I WILL NOT CALL YOU WHAT YOU THINK YOU ARE!

I want the perspective of David!

I LOVE the books of Samuel in the Bible and find myself “in them” often. Recently, while our home church group was studying 1 Samuel, the Lord showed me something that I have personally never heard preached. Because HIS timing is perfect, I accept that HE knew when to lift the scales from my eyes thus forever changing my perspective.

Here…a new canvas; a new painting:

Back in the day, armies often avoided great bloodshed by sending out their strongest warrior to fight the strongest warrior of the opposing army. The winner was considered the victor of the battle for the whole army. Now, in 1 Samuel 17, the war between the Israelites and the Philistines was at a standstill for 40 days without either moving forward in attack. This was because both armies were camped on opposite sides of the Valley of Elah which had steep cliffs. Whatever brave soul would dare rush down their cliff through the valley then up the steep cliff of the enemy would surely suffer great peril. So, each side waited for the other to initiate attack.

Yet every morning and every evening for the 40 days, the Philistine champion Goliath, standing over nine feet tall as was common in the Philistine camp, would come to the edge of the cliff and taunt the Lord’s armies of Israel but also curse God Almighty in the process! His size and threats thundered across the valley into the hearts of King Saul and the Israelites to where “they were dismayed and terrified.”

Young David (earlier anointed as king by the Lord but it was kept quiet until God’s timing), was sent by his father with food for his brothers at the camp. It was then that David heard the rantings of Goliath and pressed his way through to the battle lines and approached King Saul. [I love how David, the 8th and youngest son of Jesse, is described in chapter 16:18, “I have seen a son of Jesse of Bethlehem who knows how to play the harp. He is a brave man and a warrior. He speaks well and is a fine-looking man. And the Lord is with him.” …And he plays the harp. That just gets me every time! Critical element, however, is “the Lord is with him.”]

Despite ridicule and doubt from his own brothers, David stood with tenacity and addressed King Saul, “Let no one lose heart on account of this Philistine; your servant will go and fight him.”

Saul replied, “You are not able to go out against this Philistine and fight him; you are only a boy, and he has been fighting man from his youth.”

Relentless, David responds in verse 34-37, “Your servant has been keeping his father’s sheep. When a lion or a bear came and carried off a sheep from the flock, I went after it, struck it and rescued the sheep from its mouth. When it turned on me, I seized it by its hair, struck it and killed it. Your servant has killed both the lion and the bear; this uncircumcised Philistine will be like one of them, because he has defied the armies of the living God. The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion, and the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.”

Saul sends David out, and in verse 45 David addresses taunting Goliath, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the Name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel…All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and He will give all of you into our hands.”

Then, as a mighty warrior mastering his weapon (5 stones and a sling) in complete assurance of his God, “RAN QUICKLY toward the battle line to meet Goliath.”

Did you catch it? IT’S PURE GOLD! Though everyone considered Goliath a giant among other giants, and were gripped with terror, David NEVER once addressed Goliath as a giant, but rather belittles him to a mere commoner, “this uncircumcised Philistine.” Through David’s eyes, Goliath was no one special. He didn’t address his 9+ft stature, cloaked in hundreds of pounds of head-to-toe armor including a bronze helmet on his head! No, Goliath was not a mountain that he could not overtake. David saw him for what he was, an enemy of God that was going DOWN!

How many times each day do we tremble at the sight of the giants before us? How many times do we stay on the cliff frozen in fear unable to see passed the giants, OR hear beyond the fear of others in our camp? These are rhetorical questions, even for me, knowing they happen too often. But do we want them to be our reputation? Do I want my epitaph to say, “Rebecca stood her ground on the cliff of fear?” No! Never! I want to get my perspective right when the sun wakes me, shake off the taunting thunder of fear from the enemy, jump into my armor of HIS WORD, and then RUN QUICKLY into battle for HIS glory. GOD help me run!

THERE ARE NO GIANTS WHEN OUR GOD IS HERE!  So, I will not call them such!! And fear: it only has the power we give it!

Isaiah 41 For I am the Lord, your God,
Who takes hold of your right hand
And says to you, ‘Do not fear;
I will help you.’

Psalm 118 In anguish I cried to the Lord,
And He answered by setting me free.
The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.
What can man do to me?
The Lord is with me; He is my helper.
I will look in triumph on my enemies.
 

Psalm 27 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?
When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh,
When my enemies and my foes attack me [seen and unseen],
They will stumble and fall.
Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear;
Though war break out against me,
Even then will I be confident.

“Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, David slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell face down on the ground…When the Philistines saw that their hero was dead, they turned and ran…Then the men of Israel and Judah surged forward with a shout…chasing down the Philistines…and plundered their camp.”

This mere uncircumcised Philistine is rendered powerless, not by sword or spear or javelin, but by a young man anointed by God and one smooth stone. Though it appeared Goliath had the advantage, Goliath did not realize that in fighting David, he was also fighting GOD! 

Hallelujah and AMEN!

NON-NEGOTIABLE

I was with a group of people recently when challenged with the question, “What is your non-negotiable?” The gentleman continued speaking but his question pierced my heart. Although I had multiple answers, one immediately jumped to the front. And though I kept silent in that moment, my heart pounded, and my thoughts raced back to the day God established this particular “non-negotiable” in my life journey.

It was 13 years ago. I remember when, where and why. At the time, I was the assistant to the CEO/Chairman of a large publishing company. I wanted to serve God with excellence while I also served this man of God—a man with high standards and high expectations, rightly so.

One day as I was praying, the thought came to me, “How can God equip me for the task at hand if I am first not in a position to receive.” Then I pictured my non-negotiable:  like a warrior would bow on one knee in allegiance to his king--bowing in surrender but also weapon in hand in a posture to rise quickly to do battle--I felt called to bow on one knee first thing every morning proclaiming, “My Lord, My God, I acknowledge You as my Lord and Savior.” This is not my time for prayer or petition. This is my time to declare my allegiance to My King as a child of God and as a warrior.

Within months, I felt led to get on one knee also before bed. I wanted to end my day as I began it—in surrender to Him. Leo quickly joined me and our non-negotiable was established in our hearts and we have not waivered a day since. We have stuck a stake in the ground, and it goes very deep. We don’t think about it. It simply and profoundly has become part of who we are, whether separate or together.

What is your non-negotiable? We all have them. And how deep is your stake in the ground? What is it in your life that you have anchored to the depths of your soul? When the enemy issues a blow that takes your breath away and stops your heart, what is it that you will not surrender? When darkness comes in like a thief and hides the sun, what is it that you have established (really, that HE has established) that is unshakable?

For me, the ultimate test came when our lives were turned upside down and our worst nightmare came true: a vehicle hit our car head on, and our daughter Meagan was killed instantly by my side. (I shudder as I write this as the sting is indescribable.) I was separated from my Meagan when the ambulance rushed me to the hospital despite my pleading to keep us together. After more trauma in the ER, it was determined I had seven broken ribs, my whole left side bruised, my bottom teeth knocked loose, etc., but I would survive. NOT the words I wanted to hear. None of these physical injuries mattered to me because the devastating loss was FAR more severe. I was in a nightmare!

The spiritual storm and chaos were tumultuous within my soul, YET when the sun came through my hospital window, I remembered my non-negotiable! I felt nothing but loss, I felt God had abandoned me, and my faith was in shambles; but my non-negotiable would not recede. It had already been set, established deep in the depths of my being! So, I asked Leo to help me out of the hospital bed and onto the hard, cold floor—one knee, in acknowledgement I whispered, “My Lord, My God.”

Through MY valley of the shadow of death, whether I feel like it or not, whether I am in a dark place of grief and confusion or a broken place of sorrow—one knee. So very many days and nights fighting for my sanity and my faith, all I can do is go back to what I knew—one knee! And the harder it is, the more I fight not to let the enemy rob it from me! No lies, no chaos, no darkness can take this from me! In the most treacherous of storms, this anchor had already been set!

And the Lord meets me in the darkness over and again, and inscribes His Word on my soul, as in:

Psalm 91:14-15

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;

I will protect him, for he acknowledges My Name.

He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble,

I will deliver him and honor him.”

Psalm 55: 16-17

“But I call to God,

And the Lord saves me.

Evening, morning and noon

I cry out in distress,

And He hears my voice.”

So, I ask you, what is YOUR non-negotiable? To give God time each day to speak. To put your spouse first…period. To pray over your children every morning. To commit to love your unlovable neighbor as God has loved you. To be a consistent example of Christ to your world. To journal. To fast one day a week for the rest of your life.

Tag! You’re it!

A CONNECTOR

I’ve spent my whole adult life trying to find purpose, and then seven years ago put me on a path that has expanded my range of questions. Why does GOD, the Creator of the Universe, care enough to know us by name? Why does this same GOD choose to make things personal and touch our lives in ways that are undeniable? Why for some does He reveal purpose and give them the ability to walk in assurance with steadfastness? And why for others does HE wait until their last days to reveal the impact they had by His grace. Each with a purpose. Some know and live it. Some live.

It is an indescribable privilege for me to remember my last conversations with my daughter Meagan. I admire her. She was one that walked with this assurance I reference. Though always searching for more, Meagan knew God called her.

Often, I asked why she didn’t want to join me as a front door greeter of our main campus church while up north. I repeatedly told her how perfect she was for such a position, yet she repeatedly declined. One of our last conversations on that fatal drive was unexpectedly about the assurance of knowing your calling. It began when I prompted her about being a greeter again. However, this time she unpacked her heart like an artist on canvas. I was dumbfounded as I listened.

She explained her awareness of how God gave her a heart to notice the outcast in a crowd; the student in class too shy to engage with others; the one person left out of a conversation at work; the loaner who didn't really want to be alone. She said she didn’t want to miss an opportunity to reach out, so she would kindly introduce herself and pull them into her world. They would eventually join her and her friends for a quick lunch near campus, out for dinner, a movie, or just to hang. She added, it may take a few encounters but in most cases they would soon warm up to her and engage. At this moment in the conversation, tears welled up in her eyes while we drove and she continued, “I know when I’ve pleased My Father, when I’ve completed my mission. It’s when that person is now going out with my friend and doesn’t tell me or call me. It’s when they no longer need me. It’s then I know I have done what I was called to do. I don’t have to be their close friend, and they no longer have to text me every day. God has called me to connect people, Mom. I am a Connector.”

She concluded with my full attention, “So rather than me being a greeter and investing little passed a handshake, I am called to something deeper. I want to be behind you guys in the atrium ready with a clipboard and pen to spot the people that come in alone or alone as a family. I want to find out what they need and hope for, and then 'connect' them to the right person, home-group, or guide them to the correct place in our monstrous church. I want to get at the heart, not just open the door. I know this will be a lot of homework for me to visit all of the home-groups and understand their uniqueness; investigate ministries; know all that our church offers--but that’s not a problem. So, when we get back home, one of the first things I am going to do is meet with Pastor Jim and share my vision. There is a need that I see, and it fits me. I want to ask him for permission to serve as 'a Connector.'”

I was captivated. I was inspired. What is it I long for more than His love, His grace, His purpose for my life? What is it you long for? We are all called for a purpose clearly. Ephesians 2:10 “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” How many of us settle and give up pursuit? How many of us "know" our calling and don't walk in it? Is that not sin? Should our heart's cry not be, "What do you have for me to do, Father? Your will be done." Oh, bless those of you who "know" and live it with passion!

For the "others," what is holding you back from walking in the fullness of His purpose? What is it so deep inside that would keep you from walking in His calling with the assurance of being called? Too often, we are our worst enemy believing lies that cripple us while trying to convince others that we have little or no purpose! What is this but sin, and sin against our Father and Lord! Oh, forgive me Father. Forgive me for not pursuing Your will with my whole heart, for missing opportunities You laid in my path, for robbing You of glory. Anything other than Your will is vanity. Speak to my heart and make Your path clear. I may not be a "Connector" but I am CALLED, WE are called...by Your grace and loving-kindness...for Your glory and Your great pleasure.

Psalm 138:8 “The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me; Your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands.”

WHAT AM I WITHOUT THE STORM?

As I leave south Louisiana today, my childhood "home", my parents, my sisters, and the "resting place" of my Meagan, I am full of emotions. Emotions of various descriptions flooding every ounce of my being. And I battle to let go as many as possible...but they linger like the rain.

I wrestled with my inner self out at the "site" as I saw my reflection in the black marble. Meagan's name. My face. HIS bellowing skies. HIS thunder and rain. HIS sovereign presence. I sat in silence, inhaling every Word He would speak to my soul as the rain began to pour, and the thunder grew in intensity.

As the rain continued, I sat in the car staring at my reality. Then my phone binged. It was a text message from our youngest daughter, Melody. His Word through her pen straight to my soul. Tears and a calmness came over me.

Here is Melody's writing this morning with the preface: "I don't know who this is to. I wrote it as my morning note for Chad, but it's to God...and to me...and to whoever relates."

I've Got This Heart

Last weekend our nine-year-old granddaughter Olive and I were in our church's Christmas program produced by Leo. We had speaking parts from opposite sides of the stage surrounded by darkness except for two huge spotlights. When Olive said after rehearsal, "I'm not sure how I will do when I see all the people looking back at me tomorrow," I responded, "You won't see them. Remember, all you can see is the light. Focus on the light." And then we both smiled thinking of the spiritual power in that.

Friday night came and at our designated times, the music dimmed as we walked out on stage in the dark and then... LIGHT! I did fine but it was Olive that blew us away. Such an excellent reader, she read strong with intent and purpose. The last line she looked right into the camera and said, "...and His kingdom shall have no end." Phew! My eyes watered. Backstage I held her face and told her how proud I was especially knowing how seriously she took her position. Leo hugged her with such joy.

After the program, dozens of people came up and told her how well she did and how impressed and touched they were by her reading. To each, she kindly responded, "Thank you." But as more people came, my heart grew more and more anxious praying, "God, please don't let the enemy rob what you've done here tonight. Please let Olive hear the kind words but protect her heart and how You have used her." Olive loves reading the Bible and has such an appreciation for it. I wanted so desperately to shelter her but with each person that approached her, I kept pleading that God would keep her heart pure because it was evident His hand was on her.

As we drove home after the program, Leo and I told her how proud we were of her and that we could feel the importance His Word meant to her; how we could hear it in the way she spoke. 

There was silence and then like the beam of light on the stage, a light broke through the quiet as she said, "I heard every word I said...but it was like...I wasn't the one speaking." [Pause] Leo and I looked at each other, and then he replied, "Sounds like the Holy Spirit was moving within you."

Quiet. Silence. Then Olive ushered in a holy moment, "You know...it's like God had a book...and...He used my hands to turn the page."

I covered my face to catch the tears while I whispered, "Wow! Do we dare say anything else?" Leo encouraged her, "That's what it is like when God uses you. That's the Holy Spirit when you give Him control."

As we rode the rest of the way home in silence, I heard a still, small voice whisper to my soul, "Rebecca, don't fret. Don't put your insecurities on this one [Olive]. Trust Me. I've got this heart. I've got "this" heart."  Tears...

 "Because [she] holds fast to Me in love, I will deliver [her];

I will protect [her], because [she] knows My name."  Psalm 91:14

DREAM A DREAM

I enjoy silence. I sit in its presence often trying to find the proper, biblical places to file my thoughts; seeking peace for things that have scarred me; searching for tranquility in my soul for things that have brought trauma. I pursue silence more than I pursue most anything else because it often calms the battle within. "...seek peace and pursue it." Psalm 34:14 and Isaiah 30:15 "in repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength..."

Recently in this quiet time, a thought came like many—unexpected and unwelcomed. A thought I brushed aside as frivolous. But then the thought came back this week ushered by what I feel was a holy whisper, "Where are your dreams, Rebecca?" Tugging at my heart relentlessly, "Where are your dreams?" And as though a window was blown open, I realized my heart has been empty of dreams, of hopes, for years, except one—the constant longing for heaven and seeing my Savior and my Meagan.

I used to be so filled with hopes and dreams. As a young girl, my parents had music playing through our home much more than TV. It was quite common, and still is, for my dad to get up from what he was reading or working on, walk over to my mom, take her hand, and lead her into a dance where they disappeared into their world of two. Partners. Lovers. And I watched and dreamed...

I had big dreams of getting married, traveling the world with my children, having a sanctuary for animals I would rescue, a ranch where children of all backgrounds could enjoy the majestic creatures of horses that I love so dearly. But pain has replaced the things I once longed for. 

Tragedies have such an impact on one's life and can completely alter the way things used to be. For many like me, they can rob some of your most precious treasures, and imprison dreams you cherished. You tend to live one day at a time, depending greatly on His grace to make it one day at a time. Thoughts of the future can be overwhelming, so you stay in "today."

But I've been dwelling on this "whispered word" for days now, and how important it is that we dream. What kind of life is it without hopes? Who really wants to just exist watching the sun rise and fall, rise, and fall? When we meet a child, why do we so often ask what they want to be when they grow up? Could it be because there is a part of us that wants to share in that dream; be a part of something innocent that hasn't been tainted or crushed by society; to see for even a moment through the eyes of a child again; to dream sometimes the impossible! Personally, I think God enjoys the dreams of children, and personally, I think He embraces many of them.

Our oldest daughter Meagan was so keenly aware that she had big dreams. She writes, "Lord, if there is one thing I know I can do well, it's dream big...Father, I know You have given me a heart that dreams big, and I know You want those dreams for my life. (Well, at least the ones that line up with Your will, of course.) But I also know that the dreams You Yourself have for my life are MORE than I could imagine."  Amen!!

"I HAVE A DREAM..." Why is this passionate speech of Martin Luther King so engraved in history and so beloved? Possibly because it inspires hope and causes us to want to make a difference.

Dreams drive us to our goals. Hopefully through prayer and obedience, dreams fulfill purposes that God has set before us. I'm reminded of Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Hopes, filtered through His Word, give us purpose.

This is all a process for me. The first step is realizing I've been awakened to a missing part of me. The second step is giving My Redeemer access to revive my heart and make a way for new hopes. The old may have died, but HE has hopes for my future! Put me back on your workbench, Lord. I will be still. I will be silent.

I think often of my hurting friends, and how you have suffered the toils of this life. Maybe you might want to join me on His workbench.  If you listen, you might hear His whisper as I did, "Dream...Hope..."

RESCUED IN THE BALCONY

I was in a desperate place, a place I never knew existed. I didn't want to wake up. I couldn't bear the day. I couldn't bear the night. I felt lost. I felt separated from My Lord. However, He proved yet again His faithfulness to His promise that His grace is sufficient because He gave me "manna" for the day in the measure I needed.

This particular day, I could not breathe. My brain simply could NOT wrap around the tragedy and seeing my daughter. I could not find God. I could not feel His presence. I could not sense ANYTHING except the pain wrecking my heart.

In my attempt to run away, I drove off and somehow ended up at our church in the Chicago area. I sat in the parking lot for a long time, then went inside to the receptionist, my sweet friend. I was trying to hold back an ocean of tears when she asked if she should call Leo. I whispered, "Please Joy, just let me slip up to the balcony. Please. I just need God." She tearfully nodded.

I made my way through the large church avoiding everyone, slipping into a corner, or hiding behind the atrium columns. I literally could not breathe. The waves were pulling me under. Finally, upstairs in the huge auditorium...quiet, dimly lit, alone, I took a seat. 

I took out my journal prepared to pen my soul's desperation to My Lord. I sat staring painfully at blank pages. I cried. I had no words for the anguish I was feeling. I could find no words to describe what I wanted Him to know. I just kept crying and pleaded, "I need to die. You need to let me die." [I know some of you have experienced the depth of this kind of pain because we have talked; we have cried; we have grieved; we have hoped. And this was that.]

I lost track of time. Blank pages continue to stare back at me. I was tipping on the edge of despair. I slowly gathered my things and managed a whisper, "Lord, I pleaded for You, yet You have abandoned me." One second, two seconds, three seconds...bing. Someone text messaged me. I didn't care about a text or who might want something from me. I didn't pick up my phone. I just sat there. I needed to be "gone." Bing. A second notification that I received a text message. Already packed up, I paused to think, 'Just check it so you can then let it go.'

It was as though Heaven came down over me and wrapped me up in the arms of God when I read the message from one of my dearest friends. She wrote:

"I stopped driving to text you, my friend. God put you on my heart with urgency. I don't know what is going on or where you are, but He has prompted me to share Romans 8:26 with you this minute, 'Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.' I love you, Rebecca! Praying!"

I WAS RESCUED IN THE BALCONY! God heard me. He heard my cries. He used my friend to bring light into my darkness. A text to remind me that I AM NOT ALONE, and furthermore, when I cannot find the words, the HOLY SPIRIT groans on my behalf! Silence. Breath. HE HAD ME!

In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I called. From His temple He heard my voice, and my cry came to His ears. [2 Samuel 22:7]

Oh, the importance of what one might consider a simple text message! Oh, the blessing of obedience and listening to the promptings of the Holy Spirit! The giving may seem simple, but we may never know what the impact is on the other side.

In our pastor's Sunday message, one of his talking points was, "Excel in the grace of giving," based on 2 Corinthians 8:7, "But just as you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness and in your love for us—see that you also excel in this grace of giving." As an example, our pastor mentioned the gift of a text message to encourage another, and I thought of my friend's special text from years ago, and it is as alive in my heart today as it was then.

After all the many ways the Body of Christ has poured out immeasurably and sacrificially on my family through this tragedy, I am humbly inspired to "excel in this grace of giving." For I have been RESCUED by this grace. RESCUED in the balcony. I love my friend who text me that desperate hour, and she knows! And I LOVE MY LORD who is never far away but rather close enough to hear when there are no words!

(ESV)

4 x 6

There is a little book I have carried in my bag for the last seven years. It is always with me. One of many books given by friends and family, but this one somehow attached itself to my heart. Small but profound. Small but piercing. Small and able to squeeze through the cracks of confusion and darkness in my soul.

A small book with a big name, “Experiencing Grief,” by H. Norman Wright. Pages tattered and road-weary, watermarks throughout, highlighted sections, underscored paragraphs, scribbled notes, exclamations, daring questions…and then Leo’s penned notes.

What is it about this little book that intrigues me so? Though I saturate myself in His Word regularly, it was early on that God began to use “Experiencing Grief” to assure me that “I am not going insane!” though I often feel I’m on its precipice.  He used this book to remind me that my thoughts are not irrational nor do my questions trip Him up; to open my eyes to "others" who experience a similar pain; and that it is okay to grieve because His Holy Spirit is with me.

Though I have fallen, 
I will rise.
Though I sit in darkness, 
the Lord will be my light.
Micah 7:8

If you, like me, have cried a sea of tears whether from joy or from sorrow, I would like to share an excerpt from this book, a quote by Max Lucado:

Tears.

Those tiny drops of humanity. Those round, wet balls of fluid that tumble from our eyes, creep down our cheeks, and splash on the floor of our hearts. They were there that day. They are always present at such times. They should be; that’s their job. They are miniature messengers; on call twenty-four hours a day to substitute for crippled words. They drip, drop and pour from the corner of our souls, carrying with them the deepest emotions we possess. They tumble down our faces with announcements that range from the most blissful joy to darkest despair.

The principle is simple; when words are most empty, tears are most apt.

Wright continues Lucado’s thought, “So much is distilled in our tears, not the least of which is wisdom in living life. From my own tears I have learned that if you follow your tears, you will find your heart. If you find your heart, you will find what is dear to God. And if you find what is dear to God, you will find the answer to how you should live your life.”

My heart yearns for my Father, the main reason I pour out my thoughts through my pen, and then listen for His voice. It has been a strange year on this journey. Strange because He has given me much hope and has brought what was dead (me) back to life. Yet there is this intense longing and sorrow that dwells within the same chambers.  I ache deeply. I shut down. I burst into tears. I withdraw. He woos me back to a healthy place and challenges me. I worship. I burst into tears in the intimacy. I withdraw. He woos me back. I run into His arms.

My prayer is the Prayer of Courage (Experiencing Grief): 

Help me, O God.
Give me the courage to cry.
Help me to understand that tears bring
Freshly washed color arching across the soul,
Colors that wouldn’t be there apart from the rain.

Help me to see in the prism of my tears,
Something of the secret of who I am.
Give me the courage
Not only to see what my tears are revealing
But to follow where they are leading.
And help me to see,
Somewhere over the rainbow,
That where they are leading me…is home.

Sovereign. REDEEMER. Grace-unending. MERCIFUL. Restorer. GIVER OF HOPE. Lover of my soul. TEAR-CATCHER.

But I call to God,
and the Lord saves me.
Evening, morning and noon
I cry out in distress,
And He hears my voice.
Psalm 5:16-17

Hallelujah! Amen!

A PRAYER I DON'T PRAY

JOY. I don't pray for joy.

In the seven years since the crash, though I have prayed MORE than ever, I personally have not once prayed for joy—"joy", not "happiness" which is temporary and rootless. For seven years now, I have talked to God about this—there is simply no room in my heart for joy. Though I could quote many scriptures pertaining to joy and the power of it, joy is not my "run-to" when I am desperate for Jesus hour by hour. Praying for joy while my heart is grieving and broken, and I am fighting to stay above the waves each day, is like praying for sand when I need air. Over the years some have prayed for joy for me and, I confess, it angered me because my heart hurts so deeply.

"...love, joy, peace..." fruits of the Spirit. All glorious gifts from our Father, but my prayer-life is different since June 14th. My concern is, and has been, more about being Christ-like through this journey. My desire is to hear Him speak and to always be listening for His voice. My fear is that I will miss a divine assignment! Thus, my prayers are not about joy, but more about the condition of my heart, that He will quiet the storm within so I can hear Him, and that somehow He will use me for His purpose each day.

Recently, I shared my thoughts on not praying for joy with Leo. I completely expected a gentle response but was shocked to find that I rendered him speechless. After a few raw moments of silence, he began talking about the sovereignty of God, quoting scriptures I knew about joy, as in 1 Peter 1:8, "Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and even though you do not see Him now, you believe in Him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy;" Nehemiah 8:10, "for the joy of the Lord is your strength;" Romans 14:17, "For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit;" John 16:24, "Until now you have not asked for anything in My name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete." Paul even writes with a spirit of joy from within prison walls as in Philippians. And of course, Luke 2:10, "And the angel said to them, 'Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people.'"

Bewildered, I asked Leo if he personally prayed for joy and he confessed, "No," and added, "but I never thought about it. I sure never purposed in my heart NOT to pray for it."

My heart pounded within me. Clearly God was using my Leo to awaken me to a truth that I did not ever give ear to—that I have intentionally closed my heart to one of the gifts of my Father. And tears flowed...for who am I that I would put up my hand to HIM who saved me. How dare I even entertain such arrogance.

Rick Warren wrote, "Joy is the settled assurance that God is in control of all the details of my life, the quiet confidence that ultimately everything is going to be alright, and the determined choice to praise God in every situation." I also found, "The joy of the Lord is the gladness of heart that comes from knowing God, abiding in Christ, and being filled with the Holy Spirit." In my processing the last few weeks, the Lord has prodded my heart to learn what HE wants me to understand about this gift of joy as I study HIS Word. So, I am on a journey of discovering "joy"!

My Sovereign Lord has set a challenge before me:  I am to PRAY ABOUT PRAYING FOR JOY. As my first step, I am trying to keep my heart at HIS feet in faith that I will hear HIS voice. I don't want to hold back anything. I want ALL of HIM and what HE has to offer! 

In sharing my thoughts on this prayer I don't pray, I have found I AM NOT ALONE! At first, I was relieved to not be alone, then my spirit grieved. How sad that there are prayers many of us are determine NOT to pray. Prayers to forgive and love someone who has hurt us. Prayers to serve in ways of His choosing. Prayers of obedience. Prayers of blessing on those we may find undeserving. Prayers to worship freely and unhindered.

What prayer do you NOT pray? You know, HE gets it. GOD understands the heart more than you think...because HE created it! I CHALLENGE you: Ask. Listen. Hear. Confess. Surrender. And let us witness the unfolding of Christlikeness in our hearts!!

Hebrews 12:2, "fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. For the JOY set before Him He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

I DID NOT FAIL!

Yesterday was a really tough day! In fact, this whole month has been extra difficult. I’ve been very emotional, and the reality is that I miss my daughter Meagan. This battle within impacts so much around me, including my part-time job working for a financial planning firm.

So yesterday at work, I screwed up royally. I misunderstood the urgency of a situation and…failed…right before I was about to shut down to head home. My mistake hit me hard and threw me deep into spiritual weeds. I could not see passed my mistake, nor could I hear anything but “FAILED.” The perfectionist in me rules with an iron fist often and yesterday was no exception.

But this morning during my quiet time with the Lord, reading the Word, and journaling, the dark clouds dissipated, and HE spoke to my heart. This is what I want to share, and I hope it lifts your head as well as your spirit:

First, if we give HIM the chance with a humble, listening heart—HE speaks! This morning, My Sovereign Lord reminded me that I took my eyes off HIM yesterday. I am not here to please man because I will surely fail. Since the crash, all GOD ever asked of me initially was to "get up and pursue HIM.” Then when HE placed this job in my lap after six years, HE challenged me to “get up, show up, and give HIM my best every day.” Yesterday, I failed a task! I did NOT fail My Lord! I have faithfully done what HE has asked of me during this terrible, grace-filled journey—GET UP, SHOW UP, GIVE HIM MY BEST! And I can say with a broken yet tenacious heart that I have done that! I have done that!!!!

So, thank YOU My Lord for yesterday’s failures, because YOU revealed Yourself to me “in the weeds” and reminded me that I did not fail YOU. I hear You: “Keep my hands to the plow, my eyes fixed on You, and keep running to You—for it is there I find my salvation!”

Thank You for NEVER letting go, even when my own strength fails me. Thank You for “stilling the storm within to a whisper and hushing the waves of the sea.” I love You Lord! I am of sound mind because of YOU!

My quiet time this morning was based on Psalm 107:1-9, 23-32:

Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;

His love endures forever.

Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story—

those He redeemed from the hand of the foe,

those He gathered from the lands,

from east and west, from north and south.

Some wandered in desert wastelands,

finding no way to a city where they could settle.

They were hungry and thirsty,

and their lives ebbed away.

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,

and He delivered them from their distress.

He led them by a straight way

to a city where they could settle.

Let them give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love

and His wonderful deeds for mankind,

for He satisfies the thirsty

and fills the hungry with good things.

Some went out on the sea in ships;

they were merchants on the mighty waters.

They saw the works of the Lord,

His wonderful deeds in the deep.

For He spoke and stirred up a tempest

that lifted high the waves.

They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;

in their peril their courage melted away.

They reeled and staggered like drunkards;

they were at their wits’ end.

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,

and He brought them out of their distress.

He stilled the storm to a whisper;

the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm,

and He guided them to their desired haven.

Let them give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love

and His wonderful deeds for mankind.

JUST WRITE

I am a journaler. Transitioning also into a consistent blogger, I am finding, is quite an endeavor. I've journaled my whole life, inspired by my mother, and a passion I share with our three children. There is something special about journaling in one of my favorite quiet spots, holding my "must have" pen in hand, and breaking open one of my two leather journals to the next blank page—a page longing for the thoughts of my heart. My pen ready to translate the cries of my soul or to record a personal moment with the Lord. Journaling—one of my favorite places to be, and one of the safest.

Then there is my laptop. Cold. Sterile. A daunting, endless blank page stares at me just daring me to write something worth reading. Deafening intimidation ever present. Yet my heart is full, and there are many thoughts on my mind. 

And then I remember the hand-written Post-It note found among Meagan's things:

“Write—

Write what you know.

Write what you don’t know.

Write what you think.

Write what you feel.

Just write.”

So, taking her lead, this is "what I know," and this is "what I feel":  NO matter where I go, or where my mind is driven, the Lord finds me. Better yet, He never loses me. There is no place my pain or guilt or anger or struggling can take me that HE does not meet me (Psalm 139). And often He does not mind waiting for me. Sometimes, I believe He even grieves with me. And eventually I hear Him beckoning me back to His arms. This is my Father. My only hope. The One who is holy and mighty and unlike any other. The One who saves and redeems and forgives and loves. This IS My Sovereign Lord. And I am working on embracing the assurance He promises that whatever tomorrow brings, good or bad, and regardless of the condition of my heart, I will stand if He chooses me to stand because HE IS ABLE (Romans 14). 

Typed or hand-written, He has my heart. This is what I also know.

What's in YOUR Heart?

Philippians 4:8-9 (NIV)

[Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is TRUE, whatever is NOBLE, whatever is RIGHT, whatever is PURE, whatever is LOVELY, whatever is ADMIRABLE—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me or see in me—put into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.]

So, I called our youngest Melody this morning to ask a quick question but told her I didn't want to talk. When she asked why, I said I was having a really rough morning, angry, sad, struggling. She answered my quick question and then said, "I have something else." "What?" She persisted, "I have something for you." Hesitantly I said, "Okaaaaay."

She said, "Think of something true." "True?" "Yes, Mom, just think of something true. You don't have to say it out loud, just think. Do you have it?" I said, "I'm not in a good frame of mind, Mel, but Ok."

"Now, think of something noble. Got it?" Begrudgingly, I said, "Noble? Ughhhhhhhh ok. Yes."

"Think of something righteous." With a long pause before each response, I replied, "Wow. Now you're making me cry. I know what you're doing, Mel. I know this Scripture!"

"Mom, think of something pure." "Oh, my heart is SO not pure!"

"Now lovely." "Ok..."

"Now admirable. Got it?" "Yes." Broken...

Then she slowly read the rest of the verse over me, "if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me or see in me—put into practice. And THE GOD OF PEACE WILL BE WITH YOU."

"...think about such things...put into practice." It's more than a thought process, it's a life change!  And then a promise:  "the God of peace will be with you." I don't think I spoke after that because The Word pierced my heart. All I remember was a tearful, "Mom, I love you. Bye."

My challenge to YOU:  next time it's storming within your soul, and Life is pushing you around, YOU check YOUR heart. Slowly dwell on each attribute and see what comes forth.  I hope you do better than me and that HE calms the storm quickly.

(I love you too, Melody!)

I CELEBRATE YOU

TODAY...a birthday!  Melody...27!  A changed heart...MINE! 

This is my confession to our youngest daughter Melody, but it is also evidence of the handprint of GOD in the deep recesses of my heart. I celebrate you Melody, today and forever!

Like birth pangs, I have struggled for the last seven years over each of Melody's birthdays since God swooped up Meagan. Each birthday becoming more painful than the last. Each year closing in the 5-year gap that defined "big sister" and "Little Mel", until there was NO gap. The year Melody was to turn 24, the age Meagan was last on this earth, was the hardest year. My brain just could NOT wrap around the reality. Then Melody shared she was struggling as well. This was going to be one difficult birthday with so many tears.

I labored since the crash over how to respond when people asked me the ages of our children. Aaron, our oldest...easy. Melody, our youngest...straight forward.  Meagan, our middle child...uh...well, she's uh... Then I decided on an unsettling response:  "Meagan is eternally 24. She's in heaven."  Uhhhhh!!! My eyes would fill with tears, but anger would rise up within me.

Consequently, I withdrew to avoid getting into cornered conversations with people when it came to our children. I LOVE our children and could talk about them all day, not to mention our grandchildren. But when faced with new people, their questions are like trying to walk through emotional landmines. 

UNTIL LAST WEEK...

I visited an old friend in town from Louisiana. We were talking "Life" when I shared some of the triggers that wrestled ME, especially when it came to our children.

Then my friend made a statement that lit up my soul! (Perfect timing as Melody's birthday approached.) My friend said, "Meagan is NOT eternally 24!! She is in her prime in heaven!"

My answered prayer! From my Father through the heart of a dear friend: "Our oldest Aaron is 33, MEAGAN IS IN HER PRIME...IN HEAVEN, and my Baby is now 27."

"Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you." Psalm 116:7 NIV

Melody, HAPPY BIRTHDAY My Baby Mama! I celebrate you and all the colors you have brought into my life for 27 years!  I celebrate you whole-heartedly this year knowing our Meag is in her prime! She is unbound by time, and one day we will be with her...IN OUR PRIME!

 I LOVE that! I love Y-O-U!

A Mom’s Song

My sisters and I recently surprised our mother for her birthday this past May. The first time it was “just us” in about 30 years! South Louisiana. Two parents. Three daughters. And some wonderful memories! And though two of us drove from Nashville and one from Houston, we managed, while driving, to write and rehearse a birthday song about our mother. A challenging feat because there are so many dynamics to her personality—she’s what I describe as “the whole box of crayons.”  

One of her many gifts is her passion and talent for singing. She sang on the radio as a young woman, always in church choirs, community choirs, participated in musicals and directed some. But it was the “living life musicals” that impacted me the most.

Some of my best memories are of my mother singing while sewing. As a child, I would make myself comfy by her feet and eventually fall asleep to the sound of her voice. I recall mornings getting ready for school and hearing her sing the old classics. Oh, how I quickly came to love them! And I remember all of the car rides and road trips singing songs as a family that seemed endless—songs we have passed on to our children and now grandchildren.

MAKING A HARD RIGHT TURN:  After the crash and seeing our Meagan ripped away from this life before my eyes, I battled life. No, I battled living! Though I still struggle, it was the first three years that my soul could not bear my pain. I was in an all-out pursuit of GOD and answers. I shut out the world and most all of my friends and pursued my Father with distressed tenacity like someone dropped in the desert and literally dying for a drop of water! HE was and is my only hope, and I knew it! But I needed HIM, His Word, His voice, His grace, and mercy MORE THAN water! And HE was faithful to meet me.

As I shut out my friends, I also shut out my family. I could not handle being alive. I reclused myself and came up infrequently to text or talk to any of them. I knew I was hurting them, but I had nothing to give. I tried texting and the occasional call to family, but it was not enough, yet it was all I had. And then my mom began doing something that for me was inspired by God. Beyond her voice messages of love, prayer, and encouragement, she began to leave messages of her singing. With my phone pressed hard to my ear, I would listen over and over and over, dozens of times a day, to my mom’s recorded voice. Softly singing, always broken as though singing through tears, her voice would carry me to a safe place. One of the messages she couldn’t manage words, so she hummed “Amazing Grace” through tears!!! I have never heard of such a thing! Only my mom!

Mom, though you may read this, and it stir emotions for you as it does for me, you will never know what gift you have given me with the gift of music, the gift of song, the gift of your voice. I managed to save three messages and will continue to rest in them when I need my momma’s hugs. GOD uses you often to “settle my soul.”

I love you, Momma. I love you MORE…

Daughter #3

In Her Shoes

Meagan and I wore the same size shoe, and over the years we would wear each other’s. We had our unspoken rules at heart: no squatting so that you crinkle the pointed toe; no driving with the right shoe on so that the heel gets marked by the floor mat or pedal; treat them as though they were your own; and always, always put them back in the box where you retrieved them.

Meagan is gone, seven years now. I have most all her belongings including her array of shoes. Sneakers to flat sandals, peep-toe high heels to boots—I treasure them all. And I wear them!

Over the seven years that I have been given the opportunity to share "Our Story" in public, I step into a different pair of her shoes and plead with GOD for every ounce of her gift of speaking that HE will allow me. And as I stand in her shoes, I hear her in my heart, "Misma, you can do this!" and I go forward and step into my purpose—oceans of deep grief touched by HIS hand of redemption.

I haven't run out of shoes yet. And HE, my Faithful, Sovereign Lord, has not loosened HIS hand upon me nor lessened the covering of grace over me. Everywhere I share "Our Story"—each venue, each school, each courthouse, each church, each interview, each taping, each camp, each Bible study, each mission trip, each conversation—HE has proven HE is ever-present, and HE will make me stand because HE is able! It has taken years...but I now see!

HE is able! Hallelujah!  And in my Meagan's shoes by HIS grace, I have stood in humility in a foreign orphanage, danced with villagers in the bush of Sierra Leone, walked in honor over Charles Bridge and into Prague Castle, ran through flooded waters in Pisek, walked with tenacity with M.A.D.D., and took the stand as the only witness at the State Hearing for "damages done to our daughter."  Tears, floods of tears.

In Meagan's shoes, I hear her whisper, "Misma, you can do this! OUR GOD is bigger!" Indeed, HE is!

So, those who have been concerned about my own personal walk, my own personal story, know that I have one! HE will "fulfill HIS plans for me." "It is GOD who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect." Does it matter what shoes I wear to walk my purpose? For me, it does! HE placed "me" to witness Meagan's escape from this life on June 14th. HE placed "me" beside her to have her last words. I wear her shoes because it's symbolic yet soul-warming for me. I wear her shoes every time I speak because HE uses them to remind me, she is not gone as one would suppose but is still fulfilling her calling...and I get to walk with her.

In her shoes, I will climb mountains set before me, and face giants I never dreamed. Our GOD is indeed bigger than all this pain I carry. Our GOD is bigger than anything I have experienced and will ever suffer. REVELATION:  When HE gives one a calling, it doesn't necessarily end with the earthly death BUT can continue for generations! And sometimes, another's calling intertwines with your own, like in this case—mother and daughter, two lives, two hearts, ONE calling: to glorify the Lord and know Him better! What a revelation! What a privilege!

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for YOU, O Lord, are with me!" Psalm 23

We Are American!

Thank You God that my parents raised me to have a patriotic spirit! I love being an American. I am blessed and proud to be an American. I say all of this while sitting on our back deck surrounded by the clamor of the very near and the distant fireworks on this day—this glorious day marking our forefathers who died so we would know FREEDOM.

Of course, the animal lover in me aches for the dogs howling and those driven with fear from the man-made thunderstorm. And for the bitty babies and their parents who wish this day would hurry and end. The "bombs bursting in air" from all directions seems never-ending and quite overwhelming. But I must proclaim how grateful I am that I have no fear as many across the oceans. I am safe in the harbor of our home knowing these are not bombs and gunshots seeking harm.

I am thankful to live in America, Father! I am blessed You placed my family and me here. So…BLAST AWAY all you celebrating folk! Light up the night with colorful blooms of explosion. Throw thunder my way so that my heart skips a beat! Scatter fear without concern in our animals—pets and beasts. Do what you must for this short time for WE ARE FREE! We are independent. WE ARE, by the grace of God, AMERICANS! Have mercy, Father!

Is It Well?

I tell a story to my little grandchildren of when I was a young girl growing up in south Louisiana. Why they like this story, I’m not quite sure. Anyway, it was a blistering hot day and under one of our big oak trees where I sat were dozens of the tiniest baby black frogs we called teetee frogs. I was fascinated, as were my two sisters, holding as many as we could in our palms. While all the others seemed to be bouncing beans, one stayed. It seemed comfortable being held. It was so small, much smaller than my thumbnail. Mesmerized, I carefully leaned forward to share the tiny baby with my dog. GONE! Yes! My dog in one quick move ate my little friend! GONE! Just like that! I was stunned into silence. What had I done! What did I expect! What in the world was I thinking! I didn’t blame my dog. I totally blamed myself. Even as a small girl, I knew the wrong was all mine. Silence.

Such a simple story to segue to a personal struggle:  Why is it so hard to forgive myself?

For seven years now, I have travailed over this. Why can I not forgive myself for my part in our tragedy that resulted in Meagan's death—a fatal car crash caused by a drunk driver? Yes, I forgave Joe within days of the crash, but unforgiveness toward myself lays deep in the recesses of my heart. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t feel prisoned or tormented by the enemy in this. What I feel is extreme disappointment in myself. 

Oh, the many, many journal entries and prayers to God pleading for solace. Days rolling into months while the pendulum swings from sorrow to anger directed at myself. What had I done!

A number of details I could have changed—before and after. You were not there; you do not know of the things I speak. And, no, I do not dare claim the sovereign power to spare Meagan’s life. There is much to this whole synopsis but focusing on it is not my point.

In my years of processing this painful struggle, I have some thoughts if you struggle as I do:

--I think it is easier to forgive others because “they” don’t live in my head. I can push them aside.

--I think maybe I find it hard to forgive myself because I can’t change the actions of others, but I could have changed my own.

--I think maybe it’s easier to forgive others because the expectations on myself are much greater.

--I think because I have regret, unforgiveness follows.

Then there is my Father’s gift of HOPE! HE has made me a fighter! HE has provided for me a firm foundation on which to stand—HIS WORD, HIS PROMISE. Though I can’t seem to forgive myself today for things leading to or those following 4:18am June 14th, I know one day, on HIS day, HE will give me peace with myself—because I pray desperately for it. And on the day of HIS choosing, my soul will rest in HIS sovereign grace, and I will voice like Spafford who penned the old classic, “It is Well With my Soul.” I will finally be well in my soul!

My day is coming. I am a work on my Father’s workbench. HE has not forgotten my heart nor the pain within. My day of redemption will come, and my soul will sing.

(Isaiah 55) You will go out in joy, and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

(John 14) Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Thy Will Be Done

June 13, 2016

“Thy Will Be Done”—Oh Father if I could only rest in those words with complete confidence. Rest like a child in her father’s arms. Thy will be done—how my soul longs to proclaim with complete surrender. Such terrifying words on one hand, as though I have any power of my own to control any part of my life. If only this inward battle would cease and surrender to The Truth that You are My Sovereign God, My Creator, My Only Hope, My Redeemer, My Savior, My Help in Times of Trouble, My Light in the Darkness, My Healer, The Lifter of my Head, My Author of Life.

Tomorrow marks seven years since Death intersected Life and changed us forever. Seven years tomorrow!

I know You see me, my heart, my tears. I don’t presume to know anything except what You have allowed me to experience. In my darkness, You reveal Your light. In my despair, You give me hope. In the raging storms within my soul, and the warring battles within my mind, You release peace—even if only long enough for me to breathe and refocus.

My heart aches profusely, but You hold me.

My prayers are utterances of a wounded soul, yet Your lovingkindness hears me.

You allow these eyes, that have been scarred by trauma, to see Your glory in the sunrise and Your goodness in the laughter of my grandchildren.

You allow this heart, that has been wrecked with pain and troubled by waters of confusion, to love again.

Thy Will Be Done—cries my heart in surrender.

Thy Will Be Done—Today! Tomorrow, June 14th! For all the chapters of my life!

Thy Will Be Done—may my heart inhale Your peace that comes from complete abandon!

What else is there to say; I have no control over life or death—You hold it all.

Today, I acknowledge Your trust and BELIEVE—You have me!

There’s a hand that holds my hand; the strong hand of My Father; His hand that won’t let go despite my childish tugs and pulls; a hand that remains firm in its grip and says, “Come with Me. Trust.”