SEEN

The drive-up window at the pharmacy today was busy, so I went inside. The counter was also busy, but I stood in line. After a few minutes, the gentleman that had been sitting in the adjacent waiting area stood up. It was obvious by his conspicuous stance that he felt the need to make himself known, seen by pharmacy staff. With the busyness and passing of time, customers coming and going, he obviously felt overlooked. As I watched him, the thought occurred to me…

Isn’t that how we often feel with God? Sometimes we feel forgotten. Left waiting. As though we were benched, and the coach forgot to put us back in the game. It often seems, depending on where we are in our faith journeys, that we are patient until others pass us up.

Have you ever punished your child and forgot them in the corner or bedroom? Or were you that child? What a horrible feeling either way at the time. Maybe you can laugh about it now, but at the time it wasn’t so funny.

Well, God doesn’t forget. He is not like this world. He does not lose track of who and when and what His intentions are. While we are waiting, He is working (John 5:17). His Word says that He is not a respecter of persons and shows no partiality (Acts 10:34-35; Galatians 3:28); and if we love Jesus, then we are God’s children (John 1:12; Romans 8:16; 1 John 3:1-10). He promises He will never leave us nor forsake us. Just because He has us waiting, does not mean He will forget us. But sometimes that is just not how it looks. Sometimes we feel passed over. Unseen. And sometimes we sit in our chair of self-pity and watch others through a horribly selfish lens. 

Our dog is a simple example of my point. Caj is 100 pounds of love. Since Leo was the one that literally rescued him from a dying situation, Caj has attached to Leo with little regard to me. Consequently, any time Leo leaves the house, he must leave Caj with his mission: “Wait for me! If anyone tries to hurt Rebecca, you ‘get’em!’ Okay? Wait for me!” And with that, Caj visibly shifts gears from separation anxiety to waiting. On occasion, I have literally called Leo back home because he forgot the magic words and left me with a whining, desperate, depressed dog. Otherwise, Caj is content in his waiting. Waiting with excitement to see his buddy, his savior. Caj totally gets it!

There is a hope and anticipation to be had when you know you are charged with waiting. One of my favorite scriptures is Psalm 130:5-6, “I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in His word I put my hope. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.” I love that scripture so much that I made it a song. It encourages me when I find myself on the journey of waiting. It reminds me to wait for my Lord with expectation and assurance.

The bottom line is we do not have a clue what God is doing in the heavenlies. Sadly, we usually default to what we see with our eyes. Sometimes we are in the line of people coming and going, moving and doing, and that feels great for our egos. But other times waiting is our journey. How comfortable and patient I would be all day in that waiting chair—if I know I am seen. To which His Word quickly reminds me, He is El Roi, “the God Who sees” (Genesis 16:13). We are never unseen or abandoned by God (Deuteronomy 31:6; Matthew 28:20). What hope that promise alone should give us! Waiting requires courage and discipline (Psalm 27:14). It is not a passive feat. Waiting takes tenacity and assurance. Waiting is an active posture. Waiting is a mindset that we are fully known and fully seen.

If you are on a current journey of waiting, disconnect yourself from all the what ifs and maybes. See beyond the busyness around you and focus on what you can learn in the waiting. Forget those passing you up, and remember it is just as important to be waiting. And, as we wait, it is up to us to “be still and know” (Psalm 46:10; Exodus 14:13-14).

(If I could only be like our dog.)

"TOO LONG"

June 14th is a significant day for me, for our family. Each year, we all move through it differently, as well as the days leading up to it and all those that follow. Leo and I were talking recently—it’s not that we hurt more on June 14th. We hurt! It’s not that we miss our daughter Meagan more or grieve her more on June 14th. We grieve! It’s that “June 14th” is engraved on our lives, on our hearts forever—as though a big branding iron took to it! June 14th is the day EVERYTHING changed.

We can’t close our eyes and wish it were different or would go away. We have to see it. We have to live it. We can’t skip the day like some buildings skip the 13th floor! We must go through it. We must go through because that is the way of life. For me, one step at a time. One hour at a time. One breath at a time as my mind recalls what I was doing at that exact moment back then. My senses heightened by sounds and sights and smells. Remembering…as the air around me thickens like velvet.

If you’ve suffered any kind of loss, you know the heart does not follow time. When people ask me how long has it been since Meagan was killed, I painfully say, “Too long.” How inadequate are numbers! “Too long” is exactly how my heart feels. It doesn’t matter if it’s been years, my heart aches!

And hopefully, as with me, if you suffer a “branded” day, you will at some point, in between the crashing waves, feel the presence of a loving Savior Jesus—One Who has experienced indescribable pain and understands deep sorrow. And you will allow yourself to exhale and fall into His arms of grace as He quiets your soul…again.

Psalm 23

“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters,
He refreshes my soul.”

NUMB3RS

3. 14. 29. 20. 24. 12. 13. And they go on. Numbers that pierce my soul. Numbers that represent dates that represent carvings on my heart. Numbers that humble me; make me grateful; take my breath away; make me feel like my heart is in a vice. Numbers that keep me before God’s throne and desperate for His fellowship.

Today, I am overwhelmed. Today is full of piercing numbers, and my heart feels it. We all have numbers that weave in and out of our weeks. And I’m determined to find a place in this day to bring God glory. I’ve learned that sometimes that’s all He asks—to be in a posture of wanting to bring Him glory.

Today, with all the numbers carouselling in my heart, this post is my posture to bring Him glory. I love the Lord. I LOVE MY LORD! He “keeps” me even though I’ve given Him countless reasons to let go. He keeps me! And He keeps me so I can help others, knowing I will fail Him over and over and over. He uses me (and you) knowing we will fail Him. That’s my Sovereign Lord! When my heart can’t keep up. When my soul can’t find the words to sing. He pulls me out of the dark, or my own world I’ve nestled in, and uses me. Isn’t He just out-of-the-box awesome! THAT’S MY LORD!  

THEN SINGS MY SOUL, MY SAVIOR GOD TO THEE
HOW GREAT THOU ART, HOW GREAT THOU ART

WHAT IF WE LEFT BECAUSE OF THE BAD WEATHER

The early morning hours are my favorite time of day at my parents’ home in south Louisiana. Sipping coffee, quiet conversation, journaling, and reading a daily devotional with Mom. I love sitting with her and hearing her take-aways of the author’s work. She often dives deep for the gems of revelation leaving me enough time only to scribble her thoughts down on paper. (Thank goodness for shorthand.)

One morning after reading the devotional, only weeks after my dad’s passing, my mother’s insight took a profound, passionate turn from the author. I was encouraged because our family was experiencing great grief, and she had been very quiet. From her heart she spoke, “At Jesus’ crucifixion many walked away because the weather became bad, the skies drew black, and so their experience ended with the cross. To them it was over. As they ran for shelter, Jesus was left hanging on the cross like a common criminal. And, to them, it was done.”

“But for Mary and Jesus’ brother, and those who stayed behind through the earthquake, ‘the story’ was just beginning. Mary wept because the son she raised and nurtured had now experienced the hands of injustice and the horrors of mankind; YET she knew not to trust what her eyes saw. Though she grieved her loss, she knew there was more. Though the day became as night, and the earth shook, those who stayed got to see ‘the more,’ the glory, the fullness of forgiveness!” 

From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land…the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth quaked; the rocks split. (Mathew 27)

I was speechless at Mom’s revelation. Lost in her eyes, I could see she was deep in thought, and there was more. She continued, “If I came across a man that ‘settled’ by rushing away for shelter, I would need more than my smile. My job is to be an ambassador of Christ and to share authentic love of forgiveness. I need to paint the pain of the cross but also the brilliant brushstrokes of Jesus’ resurrection. If we understand this truth, then we will live here with the ideal of heaven and the glory of God.”

We talked a while about her thoughts and a few of my own. And with what seemed like agonizing awareness, Mom added, “We forget that every gouge Jesus bore is my sin! MY sin! Each whip is MY sin! We need to revisit the cross! ‘God, You are letting this happen to You! I know You said it is Your Son, but it is You on the cross! Jesus—but also You! Tortured beyond comprehension; flesh ripped from your body; nailed to a cross making it impossible for You to breathe; hung to die for me! Are You so full of wrath that You lowered Yourself to a piece of meat?’ No! God needed to satisfy our nonsense and show us there is only one answer, and it’s the Risen Christ. If we take away the Risen Christ, what do we have? We have not really believed! The purpose was to bring us back to Him—and the Risen Christ does that."

 “We are not left with ‘a story’ of the cross. If we are believers, we can experience the cross, and more so, the Risen Christ and the fullness of forgiveness. There are those who still say, ‘The cross is enough.’ But NO! We need the reunion in its fullness. This Wonder of Wonders giving us a chance at new life. Jesus—heaven on Earth! Christ’s death—but the fullness of His Resurrection. And the glory of God—the finished picture!”

Did you leave short of the resurrection? Did you leave because of the bad weather? Does your faith end with the cross? Or have you allowed yourself to experience the fullness of forgiveness, the fullness of Christ’s resurrection, and the glory of God?

PRIVILEDGED PURPOSE

For over a decade, I have begged God for PURPOSE—purpose in ALL CAPS. You know, the kind of PURPOSE that challenges the core of who you are. (Been there!) PURPOSE that calls you back to the deep because that is where you are now most comfortable. After living through a horrific car crash, this is the kind of PURPOSE I need. It’s difficult to just exist, and I get restless and depressed when I do. When God uses me for His PURPOSE, it is bewildering what one can stand when He makes you able. 2 Timothy 2:20-21 says it this way, “In a large house there are articles not only of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay; some are for special purposes and some for common use. Those who cleanse themselves from the latter will be instruments for special purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work.” I do not understand the fullness of this passage, but I do want to be the epitome of it. I want to be used for special purposes and bring Him glory, but not just glory...GLORY. A simple word picture:  we Cajuns aren’t satisfied with a little pot of gumbo; we make a BIG pot of gumbo that could feed multiple families! ALL CAPS GLORY!

I love lowercase purpose and daily assignments. I acknowledge the importance of lowercase purpose of getting out of bed every day (a real task for me) and being salt to my world and a light in the darkness—even if it is my own. Lowercase purpose is essential as a Christ-follower and should be pursued daily. Ephesians 2:10 says it clearly, “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” PURPOSE and purpose go hand-in-hand. Both are obedience to God which pleases Him. 

July 29th marks one year since I’ve seen my dad or kissed his face. We miss him terribly. We never expected when he was diagnosed with cancer, right at the outbreak of the Covid pandemic, that he would die from it. We were never, and how could we be, prepared for the horrors of his suffering. His battle with cancer has impacted us forever. We will never be the same. While others were cursing the Covid lockdown, I was embracing it because it (and Leo) allowed me to be with my dad and mom and sisters in south Louisiana. From a curse came a blessing!

I cannot speak of the horrors my dad went through—that we went through as a family—but I was aware then that God called me to the deep. A deep I never experienced or felt qualified for. This was PURPOSE and I would do anything to serve my dad and mom. I would and did! PURPOSE that called me to LOVE in the truest sense of the word; to love and serve in ways I did not know I was capable.

This PURPOSE came at a great price! I am still trying to figure how to do life without my dad. He was my go-to for my Meagan-trauma pitfalls. I put so much on my dad since the crash, but he never buckled. He got choked up often, but he was faithful regardless of what I hit him with or how deep I took him. He talked me from the ledge many times and gave me spiritual spankings often. He was my dad.

This PURPOSE of serving my dad was painful privilege. I understand a little of how Mother Teresa walked out her calling with such humility. Seeing someone “through” to the other side is a holy experience. It is priceless. It is love. And I am eternally privileged and humbled to have had my dad’s last hours. Those days, those hours play over and over in my mind. With Meagan in the crash, I begged God repeatedly to make her breathe. But He did not. In the last two days with my dad, I begged God, implored God, to take his breath and end his agony. In the early morning hours with the rise of the sun, God did! A holy moment of thankfulness and then losing myself in deep sorrow and numbness with my sisters and mother. 

I never understood cancer though my grandmother and some dear friends battled it to their end. God heals some and takes others. Who understands this mystery? But it is not for us to know—He is sovereign and in control. Yet cancer is a beast. Cruel and unforgiving. It doesn’t play fair and has absolutely no compassion. To my friends and family who have traveled this dreadful road before me, please forgive me. I did not know.

With this one-year mark of my dad’s “going home,” I would like to remember him with a video from Meagan’s phone I’ve never shared with anyone but Leo, Aaron, and Melody. Backstory:  a couple of months before the fatal crash, Meagan was stirred to make a spontaneous trip to Louisiana where she spent a week alone with her Grammar and Gramps. This is her recording and her voice featuring my hilarious and wonderful parents. (Mom, I hope you laugh.)

https://youtu.be/SldCJ5-L6VE

THE POWER OF PRESENCE

Presence—it often has the power to consume space; change the atmosphere of a room; even anchor a wandering soul.

Although I have spent most of my married years to Leo in Tennessee, I still call south Louisiana “home”—born and raised Cajun. I have been here a while now with my sisters helping to support our mom and care for our dad who was diagnosed with cancer. Each day is different. There are no rules. Cancer is a bully and does not play fair. But nothing—NOTHING—compares to the greatness of our Sovereign God. And, He has given us some of the sweetest moments with our mom and dad during this journey. 

Recently, my dad woke up around 4am, so I sat with him. We kept our conversation soft so as not to wake my mom. As part of his cancer treatment, my dad is on heavy meds. Unfortunately, the payoff for his relief often results in confusion, agitation, and temporary memory gaps. This particular morning, he was convinced he was in a hospital (and rightly so because their bedroom looks like a medical room), and he wanted to go “home”. In his confusion, his mind was struggling to grasp any normalcy and make sense of all of the “whys”.

As I sat on the corner of his bed, he asked me, “If I didn’t tell you that you were my daughter, how would you know you were?” Phew. My eyes watered and with tender confidence, I replied, “Well, you don’t need to tell me anything. For 58 years now, I have been calling you “Dad”. You and Mom raised me with my sisters since I was born into this family. You’ve worked hard to provide for us, look out for us, and you have always been there for us. For 58 years, you have loved me. So, I don’t need words, Dad—I AM your daughter.” There was silence and then I said, “So, who am I to you?” And he spoke the golden words, “You’re my baby girl.” Ahhhhhhh my heart. Tears. I don’t want to stop hearing those words—EVER.

As I sat there with him in that early hour, my mind went back to our family tragedy and how confused I personally was when our middle child Meagan was killed. After I was released from the hospital, our whole family went through a four-hour visitation with hundreds and hundreds of loved ones. Once the doors were closed, I collapsed onto my knees in front of our daughter’s casket. I was absolutely, utterly lost. I WAS the ship without a sail people often refer to. My heart was devastated, and I was giving up. Then my eyes were captivated by our two other children who had laid on the carpeted floor horizontal to their sister in front of me. Our youngest first in just broken silence. And then our oldest, maybe assuming his usual role as the big brother to both his younger sisters. I cannot presume to know their pain, nor did I hear the few words they shared. I only saw the indescribable POWER OF THEIR PRESENCE and the love between siblings. As I continued to sit there on my knees, I became aware of the man who knelt on one knee behind me with his hand on my right shoulder. Somehow, his presence anchored me from literally falling into the dark abyss. Time seemed to align itself with the heaviness in my heart. I eventually leaned my cheek on his hand in acknowledgement before realizing this was not my Leo. I looked up to find it was my dad kneeling behind me, having my back as always, and protecting his broken little girl. I have often recalled that day and the POWER OF HIS PRESENCE and how it spoke SO much louder than words. The POWER OF PRESENCE.

And now as I stay in my parents’ home with my mom and sisters, I often sit with my dad just to be near whether he’s awake or asleep. Already knowing the answer, I asked him one afternoon before he fell asleep if it was okay that I sat in his room and journaled. He said, “Yes please. That sounds good. You journal. I’ll sleep.” What a sweet couple of hours that was because I could tell he didn’t want to be alone. I love sitting in their room. It is so peaceful. And my sisters and I agree there is a comfort Dad’s breathing brings us when he is in a deep sleep. He has always been, in his words, “King of the Castle,” and the rock in our family. This has not changed even though now he is in physical warfare. And something else that has not changed is the POWER OF PRESENCE—for us, his daughters, and for our mom as we serve as anchors for him in this storm. 

God has His hand upon our family. He promises to uphold us and carry us through the trials of life; to never leave us or forsake us. The POWER OF HIS PRESENCE is too much for words. It is indescribable. It is inexhaustible. It is faithful. And in the POWER OF PRESENCE—sometimes words are just not necessary.

RIGHT PLACE, RIGHT TIME, RIGHT PERSON, RIGHT WORD

Recently, as is routine, we asked the couples in our community/home group for their prayer requests. After a few tearful requests, one of the husbands simply said, “Please pray that daily I am in the right place at the right time for the right person with the right words.” I remember writing down his request and thinking, “Wow, of all the requests he could have made. It’s so simple but profound.” As the night came to a close, I could NOT stop thinking about this brother’s request. 

Two days later, while doing some random house things, I spontaneously threw on my jacket and drove off in the rain to get the renewal sticker for my car tags. It was such an awkward last-minute thought. Such an abrupt move. And, NOT on my to-do list for that day. 

I drove up to our local recreation center to use the kiosk provided by the State. In my spontaneity, I forgot the registration renewal papers but was able to use last year’s in my glove compartment. Walking briskly through the rain, an older woman held the door for me. I was caught off guard as she awkwardly got in my space trying to read my t-shirt. As we walked, I held open my jacket so she could articulate EACH and EVERY word, while I made sure she didn’t trip over her own feet: “Her shining light will not be extinguished no matter how dark the night.” (Proverbs 31:18)

Her response, “Hmm…”

I replied, “Our youngest gave it to me in honor of her sister.” 

Again, “Hmm…”

So, I added, “Her sister, our oldest daughter, is in heaven.” 

“Ohhh, I see. And how did she die?”

It took the power of God to keep me from falling through the door. I was not ready for this! I was on a random jaunt to get my sticker from that kiosk just 10 yards away…right there…that kiosk…right over there!

And then, like only God can orchestrate, she interrupted my life to share her heart not yet knowing “our story”. I listened as her shaky voice began, “I have two sons, both are Christians. The older one is strong and kind and such a wonderful person. The younger one always struggled and is an alcoholic.” (My heart began to pound as she tiptoed into our tragedy.) She continued, “For years I prayed to God for either of two things: that He would deliver my son from this terrible addiction and spare his life, OR, when he inevitably crashes his car that he would not kill anyone.” With tears falling down her face, she added, “God heard my prayers. My son crashed his car a couple of years ago and died alone.”

[When you think you are so empty and void of anything good, God often times will place you on a precipice just to show you what HE has deposited in your heart, and to remind you that HE is with you, and HE will get HIS glory. This was that!]

Before I knew it, I had my arm around her and was consoling her. In one sentence, I stuttered “our tragedy”:  Meagan and I were on a road trip together and were hit head-on by an unconscious drunk driver that resulted in her instant death. And then, I began speaking life to this lady’s grieving soul. I convinced her that her son did NOT die alone. That God heard her unselfish prayers and did answer her. That being a Christian struggling with life, her son’s final act did not determine who he was. I admitted that I had no clue how these things work nor would I ever presume to know the mind of Christ, but I am quite certain that though her son may have been an alcoholic, he was first A Child of God. I proposed the thought that since God knows everything before we act or speak a word, AND ordains the number of our days (Psalm 139), could it be that He saved her son spiritually years prior because He foreknew this crash was inevitable? Could it be that Our Creator cared enough about His creation to let her son’s life of torment end abruptly while sparing innocent lives? Could it be that since our Merciful God redeemed her son that he is now in heaven with his Creator?

She hugged me with both arms and we cried. Yep, right there inside the doors of the Rec Center just 10 yards away from that kiosk! We cried from pain but more so for the grace of God who called my Meagan and her son by name. I looked into her eyes and said while pointing upwards, “They just beat us there.”

Ignoring the onlookers, we said our goodbyes and parted ways. As I was catching my breath and proceeding with the kiosk transaction, my home group friend’s words pierced my heart:  May I be in the right place at the right time for the right person with the right words. OMGosh! God did it again! I ran in the rain to my vehicle before I cried a bucket load of tears. Not only did God jerk me again outside of “the world of ME,” but He also used me way outside of my comfort zone to minister to a hurting mom about her alcoholic son. 

I saw a vision of my Meagan in heaven—a victim of alcohol abuse! And, in heaven, that lady’s son—a victim of the disease of alcohol! Then, I pictured OUR SAVIOR JESUS—laughing with and loving them both. ONLY GOD.

All ye sinners come home! 

I AIN’T AFRAID OF NO COWS!

Prompted recently by a question of whether I am a leader and can take a problem by the horns and find a solution, I began to laugh. I usually think of myself as a soft-spoken, polite but passionate, introvert, southern girl, UNTIL you put me on the softball field or volleyball court or…in an emergency situation. I was reminded of years ago when our son was 15. We were driving home on a four-lane road when we came over a hill and in our lane were two cows who apparently escaped the adjacent fenced acres. I’ve never seen cows within those thousands of wooded acres but could always hear them from a distance. On this particular day, I almost crashed into one! And, more cows were watching ready to cross the broken fence.

Well, in my quick thinking and fearless experience with cows (NOT!), I put my SUV in park, jumped out yelling to Aaron to drive it to the median and put the flashers on. I called 911 as I began slowly walking to the lead cow. I laugh as I write this because, well y’all, I have done this twice now where I snapped into cowgirl-mode to save the day! Anyway, picture me on the phone with 911 and at the SAME time talking to the cows in a deep voice like my cattle-rancher grandpa, “Git on! Git on! Back up! Git on…” The police said they knew their owner and would contact him immediately. Waiting for the farmer while cars veered not to hit us, I kept talking to these two cows with my arms stretched out trying to keep them from going further onto the road. Now, I’m not stupid. Not really. I knew that stubborn lead cow had ATTITUDE all up in her eyes and could totally walk over me. But I ain’t afraid of no cows! So, in my deep, controlling voice, I began saying to her, “You better not even think about it. Don’t. Even. Think. About. It. Git on, now. Git on.” (I make myself laugh!)

A man in a pickup came over the hill and saw me, parked, and jumped out to help. He asked, “You called this in?” I replied, “Yep!” WAIT! WHAT?!!! All of a sudden, I sound like Barney Fife! He proceeded to grab a rope from his truck bed and said, “I’m gonna lasso this one.” I told him, “That’s not a good idea, Sir. That girl is full of attitude!” So, he began to gently swat her with the rope and help guide her back toward the fence. 

Within minutes, men in two other pickups arrived from the farm and took over herding their cattle back toward the broken fence. I said my goodbye and got back in my SUV with my son and headed home.

As my cowgirl attitude fizzled away, I looked over at Aaron who was staring at me, and we busted up laughing. I’m sure he could not wait to tell Leo what I had done and how goofy I sounded. But, for me, I was actually proud of myself and also astonished that I just jumped out there and took care of things. All I kept thinking was, these are COWS and someone is going to get killed coming over that hill. So, I did SOMETHING until help arrived and it felt great!

The second time I snapped into cowgirl-mode was a few years ago on my way to work and cows were coming out of a break in a fence and heading casually across the narrow winding road. This time, I didn’t dare get out of my Pathfinder, but rather used it to herd the cattle back across the road. Apparently, I’m not a good herder because the cows chose a different path and went into the property of a landscaping business, but I didn’t care. As I called 911 and waited for assistance, I positioned my SUV at the entrance to block them in. Imagine how funny it was to see men running out of the warehouse watching the cows trot by and then looking at me as though I caused this mess. Imagine also the call to my boss telling him why I was going to be a little late!

So, what’s the moral of the story? There is none. But, am I a leader? Yes, in the right situations and definitely when needed. Can I take a problem by the horns and find a solution? You darn right, I can! Now…how to put that on my job application…

DON’T UNDERESTIMATE YOURSELF! The world does enough of that for you.

LABELLED

Divorced and a single mom. Her ex left rather abruptly with little explanation. Recently, my friend met a very kind Christian man and went on a few dates before being confronted by his family that she was simply not what they hoped for—they could not see passed “previously married, divorced, a single mom”. Regardless of her admirable character, spiritual conviction, family loyalty, work ethic, and selfless acts of kindness, she was “labelled” by his family as unworthy.

I would guess the vast majority of us have had words spoken to us that pierced our souls and planted themselves in our hearts. Both positive and/or condescending words. BUT how sad that we tend to focus on the negative words over the positive. (I am not referring to constructive criticism.) It is often like someone slapped a label on our backs and we walk through life never realizing we accepted the “label” OR we may go through life fighting an inner battle to rise above it. The point is, how much power do we give these labels and/or the people who speak them? The answer to this is our choice. I was about 30 years old when I had this revelation. It is MY choice as to how much power I give people in my life. Those in my inner circle have the freedom to speak truths into my life. I weigh what they have to say, pray, and move accordingly. With those beyond my inner circle, especially since the tragedy, I am more careful to protect my heart.

It was early morning as I sat with my cup of coffee and my Bible fell open to Daniel chapter 1. As long as I have been a Christian, I never discerned what was made known to me this morning. Most of us know the story of Shadrach, Meshack, Abednego, and the fiery furnace. But, did you know they were “labelled”—disrespectfully and dishonorably labelled?

“King Nebuchadnezzar, the supreme leader of Babylonia, was feared throughout the world. When he invaded a country, defeat was certain. After a victory, the Babylonians would capture and take the most talented and useful people back to Babylon.” 1

King Nebuchadnezzar went to Jerusalem and besieged it. He took some of the articles from the temple of God and carried them off to the temple of his god in Babylonia and put in the treasure house of his god. The king ordered his chief of his court officials to bring in some of the Israelites from the royal family and the nobility—young men without any physical defect handsome, showing aptitude for every kind of learning, well informed, quick to understand, and qualified to serve in the king’s palace. They would be taught the language and literature of the Babylonians. The king assigned them a daily amount of food and wine from the king’s table. They were to be trained for three years, and after that they were to enter the king’s service. Among these were some men from Judah: Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah. (Daniel 1:1-6)  

“The academic training program would have included mathematics, astronomy, history, science, and magic. These young men demonstrated not only aptitude, but also discipline. This character trait, combined with integrity, served them well in their new culture…Nebuchadnezzar changed the names of Daniel and his friends because he wanted to make them Babylonian…New names would help them assimilate into the culture. Daniel means “God is my Judge” in Hebrew; his name was [disgracefully] changed to Belteshazzar meaning “Bel, protect his life!” (Bel, also called Marduk, was the chief Babylonian god). Hananiah means “the Lord shows grace”; his new name, Shadrach, probably means “under the command of Aku” (the moon god). Mishael means “who is like God?”; his new name, Meshach, probably means “who is like Aku?” Azariah means, “the Lord helps”; his new name, Abednego, means “servant of Nego/Nebo” (or Nabu, the god of learning and writing). This was how the king attempted to change the religious loyalty of these young men from Judah’s God to Babylonia’s gods.” 1 

Despite all of this, none of the four young men bowed to the demands of the king. Three were eventually thrown into a fiery furnace seven times hotter than normal, but walked out unscathed, not a hair burned, without a hint of smoke. They were saved by the hand of the Almighty God for their faithfulness and steadfastness. They were labelled by the king with ill intent, yet the four did not yield to his agenda. The Word says, “Daniel resolved to obey God.” They did not succumb to the names put on them. Rather, they were favored, and God promoted them in status in the Babylonian kingdom. God got His glory! (You should read the book of Daniel; it is fascinating and inspiring!)

Back to my friend…after seeking counsel so that I could encourage her rightfully, I told her she was being unfairly labelled. And if his family wanted to focus on labels, let’s focus on the actual labels she is—she is a Child of God, a Christ-like example to her daughter, a person of integrity and conviction at her job and in her personal life, a lover of people who others consider unlovable, REDEEMED. Then we prayed God would numb the voices so that she could walk steadfast in her calling and that she would not yield to the labels wrongfully cast. After all, if we are more focused on what others say or think about us, then 1) our eyes are not on God and His purpose for us, and 2) we are living distracted lives where little good can cultivate.

Labels can be positive, but many are harmful and destructive, and imprison us into believing untruths. What labels do we own because someone spoke them over us and now are a part of who we are? What “name change” did we receive by someone of power in our lives—a name that dishonors the very God we serve? What label covers who we really are—a Child of God, Redeemed by Grace? 

I was dumfounded to read Daniel chapter 1 and receive this revelation. Four men who did not cower to the names put on them—even to the point of death. They had to answer by those names, yes, but they KNEW WHOSE THEY REALLY WERE! Labels or words spoken to us or about us, though possibly painful, should bounce off if they do not line up with God’s Word. We should learn to walk in the example of these four men. Walk in the world, in your circumstance, but never let the words take root. Just because the king changed their names did NOT give him access to their hearts!  

For me personally one of my favorite examples, that could have gone either way, was while serving Mr. Sam Moore, former CEO/Chairman of Thomas Nelson Publishers, as his Executive Assistant. I knew Mr. Moore prior to being promoted as his EA, so we connected from day one. And from day one, he decided to nickname me “Jezebel.” I remember saying, “Seriously? Jezebel? She was eaten by dogs!” And with that Moore grin, he said sharply, “Yep.” For the duration of time I served him, Jezebel was it; however, he never called me Jezebel in front of clients or strangers, only as jest in the office. It became quite funny to hear him call me, or better yet, call me over the speaker on my phone, “Jezebel!” I would enter his office smiling. The difference here is that I knew he liked me and respected me. I knew God placed me in that position to serve him—a very Godly, humble man with much God-given authority. I also knew my character was far from this Jezebel’s, so I never took offense. It was quite humorous actually. BUT…had our relationship been different, I can see where this would have been a source of humiliation and contention. I cannot explain why his choice of “Jezebel”, but I do know it was never malicious as with Nebuchadnezzar. My circumstance was different. This was the most rewarding yet most challenging job I ever had. And, I so miss working for the now departed Mr. Sam Moore.

A full pendulum swing, I have experienced extraordinary labels of encouragement. Our oldest daughter nicknamed me “Misma” when she was about 16—one of the highest compliments I have ever received. (Read the story in my blog, WORD.) Since the tragedy, our youngest daughter followed a spiritual prompting and nicknamed me “Courage” and her father “Capable.” Tears to my eyes even now. And I melt when our grand-kiddos call me “GG” because though they may not know what it stands for, I do! More importantly, to know that my own children chose “GG” is priceless to me. These labels I will hold in my heart forever! 

So, it is time to ponder. Pray. Ask God to reveal any labels that have taken root in our souls that dishonor Him. Then be diligent to go through whatever strategy He gives us to remove them.

The catch, however, is that many of us are comfortable with the labels placed on us. We’ve adapted and learned to live in them—accepting them as our character. We’ve become complacent, and to be quite honest, it is just easier to let things be. BUT, we need to ask ourselves, “What would God have us do?” God is in the stretching business. He never leaves us stagnant, but rather, He is always pushing and prodding us to be better and more Christ-like. So, I guess it comes down to whether we want to live under the words of man, OR pursue the challenge and rip those labels off like old nasty band-aids—pain and all!

Remember, we are saved by His inexhaustible grace, and no label—NO LABEL—is greater than our God. We are nothing less than what He says we are. Anything else MUST GO—for our good, and His great glory! Amen? (Lord, may I hear my own words, and may they impact my wounded heart.)

Tag. You’re it!

1-Footnotes from Daniel, Life Application Bible, NIV, Zondervan

WHY TREMBLE

Our pastor’s sermon series, “Anxious for Nothing,” challenged me in some positive ways but also reminded me of some painful life lessons. Fear has as much power as we give it in most cases; however, fear can also come on the heels of tragedies, and it takes the mighty hand of God to remove the prison that fear can wrap us in. In fact, my prayers include Psalm 25, “My eyes are ever on the Lord, for only He will release my feet from the snare.” And Psalm 142, “Set me free from my prison, that I may praise Your name.” From our deadly crash, fear has led me to isolate myself in protective mode, make some poor choices, stand down when I should have stepped up, and among other things, fear has led me to pray some awful prayers. No doubt, Christ is not shocked by my lack of faith nor is He shocked by my fear-based prayers. I believe many times He lets us pay the consequences for our choices, but more often, He covers us in mercy and leads us through. I’m choosing to share this secret story to remind you that God is Sovereign and moves according to His plans. He is not swayed by our emotions—most certainly not by our fears!

________________________________________________________

Three months after Leo and I were married we found out we were going to have a baby. I had never really been around babies or pregnant mamas, so I only had my sister’s experience to go by (a 45-minute delivery!) and the wonderful testimonials of the women in my birthing classes. But, I had a rude awakening on the horizon like a lamb headed for slaughter.

When I went into labor in the middle of the night at age 20, my pain level soared to a 10. No one prepared me for the agony of “back labor.” I equate it to an alien inside twisting my spinal cord with every intention of ripping it out of my body. Nope! Didn’t know about back labor! And, friends had encouraged me to go “natural.” Being tough and wanting the accolades of those friends, I went through 20 hours of hard labor, back labor, without an epidural until my doctor made the decision for me. He knew I couldn’t go anymore! I had no energy left. Yet, I was stuck on this labor-train plowing forward that did not come with brakes or a pause button. I am pretty darn tough, but during this time, I would have seriously preferred to wrestle a lion! Thank God for epidurals!

A miracle! “It’s a boy!” Leo and I wept. Our sweet baby was beautiful and so calm. We made it! I LIVED THROUGH IT! God had mercy and gave us a perfect baby boy. It was over! THANK YOU, JESUS!

A year of bliss later, something was different. I couldn’t be! I could not be pregnant! But, I knew! I did not need a pregnancy test to confirm anything. Just as before, I knew, and a monster of fear invaded my world. A monster so real all I could do was run! While baby Aaron slept (and Leo on the road), I ran to an abandoned, overgrown field and fell to my knees crying. Fear pummeled through my soul as all the pain I experienced of childbirth replayed over and again. Trembling and terrified, I cried and pleaded with God relentlessly, “Please, please, please, please, God, do not let me be pregnant! Please God. Please God. Please….”

God did not ignore my prayers that day. Rather, He met me in the tall grass of despair, and simply spoke to my blinded heart, “Oh, the ramblings of a foolish young girl. Fear cannot keep you from Me.” Time passed as He calmed the storms within and my tears slowly dried. My heart had changed, and my pregnancy and delivery were nothing as previously experienced. In fact, a reckless driver crashed into my car at five months pregnant; I was injured, but found myself pleading for God to protect our baby through the remaining months. Our little Meagan Elaine was born in due time, and our lives were forever changed. Meagan—our precious baby girl that God designed, foreknew, and created for a grand purpose. His divine purpose overruled any foolish prayer I could pray. Psalm 139:13-16 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, Your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be. Amen!

A simple word but such an effective weapon of the enemy—fear. It’s the absence of faith. Sin. The opposite of trust in our Savior. It carries a heavy punch, but fear does not make God tremble. In fact, fear quakes in the very presence of The Almighty! It has no power, no substance, no control—except what we choose to give it. What foolish words does fear lead you to speak? What does fear keep you from or lead you to? What abandoned fields does anxiety take you to and break you to your knees?

As I write this, I am dumbfounded by a revelation. I literally had to go for a walk because my heart began pounding and my chest tightening. You see, God revealed to me the undercurrents of what I was writing: the ONLY other time since Meagan’s birth where I was alone desperately crying out in an abandoned field was the crash that took her life! Two very different situations. This time, I was crying out for her life! I was not rambling foolish prayers. I was calling on my Savior—the presence of God Almighty. He met me in the fields of despair and anguish, shock and darkness, chaos and confusion. And, He held me.

In our darkest hour, when fear and anxiety have a grip on us, we need to remember God is bigger than anything we face or feel. We all fear, BUT, if we are quick to turn from the whispers of the enemy, there is ONE greater Who will see us through. There is ONE mightier Who will meet us in the field of fear, hold us tight, and give us His strength to face the darkness! Even when our eyes cannot see Him. Especially when we cannot feel Him. He is with us! And, we stand because He stands beside us. If you love Him, He is faithful! He has called us by name, and we are His.

Deliverance may be a long process for many like me because tragedies often seed triggers that cause fear. BUT, I believe the Bible, “We have a hope the world does not know” and His name is Jesus! Sometimes, the battle for our faith is an exhausting one, but we serve a BIG GOD—bigger than any prison or trigger. And, we choose whether to live by faith or by fear. We choose to pray the prayers of a faith-filled heart or the rantings of a fear-filled one. I am FOREVER thankful the Lord did not move on my foolish prayers, but rather fulfilled the purpose He had for our daughter! I asked for forgiveness back then many times and I found His mercy is endless. Why do we often tremble in the face of fear when Our God calls us His own and promises to never leave us? Our God Who designed the heavens and placed the stars into existence, and gently breathed life into our lungs. Our God Who holds all things in His hands, and bends an ear to the cares of our hearts. What a loving Father! What a personal Lord!

Isaiah 41:10 So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be anxious, for I am Your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.

Isaiah 43:1 Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine.

Psalm 27:1 The LORD is my light and my salvation--whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life--of whom shall I be afraid?

A WEED'S WORTH

My whole life, “Who determines a weed?” was a constant rhetorical question my mother would ask as she saw fields of wildflowers or uninvited foliage in flower beds. My parents’ love for the outdoors and a beautiful lawn/landscape was passed on to me. However, it did not happen overnight. Growing up, my parents’ idea of a family Saturday usually meant working outside (after inside chores) in the blistering Louisiana heat. We would take a break or have a picnic lunch in the shade of one of our oak trees, and then back to “Oh, the joys of the outdoors” work. (Insert rolling of eyes here.)

My sisters and I were raised by two parents who are still constantly entranced into their flower beds without a second thought to snap a dead branch or rearrange an area. They intentionally mow at high noon every few days. They talk or sing to their plants (Mom) as they refresh them with cool well water even though there is a sprinkler system. They choose to be outside in God’s creation especially during a Louisiana rain. Somewhere through the years, it’s inevitable—you either grow to hate the outdoors and heat or fall in love with it. And I absolutely fell in love. 

Though I have had the blessing of some beautiful yards, the present one continues to grieve me. Over the five years that we have been back in Tennessee, we have invested so much money and time into this lawn, professional and personal—all in vain. Focusing on the corner flowerbed where the mailbox is, hundreds of dollars have been spent trying to get a variety of things to grow. Only the faithful Knockout Rosebush prevailed! That corner gets no sympathy from the harsh sun all day and no amount of care or song helps!

This past fall, our Knockout Rosebush began to show signs of distress. Regardless of my added attention, this spring, its branches snapped like toothpicks. Dead. And, it became a source of angst for me. Once full of life and colorful blooms—now dead. And it grieved me.

Recovering from shoulder surgery but very determined, I persuaded our granddaughter Olive to break the dead bush down until Leo could dig up the stump. It crumbled so sadly. And now sat a stump I had to look at until it would be removed. (I think Leo made me wait to teach me patience. I am my parents’ daughter—stubborn and self-reliant.)

Weeks went by with this stump dampening my view. Little seedlings kept popping up and I kept snipping them down. They were NOT from my rosebush, so weeds they must be. They kept growing. I kept snipping. They kept growing. I cut them down. Then I recalled my mother’s voice, “Who determines a weed? Some of the most beautiful blooms are what most would consider weeds.” And with that, I decided to let the darn saplings grow. I would walk by regularly and ask, “So what are you? I guess we will see.”

I watched as she grew up fast. Inches. 3 feet. 4 feet! One morning home from a trip…she was a burst of BLOOMS! In this drought! In this heatwave! BEAUTIFUL. PINK. BLOOMS. It turns out that we have a Rose of Sharon!!! I shouted, “Well, look at you!!” and gathered others to show them she wasn’t a weed at all. Who knew the whole time I kept snipping her down, she was growing a root system that can now endure this heat and drought!

As I stood gazing at her array of flowers—dark pink, light pink, and white—I felt the Lord tug at my heart. Not to over-spiritualize this weed/stump story, but there is a painful yet inspiring message in it (for me and for many of my dear friends who are experiencing trials by fire). Our flourishing Rose of Sharon is a reminder that when LIFE trips me up and cuts me down, there is ONE greater still Who is building my foundation and root system deeper and wider than even I can see. When I am most vulnerable, and the enemy comes in to steal, rob, and destroy, my roots grow stronger because I have a Redeemer Who watches over me day and night and never slumbers. When sorrow stings my heart back to the core, my roots go deeper because HE is the lifter of my head! My roots grow deeper because from HIM flow rivers of living waters. Until one glorious day my Creator will decide, “Enough! BLOOM Baby, BLOOM!” And HE will uncover an array of beauty born of pain and fight, of grief and tenacity—like the little saplings! Regardless of what LIFE throws at me, though I may fall, HE will make me stand because HE is able, and I will never stop praising! 

Some of us may appear to look like weeds or feel like weeds, but soon there will be a morning when we will burst in color and splendor for HIS glory! And HE will smile at us and say, “Well, look at you, My Rose of Sharon!”

__________ 

[The Rose of Sharon is not truly a "rose." It is a member of the Hibiscus family, according to the U.S. Forest Service. The hibiscus flower traditionally represents "delicate beauty." In the Bible, the Rose of Sharon symbolizes beauty, and it is used in the book of Song of Solomon to describe the beauty of King Solomon's lover. It has a Biblical significance in that Jesus Christ is called the Rose of Sharon in Christian works because of the similarities between the plant and Christ. The Rose of Sharon is a flowering bush or shrub known for its large blooms. It can be pruned into the shape of a tree. The most popular colors of Rose of Sharon are shades of pink, white and blue. This shrub can grow up to 12 feet tall and 10 feet wide! (Ref. Hunker.com)]

NOT A WEED!

WATCH FOR HIS FINGERPRINTS

I woke up today as every day with Reality in my face and my urge to barrage the Lord with all of my “whys.” And, just like most every day, He gently quiets my soul and reminds me He is sovereign, He is faithful, and He has me. This morning, I am reminded of His ever-present fingerprints…sometimes hidden within my pain; sometimes as bright as the morning sun, like this one:

Meagan was convinced she had to have a particular costly designer watch that she had her eyes on for weeks. Many of her co-workers seemed to be in on it and I soon found myself outnumbered as she caressed the watch in my presence. Knowing she could sway her dad, we got him on the phone, and, of course, he said buy it if she wants it. So that Christmas, Meagan had one gift under our tree—the elegant, small-faced, bronze watch she said was made just for her.  It was beautiful as she was, and just as unique.

It was now spring when Meagan called and said she needed to talk with me and her dad. She told us that she had been laboring over something for two months. Something she was certain God put on her heart. A clear directive as if whispered into her ears while she literally felt a pat on her leg. He whispered the words, “It’s time.”

For two months, Meagan pressed God for more specifics. Yet, He gave her only this, she was to move from Nashville where she had lived her whole life to the Chicago-burbs where we were living at the time. She was certain that she heard His voice, and that this was a call to obedience, and felt confident that God would reveal “the why” once she made the move. She writes about this spiritual quest in her journal.  

So, she moved to the Chicago-burbs. Nine months after her move, Meagan and I prepared for the road trip that forever altered the dynamics of our family. This was a quick trip back to Nashville to see her newly married younger sister, and brother. Before leaving, she got in my face to clarify, “So no surprises, right? This is a jeans and sandals trip?” I confirmed, “Yes, a jeans and sandals trip. Going there and coming right back.” With that, I was surprised to see her come downstairs with only a tote bag and all in less than five minutes! 

The next night on our return home when our lives intersected with a drunk driver’s poor choice, and Meagan’s life was taken, I was utterly lost, confused, disoriented spiritually. I felt God had abandoned me, but I also believed, as we had prayed, that God holds all things in His sovereign hands, and nothing happens without His approval or intervention. Yet, I was lost, and my heart completely shattered.

After the crash and home from the hospital, our youngest daughter Melody brought Meagan’s cherished designer watch to me knowing I would want to put it up for safekeeping. I decided to wear it—as a way to be near Meagan. My sisters and Mom were with me as I sobbed over the watch and missing my Meagan. Then suddenly, I began gasping for air and crying, “Take it off! Please take it off! Take is off!” This is all I could manage to communicate in my shock as I tried desperately to remove the watch from my wrist! My sister Zoe quickly unclasped it and hugged me asking what was going on. I could barely speak. I was a mess of jumbled words and emotions as I tried to point out that her watch (the watch Meagan chose not to wear on this “jeans and sandals trip” and intentionally left behind) had stopped at the exact minute of her death!! Her watch that she left in her bedroom stopped as she took her last breath. 4:18. Meagan’s favorite watch forever paused on 4:18—the delicate crystal face marking her transformation from this life into eternal life with The Father.

We didn’t know what to do with this, but it did not take long for Leo and me to agree that God saw fit that we, as her parents, would be in need of a huge spiritual fingerprint to confirm that Meagan’s death was no surprise to Him and that He even foreknew the exact time of her death.

Our Great God is not confined by time. As for God, we cannot box Him in by the boundaries of time; yet, He does use time because we are creatures captured by it. I share this story of God’s sovereignty, of how it impacted Meagan and consequently Leo and me, but also to challenge you as we have been challenged, to inspire you, to hopefully break down some spiritual walls, and to ultimately give Him glory. 

God revealed His sovereignty in many ways during our tragedy over the years, this is only one. But, as I look at today and wonder “why,” I am reminded that HE is GOD and He is in control, and I am not. He does not owe us any explanations. Though He loves us, some things are not for us to know, and some things require trust and faith—two very difficult choices, daily choices. What is God trying to show you today? Do you see His fingerprints in your life? Whether storm or calm, He speaks. And if you are in a time of waiting—remember, He is also in the waiting. 

“My sheep listen to My voice; I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of My Father’s hand.” John 10:27-29 (NIV)

“All the days ordained for me
were written in Your book
before one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:16(NIV)

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:38-39 (NIV)

Tag. You’re it. 

WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT

WHAT’S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT

I was thinking that I could check off this box. I thought God was finished working on me in this area, so I tucked it away. I thought God and I were focused on all the other messed up areas of my wounded heart. Then, someone turned the light on!! Uhhhhhh!! I’M BLINDED! TURN OFF THE LIGHT!!

BLINDED! I was recently asked, “Do you love Joe?” (Joe is “the other driver” who had been drinking and crashed head-on into me and Meagan, killing my daughter instantly.) 

I didn’t want to think about it, but the question painfully resounded, “Do you love Joe?” What began as a general response suddenly became a spiderweb of emotions: “I can love Joe as part of the human race and God-created, but I haven’t thought about loving him as an individual, as ‘Joe.’ I have forgiven him, and I can pray for him, but I have never asked God to give me love for Joe. Honestly, it would have to be a God-thing! I was good with the miracle of forgiving him…Now I am in tears because this stings my heart. I need to love Joe!”

The reality is that I am commanded to forgive, which I have by the grace of God. And while I have forgiven, God also extracted hate. So, I have been content to believe that the absence of hate is love. And I did not give it further thought…until now. 

My young friend, who “turned the light on,” recently lost her younger brother to an unremorseful drunk driver and is struggling with many of the things I have or am struggling with. God has given her deep insights to her battle and her question has overwhelmed my soul. To my response, she replied, “It would have to be a God-thing for me to have any ounce of love for [the drunk driver] too. It sounds harsh, but it’s the truth. I’m called to forgive him, but I don’t know if I am called to love him as a person…I guess loving him as a person means forgiveness. The weird thing is that we forgive our loved ones because we love them, but this time it’s the other way around:  forgiveness came first!” 

I know my Meagan, being in heaven and truly living in the LIGHT, would encourage me to love as Jesus loved. UHHHHH! And, I don’t know if I can even pray for that. I was content with the absence of hate, but I am pretty sure this is not what Matthew meant in the Bible when he said, “Love your enemies.” (Not that Joe is my enemy, but we are not friends, so this verse covers all and in-between.)

“You have heard that it was said, love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. For He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward will you have? Don’t even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing out of the ordinary? Don’t even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Matthew 5:43-48

What I have come to realize even further is that I need to pray that God would give me the desire to ask to love Joe. Oh my gosh! I have to pray about praying!  And if I want to look more like Christ, I’ll have to stare at that lightbulb and pursue this until it is a reflection of my heart! Are there others I need to love? And how wide, how deep, how high is this range of love challenge? God’s love is limitless, inexhaustible. Is it even possible for me? Can I love those that hurt innocent children, torture animals, neglect the elderly, act out heinous crimes with no apparent remorse? I don’t know if my heart is even capable of this. YET, I refuse to stand before God in the end and say, “It was too painful, so I turned the light off.” 

WHY does it not surprise me in the least that God put this on my heart before I knew Sunday kicks off our pastor’s new sermon series titled, “LOVE. EVERYONE. ALWAYS.” I expect the LOVE lightbulb to get even brighter as I sit under this teaching. O God have mercy.

So…onto God’s workbench I go yet again. Somehow, I keep sliding off! And I’m thinking I am not alone in this. Could this be a “lightbulb” moment for you? The fact is that God loves us too much to leave us as we are AND on His workbench is the best place to be. By His grace, there is room for us all! 

GOD, help me want to love as YOU love! Hammer, chisel away until my heart is a reflection of YOU. 

Tag! You’re it!

“The goal of this command is love, which comes from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.” 1 Timothy 1:4-6

 “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

Comment. Share. But do pursue the light with me.

WORD

I am a journaler and I love to write, like most painters love to paint. When I was a little girl, I learned the gift of letting go, letting my heart pour out onto paper. The gift of letting my thoughts direct the strokes of my pen. Often, only a single word finds its way to my page because words are often insufficient for the cries of my heart. A single word, a single name— “JESUS!” Other times, my soul flows like a river cascading through pages. Every time, whether word or river, He is faithful to meet me. 

Our son and daughters are journalers. My Leo and our son are wordsmiths, gifted songwriters. My mom majored in English and Speech and has a passion for words, and my father is a storyteller. Words, well, they are a part of my heritage, a part of my life.

When Meagan was about 16 and studying Spanish in high school, she came home one day and said, “Mom, from now on I am going to call you ‘Misma.’ It is a Spanish word that means ‘same, constant,’ and YOU are my constant.”  Her face—unforgettable. Her words poured over my soul like lavender oil. Words failed ME at that moment. I was speechless. But my heart was overflowing with thoughts and emotions. I grabbed her and just held her for a long time. 

Meagan began calling me Misma intertwined with Mom and Rebecca. And she began to address all her notes, cards and texts, Misma. Each time, my heart would just melt. I have cards and letters I go through often, Happy Misma’s Day! Happy Birthday Misma! And with this new nickname, she taught me to sign my notes and cards, ‘tu Misma,’ meaning ‘your Constant.’ Not once did I sign those words without pause and humility. ‘Your Constant.’ Phew! My eyes well with tears.

I have been everything but constant these past years since the crash. Last year, I began to cry out, “Whatever Meagan saw in me, anything, everything she saw in me that inspired her to call me Misma, I want to be again and more.” I want to be unwavering and steadfast for my husband, my family, the people I meet, for my God. I want to be like a tree planted by the water. 

They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. Jeremiah 17:8 (NIV) 

I have set the LORD always before me, because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Psalm 16:8 (KJV) 

Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him. Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken. Psalm 62:5 (NIV)

So last year, December 14, 2017, I did it! I did what my heart has been yearning for, but this time not on my paper, and not through my pen. I had an artist tattoo Misma on my forearm in Meagan’s handwriting. One word. The power of a single word. Misma. A sweet reminder of my daughter’s heart. A tangible word now engraved on my arm—a constant visual reminder of my challenge, my inspiration. And, just as Jesus has been faithful to walk with me through this difficult journey, He will continue to meet me and mold me into His image. Have mercy, sweet Jesus! Help us be more like You, “Jesus Christ, the SAME yesterday and today and forever.” Hebrews 13:8

STROKES OF GRACE

Leo and I are celebrating our 37th wedding anniversary this week, and we posted that milestone on social media because it IS a miracle. At the same time, we are soooooo very aware the sting that it may cause some of our friends. I was thinking this morning, people need to know that it hasn’t been all glory and sunshine for us. Leo and I have had some serious fire and trials in our marriage, but GOD has seen to it that we never fell away from our commitment to HIM, nor to each other. 

Let me paint a big canvas: we almost lost our son when he was a baby; we almost lost Meagan when she was a baby; we have suffered the suicide of Leo’s only brother just 3 months prior to the crash that took our daughter’s life and wrecked us! Within a short time after, we grieved through the divorce of immediate family members that tore through our family like a tornado. Do you see the canvas? It is bruised with colors representing pain and sorrow and confusion and loss BUT beautifully reflecting His Sovereign brilliant strokes of grace and mercy. We celebrate 37 years but are painfully and gloriously aware that it is ONLY by the grace of God!!

We all grieve differently and sometimes worlds apart. The first year of the crash, I lived in our bedroom unable to be downstairs where “life” once was. Leo couldn’t bear the deafening silence of our bedroom, so he spent his time downstairs where…“life” once was. Months into this tragic journey, he called a family meeting and said, “I know you and I are grieving differently but I need us to meet in the middle and commit to have dinner together every night at the dining table.” That was a game-changer. We were fighting to stay above the waves together. 

Grieving so very differently, I cannot tell you how many times one of us threatened to run away to live in a cabin in the mountains. We finally came to a place where we had to commit to each other that we would not desert the other. And if we ran away, it would be together!

The canvas is ever-changing because HE is re-writing our lives. There remains the broad colors of pain and sorrow, but more so, the brilliant strokes of grace and mercy and redemption and His glory!

I hurt for so many that know this pain we know. But that’s what I want you to hear. Celebrate what you have to celebrate. But also know that life deals us some hard blows and that somewhere, to someone, your celebration will sting. Wedding, new baby, new job, new house—celebrations that may sting others. For instance, PLEASE do NOT let this stop you, but I struggle with family photo Christmas cards! Each one is beautiful like a rose with thorns. Does that make sense? We have not posed for a family photo since our tragedy and who knows when we will. And let’s not even talk about National Daughter Day! Gosh, what turmoil this brings because we have our wonderful youngest daughter, but I am also missing one! I am caught in the emotional chaos of how to celebrate the one without acknowledging I am missing terribly the other! So, I ignored the day. (Sorry Melody.)

Do you see where I am going? Life is sucky and it brings pain and heart-wrenching thorns, but it also brings newness, goodness, and glorious moments! So….our celebration is a testimony of God’s faithfulness in our storms—that even when we could not hold on any longer, HE NEVER LET GO OF US! (And, it doesn’t hurt that Leo is cute and has a beautiful heart!)

I love you people! Thank you for hearing me out. I hope above all, that you heard my heart, and it reflected the love of our Father. We are all in this together, and we have a hope the world cannot give—His name is JESUS!

WONDERS IN THE DEEP

I was reminded Sunday of a memory triggered by our pastor’s latest sermon series titled, “Finish Well.” In the fall before Meagan’s “going home,” she decided to participate in our home group Bible study with a preface similar to, “I can only commit to a few visits of your ‘old folk’ group until I find a new Bible study of my own.”

With the curriculum came homework that she and I worked on while relaxing on our back deck in the Chicago-burbs. One particular day, we decided to discuss our answers. I distinctly remember thinking this would be some good mother-daughter time, but how I underestimated God’s plan! What I thought would be a “good” Bible study turned out to revolutionize my life and prepare me for what was to come.

I remember that particular day and Meagan’s countenance as we talked through our homework; how she relaxed on the patio chair with her feet propped up on the little side table. I remember her gently tapping the corner of her mouth with her pen as she spoke her responses. I believe I even remember what she was wearing. THAT’s the impact this moment had on me. And I remember my response to her response to one of the questions, “Hmmmm, I never really thought about it that way. I read the question differently. Hmmmm.”

“How did YOU answer the question, Rebecca?” (Yes, often she called me Rebecca.) Still captivated, I read my less-impressive answer though I knew it was biblically sound. She replied, “Well, I get that, but that’s the easy way out. If you read the question the way I did, what would your response be?” I said, “Let me think about it for a minute.” And I remember staring at my worn Bible, marked up, tabbed, highlighted, with scribbled notes throughout—29 years of studying it, inhaling it, and pursuing God through it. After a few minutes of silence, my heart spoke from a deeper place as we continued going through our homework together. Needless to say, I re-wrote some of my answers because I longed to stay in this deep place!

How is it that my 24-year-old daughter dove so easily into the depths for her answers? How is it that I did NOT? Did I take the easy way out so that I could quickly finish my work? Or was I sometimes more comfortable walking along the shore? 

Oh, I miss talking about GOD and life with Meagan. I love her passion and her intellect. I loved hearing her mind process her thoughts and struggles. I love how HE challenged me through her, and how HE would occasionally sting my soul. This was one of those times. And the sting came when she kindly said, “That’s the easy way out.” Yes, that was my easy response, the stock answer. Why did I not search every corner of my soul for fuller truth? More importantly, why did I not ask GOD to reveal my heart and wait for HIS thoughts on the matter?

Where are the curriculum study books now and what were those questions? Somewhere in our packed boxes safely stored away. Someday, I’ll come across them and get emotional because it seems like yesterday Meagan and I were on the back deck discussing theology and God’s Word, and yet sometimes it seems like forever ago! Regardless, I am quite certain that when I do come across our books, I will find after walking this journey of pain and grief and anger and forgiveness and redemption and grace, that my answers will be so radically different than before. When you’ve been blistered by the desert winds and experienced the deep ocean floors, answers come from a place never known before. MY pages will be tear-stained for the ONE I love. I had heard of HIM, but now my eyes have seen HIM (as Job so reverently stated in chapter 42:5.) I have experienced HIS grace in the darkest of hours, in the darkest of places. I will NEVER be the same! And I will NEVER pursue the easy way out! In fact, I have often said, “The God I serve is not a God of easy way outs!” HIS road is hard and often painful. HIS ways demand faith. HE chastises those HE loves. YET…HIS grace is endless. HIS love unconditional. HIS mercy new EVERY morning. You bet I struggle daily, but HE gives me strength to stand, to take the next step—no matter what my eyes DO NOT see. 

From the trials of Joseph sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, Daniel in the lion’s den, or David fleeing into caves for his life from paranoid King Saul. From the parting of the Red Sea and the Children of Israel walking through to safety. From God testing Abraham using his only son Isaac. From Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego and the fiery furnace seven times hotter than usual. From Jesus’ disciples, some making their biggest impact from prison cells. To Jesus being called to die a sinner’s death on the cross for all mankind. GOD is not a GOD of easy way outs! HE IS, however, THE GOD who makes a way through! Isaiah 43:19 “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Psalm 23:4 “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for YOU are with me…” Always a way through!

I no longer want to walk the spiritual beach. I want the deeper things. I want HIS mysteries that lie in the depths of the ocean. I want JESUS and to hear HIS voice that sometimes can be found in a gentle breeze, and often times ONLY in the fire! 

What is it that you want?

Psalm 107:23-24 “They that go down to the sea in ships,
that do business in great waters;
these see the works of the Lord,
and His wonders in the deep.”

Who among us is brave enough to pray the prayer of an old Cornishman from Streams in the Desert: “O Lord, send us out to sea—out in the deep water. Here we are so close to the rocks that the first bit of breeze with the devil, we are all knocked to pieces. Lord, send us out to sea—out in the deep water, where we shall have room enough to get a glorious victory.” 

ASK ME

Prayer seems to come so easy for some. I love being around those who have been given the gift of prayer. Prayers obviously prompted by the Holy Spirit. Prayers that make you feel like you’ve just been ushered to the feet of God! Too often, my prayers are for me because I am so desperate for healing on so many levels. It is more difficult than it used to be for me to pray, because I can’t always see past my own pain and “spiritual weeds.” I pray for my family and friends and needs I am made aware of, but then again, I do not trust my own heart, so I take these matters before the Lord—desperate for the Holy Spirit to guide my words, my prayers. Desperate for the Holy Spirit to speak louder than my heart!

It was in the quiet morning hours when the Lord challenged me, “Ask ME how you should pray.” The silence captured my attention, and a transformation began. “How to pray” was a revelation I had after the tragedy, because the fact was magnified that I had NO CLUE what to pray, how to pray, or what God wanted me to pray. That’s the one that stung the most—how could I, Rebecca, possibly know the will of God in any situation, especially our tragedy? That’s when I learned to pray The Word, like my friend Carla. But to pray The Word like Carla, one must be saturated WITH The Word like Carla. And I was a sponge dying for life in the Scriptures! Praying The Word became a powerful safe place for me—the right place for me.

I wonder, how often do we approach the Lord and ask, “Lord, how do YOU want me to pray?” “How do YOU want me to pray for my friend, or how do YOU feel about this situation, so I can pray effectively?” “Holy Spirit, speak. I am listening.” If I love Jesus, and more importantly because HE LOVES ME, then should I not begin my prayer (after acknowledging His awesomeness and sovereignty), by asking, “What is on Your heart that I should pray?” It’s the pause before we pray. “The power of the pause,” as my friend Sharon would say.

I remember being approached to pray for someone soon after the crash—for someone who was diagnosed with a fatal illness. I was shocked that they trusted me because surely, they could see the condition of my heart. I felt they asked me to pray as though I now had some special connection to the Throne Room of God. (I confess, that was my crippled thinking at the time.) In a state of panic, I whispered, “Dear Lord, help me, because they are praying for healing as though it is Your will; when in fact, I know full well that no one knows the mind of God. How dare we presume to know what Your will is. We don’t know Your thoughts. We don’t know Your ways. Your “perfect will” might be to relieve this brother and take him home. You may very well want him home!” “HOME”—that thought came crashing down on me like an avalanche! A depiction our youngest daughter painted after God took our daughter Meagan, “Mom, maybe God took Meagan because He wanted her with Him. Why wouldn’t He?” Stopped in my tear-filled tracks! Yes! Why wouldn’t He? And my prayer life changed forever!

In Isaiah 55 it is written, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.” The crash, “the valley of the shadow of death,” the loss, the trauma, the brokenness, the struggle, the grace, the miracles, the ever-reaching arms of Christ, the ever-forgiving heart of the Father, the leading of the Holy Spirit—all factors that began to re-shape the way I pray.

TRUTH…God does what He pleases, when He pleases, to/for whom He pleases. And He does what He chooses for His glory and our good. Whatever He chooses. When He chooses. Our Sovereign God will accomplish what He wills, when He wills, as in Psalm 135, “Whatever the LORD pleases, He does, in heaven and in earth, in the seas and in all deeps.” 

When will our petitions reflect what HE wants rather than our own desires? When will our hearts pray spontaneously, “THY will be done.” This is a continual battle, is it not? Shamefully, I admit that I fear His will or don’t always like the outcome of some of my prayers. But that is just evidence that I am still a huge work in progress. And things won’t change for any of you who are like me until we put ourselves daily in a position of surrender; a posture of relinquished prayer; a true and honest acceptance and assurance that He is God, and He holds ALL things in the palms of His mighty hands.

God used Romans 11 Doxology to put me “in my place” regularly when I dared to question why He allowed this tragedy to befall us. In fact, He used my friend and pastor’s wife Sue years ago to challenge me with this passage in an ever-so-gentle fashion. As she read the Doxology out loud, I retained it immediately as though she was writing it upon my heart. The sheer truth in it changed me forever! It put me in my “right place,” but it also gave me power! POWER to PRAY against the enemy and his schemes, and the POWER to STAND because My God is THE ONE TRUE GOD, and nothing or no one can touch me or mine unless HE chooses! By the grace of God, there is a crazy comfort in that TRUTH.

Romans 11—Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
    How unsearchable His judgments,
    and His paths beyond tracing out!
“Who has known the mind of the Lord?
    Or who has been His counselor?”
“Who has ever given to God,
    that God should repay them?”
For from Him and through Him and for Him are ALL things.
    To Him be the glory forever! Amen.

Oh, if our prayers would mirror the above passage! How much more effective our petitions would be if we acknowledged Him for Who He is, then asked Him how we should pray, and then listened even when the silence is awkward. Those prayers prompted by the Holy Spirit, I feel, would have an impact we never dreamed. Those are the prayers that birth miracles! Those prayers would be "out of the box" prayers—because God lives and thinks out of the box! Out of the box are where miracles happen! Out of the box is where I want to live.

O Lord, teach me to do Your will, for You are my God. As Meagan wrote in her Bible, “Lord God, may I no longer see with my own eyes, but with Yours! In all things!” And so, she does! May it be so for me and you here on earth and in heaven. May we no longer pray with tunnel vision but with YOUR ETERNAL PERSPECTIVE. May we pray Your heart. And then, please give us the strength to bear Your response and walk boldly in it. Speak, Lord, we are listening.

Tag! Your it!

THAT IS NOT YOURS TO GIVE

I wonder how many of us believe when we are in a crisis, going through a tragedy, or smack in the middle of hell, that God turns a blind eye to our actions and emotional outbursts. Or when we are living our worst possible nightmare, God excuses our ungodliness. Well, it ain’t so! Though our Sovereign God is more forgiving and merciful than we could ever think or imagine, HE is still Sovereign and Holy and Righteous…AND able to make us stand firm even when the earthquakes beneath us.

I was in the hospital after our tragedy and was completely lost. I thought all the things you would imagine, including, “God, what have You done!” My brain COULD NOT grasp the crash, the death of Meagan, the life I was somehow supposed to now live! I laid there in the midnight silence unable to rest my mind. I was in complete shock at what had happened a few hours prior and felt imprisoned in my own skin. I wanted out—out of everything but could hardly move!

Silence. I was crippled by the night silence. Then I heard that strong, powerful voice I loved for 30 years interrupt the turmoil in my head, but not as you would suppose! As with a holy pen My God etched His warning across my soul, “You will be held accountable for the words you speak, Rebecca.” WHAT?!

But I knew immediately, in all its fullness, what He spoke. I knew what was expected of me. And though my heart was shattered in a million fragments, and I was barely hanging on, I knew my mouth had the power of life or death. I could feel its power of life or death weighing at the tip of my tongue!! That moment, I determined NO soul would fall because of words from my mouth or pen. I would NOT go through this hell and be responsible for anyone turning their back on God because of anger, hate, bitterness, grief, doubt spewing from my lips or writings. I also knew He warned me against wounding my fellowman. He gave me NO excuse to bite at anyone just because I was injured and hurting. With this word of caution, I knew because He declared it that He would give me the power to walk in it!

Precious friends out of concern tried to assure me it was okay to “lose it” and be real; that God understood my pain and could deal with anything I threw out there; that God would understand and so would my friends, family, neighbors, etc. But with each concerned assurance, a holy anger would rise up in me! Yet, I would take a moment before responding, “That freedom is not yours to give me.”

You see, the Lord knew how critical His message was, and therefore, delivered it immediately following the tragedy. He made it clear that I would be held accountable for my words and actions during this terribly difficult journey. He made it clear that if I were a new “believer,” much grace would abound; but I had faithfully served Him 30 years at this point, and thus would be held to a different standard. I have taken this warning very seriously. God used hundreds and hundreds of people to lavish us with love, hope, and prayer over the years; but there were those rare occasions when I wanted to body slam a kind soul for saying something that was just so painfully stupid. (Sorry.) In those times, I learned to quickly excuse myself and cry it out to God—alone!

That brings me to my last point. Though God issued me a truth that night in the hospital, He has also been right there in the darkest hours with me, carrying me by His grace, loving me unconditionally. And in these times where it is just me and My God, things are very real and transparent and emotional—on both sides! He lets me cry and scream (NEVER at Him, I would not dare!), and hide in my world. But then there comes a holy moment when He beckons me to come out and fall in His loving arms until I can stand up on my own again. It is during these times in His arms that my storms subside, my pain becomes His, and I can see the sun, and make it another day.

Psalm 34:18 “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

Ephesians 6:13 “Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.”

Provers 18:21 “The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.”

Matthew 12:37 “For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned."

Proverbs 13:3 “The one who guards his mouth preserves his life; the one who opens wide his lips comes to ruin.”

Colossians 4:6 “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.”

Ecclesiastes 10:12 “Words from the mouth of the wise are gracious, but fools are consumed by their own lips.”

Psalm 103:1 “Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name!”

Psalm 145:21 “My mouth will speak the praise of the LORD, and all flesh will bless His holy name forever and ever.”

Psalm 139:1-6 “You have searched me, Lord, and You know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise; You perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue You, Lord, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before, and You lay Your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.”

A THANKFUL HEART FOR A PERSONAL GOD

I was invited to a SILENT retreat hosted by a friend's church a few winters ago. The setting was a historic regal seminary nestled around a frozen lake in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, complete with beautifully crafted buildings enhanced with intricate brickwork and tall stately columns. The setting was breathtaking! We were in a glorious white winter wonderland with nature at her best.

The purpose of the retreat was to be quiet and alone with God. It was designed specifically and strategically around being before God—one on one; communing with our Creator without holding back; and then being quiet and seeking His voice, His response. Praising and listening. Repenting and receiving. Relenting and believing. I was 100% in!

We met in a beautiful candle-lit room with sky-high ceilings, and a long wall of ceiling-to-floor windows which showcased the constant snowfall outside. A life-sized wooden cross surrounded by dozens of candles lay on the old wooden floor. And gathered in this silence were women like me in pursuit of a personal God.

The focus of the meditation session the first night was on being “thankful.” It is easy to rattle off things we are all thankful for when prompted, but that was not the challenge. This night, we were challenged to search deep within for things HE wanted us to be thankful for. “Ask, and then listen,” as our host added, “be thankful IN your circumstance, not FOR your circumstance.” I laid out my yoga mat on the floor with soft music in the background and listened to our meditation facilitator talk us into that still, chaos-free, inner place of silence of the mind and soul.

Since the crash, my thought life is very different. My mind is literally a battlefield, and silence sometimes my worst enemy. But I began talking to the Lord in my mind about my struggles and revealing those hard places of my heart. And then I slowly laid it all down and let the silence overtake me. I pressed in like suggested and asked Him to show me places to be thankful. Minutes passed. I remember wishing I could stay in that room, in that silence forever. Then the stirring began.

The Lord revealed that I used to be a very thankful person beginning with the moment I awoke. Gratitude used to easily flow from my lips. Oh, how I used to love the sunrise! I would often thank Him for the sunshine and blue skies by saying, “I’ll take that as a kiss on the forehead from You!” But no longer. He revealed that though I was occasionally thankful, I was no longer a thankful person. The crash changed me in many ways, and though broken, He challenged the condition of my heart.

Then He gave me a revelation I NEVER thought about. A divine, humbling, soul-wrenching thought: He said, “I pray for you. Yet you are not thankful. My Word says that I intercede daily on your behalf before the throne of My Father. Yet are you thankful? I intercede for you because I love you, Rebecca. I want you to work on being a thankful person again. And though you feel it is impossible, if I speak it, it CAN be done.”

I want a thankful heart again. I want an embracing heart. What an awakening! No doubt, mending my heart in this fashion will take time, but I’m aware that the first painful step was asking, hearing, and accepting His revelation. God’s approach reminded me of a fighting pit bull; they go right for the throat and lock their jaws; but in this case, God went right for my heart and locked His grip. And that’s what I need…for Him to NEVER let go!  

That night, I laid there and cried, “UNCLE!”

Hebrews 7:25: “Therefore, He is able to save completely those who come to God through Him, because He always lives to intercede for them.” We have a SAVIOR who sits at the right hand of the Father always interceding for us—One who LIVES to intercede for us! Humbling! Too good for my mind to comprehend its fullness!

So, may I ask as we go into this perfect season of Thanksgiving, are YOU a thankful person or are you just sometimes thankful? Do you praise Him through the joys of life as well as the sorrows? For the triumphs AND the trials? During the blessings and the famine? Are you a model of thankfulness in your home? Like that night for me, could we change our prayer language to be, “Lord, what do You want me to be thankful for? What are the things that matter to You?” Ask, and then may we listen.

MY PRAYER:

Jesus, Lover of our Souls, may we seek Your heart and listen for Your voice. May we learn to pray the prayers YOU would have us pray. May we seek to be thankful for the things that matter to You. Thankful in the good times and the not so good times. Thankful FOR the trials and the triumphs. May we wake up in the morning with praise on our lips and praise as we fall asleep at night. As in our recent Sunday sermon, if You do nothing else for us in this lifetime except save our souls, may You find us thankful--a grateful and thankful people pursuing a personal God.

In Your name, Jesus, we pray. Amen.

A piercing thought taken from my friend adoggettbrown's Instagram post:

BAM! SMACK! POW!

Years ago, our two oldest Aaron and Meagan were involved in our church’s youth group play. Meagan, who was in high school at the time and all into drama, had the roll of a pregnant teen. The day of the play came, and she was busy dressing for the part with her hair up in a ponytail, wearing jeans, sneakers, and her brother’s sweatshirt purposely accentuating her extended belly. She looked totally convincing.

As it became time for them to leave, I followed them out the back door to Aaron’s vehicle. Meagan gingerly waddled across our wide driveway while lovingly holding her underbelly that only pronounced the fact that she was “pregnant." I led her out with my hand on her back to nudge her along and literally said, “Meagan, stop being dramatic. Hurry and get in Aaron’s truck before our neighbors see you! They might seriously think you are pregnant!” (Yep! I sure did!)

Never missing a waddled-step, Meagan looked at me with those big, brown eyes and said, “What’s wrong, Momma? You’re afraid our neighbors will think we are not a perfect family?” Suddenly, I found myself spiritually in an old Batman movie:  BAM! SMAK! POW! UGH! Down for the count.

Meagan pulled herself into Aaron’s truck while adding, “I love you, Mom,” and they drove off waving goodbye. I was speechless. Motionless. Spiritually spanked. But not so much by my Meagan, but by the Spirit that lived within her. Just like David with Goliath, God got me right between the eyes with a truth I needed to see. A truth that I could not believe was in the depths of my soul. The truth that not only was I prideful, but that I gave PRIDE an unbridled voice!

Scripture began to appear like huge banners across my mind:  Matthew 15:18, “But the things that come out of a person's mouth come from the heart, and these defile them,” Luke 6:45, “…for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks,” and Proverbs 16:18, “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.”

I do not recall how long the Lord had my attention standing there in my driveway. It seemed like hours, but I am sure it was only minutes. What I do know is that when I walked back into our house, I was humbled. Broken. Repentant. CHANGED.

To this day, I am shocked at myself and my prudish comment. I am shocked that those words flew out of my Christ-loving heart. I love people! I am drawn to people in need. I am called to be a support to young women. For goodness’ sakes, I led (and lead) a girls’ ministry!

Pride is part of our sinful nature and an enemy of our Sovereign God. Remember, it was satan's downfall! [I intentionally do not capitalize satan.] Pride and I have had many encounters through the years, and I wish I could say I always come out with Goliath's head as David did. Pride takes on many forms, and is not easily recognized; THUS the need for other Christ-chasers in our lives. It is critical that we surround ourselves with trusted people that will be honest and call us out like Meagan. I have a few in my life, especially Leo and our youngest daughter, who don't hesitate to uncover what I often do not see. They know my goal is to be more Christ-like. It is my prayer that the words of my mouth be pleasing to the Lord. I want to love like He loves and walk like He walks. I want this sinful man to talk less and repent more! I want people to see something different in me. I want to look like My Father! 

Pride doesn’t like to be revealed so prepare for a bruised ego and some enlightening battles. YET, each time we defeat pride’s attempt to score in our day is another gut-punch to the enemy, and I’M ALL ABOUT THAT! So, I ask, who is in your camp? Who do you surround yourself with:  "Yes friends" or people who lock arms with you and dare to speak Truth?

Proverbs 29:23 “A man's pride will bring him low, but a humble spirit will obtain honor.”

May we desire and live to be one He looks for as in Isaiah 66:2, “All these things My hand has made, and so all these things came to be, declares the LORD. But this is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at My word.” MAY THIS BE THE POSTURE, FATHER, IN WHICH YOU FIND US!

Tag! You’re it!