I couldn’t sleep Sunday night. I was at the end of a fabulous read and continued turning pages to find the conclusion. My head ached a bit and I could not stop thinking about the candle in the kids’ bathroom. Had they blown it out?
I would dismiss the concern and go back to my book, but the flame of the candle was very present in my mind.
Finally around 2:45AM, I put the completed book down and went to double check the candle. The children had obediently blown it out as directed. I was thankful and headed back to my pillow to find sleep. Jeff had been resting for about 45 minutes and I could tell by his breathing that deep sleep had found him. I closed my eyes in the stillness but could not drift off.
Just after 3AM, my phone beeped that a text message had come through. I did not get up immediately, wondering what meandering text was finding me at so early an hour. I was still wide awake though, and Jeff asked about the noise, so I got up to check the message.
My heart began to race as I saw the Johnson’s name (missionaries with World Harvest Mission in Bundibugyo) on the message and not the Sports Report on soccer scores I expected to quickly delete and go back to bed.
It seemed to take forever for the message to display. The first sentence read,
“The Chedester’s house in on fire….”
I called Jeff’s name and read the alarming words. My husband stood up immediately from the bed and said, “I’m going.”
He was in gear and out the door before I could find a sweater and shoes.
I handed him Kinley’s phone and kissed him goodbye, then began to pray.
My heart was pounding, but there was silence and stillness around me. The house, vacated by the Chedester family two years ago was to be the new home for their teammate and our dear friend, Pat Abbott. I was not aware of anyone sleeping in the home currently, but did not know for sure.
I knew Jeff would not be able to call me, but I longed for information and prayed for the safety of everyone on the scene.
After two and half hours, my phone rang and Jeff’s voice told me everyone was safe, but the house had been destroyed.
He was winded as he talked and heartbroken that he couldn’t save the house. He said that as he drove up to the house several hours ago, every room already glowed red.
He had arrived at the same time as the fire truck from town. (The fire truck is a new addition to the Ft Portal community. Jeff has petitioned for fire services, gathered fire gear and taught fire safety for many years. We currently await funds to ship a donated fire truck from the States.) There were two men with the truck who eagerly accepted Jeff’s offer of help. They entered the house with a hose and fought the fire, working to quiet the hot spots as the flames died down.
Jeff said that he was coming home to refresh, call Bundibugyo and that we could return at daybreak to begin salvaging what we could.
His call to the Johnson’s was short. We were all shocked and sad.
Jeff’s adrenaline was still pumping full as he relived the firefight and I made him tea. How many times we’ve played this scenario. He paces the kitchen telling me every detail he can recall from the latest happening. I stand over the kettle, praying and praising and beseeching our Father who never fails.
As I found clothes and thick soled boots, Jeff showered, changed into new gear and found gloves and tools we might need. My heart weighed so heavy.
With every prayer a plea for us to find that which would matter to Pat Abbott. Her belongings filled the home in preparation for a new life and ministry in Ft Portal. She has lived in Uganda 17 years and so her history had awaited her home-leave return in plastic trunks, suitcases and boxes.
I knew we needed to talk to the Chedesters too. And my heart broke for them. We watched them plan and birth this home from the grading of the land to the foundation to every detail Bob meticulously toiled through. This would be an emotional loss and I hated that pain for them already.
The house felt like an oven when we entered. The ground was charcoal and ashes. Some places even glowed red where heat smoldered. The walls could not be touched and standing within the walls had the effect of a sauna.
We started in the office. Jeff quickly uncovered, beneath the ashes, some melted stacks of pictures. We were encouraged to find something. I put on my gloves and began to gingerly sort through the charcoal and ashes at my feet.
Cards, letters, the charred remains of books. We made stacks of what we might salvage and laid aside that which was unidentifiable.
With every sifting a prayer. ‘Lord show us what matters to Pat and help us know what to keep. Protect the precious things from looters. Help us, here.’ As we dug, I pictured the room as it was when the Cheds lived here. We wrote emails at the desk in the alcove when our computer broke or phone was down, Bob and Jen served their team with countless administrative tasks in this space, and once during a dinner party I found one of our baby boys (Alex?) swallowing Uncle Bob’s pills on the floor of this room. Alex was fine, but we spent some tense minutes assessing the situation here.
Jeff found more and more letters and cards. Our stack of salvageable grew. We uncovered a few clay pots and some cast iron pans.
People were walking into the home now. We had a constant audience. Everyone expressed sadness, but there was hunger in their eyes. I was disheartened by this; this trait of taking from those who have already lost so much. Jeff and I started announcing as we worked that we were saving these things for the owner. We spoke warnings about the hot coals and encouraged people to wait outside. Children from the school walked in bare feet around the house. I pointed out all the shattered glass and asked them to please return to school. A teacher finally took up my cause and shooed the children away.
We dug. And I remembered.
So many celebrations took place in these walls. So many conversations. So many memories. Bob and Jennifer welcomed into their name, heart and family six children here in this space. They housed and nurtured many more.
I remembered the decisions, choices, hard labor spent on each detail of this home. It was used well. To the glory of the Lord.
We have dutifully recorded many of those moments with cameras through the years. But on this morning, when I pulled out my camera, I recorded a loss and it felt very opposing to me.
Picture taking is most often a celebratory practice. Christmas, birthdays, baptisms, marking the growth of family.
This moment was quite the opposite emotion. Each snap felt heavily somber. But I reminded myself that the pictures would be helpful and continued to record the scene.
In yet another irony of life in this place, I hated this moment, and felt equally grateful to be there for our friends. To mark this passing with tears of remembrance. Of honor.
We worked for a couple of hours. Jeff continued putting out flames that would emerge from the coals at our feet. We dug, we salvaged, we prayed.
I was loading a scarred load of Pat’s history into the car when Jeff came out carrying two books. They looked almost clean compared to the soot that now covered everything else. Jim Elliots journals and a book titled “He Has Made Me Glad”. We smiled and chuckled amazement at God’s hand clearly redeeming this moment. Jeff flipped through the books and pulled an unsinged postcard from the inside pages. Bwamba Road. An aerial shot of the road to Bundibugyo, where Pat and a World Harvest Mission team have worked for many years.
It would not be the only thing unsinged, but it would be one of few.
After lengthy discussions with Pastor Sam, and a phone call with Bob Chedester we headed back home, our bodies, awake all night, now hungering for sleep.
We shared the news with our children and the Goodes and then succumbed to slumber. After resting, we spent the evening spreading out the documents and pictures we had found. Carefully cleaning and separating, praying that the few things would be a comfort to Pat.
We peeled pictures away from stacks, spread and dried papers. The next morning, Jeff was out early to remove the solar panels from the roof so they could be stored. Just as I left our home to join him at the house, I received an email from Pat. There was one document she asked us to look for.
When I reached the house, I could see Jeff had been uncovering more papers and had a large stack in the back of the car. I quickly described the document she needed and he told me he hadn’t found it. This was now two days after the fire.
We went into the office, and I asked God, out loud, to please take us to the document if it was still there. Jeff bent down, explaining to the Goodes, “it will be similar in color to (pause) this,” and pulled out the document! Praise the Lord. It was badly damaged but some marks were legible enough for her to use the form for what she needed.
It has been a week now. Our living room, full of papers and pictures still drying, smells like fire. Pat and the Chedesters are all doing well, full of God provided faith and coping with the loss.
Pat wrote on her blog of beauty from ashes. Only time will tell the losses Pat will number as she resettles here. But it moves me to look at what God mercifully allowed us to find:
pictures and letters from Pat’s Mom, pictures and cards from Pat’s team, documents for Kim and Lydia, an aerial shot of the road to Bundibugyo, three books: Jim Elliot’s journals, “He Has Made me Glad”, and The Art of Christian Healing.
A solid representation of some of the richest beauty of Pat’s life: family, team, daughters, mission, ministry, Christ.
This world is not our home. I am honored to serve alongside others who can celebrate that truth even from the ashes of loss.
Blessed be the name of the Lord!
Monday, July 25, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
On Prayer, Relationship & A Strong Tenor Lead
(This post has been sitting in drafts for a bit. It didn’t feel complete, and I also couldn’t release it , so I’ve returned to it almost every day. This afternoon, I pondered a Father’s Day entry and began perusing Daddy memories in my mind. And finally, this post found completion. The reason I had to wait was evident. God’s timing is perfect.)
I followed a recent online discussion about Prayer Life.
I feel my spirit pull away from that phrase a bit.
Common phrases begin to impart their own meanings over time. We lock on to what a thing looks like and how it functions and can forget the deeper truths.
‘Prayer life,’ for instance, is a living organism that grows and changes and is active.
I sometimes long for a rewording so that the term would grab my attention as it should, not immediately throw my mind into a conquered pattern.
The online discussion concerned balancing one's prayer life and led me to these thoughts.
Too much of my spiritual journey has been focused on the “do-ings” of my life.
Too little time given to the “be-ing”.
God IS. And He asks us to BE His. The schedule, timing, clock, list, plan… are not wrong at all. They are fine. They just aren’t IT.
It’s so easy to get caught up in the methods…
Prayer is relationship. And when we confine relationship to method or schedule, suffocation often results.
I’ve commented before about my maternal grandparents. One of the safest places I can remember is their home.
A few memories of their household:
Unrushed. Lots of sitting and being together. No schedule. We played. Games, dolls, crosswords. I never one day had the thought, “How do I act like a better granddaughter?” There was no list or process in my brain. I was their granddaughter. And I was beloved. I knew this by the way I was welcomed and embraced. I knew this because they had time. They expressed their love for me verbally and with actions. With their facial expressions. And the way they talked about me when I was out of the room. They worked hard to have my favorite foods available. They were profoundly interested in my stories.
And I loved being with them.
They were a concrete example of safe, cherished relationship. They were practicing, Christ's love.
But, how easy it can be for me to not experience Christ this way.
My prayer focus can become: What I Am Saying. And, How Long I am Spending. And, What is Expected of Me.
Instead…
How does God look as I approach Him? What is His response to me? Where is He sitting? Where is Jesus? Where are His eyes? On me? Looking into the distance?
To keep this relationship ALIVE in my broken brain and heart—I have begun intentionally taking God with me to a “place” I never have.
An intense moment of conflict. A bad parenting moment. In the middle of a pity party. Extreme joy or raucous laughter.
Not just desperate pleas (though, He certainly hears and accepts those). But also, a considering of where He is in those moments. I am choosing to open new doors in my perception and be more deeply intimate with God.
Not just in moments I have patterned to be Holy. But every moment allowed to birth holiness because of His Presence.
I had to work at this. I couldn’t picture Him at first in stressful, difficult circumstances. When I felt like I was failing.
I asked for help. Faltering words.
“Lord, where do you sit when I talk to you? Do you sit? When I’m messing up, or in pain, where do you stand? Do you touch me? Can you help me see you in my mind’s eye?”
This visualization became gradually more distinct.
The intercession, the confession, the listening…grew in authenticity as I became more aware of Who He Is. Where He Is. (everywhere, all the time…)
And How He Loves. The two are directly proportional.
God is Love.
Change was effected. There is no other way.
We cannot control, or direct or manipulate the outpourings or effects as a result of being with God.
The outpourings (whether they are ever seen by human eyes or not) will Glorify and Testify where it matters. He will see to that.
We should only continue to pursue him, pressing in.
Seeing Him. Being seen.
A personal relationship with Christ. It thrives, grows and never stops giving, filling and renewing.
El Roi, praise—
(And there it was. That phrase. ‘Personal relationship with Christ’
What to say to honor you, Dad? Just this.
Everything to me now, is just what you told me it would be.Christ in me, in you.
Is All. And promises our family Forever. Together. With Him.
You consistently testified and taught that Knowing God far surpassed knowing about Him. In my ongoing cycle of relationship with God, my heart reawakens to this truth and thrives again in His Love, over and over again. Each time more authentic than the last.
This Truth that can never be conquered, but always gives from an unreachable depth, has been a soundtrack of my life.
What sweet awareness to realize,your voice still carries the melody.
The melody, of this, most resonant of Life Songs.
I continue to pursue the One you told me loves me most.
I love you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day--)
I followed a recent online discussion about Prayer Life.
I feel my spirit pull away from that phrase a bit.
Common phrases begin to impart their own meanings over time. We lock on to what a thing looks like and how it functions and can forget the deeper truths.
‘Prayer life,’ for instance, is a living organism that grows and changes and is active.
I sometimes long for a rewording so that the term would grab my attention as it should, not immediately throw my mind into a conquered pattern.
The online discussion concerned balancing one's prayer life and led me to these thoughts.
Too much of my spiritual journey has been focused on the “do-ings” of my life.
Too little time given to the “be-ing”.
God IS. And He asks us to BE His. The schedule, timing, clock, list, plan… are not wrong at all. They are fine. They just aren’t IT.
It’s so easy to get caught up in the methods…
Prayer is relationship. And when we confine relationship to method or schedule, suffocation often results.
I’ve commented before about my maternal grandparents. One of the safest places I can remember is their home.
A few memories of their household:
Unrushed. Lots of sitting and being together. No schedule. We played. Games, dolls, crosswords. I never one day had the thought, “How do I act like a better granddaughter?” There was no list or process in my brain. I was their granddaughter. And I was beloved. I knew this by the way I was welcomed and embraced. I knew this because they had time. They expressed their love for me verbally and with actions. With their facial expressions. And the way they talked about me when I was out of the room. They worked hard to have my favorite foods available. They were profoundly interested in my stories.
And I loved being with them.
They were a concrete example of safe, cherished relationship. They were practicing, Christ's love.
But, how easy it can be for me to not experience Christ this way.
My prayer focus can become: What I Am Saying. And, How Long I am Spending. And, What is Expected of Me.
Instead…
How does God look as I approach Him? What is His response to me? Where is He sitting? Where is Jesus? Where are His eyes? On me? Looking into the distance?
To keep this relationship ALIVE in my broken brain and heart—I have begun intentionally taking God with me to a “place” I never have.
An intense moment of conflict. A bad parenting moment. In the middle of a pity party. Extreme joy or raucous laughter.
Not just desperate pleas (though, He certainly hears and accepts those). But also, a considering of where He is in those moments. I am choosing to open new doors in my perception and be more deeply intimate with God.
Not just in moments I have patterned to be Holy. But every moment allowed to birth holiness because of His Presence.
I had to work at this. I couldn’t picture Him at first in stressful, difficult circumstances. When I felt like I was failing.
I asked for help. Faltering words.
“Lord, where do you sit when I talk to you? Do you sit? When I’m messing up, or in pain, where do you stand? Do you touch me? Can you help me see you in my mind’s eye?”
This visualization became gradually more distinct.
The intercession, the confession, the listening…grew in authenticity as I became more aware of Who He Is. Where He Is. (everywhere, all the time…)
And How He Loves. The two are directly proportional.
God is Love.
Change was effected. There is no other way.
We cannot control, or direct or manipulate the outpourings or effects as a result of being with God.
The outpourings (whether they are ever seen by human eyes or not) will Glorify and Testify where it matters. He will see to that.
We should only continue to pursue him, pressing in.
Seeing Him. Being seen.
A personal relationship with Christ. It thrives, grows and never stops giving, filling and renewing.
El Roi, praise—
(And there it was. That phrase. ‘Personal relationship with Christ’
What to say to honor you, Dad? Just this.
Everything to me now, is just what you told me it would be.Christ in me, in you.
Is All. And promises our family Forever. Together. With Him.
You consistently testified and taught that Knowing God far surpassed knowing about Him. In my ongoing cycle of relationship with God, my heart reawakens to this truth and thrives again in His Love, over and over again. Each time more authentic than the last.
This Truth that can never be conquered, but always gives from an unreachable depth, has been a soundtrack of my life.
What sweet awareness to realize,your voice still carries the melody.
The melody, of this, most resonant of Life Songs.
I continue to pursue the One you told me loves me most.
I love you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day--)
Thursday, June 09, 2011
A Time to Remember
Some seasons in life meander. Some just come crashing in.
Both speak Him, when I listen.
Faith Quest: God brought me to Revelation 3 and the church of Philadelphia just before Faith Quest began. The church in Philadelphia was few in number. Weak. Bearing wounds and constant persecution from the “religious” and “righteous”. The “righteous” who had more money and more “solid” history. But were missing something.
“I will make them come and fall down at your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you.”
This was God’s Word to His people. Not greater success. Or less struggle.
His love and adoration for his enduring people. Will be acknowledged.
What sweet, sweet assurance. What we see isn’t It. How He loves, Is.
We welcomed youth from different parts of Uganda and a team of 6 American visitors to this year's Faith Quest.
The theme was 'Under Construction.' And it was a great year. Learning. Prayer. Celebration. Worship and New Life.
All because of His Love for us.
Thank you to everyone who prayed us through this endeavor. Your prayers were answered in remarkable ways—good weather, open hearts, Glory to God.
May 5th, 2011: I never expected to feel this way, but I was dreading turning forty. Four Zero. (pause) Still not too happy about it. I can not explain it or analyze it or even apologize for it. Just wasn’t ready for those numbers on my cake.
So my dear family and sweet friends creatively spoke the truth (the number '35' was on my cake with five tiny candles hid behind) and it brought my heart such joy. My sweet girl works hard each year to mark my day with beauty. This year she baked my cake in an outdoor brick oven. The smiling faces of exuberance of my family made me so grateful that I have been graced another year to know them. Even if I’m not so thrilled with the actual numbers. Another year is a very good thing.
Keeping Moment: I was born on this day a few years ago but now share the birth day with my third born. Third born from my womb—third born-again in the Lord.
Nothing compares to sweet, simple faith expressed in the words, “I believe.”
“Jesus is the Son of God.”
He really has always known this but with frightening joy we will see it proven in his journey. As I hear his confession, experience his resolute decision and celebrate with the angels over his covenant love with Christ, I know the years ahead will rock him more than he could ever know. But this anchor holds.
He ponders deep and long over everything. And every so often, when I least expect it the depth bowls over and spills out into our awareness leaving me breathless and grateful.
I know my offspring well but only God knows their inmost beings. And He is there. Ever there. Loving, knowing, guiding and saving. Precious Savior—thank you.
Broken Hearts: Home from Faith Quest with exhaustion weighing heavy and a Facebook status alerts us to sorrow among our Tyler, Texas family. A fatal car accident has taken the life of dear friend.
I remember the first time we met. Jeff M. was carrying Cade in a baby carrier. Alicia was carrying food. I was pregnant with Isaac. We were at the Burnett’s for care group. I thought Alicia was beautiful. And she immediately began asking questions. About my pregnancy. About Uganda. About my life.
She asked me if I needed anything.
Tears.
She always asked if I needed anything.
We talked about baby needs and she said she would get some stuff together for me.
Boxes and boxes of clothes and blankets and toys.
Playgroups. Lunches. So many hugs.
Shopping. Packing. Watching my kids.
Laughing. Crying.
We are blessed when friends come along side us and, despite our frequent and long separations, open their lives and hearts to us. Jeff and Alicia were such friends.
She sent an email just after we arrived back in Uganda this time. Letting me know she missed me. Asking if I needed anything. (smile) And saying that she loved me.
I responded to her email. Lots of news from here. My love and constant prayers.
It was the last communication we would have. If I had known that, would I have said something different?
Our hearts are with Jeff, Jeron, & Cade daily as they walk through the grief of losing Alicia. We long to do more.
Valley of the shadows: In the wake of grieving with the Morrisons we hear of other friends and families facing loss. A young man passes quietly in his sleep, a Dad placed in hospice care while the family gathers, traumatic accidents shattering hearts and hopes.
Tornadoes. Earthquakes. Volcanoes.
A woman is assaulted just outside our fence.
Weighty. Heavy happenings.
And that empathetic weight makes the daily walk more cumbersome.
The daily facts of no electricity. The unused washer and dryer that would make it all so much easier. Homeschooling three active boys, on my own. Pre-algebra with Kinley.
The assaults on ministry here—lies. Deception. Brokeness.
“We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May YOUR UNFAILING LOVE rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you.” Psalm 33:20-22
Each moment reminding me—
Beauty and pain coexist.
I should fear neither. Embrace both.
For everything He can make them.
“I know the plans I have for you,”
“To give you a future and a hope”
Precious Lord. Come quickly.
Both speak Him, when I listen.
Faith Quest: God brought me to Revelation 3 and the church of Philadelphia just before Faith Quest began. The church in Philadelphia was few in number. Weak. Bearing wounds and constant persecution from the “religious” and “righteous”. The “righteous” who had more money and more “solid” history. But were missing something.
“I will make them come and fall down at your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you.”
This was God’s Word to His people. Not greater success. Or less struggle.
His love and adoration for his enduring people. Will be acknowledged.
What sweet, sweet assurance. What we see isn’t It. How He loves, Is.
We welcomed youth from different parts of Uganda and a team of 6 American visitors to this year's Faith Quest.
The theme was 'Under Construction.' And it was a great year. Learning. Prayer. Celebration. Worship and New Life.
All because of His Love for us.
May 5th, 2011: I never expected to feel this way, but I was dreading turning forty. Four Zero. (pause) Still not too happy about it. I can not explain it or analyze it or even apologize for it. Just wasn’t ready for those numbers on my cake.
So my dear family and sweet friends creatively spoke the truth (the number '35' was on my cake with five tiny candles hid behind) and it brought my heart such joy. My sweet girl works hard each year to mark my day with beauty. This year she baked my cake in an outdoor brick oven. The smiling faces of exuberance of my family made me so grateful that I have been graced another year to know them. Even if I’m not so thrilled with the actual numbers. Another year is a very good thing.
Keeping Moment: I was born on this day a few years ago but now share the birth day with my third born. Third born from my womb—third born-again in the Lord.
Nothing compares to sweet, simple faith expressed in the words, “I believe.”
“Jesus is the Son of God.”
He really has always known this but with frightening joy we will see it proven in his journey. As I hear his confession, experience his resolute decision and celebrate with the angels over his covenant love with Christ, I know the years ahead will rock him more than he could ever know. But this anchor holds.
He ponders deep and long over everything. And every so often, when I least expect it the depth bowls over and spills out into our awareness leaving me breathless and grateful.
Broken Hearts: Home from Faith Quest with exhaustion weighing heavy and a Facebook status alerts us to sorrow among our Tyler, Texas family. A fatal car accident has taken the life of dear friend.
I remember the first time we met. Jeff M. was carrying Cade in a baby carrier. Alicia was carrying food. I was pregnant with Isaac. We were at the Burnett’s for care group. I thought Alicia was beautiful. And she immediately began asking questions. About my pregnancy. About Uganda. About my life.
She asked me if I needed anything.
Tears.
She always asked if I needed anything.
We talked about baby needs and she said she would get some stuff together for me.
Boxes and boxes of clothes and blankets and toys.
Playgroups. Lunches. So many hugs.
Shopping. Packing. Watching my kids.
Laughing. Crying.
We are blessed when friends come along side us and, despite our frequent and long separations, open their lives and hearts to us. Jeff and Alicia were such friends.
She sent an email just after we arrived back in Uganda this time. Letting me know she missed me. Asking if I needed anything. (smile) And saying that she loved me.
I responded to her email. Lots of news from here. My love and constant prayers.
It was the last communication we would have. If I had known that, would I have said something different?
Our hearts are with Jeff, Jeron, & Cade daily as they walk through the grief of losing Alicia. We long to do more.
Valley of the shadows: In the wake of grieving with the Morrisons we hear of other friends and families facing loss. A young man passes quietly in his sleep, a Dad placed in hospice care while the family gathers, traumatic accidents shattering hearts and hopes.
Tornadoes. Earthquakes. Volcanoes.
A woman is assaulted just outside our fence.
Weighty. Heavy happenings.
And that empathetic weight makes the daily walk more cumbersome.
The daily facts of no electricity. The unused washer and dryer that would make it all so much easier. Homeschooling three active boys, on my own. Pre-algebra with Kinley.
The assaults on ministry here—lies. Deception. Brokeness.
“We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May YOUR UNFAILING LOVE rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you.” Psalm 33:20-22
Each moment reminding me—
Beauty and pain coexist.
I should fear neither. Embrace both.
For everything He can make them.
“I know the plans I have for you,”
“To give you a future and a hope”
Precious Lord. Come quickly.
Monday, May 02, 2011
Shall We Pray?
“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
1. Thank you Jesus for the land, lake and gorgeous view of the mountains at Camp Saka.
2. Thank you for the safety and protection you have provided through these years.
3. Thank you for safety on the roads.
4. Thank you for food to eat.
5. Thank you for voices to sing and pray with.
6. Thank you for the youth who travel to meet with You, with us.
7. Thank you for each American brother and sister who travel far to encourage youth during this week!
8. Thank you for Hannah, Sarah, Jessica, Shannon, Dusty and Cecily.
9. Thank you for Kinley, Alex, Isaac and Silas and their joy during camp.
10. Thank you for Jeff’s work and perseverance.
11. Thank you for Derricks tireless efforts and boundless energy.
12. Thank you for our Calvary Chapel brothers willingness to work, serve and teach.
13. Thank you for a message to proclaim!
14. Thank you for food to eat and water to drink!
15. Thank you for sunshine!
16. Thank you for rain.
17. Thank you for hearing our prayers!
18. Thank you for forgiveness and grace.
19. Thank you for another day of living!
20. Thank you for the hope of heaven.
“ Finally, brothers, pray for us that the message of the Lord, may spread rapidly and be honored, just as it was with you. And pray that we may be delivered from wicked and evil men, for not everyone has faith. But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen and protect you from the evil one.” I Thessalonians 3:1-3
Faith Quest Prayers:
1. Spiritual:
A. Truth—Satan speaks lies and deception. Please pray for each leader, teacher, guard, cook, grounds keeper and participant to be freed from the bondage of deception. John 8:43-44
B. Confession—This is inextricably linked to Truth. We must speak the truth to each other and we must speak the truth about ourselves. Confession is paramount in this. Please pray for courage, honesty and strength for leaders, teachers, guards, cooks, grounds keepers and participants to CONFESS their sins and be forgiven. James 5:16
C. Protection—we tread on satan’s (temporary) territories. From the land we physically walk and sleep on to the hearts we seek to minister too. The Saka land was used for many years and generation to honor/respect/serve demonic forces. We have, in Jesus Name and power, reclaimed the land and seek to reclaim the hearts. Please pray with us in this struggle, thanking our God for His continual victories and for hearing our prayers.
D. Boundaries—we ask God to draw protective boundaries around the camp—protection from witch doctors, difficult neighbors, and any evil that would be conjured or sent out against this effort.
E. Courage—“the cowardly” are listed among those who will be outside of God’s eternal kingdom. Pray for the heart of God’s warriors to exist in all of us as we teach, serve and learn. Rev 21:8
2. Physical:
A. Jeff’s back—last week Jeff’s back was hurt as he cleared a road on the way to camp. He is in constant physical pain. Please pray for healing and endurance as he continues to work and serve.
B. Health of the Cashlings—these next few weeks are full and busy for Jeff and Cheryl. Our kids are also passionate about Faith Quest and serve alongside us. Part of their service is “sharing’ Mom and Dad’s time and energies. Please pray for our kids to be well physically. Alex is having allergy issues and Kinley’s stomach is not well. Pray for healing and endurance.
C. Cheryl’s headaches—tiredness and overwork increase the occurrence of migraines. Please pray that Cheryl will be migraine free during this season.
D. Hannah, Sarah, Jessica, Shannon, Dusty and Cecily: These are our American support staff during camp this year. Please pray for their endurance, health, and protection.
E. Snakes—please pray for physical protection for everyone involved with Faith Quest. Snakes exist in the bush and we pray they will stay away completely during this time.
F. Distracting critters—ants, bees, wasps, fuzzy caterpillars, etc- pray for this to be a time of physical peace as well as spiritual peace.
G. Water—pray for the water pump system to work and for healthy water to be available for each participant
H. Transport—there is a lot of driving involved in Faith Quest. Pray for the roads, for the cars, and the drivers. Safety! Efficiency! Working mechanical parts!
I. Food—food prices have skyrocketed in Ft Portal and we need to buy a lot of food. Please pray for grace and favor as we bargain and purchase. Pray for the cooks to be a blessing and to be blessed.
J. Youth—pray for each participant to arrive safely and meet with the Lord during these days.
K. Protection—pray against thieves and anyone who would even attempt physical harm of any kind to any participant or leader (or property) at Faith Quest.
L. SUNSHINE!!—rain hurts us, especially as we set up and travel to camp. Please pray for sunshine for the next two weeks!
3. Emotional
A. Encouragement—Please pray for emotional encouragement to abound among the leadership this year. Pray that we can thank often, forgive quickly and communicate well. Especially, pray for emotional encouragement for Jeff and Derrick as they direct and make MANY decisions.
B. Protection—it is easy to “feel” discouraged and depleted. Please pray for our emotional well being to be strong in the Lord!
C. Distractions—please pray against any emotional distractions our enemy would toss our way. Also pray against his conniving usage of basically good things, to distract or pull our minds and hearts away from where our true focus should be.
D. Joy—pray for our hearts to have joy in serving!
“Elijah was a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and half years. Again he prayed and the heavens gave rain and the earth produced its crops.” James 5: 17-18
Holy Father, Almighty God-
Thank you for using us. Thank you for the incredible Grace of entrusting your GLORIOUS message to broken jars of clay.
Will you rain down on us—Your Spirit. Your Might. Your Glory.
We want these youth and each leader to meet you and know you better.
While we ask that you hold back the water rain—will you pour down the Spirit’s fire and make our hearts ready to receive all you have for us?
We thank you now for all you are doing today in our hearts and lives. We praise You for your plan and purpose for this week of Faith Quest.
Thank you, Faithful Father, for each brother and sister who is petitioning, interceding and standing with us in this endeavor.
We stand firm because you said to.
We stand firm because of You.
Faithful. True.
We run into your name, your strong tower. And we are safe.
Be glorified, Abba. Be glorified.
In Jesus Blessed, Powerful Name,
Amen.
1. Thank you Jesus for the land, lake and gorgeous view of the mountains at Camp Saka.
2. Thank you for the safety and protection you have provided through these years.
3. Thank you for safety on the roads.
4. Thank you for food to eat.
5. Thank you for voices to sing and pray with.
6. Thank you for the youth who travel to meet with You, with us.
7. Thank you for each American brother and sister who travel far to encourage youth during this week!
8. Thank you for Hannah, Sarah, Jessica, Shannon, Dusty and Cecily.
9. Thank you for Kinley, Alex, Isaac and Silas and their joy during camp.
10. Thank you for Jeff’s work and perseverance.
11. Thank you for Derricks tireless efforts and boundless energy.
12. Thank you for our Calvary Chapel brothers willingness to work, serve and teach.
13. Thank you for a message to proclaim!
14. Thank you for food to eat and water to drink!
15. Thank you for sunshine!
16. Thank you for rain.
17. Thank you for hearing our prayers!
18. Thank you for forgiveness and grace.
19. Thank you for another day of living!
20. Thank you for the hope of heaven.
“ Finally, brothers, pray for us that the message of the Lord, may spread rapidly and be honored, just as it was with you. And pray that we may be delivered from wicked and evil men, for not everyone has faith. But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen and protect you from the evil one.” I Thessalonians 3:1-3
Faith Quest Prayers:
1. Spiritual:
A. Truth—Satan speaks lies and deception. Please pray for each leader, teacher, guard, cook, grounds keeper and participant to be freed from the bondage of deception. John 8:43-44
B. Confession—This is inextricably linked to Truth. We must speak the truth to each other and we must speak the truth about ourselves. Confession is paramount in this. Please pray for courage, honesty and strength for leaders, teachers, guards, cooks, grounds keepers and participants to CONFESS their sins and be forgiven. James 5:16
C. Protection—we tread on satan’s (temporary) territories. From the land we physically walk and sleep on to the hearts we seek to minister too. The Saka land was used for many years and generation to honor/respect/serve demonic forces. We have, in Jesus Name and power, reclaimed the land and seek to reclaim the hearts. Please pray with us in this struggle, thanking our God for His continual victories and for hearing our prayers.
D. Boundaries—we ask God to draw protective boundaries around the camp—protection from witch doctors, difficult neighbors, and any evil that would be conjured or sent out against this effort.
E. Courage—“the cowardly” are listed among those who will be outside of God’s eternal kingdom. Pray for the heart of God’s warriors to exist in all of us as we teach, serve and learn. Rev 21:8
2. Physical:
A. Jeff’s back—last week Jeff’s back was hurt as he cleared a road on the way to camp. He is in constant physical pain. Please pray for healing and endurance as he continues to work and serve.
B. Health of the Cashlings—these next few weeks are full and busy for Jeff and Cheryl. Our kids are also passionate about Faith Quest and serve alongside us. Part of their service is “sharing’ Mom and Dad’s time and energies. Please pray for our kids to be well physically. Alex is having allergy issues and Kinley’s stomach is not well. Pray for healing and endurance.
C. Cheryl’s headaches—tiredness and overwork increase the occurrence of migraines. Please pray that Cheryl will be migraine free during this season.
D. Hannah, Sarah, Jessica, Shannon, Dusty and Cecily: These are our American support staff during camp this year. Please pray for their endurance, health, and protection.
E. Snakes—please pray for physical protection for everyone involved with Faith Quest. Snakes exist in the bush and we pray they will stay away completely during this time.
F. Distracting critters—ants, bees, wasps, fuzzy caterpillars, etc- pray for this to be a time of physical peace as well as spiritual peace.
G. Water—pray for the water pump system to work and for healthy water to be available for each participant
H. Transport—there is a lot of driving involved in Faith Quest. Pray for the roads, for the cars, and the drivers. Safety! Efficiency! Working mechanical parts!
I. Food—food prices have skyrocketed in Ft Portal and we need to buy a lot of food. Please pray for grace and favor as we bargain and purchase. Pray for the cooks to be a blessing and to be blessed.
J. Youth—pray for each participant to arrive safely and meet with the Lord during these days.
K. Protection—pray against thieves and anyone who would even attempt physical harm of any kind to any participant or leader (or property) at Faith Quest.
L. SUNSHINE!!—rain hurts us, especially as we set up and travel to camp. Please pray for sunshine for the next two weeks!
3. Emotional
A. Encouragement—Please pray for emotional encouragement to abound among the leadership this year. Pray that we can thank often, forgive quickly and communicate well. Especially, pray for emotional encouragement for Jeff and Derrick as they direct and make MANY decisions.
B. Protection—it is easy to “feel” discouraged and depleted. Please pray for our emotional well being to be strong in the Lord!
C. Distractions—please pray against any emotional distractions our enemy would toss our way. Also pray against his conniving usage of basically good things, to distract or pull our minds and hearts away from where our true focus should be.
D. Joy—pray for our hearts to have joy in serving!
“Elijah was a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and half years. Again he prayed and the heavens gave rain and the earth produced its crops.” James 5: 17-18
Holy Father, Almighty God-
Thank you for using us. Thank you for the incredible Grace of entrusting your GLORIOUS message to broken jars of clay.
Will you rain down on us—Your Spirit. Your Might. Your Glory.
We want these youth and each leader to meet you and know you better.
While we ask that you hold back the water rain—will you pour down the Spirit’s fire and make our hearts ready to receive all you have for us?
We thank you now for all you are doing today in our hearts and lives. We praise You for your plan and purpose for this week of Faith Quest.
Thank you, Faithful Father, for each brother and sister who is petitioning, interceding and standing with us in this endeavor.
We stand firm because you said to.
We stand firm because of You.
Faithful. True.
We run into your name, your strong tower. And we are safe.
Be glorified, Abba. Be glorified.
In Jesus Blessed, Powerful Name,
Amen.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Mama Yeshua
(On this eve of another celebration of Jesus life, I am drawn again to thoughts of Mary. Below are my own humble musings concerning Mary's experience on that painful Friday.)
Not what I expected. Again.
His arrival had been so simple. Three of us. Joseph, me, Yeshua. The shepherds had come. The sweetness of his breaths. God’s promises. The angels.
Ending here??!
The chaos of the moment overwhelmed. The shouting crowds. People shoving past me, screaming insults. Pockets of people laughing in derision.
“Who is this, who has gotten himself into trouble?”
My mind could not comprehend this. This mayhem.
As I stumbled along with the other women, tears pouring down my face, my mind was back in that first ethereal encounter.
The angel. “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you….Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
“He will be great…”
“his kingdom will never end.”
Holy Abba, my eyes see 'ending' here. Our son carries his own cross! My heart is ripped in pieces for the child of my womb. His suffering. His blood. His agony.
He needs water. He needs help! Abba, do you see?!
Each nail, each cry pierced my soul. Oh that I could die too. Take me Father.
The women’s hands hold me up. We must struggle on. I watch the carnage hoping as only a mother can for the miracle!
You promised, my Abba! He will be great!
I do not understand.
They set the cross upright. He cannot breathe. I run toward him and am forced back. My agony permeates my joints and limbs.
My son!!!!
“Dear woman.”
His voice and eyes find me.
Precious eyes. Precious face.
“Dear woman, here is your son,”
His eyes find John. John crumbles but listens—“Here is your mother.”
John looks at me with the love and desperation we are all strangled by.
John nods.
No! My heart cries, NO!!
You. Yeshua. YOU ARE MY SON!!!!
DO NOT LEAVE ME HERE!!!!!
Simeon’s words crashed in on me then.
“This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
“A sword will pierce your own soul too.”
I scream in agony.
“It is finished.”
There are no words to describe this. When your child departs the earth. My own soul crashed, shattered on the blood spattered earth. Spittle from the mouths of these murderers still wetting the ground around the wooden cross.
Events swirled around me. An earthquake. Darkness.
News from the temple that the curtain was torn in two. Burial.
We have no ground here.
A stranger to me. A prominent man. One of THEM buries my son.
John’s protective presence. Yeshua’s comfort, even here.
I am lifeless. Unable to move.
Unable to think.
Broken.
“It is finished” my son said.
Finished?
Almighty God. This is not what I expected.
(Luke 1:28-33;Luke 2:34;John 19:25-27;Luke 19:30)
Not what I expected. Again.
His arrival had been so simple. Three of us. Joseph, me, Yeshua. The shepherds had come. The sweetness of his breaths. God’s promises. The angels.
Ending here??!
The chaos of the moment overwhelmed. The shouting crowds. People shoving past me, screaming insults. Pockets of people laughing in derision.
“Who is this, who has gotten himself into trouble?”
My mind could not comprehend this. This mayhem.
As I stumbled along with the other women, tears pouring down my face, my mind was back in that first ethereal encounter.
The angel. “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you….Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
“He will be great…”
“his kingdom will never end.”
Holy Abba, my eyes see 'ending' here. Our son carries his own cross! My heart is ripped in pieces for the child of my womb. His suffering. His blood. His agony.
He needs water. He needs help! Abba, do you see?!
Each nail, each cry pierced my soul. Oh that I could die too. Take me Father.
The women’s hands hold me up. We must struggle on. I watch the carnage hoping as only a mother can for the miracle!
You promised, my Abba! He will be great!
I do not understand.
They set the cross upright. He cannot breathe. I run toward him and am forced back. My agony permeates my joints and limbs.
My son!!!!
“Dear woman.”
His voice and eyes find me.
Precious eyes. Precious face.
“Dear woman, here is your son,”
His eyes find John. John crumbles but listens—“Here is your mother.”
John looks at me with the love and desperation we are all strangled by.
John nods.
No! My heart cries, NO!!
You. Yeshua. YOU ARE MY SON!!!!
DO NOT LEAVE ME HERE!!!!!
Simeon’s words crashed in on me then.
“This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
“A sword will pierce your own soul too.”
I scream in agony.
“It is finished.”
There are no words to describe this. When your child departs the earth. My own soul crashed, shattered on the blood spattered earth. Spittle from the mouths of these murderers still wetting the ground around the wooden cross.
Events swirled around me. An earthquake. Darkness.
News from the temple that the curtain was torn in two. Burial.
We have no ground here.
A stranger to me. A prominent man. One of THEM buries my son.
John’s protective presence. Yeshua’s comfort, even here.
I am lifeless. Unable to move.
Unable to think.
Broken.
“It is finished” my son said.
Finished?
Almighty God. This is not what I expected.
(Luke 1:28-33;Luke 2:34;John 19:25-27;Luke 19:30)
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Books
Here's a sampling of some of my favorites over the last six months.
Jesus Calling by Sarah Young
Deeply meaningful each and every day.
Boundaries by Dr Henry Cloud and Dr John Townsend
Eye opening and convicting. Greatly impacting my choices and decisions daily.
Paul 90 Days on His Journey of Faith by Beth Moore
I have been very blessed by this Beth Moore series of books. She has the 90 Days series for David, Jesus, John and Paul. These are shorter daily lessons than her weekly Bible studies and provide a wonderful lead-in to deeper study as I always experience with Beth Moore's work.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
Overall, an amazing book! Absolutely loved it. I was discomforted by one segment involving a disturbed individual who also happened to be unclothed. Just a forewarning, and something to keep in mind if younger readers are reading the book. Might be a part to skip or at least discuss. I skipped most of that section and it didn't mess up the storyline for me.
Decision Points by George W Bush
Spoken from the Heart by Laura Bush
I read these books at the same time and loved that. I was reminded of the great cost of leadership and inspired by the dedication to lead with honor. Highly recommend both books!
Extraordinary, Ordinary People: A Memoir of Family by Condoleeza Rice
I was inspired and fascinated by Dr. Rice's memories and family heritage. I have always been a Condoleeza Rice fan and only respected her more after reading this heartfelt dedication to her beloved parents and family.
Upcoming reads on my Kindle:
Her Mother's Hope and Her Daughter's Dream by Francine Rivers
One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are by Ann Voskamp
Interrupted by Jen Hatmaker
Finally a quote (from Interrupted) that speaks my heart right now--
Be blessed!
Jesus Calling by Sarah Young
Deeply meaningful each and every day.
Boundaries by Dr Henry Cloud and Dr John Townsend
Eye opening and convicting. Greatly impacting my choices and decisions daily.
Paul 90 Days on His Journey of Faith by Beth Moore
I have been very blessed by this Beth Moore series of books. She has the 90 Days series for David, Jesus, John and Paul. These are shorter daily lessons than her weekly Bible studies and provide a wonderful lead-in to deeper study as I always experience with Beth Moore's work.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
Overall, an amazing book! Absolutely loved it. I was discomforted by one segment involving a disturbed individual who also happened to be unclothed. Just a forewarning, and something to keep in mind if younger readers are reading the book. Might be a part to skip or at least discuss. I skipped most of that section and it didn't mess up the storyline for me.
Decision Points by George W Bush
Spoken from the Heart by Laura Bush
I read these books at the same time and loved that. I was reminded of the great cost of leadership and inspired by the dedication to lead with honor. Highly recommend both books!
Extraordinary, Ordinary People: A Memoir of Family by Condoleeza Rice
I was inspired and fascinated by Dr. Rice's memories and family heritage. I have always been a Condoleeza Rice fan and only respected her more after reading this heartfelt dedication to her beloved parents and family.
Upcoming reads on my Kindle:
Her Mother's Hope and Her Daughter's Dream by Francine Rivers
One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are by Ann Voskamp
Interrupted by Jen Hatmaker
Finally a quote (from Interrupted) that speaks my heart right now--
When Jesus told us to “take the lowest place” (Luke 14:10), it was more than a strategy for social justice. It was even more than wooing us to the bottom for communion, since that is where He is always found. The path of descent becomes our own liberation. We are freed from the exhausting stance of defense. We are no longer compelled to be right and are thus relieved from the burden of maintaining some reputation. We are released from the idols of greed, control, and status. The pressure to protect the house of cards is alleviated when we take the lowest place. Jen Hatmaker, Interrupted
Be blessed!
Monday, April 11, 2011
The Pain of Healing...
(journaled thoughts following our family's visit to a genocide memorial in Rwanda)
Piles of clothes. Piles. And piles.
The stench of decay is strong.
The entire area is hushed. Somber. We speak in low soft tones.
Agonizing stories. Memories.
Plaguing and oppressive.
Horrors. Bones.
I’m breathing in and out. But I feel suffocated.
I want to apologize to our guide. I’m sorry she has to tell me this.
I’m sorry there is such a story to tell.
Tiled, tidied graves.
Jeff remarks that things are more organized than when he was here before. Trees have grown.
I shield my children from the stories. The stories, seem too much for the ears and minds and eyes of my beloved.
Father God. How these seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. The reality, not just the stories.
How you must have longed to shield your creation, your children. Each heart and thought and hair of the head. That you have numbered. Each soul you designed.
I am overwhelmed.
Throngs of people quietly fill the road in front of us. We somberly pull aside on the road to wait for their passage. Memorials and gatherings at every town and village along our route.
Never Again!
Our hearts join that cry.
His Spirit intercedes in our weakness with groans of the inexpressible.
Before us, a stark contrast. Life is full of this.
The unbelievable beauty and majesty of the mountains and hills. Vast expanse of hills and valleys. Gorillas. Green. Lush. Forest. Lake.
God’s creation declares His Glory. Declares His Love.
Here. Where evil reigned for that awful time. God’s declaration goes on.
He loves. Oh. How. He. Loves.
To proclaim so unceasingly. The I AM.
We never deserve You.
Father God forgive us. Forgive us who did nothing. Forgive us, humankind, who did everything.
We cry out for your mercy. Your healing and your peace.
Please start in my heart.
Cleanse the prejudice that hides or camouflages itself in the corners.
Cleanse any resentment and bitter root.
Yank and pull. No matter the pain.
I turn my eyes from the vastness of this place. The natural splendor and the wounds that remain.
And look inward. To what I can effect.
My forgiveness. My love. My heart.
And from there. The world changes.
One surrender at a time.
Piles of clothes. Piles. And piles.
The stench of decay is strong.
The entire area is hushed. Somber. We speak in low soft tones.
Agonizing stories. Memories.
Plaguing and oppressive.
Horrors. Bones.
I’m breathing in and out. But I feel suffocated.
I want to apologize to our guide. I’m sorry she has to tell me this.
I’m sorry there is such a story to tell.
Tiled, tidied graves.
Jeff remarks that things are more organized than when he was here before. Trees have grown.
I shield my children from the stories. The stories, seem too much for the ears and minds and eyes of my beloved.
Father God. How these seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. The reality, not just the stories.
How you must have longed to shield your creation, your children. Each heart and thought and hair of the head. That you have numbered. Each soul you designed.
I am overwhelmed.
Throngs of people quietly fill the road in front of us. We somberly pull aside on the road to wait for their passage. Memorials and gatherings at every town and village along our route.
Never Again!
Our hearts join that cry.
His Spirit intercedes in our weakness with groans of the inexpressible.
Before us, a stark contrast. Life is full of this.
The unbelievable beauty and majesty of the mountains and hills. Vast expanse of hills and valleys. Gorillas. Green. Lush. Forest. Lake.
God’s creation declares His Glory. Declares His Love.
Here. Where evil reigned for that awful time. God’s declaration goes on.
He loves. Oh. How. He. Loves.
To proclaim so unceasingly. The I AM.
We never deserve You.
Father God forgive us. Forgive us who did nothing. Forgive us, humankind, who did everything.
We cry out for your mercy. Your healing and your peace.
Please start in my heart.
Cleanse the prejudice that hides or camouflages itself in the corners.
Cleanse any resentment and bitter root.
Yank and pull. No matter the pain.
I turn my eyes from the vastness of this place. The natural splendor and the wounds that remain.
And look inward. To what I can effect.
My forgiveness. My love. My heart.
And from there. The world changes.
One surrender at a time.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Praying...
Our Lord has graciously bound our hearts to others on this journey. He has promised to never leave or forsake us and many times He keeps His promise through the hearts of dear friends and sweet fellowship.
Today, I am praying for two families on different sides of the world. Please pray for them too.
**One family came into our lives many years ago. They were ending an amazing adventure of Africa travel and they stayed in our home for nearly 6 weeks. We were forging a life and ministry in a difficult place and they came along side and helped in every possible way. They served, traveled, cooked, peeled beans, played cards, laughed, cried and prayed with us.
Chad and Jennifer Huddleston.
God called them to Japan and multiplied their family and His Kingdom in that place.
Today, they walk along-side a people they love so very much, through pain, suffering and unimaginable loss.
Please pray for them today. And the team of Christians who are serving and giving in the wake of disaster. Their website has current updates and information for donations.
**Another family has been so tightly woven into the fabric of our lives, we feel like we are blood kin.
Ben and Trisha Wall.
When we were teenagers, Trisha was a hero for me. I grew up around her and her family. I knew her mostly from summer camp. She loved God. And she inspired others to love God.
I lost track of her for some years, until she and Ben took a job in East Texas. They served at a congregation with my uncle and aunt. My uncle often asked if I had spent much time with Trisha. He said he had a feeling we would be fast friends.
God took us to that congregation in 2002 and not only did Trisha and I quickly bond, but our husbands did too. Both West Coast boys. Both passionate God-followers.
Over the years, God, by His Spirit has anchored us to each other in indescribable ways. Many miles separate us, but His Spirit will not let us part. I am so thankful for this.
Over the last months, Ben and Trisha have labored under the weight of physical illness. Ben's body has suffered and both their spirits, though enduring, are weary.
Ben has surgery today. Pray that beyond the hands of the surgeons, God's healing miracles will defeat this physical malady. Pray for Ben and Trisha's hearts to be stronger, more tuned to God's voice than ever before.
Nine children are represented by these two couples. As Mom and Dad labor for Christ, please pray for Anika, Josiah, Caleb, Katia, Gideon, Alex, Katy, Elijah and Olivia. May their stories explode with relationship with Christ and may their hearts grow fearless in the Love of their Creator.
So today. Two families. Two different worlds.
One Lord. One prayer.
Be glorified, Abba Father. Be glorified!
Today, I am praying for two families on different sides of the world. Please pray for them too.
**One family came into our lives many years ago. They were ending an amazing adventure of Africa travel and they stayed in our home for nearly 6 weeks. We were forging a life and ministry in a difficult place and they came along side and helped in every possible way. They served, traveled, cooked, peeled beans, played cards, laughed, cried and prayed with us.
Chad and Jennifer Huddleston.
God called them to Japan and multiplied their family and His Kingdom in that place.
Today, they walk along-side a people they love so very much, through pain, suffering and unimaginable loss.
Please pray for them today. And the team of Christians who are serving and giving in the wake of disaster. Their website has current updates and information for donations.
**Another family has been so tightly woven into the fabric of our lives, we feel like we are blood kin.
Ben and Trisha Wall.
When we were teenagers, Trisha was a hero for me. I grew up around her and her family. I knew her mostly from summer camp. She loved God. And she inspired others to love God.
I lost track of her for some years, until she and Ben took a job in East Texas. They served at a congregation with my uncle and aunt. My uncle often asked if I had spent much time with Trisha. He said he had a feeling we would be fast friends.
God took us to that congregation in 2002 and not only did Trisha and I quickly bond, but our husbands did too. Both West Coast boys. Both passionate God-followers.
Over the years, God, by His Spirit has anchored us to each other in indescribable ways. Many miles separate us, but His Spirit will not let us part. I am so thankful for this.
Over the last months, Ben and Trisha have labored under the weight of physical illness. Ben's body has suffered and both their spirits, though enduring, are weary.
Ben has surgery today. Pray that beyond the hands of the surgeons, God's healing miracles will defeat this physical malady. Pray for Ben and Trisha's hearts to be stronger, more tuned to God's voice than ever before.
Nine children are represented by these two couples. As Mom and Dad labor for Christ, please pray for Anika, Josiah, Caleb, Katia, Gideon, Alex, Katy, Elijah and Olivia. May their stories explode with relationship with Christ and may their hearts grow fearless in the Love of their Creator.
So today. Two families. Two different worlds.
One Lord. One prayer.
Be glorified, Abba Father. Be glorified!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Proclaiming in the Dark
“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Eph 6:12
We are told that Satan has dominion in this world. And we can sometimes see signs of his cruel and unjust treatment.
Last night, around midnight, a woman’s cry punched the quiet of our home. The blows of her pain continued for over one hour. No other sound accompanied her shrieks. No other women joined into the chorus, which indicated no physical death.
No shouts or male voices reverberated. No sounds of physical abuse.
Just a wail. Pain.
We prayed. I asked for God’s angels to come and meet her. Free her. I asked for any allegiance in her heart to evil or Satan, to be turned. Confessed. Changed.
I don’t even know her name.
But I heard the bondage of her heart.
She proclaimed her pain into the silent hours of slumber.
Her current truth contrasted neon against the black night.
We had no choice but to hear.
And so we pray.
And we believe.
“…The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work.” 1 John 3: 8b
“The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you.” Romans 16: 20
We proclaim the One who has Overcome the World.
Right out loud, in the dark.
Maranatha!
We are told that Satan has dominion in this world. And we can sometimes see signs of his cruel and unjust treatment.
Last night, around midnight, a woman’s cry punched the quiet of our home. The blows of her pain continued for over one hour. No other sound accompanied her shrieks. No other women joined into the chorus, which indicated no physical death.
No shouts or male voices reverberated. No sounds of physical abuse.
Just a wail. Pain.
We prayed. I asked for God’s angels to come and meet her. Free her. I asked for any allegiance in her heart to evil or Satan, to be turned. Confessed. Changed.
I don’t even know her name.
But I heard the bondage of her heart.
She proclaimed her pain into the silent hours of slumber.
Her current truth contrasted neon against the black night.
We had no choice but to hear.
And so we pray.
And we believe.
“…The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work.” 1 John 3: 8b
“The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you.” Romans 16: 20
We proclaim the One who has Overcome the World.
Right out loud, in the dark.
Maranatha!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
As Evening Fades...
"Atwooki, Bye!"
Araali's call resonates through the house, signaling the end of the work day. Our compound becomes only ours for a brief respite of time.
I hasten through the food prep eager for a moment outside. During this fleeting moment.
This perfect time of day.
The noisy hordes of school children have passed our fence and found their way home. Dinner warms in the oven. The boys explode outside for a few final hours of running and energy spending in the coolest hours of the day.
Evening.
The sun begins to lower dramatically over the mountains that sit majestic guard over our town. The sky displays the spectrum of colors our Creator is choosing for this particular evening. Oranges, red, purples, blues. I am awestruck at the visual and breathe deep of the ever cooling air.
6 PM.
In our first year of life in Ft Portal, 6 PM poured loneliness and despair into my soul. The early evening triggered the impulse to meet with others ending their day of work in our home culture. I missed my parents, our friends, restaurants, malls, Mexican food.
In my first year of adjustment to a completely new and uncomfortable way, 6 PM ushered me into enough stillness to remember all that was left behind.
I cried often, then.
And I prayed. Pleading prayers, asking God to make this my home and comfort my soul.
Somewhere around year three of our sojourn here, I realized that my mind was anticipating the evening hour, not dreading it.
My awareness of this miracle shaded over me much as the shifting colors of the sunset. Gradual. Breathtaking. Awesome.
And now. I long for 6PM. I find my walking path, fill my ears with praise music and drink in the abundance of this place and this life.
His plan and purpose for me. All day, I settle quarrels and hug sweaty boys, encourage math prowess and pray long over ministry. I cook food and clean and organize and plan.
But for some minutes as the sun falls, I walk in the cool air and am embraced. By the arms of my Father who designed this painful, healing time, just for me. Because He knows.
The boys scheme grand adventure and ride bicycles around and around. Sweet girl revels in the quiet house and conquers one more chapter of a book. Too, embraced, by a Creator Who loves them well.
Hungry tummies beckon and darkness drives us into the light of the solar bulbs. Fully loved. Fully known.
A perfect moment.
Araali's call resonates through the house, signaling the end of the work day. Our compound becomes only ours for a brief respite of time.
I hasten through the food prep eager for a moment outside. During this fleeting moment.
This perfect time of day.
The noisy hordes of school children have passed our fence and found their way home. Dinner warms in the oven. The boys explode outside for a few final hours of running and energy spending in the coolest hours of the day.
Evening.
The sun begins to lower dramatically over the mountains that sit majestic guard over our town. The sky displays the spectrum of colors our Creator is choosing for this particular evening. Oranges, red, purples, blues. I am awestruck at the visual and breathe deep of the ever cooling air.
6 PM.
In our first year of life in Ft Portal, 6 PM poured loneliness and despair into my soul. The early evening triggered the impulse to meet with others ending their day of work in our home culture. I missed my parents, our friends, restaurants, malls, Mexican food.
In my first year of adjustment to a completely new and uncomfortable way, 6 PM ushered me into enough stillness to remember all that was left behind.
I cried often, then.
And I prayed. Pleading prayers, asking God to make this my home and comfort my soul.
Somewhere around year three of our sojourn here, I realized that my mind was anticipating the evening hour, not dreading it.
My awareness of this miracle shaded over me much as the shifting colors of the sunset. Gradual. Breathtaking. Awesome.
And now. I long for 6PM. I find my walking path, fill my ears with praise music and drink in the abundance of this place and this life.
His plan and purpose for me. All day, I settle quarrels and hug sweaty boys, encourage math prowess and pray long over ministry. I cook food and clean and organize and plan.
But for some minutes as the sun falls, I walk in the cool air and am embraced. By the arms of my Father who designed this painful, healing time, just for me. Because He knows.
The boys scheme grand adventure and ride bicycles around and around. Sweet girl revels in the quiet house and conquers one more chapter of a book. Too, embraced, by a Creator Who loves them well.
Hungry tummies beckon and darkness drives us into the light of the solar bulbs. Fully loved. Fully known.
A perfect moment.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
It's About Time
(Truest of confessions—I have struggled with the tense of this post. Past and present tense verbs have poured from my heart. What I did then. What I am doing now. I have decided to go with present tense. Primarily because I am not writing about a finished process. I am writing about a cycle that my life continues to churn through. It is my deepest desire to live victoriously, in Christ’s power, over the idolatry I have embraced for far too long.)
Approval.
Even the word makes me happy. The receiving of it produces in me a high that modesty does not allow expression of.
Approval is as satisfying when received privately as publicly. It is not the attention that draws. Just the validation that someone views Me as worthwhile and important.
I have devoted parents and had devoted grandparents. I have the blessing of gracious friends and family. By most worldly standards, I have been successful.
I have received in roses, awards, words of affirmation and adoring love: Approval.
Healthy and encouraging.
It is in my life as a gift.
But through the years, I fashioned it into a savior.
And I set it above everything else.
Achieving the esteem of my family and peers became an “art” and passion that I reveled in and gained applause for.
I’m not sure the exact moment this seemingly innocuous issue grew fangs and poisonous tentacles.
But, painfully, I began to realize that the quest for approval often ended in disappointment. Other’s disappointment in me. My disappointment in others.
Approval, as a savior, wasn’t so very successful. In fact, instead of saving, the focused quest was defeating me. Over and over again.
It astounds me that such a painful and barbed life mate has remained my adoring pursuit for so very long.
Despite the pain and ineffectual efforts, I continue to tuck the idol away and hallow it in my heart. I allow it sole influence in decision-making and sole judgment on my life choices.
Circumstance and life choices inevitably remove the approval of others from my grasp. In painful and heart wrenching developments, I realize that the approval I perceived in relationships was only a fleeting facade. And this breaks me every time. The apparent failure of my well-honed ability to gain (earn) the respect of others is the wound that festers and penetrates my soul. I cannot control what is happening. I am judged.
And my loss closet is opened.
Every moment of just or unjust negative treatment in my life parades in my mind. The precious Word of God surrounds it “Love keeps no record of wrongs…” and I struggle to give His Word sole ownership of my attention.
But the parade marches continual with a drum cadence I do not choose to ignore.
In the defeat of the reminiscing, I cry out to God. (He’s still there)
I repent and confess my self-centeredness. I cry and I mourn the brokenness.
I focus again, on Christ.
I feel the brush of a scar as His hand strokes my cheek and then lifts my chin setting my gaze on His face. To see His eyes. To read His heart. The Heart of God.
This is happening despite me.
Oh, dear friends, how it heals. And hurts.
I have the opportunity, through the wounds of my broken state to have no strength in myself left to even observe the parade of the past. No strength to earn approval back.
The cadence of my parade of loss becomes an annoyance and I crawl into the cocoon of His stillness and peace. I confess and shelter in His Wings.
And the Light shines.
The temptation to focus on other’s thoughts and opinions first, is silenced by the bold and honest voice of a Father Who Knows All Things.
He never compromises the Integrity of His Being to coddle or cajole me. He authentically loves, purifies, illuminates and adores.
I am overwhelmed at how amazing it feels. His Love.
How readily it pours out into broken me. How I am not working or doing or perceiving or knowing. I am just resting. And the love pours excessively into every crack, fissure and open space.
His voice is so much clearer. His Way is bright in front of me. I do not feel sure of the next steps and I must repeatedly confess my worry and anxiety to traverse this road less traveled.
The loud voices are laughing and celebrating and persuading on the other road. The road that I am familiar with. Where approval and accolades and the pleasing of others is an acceptable and expected guiding force. As I turn my head ever so slightly to the recognizable sounds I feel the emptiness expanding. The confusion setting in. The ultimate defeat encroaching.
There is another way.
And I choose.
To hear Only His Voice.
Deliberate and intentional.
And yet, falling short.
I call out to His Spirit, to remind and to teach. (John 14:26) And I step.
I step onto a narrow path, often illuminated one path-stone at a time. And I find there.
Everything. This unknown and unrehearsed walk is the Life I have longed for.
Abundant, thriving Life.
I dance, unencumbered by the pretense that I am in control.
I celebrate, passionate and undignified.
Unashamed.
The Light around me warms me as I am held in the knowing gaze of cherished Truth.
My Lord and My God!
He, who delights in me. And fully knows me.
All these years of comprehending Your presence. And yet choosing my own, hard-to-earn self-saving way.
Now, wholly consumed by my One and Only Savior. Truly free.
Surrendered.
It’s about time.
“Dear children, keep yourselves from idols.” 1John 5:21
Approval.
Even the word makes me happy. The receiving of it produces in me a high that modesty does not allow expression of.
Approval is as satisfying when received privately as publicly. It is not the attention that draws. Just the validation that someone views Me as worthwhile and important.
I have devoted parents and had devoted grandparents. I have the blessing of gracious friends and family. By most worldly standards, I have been successful.
I have received in roses, awards, words of affirmation and adoring love: Approval.
Healthy and encouraging.
It is in my life as a gift.
But through the years, I fashioned it into a savior.
And I set it above everything else.
Achieving the esteem of my family and peers became an “art” and passion that I reveled in and gained applause for.
I’m not sure the exact moment this seemingly innocuous issue grew fangs and poisonous tentacles.
But, painfully, I began to realize that the quest for approval often ended in disappointment. Other’s disappointment in me. My disappointment in others.
Approval, as a savior, wasn’t so very successful. In fact, instead of saving, the focused quest was defeating me. Over and over again.
It astounds me that such a painful and barbed life mate has remained my adoring pursuit for so very long.
Despite the pain and ineffectual efforts, I continue to tuck the idol away and hallow it in my heart. I allow it sole influence in decision-making and sole judgment on my life choices.
“What does everyone else think?”
Circumstance and life choices inevitably remove the approval of others from my grasp. In painful and heart wrenching developments, I realize that the approval I perceived in relationships was only a fleeting facade. And this breaks me every time. The apparent failure of my well-honed ability to gain (earn) the respect of others is the wound that festers and penetrates my soul. I cannot control what is happening. I am judged.
And my loss closet is opened.
Every moment of just or unjust negative treatment in my life parades in my mind. The precious Word of God surrounds it “Love keeps no record of wrongs…” and I struggle to give His Word sole ownership of my attention.
But the parade marches continual with a drum cadence I do not choose to ignore.
In the defeat of the reminiscing, I cry out to God. (He’s still there)
I repent and confess my self-centeredness. I cry and I mourn the brokenness.
I focus again, on Christ.
I feel the brush of a scar as His hand strokes my cheek and then lifts my chin setting my gaze on His face. To see His eyes. To read His heart. The Heart of God.
This is happening despite me.
Oh, dear friends, how it heals. And hurts.
I have the opportunity, through the wounds of my broken state to have no strength in myself left to even observe the parade of the past. No strength to earn approval back.
The cadence of my parade of loss becomes an annoyance and I crawl into the cocoon of His stillness and peace. I confess and shelter in His Wings.
And the Light shines.
The temptation to focus on other’s thoughts and opinions first, is silenced by the bold and honest voice of a Father Who Knows All Things.
He never compromises the Integrity of His Being to coddle or cajole me. He authentically loves, purifies, illuminates and adores.
I am overwhelmed at how amazing it feels. His Love.
How readily it pours out into broken me. How I am not working or doing or perceiving or knowing. I am just resting. And the love pours excessively into every crack, fissure and open space.
His voice is so much clearer. His Way is bright in front of me. I do not feel sure of the next steps and I must repeatedly confess my worry and anxiety to traverse this road less traveled.
The loud voices are laughing and celebrating and persuading on the other road. The road that I am familiar with. Where approval and accolades and the pleasing of others is an acceptable and expected guiding force. As I turn my head ever so slightly to the recognizable sounds I feel the emptiness expanding. The confusion setting in. The ultimate defeat encroaching.
There is another way.
And I choose.
To hear Only His Voice.
Deliberate and intentional.
And yet, falling short.
I call out to His Spirit, to remind and to teach. (John 14:26) And I step.
I step onto a narrow path, often illuminated one path-stone at a time. And I find there.
Everything. This unknown and unrehearsed walk is the Life I have longed for.
Abundant, thriving Life.
I dance, unencumbered by the pretense that I am in control.
I celebrate, passionate and undignified.
Unashamed.
The Light around me warms me as I am held in the knowing gaze of cherished Truth.
My Lord and My God!
He, who delights in me. And fully knows me.
All these years of comprehending Your presence. And yet choosing my own, hard-to-earn self-saving way.
Now, wholly consumed by my One and Only Savior. Truly free.
Surrendered.
It’s about time.
"And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us...." I John 4:14-16a
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
True Love
Eighteen years ago today, Jeff Cash informed me that I was the girl he would marry. It wasn't so much a proposal (that would come later) as it was a revelation. He had prayed. And he knew.
I pondered the idea with joy but wondered what in the world we were getting ourselves into.
Truth was, I knew it too. We were going to be married. But I needed more time to acknowledge the incredible gift. Jeff's life paths most often went straight uphill and fast. Mine more comfortably meandered and plodded.
God must have known the impact of crossing those divergent paths. He did not give us any warning though. Just sealed us with the covenant of marriage and promised to never leave or forsake us.
Good thing.
Eighteen years ago today, God gave Jeff Cash an idea. I was right about it. We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into. But God did. And He could see, it was very, very good.
I pondered the idea with joy but wondered what in the world we were getting ourselves into.
Truth was, I knew it too. We were going to be married. But I needed more time to acknowledge the incredible gift. Jeff's life paths most often went straight uphill and fast. Mine more comfortably meandered and plodded.
God must have known the impact of crossing those divergent paths. He did not give us any warning though. Just sealed us with the covenant of marriage and promised to never leave or forsake us.
Good thing.
Jeff,
I am remembering our first hike. We had been married three or four weeks. And we were hiking to Timberline. A few hours in and I was miserable and tired. You were energized and thrilled. You carried my backpack together with your own and left love notes for me on the trail to encourage me. I missed some of the messages because I was so frustrated with the hike. There were biting flies and it was SO VERY HOT. You seemed oblivious to those struggles and continuously pointed my eyes to the incredible views and vistas around us. I grumbled. And I quit. You would not give up. You persuaded and encouraged. You waited and you urged. I would eventually dry my tears and move forward. You would applaud. We had so much to learn about each other. In the end, we successfully completed the climb. We celebrated over the most fabulous food I had ever tasted.
We've hiked many "trails" since then. Despite the variety in our journey through the years, it is amazing to me how often we replay that same scenario. (sigh)
By no small miracle or Grace, we have learned a thing or two about each other haven't we?
I didn't miss your love note today. And I am very aware when you lift the load off my back so I can succeed. The view around us is still breathtaking despite the struggles of circumstance, and I am blessed when you remind me to lift up my eyes. My anxiety and fear often eek out despite my best intentions. But walking with you on these trails is the adventure of my life and I truly wouldn't choose to be anywhere else than on the path with you.
A grueling uphill climb. A peaceful plateau. A freezing cold coastline. A Louisiana swamp. A fabulous meal to refuel our strength.
Together.
You are a very good man. I'm so thankful to walk with you.
I love you--Cheryl
Eighteen years ago today, God gave Jeff Cash an idea. I was right about it. We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into. But God did. And He could see, it was very, very good.
Friday, February 11, 2011
For the Next Hour...
“The answers God is willing to give us in our tomorrows often flow from our faithfulness when we have none today.” (Beth Moore John, 90 Days with the Beloved Disciple)
A season. A time. Fleeting.
The seasons don't always feel so fleeting though.
Often, in the narrowness of my own sight, the painful steps seem endless. The seemingly apparent irresolution of suffering looms continual.
And yet..
In Christ…
Circumstances are defined differently. The seen and the unseen.
The Word of Yahweh stands. Forever.
His Word is the path. And the point.
The waiting (while trodding) requires the emptying. The revealing of the “me”. The pouring it out. The continual surrendering of my plans, my understanding.
But “the time spent awaiting further enlightenment and fuller harvest are meant to bulge with relationship”. (Beth Moore John 90 Days with the Beloved Disciple)
The waiting and the pouring simultaneous with the filling and the overflowing.
Relationship with Christ. We are NOT ALONE.
His Word stands. And never returns void.
Let me faithfully walk the next hour, Father, fully cognizant of YOUR WORD expanding US (You and me—what graciousness!), building US, hearing your Voice: it’s tone, inflection, ITS DEEP LOVE. Knowing fully that this endless path is in fact OURS, Yours Lord and mine. And that the “endless-ness” explodes with glory and peace and abundance in You alone. Let me utter trust and faith into the laughing face of failing circumstance and pain. I BELIEVE in YOU.
Find me faithful. Because of the Faith you so graciously provide.
Delight in the Faithful One, dear friends. Irregardless of what you SEE.
Just for one more hour. ☺
A season. A time. Fleeting.
The seasons don't always feel so fleeting though.
Often, in the narrowness of my own sight, the painful steps seem endless. The seemingly apparent irresolution of suffering looms continual.
And yet..
In Christ…
Circumstances are defined differently. The seen and the unseen.
“All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord stands forever. “ 1 Peter 1:24-25, Isaiah 40:6-8
The Word of Yahweh stands. Forever.
His Word is the path. And the point.
The waiting (while trodding) requires the emptying. The revealing of the “me”. The pouring it out. The continual surrendering of my plans, my understanding.
But “the time spent awaiting further enlightenment and fuller harvest are meant to bulge with relationship”. (Beth Moore John 90 Days with the Beloved Disciple)
The waiting and the pouring simultaneous with the filling and the overflowing.
Relationship with Christ. We are NOT ALONE.
His Word stands. And never returns void.
Let me faithfully walk the next hour, Father, fully cognizant of YOUR WORD expanding US (You and me—what graciousness!), building US, hearing your Voice: it’s tone, inflection, ITS DEEP LOVE. Knowing fully that this endless path is in fact OURS, Yours Lord and mine. And that the “endless-ness” explodes with glory and peace and abundance in You alone. Let me utter trust and faith into the laughing face of failing circumstance and pain. I BELIEVE in YOU.
Find me faithful. Because of the Faith you so graciously provide.
“Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness.” Psalm 115:1
Delight in the Faithful One, dear friends. Irregardless of what you SEE.
Just for one more hour. ☺
Friday, February 04, 2011
Snapshots of Grace
I first heard of the ailment when I was in kindergarten. Endearing snapshots emerge from my foggy kid-brain memory. My normally unflappable Dad’s deep concern. Missing school. Granny waving at me as Dad held her up in the bed.
A stroke. Blod clots. Paralyzed.
She spent her days in a brown swivel chair then. With a crocheted lap blanket over her legs. There was a wheel chair that would transport her to the table, to the car, to church and to the bed. Grandpa faithfully took her where she needed to go.
She had pink word cards with names and pictures for her to practice. We celebrated when she would master any word. I can still hear her intentional and rehearsed “I (pause) love (pause) you.” And then her smile.
Another stroke left her unable to sit. Our family moved out the couches and moved in her bed. There would be no sequestered room for Granny. Center. Of. Attention. Just the way she liked it. Or just the way we needed it, to be more precise.
She loved having us all around her. My baby sister would stand by the bed and giggle. Then Granny would giggle. Then Cherise would giggle. And before we knew it, we were all enveloped in raucous, tear brimming laughter. Simply because it felt so good. In the midst of all that struggle.
Two things Granny never surrendered to the strokes: the word “Amen” and the song "Amazing Grace."
She would echo “Amen” after every prayer and she loved to sing that song. I can hear her voice even today. She would pat the cadence of the music with her right hand. Most of the words she could not speak outside of the melody. But with the music, she would sing.
I’ve been thinking of Granny often these last few weeks and mentally flipping through these “snapshots”.
Stroke has crashed in on dear family again and in the wake of it’s crashing, the Lord has brought to our attention several others struggling through the hold of this illness. Jeff’s Uncle Gene fell suddenly just after Christmas. We joined a prayer chain on Facebook for Charlie Middlebrook. I was informed of a blogger (38 yr old mother of two) who suddenly collapsed at her home around the new year. And then, Aunt Clare.
Atwooki Clare and I have corresponded for many years and had close contact in the last few. She was the beloved aunt of my dear friend Rebecca. Rebecca (who we lost nearly 9 years ago) spoke with deep love and appreciation for Aunt Clare and that respect has remained in my head and heart from her adoring reports.
Peace shared on Sunday that Aunt Clare was not well. She had a stroke. She lay in a bed at Buhinga hospital.
I could not match any of the snapshots in my mind with what could be expected in Buhinga hospital. What would stroke look like in this often harsh, third world?
Jeff and I arranged to visit her soon.
I was encouraged that her eyes flashed bright awareness and joy at our approach. She even managed to pull herself to a sitting position and reach for my hand. She was very thin. They told me that she was eating, but could not speak.
I asked her if she would like for me to read to her. Her nodding approval delivered me back to her bedside the next day. I had prayerfully asked God to direct me to a Psalm for Clare.
Psalm 103.
I sat on her bed, held her hand and read:
‘All my inmost being’—as I look into the eyes of an inmost being who has no way to express I was powerfully aware that God hears her cries.
I was crying then. And so was Clare.
Our “youth renewed like the eagles…” how powerfully that speaks to me as I file through the images of Uncle Gene’s rehabilitation, memories of my Granny, holding the hand of Aunt Clare.
“He knows that we are dust… But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him…”
What we are, physically, is fleeting. Who He is in us, is eternal.
Praying for Uncle Gene and Aunt Marilee, Charlie Middlebrook, Joanne, and Atwooki Clare. May the eternity in your hearts soar to amazing heights. May His great compassion fall powerfully upon your heads and your families’ spirits.
Amazing Grace.
A stroke. Blod clots. Paralyzed.
She spent her days in a brown swivel chair then. With a crocheted lap blanket over her legs. There was a wheel chair that would transport her to the table, to the car, to church and to the bed. Grandpa faithfully took her where she needed to go.
She had pink word cards with names and pictures for her to practice. We celebrated when she would master any word. I can still hear her intentional and rehearsed “I (pause) love (pause) you.” And then her smile.
Another stroke left her unable to sit. Our family moved out the couches and moved in her bed. There would be no sequestered room for Granny. Center. Of. Attention. Just the way she liked it. Or just the way we needed it, to be more precise.
She loved having us all around her. My baby sister would stand by the bed and giggle. Then Granny would giggle. Then Cherise would giggle. And before we knew it, we were all enveloped in raucous, tear brimming laughter. Simply because it felt so good. In the midst of all that struggle.
Two things Granny never surrendered to the strokes: the word “Amen” and the song "Amazing Grace."
She would echo “Amen” after every prayer and she loved to sing that song. I can hear her voice even today. She would pat the cadence of the music with her right hand. Most of the words she could not speak outside of the melody. But with the music, she would sing.
I’ve been thinking of Granny often these last few weeks and mentally flipping through these “snapshots”.
Stroke has crashed in on dear family again and in the wake of it’s crashing, the Lord has brought to our attention several others struggling through the hold of this illness. Jeff’s Uncle Gene fell suddenly just after Christmas. We joined a prayer chain on Facebook for Charlie Middlebrook. I was informed of a blogger (38 yr old mother of two) who suddenly collapsed at her home around the new year. And then, Aunt Clare.
Atwooki Clare and I have corresponded for many years and had close contact in the last few. She was the beloved aunt of my dear friend Rebecca. Rebecca (who we lost nearly 9 years ago) spoke with deep love and appreciation for Aunt Clare and that respect has remained in my head and heart from her adoring reports.
Peace shared on Sunday that Aunt Clare was not well. She had a stroke. She lay in a bed at Buhinga hospital.
I could not match any of the snapshots in my mind with what could be expected in Buhinga hospital. What would stroke look like in this often harsh, third world?
Jeff and I arranged to visit her soon.
I was encouraged that her eyes flashed bright awareness and joy at our approach. She even managed to pull herself to a sitting position and reach for my hand. She was very thin. They told me that she was eating, but could not speak.
I asked her if she would like for me to read to her. Her nodding approval delivered me back to her bedside the next day. I had prayerfully asked God to direct me to a Psalm for Clare.
Psalm 103.
I sat on her bed, held her hand and read:
“Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name.”
‘All my inmost being’—as I look into the eyes of an inmost being who has no way to express I was powerfully aware that God hears her cries.
“Praise the Lord O my soul, and forget not all his benefits—who forgives your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.”
I was crying then. And so was Clare.
“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.
He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more,
But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children—with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.
The Lord has established his throne in heaven, and his kingdom rules over all.
Praise the Lord you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding, who obey his word. Praise the Lord all his heavenly hosts, you his servants who do his will. Praise the Lord all his works everywhere in his dominion. Praise the Lord, O my soul.”
Our “youth renewed like the eagles…” how powerfully that speaks to me as I file through the images of Uncle Gene’s rehabilitation, memories of my Granny, holding the hand of Aunt Clare.
“He knows that we are dust… But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him…”
What we are, physically, is fleeting. Who He is in us, is eternal.
“Amazing grace! How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I'm found, was blind but now I see."
Praying for Uncle Gene and Aunt Marilee, Charlie Middlebrook, Joanne, and Atwooki Clare. May the eternity in your hearts soar to amazing heights. May His great compassion fall powerfully upon your heads and your families’ spirits.
Amazing Grace.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Voice of a King
"Not everybody could be famous but everybody can be great because greatness is determined by service."
— — Martin Luther King Jr.
Martin Luther King, Jr quotes have peppered my Facebook updates and inspired my heart this week.
Today though, another King is on my mind.
M.D. King.
Though Martin Luther King Jr. surely has more widespread and well known quotes--it is the voice of M.D. King that is so ingrained in my psyche as to effect my Every Day. To effect the most monumental. To effect my life.
My Granddaddy. I can't remember ever hearing him give a speech. In crowds and groups, he was mostly a quiet observer.
But his persistent adoration and faithful love for all of his family, buoys me even today.
When asked recently by a good friend, to picture in my mind the safest place I could imagine, it was Granddaddy and Mam-ma's house that was immediately evoked.
Did they ever know how LOUD their love would play in my heart? How, even today, as an adult, each wave of adversity is faced with strength from their support. Their "voice" in my life.
That is, in fact, an enduring legacy. One to be noted. And celebrated.
On this, the date of M.D. King's birth, I'll tell my kids his story. I'll "quote" his quotes. I'll mark his service.
I'll remind my offspring of his part of their story.
And we will always call him Great.
Mukama Onyirize
She buried another child recently. There are two graves now with small headstones.
The tears are long past. But the hollowness in her eyes is revealed as we talk.
She shows me hospital notices. We discuss the labored days of care.
I express my sorrow for her loss and we pray.
Her carefully written notes are for Psalm 86.
We read.
As we ponder the words and the Psalmist’s heart…
One message presses into my heart and pours out in explanation.
God is meant to be near.
He is not far off, unfeeling and cold.
He knows the dark and treacherous places that bind us. And he waits there. Longing to set us free.
He. Is. There.
As we weep. When we fail. When we break. In the midst of our ugly, ugliness.
When I prepared to depart she showed me the words of some Rutoro songs she wants to teach to our church. I asked her to sing a verse of the first song.
“Mukama onyirize…” repeated throughout the chorus.
She smiles awareness that this melody is not randomly chosen.
“God, come near.”
“Mukama onyirize.”
For one broken daughter, burying her children and struggling to live through.
Indeed, for any broken daughter.
“Mukama onyirize.”
Let it be so.
The tears are long past. But the hollowness in her eyes is revealed as we talk.
She shows me hospital notices. We discuss the labored days of care.
I express my sorrow for her loss and we pray.
Her carefully written notes are for Psalm 86.
We read.
As we ponder the words and the Psalmist’s heart…
One message presses into my heart and pours out in explanation.
God is meant to be near.
He is not far off, unfeeling and cold.
He knows the dark and treacherous places that bind us. And he waits there. Longing to set us free.
He. Is. There.
As we weep. When we fail. When we break. In the midst of our ugly, ugliness.
When I prepared to depart she showed me the words of some Rutoro songs she wants to teach to our church. I asked her to sing a verse of the first song.
“Mukama onyirize…” repeated throughout the chorus.
She smiles awareness that this melody is not randomly chosen.
“God, come near.”
“Mukama onyirize.”
For one broken daughter, burying her children and struggling to live through.
Indeed, for any broken daughter.
“Mukama onyirize.”
Let it be so.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Stand Firm
It was October. The day was warm. The equatorial sun was rising and gaining strength as mid day approached. Worship was in full swing for the town church.
The meandering arrivals had slowed and the chairs were filled. The worship songs had us on our feet. The opened tent flaps beat time to the rhythmic cadence of the praise chorus. One song after another. Swahili. English. Luganda. Runyankore. Lingala. Rutoro. Many of the words I cannot directly translate. But the phrases, the idea is clear. We are worshipping a God we need. A God who acts. A God who speaks.
On this particular Sunday, Isaiah called to me. Words from that long ago prophet that spoke right into the depths of my soul. To my heart. I read the words during the worship. I prayed the words during prayer.
And I heard...
“Stand firm, beloved.”
A gentle whisper to my soul as startling as a loud shout. Bold irony.
“Stand firm.”
As the Swahili choruses swirled around me, I returned to prayer.
“What do you mean exactly, Father, when you say ‘stand firm’? Which circumstance do I apply this too?”
“Pick one, beloved. Stand firm. I will make all things new.”
New.
“Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” 1Cor 15:58
Many times, I stand--cowered. This is the "old" in my life. The well-rehearsed. The usual.
I obey. But hesitantly. Second-guessing.
But my Father's directive was "Firm". Steadfast. Unflinching.
And I know, from years of painful failing, that this directive is completely impossible for fearing little me.
Which is the point.
He is the point.
"Stand firm."
How?
Only in Him. With Him. By Him.
I intentionally practice the spreading wide my arms to receive all the His Spirit provides, even the bitter cup. And Stand.
“For you, O God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let men ride over our heads, we went through fire and water but you brought us to a place of abundance.” Psalms66:10-12
Standing firm. (Because He stood first.)
Abundance is always just ahead.
Maranatha!
The meandering arrivals had slowed and the chairs were filled. The worship songs had us on our feet. The opened tent flaps beat time to the rhythmic cadence of the praise chorus. One song after another. Swahili. English. Luganda. Runyankore. Lingala. Rutoro. Many of the words I cannot directly translate. But the phrases, the idea is clear. We are worshipping a God we need. A God who acts. A God who speaks.
On this particular Sunday, Isaiah called to me. Words from that long ago prophet that spoke right into the depths of my soul. To my heart. I read the words during the worship. I prayed the words during prayer.
And I heard...
“Stand firm, beloved.”
A gentle whisper to my soul as startling as a loud shout. Bold irony.
“Stand firm.”
As the Swahili choruses swirled around me, I returned to prayer.
“What do you mean exactly, Father, when you say ‘stand firm’? Which circumstance do I apply this too?”
“Pick one, beloved. Stand firm. I will make all things new.”
New.
“Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” 1Cor 15:58
Many times, I stand--cowered. This is the "old" in my life. The well-rehearsed. The usual.
I obey. But hesitantly. Second-guessing.
But my Father's directive was "Firm". Steadfast. Unflinching.
And I know, from years of painful failing, that this directive is completely impossible for fearing little me.
Which is the point.
He is the point.
"Stand firm."
How?
Only in Him. With Him. By Him.
I intentionally practice the spreading wide my arms to receive all the His Spirit provides, even the bitter cup. And Stand.
“For you, O God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let men ride over our heads, we went through fire and water but you brought us to a place of abundance.” Psalms66:10-12
Standing firm. (Because He stood first.)
Abundance is always just ahead.
Maranatha!
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Table Turning
We have a small white table that sits in the center of our kitchen.
It is oval shaped and from the day it began inhabiting our cooking space, it sat East-West.
Two days ago, I turned the table. It now sits North-South.
My family was astounded and the redirected oval has drawn much commentary.
“Um. Mom. What’s wrong in here?”
“Hey. Did you move something?”
“”Wow! There is more room.”
“I don’t like it.”
“It looks great!”
“It’s messed up my pacing pattern!”
“When I talk to you in the kitchen, I don’t know where to stand.”
(smile)
New.
A word pondered, celebrated and repeated at this time of year.
A word I am wholeheartedly embracing.
Two days ago, I turned a table in my kitchen.
And each morning, I turn some tables in my heart.
A change of perspective. A redefinition of space. Momentary discomfort and inconvenience. A fresh result.
I persistently seek. Intentionally choose.
One new day at a time.
With Him.
His “table turning” produces the impossible.
"A way in the desert."
"A stream in the wasteland."
Hope for the hopeless places.
Amen and amen.
It is oval shaped and from the day it began inhabiting our cooking space, it sat East-West.
Two days ago, I turned the table. It now sits North-South.
My family was astounded and the redirected oval has drawn much commentary.
“Um. Mom. What’s wrong in here?”
“Hey. Did you move something?”
“”Wow! There is more room.”
“I don’t like it.”
“It looks great!”
“It’s messed up my pacing pattern!”
“When I talk to you in the kitchen, I don’t know where to stand.”
(smile)
New.
A word pondered, celebrated and repeated at this time of year.
A word I am wholeheartedly embracing.
“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.” Isaiah 43:18-19
Two days ago, I turned a table in my kitchen.
And each morning, I turn some tables in my heart.
A change of perspective. A redefinition of space. Momentary discomfort and inconvenience. A fresh result.
I persistently seek. Intentionally choose.
One new day at a time.
With Him.
His “table turning” produces the impossible.
"A way in the desert."
"A stream in the wasteland."
Hope for the hopeless places.
"Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3: 22-23
Amen and amen.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Things Were Not As I Expected
(No journal of Mary's thoughts exists. But I would so love to know all that passed through her mind and heart as she awaited Jesus' arrival. I have recorded my own guess at her experience here. The retelling of Christ's birth and early life can be found in Matthew 1-2 and Luke 1-2 )
Things were not exactly as I expected. From the moment that angel told me God’s plan and I accepted His will, shame and fear occupied my mind more often than not.
Immediately following the angels terrifying declaration, I felt the most euphoric blessing of God’s spirit fall on me. What a remarkable, unfathomable gift. I could not describe the experience to my pragmatic family or the traditional community around me. I silently experienced the promise unsure of my sanity every now and again.
I expected God to pave my way. Surely, if an angel had appeared to me, if I was chosen, then wouldn’t God tell everyone else too? And I hoped he would start with my Mother.
He didn’t.
He did not tell Abba or the Rabbis in our village. They knew the prophecies of our Messiah. But the reality of Him growing in Abba’s young daughter’s womb was more scandalous than could be tolerated in such a holy gift.
The angel did tell my betrothed. Praise Yahweh.
Joseph could have had me killed and many other men would have done just that to save their own name and honor. When Joseph took me into his home I was amazed.
He had a dream and the Lord told him too. And he believed the Lord.
I am so thankful for his obedience. Being taken into his home has not stopped the wagging tongues. But the pierce of their words was softened by the protectiveness of our marriage.
When I learned of our trip to Bethlehem I was at once relieved and afraid. I was eager to escape the doubting glances of my family…
But I was afraid that our baby would arrive in that far away village.
The trip was terribly long and miserable, only to reach Bethlehem and have no place to stay. We ended up sleeping in a stable. The smell was putrid to my sensitive nose and the ground was very cold and hard underneath my heavy body.
When my pains began I became terribly afraid. I was going to deliver this child in this distant place with no mother or sister or aunt to hold my hand, coach my process and mop my brow. Joseph’s eyes darted side to side to avoid mine. He was very uncomfortable in the moment but could obviously think of no where else to be. Was he remembering your words to him in the dream? Wondering if he had heard correctly? Sorry he was here now?
The pain was excruciating.
God, was that really you all those months ago?!? Was Elizabeth speaking from you when she prophesied this child’s future? Did Joseph see an angel too?
Because if you are so very involved, why in the world does it hurt this much?!?
I thought I had died. My body was ripping apart.
Beyond my control, I felt my body pushing. Every single portion of my body hurt. One push. Two pushes. Exhaustion. More work.
And then when I thought I could take no more--- A cry. A wail. And the most amazing sweet relief of my life. Praise Jehovah. He was there.
Time seemed to stop. In that stable. On that cold floor. The only sounds were my heaving breaths, Joseph’s scurrying to care for us and Yeshua’s cries.
Joseph’s eyes were awash with amazement. He was drawn into those precious eyes and the miracle of the tiny hands and feet. I could not stop looking at each part of our miracle.
Lord have mercy, I was in love.
A son!!! Yeshua. Jesus.
He was crying. And I was crying. And Joseph was crying.
At once comprehending my complete lack of comprehension! Unfathomable greatness.
All of heaven seemed to sing. And yet only silence sounded around us. The three of us. Alone.
I held our boy drinking in his scent and hanging on each tiny breath. He slept and I stared. I was unable to look anywhere else. We were all exhausted. All amazed.
Our tiny trio was interrupted by the sound of scurrying men. Joseph went to see who was calling on this stable so late in the night. Maybe weary travelers, come to sleep on this ground with us.
Joseph led the scraggly crew into our scene. The men were shepherds. And they smelled of work and pasture and sheep. Their eyes held amazement and wonder and they knelt before Jesus and worshiped him. Angels had told them to come.
Of course.
Angels continued to proclaim Him.
But who would have ever imagined to whom they would proclaim.
A poor carpenter, shamed by the expanding middle of his betrothed. A barren elderly couple. Shepherds.
Me.
Who am I?!?!
Will I ever completely understand?
All I know is that I am in love. With my Yeshua. He has my heart and, in ponderings and piercings, I will never have it back.
Things were not exactly as I expected. From the moment that angel told me God’s plan and I accepted His will, shame and fear occupied my mind more often than not.
Immediately following the angels terrifying declaration, I felt the most euphoric blessing of God’s spirit fall on me. What a remarkable, unfathomable gift. I could not describe the experience to my pragmatic family or the traditional community around me. I silently experienced the promise unsure of my sanity every now and again.
I expected God to pave my way. Surely, if an angel had appeared to me, if I was chosen, then wouldn’t God tell everyone else too? And I hoped he would start with my Mother.
He didn’t.
He did not tell Abba or the Rabbis in our village. They knew the prophecies of our Messiah. But the reality of Him growing in Abba’s young daughter’s womb was more scandalous than could be tolerated in such a holy gift.
The angel did tell my betrothed. Praise Yahweh.
Joseph could have had me killed and many other men would have done just that to save their own name and honor. When Joseph took me into his home I was amazed.
He had a dream and the Lord told him too. And he believed the Lord.
I am so thankful for his obedience. Being taken into his home has not stopped the wagging tongues. But the pierce of their words was softened by the protectiveness of our marriage.
When I learned of our trip to Bethlehem I was at once relieved and afraid. I was eager to escape the doubting glances of my family…
But I was afraid that our baby would arrive in that far away village.
The trip was terribly long and miserable, only to reach Bethlehem and have no place to stay. We ended up sleeping in a stable. The smell was putrid to my sensitive nose and the ground was very cold and hard underneath my heavy body.
When my pains began I became terribly afraid. I was going to deliver this child in this distant place with no mother or sister or aunt to hold my hand, coach my process and mop my brow. Joseph’s eyes darted side to side to avoid mine. He was very uncomfortable in the moment but could obviously think of no where else to be. Was he remembering your words to him in the dream? Wondering if he had heard correctly? Sorry he was here now?
The pain was excruciating.
God, was that really you all those months ago?!? Was Elizabeth speaking from you when she prophesied this child’s future? Did Joseph see an angel too?
Because if you are so very involved, why in the world does it hurt this much?!?
I thought I had died. My body was ripping apart.
Beyond my control, I felt my body pushing. Every single portion of my body hurt. One push. Two pushes. Exhaustion. More work.
And then when I thought I could take no more--- A cry. A wail. And the most amazing sweet relief of my life. Praise Jehovah. He was there.
Time seemed to stop. In that stable. On that cold floor. The only sounds were my heaving breaths, Joseph’s scurrying to care for us and Yeshua’s cries.
Joseph’s eyes were awash with amazement. He was drawn into those precious eyes and the miracle of the tiny hands and feet. I could not stop looking at each part of our miracle.
Lord have mercy, I was in love.
A son!!! Yeshua. Jesus.
He was crying. And I was crying. And Joseph was crying.
At once comprehending my complete lack of comprehension! Unfathomable greatness.
All of heaven seemed to sing. And yet only silence sounded around us. The three of us. Alone.
I held our boy drinking in his scent and hanging on each tiny breath. He slept and I stared. I was unable to look anywhere else. We were all exhausted. All amazed.
Our tiny trio was interrupted by the sound of scurrying men. Joseph went to see who was calling on this stable so late in the night. Maybe weary travelers, come to sleep on this ground with us.
Joseph led the scraggly crew into our scene. The men were shepherds. And they smelled of work and pasture and sheep. Their eyes held amazement and wonder and they knelt before Jesus and worshiped him. Angels had told them to come.
Of course.
Angels continued to proclaim Him.
But who would have ever imagined to whom they would proclaim.
A poor carpenter, shamed by the expanding middle of his betrothed. A barren elderly couple. Shepherds.
Me.
Who am I?!?!
Will I ever completely understand?
All I know is that I am in love. With my Yeshua. He has my heart and, in ponderings and piercings, I will never have it back.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Light and Momentary
Four long hours. I had to try. Something in my idealistic nature still alive after years of brusque reality.
Our bill is wrong. It has been wrong for too many years to divulge. We have written letters, requested technicians and endured mocking disdain from the officials who refuse to correct their mistakes.
Most simplistically, we have been robbed.
And we may not be able to prove it.
So. Yesterday. After much prayer and confidence gathering, I slipped into the office to plead our case. Again.
Four hours left us with no resolution. Only deeper frustration. And red puffy eyes. My tears were cleansing and healthy and private. But proved nothing.
This morning, a daily reading from Jesus Calling by Sarah Young:
"When you are plagued by a persistent problem---one that goes on and on---view it as a rich opportunity. An ongoing problem is like a tutor that is always by your side. The learning possibilities are limited only by your willingness to be teachable. In faith, thank me for your problem. Ask me to open your eyes and your heart to all that I am accomplishing through this difficulty. Once you have become grateful for a problem, it loses it's power to drag you down."
An idea I've heard before.
"Consider it pure joy my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance." James 1: 2-3
And again:
"For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Cor 4:17-18
Heading into this day, thanking God for the robbery and all He can teach me through it. Asking for courage to maintain that posture even when the going feels tough.
Maranatha!
Our bill is wrong. It has been wrong for too many years to divulge. We have written letters, requested technicians and endured mocking disdain from the officials who refuse to correct their mistakes.
Most simplistically, we have been robbed.
And we may not be able to prove it.
So. Yesterday. After much prayer and confidence gathering, I slipped into the office to plead our case. Again.
Four hours left us with no resolution. Only deeper frustration. And red puffy eyes. My tears were cleansing and healthy and private. But proved nothing.
This morning, a daily reading from Jesus Calling by Sarah Young:
"When you are plagued by a persistent problem---one that goes on and on---view it as a rich opportunity. An ongoing problem is like a tutor that is always by your side. The learning possibilities are limited only by your willingness to be teachable. In faith, thank me for your problem. Ask me to open your eyes and your heart to all that I am accomplishing through this difficulty. Once you have become grateful for a problem, it loses it's power to drag you down."
An idea I've heard before.
"Consider it pure joy my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance." James 1: 2-3
And again:
"For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Cor 4:17-18
Heading into this day, thanking God for the robbery and all He can teach me through it. Asking for courage to maintain that posture even when the going feels tough.
Maranatha!
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