Back to Basics

I have been attempting to research the world around me as a casual observer to "another planet": seeking information; to understand; to help out in my travels; to know and be known as I wander through each day.  I've seen beauty so deep it breaks my heart in the sunrise God sends to wake us each morning; I've known sorrow to deep to put in words in His tears of rain that water the earth at the close of day.  I've seen compassion and cruelty--brothers stoning brothers in words and actions; calling, "Crucify!" of those they celebrated just yesterday.  I've seen children and animals left out in the cold while so many seek to get ahead; stumbling over them in the "rat race" without so much as a glance; ignoring the arthritic, twisted, gnarled hand reaching up for a morsel of bread in the face we pass on the streets each day.

I look back on my journey to when I would give away my umbrella and walk home laughing in the rain; to returning barefoot because someone needed my shoes more than I did; to getting to work hungry because that person needed my cup of coffee and breakfast and missing one meal wouldn't kill me...but it just might have killed them.  When did I learn to be silent in the face of injustice?  When did I learn to look after myself?  When did fear become more important than helping another on the way?  When did this earth become more important to me than the longing of eternity?
    We did an activity the other day--they put us, as teachers, together, to each build a square having only certain pieces.  The activity wasn't finished until we each could build the same size square.  At first, some of us built our squares and carefully guarded our pieces; we soon realized, we couldn't finish unless we were all willing to work together to help build each person's square.  It impacted me, because in the factions--politicians destroying other politicians; this one calling for the death of that one; this one deciding who deserves his or her time; this one building an empire while slaves are wasting away--I wonder how life would be if we put down our "pieces" and helped to build another's square. Would we find, then, those same pieces coming back to us in more than we had ever hoped or dreamed?  Would we find that the goal wasn't in "being first", but in overcoming TOGETHER; that it's okay to ask for forgiveness and put boundaries against negativity, but while we shut out the negativity, we should never hate or seek to destroy the person who put it there.  We should distance ourselves from abuse; from lies; from violence; from deception; from negativity; from control, but at the same time, leave a bridge that, should that person humbly choose to walk across, they will know that, on the other side, we will help them build a square.
Here's for all the children who cry themselves to sleep, hungry; for the stray animals abandoned to the wild; for the judges and leaders who might have made mistakes...I pray, in me, you won't find destruction.  I pray you know that, if I can ever help you, I'm making a choice, again, to try to be there.  If only with 5 loaves and 2 fishes, I pray I can say with Peter and John, "What I have, I give," and if, in my hands, it is just a drop in the bucket, in His, may it be a river that soothes the troubled heart.

On Anger

Anger---sharp and cold like a knife--
Piercing everything; in its wake
Leaving a bloody mess of strife.

Dissention; discord; resentment
and wounded pride--
Festering; oozing; infecting the vital organs inside.

Would we say what we want
Or what we mean
If we could see the end result
Of such a devastating scene?

Or would we think twice; pray; guard
our words and bide our time?
Anger when it's cooled is foe--
No longer friend sublime.

May the morning find us praying,
And at evening, watching still;
Without anger; sowing patience;
Fearless; crying,  "Father, have THY will."
May the morning wake with beauty;
Peaceful words and loving touch
And pay we not the price of anger;
Its end costs far too much.

Yes, I Believe

I've been going back through the music I used to listen to as a kid, and I've been asking myself some hard questions.  I remember spending hours in my room listening to encouraging songs, reading my Bible, and talking to God.  Back then, He was my best Friend.  I enjoyed spending time with people, and roller blading, and going on runs through the park, but there was nothing like "hanging out" with God.  One song in particular, "This Is Your Time," by Michael W. Smith really impacted me back in those days.  I listened to the song, again, today, and I found myself curled up on the couch weeping over the simplicity (and profoundness) of the message, and wondering how the busyness of day-to-day life stole that message from my heart along the way.
This past Sunday, I spent time through Skype with a dear friend whose doctors tell him he is dying of cancer and that, in their words, he has "moments left."  I made him laugh and heard him cry, and as we prayed together, we both knew that, in his case, the only way to give him even a chance is for him to let go of the secrets he keeps and the fears that are pressing on his heart and wearing his body out.  We know each conversation could be our last, but we also know God heals, and the only way to help him fight this battle is to begin to bring everything into the light.  I thought, again, about the words of the song: "Live in the sea.  Swim in the deep.  Embrace the mystery of all you can be.  This is your time.  This is your dance.  Live every moment.  Leave nothing to chance.  This is your time.  What if tomorrow....what if today...faced with the question (do you believe?), what would we say???? This is your time."  My friend has a beautiful family and a chance at life, but he needs to know every day more and more how much God loves him, and that he can let go and embrace all God is calling him to be.  His life is a beautiful song, and the pain and choices of the past only make each note more beautiful.  What if, somehow, denying God isn't only as simple as saying, "I don't believe," but skipping over His promises and forgetting to make a choice.  "I believe He loves me.  I believe He has forgiven me.  I believe He is enough, and I choose to live like I believe that."
When I turned off the computer, my phone rang and I spoke to another dear friend from miles away....bitter and broken over an unfaithful husband who not only broke her heart but the lives of the people he's called to lead as a missionary, father, and friend.  The battle in the natural has dragged on and the anger is high on both sides, and when I went to comfort her, longing to jump on a plane and be there for her,

I found the strangest words coming out of my mouth from somewhere deep in my heart.  Even stranger, I've found myself repeating those words all week in several different situations with people who are angry, and broken and confused; facing similar situations and fears:  What if this life doesn't matter as much as the next?  What if the battle isn't for fairness, or physical healing (although God heals), or deliverance from violence, and poverty, and the cruelty all around us (although God delivers, and gives us choices, and many times, shows us the way out of where we are)?  What if, what matters more, is what we do with this question?  Do I believe?  Do I believe, right now, that I'm not alone, and that Someone is walking with me, and that He'll stand up for me, and help me, and show me what to do?  And do I believe, inside of me, that just that, strangely, is enough?  How we answer that question may cost us everything in this life (choosing to let go in times where we can demand our rights; choosing to lay our lives down to help others even when it doesn't seem fair; choosing to go far from "home" to seek out those who need to know that they belong), but if we see things through God's eyes...through eternity...that same answer may give us everything we need.
I know I believe in God, but I find myself missing Him, today.  As I pray for people, and seek to help, do I lean too much in my own strength and forget that my best Friend is sitting right beside me?  Do I give counsel from my head and not my heart...that place deep inside me that says, "He's real.  He can make a difference"?  "I believe, and that belief is worth dying for."  I want to go back to living that way...to be afraid to deny Him....not just in the simplicity of never giving up on my faith, but in the complexity of choosing to live that faith each day.  There's a brokenness and a healing in letting go: in living each moment in the light of His love and being unafraid of rejection, or heartbreak, or losing what I most love.  If HE is what I most love, what can I lose?  He'll be there at each step; in every circumstance; giving me peace, and faith, and love.  NOTHING is greater than His Name.  So, if only in this blog, as a declaration to Heaven, I want to write, again, like I did when I was little...."Yes.  I believe."  And, somehow, that statement is everything, and too small, and just enough.  "Yes.  I.....BELIEVE."  Amen.

Everything Good

Philippians 4:8

New International Version Finally, my brothers, consider all that is true; respectable; everything that is just, pure, peaceable, worthy of admiration and all that is excellent or worthy of praise.  THINK ON THESE THINGS.  I read these verses, today, and they made me cry even though I've read them countless times.  I read them each week; each month; each year; each time I'm covered up in work or dealing with various situations.  I use them as a way to guard my heart and my mind.  Still, today, as I read them, I saw them in a different light, and they became almost a sword that piereced my heart.  Edmund Burke, a philosopher of the 1700's who fought to turn the Church back to her foundation of principles based solely upon the Bible and on Jesus's words once said that, "All that is needed for evil to triumph is for good to do nothing." So, I find myself, today, with tears and questions, and a call to my heart to wake up....for us each to return and, "Seek the Lord while He may be found."  Because a time will come and is very near when the heavens will open and our God shall appear, and He will hold close forever those who´ve held onto Him, and to truth, and love, and goodness and have fought for the truth we can only find in who He is.   Meanwhile, my heart longs to know, "What are we doing with this truth?"  So many times, instead of thinking on truth and goodness, we hold onto lies about one another; clinging to division and hatred and onto fighting for our own individual reign.  Why instead of thinking on what is respectable and respectful...extending mercy and healing...we decide who is worthy of our attention and love?  Why do we think we are justified in creating injustice if done in the name of a "bigger cause" (bigger only in our own thinking); why do we leave what is pure behind in the name of entertainment? It's so easy to stop being "lovely" and "loveable" when we feel someone has hurt us; it's so easy to overlook the admirable qualities of all who surround us...to forget that they are worthy of hearing our words of encouragement and affirmation; that they need to hear those words; they often need a hand extended not in anger, but in love. The more I live, the more I see inquisitions; factions; divisions; fear.  I miss the moments of my childhood and youth when I understood that, in this world, I might face those who hate me, but in the Church, I could always find those who believe in me and want to see me triumph and succeed.  Today, there are so many of us who still believe in love and justice; who believe God is winning; who want to see His mercy and truth triumph; His people filled not only with reason and understanding, but love.  May we have the courage to be the change we long to see; courage to find the lonely and accompany and love them; to find the sick and seek ways to help and heal them; to find those who have nothing and share our bread in returning to the days of Acts 2:42.  Jesus said He came to "seek and save that which is lost."  May we lose ourselves in doing nothing but the same, and then God Himself will shine upon us, and will give us the strength once more to, "Think on these things."  EDMUND BURKE "Each time you make a distinction between liberty and justice, in my opinion, neither are safe."

"Give me a kiss before I go."  That was my friend's way of saying, "good bye," to her husband for 30 years, and last Sunday, as we prayed for her, and she asked us to let her go and be with Jesus, those were some of the last words she said to her husband.  Not a permanent goodbye.  Not a sad defeat.  A joyous acknowledgement that her vacations were over, and for those of us who are still "on vacation," down here...enjoying life; working hard; doing what God puts in front of us to do until we make it back home, again, we gave her all our love and were there when she made it victoriously home.  My friend, Doña Flora, was one of the most courageous women I have ever had the privilege to know.  Filled with love; compassion; laughter; in spite of her pain, she always found a way to encourage those around her.  Her words filled my heart, and her life left a legacy for those who knew her to fill.  As I prepare to sign the papers on my counseling office, tonight, and pray for each month's $400 rent to come in, I'm reminded of her courage and her heartache, and how she encouraged me in my plans and reminded me daily of the need for there to be a place where the broken hearted could go, and rest, and spend time absorbing God's Presence and strength to go back out into the battle.  For her, and for several others whose faces fill my heart, I'm moving forward in spite of my fears...I know God will meet each month's need, and that there will be at last a place where people can go to hear from God and to release the pain that comes from various circumstances. Her family...Cristian, Andrea, Rusbel, Don Rigo, and all her children and grandchildren are a testimony to me of what it means to love God, and to move forward with the dreams He's placed in our hearts, and of the importance of weeping with those who mourn and rejoicing with those who rejoice.  This office building, a blessing from God, is in large part taking place because of their example, and will be in Doña Flora's memory who blessed my life and filled me with laughter, faith, and joy that words could never say.  Thank you to her, and to her family, for being a living encouragement to me that God answers us when we call, and that He will answer me.  May God bless you all.  Thank you for your courage and your legacy.

1. Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
   Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
   Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
   Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
   • Refrain:
     This is my story, this is my song,
     Praising my Savior all the day long;
     This is my story, this is my song,
     Praising my Savior all the day long.
2. Perfect submission, perfect delight,
   Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
   Angels, descending, bring from above
   Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
3. Perfect submission, all is at rest,
   I in my Savior am happy and blest,
   Watching and waiting, looking above,
   Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

Peace be Still

“O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose,
My rest from strife of tongues, my holy hill,
Fair is Thy pavilion, where I hold me still.
Back let them fall from me, my clamorous foes,
Confusions multiplied;
From crowding things of sense I flee, and Thee I hide.
Until this tyranny be overpast,
Thy hand will hold me fast;
What though the tumult of the storm increase,
Grant to Thy servant strength, O Lord, and bless with peace.” 
― Amy Carmichael, Toward Jerusalem

I am saddened, today, as I write, and, yet, strangely encouraged.  This week, we buried a great friend and a great leader.  She taught me how to stand when I was 17: trying to grow in a counseling gift I didn't yet understand.  I think of her, but I also think of so many others; many who paid the price and have gone before us, and whose footsteps light the way in front of us as they tried to follow Jesus.  I feel a shifting coming; a turning of the tides.  Everywhere, the darkness is growing; some say it has always been this dark; others say that it's only that we are becoming more aware of it; my theory is that, in these days, the "dark will get darker, and the light lighter" (2 Timothy 3:13-14), and what we do with the light God has given us will determine the course of families, churches, nations, and kings.  God has called us to arise (Isaiah 60) and to not be overcome by the darkness (fear; sorrow; guilt; compromise), but to overcome evil with good.  All around us, we see losses insurmountable, and all around us, we see joy and abundant provision, and both are found in the same day.  Those losses and joys encourage me even more in the hope that, as Winston Churchill once said, "This is our finest hour."  We can look around and call these days dark, or we can stand up and shine with all that is within us, and even in the darkness, know the One who came to give us light.

There is a "civil war" coming, if you will; a dividing line where even compromise will seem okay; where power will sustitute godly authority; where even in the Name of God, intimidation, and division, and pride ("Only I know best") will be allowed to reign.  James called this type of wisdom sensual, but said that the wisdom which comes from above will be teachable and peaceable; God's wisdom may bring a sword, at times, but against injustice, and compromise, and fear, and arrogance; NEVER against those God came to save.  God's wisdom will never be heard oppressing people in the streets; His wisdom stoops low to honor and protect, but never to the point of calling darkness light or light darkness; never to the point of justifying what we know is not okay.

Those who have gone before us--who paid the price to teach us love, and joy, and fairness, and perseverance; who gave their lives for others regardless of the costs, but stood up to those same "others" when doing so was not popular; when keeping silent would have been easier; when compromise longed for control.  We honor them, and we follow their example: love must always be the goal; wisdom must always seek to bring freedom and peace; arrogance and pride can never be the means to accomplishing our reforms; neither does speaking against the darkness equal religion and arrogance.  We dance a careful dance: free and compassionate; holding to our standards and calling others to rise, and rightly discern wrong from right, yet willing to listen; never thinking we've arrived.  As we dance a dance of grace, and mercy, and freedom, and compassion, we hold to who God has made us and allow others to be themselves. And we allow God to be over us all...to let Him be the One to bring conviction and change; to let Him use our lives to call others higher, and deeper, and further in Him.

To do any less would be to dishonor the memory of those who gave their lives in the battle; who at one point reached down to us and allowed us to climb upon their shoulders to see from a better view.  May God giveus courage and wisdom; may He help us balance the truth with love; may He find us faithful when, like them, we close our eyes in sleep, and until that day, may He be our refuge from the enemy of our souls; may He truly be "a rest from strife of tongues."  May we long to do His will; may we see Him in our hearts and know that, one day, we, too, will see Him, like those who have gone before us, now, face to face.

Be Magnified

I woke up singing this song, today: "When you're up against a struggle, that shatters all your dreams, and your hopes have been cruelly crushed by Satan's manifested schemes, and you feel the urge within you to submit to earthly fear, don't let the faith you're standing in seem to disappear. Praise the Lord; He will work through those who praise Him. Praise the Lord, for our God inhabits praise. Praise the Lord; for the chains that seem to bind you serve only to remind you that they drop powerless behind you when you praise Him. Now, Satan is a liar and he wants to make us think that we are paupers, when he knows himself we're children of the King.

So, lift up the mighty shield of faith for the battle must be won. We know that Jesus Christ has risen and the work's already done. Praise the Lord; He will work through those who praise Him.

Praise the Lord; for our God inhabits praise. Praise the Lord; for the chains that seem to bind you serve only to remind you that they drop powerless behind you when you praise Him. When you praise Him...When you praise, you praise the Lord. Praise the Lord."

The more I live, the more I see that the monsters we feared in our closets and under our beds are real, and are all around us.  They are more frightening than any we could have made up as children; they are nearer, and the most frightening part of all is, they live among us.  And because many times, they are even IN us if we are not careful--jealousy; selfishness; stubbornness; insecurity; rage--it becomes harder and harder, at times, to tell the good from the bad and the right from the wrong the older and more "set in our ways" we grow.  But just as the monsters are real, so are the heroes: they, too, live among us, and in us, and we meet them and ARE them every day: kindness; compassion; mercy; forgiveness; laying our lives down for those around us regardless of what we receive in return.  Each day we make a choice: to defeat the monsters or become them.  We are defined by what we tolerate and allow to grow...as individuals; as couples; as families; as churches; as nations and leaders and "heads of State."  As children, we knew that nothing could happen once the monsters were "chased" out of the closet, and beds properly checked; the darkness was kept out, and we slept in the security of knowing those in authority over us would keep us safe (at least, in an "ideal" world; I know that, for many, the reality was the opposite for the same reasons explored, here).  We grow, and we forget that things were simple: that bad is bad, and good is good; we allow fears to creep into our hearts and mold us with each circumstance; we forget what we once longed for and what we once believed.

Do you remember singing in the dark at the top of your lungs as children?  Do you remember holding the hand of someone you loved, and feeling the "safety" come back?  If you never experienced that, do you remember the longing, and can you imagine it, here?  There is so much going on in our world.  I'm reminded of it, daily, in the people I counsel and the situations I step into to intervene as situations allow.  From Thailand to Tahiti, there are dangers, and hurt, and violence, and oppression--if not seen on a national scale, in homes, behind closed doors.  Children are left alone; the penniless wait for answers; the sick are waiting on healing; heartaches, and loneliness, and despair so dark it outshines any darkness we once faced under our beds is becoming apparent and real in our "grown-up" worlds.  And, yet, there is a light.  There is, yet, goodness.  Habakkuk, when faced with situations graver than we will ever know--even in our modern world--said, "Put your trust in God, for I will YET praise Him."  Somehow, if inside of us, we hold onto freedom, and life, and love, and truth, and do not let the light go out, if we continue to believe that God is good, and that He will not leave us, His love is a blanket that wraps around us no matter how harshly the winds may  blow.  Though we may still weep, and grieve the losses and the "waiting," we realize that we are not alone; there is a Hand holding ours keeping us, yet, in "safety" no matter what the day may bring.  Like children, we can lift our voices and praise Him; we can magnify Him and trust Him until that trust brings rest to our minds, and shows us a course of action.  And when there is no action that can be taken--no course that can be run--we wait in His arms knowing that He is still good.  He has overcome the darkness.  He has made a world this world cannot touch, and has promised to take us, there.  We can be like those of Hebrews 11, who in spite of all threats of violence, held onto a world they saw with distant eyes, and found courage when there was no courage to be found. They stated plainly that they were citizens of a Kingdom never shaken; even in laying down their lives to stand for Truth and Life, they won.  Their legacy remains.  The monsters of their time could not erase the light those courageous people shone, and so, too, are we if we refuse to bow before fear and despair.  May we love with all that is in us; may we sow goodness, and kindness, and freedom, and stand against the darkness.  And may the world hear, each day, as we lie down to rest, a song.  With voices that shake, perhaps, but voices that cannot stop trusting in the One who knows our frame, may we lie down each night praising His Name.  He is good.  He is with us.  He HAS won.  And THAT will give us courage when we awaken, again, each next day.

The Incurable Wound

I read an article, this morning, about the "incurable wound," and went to research it.  I've been thinking so much, lately about wounds: wounds we have; wounds we cause; wounds that are caused by our refusing to let God touch those hidden, bleeding places.  What happens when someone with a genuine wound is discarded and thrown away because they are seen as "weak" or "damaged"?  And on the opposite scale, what happens when someone refuses to let that wound be healed, and it begins to ooze, and fester, and "damage" those around them (anger; pride; violence; coarse jesting; belittling; manipulating; hatred; sexual sin)?  Should those who love them stay and be destroyed, or call out to those wounded from a place where they can be made whole?  In a battle, we treat those who are wounded; we treat them with compassion and love; we do all we can to see them restored and "in the fight" again; we try to help them make it home.  We "leave no man behind."  And, in a battle, due to the critical nature of time and the needs of others awaiting care, if someone refuses treatment--is happy with the wound and pretends that nothing is wrong--we can't do anything else but hope they let us help them, and begin to treat the ones we can.
As I looked at "incurable wounds," I saw that in each instance, the Lord answered that sin had made the wound "incurable", but that, really, He was able (and longing) to heal.  In my mind, I found several unanswered questions before this information.  Does our own sin cause all our wounds?  What about Job and Jeremiah?  God gave them the same reply, and yet, Job was hailed as a "righteous" man, and Jeremiah was God's spokesperson to Israel.  How could sin have made their wounds incurable?  
James says that sin is knowing what is right to do, and not doing it; Micah 6:8 says, "He has told you, oh man, what is good: but to do justice; to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God."  Is it possible that we can do everything "right", and fail in the face of others' sins and weakness towards us?  Is it possible that, just as Matthew 24 states, after brother betrays brother, "the love of many grows cold"?  Is it possible that, when Jeremiah cried out in Jeremiah 15, he had become disillusioned at speaking over and over, again, to the people of Israel only to see them throw his warnings back at him and turn his concerns into ridicule and persecution (even throwing Jeremiah in jail accusing him of treachery and betrayal)?  Could his heart have become discouraged and broken at feeling rejected daily, and seeing nothing change around him?  Could others' sins have made him hard? He cries out in Jeremiah 18, "Would that I had never been born!"  With Job, also, Job despairs of life, and cries out, "All that I feared has come upon me."
I think of those in persecution who pray for their captors: who sing with tears streaming down battered faces; who lift broken hands to bless and never despise, and how the same voices that cry out without shame against sin and injustice--never excusing the sin--pray for those who have fallen.  In our own trials and afflictions, we, rather, cry out like Job, "I KNEW it!  All I feared has come upon me; like Jeremiah, 'my wound is incurable.'"
Could it be that the sins of others can have an affect upon our hearts; rather than standing for truth, and righteousness, and freedom, we become involved in a "campaign"; someone must pay; someone must answer for the hurt I am walking through?  Or in fear of being judged, we refuse to speak out when others are belittled; we lay burdens on them ("YOU must be perfect; YOU must do more"), and refuse to listen when they point out genuine oppression. And in either extreme, in those moments, we, too, open doors, because our hearts move far away from kindness (hating the sin, and speaking against it, but never letting our voices rise in rage or violence; lovingly pointing out those obvious things that break God's heart even as we stoop to wash the feet of those who have walked in those paths of "filthiness"; knowing we all are capable of failure; seeing others through God's eyes of love while never compromising the truth).  If we allow ourselves to focus on all that is wrong, instead of continually turning our eyes back to Jesus--speaking only against what breaks His heart, but never trying to "break" others or "make them" listen to us, we will fall...every time.
Jeremiah cried out: "Why is my pain perpetual and my wound incurable, which refuses to be healed?  Will You surely be to me like an unreliable stream, as waters that fail?  (then, the Lord reassures Jeremiah) "If you return, then I will bring you back; you shall stand before Me, if you separate the precious from the vile, you shall be as My mouth.  Let them return to you, but you must not return to them.  And I will make you to this people a fortified bronze wall; and they will fight against you, but they will not prevail against you.  For I am with you to save and deliver you.  I WILL deliver you from the hand of the wicked, and I WILL redeem you from the grip of the terrible."  Jeremiah was not to seek others' approval, or even for them to listen to him; he was not to mix his personality and his opinions with God's, and not to refuse to call others' to repent for OBVIOUS sins over fear of what they might say or that he could seem "quarrelsome." This can get confusing, but we should keep clear in our hearts that Jesus didn't scold people for not praying or reading the Scriptures--He called everyone to walk with Him; to know Him; to receive His love and put His opinions first; He never quarreled or broke those who were already broken, but He called them to lay aside those things that were bringing death to them and separating them from God.  We must--by our lives--show others' God's love; refuse to compromise in the face of sin and say, "oh, it's okay, don't worry about it," but at the same time, not make our focus OTHER'S walk with God, but be willing, when we're in a position to speak, and see sin played out before us, to call those individuals to lay those sins aside and let God bring new life.  We must make worship of God our goal, and out of that place, walk in kindness, speaking up for what is "just" and "noble" and "honorable" and "right." Not seeking to control others, but to bless them and bring them freedom at every turn (which means, at times, not allowing ourselves to be abused or drawn into hiding sin, so that we can still stand for freedom). And, God will be with us.
In Isaiah, God says, "Even in your old age, I will be the same, and even in your graying years, I will yet carry you!  I have done it, and I shall carry you, and I will sustain you; I shall deliver you" (Isaiah 46:4).

I think about these things, and I think about our own lives.  It is noble to stand against unrighteousness; it is honorable to stand against the "vile", and stand for purity, honesty, truth, freedom, love, closeness with God.  But when others' opinions (that they MUST hear me; that they MUST pay for my loneliness, or hurt, or fear, or betrayal); when my need to be heard creeps in and takes over, I lose sight of what is truly important: God cares for me.  If He has called me to speak, His love will be enough; there will be no "desperation"; no violence; no hatred; no vengeance; no control; no drowning out or suffocating others' rights to speak in my speaking.  There will only be love, and tears, and compassion over obvious wounds in the Body of Christ--obvious sins that are festering coming from lies individuals have believed, and compromise that has been allowed to separate those individuals from God.  But we will stoop, not stomp--we will gently wash with the water of the Word--seeking healing and deliverance and restoration for those individuals: not "skipping steps" or "glossing over" the damage that has been done, but speaking with compassion, as if we were the ones who fell; standing with them as they choose to let God heal them, but calling them to be made whole.  There are those painful times, as with Jeremiah and Isaiah, where we realize that others will not be made whole; then we must love them, and pray for them, but walk away and refuse to be drawn in to those same sins; we must not become bitter, or hardened, or judgmental, or feel betrayed, but say like David, "How the mighty have fallen in Israel"; we do not stand still and let their spears go in (not hiding truth or refusing to speak it), but we weep with compassion and pain at wounds that will not be made whole.
Let us separate the precious from the vile.  Let us not call darkness light; let us not say that speaking out against sin is "gossip" or needing root issues to be addressed is being "cruel".  Let us not say that our haughty, judging, "I know better" attitudes is calling others to righteousness in gray areas where they MUST know freedom to make their own decisions; let us not say that gently speaking against injustice and blatant sin (immorality; theft; control, etc.) is refusing to love.  Let us not manipulate others to see as WE see, lest our own wounds become incurable and our fears become multiplied, but let us be ever ready to speak out against injustice and compromise knowing that, if everyone else fails us, God will love us and heal our broken hearts.  Let us keep our eyes on Jesus; let us love as He loved; let us see as He sees; let us not make our opinions the goal, but, rather, seek daily to walk as He walked--willing to lay our lives down for others and longing to see their wounds cured.  May we let our hearts break before we would reach out and wound others; let us know that wounding, at times, is in refusal to speak up at what is right before us; at what God wants to remove so that others can know Him (again, obvious sins, not our own perceptions). "Good things as well as bad, you know, are caught by a kind of infection. If you want to get warm you must stand near the fire: if you want to be wet you must get into the water. If you want joy, power, peace, eternal life, you must get close to, or even into, the thing that has them. They are not a sort of prize which God could, if He chose, just hand out to anyone. They are a great fountain of energy and beauty spurting up at the very centre of reality. If you are close to it, the spray will wet you: if you are not, you will remain dry. Once a man is united to God, how could he not live forever?" --C.S. Lewis

Courage Cont....

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” ― Nelson Mandela
2 Corinthians 10:4-5 says, "For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal (earthly; weak; dependent on my state of emotions or desires), but MIGHTY in God for the tearing down of strongholds (places where my mind has become "entrenched"; places in my thoughts where darkness, and terror, and oppression hide) and arguments (those lies that seem so real and fight for me to stay in the places that feel familiar versus what brings truth and life) and every high and lofty thing (stubbornness; foolish pride) that exalts itself against the knowledge (intimacy; trust; faith in) Christ."
I read the most amazing quote, yesterday.  August Wilson once said, "

Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.” In all of these verses and quotes, the message is the same.  There is a wrestling that must come if truth is to win out over the lies that we often tell ourselves.  From birth until about 6, everything we will believe about the world becomes solid in our minds, and begins to feel real to our hearts, and everything we encounter later in life is filtered through this knowledge.  For example, just as we learn what is "acceptable" in social settings ("Don't slouch;" "Pick up your things"; "Don't embarrass us"), we learn what is "acceptable" to think and feel ("Boys don't cry"; "Don't be ridiculous"; "How can you even think that?").  Slowly, we set aside things like freedom and faith, and learn, rather, to be cautious and successful; we learn how to sound "wise."  There is something to be said for not speaking out of anger--for setting aside behavior and speech that can hurt those around us (belittling; back-biting; slander; hatred; rage).  As we grow in truth and love, though, those things naturally fall away from us: we cannot walk in truth and freedom--letting God's love fill our hearts, and not feel a natural tendency towards walking in love and freedom with those around us.
So, I'm not speaking, here, of giving ourselves permission to become selfish, or shallow, or boastful, or rude, but, rather, to face the fears that cause those same attitudes in our hearts.  How many people around the world hear over and over again in their minds, "You are nothing.  You're doing things all wrong.  You'll never fit in.  You're so different from everyone.  There's something wrong with you"?  We are harder on ourselves than others will ever be, and we don't realize that the voice we allow to whisper all day long, while it feels as familiar as our own, comes from something else: something hiding in a stronghold in our minds; something that has become a part of us, but like a parasite, must be triumphed over and sent along its way.  Those arguments--those fears--those "high places" where we feel so sure of what we see and "know" are what keep us from stepping out and becoming who we were always meant to be.  Doctors; teachers; lawyers; janitors; graduates; drop-outs; out-going; shy: how differently would we tackle those dreams inside of us if we were no longer so aware of others watching?  If there were no longer a fear of failure and being "judged"...if we were able to accept criticism, and let it hone our skills and make us stronger, but never let it cause us to doubt what we were born to do, how differently would we live our lives?

So, how do we get to that place?  We wrestle!  "Do not go quietly into that good night, but rage, rage against the dying of the light."  With all that is inside of us, we learn who God is, and what He thinks about us, and we slowly begin to whisper those things to ourselves throughout the day.  In resisting the enemy (who is not flesh nor blood), we grow strong, and there comes a time where we are not simply "resisting", but "maintaining"; then, not simply "maintaining," but "taking ground"; then not simply "taking ground", but soaring out over the circumstances secure in the hope of our calling: believing that God is with us and even in failure, will cause us to overcome.  We must sow so that we can reap...sow thoughts of peace, and trust, and life, and joy, and there will come a time where--just as when we were small and growing in our beliefs about the world through what others told us, we begin to believe in our hearts those new "truths" we are speaking.  "I can do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me."  "I am loved and highly favored."  "The King of the Universe knows my name, and walks with me."  "Even if my own father and mother reject me, with all this, the Lord will stand by me."  "He is changing me daily into His image; I give HIM permission to change me and I work with what He asks me to do...I don't have to 'help' by telling Him what to change."  Perfect love casts out fear.  His love is perfect; it will always be enough.  

This is a call to "war"; a call to "wrestle"; a call to push against the lies, and consciously speak truth: He loves us.  All fear must go.  All doubt must go.  He will never leave us.  He will never forsake us.  And that's all we need to know.

"In your presence; that´s where I am strong: in Your presence, O Lord, my God.
In Your presence; that´s where I belong: seeking Your face; touching Your grace
In the cleft of the Rock...in Your presence O God.
I want to go where the rivers cannot overflow me; where my feet are on the Rock.
I want to hide where the blazing fire cannot burn me; in your presence O God.
I want to hide where the flood of evil cannot reach me: where I´m covered by the blood.
I want to be where the schemes of darkness cannot touch me; in Your presence O God.
You are my firm foundation. I trust in You all day long.
I am Your child and Your servant, and you are my Strength and my Song. You´re my Song.
Seeking Your face; touching Your grace in the cleft of the Rock.
In Your presence O God. In Your presence. In Your presence O God."
Isaiah 8:12 says, "Do not call conspiracy everything this people calls a conspiracy and do not fear what they fear."  (NIV)
Judges 6:10 (NKJV) says, "Do not fear the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell."
I have known, and sensed, and seen from the time that I was small that to fear is to worship.  When I fear something, I say that whatever I fear is the largest thing that exists: that nothing is bigger or able to stop it.  I therefore worship that thing, in the sense that it becomes magnified in my life.  That's why I love this song: "I want to hide where the flood of evil cannot reach me: where I'm covered by the blood."  There is a place in the Lord where I hide all that I am and all that I hope to be, and nothing can destroy my trust in Him.  I watched a movie the other night where the lead actor says, "Do not be mistaken.  Danger is real.  Fear is not."
Fear--dreading what will come; creating in my head the scenarios I'm afraid to see play out--will in and of themselves paralyze me and cause an affect far greater than what the scenario itself could cause.  "How do I then become unafraid?" is our cry.  How to stop the tape that plays over and over in our heads?  If fear acts as faith (speaking what will be, and many times bringing those things which I fear to pass by affecting how I operate), then I must have faith in something even greater, and let THAT be the tape which plays constantly in my head.
  "Perfect love casts out fear." Therein lies the answer.  We must become so in love with Him--so secure in His Presence, that we trust that there is nothing that can come where He will not stand by us.  There is no circumstance that can alter His love or His care.  He has thought of everything--taken each factor into account--and He is walking beside me.  What, then, should I be afraid of?  Famine; nakedness; peril; loss; illness; pain; persecution; even death: He has taken them all into consideration and overcome them all.  Even in death, He has provided the ultimate victory; there is nothing that can win as long as, deep inside myself, I do not let the worship of His greatness stop; I do not allow myself to become focused on other, lesser "gods."  They are powerless to save, and even more powerless to destroy; the Creator of all the Universe knows my name, and loves me, and will make a way for me at every step.  No matter what happens around me, in His love, even in death, in Him, I've won.

In this same movie, there were creatures that could only find the humans through the human fear.  As long as the person remained calm, that person remained invisible.  I want to confuse the devil.  I want him to stop and listen for my tears, and faint away at hearing a song that no scheme of hell can silence.  I want my every breath, even in my weeping, to worship Him; I want there to be no doubt, at any moment, in Whom I have put my trust.  This doesn't mean that we will not have trials or tribulations, or that they will not take our breath away, at times.  But even breathless, let us wait, and trust, and hope and praise.  He is faithful, and He will ever faithful be.  And that....is enough.

"Bind us together, Lord"

“Bind us together, Lord; bind us together with cords that cannot be broken. Bind us together, Lord; bind us together. Bind us together with love.
There is only one God; there is only one King. There is only one body; that is why we sing.
Made for the glory of God; purchased by His precious Son; born with the right to be clean, for Jesus the victory has won.  You are the family of God.
You are the promise divine. You are God's chosen desire. You are the glorious new wine.”

Ephesians 4:1-6 "I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to walk worthy of the calling with which you were called, with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all."

What does it mean to be one body?  I’m trying to imagine saying to any part of myself, “I just don’t like you.  Go away.  You’re not part of me.”  I could try to lose a finger, or a foot, or an ear or a nose, but even if I succeeded, I wouldn’t accomplish my mission without terrible pain, mental stress, and possibly infection or even death.  In the event that losing a part of myself were necessary (such as in an accident, or surgery, or illness, to save the rest of me), I would grieve that part which I had lost, and although I could go on to do great things, the loss would change me in ways the outside person could never understand.  In those such cases, after the grieving process, I could grow stronger, and reach higher, and feel a push to do more than I could have done before, but I would always remember—if only in a wistful moment—the part that I had lost.

What about on the flip side of this equation?  Because something is a part of me, do I protect it and refuse to treat it when I find disease; do I imagine that nothing is wrong, and refuse even to pray for my body to feel stronger, again?  Do I leave things “unwashed” because they’re mine, and therefore lovely (even when smelly); do I let my hair grow out until I trip over it as it spills out into the hall; do I let my fingernails and toenails twist and curl because I refuse to trim them; do I say, “Leave those feet alone; it’s just the way they are (that they smell when they run); you should love them in all their smelliness; I’ll possibly wash them next year when they get ready”?

So, why do we refuse to speak up when a part of our Body is in need of cleansing; when at other times we attack, and isolate, and condemn our "less favorite ones" as if those parts had nothing to do with us?  “Bind us together, Lord; bind us together with love.”  When I am bound to something, I have to take it into account for every movement.  I wouldn’t run if my leg were tied to my bed post.  I would need to see how to move with the weight of my bed.  If I tie my arms to a watermelon, the weight of that watermelon would make my movements slower, and I would think twice before jumping up and down and causing that melon to explode all over me.  So, if I am bound to fellow believers in Christ, what they do affects my movements.  I cannot focus on their frailties, and refuse to move if none walk with me, but I keep in mind the reality that if one falls, I will grieve, and do what I can to restore.  I cannot ignore the sin, and say it isn’t there, or become enraged when others try to help that person see the sin (be it anger; lust; fear; pride; abuse, etc., I weigh the fruit by the Word of the Lord and recognize when something doesn’t line up with the way Jesus calls us to walk).  On the contrary, I realize that this sin can spill over and affect others, and with all gentleness, humility and love, I am willing to speak up when someone continually walks in a way that can affect the walk of all of us and don’t become defensive when those “Body parts” are encouraged to clean up.

But neither do I distance myself, and judge as if I am not a part of them; I cannot accuse, and condemn, and criticize, and add burdens that I myself am not willing to bear.  Paul said, “I judge no man nor am I myself judged.”  This is the same Paul who fought with Barnabas over John Mark’s seeming betrayal; who called the Corinthians babies “unready for meat.”  So, then, judging is not cheering one another on and calling each other to keep growing, and keep climbing higher, and to let God have His way in our lives.  Judgment is not taking the “water of the Word,” and gently washing when washing is needing—not our perceived slights or offences, but genuine “dirt” obvious to the eye that can cause an infection if left untreated.  Judgment is saying, “You are not me, and I am not you, and you should be what I want you to be.”  We beat ourselves up, then: wounding our own heart by constantly condemning others.  May God give us wisdom; may He help us clean out the old, dry, caked-on mud of attitudes, and actions, and stale beliefs that only bring us confusion; may we line everything up with what He says in His Word and not hide the “junk” when we see it in ourselves and others.  But may we “wash” with gentleness; may we “clean” with compassion, and may God, truly, “bind us together with love.”

Psalm 121

Bottom of Form

"Lord, when I look at You, my tears just melt away; a peace comes over me and I don't feel afraid.

Lord, when You look at me, I know I'm not alone; my spirit soars above the pain my heart has known.

Hold me; don't let me go. I need You with all my soul. There is nothing I will face without the grace to see me through when I look at You. Lord, when I look at You, the world becomes so small.

 The burdens that I carry: I can let them fall. When You look at me, I know that I am safe. 

You're closer than my very breath and help me pray. Hold me; don't let me go. I need You with all my soul. There is nothing I will face without the grace to see me through when I look at You. When I look at You. When You look at me. When I look at You." --Kathy Troccoli

Today, an amazing (for me) thing happened.  When I pulled out of the parking lot for my lunch break at work, I saw all of Stone Mountain from a distance across the way.  Because Stone Mountain is further away and usually hidden by the smog or the clouds, I don’t see it unless I’m at a certain part down-town.  That in and of itself was amazing, but what really took my breath away for a moment is that I spent all last night hearing over and over in my spirit, “I lift my eyes to the hills from where my help comes.  My help comes from the Lord, Maker of Heaven and earth.”  Can you remember being very small, and seeing someone come to get you from the nursery at church, or day-care, or kindergarten?  You feel that all is right with the world; you feel safe and protected in the "roller coasters" of life; someone bigger than you is observing you in your “environment,” and you feel their pride in you, and their strength taking care of you.  Suddenly, you are lifted from childish squabbles, or waiting to go home and eat, or a feeling of unfamiliarity and longing for a “familiar” face.  As the castaway says arriving, finally, rescued and home, “LAND!”

There is so much going on around us.  From Gaza to Iraq; from Africa to Costa Rica; there are frightening situations and thousands lost waiting for an answer.  Our situations pale in comparison to famine, and plague, and war, and, yet, to the husband or wife waiting for a spouse to come home after a sudden abandonment; for children longing for their parents to stop fighting; for a single mother or father wondering how to pay the bills, each situation is just as relevant and just as unique to the world of that person facing it “alone.”  Then, for a brief moment, we catch a glimpse of God’s greatness; we feel a sense of His nearness.  A gentle touch; a kind word; a timely provision pulls us out of our misery to say, “Lift your eyes to the hills.  He has not forsaken you.  He will not abandon you.  Even in the valley of the shadow of death, you are passing through; this will not have the final word.”  Even in death, for those that believe, there is a resurrection.  There is nothing that can happen that He has not accounted for; He has won, and His eyes are upon us.

May you look to Him, today. May you feel His arms around you.  “He is here; holy; holy.  He is here.  Amen.  He is here.  Hallelujah.  I will bless His Name, again.  He is here.  Listen closely; hear Him calling out your name.  He is here. You can touch Him.  You will never be the same.” (Gaither vocal band)

The Maple

When walking in the forests green

To valley wakening--kissed by spring--

I saw a tall, inviting maple:

One branch held a child's swing.

 

The swing blew gently in the wind

As silver leaves untouched by care

Laughed with a joy that circumstance

Could not erase through cold nor wear.

 

The roots went deeply in the ground

With steadiness grown by the years

That learned through Heaven how to stand

And how to lay down pains and fears.

 

In spring as new life rings the dawning

End of winter's bitter cold,

Bright, budding flowers laced with red

Burst forth in glory manifold.

 

And in the summer's lengthened days,

It dances in the breezes soft
And sings beside the willows there;

Its graceful branches held aloft.

 

There in the fall to dawn with golden

Hues of change, yet pressing on,

The silver maple sings of life determined

Hope that's never gone.

 

And in the winter, as it sleeps, it roots grow

Only deeper still;

Its branches reaching up toward Heaven;

Its song declaring, "Have Your will."

There, in the spring, as long I stood

And gazed upon the maple, sweet,

I lay beneath its branches and I smiled

At the joyous beat

 

Of rhythm as its branches swayed;

The swing rejoicing as it played.
"Peace ever triumphs," came the song;

There in the maple, Heaven displayed.

Growing Young

"I've gone so far from my home; I've seen the world and I have known so many secrets I wish now I did not know .'Cause they have crept into my heart. They have left it cold and dark and bleeding; bleeding and falling apart. Everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry, but I've been around enough to know that that was the lie that held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons. Well, we are children no more; we have sinned and grown old, and our Father still waits and He watches down the road to see the crying boys come running back to His arms and be growing young. Growing young. 
I've seen silver turn to dross: seen the very best there ever was, and I'll tell you it ain't worth what it costs. I remember my father's house…what I wouldn't give right now just to see him and hear him tell me that he loves me so much.  Everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry, but I've been around enough to know that that was the lie that held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons. Well, we are children no more; we have sinned and grown old, and our Father still waits and He watches down the road to see the crying boys come running back to His arms. When I thought that I was all alone, it was your voice I heard calling me back home and I wonder, now, Lord, what it was that made me wait so long?  What kept You waiting for me all that time? Was Your love stronger than my foolish pride? Will You take me back, now? Take me back and let me be Your child ‘cause I've been broken, now; I've been saved. I've learned to cry, and I've learned how to pray, and I'm learning. I'm learning even I can be changed…Growing young."

I’ve been thinking, lately: this is a season of change.  This is not the first such season we have had; as Solomon said in Ecclesiastes, “There is nothing new under the sun.  What has been will be, again.”  In my heart, I feel a certain heaviness even as I look with joy to all God is doing in His people and around the world.  I see Him waiting with arms wide open to hold us close, and dry each tear, and whisper His gentle promises.  The heaviness I feel are all those things which keep us back from those places God longs to take us.  He longs to give us rest, and peace, and freedom, but our own ideas about what’s required of us holds us to a time of fear, or failure, or striving to have everything “just so.”  We either shy away from greatness—convinced that we will eventually fall, or we accept a role of leadership which takes us deeper and deeper into needing to never fail.  In all of that, I see men and women of destiny hiding their tears from the rest of the world; I see them struggle on their own; I see lights flickering on brightly and then dimming out with a desperate last cry.  As David said, “How the mighty have fallen in Israel!”

In Saul’s day, Saul was never convinced that he could be king.  He hid from responsibility when God called him to come forward and lead, and then ran away from God’s instructions in order to do things a “better” way (in his mind) out of insecurity and fear.  That same fear of failure which motivated Saul to hide when Samuel came to anoint Saul to be king is the same fear that caused Saul to hold back the spoils of war in a display of “greatness” and then hide from what he had done.  How many leaders run from vulnerability; from transparency; away from leading out of a broken dependence upon the Lord?  How many run into places of striving; of perfectionism; of fear of failure; of needing everything to be “bigger”; “greater”; “faster”; “better”?  Even holiness, and private study, and individual prayer then become a means of “pushing” themselves into perfectionism, and less and less a place of rest where they can just “be” and by His love be set free.  What we do does not make us who we are; what we do flows out of a place of what is already inside of us.

I weep for Robin Williams who entertained the world but never found anyone who could give him answers or dry his tears; I weep for Whitney Houston who sang of Jesus, and rescuing love, but never felt “at home” enough to let her guard down and let love save her; I weep for their loneliness; I weep for lights gone out.  I weep for John Lennon who asked missionaries in Asia, “What is truth?” and that they were so blinded by his stardom, they felt they couldn’t help.  I weep for Christian leaders struggling to keep standing and all the while dealing with private sin and pain, but unable to reach for help for fear it will make them “weaker”: I weep for those who make the struggle their identity, and out of fear of not being able to change, adopt a stance of, “This is how I am, and God loves me, so deal with it.”  I weep for both extremes, and for the sheep in the middle with no shepherd while Jesus stands weeping ready to gather them into His arms and make them His.

David cried out when his brothers accused him at “playing” at being a soldier before the threats of Goliath, “What have I done?  Is there not a cause (a reason to speak up)?”  Around the world, babies are dying; young men and women are sold into slavery or enticed by drugs or prostitution; compromise begins in the small things with what we put on T.V. or listen to in our headsets to “check out” from the pain.  The words we allow ourselves to say (spilling over from the pain or anger in our hearts); the distance we put between ourselves and those who love us; the opinions we allow to rule us as if those same opinions are God: all these things are nothing new.  Jesus rebuked the Pharisees saying, “You search (anxiously poring over and memorizing) the Scriptures, because you think they give life and it is they which testify of Me!”  In other words, we can do all the right things and never know His peace and rest; we can force ourselves to “measure up”; we can pore over His Word without letting that same Word breathe life into our relationship with Him and from there into the relationships around us. 

So, how do we know if we truly know Him or are just seeking to know about Him; how can we tell if we are only His servants, or if we’ve let ourselves become “sons”?  The answer is in the following questions: How much do we say, “I have to do more”; “I have to get into His Presence”; “I have to put Him first,” and how do we say, “Jesus I choose You.  Thank You for helping me grow.  Thank You for what You’re doing in me.  Thank You for what You’ve already done.  Thank You that Your Presence is always with me; help me make time to stop and see how much You’re already there.”

There is a place of rest in Him—a place where we stop striving.  In that place, we do even more than we did before; we see greater fruit than we’ve ever known.  But it is all coming out of a relationship with Him; growing as babies grow by leaning on their mother’s chest.  Each baby (in a “perfect” world) learns to talk, and crawl, and walk, and eat, and sleep, and then work, and play, and grow, and dream.  May we never be too big to cry as those babies do, but may we never try to hold in the place of “remaining” a child out of fear of growing, and possibly stumbling.  He will catch us; He will teach us; He will lead us, but we must keep moving forward, and have the courage to say, “Jesus (not my works; not my pride; not my greatness; not my relationships, or ministry, or reputatation, or success), JESUS is all I need.”