lost so much in an instant. With one confession
all that I had known was over. Like Jairus, I had no idea if I would ever be
able to walk into the temple again and yet the Lord had much more for me. Like
Jairus' daughter He raised me from the dead. Years of death slumber erased in a
moment of faith.
It took the greatest tragedy of my life to bring me to honesty with myself, my
family and the Holy Spirit. I had to be broken and spilled out to finally
surrender to His will. We sing a song most frequently performed by the
Issacs. It is entitled Honestly. The message in the song
is quite a powerful one. It speaks of that desperation only known to the
soul that recognizes that there is no other hope than Jesus. That desperation
that I felt not so long ago that this man I had sang of, sang in the name of,
was the only hope for my sin sick soul. Battered, broken, deliberately I just
had to get to Jesus. I am grateful that He was there waiting for me.How can I
say that after all the pain? Because just like the man lowered through the
roof, the woman with the issue of blood, Jairus's daughter, my name may never
be known throughout the Earth. Yet when I finally dug, crawled, risked getting
into His presence I was never the same again. And just as he did for each of
these, He called me by another name, one that is written in His book of
Life...he called me His child, His daughter.
The old man recognized nothing about me. He recognized that I had been with
Jesus. Is there anything better to be known for?
So tonight my friend I leave you with a dangerous challenge, it is not one to
enter into lightly. It is not a challenge for the meek or faint of
heart. I leave you to this, seek His presence now, before you must seek him
in desperation. Get honest with yourself and your Savior. Just get to
Jesus! You'll be glad you did.
The newest single from my friends, the Bowling Family featuring Hope: One Glorious Moment of Faith
If you ride through my neighborhood, I am the crazy lady
bent over the flowerbeds with my hiney up in the air like tacky plywood yard
art. As funny as it may seem, I am not trying to be rude to my neighbors or
passers by. I do not have an affliction that leaves me doubled over and I have
not lost something.
I mean, come on…is there really any pretty way to pull
weeds?
When a timber company comes in to clear land and they are
not going to replant, they will leave a healthy tree every so far apart to reseed
that piece of land naturally and eventually it does it’s job, dispersing seeds
that in turn will become seedlings to repopulate the land. I hate a sapling. There…I said it. I know they
are necessary and inevitable, but to me they have come to symbolize sin not
dealt with.
The spring that my world began to crumble there was an unusually
high pollen count and along with this came an incredible number of saplings. I
don’t know, maybe the number was the same as always and I had just never paid
attention before. We lived on 90
acres of planted pines and hardwoods. It seemed that
everywhere I turned there was another tiny pine popping up from the fertile
soil around our house. Small, frail, tufts of green barely breaking through the
dark rich ground or peeking through the straw in the flower beds consumed my
moments spent out side.
In the months after I confessed my indiscretion and the
months after finding out about the affair, during the time when I believed God was
working to mend my marriage, God began to speak to me in these little saplings
and in the multiple things around the house that needed to be repaired or taken
care of. God began to show me how something so small could become so large if
not tended to.
Suddenly these tiny, spraggled tufts of green popping up in
every inch of the yard consumed my moments. Every where I walked, like a crazed
person, I needed to pluck them from the soil in which they were doing what
saplings do…take root.
“Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, for
our vineyards are in blossom.” Song of Solomon 2:15
Solomon in his wisdom spoke in Songs of Songs, “it is the
little foxes that spoil the vineyards” He orders his men to hunt and destroy
the foxes and bring them to him. In these little sprouts, barely able to cling
to the ground, God showed me how quickly the little sins can take root and grow.
I would look into the underbrush that would be burned off soon and God showed
me how quickly these invasive little pines could become a mess of ground cover,
entangling and snaring those who tried to walk through. How hidden dangers of
the venomous snake and spider readily lurked in the disorder and chaos of the
volunteer pines and oaks that quickly grew out of control in the unkept areas
of the woods surrounding the house and cleared areas.
It was while pulling these small pines that seemed to
replenish themselves with two for every one I removed, that God showed me how the smallest, hidden sin remaining and not
covered by grace could easily become out of control and how I had not done my
part to cover my family in protection over the relentless pursuit of the enemy
so that like this tiny green army, our territory had been invaded.
It was in this, the Holy Spirit showed me how my hidden sins
of bitterness and selfishness so easily led me into a pit and how my husband’s
seemingly innocent friendship escalated out of control so quickly and soon
became a tool the enemy used to steal our joy, kill our marriage and destroy
our family. A family once envied lay in shambles, at the feet of those who
should have known how to prevent the enemy’s slaughter. A family in full
blossom, entrusted with the gifts, talents and anointing of the Father, laid
waste by an enemy’s snare that could have been prevented.
When my marriage was over and the children and I moved into
town, the house I purchased was a repossession. The inside was a shamble and
the yard had to be completely reclaimed.
As if the front hedges being overgrown were not enough, the
back fence row had been untouched for years. Small trees, more saplings, weeds
of many descriptions grew with wild abandon between my chain link fence and the
wooden hurricane fencing that separated my little back yard from that of my
neighbor. One of the very first purchases made was that of a hedge trimmer and
a chainsaw.
For hours on end I would cut and hack away at the vines
intertwined in the links of the metal fencing. Every few inches or so I would
clip the thick encroaching vines and then painstakingly pull, tug and unwrap
the vines choking this fence until finally after days of monotonous and
toilsome labor the fence row was finally free from its captor. Sweat mixed with
tears as the Holy Spirit showed me once again a valuable lesson as I ploughed
through the work with calloused and bleeding fingers and palms.
With each tendril of vine that must be unwound to release
its clutches from the fence, the Holy Spirit showed me a picture of how sin so
easily ensnares us if we are not careful.
The vine removed, it was then time to tackle the root. There
is no amount of pesticide, round-up or herbicide that will completely kill such
parasitic flora, with the root still intact tiny shoots will soon emerge again
to grasp and cling to what ever trellis it can find.
As it is with we mere mortals, a sin hidden, covered and
unconfessed, be it by pride or shame, allows the enemy to ensnare us once again
with tiny tentacles that slowly overtake us until it appears all hope is lost
of being free.
When roots are mentioned in the Bible, it is usually in a
context of good. We should be rooted in truth, in the Word, however if the root
of evil is not dug up or conquered in our lives there is no place for the Word
of God to take root. Just as a weed or clinging vine will do, sin not fully
surrendered will slowly ensnare us and choke the very breath of life from our
spiritual lives.
Once again, I am back in yet another yard. This time I
battle oak seedlings. On any given day you will see me bent over the ground,
slowly and deliberately pulling the tiny green shoots from the ground until the
germinated acorn along with its quickly growing root is out of the ground and
into a trash can. Obsessesing, once
again over the smallest of enemies. Trying to fighting tirelessly to remain
ahead of the onslaught ofminiscule
invaders which, left unattended, will quickly become a volunteer tree, deeply
and firmly rooted into a harden ground, where plucking will no longer be the
weapon of choice but more drastic tactics will be needed to rid my yard of
their unwanted presence.
Again another lesson learned in the seemingly endless
amounts of yardwork that comes with home ownership (Oh, how I wish Dublin
had Condos that were affordable). We must remain on guard against sin in our
lives. We cannot let the enemy get a foothold, we must arm ourselves for Holy
battle and remain ever vigilant of the enemy’s tactics. I have heard it said
many times in my life that “if the enemy is not fighting you then he has you”.
This is so true.
Therefore let him who thinks he stands take
heed that he does not fall. No temptation has overtaken you but such as
is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted
beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of
escape also, so that you will be able to endure it 1 Corinthians 10:12-13
We as the church must begin to teach spiritual warfare. The
scriptures warn us that our enemy prowls like a lion, to and fro, seeking whom
he may devour. I fully believe the time has come, we must know our enemy.
2 Timothy 3 (ASV)
3 But know this, that in the last days grievous times shall come.2 For men shall be lovers of
self, lovers of money, boastful, haughty, railers, disobedient to parents,
unthankful, unholy,3 without
natural affection, implacable, slanderers, without self-control, fierce, no
lovers of good,4 traitors,
headstrong, puffed up, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God;5 holding a form of godliness, but having denied the
power therefore. From these also turn away.6 For of these are they that creep into houses, and
take captive silly women laden with sins, led away by divers lusts,7 ever learning, and never able to come to the
knowledge of the truth.
In 1299, prior to the Mongolian invasion of Europe,
the Mongolian officers would often send scouts and spies into the mountainous
areas surrounding the training grounds and battlefields of the European armies.
Tediously studying the strategies and tactics of the opposing armies, for month
on end, leaders such as Batu and Sabutai would infiltrate the European
principalities with map makers, they established trade routes. Men would surmise
the loyalties of each principality and even change the landscape to ensure
swift and expedient demise of the foe.
We have an enemy that is real. His intent is deliberate, intentional
and cunning. That seemingly innocent glance or conversation, the little white
lie, the lust hidden deep in the heart. Each a tiny acorn waiting to become a
mighty oak. Each a tiny tendril of a clinging vine slipping its tentacles
silently and slowly around our hearts and minds until the day of we become
ensnared in the full entanglement of sin.
"Abide in Me, and I in you.
As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so
neither can you unless you abide in Me. 5"I
am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears
much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.6"If anyone does not
abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch and dries up; and they gather them,
and cast them into the fire and they are burned John 15:5-6.
But there is a hope. There is a vine whose name is Jesus. Just
as a vingneron grafts vines together for optimal fruit, we are grafted into
Christ. He is the vine, we are the branches and in his embrace sin no longer
has a death hold on us. Sin holds no condemnation for the heart fully
surrendered to Christ. We must remain in Him to bear good fruit. We must abide in Him, for we can do nothing alone and if we abide in Him, He promises to lead, lead guide and direct us on the path that is good and just and leads to everlasting life.
As for me, I will be
pulling oak seedlings from my yard while abide in Him and with each one, I will say prayers of
protection for my children, for their hearts, minds and souls to fulfill their
purposes in Christ. I will say prayers of protection for my heart, mind and
soul, thanking him for another chance to not only do better but to be His watchman
on the wall and prevent the enemy from gaining any more ground in my family. I
will say prayers for those who have meant to do me harm; that their hearts,
minds and souls will align with the will of the Father. I will claim the
promises that God has given me and, as I dispose of every unwanted seedling, I
will reclaim a little of what the enemy stole from me.
Yep, that will be me, on the corner lot, hind end turned up,
most likely tears in my eyes, thanking God for lessons learned even in the
lowest of places.
I am 47. Some would say this is just a number. Some would say it is old, some it is young. To me it is just a day among many. It is a place in time for 365 days of my life. There are days I feel 18 and there are days I feel 80. There are days this life that come easier than others. There are days I'd rather not walk out the door.
Can I tell you? This life is not what I had planned. Nothing about it resembles the plans I made in my mind years ago. I saw myself in a life, but not this one. I saw myself in a house, but not this one. I saw myself in a family, but not this one. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids with every ounce of my being. Every breath I take is for them, but life has not turned out the way I thought it would.
Three years ago when this journey began, I prayed for, hoped for, begged and believed that there would be a different outcome. Things did not work out according to my plan but He was good. He put people in my path to be His hands and feet here and while they can never replace the one that was lost, there is a bitter sweetness in knowing that had one not left, others would not have come along.
Even a year ago I would have sworn, that I knew God's plan and was finally beginning to see it come to fruition. Once again, things did not turn out the way I thought it were supposed to go. A vision with a prophecy to match. A dream I dared to dream again. And for a moment in time, it made me brave. But sadly it appears, not meant to be.
And if not, He is still good.... Scrolling through Pinterest a few days ago, I saw this in a meme. Something about the phrase hit me between the eyes. It is no secret to those who know me best that the last few months have been more than chaotic and I have been well beyond needing this reminder.
The book of Job has been a place that I spent a lot of time in the last few years. Most of us are very familiar with this story. Job is a man of great righteousness and is regarded by God himself, in highest esteem. The favor of God sat upon Job. He was a wealthy man, well respected among his people. He had land and property, livestock and oil supplies. He was blessed with 10 sons and daughters. When God granted Satan permission to do anything he wished to Job, with the exception of killing him, the old serpent did what he does best, he began to destroy.
Within hours, servants from all throughout Job's land have come trembling in fear with the news that Job has lost everything. His homes, his wealth, his crops, his livestock and his children...all in the blink of an eye, gone. Satan has asked to test one of God's own and Job has been chosen.
Job's friends come to sit among the ashes with him, and yet even in their company, Job finds no solace and comfort. There are times that the company of others can only make us more restless.
Just as familiar as we are with the story of Job's woes, we are also well aware that in the end, everything he lost is replaced and more. Job is found faithful in the eyes of his Father. What the enemy meant for harm, God has used for good.
Joseph's own flesh and blood, put him into a pit and sold him into slavery. Little known to him at the time a plan was put into motion generations before. Instead of being left to die in the pit, he is sold to distant relatives. His captors are Ishmaelites, none other than descendants of the illegitimate son of his grandfather, Abraham.
Years he spent in servitude until one fateful day when the lies of one evil woman take him captive once again. Joseph's story could have ended here. He could have been killed for attempted rape, he could have died in the dungeons of Egypt beneath the city streets he would someday govern for its king. Yet sitting in his prison cell, it appears all has been lost, except Joseph's faith. What his brothers meant for harm, Yaweh redeemed and turned for his good and for the good of the entire nation of Israel.
Daniel is taken into captivity as a young man. In one act, every dream he must have dreamed for himself is taken from him. Forced into a foreign land, he is made a eunuch and placed into service for the king. Through years of service to a king not his own, Daniel remained faithful to the God of his childhood. He has taught and trained his fellow Israelites and has instilled in them an obedience to Yaweh that has on more than one occasion placed him into harms way. It is this same faith that is within Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego when facing their own immortality that has given them the courage to say:
"If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire; and He will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But even if He does not, let it be known to you, O king, that we are not going to serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up."Daniel 3:17-18
It is with these thoughts that I sit tonight, in a town that I did not expect to be in any longer, in a house I did not expect to own, in a life as foreign to my dreams as the adopted lands of Joseph and Daniel.
Over the last few years there have been dreams I've dreamed, there are have been visions I have seen and there have been prophecies spoken over me. Some have come to pass and more have not...yet. All along this journey there have been pits to ensnare me, there have been prisons to prolong me and fiery furnaces to to attempt to take my life. Each and every one put into place by the enemy to bring me harm.
There are still days when the enemy plays with my mind, reminding me of all that I have lost. There are times when the bills need to be paid and one salary is not enough, or both kids still at home need to be in two different directions. Days when the grass needs cutting and all I have is a push mower and something else must be put aside to get it done. Moments when my work day has been less than desirable and there is no one to vent to. There are nights that it would be my hearts desire to have a shoulder to lay my head on and a hand to wipe away my tears.
And what good could has come from all this? Well, there have been lessons learned, people that have become a part of my circle that never would have and opportunities that I never would have had otherwise.
I do not know why God chooses to intervene at times and not at others. I do not know why illnesses are not healed this side of Heaven. I do not know why once Godly people choose to walk their own paths. I cannot fathom the whys, the wheres and the hows of this mortal existence.
I find it hardest to know that He is capable of all things and yet, he gives us free will instead of making us follow his plan. I understand that He wants us to choose to be obedient and to choose to be obedient out of love and not responsibility. So I can say with Job, "though He slay me, yet I will serve him".
Then Job replied to the Lord:
“I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted.
You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’
Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.
"You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.’
My ears had heard of youbut now my eyes have seen you.
Job 42:1-6
For those who do no know my past, it is a story of service for my own benefit and not the benefit of His kingdom. It is the story of a woman who worked in His name but not for His sake. You see, I knew Him but now I have seen Him and though the enemy would do me harm, I will declare " I will not die, but live, and tell of the works of the Lord" Psalm118:17
I have seen His miracles. I have been a part of many. A child that was not supposed to be carried to term, one that was not supposed to be conceived and one that was not supposed to live. He has brought me back from the brink of death on at least three occasions. I have seen miracles and I have held them in my hands and like every child of the God I cling to the promise in Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
And while it appears that I like so many before me have lost it all, what I have gained has by far outweighed the loss in the scope of eternity. A pharisee, a false prophet and a hypocrite has come to terms with the realization that, while in the eyes of man was I was a good person, I had missed the mark. What mattered most was not within me. For all my good deeds had been just that...deeds.
It has only been through the deepest pain of my life that the greatest miracle has come. The miracle of a soul in complete surrender to the Lord, willing to be molded and shaped and used by Him for His Glory. I once was lost, but now I'm found.
In my new home there is a wall in my tiny living room. A wall that screams for something.... a wall that is seen every time the room is entered and when I'm lounging in my favorite chair, the one I bought on the day my life changed forever, it is the wall my gaze rests upon. And now I know what will grace this wall. I have asked a friend to make a large pallet sign for me. A sign that will act as a prayer, as a reminder and as a promise. What the enemy meant for my harm, God will turn for good....And if not...He is still good... and I will still serve Him
Whatever You're Doing (Something Heavenly): Sanctus Real
Then Jesus said, "Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?" John 11:40
I sit here in my dimly lit office, I have arrived hours ahead of schedule because this morning I just need some solitude. I'm sure there are those of you who understand. I need to be in place where there is not another task to do and no one knows I'm here yet so there is no knock on my door.
Its been a while since I have written anything. I don't think many have noticed, lol, but I have missed it. So this morning when the words hit, I had to take the time. I have said in the past and this is still true, that during all hours of the day and night, I will most likely have some form of preaching service, seminar or worship service streaming on the TV or computer. When in my office working on reports or filing, I will have a live stream or archive going in the background. I try to continually keep the word washing over me in some form or another. There are days when this comes easy and there are days that I have to make myself do so.
I found that it is in the times that I do not keep my ears full of the Word, that these are the times that the voices are the loudest. Now before you go calling me crazy, or some of you try to have me committed, stop and think. We all have those voices. You know the ones. Sometimes they scream "You can't!", "Give up!", "It's not worth it!". Sometimes they speak softly and consistently, a constant reminder of every wrong turn, every mistake, every disappointment, every rejection. Screaming loud and long or silently whispering despair, these voice can often drown out the very voice of God, even for a believer.
For me the voices have been constant most of my life. There are three voices from my past that torment my idle thoughts. These voice say that I am not good enough, they say I am unlovable and they say I am a failure. There is a new voice these days as well that taunts me day and night, the voice of the Pharisee.
This morning as is my morning routine, my phone was streaming a broad cast. This morning one of my favorites, Beth Moore, was talking on the scriptures in Mark of the boy whose father has brought him to be healed from demonic possession. Her first words were, "My freedom came from that which nearly killed me." That was it. That was the pebble it took to break the dam. You see I understand that fully.
If you have read my blogs then you know my journey. This bittersweet, intentional journey through the darkest days of my life. A pit and a valley dug by the enemy to destroy me. And you know it nearly did. But this morning came the reminder.
You see, after years of Pharisaical living, singing, teaching, ministering in the church and other locations the Holy Spirit began to work on me. As I began to slowly awaken from my long, spiritual slumber in my comfortable cocoon of denial and luke-warm living, the enemy recognized the purpose being instilled in me even before I did. In a last ditch effort to destroy my potential, he sends the absolute worst crisis of my life...and it nearly killed me. But God has a plan.
It was during this pit that could have, (almost) taken my life that God showed me once again who HE is and who I am.
I grew up in a doctrine that believed once saved always saved and if you slip, you must not have really been saved. In my twenties I converted to a doctrine that believes that you can lose your salvation by your own choice. I still believe that, but the enemy has taken these two doctrines and even used this to taunt me over the years. That voice for so long told me I could not be assured of my salvation and along this journey Jesus has conquered that voice. Without this painful journey and process I am certain I would still be stuck in that place of uncertainty, constantly wondering if my eternal destination was secure. Constantly fighting a fight that has already been won.
31 To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.32 Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”John 8:31-33
A new voice has tried to take its place. A voice that says that if I do not cave in, or give in to the plans of the wicked or condone the actions of the narcissistic personality or "keep my mouth shut" then I " must not really be a Christian". This often comes in the form of a real human voice and I must fight the urge to believe the lie of the enemy through those who choose to be his mouth piece.
There is a voice that has been with me since childhood. This voice says that no matter what I do, it is not good enough. This voice too has a human mouthpiece and has been used many times in 47 years to manipulate my actions and responses. This voice also whispers in innuendo, "you cannot trust yourself" and "no matter what you do you will fail".
Perhaps the loudest of the messages is a choir of voices with a trio at its fore front and the constant siren song is that I am only loveable if I meet the right conditions. These voices too have human form and faces. These, one right after another, from birth to present have taunted me with the idea that I had to be in a constant state of doing and being and performing and that my worth was only tied to obedience to them and performance for them. Rejection, manipulation, denial and abandonment were the tools of the trade and served my captors well. Love was conditional and I did not meet the conditions.
We all have these voices and when the Father begins to unveil his plans to us, these voices will rally. They will do their best to rattle and confuse the believer.
In Mark's passage, the father of the boy says to Jesus, "But if You can do anything, take pity on us and help us!"Jesus, already frustrated with his disciples over this very issue, firmly says to the man, "'If You can?' All things are possible to him who believes." He is not really frustrated with the father. This man has not sat under his teaching for years. This man had no way of knowing, but the disciples did and Jesus is terribly frustrated with them. All along he has told his disciples that they will do even greater miracles than he and yet when this man and this boy come to them, they cannot cast out this demon. It was at this point that Beth points out the reason for their inability to perform the task before them. They had just been arguing with the Pharisees. Her statement "Never argue with a Pharisee" hits be right between the eyes. You see during this time period that I have not been writing, I have been arguing with Pharisees. Some in my head and some in real life. Distractions. Distractions, real and imagined, sent by the enemy to silence me and keep me from going further to the place where the Father has a plan for me. Even to the point of disobedience. The more I argued, the louder the voice got, until I could no longer clearly hear that still small voice. The one that says I am his, I am loved, I am valuable, I have purpose, I can and I will. The one that says "I have bought you back", the one that says "I have paid for your freedom", the one that says, "Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can
say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move.
Nothing will be impossible for you."
So dear friend, this morning I am reminded that the freedom bought by the blood of Jesus is mine and its time to hike up the boot straps and be who He says I am. It is time to walk in the purpose He has called me to. It is time to shush the voices and stop arguing with the Pharisees and it is time to remember the promises that He has made me and just how far He has brought me though there still seems to be no mountaintop in sight. It is time to take hold of that mustard seed and to say "Father, I believe, Lord help my unbelief".
Today's video is the Jeff Berry Band's song Prayer
