Queen Bee

I am learning something about slowing down and listening to my heavenly father these days. Sometimes that means ignoring the way others are treating me or reacting to my decisions and getting still in my spirit. I had a dream on what would have been my grandfather's 95th birthday. I don't feel led to share it yet as I feel it was given to me by the Lord and I don't fully understand the meaning of it. I am still praying over it. My grandfather was a godly man. Period. His entire existence, especially for the last forty years of his life, when he was walking in a deeper understanding of the Holy Spirit, was centered on God. What an example. I am just backing up and trying to soak everything I am feeling in prayer. I'm also going to hold it up against the passages of scripture I am reading and make sure my thoughts and feelings are measuring up to the truth of the Bible. Sometimes when we are hurt, especially when it is other Christians who are hurting us, we make emotional choices, not sound, godly ones. I am the queen of that. The absolute queen bee. I would like to step down from that role and become the queen bee of humility (is that an oxymoron?), steadfastness, quietness, peace, and gentleness. (I WANT EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY TO STOP LAUGHING RIGHT NOW. I know the "quietness" and "gentleness" really got you there.)

As the Praise Goes Up

Just after my miscarriage, a Facebook friend in-boxed me the entire lyrics to a song. Today, as I surfed for praise music on YouTube, I happened upon the song and clicked "play." In a second I was thrown back in time to January of this year and the horrific pain that was, just as other people who have endured tragedy have said, so bad it could be felt physically. Wow. Closed that video pretty quickly. But not before understanding and absorbing one thing: Jesus suffered and he understands what I went through. Hit two television programs back-to-back in which the speaker was mentioning the fact that Jesus prayed all night long. I asked God what he was saying to me. I think the key to reconnecting with God, as I am so desperate to do, is prayer. Lots and lots and lots of it. And (as one of the T.V. pastors pointed out this morning) EMPHATHIZING with Jesus, both his victory and his suffering. Look, he was the God of the universe and he was IGNORED and persecuted by the religious leaders of his day. Maybe the fact that certain people don't speak to me at church, even as they pursue religious activities, should not gall me as much as it everlastingly does. If Jesus loved them all, I, under His power, can too. Another key: forgiveness. This one is really, really hard for me. Well, not so much if the person is seeking my forgiveness. What if they not only are not seeking my forgiveness, but are totally indifferent about it? What if they are continuing to offend and the target is one of my children? What then? What makes me different from the rest of the world? The answer lies therein. I know, however, that I cannot achieve this difference on my own. So out comes my Bible, to renew and transform my mind. Next, I WILL spend time in prayer, drawing close to the sweet, sweet presence of Jesus Christ, clinging to his garments, fellowshipping with the precious Holy Spirit. Last, but certainly not least, I will seek out praise and worship music to regularly feed my soul with the words that lift up my Lord, feeling Him enter my home as the praise goes up.

A Certain Healing

I believe in prayer for physical healing. You tell me you have cancer, I pray for complete healing. Jesus never turned anyone away. All who came to him for physical healing were restored completely. It is biblical to pray for healing. I understand that sometimes the physical healing does not come, but I still feel it is appropriate to petition the Father for it. I also believe that things happen when you pray that won't happen if you don't. Miracles of all kinds.

While, for reasons only understood by God (who I wisely give wide latitude to be God), some physical ailments are not healed, and some people are called home to heaven at a time that seems early to those with an earthly perspective, there is a certain kind of healing that is guaranteed to every believer.

I firmly believe that it is the absolute birthright (or re-birthright, as it were) of every believer in Jesus Christ to enjoy full, absolute emotional, spiritual and mental healing. A right mind is the product of the healing touch of Christ upon our flawed flesh in a fallen world. The peace that passes understanding comes from Him, and can radiate into all of our circumstances, transforming our daily lives and bathing us in a beautiful, whole and healthy pure light that all can see. When those of us who are prone to depression and anxiety return again and again to the well of comfort and wisdom in the Bible and the steadfast anchor of the presence of the Holy Spirit, we react with hope and faith to circumstances that used to make us crumble. We CAN enjoy our lives, despite what the enemy of our souls would have us to believe. Sometimes I fall back into the arms of God when something comes up to make me anxious, remembering that He is my heavenly Father, and I can trust Him to work out every detail. He is a protective, loving, caring, grace-filled (gives us what we haven't earned) parent whose love for us far surpasses anything our minds can understand. We can trust Him. "The Lord directs our steps, so why try to understand everything along the way?" (Proverbs 20:24, NLT)

Crazy Weird

Sometimes life feels like a crazy, weird journey. Just yesterday I was forcing two-year-old Matthew away from me, removing him like a clinging, caterwauling kitten as I dropped him off in the church nursery. Today he arranged, mafia style, by use of the phone I AM PAYING FOR to get everyone a ride to and from football practice in a way that would cut me and my scratched-up Impala completely out of the picture. I guess I embarrass him. Pardon me as I completely resist the urge to morph myself into a cool mom. I'm just gonna go ahead and be the same old latch-hooking me. Every single day it becomes abundantly ever more crystalline that I must move ahead into the second half of my life. I would like to embrace it, as it were. All of that wonderful freedom (read lonliness). All of that glorious silence while the kids are at their activities (read barren stillness). Oh, heavens, it's coming anyway, whether I want it to or not. I suppose it is time for me to take another look at me. What do I want from the next four decades? What would I like to contribute? Who would I like to get to know? What old friendships would I like to strengthen? What is my identity now that my children are batting their little wings around, trying to hop up off of the familial perch? When they were small I used to (don't laugh now) imagine that I would raise dachshunds once they were no longer careening back and forth between clinging to me for dear life and toddling off to fall down the stairs lest I hold their hands at all times. I actually believed that I would have a thriving kennel with every dachshund color in the dachshund rainbow. I saw myself handing care packages to satisfied new owners, their puppies sporting tiny bows. I guess I figured the purchase of a low-slung 70s era rancher with three acres and an air-conditioned kennel out back that would house the generations of champions I would produce from my award-winning stock was somewhere in my unsuspecting husband's future. I am in a cul-de-sac in a tidy neighborhood in Franklin, TN. I have one-third of an acre. I have only one dachshund. Not very close to that goal. I also imagined that book after majestic, best-selling book would issue forth from my computer. I would be so busy, what with the book-signings and new litters of glistening puppies, I would be fine, just fine, thank you, if my children had a mind to neglect me. To be continued.

Pride and the Slip-N-Slide

Yesterday I walked the tiny, narrow, hard-to-see line between taking up for myself and falling into pride. Pride is aptly named because it is a pit filled with demons behaving like a pride of lions. It will eat you alive, shredding all of the spiritual fruit off of your bones. It occurs to me that when I turn and look at something I have done for God, or, heaven forbid, stop to gauge how others are reacting to it, it de-materializes before my eyes. God does not share his glory with mere human beings. Anything I do for God must be done with a pure heart. I can't manufacture that purity, but I CAN call on God for cleansing and renewal of right motivation. "I am counting on the Lord; yes, I am counting on him. I have put my hope in his word." (Psalm 130:5) "People may be pure in their own eyes, but the Lord examines their motives." (Proverbs 16:2) Yesterday I was walking dogs with my youngest, Jonathan, at the humane society. The animals there remind me of the human race, lots of variation in appearance and personality. Some follow willingly on the lead, others wander a bit, distracted by everything around them. Still others jump on us, happy to be alive, out of their kennels and in the presence of someone who will love them. There is the occasional dog that will fight the leash altogether, writhing on the ground, biting at it. Some will lay down resolutely as we tug and cajole. It's a picture of how we walk with God. May I learn to patiently heel! I don't want to miss out on the journey, or stick my nose in an ant bed while my heavenly Father lovingly steers me clear of such disaster. While we walked I silently prayed that my efforts that day would be fruitful, not frustrating. I felt perfectly comfortable believing God for that as He has not designed us for failure and defeat, but for productivity and prosperity along the lines of His perfect plans for our individual lives. "Commit your actions to the Lord, and your plans will succeed." Proverbs 16:3 May I walk confidently forward today, hand-in-hand with the Lord, knowing that, as my friend Emmanuel Chekwa once said, He will even annoint my failures as long as my heart is turned toward Him.

Lighthouse

At some point in my foggy past I came across a poster of an interesting photo. I was probably mindlessly drilling through a display at a store like Hobby Lobby, my thoughts miles away from whatever strip mall I stood in. And there it was: a stony lighthouse with a tiny human figure standing in a doorway. The entire backside of the lighthouse was engulfed in a massive wave that curled itself around the structure. The image was arresting to me because it reminded me of how God holds us, unwaveringly, in the midst of life's storms. Even the storms we stir up ourselves with our ingrained sins and self-destructive missions powered by obsessions even we do not understand. I enjoyed an object lesson in this grace-fueled love and care only yesterday. A few weeks ago I snapped up a plaque at a neighbor's yard sale with this very photo on it. Underneath the photo, Psalm 94:22 is inscribed. "But the Lord has become my fortress, and my God the rock in whom I take refuge." The owner had passed away, the plaque a gift given by friends upon the owner's cancer diagnosis, a disease which claimed his life. I took the slightly banged-up prize home and hung it on my bedroom wall. This year has been particularly hard for me. Yesterday I found myself simply begging God as I wound my way down the blistering hot pavement of a sweltering Franklin, Tennessee en route back home from an auspicious errand to Wal-Mart. "Please, please help me," I implored through my tears. I just needed peace, a break from unrelenting fears for my children, my husband, everything that I hold dear. I had been home for mere minutes when I found myself pulling out a bookmark that my youngest, Jonathan, had given me after church. The bookmark had all of the names of the kids, including himself, who are participating in a home missions project this week. The idea was for church members to see the bookmark and pray for each one this week. There was a small photo at the very top of the bookmark. You guessed it. It was the photo of the lighthouse with the massive wave assaulting it. I felt loved and reassured to my core!

Defined by the Cross

Our failures, losses, broken relationships and missteps do not define us. What this means is that we are free to move forward in the light of God's love and in the assurance of Christ's complete work on the cross to enjoy our lives, come what may. The only thing that truly matters cannot be stripped away from us, that being the intimate fellowship with our heavenly Father that feeds our souls and makes us aware that we are of infinite value. I take great comfort in the fact that every human being has a unique fingerprint. This underscores for me the idea that God sees EVERY single one of us as individuals. Why would I spend one moment working for the approval of people? "I, yes I, am the one who comforts you. So why are you afraid of mere humans, who wither like the grass and disappear? Yet you have forgotten the Lord, your Creator, the one who stretched out the sky like a canopy and laid the foundations of the earth. Will you remain in constant dread of human oppressors? Will you continue to fear the anger of your enemies?" (Isaiah 51:12-13, NLT) I have found that if I can shed the fear of human disapproval, I am free to pursue God's will for my life clothed in a peace that truly does pass understanding, as the scripture describes. All throughout my adult life, Satan has tormented me with the thought that I was absolutely unworthy to serve God. He has always told me that if others were to find out about my past sins, my present struggles, my overarching weaknesses (self-discipline is like an iron tower that I have to pray my way over), I would be discounted as a soldier in God's army. During one period of amazing spiritual growth I short-circuited Satan's relentless attacks in this arena by saying to myself, again and again "If all God tells me to do is stand still and love Him, I will do it." The point is for me to submit to Him.