Walk Worthy

A Way Out

2011-07-14T10:17:00.002-05:00

If you think you are standing strong, be careful, for you, too, may fall into the same sin. 1 Corinthians 10:12

In the last 24 hours I’ve discovered three of my mentees have fallen victim to the trap of sexual sin. Good, God fearing girls, leaders among their peers, respected young women. Girls who are strong in their faith now having to confess, repent, and suffer the consequences of their choices.

It breaks my heart. Not because I’m disappointed in them or angry with them, but because I know that all sin leads to death. Maybe not a literal death but a death of innocence, a death of dreams, a death of influence. When we choose to play with sin we will be burned.

I’m so thankful that two out of the three confessed. They want to be healed. And I’m learning that confession is tied to our healing. We need more of this in the church. More confession. We need to be people that are safe to confess to. We need to be people that are humble enough to confess to someone else.

But there needs to be more. I’m tired of the cycle of temptation, sin, and confession. I want to live in freedom. Freedom from sin. I want to live in obedience. To desire to do God’s will above all else. It is only the heart that is fully submitted to obedience that will ever be able to live in freedom.

It is possible. Not easy, but possible. Actually, by man’s strength it’s impossible. But thankfully He doesn’t ask us to be holy by our own strength alone.

But remember that the temptations that come into your life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will keep the temptation from becoming so strong that you can’t stand up against it. When you are tempted, He will show you a way out so that you will not give in to it. 1 Corinthians 10:13

God will not allow us to be tempted to the degree that we can’t stand against us. Good news that hurts. Good news because it means He is always faithful, always waiting to rescue us. It hurts because it means that every time I give in to sin it’s because I chose my own selfish desire over God’s way out.

In The Pursuit of Holiness Jerry Bridges writes, “We often say, ‘God hates the sin but loves the sinner’. This is blessedly true, but too often we quickly rush over the first half of this statement to get to the second. We cannot escape the fact that God hates sin. We may trifle with our sins or excuse them, but God hates them. Therefore every time we sin, we are doing something God hates. He hates our lustful thoughts, our pride and jealousy, our outbursts of temper, and our rationalizations that the end justifies the means. We need to be gripped by the fact that God hates all these things. We become so accustomed to our sins we sometimes lapse into a state of peaceful coexistence with them, but God never ceases to hate them.”

This world tells us that we should be able to do what we want when we want. It tells us to gratify all of our desires, encourages us to do so. But we are not supposed to be of this world. We are supposed to be set apart, a people holy unto the Lord. Urged by God to abstain from sinful desires so that He will be glorified.

Father, thank you for being faithful. For providing a way out when we are tempted. Help us to see the way of escape and choose it every time we face temptation. Help us to choose You! To say yes to You and no to sin. Help us to be Your holy people, set apart, free from sin, and fully obedient to You.

Do You Love the World?

2011-07-13T12:38:00.003-05:00

One thing I miss about being a Children’s Pastor is teaching kids to memorize God’s Word. I have to confess, I’m terrible at memorizing anything, especially scripture. So teaching the kids memory verses helped me memorize them too. Our lead Children’s Pastor had the most amazing way of creating fun ways to memorize scripture and one of my favorite verses we taught the kids was 1 John 2:15 “Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.” I wish I could let you see and hear the dramatic way we would say this verse together.

Last week I was able to get away for an extended prayer retreat and spend a lot of my time meditating on a few verses, prayerfully asking God about how He wanted to apply His word to my heart. This is one of the verses that took center stage during that time. But I continued on to verse 16 “For everything in the world—the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does—comes not from the Father, but from the world”.

Cravings

Lust

Boasting

Three things that will separate us from God’s love.

It’s easy as a long time follower of Jesus to skim through a list of sins that God despises and think we’re okay. But when I really took the time to think about these three things, I realized that I am overwhelmingly guilty.

The New Testament Greek Lexicon offers the following definitions:

Cravings-greed, destructive longing

Lust- desire for what is forbidden

Boasting- empty, braggart talk that trusts in its own power

I don’t know about you but I crave food for comfort, new shoes for a pick-me-up, I’m greedy for comfortable surroundings and abundance. I lust after getting my way; I long for approval, and pats on the back. And boasting? Well, one look at my Facebook page would confirm my continual boasting. My empty braggart talk.

God says if we love these things then His love is not in us. Why is that do you suppose?

Maybe because craving, lust, and boasting takes our eyes off of Jesus and puts them elsewhere. If I’m having a bad day I should turn to God’s word not brownies or a BOGO sale at my favorite shoe store to fill me up. If I’m feeling rejected and unloved my heart should seek out time in His presence not empty words from man. And if I’m going to dare to open my mouth to boast… why on earth would I choose to boast of myself when the only thing that’s good in me is Jesus?

When I choose the things of this world I fill my heart up with my wicked craving, lust, and boasting leaving no room for the love of God to fill my heart.

God wants us to be holy, just as He is holy. Yet, I live my life making excuses for my sin. Calling it “social media” instead of boasting. Or the new shoes a “treat” instead of greed. Don’t get me wrong. You’ll never hear me say Facebook or shopping is wrong. It’s my heart that’s wrong. Full of greed and in desperate need of God.

I want to be more desperate for Him than anything else this world could ever offer.

Lord, change my heart. Make me more like you!

“Now, little children, abide in Him, so that when He appears, we may have confidence and not shrink away from Him in shame at His coming. If you know that He is righteous, you know that everyone also who practices righteousness is born of Him. 1 John 2: 28-29

Quiet

2011-07-06T14:07:00.000-05:00

Psalm 46 gives an account of a season of trouble. It’s filled with words that communicate dire conditions.

…earth give way… mountains fall into the sea… waters roar… mountains quake… nations in uproar… kingdoms fall… earth melts… desolations…

And at the end of this description of suffering the Lord speaks “Be still and know that I am God”.

Be still? Be still in the midst of trouble and desolation? Be still in the midst of raging war and devastation? How do you be still when the world around you is crumbling?

Maybe the question isn’t how but why? Why be still? Why not run? Or hide? Or fight?

Pay attention to what I say; listen closely to my words. Prov. 4:20

God tells us to be still so that we can hear His instruction to us. Daily we are surrounded by trouble, maybe not “mountains falling into the sea” or “earth melting” but mountains of bills, laundry and deadlines. The kids have meltdowns, or make choices that cause us to meltdown! Daily we are faced with decision after decision that must be made. How do we know what we should do?

Generally speaking I stress over the bills, complain about the laundry, work frantically to meet the deadlines. I yell at the kids then cry about yelling at them. And at the end of the day I fall in bed exhausted dreading the alarm signaling the start of one more day of madness.

I read about being still and then look at the swirling chaos around me and wonderer… how?

In the New American Standard “be still” is translated “cease striving”. In the midst of this crazy life God’s wants us to cease striving, to be still. He longs to speak peace into our chaotic world. He wants to whisper wisdom into our question heart. He desires to speak words of comfort to our tired souls. But the swirling, tumbling noise of our lives drowns out the still quite voice of the almighty God who speaks in a still small voice.

“I have stilled and quieted my soul.” Psalm 131:2

I have stilled and quieted. Through a decision I choose stillness. Through an act of my will I chose quiet.

I spent this past weekend at the Monastery in search of quiet. In the hushed sanctuary of the chapel and on the banks of the quiet pond my heart was stilled and His voice became clear.

Sadly I can’t spend every weekend in the quiet safety of the Monastery. But I can spend at least a moment with a still and quiet soul. I can find at least a brief minute to turn off the phone and let the email go unchecked.

My heart yearns to hear Him. I am desperate to know His will. And so we have to be purposeful about being still. We can’t expect our calendars to magically clear or our kids to spontaneously be quiet. But we can create time to take a moment to sit. To listen. To know.

In the midst of this chaotic life I have stilled and quieted my soul… so I can hear the voice of God.

Uncontainable

2011-06-22T09:26:00.003-05:00

One of the most traumatic experiences of my childhood was when Toto pulled back the emerald green curtain to reveal that the “Great and Powerful Oz” was nothing more than an ordinary man from Kansas with an elaborate special effects system. My heart sank when I realized that the Wizard had no real power and it was all just a façade.

As I got older I became a theater junkie. I was in the drama club in high school and spent lots of time behind the curtain. I loved seeing how a false reality could be created for the stage. Even now I find myself looking for wires and screens. Whether I’m at an off Broadway production in a theatre, a conference in a convention hall, or a concert in an arena I spend as much time looking for the illusions as I do watching the actual performance. Because I know… you just can’t believe everything you see.

I’ve unconsciously lived for years believing that most of life is like the stage. Very limited in what can be created and that what is seen is not necessarily what is real.

I’ve even been guilty of thinking that God is just like the Wizard of Oz. Pretty impressive but still just a man behind a curtain, limited by what He can do.

I don’t think it’s entirely my fault that I try to contain God. I think it’s just the reality of our human nature and our limited ability to be able to comprehend who God really is.

We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled. We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us! 1 Cor. 13:9-10,12 The Message

Our minds simply can’t comprehend all there is to know about God.

And I supposed that if all the other things Jesus did were written down, the whole world could not contain the books. John 21:25

Our God is simply uncontainable.

The heavens, even the highest heaven, cannot contain you. 1 Kings 8:27

Yet contain Him is exactly what we try to do. We try to wrap our minds around who He is and what He can do. We make statements about His character and His ways like we know His thoughts.

We look at a situation and deem it hopeless. We look at a circumstance and declare that it is unchangeable. We look at person and proclaim that they are too far gone. While deep in our hearts wishing that the man behind the curtain really was a Wizard.

We’ve been conditioned to believe that “Happily ever after” is simply the stuff of fairy tales. And that “All Powerful Beings” are resigned to movie screens. But the God we serve is not constrained by stories and scripts. He is not limited by time or space or imagination.

He is uncontainable.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts. Isa. 54:9

Whatever we think about God, He is more! More loving and powerful and just and holy and big and grand. He is unfathomable! We just can’t wrap our minds around Him.

No matter how hard I look, I simply cannot find the wires, screens or effects. I’ve searched behind the curtain and have yet to find any illusion or pretense with God. He simply is who He says He is. The Alpha and Omega. Creator and Sustainer of all.

The uncontainable God.

Happy are Those That Mourn

2011-05-27T17:34:00.001-05:00

Happy are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Mat. 5:4

I ran across this verse earlier this week studying for my Sunday School class. I have to confess, it’s caused me to pause and ponder for days now.

Happy are those that mourn?

How does that even begin to make sense? Isn’t’ the whole point of mourning the absence of happiness?

Will you join me at Broken Girl for the rest of the story?

Empty

2011-05-19T14:23:00.001-05:00

Empty- adjective- containing nothing; having none of the usual or appropriate contents

“Hi, my name is Keri and I am empty.”

This is the declaimer that I wish I could say out loud when I meet someone these days. It would save us both a lot of trouble; me the trouble of having to act like I’m all good, them the trouble of trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.

There’s nothing “wrong” I’m just empty. I have none of the “usual or appropriate contents”. Oh, there are contents, just not appropriate ones. Where there should be peace, there is anger. Where there should be trust, there is worry. Where there should be faith, there is doubt.

I am empty.

Life, circumstances, trials, let downs… all have piled up and left me emptied of me. I feel poured out. Dried up. Out of control. With nothing left to give.

The reality is I’m legitimately not feeling good. My doctor ~~has~~ had (I threw it away yesterday) me on medication that is turning me into a raging hormonal lunatic (literally). Yet in spite of the fact that I have medically documented reasons for feeling out of control I still wrestle with guilt. I still believe that regardless I should be able to suck it up and carry on as if nothing is wrong.

But the simple truth is… that’s a lie!

I am not OK.

I am empty.

And that is OK.

It’s OK that I don’t have it all together. It’s OK that I might cry if you ask me how I am. It’s OK that I need extra sleep, or a day off of work, or a hug. It’s OK that my dishes are piling up and my kids ate sandwiches for dinner.

It’s OK.

I am weak, and tired, and frustrated, and worried, and empty.

But the crazy thing is… when I let down my guard, when I let people see the empty, needy, hurting part of me, when I confess my weakness I am not judged. Instead I am loved. Overwhelmingly, unconditionally loved.

It’s as if my transparency opens the door for love to poor in and fill up my empty heart.

I have never felt so empty.

I have never felt so loved.

Can I ask you today… How are you? Are you empty? Are you trying to pretend like everything is all right when really inside you just feel dry? It’s OK. It really is OK if you are hurting and in need. You’re sisters are here to love you. Overwhelmingly and unconditionally. Can we love you today?

Disappointment and Longing

2011-04-25T17:37:00.002-05:00

The last forty days I have purposefully cut out distractions (TV, books, social media) in order to focus more time and attention on God’s Word and prepare my heart for Easter. As I have quieted my heart I have felt an awakening in my soul. A longing for more of Him.

This weekend was the culmination of my Lenten season and I was so looking forward to Easter Sunday worship. As we pulled out of the church parking lot only one word came to mind to describe my feelings about Easter worship… disappointment. Don’t get me wrong, we attend an amazing church filled with people who genuinely love the Lord. I don’t think it was the church’s fault I felt disappointed. In two decades of following Jesus I can’t think of one Easter service that I’ve attended and left feeling satisfied.

Easter morning I couldn’t stop thinking of Johnny the Brave, a sweet 8 year old boy with an inoperable brain tumor who got to go Home last Thursday. Johnny got to spend Easter Sunday worshiping at the very throne of God. And I have a feeling no one standing in Jesus’ presence with Johnny felt disappointment.

When I think of Johnny worshiping at the feet of Jesus and me stuck here in this fallen world where sin and suffering reigns I realize why my heart longs for more. It’s not better songs, or more compelling music, or deeper sermons that my heart aches for. It’s HIM! His face, His voice, His presence.

“But our citizenship is in Heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.” Philippians 3:20

In the heart of every child of God is a longing that this world can’t satisfy. Every joy that causes our heart to swell is a foretaste of eternal glory. And every hurt that causes our heart to ache is a reminder of a coming day that will be free from sorrow.

Yet, instead of embracing the longing for our eternal home we distract ourselves with earthly entertainment. Filling our days with diversions to keep our minds occupied with anything other than Him.

Which leaves me with the question, what am I to do now? After forty days of purposefully quieting my life to listen to Him can I go back to the way things were? I could. Easily. But I don’t want to. Don’t get me wrong, I want to resume my routine of sitting on the couch with my popcorn and remote control. But not at the expense of losing this longing in my heart. Not if resuming the noise of life brings about the quieting of His voice.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jer. 29:13

If I seek Him with all of my heart I will find Him. Not with a divided heart, but with my whole heart. And that is my greatest desire, to find Him. To see Him face to face. But until that day comes I want to spend my time here seeking Him. I want to embrace the longing in my heart for Home, and not allow myself to be distracted any longer by the things of this world.

What a day that will be,

When my Jesus I shall see,

And I look upon His face,

The One who saved me by His grace;

When He takes me by the hand,

And leads me through the Promised Land,

What a day, glorious day that will be.

This Is What Dreams Are Made Of

2011-04-18T12:16:00.005-05:00

If I had to sum up the last 60 days of my life I’d have to go with “roller coaster”. I’ve traveled through the depths of despair, to the highest mountain top, and back several times. Our family has got to be one of the healthiest families I know, but 2011 has been filled with illness for us. And not just passing around the cold or flu bug, this has been more of the visiting hospitals and running test kind of stuff, which makes a momma’s heart tired. I’ve been stretched to trust Jesus like I never have before. And in the midst of this intense period of suffering there have been overwhelming blessings as well. Dreams that I’ve hidden in my heart for years have come true.

Like this one. There in the middle of that beautiful group of ladies is Beth Moore, my hero. And on the very left is my smiling face hugging my dear friend’s neck. Yep. I finally got to meet Ms. Beth. And I’m overjoyed. We had a 3 minute conversation that will be permanently etched in my memory, and she spoke words over me that I have asked God about for years, confirming the very secret desires of my heart. And yes, she really is that cute and sweet in person.

Then there’s the real God-Sized Dream come true. My first book. {pinch me please!}

I remember when I was 10 years old and moved from St. Louis to Arkansas. My heart was broken because I was leaving my sweet Noni. She promised that we would write each other. And we did. I wrote her letters and short stories and poems. And she read every word, telling me over and over again that I should be a writer one day when I was all grown up. Several years ago I stood in the ICU holding her hand and we had our last conversation. I did all the talking. She was in a coma, but I’m pretty sure she heard me. I told her that I was going to take her advice and write a book one day. I promised her that I would. When I held this book in my hands for the first time I thought of my dearly missed grandma and how proud she would be of me.

And... my amazing friend Jennifer and I are also in process of setting up a new blog community. It's a place for those who's lives are broken, tattered, beautiful, or anywhere in between. {it's a work in progress, so patience please! :o)}

All this has me thinking about dreams, and how many times along the way I’ve wanted to just throw in the towel. It’s hard stuff, chasing dreams. Especially big God-Sized dreams. I get so tired sometimes, and I can very easily convince myself that it’s just not worth all the sweat and tears.

One of the things that Beth Moore talked about this weekend was how at the end of Paul’s life he said, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith”. Paul had an assignment from God, and he faithfully lived his life chasing that assignment. At the end he finished well. I don’t want to live with regrets. I want to run my race well. I want to chase the dreams God’s placed in my heart. It may be hard, there may be suffering involved, but it is so worth it!

Are you chasing your dreams?

Refiners Fire

2011-04-13T08:51:00.004-05:00

I think we would all say that we’d like our lives to reflect the goodness of God. I don’t know about you, but I find myself guilty of wanting that reflection to involve my life actually being “good”. For me God’s goodness means that I’m happy, everyone’s healthy, and all the bills are paid with some left over.

When things start to go wrong I pull back, shut down, run and hide. I question God. Why would He allow suffering to come into my life? Doesn’t He know that I want my life to be a reflection of His goodness? And how can people think that God is good if my life is bad?

Doesn’t God want me to be happy?

The truth is He doesn’t. He cares a lot more about my soul learning to trust Him than He does about me being “happy”. And so, He allows suffering.

I often get asked “How can you know if this is a test from God or a trial from Satan”? I’ve wrestled with that thought myself. Often asking God “is this from you or the enemy”? But now I wonder if that even matters.

Job suffered because of Satan’s attack on his life. But before he attacked he got permission from God. Peter was sifted by Satan and denied Christ. But before he was, Satan asked God for permission. Paul’s thorn in the flesh was left there by a God who wanted to keep him humble. Abraham’s faith was tested by God.

Trials from Satan or testing from God the goal is the same, to strengthen our faith. It’s about us coming to a place of surrender and trust in the midst of suffering. And when we come to that point, that’s when God’s glory is revealed in us.

It’s easy to talk about suffering well for God’s glory. It’s another thing to actually do it. It’s one thing to read passages like 1 Peter 1:6-7

“So be truly glad! There is wonderful joy ahead, even though it is necessary for you to endure many trials for a while. These trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold -- and your faith is far more precious to God than mere gold. So if your faith remains strong after being tried by fiery trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.”

It’s another thing to truly be glad when trials come. When the doctor’s report isn’t good, when the bank account is empty, when your kids are suffering can we trust God then?

Well, that’s where I’m at right now. And I have to admit that there’s been very few cheerful moments. In fact, there have been lots of tears, and questions. But at the end of the day, the cry of my heart is still the same… that my life would reflect the goodness of God. Even here. Even now.

Plowing Season

2011-04-07T05:58:00.002-05:00

It's Spring. Planting season. Time to break up the fallow ground and prepare soil for seed. I love the smell of freshly turned soil and the feel of dirt under my fingernails. It's hard work sometimes. Especially after a hard winter when the ground hunkers down on itself in hopes of holding off the bitter cold. But it's worth the effort required to break up and turn over the cold barren earth. It's the only chance of having anything grow.

It's a bit of a different story when you no longer find yourself in the position of the gardener, spade in hand, but instead realize you've become the soil. Barren and packed down. Hardened by the winter's harsh chill. No longer in control of the plowing but now having to yield to the Master Gardner's plan.

It's painful stuff, being plowed. And sometimes I question the Hand holding the plow. Because I so often forget... the tilling isn't for pain, but for fruit. The spade piercing the dirt and turning everything upside down isn't for chaos, but for growth.

And so, instead of questioning the Gardner as to why He's plowing me, I have another question for Him...

God, what do You want to plant in me?

Because I have a feeling whatever He chooses to plant will be beautiful. And that beauty will be worth this pain.

"Sow for yourselves righteousness; reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground, for it is time to seek the Lord, till He comes and rains righteousness on you." Hosea 10:12

Clean Hands

2011-03-25T00:36:00.002-05:00

At the end of David’s reign as King he gathers the people together to commission his son Solomon to take his place as King of Israel. He also charges Solomon to build a dwelling place for the Lord. David had spent years gathering together gold, bronze, and cedar in preparation of the building of the Temple, and now the time has come. He asks the people if they too will give to make a house for God. And they do. In abundance.

As David sees the generosity of the people he bows his head and prays a beautiful prayer of thanks to God. And there, in the midst of his prayer is one line that won’t leave my mind.

“I know, my God, that you test the heart and are pleased with integrity.” 1 Chron. 29:9-10

Lately I’ve noticed a trend. In America. In the church. We are obsessed with controlling behavior. We live and die by a list of rules. Behavior modification controls our every waking moments. As followers of Christ we are bombarded with lists of dos and don’ts.

Don’t get me wrong, rules can be good. God has a list of rules Himself, and I’m pretty sure He wants us to follow them.

But it’s not ultimately about following rules. I know plenty of people who’ve never committed murder, adultery, or stolen anything. Yet that doesn’t mean they have integrity. That doesn’t mean their heart is pure.

In Psalm 24 David asks the question “Who may ascend the hill of the Lord? Who may stand in His holy place?” Is it those who “follow the rules”? No, it is those with “clean hands and a pure heart.” It is those who walk in integrity.

Proverbs 23:7 says “As a man thinks in his heart, so is he.”

It is our heart, not our hands that is our problem. If we want integrity, if we want clean hands, then we must first have a pure heart.

So, why do we spend so much time trying to control behavior if the problem lies in our hearts? Putting a password on our computer will not control our lustful desires. Pouring out the alcohol will not rid us of our longing to self-medicate. And biting our tongue will not rid our hearts of selfishness and pride.

The problem lies in the heart. So what do we do? How do we cultivate a pure heart? Psalm 24 continues “Such is the generation of those who seek Him, who seek your face O God of Jacob”

Pure hearts are birthed in those who seek Him. Who are persistent in getting ahold of Him. Who, like Jacob will wrestle through the darkest of nights and hold on to God at the expense of all else.

David was intimately acquainted with God. He knew that God tested the hearts of man. He also knew what God hoped to find, integrity.

Thousands of years ago David hoped that through his integrity and through the integrity of his son they might build a Temple that God would be pleased to inhabit. And now, here, today, God is looking for another Temple He can dwell in. The temple of our hearts.

So long, farewell...

2011-03-09T06:00:00.004-06:00

I tend to be a bit slow on the uptake most of the time. Thankfully God is over-the-top patient with me and keeps sending the same message over and over and over until I get it.

Well, I got it. And me getting it means saying goodbye to you, my friend. Oh don't worry it's not forever, and it's not really goodbye even. Just goodbye in our electronic form of communicating.

For several years now (I told you I was slow) I've had the inkling of a thought of going without books, TV, facebook, etc. for a season and limiting all input from the Bible ONLY. I've always been too stubborn to actually do it. And honestly the thought makes me break out in hives and sweat a bit.

But today it was clear. I'm stressed, overwhelmed with lingering illness in our home, work stuff, deadlines... and on and on. I'm desperate for peace. Yet I fill my life with noise. Could it be possible to hit mute? To silence all the other voices and spend a season listening to Him and Him only? I plan to try.

Today marks the beginning of Lent. Forty days of anticipating Resurrection morning. Forty days of reflection on the Cross and the empty Tomb. Can I prepare my heart in quiet?

To be honest, I don't know that I can do this. I'm an information junkie!!! I'm physically attached to my iPhone. My DVR is one of my closest friends. I have lots of friends in ministry and love listening to their podcasts. For Pete's sake, I work in radio! But it's time. It's time to stop the madness and purposefully focus my heart on Him.

A wise friend wrote an amazing post yesterday that was the proverbially straw that broke this camel's back. If you have a few minutes it would be worth your time to read.

And now... I bid you adieu... Until Easter morn.

The Rose

2011-03-08T07:35:00.004-06:00

My left hand holds a tiny crimson bud. Tightly closed, petals wrapped in and on each other. Glorious scarlet bursting forth into life. Sweet & fragrant in my hand.

“Innocent as a rose” The metaphor repeats through the ages of time.

Innocent and Pure.

But what of innocence stolen? What of beauty marred? Of purity defiled? What, when the thorn pierces flesh and causes crimson blood to spill? What then?

The rose crushed and bruised. Broken by the grasp of evil. Plucked too soon. No longer destined to open, spread petals, releasing fragrance and beauty and pollen and life. A rose plucked, drying, shriveling, shrinking in slow death.

Can the rose be restored? Can she be reattached, unbruised?

“I am the vine, and you are the branches” He whispers to my soul. But what of branches severed? What of innocence cut off, cast aside, trampled underfoot?

Who would want the dying plucked rose?

“And if they do not persist in unbelief, they will be grafted in

for God is able to graft them in again.” Romans 11:25

There is One. The Gardner, skilled at making things grow. He wants the severed rose. Longs for her even. He wants her not for the ash heap, but for life and beauty. He wants to cut the vine, mar the healthy and slip in the broken. Bind it up with tape and water. He cuts open the vine and binds life to death, transfusing Himself into that which was cast off.

And she heals.

And she grows.

And she opens up.

Releases her fragrance, pollenates her world.

He cuts the vine… He cuts the vine…

Father, graft me into You. I don’t want to be cut off, tightly closed in on myself. I want to blossom. Open up. Shine. I have persisted in unbelief. Forgive my foolish, faithless heart that has believed that You can’t heal the severed rose. Place me in the vine! Thank You for allowing Yourself to be broken so that I can be healed.

Greatly Shaken

2011-02-28T11:02:00.001-06:00

The last seven days have been a roller coaster ride for our family. Monday night I took my son to the ER. He had been sick with a virus for about a week and I was worried he was dehydrated. He was. They started him on fluids but when he didn’t improve they decided to run a few more tests.

I knew before they came in to tell me. Call it mothers intuition, or the grace of God, but I knew that my faith would be stretched before they gave us the test results. When the doctor came in to tell us they wanted to transfer us to Arkansas Children’s Hospital to meet with a pediatric neurologist and oncologist I was uncharacteristically at peace. A verse I had memorized years ago flooded my mind and stayed with me for days.

He only is my rock, my salvation, my stronghold. I shall not be greatly shaken. Ps. 62:6

In that moment, facing the unknown I had to decide. Is God good or not? Could I trust Him with my son? Could I trust that whatever the outcome, He knew what He was doing.

The answer, without hesitation is YES! God is good. And He loves me. And whatever circumstances I face that reality will not change.

Not that my resolve was unwavering. The mind is a terrible thing that can vividly imagine the worst possible outcomes, especially when mixed with sleep deprivation. Minute by minute I had to take my thoughts captive and choose to trust. But He is so gracious, and so kind. And so very near to those who call on Him. And He was there with us in that hospital. He never left our side.

We were transferred to ACH (which is beyond amazing, by the way). More tests, more waiting. There are about 5 really scary things that could have been life altering for us. Thankfully none of those were the cause. After 24 hours at Children’s the doctors started talking about sending us home. With very little medical intervention Joshua’s body began to return to normal.

I told the doctors he had a lot of people praying for him. They just looked at me like I was crazy! I am! So is the God I serve! :o)

We are home now. Trying to return to “normal” whatever that is. Joshua is getting better every day. And I’m so thankful.

So many of you have prayed for him. I can’t tell you how thankful we are for your prayers. God heard, and has graciously answered.

Thankful~
Keri

Snow and Graveclothes

2011-02-04T11:44:00.008-06:00

As I sit here a blanket of snow covers the world. Softly, silently wrapping us in beauty. As each snowflake dances its way past my window pane by heart settles in, content, and my thoughts turn to Mary and Martha. Martha, busy serving, working, doing. And Mary, settled in at the Saviors feet like the sweet winter snow.

And my heart is torn. Between these two women. The two roles they played. Neither bad, but the one was better. That day at Martha’s house Mary chose the better. I, like Martha, choose the good. I choose to serve, to keep busy, to do. Never time to sit, to soak, to marvel in the beauty.

So Jesus, patient, gentle Jesus, sends the snow. And the whispered “slow down, be still”.

And I am.

He sent the snow to Martha too. Only it didn’t settle in drifts, it wrapped in death. Just as the white flakes settle in to still me, strips of white linen wrapped lovingly around the body of the beloved brother stilled Martha’s heart as well.

“When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.” John 11:20

Martha, with a house full of company, with a funeral supper to prepare, with guests to attend to, leaves it all and runs to Jesus. And in her world, wrapped in white silence, He redeems her. He receives her. And Martha chooses the better, she chooses Jesus.

She has grown. She has learned.

And here in this holy moment, this moment of second chances Jesus speaks, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” “Yes, Lord, I believe.” And she does.

She believes that life must be lived in Him. That silent, cold, white worlds are not without hope. That even in death there is only one place she longs to be. Sitting with Jesus, at His feet, holding His hand.

And so it is with you and I; the ones who have chosen the good, and neglected the best. The ones who have lived by our own rules, holding tight to our own ways. The ones who feel frustrated, and worried about many things. We too are invited to come. To find words of life. To find healing. To find love.

It’s snowing harder now. As if God in Heaven is throwing a party for his precious child, I can hear Him beckoning me to come. Come and sit, come and worship. Come dance with the King. For soon, so soon, spring will come and the grave clothes will melt away into summer.

And we will live. Truly live.

Heavy

2011-01-26T10:40:00.003-06:00

My friend wrote something yesterday that has led to a flurry of emails. Can I share my thoughts to her this morning with you?

Jennifer,

It was a late night for me last night. On the phone with a dear friend who is trying to fight the “monster”. You and I have fought that monster too. That voice that paralyzes hope and holds captive joy.

Today the Lord led me to Psalm 40. And it’s comforting, but still… you know when you’re at that point where comforting words just aren’t cutting it anymore? We need a breakthrough, Jennifer!

Today my heart is heavy. For her, for Johnny the Brave, for my own sick kiddos at home, and zero sleep for this mom. For dreams that seem too big to ever be real. For teenagers whose moms don’t love them. For girls willing to do anything for love, and are living with regret and shame.

Today is one of those days when the weight of this fallen world is tangible, and hard to carry. I know I’m not meant to carry it. He is. My job is to simply lay it all at his feet. And pour out my tears on Him, much like Mary did.

Today I'm learning to Let Go and Hold On!

~Keri

I waited patiently for the LORD to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be astounded. They will put their trust in the LORD. Oh, the joys of those who trust the LORD, who have no confidence in the proud, or in those who worship idols. O LORD my God, you have done many miracles for us. Your plans for us are too numerous to list. If I tried to recite all your wonderful deeds, I would never come to the end of them. You take no delight in sacrifices or offerings. Now that you have made me listen, I finally understand -- you don't require burnt offerings or sin offerings. Then I said, "Look, I have come. And this has been written about me in your scroll: I take joy in doing your will, my God, for your law is written on my heart." I have told all your people about your justice. I have not been afraid to speak out, as you, O LORD, well know. I have not kept this good news hidden in my heart; I have talked about your faithfulness and saving power. I have told everyone in the great assembly of your unfailing love and faithfulness. LORD, don't hold back your tender mercies from me. My only hope is in your unfailing love and faithfulness. For troubles surround me -- too many to count! They pile up so high I can't see my way out. They are more numerous than the hairs on my head. I have lost all my courage. Please, LORD, rescue me! Come quickly, LORD, and help me. May those who try to destroy me be humiliated and put to shame. May those who take delight in my trouble be turned back in disgrace. Let them be horrified by their shame, for they said, "Aha! We've got him now!" But may all who search for you be filled with joy and gladness. May those who love your salvation repeatedly shout, "The LORD is great!" As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord is thinking about me right now. You are my helper and my savior. Do not delay, O my God. Psalm 40

Will you pray with me today?

Father, today is one of those days that makes the heart ache. Trouble and heartache surround us. Pits, mud and mire hold us captive. We are poor and need. But You, O God, You think about us. What am amazing thought! You know. The hurts, the worries, the questions in our hearts. You have not forgotten us. You have not abandoned us. You have loved us, and love us still, today, in this moment. So here it is, God. All the burdens of our hearts. We lay them at Your feet. We let it go, give it to You. Will You rescue us? Will You hold our hearts? Will You hear our cry? Will You come and set us free? We invite You to show off. To show us Your glory. To grow our hearts in these moments of suffering. To make us more like You. Come quickly, Lord and help! Our only hope is in Your unfailing love!

Rest

2011-01-18T14:56:00.002-06:00

Someone, somewhere started preaching the message that if we were balanced we would be happy. For years now I’ve tried to walk the tight rope, spinning my plates and striving to stay balanced. And can I be honest with you? I’m so over it.

I’m sure whoever started the “balance” message was well intentioned. I’m sure they were feeling stretched too thin, pulled in too many directions, run ragged. And in an effort to regain a little control went searching for balance.

The problem I see with “balance” is that I don’t really find Jesus setting that example for us. Jesus was extreme. When He fasted it wasn’t for a day or so, it was for 40 days. When He prayed He didn’t just recite nice poetic words, He sweated blood. When He loved He didn’t just love His friends, but the prostitute, the tax collector, the demonic. When He said He wanted to provide a way for us to be brought near to God He didn’t just invite us over for tea, He hung naked on a cross and took the burden of our sin.

Jesus was extreme. Fully engaged. Wholly immersed in every moment, every activity.

Recently I’ve been wrestling with the concept of “rest”. God commands us to rest. Yet, I don’t think I have any idea what it means to rest in God. Lazy? I’ve got that down. Rest? Not so much.

Today someone said to me that the purpose of rest is to be refreshed and renewed in His glory. Vegging on the couch is not rest. Getting my 8 hours of shut eye is not rest. It’s not about balancing work and leisure. Getting rest requires us to be purposeful. It’s a decision we make to position ourselves to really be with Jesus. Our rest should be extreme. Fully engaged. Without distraction. Enjoying Him.

My mentor has an amazing way of painting visual pictures of what my heart is wrestling with. She told me that a lot of times we find ourselves chasing after Jesus, running to keep up with Him, striving to be doing His will. Resting in Jesus, however, is like climbing on a sled and letting Jesus hold the rope. We’re still moving, still going with Him, still busy about His work. But like a little child tethered to a trustworthy dad we can simply enjoy the ride.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of running.

I think I’m ready to rest.

The Land of Not Enough

2011-01-13T14:10:00.005-06:00

In the book of 2 Kings there is an obscure passage where the newly anointed Prophet Elisha finds himself in the Land of Not Enough. He arrives in Gilgal to discover there is a famine. No other description was given of Gilgal except that one word: famine. No other description was needed.

Famine. shortage. hunger. lack. Not enough.

The people of the land were hungry, desperate, longing to be filled. They were famished.

And so am I.

Sitting here in my Land of More Than Enough. Surrounded by surplus. I too am famished. But not because of a lack of food, or clothing, or warmth, or shelter, or entertainment, or comfort. No, all of those I have in excess.

But there is a holy dissatisfaction. A deep, unfulfilled longing. A famine in my soul.

It cannot be quenched by routine quite times… it aches to feast at the banquet of His Word.

It cannot be satisfied in simple recited prayers… it must pour out under the waterfall of His presence.

In cannot be appeased in participation in a song service… it longs to be wrapped up in worship.

In the Land of Not Enough I am desperate to be filled. I try to appease the hunger in my soul. Work. Fun. Fellowship. Shopping. Eating. Volunteering. Performing. I try and try to fill the void. And yet, after all my trying I am still needy. Still hungry. Still famished.

A famine in my soul.

The people of the Gilgal came to Elisha and told him one simple thing. They told him they were famished. Elisha provided food for the hungry.

And they ate and had some left over. 2 Kings 4:44

They ate.

And they had some left over.

From famine to abundance.

From lack to surplus.

From needy to whole.

I too am famished. I too come. Asking to be filled once again. And my Jesus answers me with at sweet and confident yes. Yes child… you can be filled.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Mat. 5:6

Pew Dweller

2011-01-04T14:02:00.003-06:00

We passed in the paper goods aisle at the grocery story. She was wearing a bright red t-shirt with “Pew Dweller” in bold print across the front. Something about it bothered me, but I wasn’t sure what. Later that night I read this…

“When the Church retreats from the world, she becomes a fortress. She is seen as little more than an irrelevant, archaic, outdated, decaying institution on the fringes of society. Sadder still, she becomes filled with people who are of the world but not in it rather than people who are in the world but not of it. Now, this might sound like mere semantics, but there’s a big difference.” Christine Caine

And this morning…

“If the altar of our churches has become a place of celebration only and not a place of sacrifice, the result will be shallow, self-centered people filling pews that have no real intention of serving the Kingdom.” Dane Hall

I’ve spent a lot of years living my life as a “pew dweller”. My motives were pure. I loved the church. Loved everything about it. Church is where I felt most at home, most welcome. Why would I not want to dwell there?

But lately I’ve been feeling like I live in a bubble of Christianity. Like everything in my life is sanitized and safe. And I’m fairly convinced that’s not why Jesus suffered and died… for me to be safe.

Recently I’ve found myself praying “God, make me dangerous”. And it’s a prayer that scares the snot out of me. But I can’t quit praying it. I’m tired of being safe. And I’m insanely tired of the Enemy feeling like he's safe around me. I want to be dangerous to the kingdom of darkness. I want to disrupt the schemes of evil. Fight for the lost. Tear down strongholds. See the captives set free.

I want to be a part of feeding the hungry. Clothing the naked. Loving the broken. Healing the sick.

I want to be IN the world.

I want to be a light in the world.

No offense to my sister with the “pew dweller” t-shirt, but I’m bored with a faith that simply sits on a pew. I’m ready to “go into all the world and preach the gospel”.

The Pennies

2010-12-28T09:00:00.003-06:00

“That will be $4.71 please pull around to the first window.” I dug a 20 out of my wallet as I drove around to pay for my breakfast. The guy working the drive-through was in a good mood for it being so early, and so cold. He started to count back my change to me when he realized he didn’t have any pennies in his cash drawer. As he opened the new roll I heard him gasp. “Check this out” he said to me as he handed me my change. “A whole roll of brand new pennies. Aren’t they beautiful.” He asked.

And they were. Perfectly shiny. Without a scratch on them.

I thanked him, tossed the pennies in my change cup and drove away to finish my errands.

But I couldn’t quit thinking about those shiny pennies. I was their first owner. How would I spend them? What would I do with them? Where would they travel?

I reached out to grab one of them to examine it again. But instead of picking up one penny, I grabbed two. One brand new, the other obviously very old and dirty. Its coppery shine had faded to a dull brown. It looked almost sad next to the new perfectly polished penny. I flipped it over in my hand and read the date on it. 1973. The year I was born.

The old tired penny was as old as me. Looking at the two pennies I realized that the old one was a lot like me. Tired, worn, scratched and no longer shiny. I wished I was more like the new pretty penny.

Then I realized that wasn’t true after all. The old penny and I, we’ve been through a lot. Traveled the world. Experienced a lot of life. I wondered how many hands that penny has passed through. How many times it’s been counted. I wondered if it had been cherished or taken for granted. I wondered if it had bought candy, paid the rent, put gas in the car, bought lifesaving medicine for a sick child. One thing was for certain… that penny had been used!

That was clear just by looking at it.

I want to be used too. I want to be of use. To God. To His Kingdom. Like currency in His hands I want Him to be able to spend my life as He sees fit. I want to be life and hope to the world around me. Even if it means forsaking the shiny perfection of being new. Even if it means getting a few scratches and dings along the way.

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” Isa. 6:8

Merry Christmas

2010-12-24T23:56:00.003-06:00

The kids are all tucked in bed and the last of the presents have been wrapped and placed under the tree. All of the work that comes with being a mom at Christmas is done. Now, finally, it’s time to sit and reflect.

Christmas, to me, has always been about endings and beginnings. It marks the end of the year as we look forward to the new year, new resolutions, new promises. It’s a time to reflect on the past year and all that it held. Joys, sorrows. Saying goodbye to people we loved, making room for new friends. The struggles we survived, the surprises along the way. All of life wrapped up in memories, tucked away in our hearts.

I think God meant for Christmas to be reflective. After all, it was the birth of His Son that marked the greatest new beginning of all time. The end of silence was broken by a babies cry. Years of wondering were ended by the most wonderful gift of all. When Jesus came everything changed. The old things passed away, and all things were made new. This is the gift He offers us. New life.

I think that’s what I love about Christmas. The wonder of it all. The thought that no matter how hopeless a person or situation appears to be that there is redemption offered to us. It’s the promise, the grace, the splendor and majesty wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.

And because of the hope of Christmas I sit here and think of tomorrow. Of what it might hold, for me… for you. What promise does tomorrow hold? What answered prayer awaits us? What joy sits on the other side of this dark night? When Jesus was born four hundred years of silence was shattered on a clear dark night in Bethlehem. And the world has never been the same. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

That is the gift I want this Christmas. The gift of the Word dwelling in my midst. The gift of Emmanuel, God with us. The gift of the promise of new life.

I pray that He will be your gift as well!

Merry Christmas!

The Secret

2010-12-15T05:00:00.000-06:00

Her name was Sam. And we were seated at the same table for the Chamber Choir’s Madrigal Feast. She was beautiful. Not necessarily in appearance, but in spirit. Externally, you would have noticed plain brown hair, average height, little makeup, simple clothes. But then Sam started talking to us. Her beautiful British accent flitting across the table as her eyes sparkled. When she smiled it wasn’t just with her mouth but with her whole being. We were all instantly drawn to her.

As we waited for the performance to begin Sam kept a running commentary. The food… delectable. The Wassail… divine. The décor… stunning. Her assessment of our evening influenced each of us around the table. Then suddenly a hush fell across the room and Sam grew silent. Slowly the Chamber Choir began their processional singing acapella of the Christ Child and a manger.

As their voices filled the air my attention was once again drawn to Sam. Her eyes were closed, face upturned and slightly tilted, a single tear made its way across her cheek. Completely unashamed she sat fully immersed in the emotion of the moment. In a word she was radiant.

And as I watched He whispered to me “she knows the secret”.

The secret of being fully engaged. Of living, embracing, savoring every moment. The secret of joy.

She was not aware of time, or schedules, or urgent emails waiting to be answered. She was not worried about bills needing to be paid, or concerned about her child’s grades. She was simply, completely there. In that moment. Focused. Enjoying.

And I was jealous. I wanted to feel her joy. Experience her rapture. Join her in abandonment. But I simply could not silence all of the other voices in my mind. Like icy winds they whipped through my mind. Schedules, deadlines, lists, chores.

I want to be more like Sam. I want to silence the voices that aim to distract me. I want to revel in beauty. Get lost in joy. Be swept up in wonder. Enjoy the moment.

And so… I shall.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. Psalm 34:8

Rise up Shepherd and Follow

2010-12-12T05:00:00.000-06:00

There’s an old African-American Spiritual that has been haunting me the last few days. The words have crept into my soul and wrapped their fingers around my heart. When I wake I hear their refrain. All through the day it echoes in my mind…

Leave your flocks and leave your herds

Rise up shepherd and follow

Can you imagine it? A cold hillside on a dark night. The lights of Bethlehem in the distant. The bleating of sheep all around. Small fires surrounded by weather hardened shepherds; nomads. I wonder if they were tired. If they missed home, or if the endless pasture was their home. I wonder how long it had been since they had heard the cry of a baby, felt the smooth skin of a child, heard the innocent laughter of a little boy. Calloused hands holding wooden staffs and wooly coats. That was their life. No women, no children, no roof over their heads. Only sheep, shepherds and endless sky.

Until…

there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests." When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about." So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

Rise up shepherd.

Rise up from outside the city gate. Rise up from your comfortable place around the warm fire. Rise up from the routine of your day.

And follow.

Follow the star to the baby. Follow the baby to green pastures and still waters. Follow the Shepherd of your souls.

Leave your flocks.

And leave your herds. Leave the things you depend on. Leave everything behind.

Rise up shepherd. And follow.

And they did. They did exactly what the angel told them to do.

Yet here I sit. Clinging to the comforts of my life. Glued to the seat of my complacency. Deaf to the Harkening of the Angels. Afraid to follow. Afraid to leave the flocks & herds. Afraid to rise up.

Yet, still I hear the chorus repeat. Rise up shepherd and follow. And softly in the distance I hear my Shepherd call; rise up, child, and follow.

All I want for Christmas is a Limp

2010-11-30T12:55:00.002-06:00

My friend Jennifer and I have been a bit obsessed with Joseph and Jacob lately. They were dreamers. We are too. And yet, their path from dream to reality didn’t really go like either one of them had planned. Neither has ours.

Yesterday Jennifer texted me: I keep hearing this: You have been wrestling, but you’re not walking with a limp yet. Time to get alone like Jacob did…

It’s true. The last several months have been spent wrestling God. Wrestling with His word, with His dreams in my heart, with knowing Him more fully. But I’m still walking the same. Maybe not exactly the same, but the changes have been subtle. And frankly, I’m done with subtle.

I want more.

I’m desperate for more.

And in my longing for more of Jesus I keep hearing… wait. Get alone. Fast. Pray. Watch. Seek.

But it’s Christmas! Doesn’t God know that this is the busiest time of the year? There’s decorating and baking to be done. Presents to be purchased and wrapped. Family and friends to visit. I don’t have time for waiting, seeking, and certainly not fasting (seriously? Fasting during Christmas? That’s just crazy!).

And then I am reminded of what this season is supposed to be about. It’s supposed to be about waiting for a Savior. It’s supposed to be about preparing our hearts to receive the King. It’s supposed to be about a light shining in the darkness. It’s supposed to be about Advent.

Advent- an arrival or coming, esp. one which is awaited, a coming into place, view, or being; arrival:

In a dark lonely prison Joseph waited on God and a promotion. On a dark lonely night Jacob waited on God and a blessing. And in a dark lonely stable Mary waited on God and a baby.

What are you waiting for? Praying for? Wrestling God for? What is the Advent of your heart?

Are you limping yet?

So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hop so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. Then the man said “Let me go, for it is daybreak.” But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” The man asked him, “What is your name?” “Jacob” he answered. Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome.” Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.” But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” then he blessed him there. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “It is because I say God face to face, and yet my life was spared.” The sun rose above him as he passed Peniel, and he was limping because of his hip. Gen. 32:24-31

Broken Girl

2010-11-16T15:42:00.005-06:00

How long, O God, will your daughters suffer in darkness? How long will their silent cries go unanswered? How long will they be trapped in their pain?

How long will they be abused? Mistreated by the ones who should protect them. Rejected by the ones who should love them. How long will they carry the shame of what’s been done to them. Of what they’ve done to themselves?

Human trafficking. Sex slaves. Assault. Molestation. Rape. Abandonment. Abuse.

Beauty defiled. Purity marred.

Do you hear their cries, God? Do you see them, in the dirty hovels, in the back alleys, in their father’s beds?

You must. How can you stand it God? When I can hardly contain the anger, the sorrow I feel. How can you stand it when your beloved child is robbed of her innocence?

And what are we to do?

What am I to say to the broken girl; in the mirror, across the table, on the other end of the phone, on the other side of the world?

How do I tell her about hope, when all she’s known is despair?

How do I tell her about love, when all she’s known is abuse?

How do I tell her about truth, when all she’s known is lies?

You love her, Jesus, don’t you? You love me, too. You love all of the broken girls. You don’t see us as marred, do you? You think we’re beautiful. Even with dirty hands and broken hearts.

The world says we are rejected.

You say we belong.

The world says we are marred.

You say we are whole.

The world says we are tainted.

You say we are pure.

The world says we are an object to be used.

You say we are of infinite value, and are to be treasured.

The world says we are damaged goods.

You say we are perfection.

Still it’s hard God. The lies are so loud. So deafening. It’s hard to hear the truth, harder still to believe it.

God, tonight, will you hold your girls? Will you tell us that you love us? Will you remind us one more time? We need to hear it again. Bring light into our darkness, Father. Breathe new life into our hard and jaded hearts. Break the chains that hold us. Give us strength to stand. To believe. To be free.

Love,

The broken girls

In case you haven’t noticed, my heart is very heavy today. Everywhere I look it seems as if I’m surrounded by broken girls, hiding in their pain, trying to cover up their shame. It makes me mad. And it makes me want to cry. I can only imagine how it makes my God feel. If you are a broken girl, can I remind you that you are loved? Can I remind you that you are beautiful? That nothing in your past or your present disqualifies you from being loved and accepted! He has loved you with an everlasting love. He doesn’t want you to stay broken. He wants to put you back together again. Will you let Him?

Show Me

2010-11-12T06:53:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I shared part of my journey over at incourage. This morning driving in to work I was listening to Audrey Assad and heard the song that started me thinking of what it means to learn to die. Today I thought I'd share Audrey's beautiful song with you!

It's Time to Die

2010-11-11T06:03:00.003-06:00

Years ago, I wrote that and meant it. Literally. The all encompassing black cloud of depression held tightly to me, and death seemed the only escape.

Thankfully, He rescued me from that cave of despair. Now, I want to live. And not just live, but live BIG.

Will you join me at incourage for the rest of the rest of the story?

Purpose or Beauty

2010-11-10T12:31:00.002-06:00

The leaves are turning. An array of orange, bronze and red assaults me from the other side of my window. Gusts of wind send them dancing across yard. Breathtaking!

Leaves are temporal things. Born in the spring, flourishing in the summer and vibrant in the fall just hours before their death. A nuisance in winter, lying upon our manicured lawns, blown into piles against our houses. But what is the purpose of the leaf? Is it to grow and flourish and then die? Or is there a deeper meaning to its short life? In reality the purpose of the leaf is not for the leaf at all, its purpose is for the tree, actually for the roots of the tree.

The root system is what grounds the tree, what nourishes it, what sustains it. Without the roots, there would be no tree. It is the very essence of all we see. But the leaves, they live and die for the glory of the roots and they do so with majestic beauty. They supply the water and food to nourish the roots. They offer shade so the roots won’t scorch under the hot summer sun. In the fall, they prepare the roots for the cold winter ahead, and as they rest upon the ground they blanket the roots from the winter snows. Yes, the roots provide the life, but the leaves provide the abundance!

A root system with out leaves is like purpose without beauty. And a leaf without roots is simply beauty without purpose.

So the question is which do you choose? Joy and beauty? Or purpose and life? Perhaps the question shouldn’t be a choice but a challenge. A challenge to obtain both. For without both leaves and roots the tree will die. And I have a feeling same is true with you and I. Jesus said “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). Abundant life can't be achieved with out both roots and leaves. Without beauty and purpose. The roots serve the leaves and the leaves serve the roots. Just as living in your purpose brings beauty and living in His beauty brings purpose. Can the two exist alone? Sure. But why would we want them to? Why have one without the other when Jesus freely offers both!

Our roots establish us. They are what give us the strength to survive the long cold winters of our lives. If our roots don’t go deep we won’t be able to stand when trials come our way. We must guard and protect our roots, above all else. If our roots are deep, and well watered, they will thrive every day for all of our days. Good, bad. Stormy or calm. Our roots hold true.

Leaves, on the other hand, are seasonal. They grow, they die. They change with the weather. Leaves are affected by circumstances. Just as we are. On bright sunny days they clap with joy! When the cold winter sets in they shrivel up and fall to the ground. But the thing about leaves, about beauty, is that it always returns. It always offers hope. Spring always returns.

“To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:3)

So dig deep in the Word of God. Pursue Him! Immerse yourself in Him! Let your roots go deep! For this is the sustaining essence of life in Christ. And let your beauty shine for all the world to see. Grow and drink and wave and shine!

Be rooted. Be beautiful.

Happy Birthday Allison & Alexa...

2010-11-02T07:07:00.004-05:00

This picture was taken when the girls were 2.5 weeks old. It was their first milestone... a picture with no oxygen masks, heart monitors, umbilical lines, or IVs. It was a temporary respite from all their tubes and wires. We still had 2 more weeks of oxygen and 9 months of heart monitors in our future. But on this day they were free (except for the feeding tubes).

Today milestones are measured differently. Driving cars, late nights with the girls, college applications. Scary stuff. My baby girls are women now.

Tomorrow morning another milestone... Sweet 16! And sweet they are! I am so blessed by these sweet girls. They are a joy, my sunshine!

Today a song from my favorite scene from our favorite movie (that finally applies)... for my 16 year old girls, who wait on an empty stage... I can't wait to see the story of their lives unfold!

You wait little girl

On an empty stage

For fate to turn the light on

Your life little girl

is an empty page

that men will want to write on

to write on

You are 16 going on 17

Waiting for life to start

Somebody kind who touches your mind

Will suddenly touch your heart

When that happens, after it happens

Nothing is quite the same

Somehow I know I'll jump up and go

If ever he calls my name

Gone are your old ideas of life

The old ideas grow dim

Lo and behold you're someone's wife

And you belong to him

You may think this kind of adventure

Never may come to you

Darling 16 going on 17

Wait a year… or two

I'm no Julie Andrews... but my girls are as sweet and beautiful as Lisle.

I am so proud of you both!

Love you forever~

Mom

Follow

2010-10-27T11:22:00.004-05:00

I discovered something today. I have a MySpace account. OK, so I already knew that. But I logged on to it today for the first time in over 2 years. I decided I don't really need to be on MySpace anymore so I deleted it. But before I did I copied a few blog posts I had there.

I've never claimed to be a poet. But on occasion I like to make words rhyme. I found this poem that I wrote in '07 at a time in my life when I was really feeling the stirring of God towards full time ministry. It was a precious sweet season in my life.

Just thought I'd share where my heart was then, and still dwells now...

I heard a call from Jesus,

"You've a purpose to fulfill"

So I'm following my Master,

I've no time to be still.

I heed Him when He beckons

I listen when He calls

Dropping everything I answer

Lest I lose my all in all.

Where He leads me I will follow

I trust He knows the way

Never stopping to consider

If I should go or stay.

To stay here would bring comfort

And to follow would bring fear

But my fears I will conquer

To my Lord, I must be near.

This uncharted journey

Is one amazing ride

It's filled with joy and laughter

With Jesus by my side.

He leads me to the captives

And lets me watch Him set them free

Reminding me without Him

That prison is where I'd be.

For a moment I'll stop and ponder

The amazement of it all

The closeness of my Savior

The wonder of His call.

But I've no time to linger

This life is but a breath

The prize so close before me

On the other side of death.

But while breath is in this body

And strength is in this hand

I'll run this race before me

Telling others of this Man

Who walked upon the waters

Who hung upon a cross

Who lay within a borrowed tomb

For me, for I was lost.

So if you hear Him calling

Don't hesitate or stall

For He longs to have you join us

As we journey one and all.

He'll never leave you or forsake you

He will guide your every way

He only asks you answer,

And follow Him today.

Act vs. Be

2010-10-25T07:36:00.003-05:00

Sunday.

For me it conjures up many thoughts. Church. Naps. Long walks. Cuddle time with kids. I love Sundays.

For my husband Sunday means one thing… Steeler’s Football. Actually, for him, the Steeler’s game prep starts on Monday. Checking highlights from last week’s game, reading injury reports, talking to the guys about different plays, rehashing every call the refs made. At some point in the week he moves from reflecting on the previous game to anticipating the upcoming one. At that point he starts changing Fantasy Rosters, studying the other team, and initiating conversations with me about what Ben Roethlisberger should do differently this game.

Me on the other hand… I don’t mind watching the Steelers game. In fact, on occasion, I enjoy it. I can even pull off a mighty fine game watching outfit. I’ve got the Steelers t-shirt. I even own a Terrible Towel, and have been known to wave it when we score a touchdown. Oh… and I love Troy Polamalu. But not because of his talent on the field, it’s all about the hair!

The difference between my husband and I? I act like a good Steelers fan. He is a good Steelers Fan.

Act like a fan.

Be a fan.

I can’t help but wondering what other things in my life I act vs. be. I can act happy even when I’m not. I can act interested even when I’m not. I can act like I have it all together even when I don’t.

Sadly, I can even act like a good Christian. I know how to play the part. I know all the right answers. I can fit in with all the right crowds. I’m comfortable sitting in church or debating theology.

But I don’t want to act like a Christian.

I want to be one.

I want to look like Jesus. Dress like Jesus. Talk like Jesus.

I want to be like Jesus.

And being like Jesus cannot be acted. It must be genuine. Being like Jesus means less striving, more resting. Less rule following, more relationship building. Less trying, more surrendering.

And so, dear brothers and sisters, we can boldly enter heaven's Most Holy Place because of the blood of Jesus. This is the new, life-giving way that Christ has opened up for us through the sacred curtain, by means of his death for us. And since we have a great High Priest who rules over God's people, let us go right into the presence of God, with true hearts fully trusting him. For our evil consciences have been sprinkled with Christ's blood to make us clean, and our bodies have been washed with pure water. Without wavering, let us hold tightly to the hope we say we have, for God can be trusted to keep his promise. Heb. 10:19-23

Shallow

2010-10-20T12:06:00.003-05:00

Here’s the thing about blogging that I’ve realized this week. Blogging doesn’t necessarily paint an accurate picture of me. Even though my goal is to be transparent, and in my transparency I often share things that are painful, I still choose what and when to share.

So if the only interaction you ever have with me is from what you read in my blog or what you hear me say on-air then the picture you will have of me will not be an accurate representation of who I really am. If, on the other hand, you happen to live in my house, share a workspace with me, or be a certain fake redhead who just won’t let me hide behind my filter, then the odds are good that you know me.

Take the last nine days of my life for example. There have been no blog updates and very few facebook updates. Why? Because I don’t want anyone to know what’s going on in my head. Why? Because I can’t even make sense of what’s going on in my head. And it’s not even that things are bad. I’m not depressed. I’m not stressed. I’m not overwhelmed, or mad, or in despair. I’m just blah. And I hate blah. Blah is not me. I’m deep. Passionate. A bit crazy even. But lately I’m just… “whatever”.

So, I’ve been avoiding you. Not just you, but everyone. I’ve been quiet. Withdrawn. Pulled back. Stand-offish. Even with God.

I keep thinking “I need to blog”. But then I realize I have nothing to say. So I don’t.

I still don’t have anything to say, except this…

I want to be real.

I want to be fully alive.

I want to embrace life and love without measure.

Right now my “want” and my “am” are not lining up. Right now I am needy. Right now I am tired. Right now I am living in the fog. But I will not stay here. He is calling to me. Reawakening me. Wooing me.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. Where can I go and meet with God? These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I used to go with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng. Why are you so downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you. Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. Psalm 42

Let it be so with me, Lord. Let it be.

One Thing

2010-10-12T12:24:00.001-05:00

I love to play solitaire. Last night I played with cards. Remember those? It’s what we used to play with before there were computers and smart phones.

I take my card games a bit too seriously. Once I get started I’m extremely focused. And if I get stuck… let’s just say it’s not pretty. In my mind every game of solitaire is winnable, so if I can’t figure it out I get really frustrated.

Lately, whenever I feel really stuck I always stop to take another close look and I think to myself, I just need one move. If I can find one move it could change the entire outcome of the game. And it works. I can go from thinking I’m going to lose to being on a roll after finding just one move.

Lately my life has felt a bit like a solitaire game gone awry. I feel stuck. Like I just can’t win. I feel like there’s too much that needs to be done. And it’s overwhelming at times.

I make some pretty grand lists. Seriously, you’d be impressed. I’ve even been known to make color coordinated Excel spreadsheets with charts and graphs on how I’m going to fix my life. But they never work. I can’t ever find the motivation to start on my 101 step process to freedom. So I quit before I ever start and wind up right back where I started… stuck and overwhelmed.

But what if God doesn’t want me to enroll in a 100 step program? What if He’s not wanting me to get my entire house spotless and laundry done in one afternoon? Or overcome my area of struggle in one morning prayer time. What if He just wants me to do one thing? To find one move? To take one step?

That I can do.

What about you? Do you feel stuck? Overwhelmed? Like you’re losing? What one thing can you do today to change the game?

I’ll go first… I have a long term on-again off-again relationship with mild depression. Over the years I’ve learned my triggers and also what is most effective for stopping depression in its tracks. My “quick fix” is worship. It snaps me out of it. But the last week instead of snapping out of it, I’ve been embracing it. Wallerin’ in it really. (I know wallerin’ isn’t a real word, but I’m sticking with it) So today I’m breaking out my worship playlist!

Now… your turn! What one thing can you do today?

God Sized Dreams

2010-10-07T06:07:00.002-05:00

My friend Holley and I have been having an ongoing conversation about God Sized Dreams. Today I'm sharing about my biggest obstacle in chasing my dreams... fear. Join me on Heart to Heart with Holley for the rest of the story!

Trailblazer

2010-10-05T11:39:00.003-05:00

I have three daughters. Yesterday they were little babies and today they are young women, just a few short years from spreading their wings and leaving my nest. I have big dreams for my girls- God Sized Dreams! I believe with all of my heart that they can, with God’s ever present help, do amazing things with their lives.

But, it’s not enough for me to have dreams for my daughters, unless I also have dreams for myself.

You see… I’m a trailblazer.

I grew up in a home shattered by divorce and void of talk of God and dreams. I was loved and I was nurtured, but I never saw the women around me fly… so I never believed I could either.

Until I was a teenager and fell head over heels in love with Jesus. He not only saved me, He also planted a dream in my heart and whispered to me in the quiet hours of the night… “I believe in you! Spread your wings and fly!”

And so I did. Tentatively at first, with fear gripping my heart. Then I became stronger, steadier… occasional storms still send me back to the nest, but never for long. I just can’t ignore His call… “Come fly with me.”

I fly for Him and Him alone.

But I know He’s not the only one who watches me.

My nearly grown daughters have watched me fly... and fall... and fly again. They have seen me jump off of ledges and cry out for Jesus to save me.

And in watching they too have begun to dream. They too long to fly. They too can’t wait to soar.

I know one day soon they will fly higher than I dare. But I will not stop flying and dream through them. I will keep flying. I will dream with them. I will spur them on to higher heights and greater dreams.

I will blaze a trail for the daughters to follow.

Marianne Williamson wrote in her beautiful poem Our Deepest Fear:

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

Girls, it’s time to shine! It’s time to fly! For our daughters, for the ladies in our small groups, for the women we work with, for the new mom, for the lost teenager! They are watching, waiting and hoping… hoping that YOU will blaze a trail!

Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ. 1 Cor. 11:1

Redemption

2010-09-24T06:00:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I shared part of my story over at Thin Places. It’s not often that I allow myself to travel back to that time when wounds were fresh and raw. Healing has a wonderful way of dulling the pain of the past.

It’s fascinating to me how we view things differently in different seasons of our lives. When I was a fifteen year old girl my parents’ divorce shattered my world as I knew it. From as early as Eden we’ve learn to cope by placing blame. And that’s exactly what I did. I blamed my mom.

Now, as a grown woman, and a mom myself, I look at the circumstances of my childhood through different lenses. I see my mom differently now than I did then.

Redemption is a curious thing. True redemption causes a change of heart. I can look back at my own life thankful that I’m not the same person today that I was decades, years, or even months ago. I’ve grown, evolved, changed. I’ve been redeemed. I’ve been forgiven. I’ve been loved.

And through my redemption I am free to forgive. I am free to let go. I am free to accept the truth that just as I have grown and evolved, so has my mom and also my relationship with her.

I’m overwhelmed by the healing God has done in both of our hearts. I’m so grateful that God has restored our relationship. But before healing came I had to let go of the pain of the past.

I was thinking this morning about how we love to hold tightly to our hurt. We grip it in white knuckles. We hold our hurts up to God asking questions that begin with “Why?”

The problem with holding tightly to pain is that it hinders us from being embraced.

I’ve learned that God very rarely answers the Whys. But He always comforts His child. And in His arms the Whys slip away. It’s simply enough to be loved.

But we must first let go. We can’t hold on to our hurts and God.

I remember when my little boy was around 3. He had an obsession with trucks. This particular afternoon he had tripped and the truck he was hugging busted his lip. He came to me with tears streaming down his face wanting me to hold him. But I couldn’t get my arms around him. There were too many trucks between us. Eventually his longing for me superseded his need for his trucks and one by one he handed them to me. I took them from him then gathered him in my arms and soothed his anxious heart. We sat and rocked and snuggled until his cries turned to sweet peace.

God stands ready and able to do the same for us. His arms are wide open waiting for us to run to him for healing. The choice is ours.

We can hold on to the truck.

Or we can hold on to God.

My Thin Place

2010-09-23T06:11:00.002-05:00

It was 3:25 in the afternoon and I stood right inside the threshold of my front door. Just like every other day of my sophomore year of high school. Only today was different. Something wasn’t right.

As I slowly made my way through the house I noticed things missing. A couch. A chair. A bookshelf. Pictures, rugs, tables; just disappeared.

Will you join me at Mary DeMuth's for the rest of my Thin Place Story?

2010-09-17T11:35:00.005-05:00

This morning driving to work I was talking to Jesus about love. I’ve been struggling lately with the concept of love being a two way street. You see, past hurts have caused me to be a bit reluctant when it comes to trust, and without trust it’s hard to love. I’ve begun to realize that I’m better at giving love than receiving it.

I was talking with my friend Holley over some BBQ the other day about this dilemma… and we seem to feel as though it might be tied to control. My heart feels safe when I’m in control. So, if I show/give/express love to you then I am controlling the situation. But receiving love gives you control. So, I keep people at arm’s length. I pull back when you reach out. I hide when love shines on me.

I know it’s not right. This is not how God wants me to live. He wants me to have an open heart and open arms. Its dangerous stuff, letting your heart be open. It means I might get hurt. It means I might get betrayed. But… it also means I might find hope. I might find healing. I might find warmth and acceptance and… LOVE.

Anyway… I was talking it all over with Jesus this morning and decided that I was going to open my heart up to Him, freely and unreservedly with no strings attached. 1 John 4:19 says we love because He first loved us. So all love must start with Him. I decided to go to the source. To sit as His feet for a bit and learn from the Master what it means to be loved.

I thought that maybe, if I can learn to be loved by Him then I can learn to be loved by others.

My heart was set and at peace. Then I reached for the dial and turned the radio on and literally in that second heard Matthew West singing this:

I love you more than the sun

And the stars that I taught how to shine

You are mine, and you shine for me too

I love you yesterday and today

And tomorrow, I’ll say it again and again

I love you more

It’s like that fight that parents like to have with their kids… you know the one. The “I love you” “I love you more” fight. This morning I whispered a quiet I love you to my Father and He shouted back to me… I love you more!

And now I am overwhelmed. How absolutely amazing is He to orchestrate the minute details of my life in such a way that that line from that song would be playing at the exact moment that I would push the power button in my car at 5:30am on a Friday morning. I’m sorry but that cannot be coincidence. That to me is proof…

He wins!

He loves me more!

Legacy

2010-09-14T06:09:00.004-05:00

This past weekend I decided to tackle the mess in the garage. Fun way to spend a Saturday. In the midst of sorting I found a few boxes my aunt had sent me after my Bompa (grandpa) passed away. I knew they were filled with pictures, and at the time I didn’t have the emotional strength to sift through the memories. For the last two years these boxes have sat in the corner of my garage.

I decided it was time to tackle them. So I had my hubby drag them in the living room. I poured myself a soda, grabbed a bag of chips and plopped down on the floor to explore.

The first box I opened was filled with old black and whites. Great-great-grandparents, relatives I’ve only heard stories about and never met. Turning over each picture I was greeted with my grandma’s beautiful handwriting… Mary Abrams, 1903, 4 years old; John Halleck, Emma’s father, 1856.

I continued to dig, began to find pictures of relatives whose names and faces were familiar to me. Then I found a simple flat box. I assumed it was just stationary. Noni (grandma) was a letter writer and was always well stocked with beautiful cards and stationary. But there, buried beneath the cards were 7 small, aged pieces of paper. And written on them was poetry. Poetry that she had written to her sweetheart who was off fighting in World War II.

There in my hands I found my legacy. I poured over each word, tears streaming down my face. You see, it was Noni who taught me to love words. She is the one who encouraged me to write. My passion for pen and page came directly from her. And there in my hands… a treasure. Private, poetic words of love.

Their marriage lasted 55 years. I remember the weekend I had to say goodbye to her, sitting in that hospital room listening to a machine breathe on her behalf. I remember the restaurant we all went to for lunch, the park bench my Bompa and I sat on as we waited for our table. I remember the words he spoke to me, “Keri, she wasn’t just my wife. She was my sweetheart. I want you to know that. Know that I loved her, everyday.” As I took his wrinkled, arthritic hand in mine my heart was full. Full of joy for a couple who stood the test of time, who loved freely, who left a legacy.

And now, evidence of their love hangs in the entryway of my home. It greets me every day. A reminder to love.

One day, 50 or so years from now, someone that I’ve yet to meet will unpack a box filled with memoirs from my life. I wonder what they will cherish. Will they find something of mine that causes their heart to be filled with longing? Will they find something worth framing and hanging on the walls of their home. Will they talk of “grandma” and “grandpa” with pride?

I know what a gift it is to leave a legacy. For it is a gift I have received. It is a gift I desire to pass on to my own children and grandchildren. And so, today, my heart is filled with questions… Have I loved well? Have I cherished deeply? Have I laughed freely? Am I leaving a legacy?

Abide

2010-09-10T09:00:00.001-05:00

If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. John 15:7

I have good news. Abide is a verb!!!

Seriously, it is!

Do you know what that means? That means that when we are abiding we are doing something! When we decide to ignore the To Do list and turn off all electronic devices and sit on the carpet and think about Jesus we are doing something!

When we choose to say no to the committee, and let someone else bake the 500 cupcakes for the school fundraiser so we can spend time soaking in God’s word… we are doing something!

We are not being unproductive when we abide!!!

We are not being unproductive when we sit in silence longing for Him to speak to us.

We are not being unproductive when we turn up the worship music and dance like crazy.

We are not being unproductive when we fall on the floor and sob our eyes out.

We are not being unproductive when we drive the long way home to steal a glimpse of His creation.

As a matter of fact… abiding might very well be the most productive thing we will ever do.

But abiding requires us to reposition ourselves. We cannot go full steam ahead every waking moment and abide. Abiding requires us to say no to things that would distract us. Abiding requires us to come to grips with the fact that God doesn’t want our accomplishments… He just wants us! He wants us to come, to sit, to rest, to love.

As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem, they came to a village where a woman named Martha welcomed them into her home. Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord’s feet, listening to what He taught. But Martha was worrying over the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn't it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.” But the Lord said to her, “My dear Martha, you are so upset over all these details! There is really only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary had discovered it—and I won’t take it away from her.” Luke 10:38-42 NLT

Mary discovered it—the one thing worth being concerned about.

Lord, let me discover it too!

Beware the Barrenness of a Busy Life

2010-09-08T10:03:00.002-05:00

This is a snapshot of the bulletin board in my office. Yes, that’s a napkin… Almost a year ago my hubby & I were at lunch with our spiritual mom and dad (in the pic above) and in the course of conversation Pops started writing on a napkin.

“Beware the barrenness of a busy life. Do what bears fruit with the seed of reproducibility.”

I thought it important enough to put in my purse that day, important enough to hang on my bulletin board for almost a year now.

And now, this week, those words of wisdom have returned to the forefront of my mind.

Over and over I keep hearing… slow down, be still, do less, rest in me, come away, quiet your heart…

But it’s hard! It’s hard to stop, to rest, to breathe. We run and go and do and where does it get us? Burned out. Washed up. Tired. Sick. Barren.

Barren (adjective):

1. Bare of vegetation having no trees or other growing parts

2. Not fruiting producing no fruit or seed

3. Unable to have children not able to bear children

4. With no useful result producing no valuable results or interesting effects

5. Lacking in something completely lacking in a particular thing

God, save me from such a life! I want growth, seeds, children (spiritual, not physical mind you!), and valuable long lasting Kingdom altering results!

Jesus said my life is to bear fruit. Fruit with the seed of reproducibility. But when I don’t abide in Him all my busyness is in vain.

Live in Me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only be being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me. I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you are joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown into the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon. This is how my Father shows who He is- when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples. I’ve loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love. John 15:4-9 The Message

It seems to me we often times have it all backwards. We fill our days, schedule our lives, and then stop for a moment to ask God to bless the work of our hands.

Abiding should be our preeminent goal. Above all else. We should guard it as if our lives depend on it… because they do!

Beware the barrenness of a busy life.

Abide in Him.

Rest in His love.

Then, and only then… do what bears fruit.

Then Jesus said, “Let us go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest a while.” Mark 6:31 NLT

Whooo Are You?

2010-08-31T18:42:00.002-05:00

When I was a little girl Alice in Wonderland was one of my favorite movies. It’s not surprising… for a girl with an imagination that liked to run wild.

When I found out they were making a new Alice movie I started counting the days. Finally opening day came and I headed to the theatre.

As the movie opens we find that Alice is all grown up. But strangely, magically, she finds herself back in Wonderland, only she doesn’t remember it. Doesn’t remember the Tweedles, the Rabbit, or the Red Queen. And even more disheartening… Alice doesn’t remember who she is.

But the others do… Hatter, the March Hair, Chess… they all remember her. And as they try to tell Alice who she is and why they needed her to return to Wonderland she adamantly denies that she is the girl they seek.

Fortunately for the little girl in me, Alice eventually remembers Whooo she is. She remembers the brave girl with the unquenchable curiosity. She remembers her friends, and her love for them. She remembers the Jaberwocky, the sword, and the power she has to slay the dragon. She remembers that she’s not the girl who fits in the mold. She’s the girl who stands out in the crowd. Who has crazy dreams. And who lives life with passion.

Lately I’ve found myself whispering the question “Who am I?” The world would like to tell me who I am. What mold I’m supposed to fit in. How I’m supposed to act. What I’m supposed to wear. What I’m supposed to say. And, like Alice, I’ve followed the world’s rules. Tried to fit in, not cause a scene.

But the whispering won’t go away… like Absolom whispering to Alice… God is whispering to me “Whooo are you?”

And I remembered… I’m the little girl who loves a good story. I’m the curious soul who loves to explore. I’m the dreamer who believes the impossible. I’m the brave one who loves to dance in the rain. I’m the daughter of the King, the princess in disguise.

I am Alice. And that Jaberwocky better hide.

I'd love to know... Whooo are you?

Go Play!

2010-08-27T15:39:00.002-05:00

Today I had the chance to do two of my favorite things… I went to lunch with my girlfriends, and I sat quietly surrounded by nature and poured my heart out on paper.

Too often I neglect the things that bring me joy.

But today I am thankful that I made time. Time to laugh. Time to connect with friend. Time to be quiet. Time to listen to God.

I know that when I get up from this computer there will be many things waiting to pull me in many different directions. Good things. But things that will stretch me. Demand energy of me. Things like thawing chicken, helping with homework, sorting whites and adding bleach, balancing check books, and feeding pets.

The “have to’s” of my day.

Most days I dread the “have to’s”. Most days I feel stretched too thin, like I have nothing left to give.

Today I feel full. Energized. Ready to tackle my list.

Why? Because I stopped. I made time for peace. I made time for joy.

What brings you joy? What fills your heart and gives you energy?

Is it journaling? Scrapbooking? A quiet walk? Talking to a girlfriend? Bubble bath? Crafts?

When was the last time you made time for what makes you smile?

What’s stopping you from making time today?

Go play!

Home

2010-08-20T08:26:00.007-05:00

Well I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.

Daughtry, Home

Home is sitting at the foot of the cross

Home is wrapped in my husband’s arms.

Home is Uno Flash at the dining room table.

Home is good night hugs, and whispered prayers.

Home is bubble baths with a brand new book.

Home is quiet worship in deep woods.

Home is tickle fights and Wii bowling.

Home is weeding flower beds.

Home is licking batter from bowls.

Home is fresh paper and my favorite pen.

Home is quiet coffee houses with favorite friends.

Home is head on pillow, Bible in hand.

Home is where His love is enough.

I don’t regret this life I’ve chose. But at times it’s draining. At times 4am gets old. At times I miss home. At times the business of life robs me of the simple joys of life. But, I’m going home. I’m taking time.

I’m going home to find refuge. To find strength. To find joy. Home refreshes and renews. Home equips us to live our life with no regrets.

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. learn the unforced rhythms of grace. Mathew 11:28-29 The Message

I’m going home.

Salvation is Calling

2010-08-16T08:18:00.002-05:00

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why are you troubled, O my heart?

Why are you fearful of winds and waves,

Of darkness and night?

Have you forgotten joy?

Have you misplaced peace?

Have you abandoned faith?

Lift up your head! Lift up your eyes!

Do you see Him?

Sleeping in the boat with you.

Put your hope in Him!

He is your refuge in the storm.

Look as He wakes.

Listen as He speaks.

Marvel as the wind obeys.

Rest in the peace He brings.

Fear not, sweet child.

For He has redeemed you.

He calls you by name.

He knows just where you are.

He will not abandon you

In the depths of the sea.

He will not leave you

In the raging fire.

Lift up your face.

Look to Him.

Salvation is calling.

Love waits for you.

But now, this is what the LORD says-- he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior… Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you… Do not be afraid, for I am with you… Isa. 43

Restless

2010-08-09T08:32:00.001-05:00

I’m pretty good at juggling. Always have been. I’m not sure if it’s just part of my nature, or if it’s something I developed after having 4 kids, a job, and ministry. Regardless, it’s a fact. But the last week the juggling that is usually a joy has become a strain. I feel like at any minute I’m going to make one wrong move and drop everything. And it’s stressing me out.

I can always tell when I’m overly stressed because I find myself clinging to my lifeline of music. I’ve always said life should be a musical, but in the trenches music moves from the background to the forefront. Friday God sent me a song. It’s beautiful, peaceful, full of hope!

Yet this morning I realized that there’s a big difference between a song and a musical. Songs are sung, musicals are acted out. And if I really want my life to be a musical then it’s time to put on my dancing shoes and put some action behind the words. It’s not enough to sing of resting in Him. I. Must. Rest. In. Him!

So today that is my goal. To stop juggeling long enough to rest. To find peace again.

Are you restless? Tired? Weary? If so I’d love to share my song with you…

Restless by Audrey Assad

Our praises filling up the spaces

In between the frailty and everything You are

You are the keeper of my heart

And I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

Oh God, I wanna rest in You

Oh, speak now for my soul is listening

Say that You have saved me, whisper in the dark

‘Cause I know You’re more than my salvation

Without You I am hopeless, tell me who You are

You are keeper of my heart

And I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

I wanna rest in You

Still me heart

Hold me close

Let me hear a still small voice

Let it grow

Let it rise

Into a shout

Into a cry

And I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

Oh God, I will rest in You

Lift Up Your Face

2010-08-05T09:32:00.000-05:00

Today I am weak.

Yesterday I fell.

Tiredness. Temptation. Testing.

Arrows from many directions sailed toward me. And for a moment, I dropped my shield and my heart was pierced.

Angry words.

Cold stares.

A sleepless night.

Morning came. And with it regret. Guilt. Sadness. Confession. Repentance. Forgiveness. Acceptance.

The cycle of life.

I desperately wish I wouldn’t fall. Wouldn’t speak angry words to innocent hearts. Wouldn’t let weakness cause my words to sting.

But it is here… in brokenness that I realize how much I need Him. How horribly things go wrong when I forget to depend on His strength.

And here… in my weakness He sings to me.

Joy Comes in the Morning

2010-07-29T07:34:00.003-05:00

The preverbal straw that broke the camel’s back showed up last night. It’s silly really. This little thing that went wrong. But it’s the last in a string of bigger things that have gone wrong this week. I feel like I somehow have stuck a stick in Satan’s hornets’ nest… and they’re after me.

Then this morning I log on to Facebook to see that I’ve been tagged in a note from a sweet friend who is also being chased by a swarm of hornets.

Her take on life?

Be thankful.

Ouch. I’m telling you, reading her list of blessings my pity party came to a screeching halt. Conviction wrapped its loving fingers around my heart, and I knew… I knew that God would not be honored in my whining. He would not be glorified in my complaining. I knew that my response to any situation could only be praise.

So without further ado…

Today I am thankful for notes from friends that remind me of a gracious God. The perfect song at the perfect moment. Friends who know the deep dark secrets, and love me anyway. My sweet boy when he wraps his arms around me. Blue skies and white puffy clouds. Sprinklers and green grass. Teenage girls who are more concerned with their reputation with God than their reputation with their peers. A youth pastor who loves unconditionally and pushes students out of their comfort zones. Comfy pjs. Borrowing shoes from my daughters. My super-styling minivan (with the window that won’t roll up). Guacamole. Hagen-Dazs Dulce de Leche. Girls Night out. Mommas that didn’t birth me, but love me like they did. High school sweethearts that still love you when you’re all grown up. A job that matters. Facebook. Words. A good book. A king size bed that holds one mom and three daughters. Intimate conversations between said mom and daughters on said king size bed. Church. Pot lucks. (seems appropriate that they be together) My iPhone. Thunderstorms. Lakes. Woods. Peace and quiet. Libraries. Long hot baths where no one knocks on the door. Opening my Bible and finding comfort, every time. Texting. Teenagers. (those two go together as well) Theatre. Musicals. Sonic’s happy hour. Suffering with hope. Never knowing oppression, hunger, or war. Pedicures. Journals and the perfect pen. Blogs. Knowing He loves me, even when I’m acting crazy. Knowing that He knew. Before I drew my first breath, He knew me. He had a plan for me. He called me and anointed me. Knowing that suffering may come… but joy always follows.

2010-07-27T06:33:00.003-05:00

"What ifs" and "you can’ts" are terrible things. They hold me hostage. Mock me.

What if I fail?

You can’t forget.

What if they laugh?

You can’t forgive.

They dig up my past and paralyze my today.

But what if I were free?

What would that look like?

What would that feel like?

Thinking about freedom brings to mind…

Little girls in spinning skirts.

Giggles. Dreams.

Cries of “push me higher” and “hold me daddy”.

Joy. Wonder.

Starry nights. Fairies and frogs.

Books under blankets.

Whispered secrets.

Buttered popcorn fingers. Sweet fizzy soda.

Popping gum and hopping scotch.

Prince Charming. White horses.

Castles. Queens.

Bedtime kisses and bedbugs.

Bare feet in the grass.

Ladybugs and fireflies.

Best friends.

Baby dolls.

Dancing. Skipping. Twirling.

Innocence.

But innocence has been lost. Childhood has been stolen. And the little girl’s dreams turned to nightmares along the way.

But what if…

What if innocence could be restored?

What if what was stolen could be returned?

What if nightmares turned to dreams?

What if Prince Charming was real?

I’ll tell you a secret… He is!

When you were a child, I loved you. I took you by the arm and taught you to walk. I led you with kindness and with love. But you rejected me. War visited you.

But I cannot let you go. I cannot give you up. My feelings for you are much too strong. I will heal you and love you without limit. I will be like the dew—then you will blossom like the lilies and have roots like a tree. I will lure you into the desert and speak gently to you. From that day on you will call me your husband. (from Hosea)

We’ve been locked in a tower. Our only company our fears. But there is a Prince. There is a knight in shining armor riding in on his white horse to save the day. He longs to rescue us. To redeem us.

To set us free.

Innocence restored. Dreams renewed. Princesses crowned.

Go ahead… twirl away!

Keep Out

2010-07-26T11:46:00.004-05:00

Lately I’ve noticed something in my heart that bothers me. It’s this innate reaction to keep people out. What is that causes me to put up a “No Trespassing” sign on my life?

In theory, I love people. And, in theory, I desire to be used by God to love people. But in reality, I shut the world out. I close the blinds. Don’t answer the phone. Look the other way.

Why?

Because I am afraid.

I’m afraid of meddling. Of butting my nose in where it doesn’t belong.

I’m afraid of not having the answers. Of being overwhelmed with the depravity of deep wounds.

I’m afraid of letting you down. Of letting you see my mess.

I’m afraid that I’m not good enough.

But then I read of one who wasn’t afraid. And one who was.

Jesus had no fear. He also had no walls. He loved people. Touched people. Meddled in their business.

Then there was Peter. He was afraid. He denied Christ. He ran away and hid.

And yet… Jesus called Peter. He sought him out. He appointed him as one to carry Hope into a Hopeless world.

And he did.

The man who denied Christ on the eve of his death, is the same man who proclaimed Christ on the day of Pentecost. The man who was quick to draw his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane is the same man who proclaimed to the cripple “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”

And therein lies my problem. My focus is on what I don’t have. And I easily forget what I do have.

I don’t have wealth. I don’t have a clean kitchen. I don’t have the right words. I don’t have it all together.

But I do have Hope. I do have Peace. I do have Life.

A few years ago God called me, like Peter, to proclaim the Good News. In fear my heart clung to Jeremiah 1:5-9. Today I was reminded of those words.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

Before you were born I set you apart.”

“Ah, Sovereign Lord” I said, “I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.”

But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a child’. You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you” declares the Lord.

Then the Lord reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, “Now, I have put my words in your mouth.”

The Lord says to me today…

Do not say,

I am afraid

I’m not good enough

I do not have

You must go. You must speak.

But don’t be afraid. You don’t walk alone.

I will rescue you. I will put my words in your mouth.

Tear down the “Keep Out” signs. Unlock the door to your life.

I know you. I set you apart.

Now… go!

I am a slinky...

2010-07-16T11:56:00.023-05:00

OK, not really. But I’m aspiring to be a slinky. That is my goal. Right now I’m more like a Jenga tower.

This confuses you? Me too. Allow me to (attempt to) explain through pictures!

My life is like Jenga pieces:

Each block represents a different piece of my life. There is my public life. My private life. My life as a mom. My life as a wife. My life as a girl who gets irritated and wants to say mean things to the checker at the grocery store. My life as an aspiring writer. My life as a speaker/teacher. My life as a worshiper. My life as a housewife/maid/cook…. As you can see there are many pieces of me. For a while now I’ve spent lots of time and energy trying to figure out which part of me fits into which block. Does the funny interaction with the kids get filed under “mom” only? Or can it also be filed under “radio host” or “blogger”? And how do I make sure that the irritable girl never gets filed under “public life” or “worshiper”. I tell you its exhausting trying to keep everything categorized.

Lately I’ve been feeling like it’s time to bridge the gap between “public” and “private”. After all, I keep praying for God to allow my life to be effective. And how can I be effective for His kingdom if I’m worried about categorizing my life and filtering every part of me. So, I thought maybe I should build a tower.

I attempted to stack the pieces up. Instead of being spread out everywhere and trying to keep certain things “separate” I tried to bring everything together into one cohesive unit. There’s only one problem with stacking blocks. Especially when someone as clumsy as me is involved.

Inevitably, something will happen to upset the delicate balance of block stacking.

And when that happens…

You’re left with a big mess.

So maybe the tower isn’t such a good idea after all.

Thankfully God likes to send people into my life that are smarter than me. Recently I had an amazing conversation with someone who told me that God wanted me to be a…

That’s right a slinky.

Here’s the thing with slinkys.

They are made up of many parts:

But they are all connected:

Slinkys aren’t fragile.

You can stretch them:

Twist them:

And hold them:

You can even drop them:

And they’ll always bounce back.

Slinkys are fluid:

In motion:

Always changing.

Yet staying the same.

This is my slinky. It sits on my desk. Surrounded by pieces of me. My computer, my family, my calendar, my memory verse. It sits there as a reminder. A reminder of who God made me to be.

A multi-layered, transparent, flexible, fun, and whole woman.

My name is Keri. And I am a slinky.

Wanna play?

Something to Wear

2010-07-12T09:06:00.002-05:00

Have you ever worn a jacket that doesn’t quite fit? Maybe the sleeves are too short, the shoulders too tight or the length just not right? I have. And I tell you, I turn into a fidgety mess. Pulling and tugging hoping that it will feel right if I adjust it enough.

Joy is like that for me.

It fits, but not quite right. It’s awkward, uncomfortable. But it looks good. When I go out I like to wear it. It makes others more at ease. But when given the chance I slip off Joy and hang it back in the closet. Then I slip into something a little more comfortable.

I wish this wasn’t so. I wish slipping into Joy was like slipping into my favorite pair of jeans.

I’ve tried to excuse it away. I’m a deep thinker, a ponderer, a reflector, a lover of stories and thus pain and sorrow are natural friends. I hold them close. Snuggle in them like a warm soft sweater on a crisp fall day.

But then I read of Jesus. Of Joy in suffering. Of Joy in pain. And I wonder… where can I buy this Joy?

Maybe it’s like a new pair of shoes. Maybe I just need to break it in. Wear it for a while. Maybe, then it will feel less foreign, more like me.

You May Say I'm a Dreamer

2010-07-07T07:35:00.005-05:00

I have big dreams.

Big scary dreams.

Always have. Years ago a friend said I reminded her of Joseph. A dreamer who is often misunderstood. For a while I had Gen. 37:19 (Here comes that dreamer) tacked to my computer. I’ve lost the post-it note with the scripture on it, but I haven’t lost the dreams.

They’re still there.

Lately my dreams have felt like sand. Big and vast yet slipping through my fingers. I feel like I can’t grab hold of anything. Like the harder I try to hold on to it the more it slips away. It’s exhausting, this grasping at sand. I’m working myself into a frenzy trying to fill my bucket.

But dreams weren’t meant to be carried in buckets. Dreams are meant to carry us. They are the path we walk upon.

The Wild Ride

2010-06-28T10:44:00.003-05:00

I LOVE roller coasters! I’m an official roller coaster junkie. We have actually planned vacations around new roller coasters. It’s sad really.

But there’s this moment…. you know the one I’m talking about. The moment between securing your seat belt and the first drop. It’s the giant climb up the GIANT hill. As the coaster click, click, clicks its way to the top of the hill I have me a “come to Jesus moment”. And it’s not a quiet, in my heart moment. No, this girl is making sure everyone strapped in with me is ready to meet their maker.

I don’t get it. I wait happily in line for hours. Grin from ear to ear when they strap me in. Then completely panic as we approach the crest of the first big hill. Every time I ride a coaster I have a moment of sheer panic where I am convinced that I. AM. GOING. TO. DIE!!!

I know it’s not true. I know that I’m not actually going to die. In fact I know that in about 3.2 seconds I’ll be having the time of my life. But I can’t help it. I can’t stop the panic from gripping my heart.

And right now, sitting at my perfectly safe desk in my perfectly safe office, I feel that panic. I can hear the click, click, click. I can feel the steady chug of the coaster pulling me to the crest of the hill. I feel the slight breeze, hear the nervous chatter, and see the clouds getting closer. In my heart the ride is just about to begin. And I am literally, physically trembling with anticipation.

I know it will be one wild ride. But, man, I’m sweating it.

Dear Miley, Rihanna, and Christina,

2010-06-22T12:15:00.001-05:00

I’ve noticed a change in each of you recently. I’m pretty sure it was intentional. Freshening up your image as you release your new albums. And I have to say, you’ve each produced some high quality, creative music. You are all very talented.

I wonder though, why the need to change your image? Why the need to change lyrics from your former creative expressions to line upon line of sexual innuendos? Who told you that in order to sell records you need not be only talented but also a “sex symbol”? Why the sudden plunge into this world of "less is more" and "everything in excess"?

Do you not know that you are of infinite value? Has no one ever told you that you are loveable, not as an object, but as a woman? Haven’t you heard that you can be strong, and beautiful, and talented without selling out?

And yes, I truly believe that the new sexy image you have created is selling out. I’m disappointed that I have to explain your behavior to my daughters. They looked up to you. They admired you. But now you have joined your voice to the countless other voices shouting to our girls that women are not to be honored and cherished, but that we are objects to be lusted after, used and discarded.

And it breaks my heart… it breaks my heart to see you trying so hard, when you needn’t try at all. Some have said that you are young women trying to “find yourself”. I understand that. I too have traveled that road. I pray that you find what you are looking for. I have a sneaking suspicion that if you ever do find the peace that currently eludes you that it won’t be found in your fame, but in your value. And not your value as an artist, or a sex symbol. But in your value as a beautiful, loved, child of God.

Because under the makeup, extensions, and high heels… that is who you really are.

~Keri

The Time In Between

2010-06-14T10:23:00.003-05:00

Francesca Battistelli writes:

Don’t take much for this crazy world
To rob me of my peace
And the enemy of my soul
Says You’re holding out on me
So I stand here lifting empty hands
For you to fill me up again

But it’s the time in between
That I fall down to my knees
Waiting on what You’ll bring
And the things that I can’t see
I know my song’s incomplete
Still I’ll sing in the time in between

I feel like this is where I am living right now. In the time in between. It’s a season of transition. Of change. Of sifting sand. My footsteps are unstable. The path before me dim.

It’s tempting to look back and cling to what was. It’s scary to look forward and anticipate what will be. So I wait, in between. Sometimes scared. Sometimes filled with wonder. Sometimes anxious. Sometimes at peace.

I know that this time, this in between time, is important. I know that it’s not about rushing to the “next thing”. I know that there is purpose for the grey space between the leaving and the arriving. This twilight of the soul, where darkness recedes and light begins to fill the sky.

Here I know that sunrise is inevitable. Here I know that morning will come.

Yet I linger. In the soft light of in between. Hushed and silent. Listening. Watching. Waiting.

Thankful, for the time in between.

... You can listen to Francesca's The Time In Between here.

All in the Family

2010-06-08T05:55:00.002-05:00

Confession…. When it comes to the “family of God” I’ve always felt like an outsider. Like I don’t really belong. Almost like an illegitimate child.

I’ve always been envious of those with a deep heritage of faith. Those whose parents & grandparents served the Lord. Those that were born into the family of God.

See, I wasn’t born into God’s family. My parents & grandparents didn’t raise me in church. I joined the family later in life. And unlike those born in, I’ve always felt like I haven’t quite earned my place just yet.

But I realized something this week… no one can be born into God’s family.

Hear me out.

We are all illegitimate children. Whether we were raised by alcoholics or preachers, we are all separated from God. We are all born into sin. And the only way that any of us can become part of God’s family is through adoption.

Joining God’s family is not through birth, but through choice. We must choose to allow Him to be our Father. He must choose to accept us as His child.

Do you realize what that means?

That means that I am just as loved as the pastor who stands behind the pulpit and preaches in the shadow of his father, and his father’s father. I am just as wanted as the missionary kid born in a remote village on the other side of the world. I am just as much His as the little girl who prayed to receive Christ while still too young to remember life without Him.

I am His. Not because of my parents’ faith. But because He picked me! He saw me, alone and orphaned, stuck in my sin, and he signed the papers and paid the price to make me His.

It’s just the way He does things… for each and every one of us. Regardless of our pedigree or our parents. Being born into a family that serves Christ doesn’t guarantee our place at His table; and being born into a family that doesn’t serve Christ doesn’t exclude us from becoming His.

Whether we were born in a palace or a pit we must all choose. And once the choice is made, we are His. Equally, fully, completely… Praise God!

“Even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in His eyes. God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure. So we praise God for the glorious grace He has poured out on us who belong to His dear Son. He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins.” Eph. 1:4-7

I'd like to take 2/3 of married women out for coffee...

2010-06-01T13:14:00.002-05:00

so we can have a little chat.

I found an article this morning. It has me good and mad. I was hoping to simmer down, but I haven’t yet.

Here’s some statistics from the article that have me all in a tizzy!

62% of women admit to fantasizing about having sex with someone other than their spouse, while one in ten has already done so
2/3 of married women would rather read a book, watch a movie, or take a nap rather than make love to their spouse

Let me get this straight… we’d rather read than make love to our spouse, but if Mr. Perfect were available we’d find the energy for him. Is it just me, or is this crazy?

Don’t get me wrong… I’m guilty. That book is quite appealing after a long crazy day. And temptation is something we will always wrestle with. Which is why it’s so important to deal with our run away thoughts. But the truth is; sex is important to our marriages.

Yes it can become a routine; yes we can be overwhelmed and not have the energy for it. But, ladies, if we’re going to invest our time and energy into something shouldn’t it be the guy we chose to love for eternity?

Fantasizing about Mr. Perfect isn’t going to strengthen our marriages. And for the record, the only difference between Mr. Perfect and your hubby is that he doesn’t live with you. Trust me the super sweet, compassionate guy at work or the gym or in the movie leaves his dirty underwear on the floor too.

There is no such thing as the perfect guy. One who will magically make your heart sing and all the cares of this world disappear. No, relationships don’t work like that. They take work. Lots and lots of hard, selfless, painful work. But it’s sooo worth it.

I love books. Really. I do. I collect them, treasure them, devour them. But sometimes, most of the time, the book needs to take a backseat to my lover.

Fantasy is so overrated. But a marriage that is filled with passion, now that’s something worth investing in.

Book Review~ Thin Places

2010-05-18T08:50:00.004-05:00

I'm too tired to think, much less blog. But I did just finish an amazing book that everyone needs to read.

I love to read! Books are treasured friends. And to be honest, I fall in love with most every book I read. So I'm a Publishers dream reviewer! :o)

But then there is the rare gem. The book that captivates you from page 1 and leaves you better than it found you. It's a book that doesn't leave your heart once you've finished it's pages.

"Thin Places" is one of those books.

Mary Demuth is an author, speaker, wife and mom. Her parenting books are perfect for any first generation Christian parents trying to find God's way in this crazy world. But the majority of her books are novels. Artfully written, compelling novels. This book is different. It is her memoir. Her story, in her words.

And let me tell you.... this lady has a heck of a story to tell. Abused, neglected, and lost Mary reaches back into the thin places of her childhood to search for the fingerprints of a Holy God in the midst of a tragic series of events.

If you've ever suffered. If you've ever questioned why circumstances happened to you, you need to read this book! I promise you will find healing for your soul from a girl who has "been there"!

If you read it I'd love to hear your thoughts! I hope it is as powerful for you as it was for me!

Details:

Mary's web-site: http://www.marydemuth.com/index.php

Thin Places preview: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LImEJ8om2qo&feature=player_embedded

A Letter

2010-05-12T15:27:00.003-05:00

We found an interesting question that we plan to use tomorrow morning as a fun conversation starter. It’s supposed to be lighthearted, but somewhat serious. The question is:

If you could travel back in time to when you were five years old to impart a single message to yourself that would enrich your life what would it be?

My short, fun answer would be: invest in Google. But I have a hard time with short and fun. I’m more of a “ponder till you find depth” kinda girl. So, my entire afternoon has been filled with thoughts. Permit me to write them down in letter form. Call it cheap therapy.

Dear 5 year old Keri,

Life is pretty good for you right now. You are deeply cherished by your family. Life is fun and carefree. But it won’t always be that way.

In about 10 years your family will disintegrate. It will be sudden, unexpected, and ugly. Instead of processing the destruction of your parent’s marriage, you will pretend that nothing happened. You’ll stuff your feelings, and put on a smile. This is the beginning of a habit that will stick with you into adulthood.

High school will pretty much suck. You’re dad’s drinking will get worse, your mom will be absent, and your brother will need you to take care of him. You’ll have to grow up really fast. And you will. You will step up and take care of the men in your life.

It’s not all bad though. While home life may be a mess, you do meet someone to help you. Jesus. You know all those questions you have about life and meaning? Well, Jesus is the answer. And when you finally meet Him... it will all make sense.

Another good thing happens in High School. You’ll meet someone and fall in love. Shortly after High School you will marry him. And you will be given ample opportunity to put those marriage vows to the test. There will be a lot of “worse” before there is a glimmer of “better”. You will push him away, afraid that he too will abandon you. Things will get really dark. So dark that you’ll want to give up. But don’t! Because one day you will find the light again. And something amazing will happen. You’ll discover a love that you never thought possible. A love that you’ve only read about in cheesy romance novels. One day you’ll quit pretending that you have a wonderful marriage, because you will actually have one.

You know all those things that you’re afraid of? Those things that keep you from sleeping at night? Most of them will never happen. Some will. You’ll lose your Noni to cancer. And you’ll miss her. You’ll miss her more than you can imagine. You’ll be broke. You’ll bounce checks. You’ll lose a job or two. You’ll be in a few car wrecks (your biggest fear at five). But you’ll survive it all. You’ll sit beside hospital beds of loved ones, stand beside graves, and wonder where God is. You’ll lose friends. You’ll be a crappy friend. But through it all, you will grow.

I wish I could tell you not to worry so much about what others think. You’ll waste a lot of time trying to make your parents proud. The truth is, for many years they’ll be too wrapped up in their own pain to even notice you. But they’ll come around. And they will one day tell you all the things you’re longing to hear. And those girls, the ones with flat tummies and perfect hair. Well, you’ll forget all about them. Those boys that look through you and the nights without dates, you’ll treasure those times. It’s the boys you’ll cling to to find your worth that you’ll regret.

Friends will be few and far between. The pattern you start in High School of keeping people at arm’s length will continue for many years. As a defense mechanism you’ll lock your heart up in a fortress, and you’ll push a lot of people away. But there will be a few who stick around. A few that will see through the pain enough to love you, in spite of you. Hold on to them. Trust them with your heart.

They’ll be good times too. You’ll get to be a momma. And it’s even better than you think it will be. You’ll get the “happily ever after”. Only it won’t look like what you think it will. It won’t be a perfect life. There will be no wealth, no picket fence, no elaborate vacations. But it will be a full life. Full of meaning, and joy, and love. Full of life. And it will be beautiful.

I’ve learned something recently about beauty. In the absence of the ugliness of life beauty is simply common. It is nothing to behold. It will not inspire you or take your breath away. But in the presence of lack, in the midst of the dark, ugly places in life... beauty is glorious. It is magical.
So I say to you, precious girl. Don’t hide your eyes from the darkness. Don’t try to avoid the things you fear. Because God will see you through and it will all be worth it one day.

Love,
Keri

Inspire Me

2010-05-11T18:45:00.001-05:00

I’m an information junkie. Always have been. I love to read and do research. I follow countless blogs, subscribe to too many podcasts, read magazines while waiting in line, keep a dictionary and thesaurus next to the bed…. It’s official, I’m a nerd.

Case in point…

Lately I’ve been wrestling with “information” verses “inspiration”. In true nerdy fashion I grabbed the dictionary.

Information- knowledge gained through study, communication, research, instruction, etc.; factual data; to supply oneself with knowledge of a matter or subject

Inspiration- to produce or arouse a feeling, thought, etc.; to influence; to animate; to guide or control by divine influence; to prompt or instigate utterances, acts, etc. by influence; to give rise to, bring about, cause; to breathe into or upon

It’s a lot easier to get information than to get inspiration. To get information I need only open a book, click on Google, listen to a podcast. I can gain knowledge while busy, distracted, or tired. I don’t have to plan for it. I don’t have to put much effort into it.

Inspiration, on the other hand, is a lot harder to come by. You can’t just decide to be inspired. You have to pursue it. Make time for it. For me it usually involves turning off computers, turning on some great music, and searching out beauty. Inspiration comes in moments of solitude. It comes in places filled with wonder.

Information awakens my mind.

Inspiration awakens my soul.

I long to be inspired.

Abandonment

2010-04-29T08:19:00.003-05:00

The last few months I’ve been fighting an overwhelming sadness about my children growing up. It’s like I’m being followed by a dark cloud that constantly reminds me that my time with them is almost over. It’s been such a strong message to my heart that I’ve subconsciously pulled away from them, protecting my heart from the separation to come.

Last night my husband called me on the carpet. I didn’t even realize how my heart was feeling, but he, in great wisdom, suddenly turned to me and said “You know, they’ll always be your girls. Just because your mom abandoned you doesn’t mean that you will abandon them.” Ouch. Sometimes the truth hurts. Always the truth heals. And my heart is both hurting and healed this morning.

Hurting for the little girl in me who still can’t process the why. Healed because of a God that’s big enough to give me lasting relationships with my own girls. Relationships that won’t be severed at 15, or 18, or any age.

God has done a lot of healing between my mom and I. And I am so thankful for the relationship that we have now. But nothing can bring back the years when things weren’t good… when she was absent in my life… the milestones of teenagehood that I walked through alone. And twenty years later it still hurts. Not all the time, and not to the degree that it did when it was fresh and raw… but it does still hurt.

The truth is… no child should ever have to process divorce or abandonment. But they do. The good news is… there is healing. For my heart, for my relationships, and for my future.

Light and Shadow

2010-04-27T10:13:00.003-05:00

(I promised more on Vegas... I got distracted, but here's my final thought)

The only difference between what happens in Sin City and what happens in my small town is location.

In Vegas sin takes place right out in the open, on street corners and public spaces. Here sin takes place in the shadows.

OK, so there aren't prostitutes on every street corner and strip clubs at every turn. But we have our fair share of sin. A national report just concluded that the state I live in tops the list for consumption of on-line pornography.

Sin is everywhere. Some communities just do a better job hiding it than others.

Or... we allow it to be in the open, we just don't call it sin. We call it gossip, or white lies, or looking out for ourselves. But God doesn't make distinctions between different kinds of sins. They all separate us from Him, they all damage our souls.

Here, in Northwest Arkansas, I may be able to hide my sin from you. But I cannot hide if from God. He sees. He knows. And He cares.

He cared enough to do something about it. The question is: What will I do? Will I accept the freedom He purchased for me and go and sin no more? Or will I reject the freedom He offers and continue to hide in the shadows.

Divorce

2010-04-26T11:26:00.003-05:00

My mom and I are a lot alike. We both like liverwurst, and won’t drink sweet tea. We’re both prone to pre-mature grey hair, and legs that people who love us call “athletic”. We both love a good book, and have an obsession with digging in the dirt and watching things grow.

I tend to follow her footsteps.

We both married at 18. Gave birth to our first babies at 20. Stayed home with our kids. Read books, baked cookies, kept journals.

This week I’ve been haunted by another milestone that is approaching. My 18th wedding anniversary. It was my parent’s last anniversary. Shortly after they celebrated 18 years of marriage they stood before a judge and asked to be freed from each other. My mom was 36, my current age. My dad was 38, my husband’s current age. I was 15, my oldest daughter’s current age.

The similarities mock me. And whispered lies fill my head. What if her reality becomes mine too?

Then my heart is drawn to this:

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” Isa. 43:18&19

A new thing.

A marriage that stands the test of time. A husband and a wife who grow closer through the years instead of apart. Who are faithful to each other, and committed to their God. Children who won’t come home from school and wonder where their mother is. Who won’t cry themselves to sleep at night feeling alone and abandoned.

Streams in the desert, springing up in me.

The truth is; I am a lot like my mom. But I am not my mom. I am me. And I can choose differently for my family than she chose for us. Not because of my own strength, or my own determination, but because of Jesus. Because He makes all things new… even this battered heart of mine.

Pursuit... Part 2

2010-04-19T09:11:00.004-05:00

(there will be more on Vegas... but today a side trip to expand on a previous thought)

In my last blog I made the statement that we were created to chase. And I believe it's true. Scripture confirms it. We all run after something.

Yesterday I was challenged by a scripture in 2 Sam. 18 "Come what may, I want to run." The person speaking those words had been discouraged from running. But still, he wanted to run. He knew he had to do what was in his heart regardless of whether his running was accepted by others, or if it meant running alone.

I too am called to run. God has put a passion in my heart that simply will not go away. This passion calls to me to leave the comfort of the sidelines and chase after Him.

It's hard sometimes. I'm a baby. In the physical world I can guarantee that you will never see me running (unless there's a very angry mama bear chasing me). I hate to run. Running involves work, effort, and my least favorite thing... sweat! Yuck!

In my spiritual life, sadly, I am much the same. I want to run for God. But, when the going gets tough, I'm looking for a hammock and a glass of lemonade.

Is it too much to just want a break? A little time out? A recovery period?

In the midst of my questioning I stumbled across this in Hebrews:

"Let us strip off every weight that slows us down especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us. So take a new grip with your tired hands and stand firm on your shaky legs. Mark out a straight path for your feet. Those who follow you, though they are weak and lame will not stumble and fall but will become strong."

Tired hands

Shaky legs

Yep. That pretty much sums it up. I'm tired, my faith is shaken. And all I want to do is sit on the sidelines. But I can't. Because I'm called to run this race. There are people following. And I have to take a new grip and stand firm.

The good news... God promises that we will not stumble and fall, but we will become stronger. If we don't quit running.

I have to confess... I hate the sweat, I hate the leg cramps, I hate that sometimes I have to run all by myself. But I can't stop running. Because in the running I find joy. I find life. I find my reward.

Pursuit…

2010-04-16T10:32:00.002-05:00

(more thoughts from Vegas)

One thing you can’t help but notice in Vegas is the pursuit. Pursuit of what? Well, I’m not sure. I don’t even think the people pursuing it know what it is that they are chasing. But they chase it none the less.

Whether it was alcohol, gambling, sex, or entertainment everyone seemed to be in pursuit. Crowds of people spending thousands of dollars searching for… something. Something to satisfy them. And unable to find it they continued their pursuit… to the next slot machine, the next drink, the next club. And on and on and on.

Except for me. There was no pull for me to gamble, to drink, to indulge. Because I’ve found the object of my pursuit. He lives and reigns in my heart. And while the lures of this word may still entice me, they have no hold on me. I can tell them “no”. I can walk away from temptation, completely satisfied in Christ alone.

Millions of people chase after things and experiences because there is a longing in their heart for something they can’t explain. I chase after God because He has filled the longing in my heart in ways I can’t explain.

Our hearts were created to be filled. We have the choice of what we fill them with, but anything we choose outside of God will quickly leave us filling empty and longing for more.

It seems as if we were created to chase. And if we have to spend our lives pursuing something… I plan on pursuing Him.

A stripper pole and a cross

2010-04-15T12:09:00.002-05:00

This week I was in Vegas for work. We stayed at a Hotel with a casino (I’m pretty sure that all hotels in Vegas have casinos). After a very long day of walking I decided to do one of my favorite things while vacationing…. people watch. If you love to people watch as much as I do then you MUST go to Vegas! Wow!

The Mezzanine level of the hotel overlooked the casino floor and was dotted with posh couches, the perfect place to rest my feet and indulge my eyes. As I scanned the casino floor lights and sound assaulted me. People were everywhere! From every walk of life. It was chaos.

As I continued to scan the room my eyes landed on something I wasn’t expecting... a dancer and a stripper pole. I immediately averted my eyes, but then I heard a gentle whisper, “Look at her”.

I assure you; I had no desire to look at the girl in the sequined hot pants and push-up bra hanging from a pole. But sure enough I heard it again, “Look at her”.

“God, why on earth would you want me to look at her?”

“Because I love her. Because I think she’s beautiful. I love her just like I love you.”

Just like me. He loves her just like me.

And I tell you, I sat in that casino and cried. Cried for a girl who doesn’t know that someone loves her so much that He chose to be beaten, chose to be mocked and scorned, chose to hang on a bloody cross and die so that she might live.

As I cried for her with the realization of how much the Father wants to cover her with righteousness I noticed others... watching her. A young family man at the slots stealing glances. College co-eds whistling and clapping. A middle aged drunk sloshing his drink all over himself as he glared, glassy eyed.

And I thought God must be mad at them, lusting after his daughter like that. But then I realized… He loves them too. He loves them just like He loves me. Even though they’re lost and broken, searching for something to satisfy them, oblivious to their own depravity.

Jesus bled for them too.

It was midnight. The girl’s shift at the pole was over. I wanted so desperately to talk to her. To tell her about the man who loved her enough to die for her. I tried to find her, to follow her, but she disappeared. Another girl took her place. A new group of college co-eds, drunks, and dads moved closer to the bar. The music continued to play. The moment passed.

But I will always remember that moment, where a stripper pole and a cross met in my heart.

Hold My Hand

2010-03-25T09:31:00.005-05:00

I had a bad dream. I nightmare really. It was one of those abstract dreams with no plot or storyline. It was simply darkness. Darkness that enveloped me… tangible, heavy darkness. It was terrifying.

But then in the darkness, there was a hand holding mine, and as fingers wrapped around mine peace wrapped around my soul. I couldn’t see the face or hear the voice of the person whose hand held mine. But instantly I knew… it was him.

It was the same hand that has been holding mine for the last two decades. Twenty years ago our hands met for the first time… his sweaty, mine cold and trembling. Eighteen years ago he held my hand again, whispered promises, encircled a finger with a thin band of gold.

Memories flood my mind. Emergency room corridors waiting for doctors to come. Small crowded hallways waiting for tornado sirens to stop. Standing beside freshly dug graves whispering final goodbyes. Every memory contains one constant, his hand… holding mine.

It’s the same hand that held my hair when morning sickness interrupted our every waking moment. That fed me ice chips and tirelessly massaged away labor pains. It’s the hand that held tiny bundles of love, changed nasty diapers, swung toddlers to the moon, steadied wobbly bikes, held fingers of twirling ballerinas, threw baseballs in backyards.

It’s the hand that squeezes courage into my soul, applauds my every victory, pushes me to chase my dreams, and catches every tear of my often emotional heart.

I know not what the future holds for us. But I know that I can face anything, with his hand in mine. One day (hopefully when both our hands are wrinkled and crippled with arthritis) one of us will have to let go.

But until that day I will hold tight! To you… my love, my lifeline, my friend.

Broken

2010-03-23T12:01:00.004-05:00

I'm broken.

That's hard to admit. But it's true.

It's nothing new. Hurtful words and broken promises cracked and shattered my heart.

When you look around you and find that you are surrounded by shards of glass you become fearful, timid.

My heart related to Humpty Dumpty.

He sat on a wall, had a great fall. And all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put him together again.

The same is true of me. I tried to put myself back together. I tried to let others put me back together. But nothing worked.

Exhausted we all gave up, me... the horses... the men.

That's when He came. The King Himself. He said He could put me back together, but it would take time. I would have to trust Him with all the broken pieces. I would have to give Him permission to poke and prod and fit the pieces back together.

It's painful stuff. Hurts sometimes. He says it's worth it. I think He's right.

I thought we were done. Recently I stepped back and looked at His work, it looked pretty good. I was impressed. Finally, we could move on.

But then... the rain came. And I realized that while I looked like I was just fine, there were cracks everywhere. Water spilled out faster than I could catch it.

I'm still broken.

But I'm better. No longer am I shattered shards of glass, now I am a vessel. Granted, I'm a cracked vessel, but a vessel none the less.

And this is where the healing begins. When you can admit the brokenness. When you can allow the light to penetrate the darkness.

He that began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. Phil. 1:6

Beautiful Ending

2010-03-16T11:15:00.004-05:00

Beautiful Ending
Barlow Girl

Oh, tragedy
Has taken so many
Love lost cause they all
Forgot who You were
And it scares me to think
That I would choose
My life over You
Oh, my selfish heart
Divides me from You
It tears us apart

So tell me
What is our ending?
Will it be beautiful
So beautiful?

So, I have to confess… I don’t know where to begin. All I know is that every time I hear this song something in me cries out to sit at the computer and pour out the pain in my heart. So here I sit. Full of thoughts, with no clue where to begin.

Several years ago I remember writing in my journal about how heartbroken I was at the news I had (once again) received about another minister who had fallen. The stronghold of sin had claimed another victim, and more of the people I loved were learning how to walk through the new reality of broken trust and shattered dreams.

My heart breaks now just thinking about it. Men and women that God had exalted to positions of leadership and influence, people I loved and respected, caught in their sin. And those of us who looked up to them left wondering… why did they fall?

The scariest thing to me is the knowledge that I am just one wrong choice away from the same reality. The truth is none of us are safe from sin. We will never overcome the fleshly desires of our heart. And when temptation meets opportunity each and every one of us have the potential to fall, and fall hard.

I understand the logistics of if. If you’re doing great things for God then the enemy will do everything he can to stop it. And what’s the quickest way to destroy a move of God? Ruin the integrity of the person leading the way. Trap the Pastor in sin, let the leader get caught in bondage, bring to light the musicians secret shame. We all know… nothing ruins a ministry like public humiliation.

So what do we do? How do we guard against the schemes of our enemy? How do we safeguard against the trap of sin?

Honestly… I don’t know. All I know is this, when I take my eyes off the cross and put them on ANYTHING else, I’m setting myself up for disaster. When I start to thing that I am above the temptation of sin, I’m walking right into a trap.

What is it that I want? What is it that I am going after? Is it fame? Fortune? Popularity? Recognition? Admiration? Love? Approval? Success? What is my goal? Because if my goal is anything but Christ… I- will- fall! He alone is able to keep me. And any sacrifice on my part, any price to stay in His arms, is worth it. Because…

At the end of it all I wanna be in Your arms

Nothing else matters.

So tell me… what is our ending? Will it beautiful?

Boldness

2010-03-12T10:28:00.004-06:00

For years I’ve been praying for boldness. Confidence to speak God’s truth in any situation. To be honest, it’s something I’ve struggled with. I tend to run from even the faintest hint of confrontation. Usually I back down instead of speaking up.

This weekend I am teaching at a ladies gathering, and this week has been horrible!!! It’s been one hard thing after another. I feel like I’ve been attacked from every angle. It’s been physically and spiritually exhausting.

The other day I was talking to a friend at work about feeling like I had nothing to offer to these ladies, yet I had to go deliver the word of God with boldness. His words of wisdom to me…

“maybe you should speak to them from your brokenness”

Not 20 minutes later I was on the phone with a friend who always tells me what I need to hear, even when it’s not what I want to hear. I shared this little pearl of wisdom and he agreed. Yet also told me exactly what I’ve been wrestling to find the answer too…

there's a boldness that comes from arrogance and there is a boldness that comes from brokenness.

I can’t quit thinking about his words. I’ve known so many people who were bold in their faith, yet after spending time with them all I can think is that they are full of themselves and arrogant. Then… there are the people who have walked through trials and pain with Jesus and have a confidence that radiates from them. They are the people that I can’t wait to spend time with. When they talk I hang on their every word.

That is the boldness I want. Boldness that is birthed from my brokenness. Boldness that points to God’s mercy and grace, and not to my own strength.

God's words says that if we humble ourselves He will exalt us. The reverse is also true... if we exalt ourselves He will humble us! I pray that my confidence will always be a result of His power, never of my own.

There’s an old song that says “the only thing that’s good in me is Jesus”. It’s true. And that truth…

That I can boldly proclaim!

If My People...

2010-03-11T11:14:00.001-06:00

Tonight we are airing an hour show about pornography addiction. This morning driving in to work I was praying about the show. And my heart was broken.

I don’t have a problem with the world’s obsession with pornography. (Don’t stone me just yet, let me explain) I’ve never really had a problem with sinners acting like… well, like sinners.

They’re in bondage, they are separated from God. They’re supposed to act wicked. We did too, before we were set free from our sin.

The slavery of pornography in the world hurts my heart because it separates people from God. Pornography in the church grieves my heart because we’ve been set free, yet we still choose to live as slaves.

“But YOU are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light.” 1 Peter 2:9

WE belong to God, they don’t. We are supposed to be different, set apart, holy. What does it say of our God when statistics show that the number of men and women who regularly view pornography is virtually the same for those in the church than those outside the church? What does it say of us when the divorce rate in the church is the same as the divorce rate outside the church? How are we any different than the world?

Time and time again, Old Testament and New, God warned his people against sexual sin. He hates it when the corruption of the world penetrates our churches. And it has. We have invited sin in our churches. Four out of every 10 pastors have confessed to visiting an adult web-site at least once a week. We have invited sin into our homes. Seven out of 10 men and 3 out of 10 women in the church have admitted viewing pornography at least once a week.

And it’s wrong.

It’s not wrong because it’s on a list of “unacceptable Christian behavior”. It’s wrong because it breaks the heart of a Holy God who died a painful death so that we could be set free.

“If MY people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” 2 Chronicles 7:14

If we want God to remove sexual sin from America it will not be done by us protesting certain movies, or writing letters to editors. It won’t be accomplished by us lambasting sexually saturated advertising. If we want God to heal our land then WE have to repent. We, God’s people, the church. God is not calling unbelievers to repentance; He is calling HIS CHILDREN to repentance.

We may never be able to rid the world of sexual immorality, but shouldn’t we at least be able to rid the church of it? And who knows, maybe if we were different, if we were set apart, maybe then the world would notice. And maybe then they’d listen to the Good News we have to share.

(you can throw your rocks now)

It's supposed to be Hard

2010-03-10T09:27:00.003-06:00

Remember the movie from the early 90’s A League of Their Own? It’s about two sisters who join an all female baseball league during World War II. The older sister, played by Geena Davis, is by far the better player and soon becomes the star of the league. Her team is doing well and makes it to the league’s first World Series. Days before the series begins, her husband returns home from Germany after being wounded in the foot. By this time it is obvious that she loves baseball and is passionate about the game. Watching her play it is obvious that she was made for the game of baseball. When her husband returns home she decides to quit the league and return home without playing in the World Series. Her manager, played by Tom Hanks, tries to talk her into staying. He tells her that it’s obvious that she loves baseball and if she quits now she will live with a lifetime of regret. She answers, “It just got too hard.” At that moment he gets very serious and leans in closer and says, “It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard... is what makes it great.”

It’s supposed to be hard.

We live in a culture that says it’s supposed to be easy.

Grey hair? Nice ‘n Easy

Sagging skin? Two minute facial mask

Hungry? Hit the drive through

In a hurry? On-line banking

Tough boss? Get a new job

Failing marriage? Get a new spouse

Browse through the Sunday adds and over and over you’ll see it: Quick! Easy! Time saving! Oven ready! Just add water! Instant! Fully cooked!

Everything around us tells us life should be easy. Except the Word of God.

God’s Word tells us it’s supposed to be hard.

Wait. Pray. Seek. Persevere. Press.

Trust. Follow. Deny. Fight. Run.
Turn from sin. Crucify your flesh. Carry your cross.

Turn the other cheek. Give to the poor.

Love your enemies. Speak the truth.

According to the Bible life is hard. And I’ve noticed that the more you trust God, the bigger risks you take in following Him, the harder it gets.

Thursday night we will air a show dealing with a subject no one wants to talk about. We’re marching up to the gates of Hell and shining the Truth of the gospel on one of Satan’s most powerful strongholds. And it’s been HARD!

We’ve faced sickness, family crisis, equipment failure, and the list goes on and on.

Is it hard? Yes

Am I afraid? Shaking in my boots

Is it safe? Absolutely not

Is it worth it? Yes. Yes! A thousand times yes!

Why? Because it’s the hard that makes us lean on Jesus. It’s the hard that makes us bow our knee in surrender. It’s the hard that makes others pay attention. It’s the hard that brings forth fruit. It’s the hard that brings glory to Christ.

It’s the HARD that makes it GREAT!!!!

If my choice in life is easy and average or hard and great…. Lord, LET ME CHOSE HARD!!

Retreat... Surrender... Advance...

2010-03-02T08:53:00.003-06:00

Retreat- the forced or strategic withdrawal of an army or an armed force before an enemy; the act of withdrawing, as into safety or privacy

Surrender- to give oneself up, as into the power of another; submit or yield

Advance- to move or go forward; proceed

I just returned from a four day retreat. Spiritual retreat, not military retreat. But I think there is something to be gleaned from these military terms.

After all, sometimes life feels like a battle that’s gotten out of control. At least it does for me.

So many times we see retreat as a sign of weakness. We didn’t have the strength to fight anymore so we had to withdraw. And… it’s true. Often times we don’t’ have the strength to keep fighting because we are weak. Why is that so hard to admit? That we need rest, we need to back away from the fight?

The truth is… unless we retreat we will never win. We will lie there on the battlefield battered and bleeding until the very life we are fighting for slips away.

The key to being a good Commanding Officer is being able assess the moral of his troupes to determine if the battle can continue or if he should sound the retreat. The key to being a good soldier is obedience to the orders of your Commanding Officer. When God tells us to retreat, then honey we need to high tail it off the battle field and look for a place to hide!

Which brings us to step two… surrender. When dealing with military terms surrender is the worst possible outcome of any battle. But, when dealing with our relationship with Christ, surrender is the absolute best possible outcome. It is only when we surrender fully and completely to Him that we can be ready to face the battle. And nine times out of ten surrender only happens in moments of retreat, in places of safety.

Once we allow ourselves to retreat and surrender something amazing happens. Peace that is unexplainable wraps its arms around us. Everything in us wants to stay in that place and never leave. But the purpose of retreat is not retirement. The purpose of surrender is not to stop. The purpose is to get back up and get back in the battle. Only this time, we don’t fight alone. Sometimes we don’t fight at all; we simply stand in amazement and watch the mighty hand of God fight on our behalf.

Where are you today?

Is the battle raging around you? Is your sword too heavy to carry anymore? Retreat!

Are you hiding in fear from the battle but still clinging to your rights, your plans, your desires? Surrender!

Are you in a place of peace and surrender, refusing to get back into the fight? Advance!

There are seasons for each of these places. Appointed times for each of us to retreat, surrender and advance. The cycle repeats itself often. Only when we are listening to His voice can we know where we are supposed to be. Enjoy each part of the journey. They are all equally sweet and equally necessary.

Retreat

2010-02-24T08:29:00.002-06:00

It's Wednesday.

Tomorrow I leave town for 4 days to go hide. And let me tell you, it can't get here a moment too soon.

Several years ago I started setting aside a few days every year for a prayer retreat. Last year I didn't make it. I thought it was no big deal. I was wrong.

Life is busy. Crazy busy. My days start at 4am, I'm very rarely in bed before 9pm. My calendar is full. And life is just draining. No matter how hard you try to protect your sanity.

The though of 4 quiet days fills my heart with such a deep longing. It truly is the best thing I do all year.

So... I'm off. Today will be a whirlwind, tying up loose ends at work, packing, making sure there's food for the kiddos to eat while I'm gone. And then tomorrow.... Well, we'll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.

Can't wait!!

Have you ever gone on a prayer retreat? How did it change your life?

If you've never been on a retreat, what's stopping you? Time? Money? Responsibilities? Can you trust God to work it out for you? Every woman needs a time to refresh!

Come Play

2010-02-17T15:57:00.003-06:00

The sun gently warms my skin, the wind, swirling, whispers “come play”.

I stand with toes in sand, ball of string in my hand, kite at my feet. The wind picks up pieces of my hair, gently dances across my skin enticing, alluring, “come play”.

I lift the kite in my hand, the wind catches it. They dance together. My kite and the wind.

Slowly I unwind string from the ball in my hand. “Higher! Higher!” the wind sings. “Further! Further!” the kite calls.

I unwind. Faster now. Loop after loop string passes through my open hand. Throwing my head back I laugh as I watch my kite skitter and glide across blue skies.

The ball of string grows small in my hand as the kite climbs higher and higher.

The wind changes course, the kite dives. Dark clouds rush in. The wind laughs. A sinister, mocking laugh. The kite pulls, fights, threatens to break away.

Digging my heals in the sand I struggle against the wind, against the kite.

Pulling, fighting, bleeding I try to reel it in. Tears mix with rain. Thunder and lightning. Darkness and shadow. And the kite… swirling, dipping, diving.

Footsteps. A hand. A warmth. Papa is here. He takes the string from my hand. My eyes turn away. Shame on my face.

“It’s OK” He whispers. To me.

“Be still” He whispers. To the wind.

Slowly I raise my eyes to His. He smiles. I smile. The kite slows, steadies. The winds whisper and dance. My hand rests in His. My head on His shoulder. And slowly He winds the string into a ball in His hands.

“We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.” 2 Cor. 10:5

Thoughts are fickle things. So many of them are good. So many of them are dangerous. It’s fun to think of things we shouldn’t. It’s stimulating. Empowering. What’s wrong with a little worry, a little fear, a little doubt, a little fantasy, a little longing?

It’s no big deal.

Until we lose control. Until we realize that the thoughts we entertain in our mind separate us from a Holy God. Until we realize that the path our thoughts have led us down have led us away from truth.

Our thoughts seem harmless. But they’re not. Our thoughts are the first step down the path of destruction. God wants us to take our thoughts captive. He wants us to submit our minds to Him. Because left to my own devices my thoughts will lead me deeper and deeper into a trap of sin. But, if I submit my thoughts to Him, if I freely give Him control of my mind, He will lead me deeper and deeper into His arms of love.

Captive thoughts will make you free.

Rock Star

2010-02-10T10:47:00.003-06:00

Friday night we hosted several artists for an incredible night of worship. We invited a few guests to join us for dinner and an opportunity to meet Todd Agnew. Our guests were so excited about getting to meet him. And while it was a great night, for those of us working the event, it wasn’t really a “big deal” getting to meet Todd. Spending time with recording artists is part of the job. Granted, it’s one of the cooler parts of the job. But after a while it can become routine, commonplace even. But… for fans who don’t get to spend their days interviewing artists and working back stage at concerts, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

This morning driving in to work I was thinking about my relationship with God and started wondering if it’s become routine, commonplace, no big deal. The honest truth is… in many ways it has.

I’m used to Him. Used to hanging out with Him, talking to Him, reading about Him. I know all the stories written about Him. I’ve heard practically every sermon that can be preached about Him. I spend my days telling others about Him. And in the routine of following Christ, I’ve become numb to the wonder of who He really is.

Last Friday night people rearranged their schedules, took off work early, got babysitters, all so they could spend 30 minutes with a recording artist. Yet, almost every day, I hit the snooze button and fall back asleep instead of getting out of bed 30 minutes early to sit in the presence of the King of Kings. I rationalize my snooze button routine by saying; I’ll do it later. I’ll read my Bible at lunch. I’ll pray in the car. It’s no big deal.

It’s no big deal.

When did spending time with God become “no big deal”?

I wonder how God would feel if I treated Him like a Rock Star? If I was as in awe of Him as I am in awe of my favorite artists (yes… that would be Third Day!)? Trust me, if Mac Powell was coming to the studio you’d better believe I’d jump out of bed early!!

The truth is, it doesn’t matter if I ever meet Mac, or Todd, or ___________(fill in the blank of your favorite singer).

What does matter is if I meet Christ.

Here I Am

2010-02-08T11:23:00.003-06:00

Have you ever felt lost?

Not the "maybe we should stop for directions" kind of lost. But the "I have no idea what to do" kind of lost?

Lately.... I've felt lost. Not overwhelmingly so. But enough to cause increased prayer & journaling.

You see, there are choices that need to be made. Things that need to be decided. New opportunities that I'm unsure of.

And so... I'm seeking. Looking. Waiting.

This weekend, in my wanderings, I stumbled upon a place. When I entered in I discovered that I was no longer lost. I knew exactly where I was. I knew exactly who I was.

It was wonderful. Glorious. Blissful. And for a moment... the veil of confusion was lifted.

I didn't find the answers to my questions. The questions simply left my mind. And for a moment I was lost in being found.

Where was I?

At His feet. Bowed in worship. Basking in His love.

For there, in His presence, nothing is lost.

The Red Pen

2010-01-28T09:54:00.002-06:00

This is probably the scariest post I’ve ever written. I broke into a sweat the moment I approached the keyboard with the decision made to go down this path.

My friend Holley has challenged all of her blogging friends to a 21 day challenge of writing the rest of our stories with Jesus. Each day she posts about an area of our life to think about and meditate on, then she asks one or two questions of us. The answers to those questions will begin to map out the story of our lives. (If you’d like to join us on this journey you can do so here)

I avoided the challenge at first. But over some really good Mexican food I caved. It’s a lot easier to delete an email than to look a fellow traveler in the eyes and say no. (Thanks Holley!)

So here I am, 3 days into the challenge with a racing heart and sweaty palms.

Today Holley wrote:
As women, it seems we're standing ready with our red pens. Rather than loving words, we want to cross through parts of who we are and rewrite until we're someone else.

But God seems to like who He made us in the first place. He just wants us to be that woman for Him.

The goal isn't eliminating parts of who we are but rather letting God gently move us closer to the positive in our stories.

So why I am so scared? Because the part I want to edit I now need to face. All my life I feel as though I’ve been trying to run away from who I am. I try to hide, slip into the shadows, shrink down, and become small. But, God keeps pushing me into the spotlight and telling me to shine.

That is my greatest fear. My most difficult challenge.

On the wall beside me is a bulletin board filled with pictures, flyers, mementos, and such. And smack dab in the middle, on a tattered piece of paper sits this:

Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is out light, not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone.

And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear our presence automatically liberates others.

It’s not that I don’t want to shine, I do. I want to do great things for God. I want to be a light. But… what if I fail? What if I let you down? What if I mess up? What if, after you see me, you reject me?

It’s a lot easier to hide our shortcomings in the shadows than the spotlight. It’s a lot easier to appear to have it all together when viewed from afar than up close. It’s a lot more comfortable to work out your “stuff” alone with God that to confess it to the world.

If I could pick up the red pen and re-write my life I’d edit out the spotlight. I’d step into the shadows, where it’s safe.

The only problem with that is that God has not called us to a life of safety. He’s called us to a life of obedience.

So today, instead of running, I choose instead to release my grip upon the pen… to allow His gentle hands to take it from me… to give Him the right to edit my life.

Is it OK that I am still afraid?

Beautiful

2010-01-27T11:18:00.002-06:00

When we think of beauty we usually think of sunsets, butterflies, flowers. Sometimes it’s a sleeping baby, or the steady gaze from your true loves eyes.

Rarely do we think of sickness, disease, destruction, and death. But in the midst of the ugliest parts of life there is a deep beauty that often takes us by surprise.

This week has been filled with the hope of the gospel. And it’s beautiful. Breathtaking.

It’s in the face of a smiling child, rescued from poverty. No longer an orphan.

It’s in the touch of a loving husband whose marriage is restored. No longer living a lie.

It’s in the eyes of a peaceful mom, whose abortion led to her salvation. No longer living in shame.

Over and over again, beauty cries out to us amidst the ashes. Death bringing forth life. Light breaking through the darkness. Joy birthed in sorrow.

And this is the hope of the gospel.

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has

anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent

me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the

captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to comfort

all who mourn, to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise

instead of a spirit of despair.” Isa. 61

Louis has a new home... and so do I.

2010-01-21T17:10:00.001-06:00

It's 5 o'clock on Thursday and I just received an update that my friends, the Tugwell's, are on their way home with Louis. (If you haven't heard their story you can get caught up here)

This morning Lori & Noel stood on American soil, surrounded by beauty and safety and all the comforts this great Nation contains. But they, without hesitation, hopped on a plane and traveled to a land overcome with destruction and despair. They traveled through wreckage and faced danger all so they could hold their son in their arms.

As I type these words Louis is safe on a plane, flying to his new home. No longer a citizen of Haiti, but of America. All because he was loved, he was wanted, he was pursued.

I can't help but think of another Father who choose to leave the land of His citizenship and travel to a depraved world to rescue another child. That child was me. And like Louis, I will wait here in this orphanage called life until He comes to bring me home.

Today I saw the miracle of adoption.

And it made me long for Home.

The Need is Not the Call

2010-01-19T11:34:00.002-06:00

Lately I keep hearing a phrase “the need is the call” but I disagree.

I think that believing that the need is the call is what gets us trapped in positions that suck the life out of us and rob us of the joy of serving Christ.

The call should birth joy, excitement, passion, and zeal. Not obligation, exhaustion, and frustration. So many times we say yes to a need when we’re really not called to meet that need.

For example… the church nursery needs help, they are desperate, and they’ll put anyone in there. You break out in hives every time you’re around a crying baby. But you feel bad, they need help. So you say yes.

Should we serve? Absolutely. Should we be sensitive to the needs around us? Of course. The danger is in thinking that we are the answer to every need. We aren’t. I believe that we are the answer to one, maybe two, very specific needs. And when we figure out what the need is that God has called us to answer… (cue angels singing the hallelujah course here).

Believing that “the need is the call” says that we don’t trust that God is big enough to bring the right person at the right time to meet that need.

Believing that the call is the call aligns us to fulfill God’s purposes in ways that are so much bigger than we are.

We say yes to the need out of guilt. We say yes to the call out of love.

The need is great, but the call is sovereign. Pray about the need, fulfill the call. Chase God, pursue the Holy Spirits leading. And watch with wonder what God will do.

Suffering...

2010-01-14T10:38:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite lines from the Star Wars movies is when Yoda says to Anakin “Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering”.

I’m not sure how theologically sound that is, but I still get a chill every time I see Yoda’s gnarled green finger pointing at Anakin as he says those words. I think the thrill comes from knowing what the future holds for Anakin. Yoda’s words to him are prophetic. And Anakin’s fear leads him down a path of destruction. But it’s all OK, because just a few episodes later Luke will arrive on the scene and restore order to the Galaxy.

Ah… The magic of Star Wars.

If only real life was that simple.

Suffering is great, as a plot to a movie. But in reality… suffering is… well, painful. The scary thing is, the more I read God’s Word the more I realize that suffering is not only unavoidable, it’s to be expected. In fact, God says that unless we share in suffering we cannot share in His glory (Rom. 8:17).

Knowing that suffering is unavoidable doesn’t make it any easier to handle. When we turn on the news and see the devastation of earthquakes and famine. When we answer the phone and hear about a husband who’s decided he doesn’t feel like being married anymore. When the report says cancer. When the letter says foreclosure. When suffering comes we cry out… WHY?

Why would God allow this to happen?

The truth of the matter is, it’s me that allows it to happen. My sin. My depravity. My rebellion. I am the catalyst of suffering in this world. Were it not for sin, we would still live in the perfection of Eden. And we can blame it on Adam all we want, but in the end I’m responsible too.

Here’s the good news. The suffering of this world is not the suffering of one without hope. It is the suffering of one who will soon give birth. Our groanings and trials will lead to new life. The earth’s labor pains cry out to us, “This is temporary! There is more to come! There is a New Heaven and a New Earth. One day God will again dwell with man!”

That is our hope. It is our future. A future without pain, or tears, or suffering. A future with no orphans, or widows. The question is… are our hearts wrapped up in eager expectation of that future hope, or are we obsessed with fretting over our current sufferings?

I thnk I need a change of heart…

Walls

2010-01-08T15:45:00.002-06:00

The last few weeks God’s been impressing upon my heart that it’s time to tear down the walls.

We all have them. Walls we’ve built. Some are taller and deeper than others. But if we were honest we’d all confess to at least a few extra bricks surrounding our hearts.

We build our walls with good intentions. We desire protection, safety, security. None of these desires are wrong. It’s the bricks we use that are the problem.

Brick after brick of fear… isolation… anger… hurt…

One by one they are pieced together until the world is shut out.

Pastors, counselors, and good friends will tell you walls are bad. But I think… maybe… that I disagree. Allow me to explain.

I was listening to a CD recently when a line from one of the songs jumped out at me:

Your walls are Salvation, Your gates are praise.

I googled it… It’s actually scripture. The words are found in Isaiah 60:18.

My walls are fear.

My gates are isolation.

God’s walls are salvation.

His gates are praise.

In ancient times city walls were immensely important. They protected the city. Provided safety and security to all who dwelt there. The gates were guarded and no one was allowed to enter the city walls without permission.

Imagine your heart as a city. In it dwells your emotions, your desires, your dreams. Imagine giving that “city” to God. Imagine Him building a wall of protection around that “city”. I imagine He would take great care in constructing that wall. Using bricks of love, peace, joy. Carefully fastening gates. Patiently building a watchtower. Then upon the completion of that wall He would take His place in the watchtower, guarding the gates to the city. All who entered must pass through his critical gaze. All who come in must first gain His permission.

What if we didn’t have to spend our days watching and guarding. What if we didn’t have to spend sleepless nights restacking bricks. What if we could simply rest, laugh, and love trusting that whatever enters has first passed through gates of praise.

A few verses earlier in Isaiah it says “your gates will always stand open, they will never be shut day or night”. How can we accomplish that? How can we live with an always open heart?

We doing it by tearing down the walls built by our own hands and hiding our hearts behind walls of salvation. We do it by walking away from our post as the guardian of our hearts and allowing Him who never sleeps nor slumbers to take watch. We do it by trusting that whatever He allows to enter through the gates of praise, though it may be painful, will ultimately bring glory.

It’s not the wall that’s the problem. It’s the builder.

Who’s building your wall?

Happy New Year!

2009-12-31T08:43:00.002-06:00

It’s the last day of 2009. I’ve spent the last few minutes re-reading some of my blog posts for the last few months. Ugh. Pretty ugly. But needed. Healing can’t come until it’s first brought to light.

I’ve been reading Spurgeon’s Morning by Morning. Yesterday’s devotion was incredible, and timely.

“That rough looking diamond is put upon the cutting wheel. He cuts it on all sides. It loses much—much that seemed costly to itself. The king is crowned, the diadem is put upon His head with trumpet’s joyful sound. A glittering ray flashes from that crown, and it beams from the very diamond that was so sorely troubled by the cutting wheel. Let faith and perseverance have their perfect work, for in that day when the crown is set upon the King’s head, one ray of glory will stream from you.”

The last few months I have felt like that diamond. Like pieces of me are being cut away. Pieces that seem precious and costly to me. But there is a purpose to the purging. There is a revealing that is taking place. A beauty that is being created. And who am I to question the artist?

The thing about diamonds… sometimes to the naked eye they seem perfect. But through the jewelers loupe subtle imperfections become visible. If there’s something in me that is keeping me from shining for Christ, then I want it gone. Cut it out, sand it down, polish it away. Even if it hurts.

This is the process I am currently in.