authority vs. control

Today I asked a question (for the sake of clarity) and was met with the statement that this learning arrangement was never going to work if I couldn't be a student and just listen and just say "okay."  (I know it sounds unreasonably harsh, but it was spoken kindly, not rudely, believe it or not.)

Even so, though, my initial internal reaction was less than understanding of such a restrictive and offensive expectation.  I was tempted to think I didn't have the skills to navigate this kind of learning arrangement but a greater part of me decided I would withhold my judgment on that until I talked to God about it.  After all, that's the least I could do since I feel I am in this learning position as a gift from Him and I have a feeling that God is trying to teach me things that go beyond music theory and whatnot. 

Besides, I have heard this individual speak words on behalf of God many, many times to me. And because I see God evidenced in their lives and actions, I choose to honor their authority.  I trust God.  I trust His servant too.  So if something doesn't seem right, I'm probably the one missing something. 

I was prepared for God to place some truth on my heart about this commanding person's personality or something that would make me more understanding or patient or whatever.  But instead I felt God highlighting the spoken words in my mind over and over and over:  I just need you to listen and just say "okay."  

And then it hit me.  It was God talking through a servant again.  God was saying, Oh, how I wish you would just stop talking and questioning me and just listen!  You say you want to be my servant, and to be used and to learn from me but if that's true, you need to listen and do what I say.  

But of course, as is my unfortunate habit, I argued with God and said, "But I didn't question him.  I was just asking a question for the sake of clarity."  

But the quick response was, No, you were questioning him.  You doubted that he was clear.  There is a difference between asking questions and questioning someone's authority or instructions.  I know, cause you do it to me all the time.  I love you and I really want to be able to use you, but if you can't just listen and follow my lead, this is never going to work.  

I'll be honest, it's not easy to be disciplined by God.  And to be quite honest, it seemed a little harsh, given the fact that I've felt like I have been submitted to God's leading and His direction for a while now.  

But the real truth is that even though I actively submit my heart, my will, and my life to God on a daily basis, there are still so many times I doubt and hesitate and then start to question Him.

I know God doesn't expect us to be mindless zombies, following and obeying without a will of our own.  And God is not asking me for that, He's just asking me to trust Him.  He's been asking me to trust Him ever since November 25 and I have consistently doubted and questioned His leading since that day.  Why?  Mainly because I'm scared.  I've entered into territory with which I am not experienced.  And it's frightening.  But God is constantly telling me, Trust me, please.  He is not asking me to live without a will; He just so badly wants my will to be to trust in Him, for my sake.  

And so today's "would-be" offensive comment turned out to be a very applicable reminder from God to stop and just listen.  

But while I have you here, reading, I'd like to address the issue of control versus authority because it came to mind after such a bold statement about just listening and saying "okay."  

In the past, I have experienced people trying to control me with their commands and demands. And sometimes with a passive aggressive manner. But it all resulted in the same approach, which said, "Do what I say or else..."  Or else I will not treat you lovingly.  Or else I will punish you or hurt you. 

Yeah, I've dealt with enough of that in my life that I'm quite sensitive to those kinds of situations. And I will not subject myself to them if I have a choice. 

But authority...

Authority can be defined as: The power to influence others, especially because of one's commanding manner, or one's recognized knowledge about something. 

A commanding manner can be somewhat off-putting for some people because they confuse it with unreasonable dominance. But a man (or woman) who can command respect and agreement is actually admirable and created in the image of God.

The trick is trying to discern the difference between someone who speaks with authority and one who tries to assert control.  

I'll be honest, using the standards of the world to gauge this would be nigh impossible. But using God as our meter stick makes it a breeze. 

Is the authoritative individual a godly person?  Do they seek God diligently, love Him, and shine His light for others?  Are they compassionate and thoughtful; understanding and gentle?  If the answers to these questions are "yes" then it can be safely concluded that the individual is working under the authority of God. In that case, respect and submission would be in our best interest since this person was established by God in a position of authority. And so submitting to that authority is essentially submitting to God.  And even if the person in authority makes mistakes or is wrong or imperfect (all of which will happen and are true), because we acknowledge God in the order, He takes care of us and honors our compliant attitude.  

But if the individual exerting authority is not godly and does not respect others, but is instead self-centered and unthoughtful, then it's pretty safe to assume that their authority is not established by God and therefore, being blindly submitted to their authority may not be in the best interest of everyone involved.  

I understand that the Bible says that kings and rulers are established and removed by God’s will.  And Jesus did encourage the people to give to the king what was due to the king.  But I’m not talking about those kinds of leaders.  I’m talking about the more common leaders; pastors, teachers, husbands, mentors, etc.  

The marriage arrangement is a bit different because I believe that even when a husband is not representing God, a wife who submits to his authority in an effort to honor her Heavenly Husband, will be honored and protected by Jesus.  I have first-hand experience in that, and a testimony that will restore your faith in the God-Man-Woman dynamic.  But that's a story for another blog. 

But for the rest of the leaders that God has placed in a position of authority, to be willing to accept their leadership would not only honor God, but might provide us with God's guidance and blessings.  I have someone in my life right now that seems to be shaped by God to be a powerful guide and I've noticed that whenever they have essentially "commanded" me, it has always been for my interest.  They have never spoken authoritatively for their own selfish aims, but always for my sake.  Wow!  What a far cry from what I've dealt with before.  Realizing that makes me want to submit to their authority.  I should look forward to it and anticipate opportunities to just listen and then say, "okay."  Also, I always have a choice.  Authority isn't a license to practice being a dictator.  Dictators don't give you a choice; it's "do it or else."  But authority speaks boldly and says, "I know what I'm talking about; please let me guide you."  

If you recall the above-stated definition, authority influences people, it doesn't order people around. We choose whether we want to surrender ourselves to their guidance or not.  I choose to surrender and pray that my surrender to earthly authorities will strengthen my submission to God's authority in my spiritual and physical life.  

Oh how I wish that people could see the difference between authority and control.  For our sake, but also for the sake of honoring those who God is shaping for His ministry and purpose.  If we were all able to respect those that God has established, imagine how much more effective those servants would be for God and for His people.  

But how do I do all this without looking like I'm some push-over?  Cause heaven knows I'm not.  I've got the stubborn will of a mule sometimes.  Oh well, I guess that's a topic for another day...

salvation; a non-issue

Salvation by faith?  Salvation by works?  Salvation from God?  Salvation...

Why are we even talking about salvation?  When did that become our primary focus?  The discussion of salvation is only for children.  Children, who don't have the maturity to comprehend love-based actions yet.  "Here's what you can do to stay out of trouble, kids."  or  "If you don't eat all your veggies you don't get dessert."  or  "Obey mommy or you will get a punishment." Kids don't naturally operate with "self" out of the picture and so they need obvious rewards and punishments to guide what should be their natural choices.  But when they grow older, they ought to have had the opportunity to develop a love relationship with their parents enough so that they want to honor them and obey.  At that point, consequences and rewards are not the focus anymore; but rather an intimate loving relationship with a God-established parent.

So then, why do we still talk about salvation as if it's the aim, the goal, the prize?  "If you want to be saved then you need to..."  or  "Remain faithful to God so that you can be saved."  All my life, I have heard one preacher after another, and one parent after another, dangle heaven in front of me like a carrot on a string for a bunny.  "See?  Don't you want all these good things?  No more tears, streets of gold, your own mansion, living forever, amazing food, all your friends..."  Ah, but those individuals don't even know what heaven is.  Heaven is not things and prizes; it's Jesus, to have and to hold for all eternity.

This morning, as I was making some tea, I recalled many memories of well-intentioned Christians trying to alter my adult behavior or choices so that I could "get into" heaven.  One day, as my grandfather and I worked in my garden, he asked me if I wanted to go to heaven.  I knew exactly where he was going with this since it was the first time he had a chance to talk to me since I had gotten married.  I politely answered, "Yes, Grandpa, I do."  Then without looking at me, he continued to rake in the garden, and said, "Then take off your wedding band."  My grandfather believed that wearing jewelry was a grave offense against God, one that could actually bar you from entering heaven.  I just responded that if my wedding band would keep me out of heaven, then I wasn't real sure that's the kind of place I wanted to aim for.  I know I grossly offended him with my insensitive comment but it angered and saddened me that this was how he viewed heaven and God.

Even more recently, I have had people try to steer me towards heaven with all these warnings and threats and sometimes promises.  "Don't get divorced.  God doesn't forgive divorce.  You're hurting your children; they will be ruined forever and will reject God and embrace a life of prostitution and abuse."  Yes, I actually had someone tell me that.  I was warned, in a very long letter, to stay married at all costs for the sake of my children and salvation.  I was told that my children would thank me later.  Yeah, right.  Let me show you the children who are filled with anger and vengeance against a parent that spiritually abused their family in spite of the pleas from the children to be free from his tyrannical dictatorship.  Wanna talk about sins that bar you from heaven?  Revenge, hatred, deep-seated resentment...  Let me show you the child that has submitted to a life of an alcoholic or an abuser as a result of being abused by a parent who couldn't handle the stress of parenting.  Let me show you the children that reject the Heavenly Father because their own parents so grossly misrepresented Him.  Sorry, you're not going to convince me that staying together at all costs is what is best for the children.  Although I agree that many parents give up too easily, in the case of evil or darkness, get the hell out of there.  Anyway, I got a little carried away here.  Back to my point...

The issue of "salvation" seems to be on the forefront of so many people's minds.  It's the focal point that establishes the wrong kind of foundation.  It's like racism.  People talk about it in an effort to educate people for the sake of overcoming it and yet it has become the focus and done more lasting damage as an ongoing topic than it would have as a stand-alone issue.  Morgan Freeman was quoted, "You want to stop racism?  Stop talking about it."  Overcome racism with the opposite of racism.  Teach love and tolerance for ALL people and racism becomes a non-issue.

So it is with salvation.  The discussion of salvation only identifies whether you have it or you don't.  Black and white.  Get it or you're on the outside of the pearly gates.  That is such a sad, sad perspective.  I'd rather see us testify of Jesus' grace and His forgiving mercy.  Talk about His endless love and tenderness for us.  Share His goodness with others.  And salvation will not even be an issue of discussion anymore.  Because anyone who is in love with Jesus will bear the fruits of that love, in their time, in their way.  And salvation becomes just a side order to the main course of a reciprocal love relationship with Jesus.  Heaven will be the natural next step, not the prize at the end.  It is, indeed, the reward that awaits the faithful, but that's only the kind of stuff you say before people understand what it means to love Jesus.  But we understand Him; we love Him.  Let's not talk about salvation anymore, please.  Let's just talk about Jesus.


I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. 1 Corinthians 3:2

When we were children, we thought and reasoned as children do.  But when we grew up, we quit our childish ways.  1 Corinthians 13:11

Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness.  But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.  Hebrews 5:13-14.  

never good enough

No matter how hard I aim for perfection, I will never be good enough.  Years ago, my main aim was to be a perfect wife.  But I felt that no matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough; never what my husband wanted and I would get so discouraged because I wanted that more than anything.  What I finally came to realize was that by human standards, I would never be good enough.  And I had to step back from trying to please imperfect humans and aim to please God instead.  I came to understand that my value as a wife was only fulfilled when I saw myself as God's wife.  I treated my earthly husband as I would have treated God and for the first time in my life, I felt fulfilled!  I didn't feel perfect, but when my imperfections were highlighted, it was always hopeful.  I was filled with hope that God would address my shortcomings and I had joy that I was always moving forward.  Never reaching perfection, of course, but aiming for the Light and that was good enough for me.  Because I was pleasing God and I had immense joy in that.

I rode that joy for a while (independent of the fact that I still was not pleasing to my spouse).  And I thought I'd take it a step further and ask God to shine a light on any darkness in my own soul.  I was willing to allow Him to expose anything that needed to be cured by His glorious light.  Oh boy...had I realized what I was asking, I doubt I would have had the courage to go through with such a request.

God shined His light and it was bright.  I could see, with painful clarity, where I was not representing Him and I knew I didn't want to harbor those sins anymore.  At first it was rather discouraging to see how sinful I actually was since I had previously considered myself to be a relatively nice, easy-to-get-along-with person.  I saw my faults laid out in a raw format before me and was overwhelmed by the amount of work required to refine me.  I felt that I would never, ever, be able to get rid of all my issues; I had no skills to be able to address this much garbage.  How deep would I need to dig to find the source of my issues?

But my discouragement was short-lived as I quickly realized that God was the one who would do the refining.  I only needed to be willing to submit to His will.  Through His grace, I experienced freedom from so many chains and have never forgotten what He's done for me and still does for me.

But now, I'm having a hard time transferring the knowledge of that experience to my current situation.  I suddenly feel inadequate again.  I feel not only deficient in skill but overwhelmed by the daunting task that lies before me.  Yes, I'm talking about music again.  More recently God has brought more music into my life for the first time in so, so long.  I relished in the enjoyment of it for a few months but now I'm realizing how much I actually have to learn!  I'm painfully disheartened by the fears that I may not be able to learn what it is I want to learn.  How far back do I even need to go to unlearn the things I learned incorrectly?  Will I even have the time and resources available to grow in this knowledge, not to mention the skills?  And then what's the purpose, even?  Why this sudden drive to learn and educate myself?  Is it just for my own enjoyment and edification?  That seems like a selfish focus.  It was suggested that everything I learn is for God's glory.  But how does improving my musical skills provide me with an opportunity to praise God?  Does He really need me to be an advanced musician to praise Him?  I doubt it.

But then someone pointed out to me that God has given me this opportunity to learn, because He loves me and He knows this brings me joy.  God has put me in a place where I have opportunities and surrounded me with people that can teach me.  So if this is a gift from God, then it will be God that provides the skill to be able to accomplish this task, right?

I feel like that should be right.  And yet I'm still intimidated by the prospect of realizing how little I actually know.

I wish I had that same hope that I had a few years ago when God was exposing all my faults.  After working through some of my issues, I would actually get excited when God highlighted another deficiency.  I was like, "Ooh, yes!  Let's address this one now!"  It was invigorating.  Because I knew that God was capable.  I knew He was the best at dealing with my stuff.  I had full confidence in Him.

So how come I don't have confidence now?


It's because I'm making it about me, isn't it?  Ugh.  Harsh realization.  Today, a friend told me that when God looks at us, He makes everything about us; He adores us so incredibly much.  But when we look at Him, we are to make everything about Him.  It's a pretty neat dynamic, really.

So okay, I will make this about Him and see if I feel better about it.  This drive to learn; this opportunity to learn; it's from Him and for Him.  I'm irrelevant; just a servant, really.

Huh... okay.  This is suddenly quite hopeful.  I wonder where's He's going to go with this....

persistent dust

The bane of my housekeeping existence is dust.

Those tiny particles that are constantly on the move; relentlessly searching for surfaces on which to breed. Yeah, that's right, I said "breed."  Cause that's certainly what it feels like. One minute there's no dust, then next thing you know, it shows up, followed by even more the next day. 

At least when I vacuum or wash the floor or do laundry, there is a period of a few days where I can enjoy the completion of the task until I am required to do it again. But not dust. No, with dust, I wipe the furniture and before I even turn around, at least a half dozen particles have already descended onto my table. 

The only way to enjoy a relatively dust-free house is to eliminate all dust-producing culprits; children, pets, fabric furniture, carpet, air ducts, movement, breathing, gravity, etc. But since that's obviously not possible, I suppose I'd be content with a live-in dust maid that wiped everything down three times a day. Because if it builds up, it can be quite unsightly and cause some serious problems like allergies or asthma. 

I cleaned my house thoroughly this afternoon. But as I was brushing my teeth before bed, I noticed my white ceramic soap dispenser had a fine scattering of dust particles on it.  I groaned and decided dust was evil and I will never escape it as long as I'm on this earth. And before I even finished brushing, an object lesson was shaped in my mind. 

I could see how dust resembled the influence of the enemy. How no matter how much I aim to seek God and rest in His presence and Word, I can't escape the enemy's attempts to influence my everything.  It's annoying and just down-right frustrating. But it can also be dangerous if it builds up. 

Evil dust. The stuff that settles on my heart and on my spirit. The dust that influences my ability to respond in a gentle or patient manner. The dust that prevents me from exercising my faith in God during a trial. The dust that distracts me and makes the world's lies more appealing than God's truths. And even the dust that covers up the unforgiveness my heart still harbors. 

My only safeguard against this evil dust is to target it every day. But also to eliminate the things that can contribute to the dust problem. With God-gifted motivation, I have been able to eliminate some of the activities that would increase the dust production so at least I can breathe a little easier. But sometimes, I hate to admit it, the dust builds up because I'm not maintaining properly.   All of the changes in my life are credited to God's goodness and grace but there is one thing I can do, and that is to maintain my desire for God. It's a choice only I can make for myself. And that means that when I am awakened early and find myself impressed to spend time with God, I respond to it instead of rolling over and snuggling back up in my warm blanket. Maintaining means looking for opportunities to savor the treasure of His Word instead of distracting myself with other forms of silliness. It means practicing faith, every day, praying, "I choose to put my faith in you, God. You are faithful."  It means making daily statements of submission and commitment to God. 

I'm not necessarily writing to the readers of the blog. I'm writing to myself for the reminder. I need to be reminded to approach my walk with God very consciously and very deliberately. Otherwise the dust stacks up and it becomes a visual offense not only to me but to anyone that I invite into my life.

I hate the dust that litters my house on a perpetual basis, but now I also appreciate the reminder to make a thoughtful decision about targeting the dust daily; even several times a day!  So now when I see the dust in my house, I'll actually praise God for the object lesson and then praise Him for being the best dust killer, ever!  

Who knew that neglecting to wash off my soap dispenser could result in such a valuable reminder. I love how God works to influence the mind. He's so cool. 

to sword or not to sword

He said to them, "But now if you have a purse, take it, and also a bag; and if you have no sword, sell your cloak and buy one."  Luke 22:36

And then two verses after He tells the disciples to get swords, they tell him that they have two and He says, That's enough! Luke 22:38.

I'll admit, Jesus' instructions to His disciples about owning a weapon has always baffled me. Because in Matthew's account of Jesus' arrest, Jesus says to Peter, Put your sword back in its place...for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.  Matt 26:52


So which one is it?  Get a sword or don't get a sword?


When the impression first came to me to arm myself, I dismissed it because I honestly believe that God is enough.  Yeah, yeah, I know how God will sometimes provide a way for us to protect ourselves and that IS His way of protecting us.  I get it.  But still, I don't want my faith to be in a physical weapon; I want my faith to be in my faithful Savior.

So I have prayed about this for quite some time now.  I have never had random individuals suddenly suggest that I arm myself and yet in the last couple of months, it has happened quite a bit.  But with every new direction, I prefer to take the time to study whether this is a direction from God or a distraction from the enemy.

When I finally considered the idea of owning a weapon, I suddenly felt unsafe because I didn't have it yet.  So I thought, Well that's a load of garbage.  Now I suddenly don't feel safe because I'm not armed?  Forget it.  I don't want a stupid weapon if it's going to shift my faith from God to it.  

And yet, the impression remained, regardless of how hard I tried to push it away.  I made a lot of excuses.  I even used my children as an excuse.  I decided it was not safe to have a weapon in the house with children.  But then I stumbled across an ad for a quick-access hand-print weapon safe.  So that excuse got blown out of the water.

Recently I was praying about a challenge I'm currently facing and "buy a weapon" suddenly popped into my mind again.  I sat there, contemplating the impression.  I identified the fact that I was not afraid so that impression could not have been a result of fear.  (by the way, making decisions out of fear is a very dangerous thing so do try to avoid it, if at all possible).  I asked God a simple "Why?" and then waited for clarity.

And then it hit me.

The weapon is not for MY protection.  If it was, Jesus would have told all the disciples to arm themselves well.  And yet two swords were sufficient.  If it was for my protection, Jesus' instructions to the disciples would have included to practice to be the best swordsman in case they had to fight.  If it was for my protection, Jesus would never have made the statement that those who draw the sword, die by it.

I honestly don't think Jesus intended for the disciples to actually wield their swords at all.  They certainly didn't use them when they were being persecuted and killed for their testimony.

So then, why?  Who is the sword supposed to protect if not God's servants?

Well... how about trouble-makers that would be tempted to do harm to the disciples?  Because those that would harm them might be spared from that evil if there was an obvious deterrent in their line of sight.  It is sad to me that there are so many out there that do not appropriately fear the awesome protecting power of God.  They do not respect His authority to preserve the lives of His children.  And so the only language you can speak to them is the language of this world.  And in this world, having the ability to defend yourself can quite likely dissuade a potential wrong-doer, essentially sparing them the consequences of their actions.

From this perspective, it seems quite fitting that we, as Christians, should do everything in our power to protect everyone, even those that would try to do us harm.

I understand many Christians would take issue with my thought process and I'm open to other understandings, but for now, this is my conclusion on the verses listed above.  And my conclusion on the issue of owning a weapon.  I'm satisfied with it and have decided to share it for anyone else that has internally debated the need for a weapon.


(But yeah, definitely get trained for proper usage if you choose to own one).

one bread, one body

I recently started frequenting a new church, initially for the music opportunities but then also for the fellowship of believers.  I am aware of the presence of God, and His light and His love, whenever I walk through the doors of that church.  I believe God led me there and I am grateful for His leading because that church family has ministered to my needs so beautifully.

But as I explored the traditions of the new church, I had many questions and started seeking answers. The tradition of interest on my mind, recently, was that of communion.  I grew up in a church that celebrated communion once per quarter (four times per year).  Even as a young child I noticed the reduced number of attendees during the communion Sabbaths and was confused by it.  I would hear people walk into the church and see the communion table set up at the front and say, "Oh shoot, I didn't realize it was communion this Sabbath."  And they would leave.

After I started participating in the service, as a teenager, I found the entire service to be quite meaningful.  We always began in the church as a group, then divided up into separate rooms for the foot washing service.  There was a room for women, a room for men and a room for families.  The service was always solemn and beautiful and periodically someone would begin to sing a soulful hymn and other women would join in.  Our voices were raised as one to our Savior, the One who set the example of servitude with His love.

Then we would all join together again in the sanctuary for the unleavened bread and the grape juice.  But by then it was quite evident that many of the church members had already dissipated, probably prior to the foot washing.  The remaining church family would sit and listen to the Scripture about the Last Supper being read and we would accept the bread and the grape juice as symbols of His sacrifice.  I used to look around at others when the bread and juice were being handed out and would notice how some of them would hold it in their hands, bow their heads and sit in silence.  I assumed they were praying to God to renew their commitment to Him or whatever.  That seemed beautifully appropriate and so I decided I would do that as well.  Then we'd sing another hymn and then go home.

I always treasured the service.  But after I got married, my attitude towards communion seemed to shift.  I found that I became the person that avoided communion Sabbaths.  Sometimes I would kind of get stuck in it because I might be involved in the program for the day and couldn't get out of it.  But I didn't enjoy it and felt like something was wrong.  I actually attended very few services during those 16 years.  I felt sinful because the holy significance of the service was suddenly lost to me.  I honestly felt that I was sinning against God if my heart wasn't in tune with the meaning of the experience.

When we moved to another church, I learned that they only did communion once a year and I was suddenly so relieved.  But it wasn't long after that, that I opened the door to God's knocking on my heart and I started searching for Him with all of my heart.  My life and my perspective changed significantly as He continued to reveal Himself to me more and more.  When it was time for the communion on New Year's Eve, we were unable to attend for whatever reason and I felt myself grieving the loss.  I so badly wanted to present myself before God, seek His forgiveness, recommit myself to Him and thank Him for His eternal sacrifice that made it possible for me to even stand in His presence.  I missed next year's service too and I felt such a loss.  I longed to experience that sacred moment again and just couldn't seem to get to.  Until now, it had been years since I had the chance to participate in a communion service.

Given my history, you would think that I would be glad about the opportunity to experience communion every week, like this new church offers.  But I wasn't sure.  So for almost two months, I've declined their invitation to participate in their communion blessing.

But this last Thursday I had an opportunity to discuss the concept of communion with a friend during a very educational conversation.  I learned so much about it, how other churches view it, how they've celebrated it, and what it means to different groups of people.  I walked away with the conviction that how often a church presents communion is not nearly as relevant as how we interpret its meaning; it's really all about what is in our hearts that determines what kind of blessing we receive from it.  All good information, but I still hadn't made up my mind about whether I was ready to participate with this particular church because I still had some research I wanted to pursue.

I know it may seem silly to some people that I over-thought this common tradition.  But there was something heavy in my heart that told me this was not a simple matter and that it should be undertaken with thoughtfulness and prayer.

So the night before church, I was heading off to bed and I felt God inviting me to finish my research.  I looked at the time and was like, "Ugh, really?  It's so late and I wake up so stinking early.  There's no rush, is there?  I have time to do this research later."  But the prompting was pretty firm, so I laid in bed researching communion on my iPhone for quite some time.

What Paul said about communion really seemed to hit home:

Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner, shall be guilty of the body and the blood of the Lord.  But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of the bread and drink of the cup.  For he who eats and drinks, eats and drinks judgment to himself, if he does not judge the body rightly.  1 Corinthians 11:27-29

I realized it honored God that I desired to study this topic and ask for His guidance on the matter.  I found several articles online outlining the Biblical rationale for how often to take communion.

I concluded that there was no firm indication in the Bible that dictated how often we should have communion and that so much of the blessing was entirely dependent on our heart's response to God's sacrifice.

Does this current church celebrate communion as I would truly desire?  Not totally.  I long for more fellowship, more communion and even a meal together.  But in the meantime, the reminder of His sacrifice is available to me every week if I desire it.  If I do not feel my heart is in line with God's, I can choose to refrain.  And I will.  Not because I don't consider myself worthy but because I can't experience a sincere moment with God if I'm pushing Him away.  I don't want to see this as a tradition or a routine; I want it to remain as meaningful as Christ intended.  So I finished my research, content with my conclusion and put away my phone.  I decided that it would be beautiful that I should accept every opportunity to partake of this Lord's Supper reminder.

The next morning, I was doing the singing while the church was taking their communion.  In my heart, I wished I could enjoy it as well.  I felt so ready to do that.  But I couldn't since I was standing up front, singing.  Plus I was sure that the pastor had observed that I had never taken it before so he probably wouldn't offer it to me.

But Jesus has such a marvelous way of working things out for our benefit.  I smile wide, even now, as I recall the moment.  After the pastor and the two women finished serving the church family, they came and patiently stood right in front of me and the organist, for the duration of the entire last verse.  Just standing there, smiling at us, waiting to serve us.  My heart was brimming with love for the leadership of the church that submits itself to God's will and I couldn't keep from smiling.  And I was so grateful for the conversation the organist and I had had just a few days prior.  The organist led the way and I tried to follow his lead since I'd never done this before.  I know I messed it up because I wasn't paying careful attention to what he did first; I wasn't sure what to do with the little glass of wine; do I just dip or drink or what?

Regardless of my inexperience, I can't keep my heart from swelling with love for God for this little thing that He did for me.  If He hadn't prompted me to study this topic....if He hadn't prompted my friend to discuss it with me...if He hadn't placed this on my heart at all, I would have been so terribly uncomfortable when the pastor invited me to take communion, in front of everyone that was present.

I don't know if my words convey the joy I have in my heart in regards to this entire experience.  I just see His hand at work and His light shining on my path.  And I am filled with love for His tenderness and care of even things that others might find inconsequential.

And now my mind is drawn to the original Lord's Supper as Christ broke the bread for His own disciples and my heart longs to experience that meal with Him too.  I wish I had been there that night.  But perhaps - knowing what I know about the subsequent events - perhaps my heart wouldn't be able to handle the heartbreaking experience.

I can imagine Jesus' flawless hands, offering me bread just hours before they would be nailed to a cross in the most inhumane and torturous method of punishment reserved for the world's worst sinners.  Sinners like you and me.

I can imagine Him offering the wine, while the blood began to trickle out of His heart as He looked around at the ones He loved.  With a breaking heart, He anticipated the pain they would experience when they ran away in fear and He longed to hold them and comfort them.

I can imagine that, knowing what I know now, the desire of my heart would be to beg Him to let me take His place.  How could I allow my spotless Friend to take on my sins and suffer the judgment I had brought down upon myself?  Knowing what I know now, they would have had to chain me up to keep me from covering Him with my own body as they brought the whip down on His back; the back that bent over the sick, bent down to lift up the fallen, and bent down to our level for our own sake.

Knowing what I know now, how could I not beg God to change the plan and let everyone pay for their own sins?  I wouldn't be able to stand there and watch Him take on my death sentence.

And yet, I do, don't I?  Every time I choose to sin against my God with the knowledge that He can forgive me if I just ask, I am the one striking Him with the whip.  It doesn't make sense.  Why choose sin?  Why choose to distance myself from Him, because that's the definition of sin, isn't it?  Why invite one more thorn into His crown on my account?  That would not be love.

And so I look forward to renewing my devotion to Him and remembering His sacrifice every time I eat and drink and thank Him for His relentless love.  Some churches refer to the communion as the Eucharist.  That word actually comes from the Greek word eukharistia or eukharistos which means "thanksgiving" and "gratefulness."  If I cannot be grateful in this moment of remembrance, then I'm disrespecting Him and enjoying communion once a year or once a week is not going to make a difference.

This entire experience has been so eye-opening and heart-growing.  I can't praise Him enough for His love and for His thoughtfulness.  And I can't hardly wait until I can experience the supper with Him in the new earth.  In the meantime, though, He left us this beautiful reminder of the unity He shared with His disciples that night. And His heart's desire, the prayer of His anguished soul (in John 17), was that we would experience that oneness with each other as well, until we can experience it with Him in Heaven.

So in addition to a heart filled with thanks for His sacrifice I can pray for unity in the body of His believers.  And I pray for the oneness that would do Him honor and partially satisfy His longing to be with us too.

I don't usually link songs to my posts but I couldn't help myself.  Both of these songs draw my heart into worship for my Savior and encourages a longing to remain faithful and sincere.
How Beautiful 
Make Us One

From now on, whenever I take communion, Make Us One will the prayer of my heart.  And I hope it will be yours as well.

forgetting what is behind

For the last few days, maybe a week, I have been haunted by painful memories of loss.  It seems that one after another, they’ve been coming back, demanding my attention, purposely trying to wear me out and devastate me.  I have had trouble sleeping lately but that doesn’t seem to stop God from waking me up at unearthly hours to meet with Him.  His favorite times seem to be during the 4 o'clock hour. For the last few days, though, I turned Him down, begging Him to just let me sleep. But even while I was doing that, I knew I was running the risk of rejecting His strength if I needed it. 

Thursday morning, I was awakened at 3:30 and could feel God entreating me.  I was like, "What?  No!  I'm tired!  Let me sleep!" I tossed and turned for hours, desperately trying to go back to bed.  I prayed for people, I prayed for myself, I prayed for sleep.  No good.  I finally got out of bed at 6:30 but by then my kids were already awake and requiring my attention.

That night the memories hit hard and were compounded by feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness.  I remembered rejecting His invitation to rest in His presence that morning, and I knew that if I had accepted, I might not be suffering with such a painful load.  But even with that knowledge, I still made the choice to run further away from Him, rather than to Him.  

I don't understand why I do that.  I don't understand why I run.  Logically speaking, it makes no sense.  It's like traveling down a raging river in an out-of-control canoe and purposely paddling away from the edge, where there are people waiting to rein me into safety.  Absolutely ridiculous.  And yet I did it this week.  

I'm not accustomed to not meeting with God several times a day and so to have that absent from my life for a couple days really takes a toll on me.  And then that makes me angry and I think, "So what?  I'm supposed to constantly stay plugged in otherwise I'm wiped out?  Come on!  Why doesn't the charge last a little longer than that?" 

But then I'm reminded of Jesus and how He was constantly praying.  He was meeting with His Father whenever He had a chance.  And He was GOD!  If anyone could have the strength to navigate peacefully through life's garbage, it should be the Son of God.  If He needed it, how much more do I need it?  

So today, I decided to return to God.  I set apart my day to seek restoration for my wounded heart.  I felt God inviting me to read the book of Philippians so I read some of it on my iPhone while I was soaking in the tub.  But I only got a few verses into it before I got distracted with text messages and youtube videos of lovely music I was trying to learn.  I was aware of God's presence, but even so, rather than find peace, I was hit with more and more memories.  This time they were exceptionally vivid.  When I closed my eyes in tears, the images and the emotions surrounded me and closed in on the air I was trying to breathe.  And even though some of the memories were two years old, they hit my heart like they were just yesterday.  And I wanted to go back.  I wanted to go back to those moments.  I felt that God was trying to lead me away from them and I fought hard to stay faithful to what I believed should be.  I doubted God's leading in my life.  I doubted the direction on which He had placed me. I wanted to go back.  I wanted to go back to where I had been and not move forward anymore.  My mind grappled at how I could make that a possibility.  What would I do first?  Where would I go?  I determined that I would not be moved forward.  I would go back.  

I sat on my couch and just wept, painful sobs of anger and hurt and loss and grief.  I tried to get up to walk away from the onslaught of memories but there was nowhere to run.  In hopelessness, I sent out a request for prayer to four friends.  I didn't tell them why; just said I needed it.  I knew they would pray.  I tried to claim the promise that their prayers would be answered.  But it wasn't enough.  I was crushed by it all and could no longer see the light.  Overcome, I found myself, a sad heap, kneeling on the floor, as far down to the ground as possible, begging God for relief from all of it.  Wondering why He was so far away.  Begging Him to come to my aid and heal the brokenness of my heart.  Asking Him why it still hurt so badly after all this time.  When -  oh when - would He restore my broken spirit?

In desperation I reached for my Bible and begged God to offer me consolation.  It fell opened to Psalms 85 and I read, Restore us again, God our Savior, and put away your displeasure toward us.  Will you be angry with us forever? vs. 4-5

The verse was the cry of my heart and caused me to fall even further at His feet.  I cried, "Why are you angry with me?  What have I done?  Why are you so displeased?"

From the midst of the anguish, I heard a still small voice speak to my heart, You don't trust me.  You need to trust me.  

But how could I trust Him when I was so broken?  I had to trust that the path on which He placed me was the correct one?  That would require more faith than I possessed.  "I can't do it, God."  I moaned.  "I can't move forward.  Not with the memories.  Make them go away, please."  

I can't even remember doing it, but apparently I flipped to another section of my Bible and my eyes fell on Jeremiah 33, The Promise of Restoration.  My eyes were drawn to a verse I had highlighted last year, Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security. vs. 6

My sobs subsided and I stared at the promise, glowing in yellow on the page.  Promise of restoration?  The word "nevertheless" is what struck me hard.  I felt God was saying, I know you don't believe me.  I know you don't trust me.  But nevertheless, I WILL restore you as I promised.  I was resigned. "Okay," I said, "I choose to believe.  But it's not easy, God.  It just isn't.  But I trust you. I submit my life to you again.  I believe that I am where I need to be."   

I sat up a little straighter, still on the floor, and I heard another still small voice in my spirit, Why won't you read Philippians like I asked you to?  

I wiped away my tears, drew in a breath of clean air and sat on my couch with my Bible.  I opened to the back to find Philippians and discovered I had opened right to it (chapter 4).  Right in front of my eyes, highlighted on my page (in pink) were the words, 

The Lord is near.  

I knew, with assurance that He was.  I knew He hadn't abandoned me nor neglected my heart.  I knew that I could trust Him.  The memories still elicited broken tears but it was all so much more manageable when I submitted my will to Him.  

I read all of Philippians.  I found many, many nuggets of wisdom, direction, hope and encouragement in that small book.  And I suppose that can be said for any book of the Bible, but this was the one He prompted me to read and I think I know why.  

But one thing I do:  Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead. (3:13)

There it is, among a treasure trove of so many other words of encouragement and light; my direction.

But it is not without immeasurable sorrow that I let go of the past.  Part of me is still struggling to hang on but it is God that wills me to move forward.  And so I step forward in faith, with a broken heart, but with assurance of His presence.  The Lord is near.  

A few hours later, I finally turned my phone back on and connected with a friend that had prayed during my struggle.  In the conversation, I learned that the possibility of going back was even more severed than I had anticipated.  Had I learned of this prior to my moment with God, I fear it would have crushed me further.  I guess it's settled, then.  I'm not going back.  

So now I ask, "What's next, God?  I'm all yours."  

I know that this blog post is a lot more personal that I'm used to writing.  Letting readers into my very intimate spiritual struggle comes with a risk, I know. Vulnerability is not my favorite thing to experience.  And to be quite honest, I'm not even sure if this has value for anyone reading it.  But I decided to share it, nonetheless.  Maybe I just don't want to be alone.  Or maybe it's okay for me to reveal a moment where I experience brokenness and despair.  Because generally speaking, I am quite content, and am full of joy and love and strength in Jesus.  But for whatever reason, it might be helpful to admit a real struggle and its resolution. 

the air I breathe

After I put the kids to bed last night, I came back downstairs to my favorite spot in front of the fireplace to spend some time with God.  That's pretty much my standard habit, unless I'm utterly exhausted and I end up going to sleep when the kids do, so my kids know my patterns and yet they still test me.  About 10 minutes after I settled myself in my cozy chair and began my devotion, my daughter tiptoed down the stairs, "Mommy?" she inquired softly.  My quick (yet gentle) response was a simple, "No."  And she went back up the stairs because she knows; she was just testing me, like I said.  She'd had her cuddles, she had her story, her prayer, her lullaby, her kisses and everything she needed from me but she wanted more.  Part of me felt bad that I was pushing her away. But part of me didn't.

She came back downstairs a few minutes later and I had to tell her "no" again.  And explain (for the hundredth time in her life) that this is Mommy's time now and that when she interrupts it, she is interfering with my ability to be a good parent and be patient and all that jazz.  She knows.  She's been hearing me say this for years.  When I was married, I did the same thing.  Preserving time to spend with a spouse is a must when having children.  If you can't foster the most sacred union of the home, your home is bound to sustain some noticeable damage.  A lot of mothers tend to put their needy children above their spouses because they see children as helpless and in need of care. But I would encourage the perspective that the marriage union is in even more need of care than the children.

I don't have an earthly husband but my children know that Jesus is my husband and they make reference to that truth all the time.  So when I tell them that I need to spend time with God, they do get it, but they just still continue to push it, occasionally.  And I understand that's how kids are but I had to stop and wonder if, perhaps, I was neglecting them and they were trying to tell me that.

I'm trying to figure out how much time with God is enough and wondering if there indicators that say I'm missing out on some crucial mothering moments.  I don't know if my blog readers recognize that I don't actually write with a purpose sometimes; I just write, looking for answers and the answers just kind of show up while I'm writing. So this is my journey to figure out when I've spent enough time with God and when I need to step out of that spiritual world and into the physical one.  Cause I'll be honest, I could hang out and talk to God and study His stuff all day long.

I spend hours a day studying, writing, praying, searching.  Part of the benefit of not having to share my time with another adult is that I get all that time with God, alone.  But even when I was married, I was up into the night, in the early morning hours, while the kids napped, etc.  In other words, if you want to spend time with God, you will find the time.

But like I said, at what point does it become something that consumes me in an unbalanced way?  I understand the value of going to God before I try to parent but is it possible I'm spending too much time in prayer?  Okay, yes, I see how silly that sounds.  After all, the Bible tells us to pray at all times (1 Thes 5:17).  But you know what I'm saying, right?

The floor in my kitchen is due for a washing (last week!)  I need to replace the pump on the downstairs toilet.  My music books need to be reorganized.  My favorite shirt needs to be mended.  My garage fridge needs to be cleaned out.  I need to finish painting the kitchen.  My plants need to be trimmed and cleaned.  And don't even get me started on the yard work!  And so on and so forth.  So many things that are constantly in need of being done and yet, when I have a moment, I would rather talk to God or pick up an instrument or sit down and write about what I've just learned about Him.  As a result, the to-do list gets targeted only periodically, and yet it continues to grow.

It seems like I only devote enough time to keeping up with the daily tasks of all the animals and the food prep and laundry and vacuuming and errands and schoolwork and whatever.

No, I'm not necessarily feeling overwhelmed or anything (although, I seriously need to wash my kitchen floor).  I'm just taking some time to reflect on the balance.

Well shoot, I was really rather hoping I would have come to some conclusion by now instead of just rambling on and on.


Hmmm... okay.


I've admitted, before, that Bible verses are periodically placed in my heart's mind and I am always eager to look them up to see if they apply.  I can't say it's a hit-and-miss type situation, either.  It's always a hit, so thank you, God, for that gift!

Just as I was typing "rambling on and on..." Ecclesiastes 4:12 kind of showed up.  I was like, Really?  Ecclesiastes?  I can't even remember what that book is about.  But check it out:

The verse says, Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves, a cord of three strands is not quickly broken.  

Okay, that's just cool.  Big smile in my heart and on my face right now.

The truth is that when I do not seek God's presence, I am very easily overpowered and overwhelmed and I can hardly handle the level of work that I need to be doing. Those feelings impact my patience with my children, my joy, my rest, my interactions with others, my everything.  And so in spite of all this work I have to do, the fact that I am not overwhelmed by it is an indication that God is with me and I am not alone.  Huh.  That's really cool.

A cord of three strands... initially I thought about how amazing and wonderful it would be to be united in Christ with a partner but since that's not my reality right now, my mind wandered to the Trinity.  They are unbreakable. They are the cord of three strands that I want to invite into my life.  I want to weave myself into that strand and just kind of nestle myself into their strength.

What a lovely thought.  What a peaceful and restorative and hopeful objective.

I still don't know if I'm spending too much time with God and not enough time in the real world, but for now, I'm content with this conclusion.

I share my journey as a testimony but also as an encouragement for those I love.  And so I offer this counsel: if you are feeling overwhelmed or burdened, sit down, put up your feet and rest in His presence for a bit.  It's okay to put the kids in their rooms for a while and tell them to be quiet.  It's okay to let the dishes stack up in the sink for a few hours.  It's even okay to let the cats or chickens go without their food for an hour or so.  It's not going to kill them to wait a bit longer.  I'm not saying you should neglect your responsibilities, but too many people make their responsibilities their priority and then run out of time to actually breathe.

Airlines understand it.  Why can't we?  Put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others.  They have to state it, otherwise parents would be quick to tend to their own children's needs first and then the airplane would be left with a bunch of inexperienced children fending for themselves while all the intelligent adults were passed out.  That's so silly.  Such a silly thing we do.

Take the time to breathe.  I promise I will too.

coming home

I was doing some reflection today about the music I was enjoying.  I remember how silent my home used to be and I can't help but contrast it to the abundant amount of music that fills our home these days.  Although my kids like to tease me and yell, "Oh no!  Everyone get your ear plugs!" when I pick up the violin, I also can't stop them from banging away on their own little instruments.  Worship time isn't just devotionals and prayers anymore; it's guitar and drum and tambourine and the shaky egg thing and voices and joy and sound and love.

And I can't help but praise God for the change in the atmosphere we are experiencing now.  I can't ever forget.  I can't forget how I couldn't even touch the piano for months during a period of utter brokenness that I experienced a couple years ago.  I had a piano in my home, of course, but couldn't even touch it without falling apart.  I went for months and months, unable to play and I couldn't figure out why.  I tried; I prayed; I pleaded.  But even today, I honestly still don't have an answer as to why I couldn't play.  All I can speculate is that since my ability to praise God was all wrapped up in my music, because that was a very dark period, I imagine all of hell trying to tear out any trace of God in my spirit.  Awful times; dreadful memories.

But then I experienced freedom and peace.  An abundance of fresh air; light filtering in from every angle and I could breathe again.  But... at that time, I had no piano.  I had nothing except my guitar for one full year.  That's 365 days without a piano, added to the months and months without the will to play it.  Sometimes I thought I would wither away and die.  I even cried myself to sleep on occasion, wondering if God was punishing me for some reason.  I would think about my fingers caressing the keys of a piano and I would literally start to cry, longing to touch them again.  Wow, I'm a strange one, aren't I?

But this is my primary method of praise; it's what I feel I was given as a gift for that purpose, so I'm not that weird, am I?  And if I can't express God's gift, part of me suffers and grieves the loss.

So now, whenever I play, I remember.  And I doubt I'll ever forget.  And I am ever grateful to God for what He's given me at this time.  I have a church now, too, where I can play the beautiful grand piano whenever I have a chance.  And I do take every chance; before, between, and after services; midweek; whenever.  I would rather play it than be social or eat or go home.  Some may find that strange; strange that it's like a magnet for me.  But if they knew where I had come from or what it means to me, maybe they would understand and praise God with me.  It's true that the difference between that grand piano and my home piano is like the difference between a live performance and a cassette tape recording, and I used to wish for a quality grand piano in my own home.  But it's actually okay that I don't have one because I enjoy the significance of the church piano, appointed specifically for endless praise in worship and song.  It's almost like it's holy; set apart for a blessed purpose.  It's not the same as playing a piano in a music store or a hotel.  It's defined; it's sacred, and it seems to amplify the prayers of my heart somehow.

Music, especially when I'm creating it, is my worship, my praise, and sometimes even the air I breathe.  I'm alive and I am filled with joy and my heart is even overwhelmed to the point of tears when I'm experiencing it.  Is this normal?  Seriously, I feel like there's something bizarre about me.  Maybe it's a phase I'm going through.  Or maybe it's the real thing.  Maybe I'm finally home.

Yeah, that's it.


Home...


Home.



I've come home.

I don't ever want to forget and take His gift for granted.  I want to continue in constant praise for God because He's brought me home.

And every time I sing or play or experience music, I want that pathway of praise between me and Heaven to be blazed in fire and light.  Forever.  Until I can travel it to my eternal Home.

what plan?

I found this little sign the other day and I was promptly turned off by it.  So I downloaded it, crossed it out and decided to say my piece about it.

At first, the quote above appears to be an encouraging sentiment, perhaps offered to individuals as assurance that God is in control.

But the problem I have with this is that it misrepresents my loving God.  Plus it messes with the faith of a lot of people, because many can't seem to wrap their heads around the idea of a God that has a plan that invites suffering and tragedy.  Tragedy is NOT in God's plan.  None of the garbage of the world was His plan.  So please stop saying that it is.

When God has a plan, I understand that it is not Him that cannot follow through, but rather the fact that the plan can be derailed by unfaithful humans.  I get all that now; I'm okay with it.  But what was bothering me when I was talking to God about this, was that when God outlined His plans in the Bible, they were so solid.  Why not offer the plans with an option of "or else" or "what if" or "just in case?"  He shouldn't always make it sound so solid if He knows that human beings will mess it up, you know?

When God created the earth, He had a plan to have Adam rule the garden, but that plan got messed up by a lying serpent, a doubting woman and a hopeless man.

When God was destroying Sodom & Gomorrah, He had a plan to save Lot and his family.  He even sent angels from heaven to guide them out.  But Lot's son-in-law's doubted and his wife couldn't give it up.

It was God's plan to have Samson lead out in delivering the Israelites from the Philistines, but that deliverance was relatively short-lived because Samson got distracted.

When God anointed Saul as king of the Israelites, His plan was for them to be led by a noble king, and he chose a man of humble character, but power got the better of Saul and he rejected God.

I could literally go on for hours; I've only highlighted a few stories from the beginning of the Bible.  There are stories after stories of God's plans constantly being thwarted by the element of human choice.

When God anoints a person for a special task and says, You will do this; you will lead this nation; you will be king; etc, then He should provide a way for them to be able to accomplish that, shouldn't He?  Why - oh why - would He set aside an individual for a sacred task if He KNOWS they will fall away and not follow through?  What manner of foolishness is this?  How can we trust when God presents a particular plan to us?  Honestly, these questions were really taking a toll on my faith and I wrestled with God about this for quite some time.

Sometimes, in the midst of my arguments with God, thoughts or truths are placed in my heart that provide me with understanding and resolve.  Other times, actual Bible verses are planted in my mind and I look them up to see if they are messages from God's spirit to mine.  And in the middle of this particular fight, Ezekiel 28:14 popped into my brain and I was eager to see what it was all about.

You were anointed as guardian cherub, for so I ordained you.

That verse is apparently referring to Lucifer.  And that just about blew my mind.  I felt like God was offering me a glimpse into a larger struggle.  It's not just human beings that have messed with God's plan, but also His created cherubim, since before the creation of our universe!

When the plan was messed up in Heaven, I imagine there was great confusion and despair because they couldn't imagine how things would ever get made right again.  The perfect, blissful heavenly spaces were devastated over the loss of balance.  And now, all of heaven looks down on us to see if we will remain faithful to The Man or reject Him because He can't seem to command control of His own creation.

If I put my faith in the plan and not the Man, then I'm in for a rude awakening.  How foolish of me to do that.  I know that my life has not gone according to God's plan.  It grieves Him and He has suffered in watching me suffer.  But that doesn't mean He's not with me.

I have an opportunity to restore my faith in Him, and bear a testimony to the universe and say:  No, of course this was not God's plan!  His will is NOT done on this earth yet.  It is our prayer that it should be, but it's not.  His will is only done in heaven right now (according to Jesus' prayer).  But in the meantime, regardless of the twists and turns in the plan, God is faithful to me.  He is my Father and Savior and Friend and Brother and in Him I find my strength and my hope and my joy.  Not in the plan.  Never in the plan.  Always in the Man.

Plus, we all understand that without the element of free-choice, we would not have the opportunity to experience a reciprocal loving relationship with God.  And so it would fare well for us to continue to put our faith in God and not in a perceived plan.

So I've rewritten that little encouraging sentiment so that it reads more accurately.  And hopefully, more people will put their faith in the only sure thing in this world....God and His never-ending love for us.  Please stop telling unsuspecting individuals that it is in God's plan that they suffer and lose their children or their homes or their health or whatever.  That's such a twisted view of God's love and it is hurting His children.  Instead, offer them hope of what is real.

the function of prayer

I just completed an intense 2 1/2 week prayer project and feel an incredible sense of peace.  I thought, when God invited me to pray (see devoted to prayer) that it was for the sake of the other individual.  Like they were somehow in need of some special prayer.  I thought, What's so special about this person?  Are they really that important?  Well, everyone's important and everyone is special and everyone needs and deserves prayer.  But I wonder how many of these prayers were meant for the individual and how many were for me.

For example, partway through the praying project, I suddenly found myself extremely frustrated and disregarded by this person.  It was rather hurtful and I was all ready to assume to understand the reasons behind their actions. I felt inadequate and useless and was pretty sure that if I had addressed the issue with them, it would not have gone well.  Luckily, God and I already had some open communication arranged and I went to Him first.  He soothed my wounded heart and offered me insights that helped me realize that my self-focus was preventing me from seeing the full picture.  One or two conversations with God about it and suddenly I was fine.  No longer frustrated, but more trusting, more patient and more happy.

And that's when I had to laugh and say to God, "This project is not for the other person, is it?  It's for me."  I suppose, in a way, it's for the other person since God working on my heart and my responses means that they will have less to put up with from me.  But I have a strong suspicion that it was me that God was hoping to change.

Throughout this mini-journey, God opened my eyes to errors in my thinking, errors in my actions and even errors in the words I had been speaking.  I was humbled, I was schooled, I was encouraged and I was given hope and direction.

Did the prayers change the other person?  Did they really experience less fear?  Did they find it easier to turn to God for direction?  Were their past pains magically healed?  Did their character improve in the areas in which I prayed?  I have no idea.  This individual doesn't even know I'm praying for them like this.  If they experienced an increase in the presence of the Holy Spirit, they wouldn't know where it came from.

It would be nice if the things I prayed for actually took place.  That would be freaky cool.  But like with any prayer I pray, I understand that God answers them in His time, in His way.  And to expect a particular result would be to limit God's hand and maybe even negatively affect my faith.  So I can't know, for certain (if even ever) if these prayers were answered.

But I can tell you, with conviction, that the prayers were powerful and meaningful and life-changing, for me.

So many people claim that their prayers aren't answered; that they only seem to go up as high as the ceiling. But that's because they're looking for expected outcomes.  I had one person make an observation about my praying relationship with Jesus, recently.  They said, "Well, it didn't do you any good.  You still ended up divorced."

They assumed that God didn't answer my prayers.  But He did.  I didn't even know what I needed or what I wanted; I only knew I needed help.  Was a divorce God's first choice?  Well, of course not.  Most of how the world is functioning is not His first choice.  But God leads people to where they need to be; to where they will be of the most use for His kingdom.

I understand that many have condemned me because of my divorce and have even rejected me as a follower of God because it could never be God's will for someone to be divorced.  I've dealt with my fair share of condemnation.  But that response simultaneously gives me too much credit while also limiting God.  They think that I was solely responsible for the failure of that relationship. Wow.  Thanks for thinking I have so much power, but then again, no thanks.  And then by assuming that a prayer should be answered only one way, they limit God.  How little we understand about His will and His ways.  But how quick we are to assume to know His intentions.

But what if the answers to prayers have nothing to do with the outcomes and everything to do with our hearts?  What if when we prayed we didn't lay out a preset expectation for how God should answer the prayer?  What if we prayed just to talk to God about it?  What if we prayed as a way of sharing our heart and our concerns and our fears and our hopes?  How would that change our faith?

Well, it would make it stronger, obviously.  Because when our prayers weren't answered as we expected, our faith would not come under fire.  The enemy could no longer use that against us. He couldn't taunt us with arguments like, "Well, He didn't answer your prayers.  I guess that means He doesn't love you.  Or it means you are imperfect and He won't listen to you.  Or maybe it means you deserve the bad that happens to you."  Ugh, just disgusting.  I hate how the devil uses unanswered prayers to further weaken our faith in a loving God.

But if we prayed for the sake of relationship, every single prayer would then be answered.

I'm not saying we can't ask God for things and wait expectantly as He prepares to answer them.  We should and we do and God does answer prayers as we expect sometimes.  But the joy of prayer, and the faith that is developed as a result, is in the communication between us and God.

I just wish that the world understood this.  I wish they didn't make judgments about God's involvement in our lives based on expected outcomes.  Because they end up missing SO much in the meantime.  And to miss out on a faith relationship with God would certainly be the most devastating thing.  I don't wish that kind of emptiness on anyone; it's a dark and cold and lonely place to be.  Trust me; I speak from experience.  But the warmth and the love and the hope that surrounds me when I spend time in relationship with Him, that will produce the most results.

So yes, God did answer my prayers about my marriage.  He brought me to a place of understanding and healing and joy and hope that had not existed before.  I have never - in my entire life - experienced more of the presence of God and His joy than when I belonged to Him alone.  But don't think He hasn't grieved the loss of my marriage, as have I.  He just can't force people into His will.  It's just not something He is able to do; goes against His very grain.

And this time too, He has answered my prayers on behalf of this individual for whom I've been praying. They may not have reaped any direct results from the actual prayers, but they have gained a friend that is more committed to God, more sensitive to their needs, more patient with their hang-ups and more dedicated to spreading God's love.

Sounds like a very useful project, after all.  Can't wait to start on the next one...

a good kind of pain

Sometimes I get the feeling that the devil just hates me.  Like he doesn't necessarily have a greater purpose in some of his evil but just the fact that he wants to make my life miserable.  

Take, for example, Christmas Eve.  I had the most wonderful time, experiencing a candlelight service for the first time in my life, singing in a lovely choir for the first time in 22 years, making new friends, delighting in beautiful music and just loving it.  I felt my heart all swelled up with love for God's thoughtfulness in giving me such a beautiful Christmas gift.  And to add to the already joyful moments, I had the chance to experience that same wonderful music program for a second time that evening.  I was so looking forward to it!  

But as soon as we reconvened for the second program, I got sick.  I was sitting in the choir, trying to ignore the sudden onset of this weird illness.  It wasn't something I ate since I had been fasting.  And it wasn't the fasting since I always enjoy a fast and I usually feel a million times better during that time.  It was just pain in my gut and nausea.  Not the flu (because there was no subsequent evidence of that.)  Just miserable, agonizing pain and endless waves of nausea for what appeared to be no other purpose than to try to take my joy away.  I can't imagine any other greater purpose for it.  

I sat there, trying to decide whether I should exit in case I needed to throw up or whether I should just continue to pray that God help me get through the program.  If I was sick, I took the risk of infecting others and I didn't want to do that. But if I wasn't sick, then leaving might impact the presentation of the music.  I decided to wait it out, finished the program and then I bolted for home. I crawled into bed, still in pain, and felt so sorry for myself.  By the next morning, I was 100% again.  No evidence of any illness.  And that just made me mad.

How is it okay for the devil to use me as a punching bag like this?  How do I get God to protect me from these kinds of attacks?  I'm sure God protects me from many of the attacks and it's possible that only a small number get through, so I shouldn't take this out on God.  I'm just trying to gain perspective; that's all.  Like how I'm supposed to respond to stuff like this.  Do I just kind of sit here and take it?  Do I call on a group of prayer warriors to pray on my behalf?  I don't know.  It seems like I should just be able to tolerate some of these attack sessions and not always try to find a way out of them.  It seems like I should be strong enough to sustain them without complaint too, you know?  Kind of like I should let them toughen me up or something.

If there was a greater purpose in these tough times, I would welcome them as I welcome other trials, because we should consider it pure joy...whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  James 1:2-3

I'm actually cool enduring the "trials" and have experienced my fair share with Jesus as my Rock.  But the kind of stuff I'm talking about aren't trials.  They're just annoyances.  Like a pebble in my shoe.  And it's freakishly irritating.

It's like middle school all over again.  When Sarah was cruel to me simply because I was Jenny's friend.  I hadn't done anything to offend Sarah except choose to associate with her enemy.  Her behavior was just evidence of her childishness and not something I should take personally.

So it is in this case.  These little attacks, that the enemy throws my way, have so little to do with me and so much to do with God.  They are the devil's weak attempts at punishing me for loving God and all the gifts He's given to me.  But here's something cool I'm realizing just now: his attempts really are weak compared to God's gifts.  Because during the second Christmas Eve program, I did enjoy it.  In fact, I even went so far as to record the songs on my iPhone during the program, and listen to them again as I lay in my bed that night.  And when I allowed myself to experience His gift again, it was almost like the pain and nausea were irrelevant; they were still present, but they didn't matter.  See what I mean when I say "weak attempt?"  I enjoyed that second concert in spite of the pain because I chose to focus on God's goodness.

The fact that I'm under attack simply because of my association with God actually makes this even more encouraging.  It assures me that my focus is well-placed.

So this is just me trying to process these stupid assaults so that I make sure to keep my perspective in the right place.  Like when I get sore because I worked out too hard.  It's a good kind of pain, you know?  It's like, "Oh yeah, I totally worked these muscles out!"  If it was just pain for no other purpose, it wouldn't be as tolerable.  But knowing that I put myself in some pain for a better outcome is actually okay.  I choose to associate with God and as a result, I will sometimes be the enemy's punching bag.  But I want my perspective to be, "Oh yeah, it's a good kind of pain because I am totally working on my friendship with Jesus."

I'm laughing a bit right now at how silly this is.  I can't believe I'm trying to aim for an attitude like that.  I am strange, aren't I?  But I'll be honest, if I had had this mindset on Christmas Eve, I think I would have enjoyed the second program even more.  And now that I have this approach, I can better handle what I'm experiencing at this moment too.  So it's all good; a blog well-purposed.

for a season

We've all experienced seasonal friendships in our lives, even as early as the adolescent years and summer camp friendships.  In my life, if I knew that someone would be around only for a season, I wouldn't let my heart get too terribly attached so that the goodbye would be easier.  I understand that impeded my ability to really connect with a person, but at least my heart was safe, right?

In fact, I lived most of my adult life that way.  I refused to attach my heart to anyone because it was just easier that way.  When we first moved to Seattle we were with one church for about 12 years, but when it came time to move to a new church for our kids' education, I wasn't too broken up about it.  Sure, I loved the people there, but I was also okay moving on.  I purposely never put down roots in that church, mostly cause I hated living in Seattle and always hoped I'd move.  I made sure all my friendships stayed pretty superficial, actually.

But when I moved to the next church, it was around the same time that I started seeking God on a more intimate level.  Throughout that process, I learned what it meant to actually love.  For the first time in my life, I felt safe enough to actually put down roots and make my new church my home.  The more I sought God, the more love He poured into my heart. And the more love I had, the more I gave away.  The relationships I developed in that place went beyond basic friendships and passed on into the "forever family" zone.  I felt whole for the first time in my life and I couldn't imagine ever leaving the Seattle area; this was my home now.  I learned to experience God and friendships on such a deep and intimate level that I longed for heaven when we could all be one with Jesus all the time.



But if I had known....


....that those friendships were just for a season in my life....



Honestly, I don't think I would have allowed myself to experience those spiritually intimate relationships.  Because the grief I experienced when I lost them all also went beyond anything I had ever experienced in my life.

And I sit here and think that I should not have allowed myself to get so attached or so involved.  I should have put up those walls that I was so good at erecting and stayed a safe distance away from all this awful stuff called love.

I am reflecting on this now because I find myself drawn into loving a new family and I receive joy from experiencing their friendship and their insights.  But suddenly there is a fear in my heart that says, "What if this is just for a season?  Don't get too attached; God may move me at any time again." And I feel a little like a nomad.  Like I won't ever have a place to call home until heaven.  And until then, I am blown to wherever God wants me to go; a servant to serve in whatever capacity He desires.

Okay, so this is a bit of a dramatic response to my history.  Because if I look at it realistically, I've only experienced this "seasonal" thing in that last church.  And yeah, it hurt like hell when it broke, but that shouldn't mean that this is now my destiny, right?

At the same time, though, I can't help but wonder if this is what it's like to be a follower of Jesus.  Because I've only really had an active relationship with Him in the last 5-6 years.  All I know is all I've seen recently.  And all I've seen is deeply committed friendships with Jesus at the center and then a horrific element of loss.  It has taken me almost two years to heal from some of that loss and clearly I'm not entirely restored since fear is still present.

So is this what it's like?  Is this a reasonable fear to live by?  If I wanted to, would I be able to actually stop myself from loving people as God loves them?  No, I don't think I could.  I don't think I even have a choice in the matter.  When I pray for people or see them through God's eyes, I don't really have an option but to bind my heart to theirs.  It seems that the only way to protect my heart from potential further pain of loss, would be to remove Jesus from it first.  Yeah, good luck with that.  Over my dead body.

So I guess that's it then, isn't it?  I have to accept the fact that there will continue to be heart-knit friendships that will be seasonal.

That just seems so wrong.  It seem so hopeless and defeating.  And what I really want is to put down roots and experience the forever love of a family.  Is it foolish to hope for that?  Is it wiser to guard my heart?  Should I always be prepared for the eventuality that nothing is lasting?

Seems like a really cruddy way to live my life and I don't much want to do that.

So then, maybe it's just some prayer that I want and need.  I don't usually use my blog to express my heartfelt fears; I prefer to use it as an avenue for testimony.  But right now, I need strength and resolve to continue down the path on which God has placed me.  And if God wants to offer me some hope that not every spiritual friendship is seasonal, that'd be super great too.


The thing about seasons, though, is that they repeat.  It's a cycle; ongoing, never-stopping.  What does that even mean?  Who knows; I'm tired and I have a miserable head cold.  Maybe I shouldn't try blogging when I'm feeling this way.  Good night.