
Sunday, January 18, 2009
January 18, 2009

Saturday, January 17, 2009
Beckons Me

Thursday, January 15, 2009
Roxanne!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Flying
One of the most disturbing elements of our present culture is our ability to believe that what makes us happy will by universal default makes those around us happy. As though no one can enjoy their lives if we are not enjoying every moment of ours. We are that important. My first awareness of this was years and years ago, probably as a kid, when I heard of the the phenomena wherein a parent becomes a better parent when they are "happy" and so their child benefits. I know you've heard this philosophy connected to divorce. The kid bounces between two homes, adjusts to new boyfriends, girlfriends and step parents who may or may not be there for the long haul. The kid changes their entire concept of mom and dad family to include whomever enters into their lives post divorce...step sibs, aunts, uncles, grands. They learn not be to sad that mom or dad isn't at home any more and we call it progress. What these children learn is to lower their expectations. They never really learn to be happy because mom or dad is happier. And mom or dad don't become better parents because they got what they wanted. No, in fact, if getting your way is what makes you a better anything, you're a pretty crummy something to begin with.Monday, January 12, 2009
Leading Your Kids To The Throne

Joshua 3:9 And Joshua said unto the children of Israel, Come hither, and hear the words of the LORD your God.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
January 11, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Favorites
Friday, January 09, 2009
An Invitation.

Thursday, January 08, 2009
What I Believe

Wednesday, January 07, 2009
When It's Hard To Feel God

Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Witnessing

"I'll just fake it" says the kid.
"Uh..."
"And if you live in Africa and never even heard of Jesus you'll have to get the Mark of the Beast? That's bogus."
Monday, January 05, 2009
Kissed By Christ

I had never seen this picture before I did a Google search for an image to add to this post. I searched for the name of my childhood church, Mamre Assembly of God, hoping for a picture without success. Then I found this one and instantly knew, this is it. This is really the image that best describes my moment of accepting Jesus.
When I was about four years old my parents were informed that I had a hole between the chambers of my heart and would require surgery. My mom & dad were understandably frightened and like so many of us, this fear turned them toward church. Christian relatives of my mother's encouraged them to take me to a service where I could be prayed for. I don't know how much they were driven by faith and how much by desperation but they following this advice. My doctors re-examined me following this healing service we attended and found there was no heart murmur, the first hint of my defect. That was because there was no defect, the hole in my heart was closed and I did not require surgery. This was the turning point for my mom and dad. With tangible evidence of a loving, powerful and healing God before them; they gave their lives to the Lord and as a family we began to attend Mamre Assembly of God.
That was the catalyst for my acceptance of Christ as my personal savior but I have to admit, that is as much of a story as I have to share. I was so young that I really don't remember a time when I was not "saved." I remember being raised on the story of my miraculous healing and perhaps with this remarkable testimony I had no option within myself except to know that I was literally saved by Jesus. I never experienced the common teenage doubt nor do I recall not knowing the Lord. That's why this picture so spoke to me. This is really the story of my salvation. I think of Jesus as always having been there. I used to be embarrassed when there would be moments to share one's salvation experience. People had actual dates and times, they could tell you where they were and what was happening. They could often name the person who prayed with them and led them to the Lord. I don't have that. I have no before and after. This no longer bothers me because now I realize what great privilege I've experienced. To have always known him, to have no memory of a time when I did not know for certain he was right there beside me. That must be a painful thing, to live without the assurance of Jesus. I have been spared that.
As I grew up I would come to realize at various times that I needed to recommit myself to the Lord. I might reach a new understanding, another stage of maturity and in this new grasp of what salvation really meant I would feel compelled to recognize the great sacrifice made for me and I would have my own private moment of accepting what I now understood to be the payment for my sins. I have also had times in my life when I was in soul drift and would need to drop my anchor again at the cross to remind myself that salvation was free but could be lost.
As a little girl I knew only that Jesus was my Lord and I needed to serve him to spend eternity in heaven with him. Over the years since my four year old heart was knit back together, God has healed my heart time and time again; now in spiritual places. I have been taught now of the potential of my own sinful nature to bring a living and then an eternal death to me. I understand now that the blood of Christ provided the life that I could not gain on my own. I have only begun to grasp what manner of love this is.
So that is my salvation story, not very exciting, is it? Not rescued from drugs or prostitution. No, just a four year old little girl who walked into a church one evening with her parents. Just a simple life kissed by Christ.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Salvation

January 4, 2008
Friday, January 02, 2009
Sending My Regrets
When the offering plate passes or money is being collected for a cause, my goal of money in the bank closes my fist. However, to avoid regret I pry open my fingers. And I never regret the money I've given away.
On Christmas Eve I asked the Mr. if I should make Mexican Wedding Cake (our traditional Eve dessert) since we had baked so much. Then I went ahead and made it, didn't want to regret breaking with tradition or having daboyz ask where it was. I regret it when my jeans won't snap so I avoid pigging out (theoretically). The accomplishment of weight control happens in the process.
I don't want to regret shooting off my mouth, withholding forgiveness or letting an entire summer pass without eating fresh tomatoes. I don't want to regret not taking pictures once it's too late, I'd rather have boxes of a million photographs no one ever looks at. I don't want to regret hanging up the phone with the Mr. or Daboyz and not saying, "I love you." I don't want to regret not picking up the house when someone unexpectedly knocks on the door.
More than worrying about the not-dones on the life list, I hate the feeling of regret. Regret means I cannot change it, I can only try to mend it. And maybe I can't even do that.
With age comes wisdom (I made that up) so if there is an upside to middle age it is that I've made enough blunders to know I don't like the feeling of messing up.
Sometimes the Holy Spirit whispers, "do or don't do...you'll live to regret it."
I am learning to listen.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
The Year of Hope
Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;) And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works: Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Pray For Israel

Monday, December 29, 2008
Here Is The Church
When I became a nurse, by necessity I had to readjust the position of church in my life. I was working weekends for the first time ever. It was really hard to suddenly not be attending every weekend. Around the same time we started attending a new church. Maybe that was part of the "problem." Less opportunity to attend and not knowing anybody. Truthfully, I was not sad to have this change. Church had worn me out. Our new church did not have the traditional Sunday evening and Wednesday night services and I was glad. They had life groups, encouraging us to gather in homes to study and fellowship. We tried life groups. I believe we tried life groups five times and led about half of them. I don't like life groups. We forced ourselves to submit to the Metro's philosophy for a few years before we decided, no more life groups for us.
After thirty seven years of salvation and church attendance, I have no choice but to pursue God more for myself and stop depending on the church. The sermons rarely reveal a new truth to me. Yes, for a long time I did exactly what you are thinking I should do. I taught. And I loved it. But that season came and went too.
There are a lot of things about The Church I could criticize but that's not really the issue here. I am not less churchy because of bitterness or disappointment. The maturity gained from thirty seven years has already taken me through that phase and out the other side. On the other side is tremendous peace. Peace that the words or decisions of the Church People no longer keep me up at night. Peace that I can usually forgive in real time, as the offense happens. A result of those thirty seven years. Peace that I can know what things are my responsibility and what things are not, and to mind my own business. Peace that teaching can happen in a million different ways that are informal and title-free. Peace that learning can happen when I'm driving to work with the radio off and God has replaced a guy behind a lectern.
I have peace that in all of those church relationships that used to be held together with constant contact, we have come full circle. We see each other rarely and keep tabs on one another constantly. We love eternally. We do not hold each other's feet to the flames for blunders but hold each other's lives to the throne for anointing. Now that I have internal permission to find my own way, I have learned to love and be loved in freedom.
Today when people ask where I go to church, I say Metrosouth. Because that is the building that houses The Church. But in truth, I go to church continually. After all these years, the sermons that no longer challenge have been replaced by sermons preached in blizzarding skies and tangible joy that overtakes me when I quiet myself before my King. I am changed by the sermons that ring from memories of provision that have redefined memories of hardship. I am lifted up by sermons whispered from old ladies in the hospital who grab my hand in their gnarled fingers and say, "You have a blessed day Baby."
And what of worship? Mmm. Worship has worn so many robes in my life. The worship of a little girl who doesn't comprehend the miracle of salvation but acknowledges God out of obedience. The worship of a teenager trying to channel the angst and drama of her emotions into a power to touch God. The worship of a desperate young mom begging God to look in her direction. The worship of an adult grateful for safe passage thus far. Today I wear the worship of a woman continually astonished at the discovery of God in life. No longer do I journey to church to find him and try to store up enough to last until the next time. Worship has replaced the list of fears I used to share in prayer. It has become the larger part of my relationship with God, outbalancing the begging for help. I have become a woman who repents by worship, petitions by worship, asks by worship, loves by worship. I have found that fear cannot remain in the presence of my worship and so...I worship.
I don't sit in church as often as I used to. I hold no title. I am unofficial in every sense. Those who attend the same building as I might tell you that I am drifting. That I am a pew warmer. Although without my bottom in the pew, I doubt I could even claim that. Sometimes the enemy tells me that church has died for me. That is a lie. What has happened is that church has enlarged for me. Like a marriage that has stood the test of time, the bride sees her husband's love in the snow he clears, the wrinkles that have appeared in the years he has stood by her, the gentle kiss in passing. I am no longer a newlywed who is in need of reassurance. I know who I am in Christ. Who I am in The Church matters very little.
This church of mine no longer has walls or official times. The worship, learning, fellowship and service are continuous and without schedule. This church meets in India sometimes or Nothern Idaho or Pennsylvania; that's right. Some days this blog is my church. My church does not have choir robes, its members wander in wearing hospital gowns, jeans, pajamas and often a Scarf. My church does not have a song service because it sings constantly although not always out loud and not always in words. My church has no by-laws, only honest self-examination and grace spoken here. My church family is huge and includes Christian men and women who honor me with their wisdom and mentorship, friends who meet me for coffee and admit that they sometimes can't stand The Church. My church family are gays, childhood friends, atheists, old people, little kids, schizophrenics, drug addicts, missionaries, prostitutes, back-sliders, seekers and deniers. When you remove the walls, anybody can walk in to your church.
I love church. The Church and my church. I don't know how long this season will last for me. It is a glorious freedom to find that I am the church after all and also a grave responsibility to see to it that this doesn't become laziness. After all, no one is keeping track of the books in this church.
This is Sunday morning and I am attending church. Right now. I'm wearing a sweat shirt and pajama pants. It is snowing like crazy outside and the temperature is freezing. My kids are healthy and safe and warm and asleep. My husband is at Metrosouth playing bass. And I got out of bed,made a pot of coffee and went to church. I am in Christ, I am in church.
More than ever in my life, I am in church.
Ephesians 1:21-23Far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come: And hath put all things under his feet, and gave him to be the head over all things to the church, Which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all.
Written 12/21/08
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Ecclesiastes 4: 10-12 For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone? And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.




