Kings and Kingdoms

I missed the wedding of Diana and Charles 30 years ago.  I can scarcely believe it was 30 years ago. But I was sad that I did, so I made it a point to see William and Catherine.  Partly because I liked Diana, and hated what happened to her, and partly becasue I watched the story of how Will and Kate met, and the trials of getting to where they are.  William seems genuinely willing to do everything humanly possible to make their life together to be more about his love for her than about providing an heir. As I watched the whole affair, I became aware how much a part of the world the event of their marriage actually is, however. It is bigger than Will and Kate, and I truly hope it does not overtake them at some point. For now, I was delighted in the fairytale magic of it.  It was actually refreshing to see a real reason for a little girl to dream of a fairytale wedding, and a prince charming. To imagine that someone in this world is willing to stand up for what they believe in and make a go at making one change in their situation, and hope it is for the good. How closely these two actually resemble the fairy tale. The reality of it, make it much better than a movie. It is a bold move they have taken, for some will not like the money spent on the affair. And there already are the critics and analytics who are tearing them apart with criticism.

I was glad I watched the whole process, so much so that I watched it twice.When it was over, I came away with a new perspective that I never dreamed I would have. The Holy Spirit kept leading my heart to the return of our savoir, and the day his kindom will come. During the service, for their wedding was a church service, the Lord's prayer was recited. However, the last lines were left out. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven."  My mind continued to finish the prayer, and I was concerned that this part was left out from their prayer. I wondered if it was always left out in a service which included the Queen. But the rest of the service inspired me. I loved that they did not mince words when they told of the real purpose of marriage in the eyes of God. I loved that their preacher, said that they must transform into a couple, but not try to remake one another. For this was the failing in my own marriage. My husband and I spent 20 years trying to remake one another, and in the end of that period, I didn't know myself, I was lost, hated the person I had been made into. I wanted to die at that point, but I decided instead to find myself again, and it has taken 20 more years to get to a place where I know who I am again. So I prayed Will and Kate would heed the warning. I was also glad that the message made a clear reference to marriage, as God intended it to be. Marriage would reflect Christ's love for the church, and his act of love toward the church, and the church would be one with him.  It is a reference that scripture is clear on, a comparison which should be made and understood.

I also loved the song that was written for them, that quoted the scripture, "this is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." And that Kate's brother read the verses in Romans, with heartfelt intent that someone hear what he was reading. I have come away wishing I had a written version of the whole thing, so I could visit it again and again, because it blessed me.  Every song, every prayer, every word was written to lift up Christ, to include God in this their act of being married.  I really felt that for Kate at least, she intended to make it clear that she believed in this God, in this Christ, in this view of marriage.  I don't think it was lost on the ministers of this great event, that they would have an opportunity to witness to the whole world, and they took it. And I was proud that they did.
 
The second time I watched it I became even more aware of the message the Spirit was giving my heart. But the second time, my mind most definitely saw how their lives made a living example of Christ as the lover of his Church but also as their King. We often forget to uplift our Lord as our returning King. I know my children have some trepidation about a returning savoir, and a rapture of the church, because of it's end of the world, end of life as we know it, connotations. Yet, to me this wedding signified a shift in the modern understanding of a Monarchy from one with a female head, to one with a male head, one with a coming King.
England has been preparing for the change from the leadership of a Queen to the leadership of a King to the point of manipulating the love lives of its family to acheive it.  In a strange sort of way, it is as if God has allowed them to do anything necessary to make the shift.  As beloved as Queens have been, from Victoria to Elizabeth, the monarchy has longed for a King. I cannot help but see a parallel to the church awaiting the shift from the emphasis being on "the church", (the female part of the Christ w Church love story,)  to the emphasis being on the King, the messiah part of our Christ with Church love story. For years God has allowed that the Queens of England shine, but God is making a shift toward the time when a King will guide his commonwealth.  If the service has not been so poinant in naming Jesus as the Christ I would have feared William to be an antichrist, the parallels were so intense. But instead, I think William and Kate are simply a reminder that there is a scenario that Jesus told us to look forward to, where-in there is a loving Prince who longs to be united with his bride. A bride who, like the church, for a time seemed lost to him. A bride who had to walk away because the burden of being in love with him became greater than she could bear, because the laws and expectations demanded perfection, adherance to a strict set of dos and don'ts, and a bloodline that exempted the common one from being allowed to enter into love.
But her prince did accept her, seek her and made that vow of commitment to her.
It is no wonder that Christ said he would come as a King of his kingdom and in a sense was the inventor of the fairytale image we have of a prince who loves and accepts the forbidden bride in spite of the law, and takes her with promise to one day be her King. However, he also chided the Pharasees and Saducees, for focusing on the writ of the law, rather than the giver of the law.  It is a great tendency of mankind to prefer that they appear to be lovers of God, more than they actually are lovers of God.  For now at least, I was delighted to see that this story of a kingdom awaiting the day it will actually be led by a king, is a love story, that it is possible, not a fairy tale.  I needed a new vision, and a hope that the dream of a prince who loved his princess, who gave himself to her in marriage making her the focus of his love, so much so that he could change the shape of the kingdom to do it, and a promise of his being an adoring king when the day comes, a vision that it could be real, not just a fairytale.

This marriage is a marriage between two people. No two people could ever live up to being the image of the Love of Christ the King and his church, but for one day, it was a beautiful parallel, especially, when they emerged and the sun shone upon them, as if God were smiling, as if in answer to prayers.  I felt the love of God in someone there. I felt a communion of the Holy Spirit in someone there, with the spirit in me. Scripture says we can know them.
Lest we forget, London is the place from which ships from all over the world converged to carry many of our ancestors to a place called America, people seeking freedom from a perversion of our faith in places of persecution. London was a place where a journey to freedom began. Our King James version of the scripture, used for all these years, and beloved to any who had never had a version of the scripture before came from England. People who wanted freedom from the noose "the church" in other countries had placed about their necks, sought a new place to build churches that focused on serving a living savoir, and a coming King. So they boarded ships supported by the King of England, often hoping to spread the gospel and establish colonies built on Bible principles.  Although, the US found a need to separate themselves from the rule of England, it was and is England, which most closely preserves the Christian reference to a kingdom awaiting a beloved King.
I could go on and on about the things my heart saw in the parallel. One most significant however, was that William seems determined to defend his bride against whatever would deliberately or inadvertantly destroy her. With the love of his mother, still alive and directing him, he is taking an active and deliberate role in being his new love's protector.  At one point he so tried to protect her from what he knew would hurt her, that to her it seemed he had turned his back on her.  By staying away from her in public, he drew the onslaught of cameras and criticism toward himself.  He scarcely spoke to her, and it hurt her, and she misread his inattention, as a desertion of her. As the world called her "Waitie Katie" and her heart remained true to him inspite of their stabs at her, she finally yeilded and turned to her own way. She sought to make a life without him, fairly sure that her dream that her prince would take her to be his future Queen was over.  It must have felt to her as if all hope of his love was lost.
I am sorry, but it is true. I believe with all my heart that Christ is using this pair to bring an awareness to, and renew a longing in His bride, for the return of their King who will come to take his bride to the honeymoon, and then return to take his place as King. The honeymoon for the Church has long been over for the church, and Christians have waited a long time for Christ to become our King on this earth. I hope there are a number of years before Will has to take the responsiblity of the World on his shoulders. I hope their family may grow, adding greatly to the parallel of how the Marriage of Christ and His church have taken this time, while we wait for the coming of His Kingdom, to grow into the whole world.
Scripture says that Christ will return as our King when the word is heard in all the world. Yesterday, and in the ensuing days, has to be a time when the whole world had an opportunity to hear the Word of God, to hear a testiment to Jesus as Christ to the World, as God being in the form of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and a part of how change can come in the hearts of men. I almost wish Diana could know that she made a difference however small it will actually be, by affecting the heart of her son so deeply, that she gave him courage to see the world in a different way, and love a girl who was not of royal blood, just like Christ when he chose his Church.

Lord, I pray for this young future King and his bride, because no matter how much we love democracy, we need good leaders in this world. We need someone who will cling to the Christian faith as its foundation, whether we agree on how it's done, or not. Our nation no longer makes its greatest days ones which name you as our Christ.  England did something yesterday that we in our Democracy have ceased to do.  And for that I say, God bless the Queen! and God bless her someday King, if You don't come as King yourself first. Please, may it always be in William's heart to let the whole world see that the real King of our world is Jesus Christ our Lord! Amen

The All Powerful

When I started to write my blog this morning, I fell into writing from my emotions, all spilling out from yesterday. It doesn't take a storm so epic to leave emptiness in its wake. But something epic leaves me in an incredulous state about its power. There is absolutely nothing we can do about any of the powerful things that can reshape our planet, tsunami's, hurricanes, fires, tornadoes, lightning, volcanoes, earthquakes... So why is it, that anytime such things occur, believing people begin to pray, unless they believe there is some spiritual element even more powerful. It would be easy for anyone whose house is blown away in an instant, to say, "How can a loving powerful God allow such things." Even more so if someone you love is taken.  I have been in situations that I just had to face God and say, "If you won't protect me then where do I turn?"  After particularly long times of struggle and pain in my life, I am actually glad that God doesn't mind that I cry out, "Lord, will this ever be over!?" Before it was over, I was really ready for yesterday to be over. I wanted it to just stop, as everyone across the south did.  But I couldn't draw myself away from the images of the power of a tower of spiraling wind.

 On our hawk watch, our group of friends who love to watch the raptors of every kind migrate, and are comforted that the patterns of their leaving the north in the fall, and returning from the south in the spring offer a sense of things being right in the world. Like the seasons, birds and butterflies of all kinds make the incredibly long trek. We sit and watch the skies on our hawk watch, sometimes for hours just to be able to count them, and have a bit of data that records the process and is comparable to other years. With this data, we can draw a few conclusions about when to expect certain species to be passing by our little mountain perch. There are other things that are recorded, and we can conclude from what we have seen, and we have a saying, that hawks in general, don't like to get up early to begin their migration flight. Actually, they use the early hours sometimes to find sustenence. But sometimes, they simply wait for the wind.

The truth is, that the invisible spiraling winds don't begin to rise into the immense sky until the sun has begun to warm the earth.  Warm air rises, and as it rises, it begins to make a magic elevator on which the migrating birds can be lifted to great heights, way beyond the sight of our binoculars on the warmer clearer days.  Some days the winds are not so gentle and the speed with which birds rise into the swirling thermal of air, and fly off the top is amazing. Within a few minutes a flock of hundreds can traverse the whole of the sky and be gone.
This form of spiraling wind is called "thermals." On days when the air is still, and heavy with dampness, and clouds hamper the sun's ability to form the rising columns, we watch the birds flapping and rising a hundred feet into a partially formed thermal, only to have the uplifting wind stall beneath their wings, and they literally work their way toward anything that indicates where a new thermal may be. For in the thermals, the hawks don't have to use their wings to fly by flapping them.  They spread them and allow the wind to lift them effortlessly. No doubt there are muscles at work to keep them ruddered into the wind, but far less energy is used to fly than if they have to flap the whole way. In fact, I am sure they were DESIGNED to make use of the wind, in order to be able to go the distance.

Perhaps it isn't difficult to see where I am going with this. The same wind that makes thermals, is the same wind that makes tornadoes.  Although it is pushed along by the energy in the storm, and far too intense to allow a bird to be safely transported, the winds draw in and lift the things in their path.  And as I saw with my own eyes yesterday, you may not see or hear a tornado until it begins to fill with debris or dirt, or something that makes it visible.

Jesus compared faith to these powerful elements of the natural workings of our earth. Believing in God is like believing in wind. We can't see it. But we know it is there when we feel it or see it's mighty power. Sometimes, I need the power of faith that is more like the gentle rising spiraling thermal to uplift me and extend my strength for the journey. To raise me to the heights where I can see the next thermal, or fly off the top and sail for miles effortlessly on the wind beneath my wings, (to borrow a phrase) until I need to find another thermal. Sometimes, I fly alone, but sometimes I find myself amidst hundreds like myself who seek the power of the thermal to lift them as well. With hawks we call the mass of birds swirling around and around on the invisible vortex of wind a kettle, because they look like things being stirred about in a pot of water that has been stirred "til the water has formed a vortex. They look like they are in a kettle. When the birds gather, we call it "kettling." And no matter how many birds I have seen in a kettle, I have never seen the wind that was lifting them run out of the power to lift them.

It is the uniqueness of the thermal that gives the birds the height and renewal they need. Wind that rises, or simply gets higher as it goes over a mountain for instance, doesn't necessarily give the lift the birds are looking for. In fact, turbulences that zap their energy may be the consequence of riding into the winds coming over a ridge. We have seen hawks drop several feet sometimes when they encounter a loss of their wind advantage. It is in fact that the wind spirals when warmed by the sun (Son) that lift is acheived. Anything that blocks the movement of that wind, breaks it up, and hampers it's usefulness. So hawks seek thermals and  enter near the bottom of the vortex. They ride the wind around and around and up until they reach the top, for however long it takes to reach the top, before they "peel off," with wings outspread, riding on air.

In other words, Jesus would teach us that in order for our faith to be renewed we have to stay a while in the place of power, and renewal until we have reached the height spiritually that we are able to head in our intended direction, far above the mountain tops. And in that vortex of spiritual wind, we rise rested, and able to see far along the path to which we are destined to go. The point would be to seek the rising power of the wind. And ride it. The wind is likened to the Holy Spirit in scripture. By seeking him and staying with him for a while, all the way to the top of the thermal, we get the power we need to go on.

So yesterday, I wondered, what spiritual significance a tornado could possibly have in helping me understand the Holy Spirit's work in my life. I didn't have to think about it long as I watched it take whole towns to a place where they will have to start over. Sometimes I need the incredible, super powerful, able to move huge things, kind of power from the Holy Spirit. I think we forget just how powerful, our God is to be able to remove massive amounts of everything in our lives, not for our detriment, but for us to have a place of renewal. A Clean Slate on which to rebuild and start over. When the perils of life destroy our dreams, take away our vision of who we are and what we have in this world, there is God, powerful enough to wipe every bit of what we were depending on, resting our futures on, off the map. Powerful enough to make us focus on Him. To see His power. To feel His power, and in the old Testament verbage, to fear His awesome power. It is the same thing, a tornado and a thermal. They both are the made of the same thing, wind. They both have the same invisible power to lift to heights that which they are meant to lift. One seems to be for good, and one seems to be for evil. But every time I saw people who emerged from that destructive power and their mind was on God, praising Him for saving them from the storm, I was made aware that we really do know who has the power to lift us from the rubble, to help us start when all we have is a clean slate. We know who is more powerful. Nothing of the old exists, only God and our future.

Today, I thank God that just as nothing can stand in the way of storms like those yesterday, there is nothing that can stand in the way of a God who is big enough to lift us up to new heights out of the nothingness they left behind. Let us be comforted that the seasons of life, steady and full of newness come between the storms. Let us find the gentle Spirit and abide in him for a while, til we reach new heights where we can fly without struggling against the wind, but rather gliding, soaring on top of it. Lord lift us up, from the sadness and devastation, and help us to repeat to ourselves, "My God is more powerful than the most powerful Storms." Lord make our faith just as strong as any tornado the face of this earth has ever seen, because it is you who dwells in us to give us that power beyond anything we can imagine. Just when we can't imagine, help us use that image of a powerful tornado to give us strength to believe. Let us not forget. Lord be there for these people needing you, anyone needing you, in a powerful way, a more powerful way than that which has caused turbulence and devastation in their lives, (and for me as well). AMEN

His Is Risen: He is not Here

And very early in the morning the first day of the week, they came unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun. And they said among themselves, who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulchre? And when they looked, they saw that the stone was rolled away: for it was very great. And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed in a long white garment; and they were affrighted. And he saith unto them, Be not affrighted: Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, which was crucified: HE IS RISEN; HE IS NOT HERE.

Mark 6:16

Have a Blessed Easter!

The Gospel in a Nutshell

When the Holy Spirit began to tug at my heart to find out about Jesus' role in my eternal future, I was about 8 or 9 years old.  I don't know if I was more curious than some or was just displaying my analytic side that young, but I dissected every little detail about "getting saved."  It took me months, maybe a year, to "understand" how to be saved.  First of all, no one said as Jesus did: "You must be born again." My pastor, Sunday School teacher, and the preachers Mom listened to on the radio, all used the "saved" word.  As I have said on here before. "Saved from what?" I know the answer is Sin, and I knew it then. And I told My Heavenly Father that I did everything I knew how to not sin. It hurt my feelings terribly when he showed me that I couldn't avoid being a sinner. See, I thought like everyone else to be saved from sin meant you stopped doing sin.
Why if I couldn't stop on my own didn't God just help me stop and get it over with? He was my best friend after all. I was not stopping Him, and in fact I really did want to be saved from Sin. So why doesn't he just save me from my sin?
       I would pray about something and God would patiently answer my prayer. I never felt so close to Him, afraid of Him, confused by Him, and down right hurt by Him.  As I have also said before, I felt rejected by Him. Yet, He wouldn't give up on me. Dense as I was, I just couldn't get it that being saved was not an "understanding it" thing.  NOT an in my head, figure it out and start doing the right thing somehow, kind of thing. Problem was, I had gotten past the age when I just trusted God.  You know  - with the childlike faith.  I was old enough to have lost that. Now, I wanted more from God. I thought that it would be wise to understand things before I act on them. 
     Solomon was wise they say. I read all the scriptures about how to be wise I could. Some of them didn't make any sense, but I tried to understand them so I could please God.  I prayed for wisdom, just like Solomon.  It seemed to me that this would do the trick.  That was what the Holy Spirit wanted, for me to seek wisdom, I thought. I was old enough now that I knew the little voice was the Holy Spirit, and I suddenly realized that I didn't hear it speaking any more.  I heard preachers, and teachers, and my Bible, all saying I had to get saved, but the Spirit was quiet. Did I get too big to hear Him too?  I wanted an answer on how to get saved.  But no answer. There was nothing in all those verses about being wise that answered my question either.
         I had already found the verse that said, Ask and it shall be given you.  But guess what that verse goes on to say. It says: Seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you. Luke 11:9-13 goes on to say that the Heavenly Father gives good gifts, and what he gives is the Holy Spirit. Ok, I thought I already had the Holy Spirit. That voice, wasn't it he Holy Spirit? But I asked over and over again anyway..Lord, Please help me understand why I am not saved. I am asking you to help me be saved. Ok. I asked. Why am I not saved? I am knocking on your door begging you to save me... Well, it was a lot of years ago and I don't exactly remember what I said. But I do remember the exhaustion of trying to figure it out. I was seeking. I kept on seeking. Looking in every verse I could find. When will the seeking be over????

What I have to say about all those months of trying to figure it out is - they were the best months I ever spent in my whole life!  They are my Treasure chest.  Oh, I put my children, their mates, grandchildren and my husband in the best gifts other than my "Salvation" category. But nothing comes close in the treasure category to how the Lord led me to my new birth into his eternal family.
He gently led me to the scriptures one by one that answered my questions. And when the answers didn't make sense, he remained silent and gave me more of His Word. Little by little, I discovered that wisdom had nothing to do with everything poor Solomon tried to DO to be wise. That is why he had so many admonitions about wisdom. Because he was seeking too.

A youth director in my teen years called John 3, Ephesian 2:8&9, and Luke 11:9-13 "The Gospel in a Nutshell."  I don't know who originally coined the phrase, but I loved it when I heard it. These were the verses that finally led me to really being "saved."  You know, Jesus didn't say you must be "saved". He said. "You must be born again." I got over being mad at My Heavenly Father for saying I should believe in Jesus dying on the cross if I wanted to be in His family when I found this verse.  Thank you God for the word "again." God was asking me to be born into His family, and understand that it was happening to me. It was not that believing in Him was not enough like I was beginning to think. I had said to Him. "But God I already believe in you. Why am I not already saved? " After all the verse said: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." Acts 16:31. I believed the story, the cross and resurrection, all that. "Why am I not saved?" The real wisdom in all of my questioning was: the one thing I really did understand was that - I wasn't "saved" yet.

My friend went down to the altar at church, and the preacher was so proud of her and said she got saved, and they wrote down her name and address and everyone shook her hand. And I thought, I hope she got saved at home, cause going down there didn't get her saved. But I asked her anyway, what they told her that helped her get saved.  She said that they didn't say anything. She just prayed in her heart that God would help her do the right thing. So she went down to the altar. Oh NO. I knew that wouldn't do it for me. But I wondered every Sunday if I should go down there and try it out. Thankfully, I didn't go, until later when I knew I was "born again." By the way, my friend went back down to the altar next Sunday because she thought she might better get saved again. She was still seeking too. It didn't do it for her either.

     I was saved, gloriously saved, when one night after I finally understood that what God wanted was a deeper relationship with me. We weren't going to remain just best friends, and I wouldn't just call Him God my Heavenly Father because I had been raised hearing that he was my Heavenly Father. I finally understood that He always wanted to be my Heavenly Father, but it would be my decision to ask Him. And in so doing, I was asking to be born into His family. God would not force it on me. I had to want that and ask. (Tears of Joy, Tears of Joy, Tears of Joy.!!!!) Oh the sweet memory of that moment, one night in bed when I said, "Lord all I understand is that I want more than anything to be your child and be saved from my sins. I want your gift. I don't want to work on finding it anymore. Please save me. Please. ( or something like that). The still small voice seemed to whisper my name, and I could imagine a gift box, shiny and golden, almost glowing. It was coming toward me. He whispered take it. I took it and brought it so close that it disappeared into my heart. And the verses came back, "It is a gift of God." He had given me my gift almost visually, so I would never forget. I knew it meant that I was reborn into His family, now forever to be His child. Not just in name, but by his blood. I was his blood child. The gift was New Life. A fresh start. And all the things that I would later understand that meant. But that night, I didn't need to understand anything more than that it was so easy to just let God make you His child forever. You just needed to want to be His child and ask. In the morning I awoke to a new understanding, God had given me the gift of Salvation. The one big difference was His Spirit was in that box I took into my heart. The real gift of God is Himself. In order to be born into His family, I finally understood, that He would come into my heart, dwell with my being, become one with me, and never leave. His Spirit does not come and go, it is in me. Sometimes when He is quiet, I remind myself, He isn't out there in Heaven somewhere. He is here, inside me. If you don't believe that, check it out in your concordance. It's there. Go Seeking:)

"That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is Spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye Must Be Born Again."  St.Jn. 3:6-7.

"Love you, Love YOU, LOVE YOU, Jesus for making that possible for me. I am praying someone I know will receive the Gift of your spirit, and birth into the eternal family today." AMEN

Tears Of Joy

When I was young, any time I thought about what the Savoir did for us on the cross, I would cry tears of pure joy.  I was genuinely sad that he suffered so much and sometimes, it was tears of sorrow for his pain.  Although it was over and done so many years ago, His dying on the cross touched my heart, and I so loved Him for it, that tears just welled up from the intensity of the feeling.  In those days, I loved those moments.  These were times, when actually feeling that intensity to the point of releasing it in tears, signified something wonderful happening in my soul.  Crying made me happy.  I always thought it was something God made to make me feel complete. Joy that brought tears was a wonderful mechanism, God given, that lifted my senses to great heights.

 Sometimes, in church, Pastor Hudson at Northside would say things that "blessed my heart." He used that phrase a lot. And I would have tears running down my face. It felt so good. I thought other people understood the joy and maybe felt it too. At home, when for years we had listened to Dr. Hudson on the radio, I had freedom to cry whenever I felt like it and never was concerned about it.  I felt free to be myself. I felt no need to change when I was able to attend the service. I would feel that we were kindred spirits, we agreed in our hearts as if the Spirit of God had shared the same exact thing with both of us. He understood how I felt. God understood how we felt. How cool was that?

I have since heard people call someone who cried easily, "tender-hearted." To me, that should be a sweet sentiment. It would indicate that one's heart was easily touched by the good and bad in life and a tender-hearted person would be sensitive to the needs and feelings of those around them. But it is used as a derogatory statement. However, for me, it has always been a call to prayer.  It was being a part of the "Pray without ceasing team." > notice someone is hurting, send up prayer believing, smile that God hears and answers prayer, go on with my day.<  An element of my Faith.

A preacher who once explained to me that my personality was one of "melancholy" went on to explain that it was a part of me that God wanted to fix. LOL So why did God make me a melancholy personality and then want to fix it? If He made me that way, then there was something good about it. What is wrong with me if I see a sunset, or the color of the sky, or a Bald Eagle flying, or the amazing colors of a bird, or the sweet smile of a baby and get so excited that I want to cry and sometimes do. I am only saying to the world: "Look how blessed I am!!! Does something this beautiful not make you want to rejoice?"

This morning I asked the Lord what he would have me say about Easter. When I sat down to reflect on my Savoir's great gift, I felt nothing. I am in that state right now anyway, because of Mother's death, and I am in general OK with it, unless my feelings come rushing back in and take over one day. I would rather not hurt. But I am not stuffing them, just numb and aware of it.  And healing. But, the thought crossed my mind, of how much I missed just thinking of my Savoir and being filled with joy to overflowing...the kind of joy that "blessed my heart" to tears. I remember the release, the pride, the acceptence, the security which being in that emotion brought... and I miss it terribly.

In the world of Grown-ups there is such an admonition to be "tough" that it is an extreme world. Why they even call it extreme, in sports. To make it through most days, toughness is all that will get you through, or so we are led to believe. I remember some hard days as a child, that once I had cried, going on with my day was a sinch. You skinned your knee...cried...acknowleged that it hurt like nothing you ever felt before...got up...and chanced doing it all over again, only wiser. DONE. What an easy life! But it got complicated as I got older.
When I was in Dr. Hudson's church, if I looked around, others were also crying. Even Dr. Hudson would frequently cry during his own messages. Ty Pennington and his crew come to mind. They seem to realize that the really good things in life leave you free to cry sometimes. But later when I was out on my own as a wife and parent, I discovered, my husband hated when I cried. He misread my tears for needing attention and lacking gumption. Besides, in any marriage tears often portray that you're hurt. So it became hard for him to tell the difference. Preacher's would sometimes come to me and tell me I needed to be in an altar when I cried. They misread my tears for guilt. And I learned really quickly not to show my feelings at work, or around female friends. They misread my tears for wanting pity. I saw my husband insist that my children not cry, even when he disciplined them. Tears were for sissies, he would say.
In fact, I found that most of the time, people misread us about other emotions as well. When I am quiet they think I am mad. When I cry they think I am weak.  When I am angry, they say I've lost my faith. WRONG. In short, most of my adult life, people had expectations of how I should act and react in every situation of life that was basically a lie as to who and what I actually am. I believe I do this to other people as well.

When Jesus saved me, and the Holy Spirit of God came into my heart, I was changed. Unless you've been there, it is difficult to explain the ease with which that happens. God transforms you, altars your thinking, and lifts your spirit to a newness. Things that felt broken inside become like new.  Fears flee. Inner strength and peace fill the void. That was a change I embraced. But changing as an adult to please people put me back to a place of feeling broken inside again.  Like I had become someone else. Like the cross was of no value.

One of the reasons my Savoir died the way he died, is because He too was misunderstood. People and devils wanted him to be something other than the Son of God. Think about it. Why do other people always want to change us? Why would anyone want Him to be anything but the Son of God? It is what we do to one another. And the cross was meant to kill that attitude.  What does that mean? It means that in the cross we are free, resurrected to be who God made us to be. Reborn as His child, not just made a human, but made a member of a Spiritual family. With value. Therefore, what I want this Easter is to refocus on the cross, the symbol of one who loved me enough to send a message that He wanted me just as I am. Total acceptance. I want God to renew my tender heart. To bring Joy back into my life, the way it was when I was a child.

(I don't think every child who cries does it from a tender heart or that it will benefit them. Whiney is significant of a child who does not cry a little and get on with life. There is a need somewhere. Also as an adult, feeling like crying all the time is not healthy. Generally, for me and for kids, it may mean a need for Food.  Low blood sugar attacks that make us cry and feel grumpy are not what I am talking about when I say spontaneous "tears of Joy.")

"Lord,
What I want for Easter is the "smiling so big that the tears falling down my face are rollin' into my mouth, and I can taste the salt" kind of "Bless Your Heart" happiness, that just seeing a cross used to bring to me. The "knowing you loved me THAT much" kind of Joy, which makes me feel like I'll explode if I can't show how happy I am. Some people shout, I cry. Thank you for that & Thank you for loving me soooo much."

Sometimes I forget to spend joyful time with God

Rejoice in the Lord, always, and again I say, Rejoice. Phillipians 4:4

(Thank you Dr Hudson for searing this verse into our brains. Wish you were still there reminding us. Purhaps I should pay it forward. But from you it never seemed trite or repetitive. Every time I heard your voice, I remebered the Joy of the Lord.) 

Our Lord said that the faith of a child could work miracles. (paraphrased) I remember the days that, when as a child I spoke often to God and it was about happy things. "God you made this so beautiful." or "Kittens sure are soft." I still notice things that make my heart sing, but I don't thank Him as much. Maybe because it seems old hat, like He's heard that from me before.  But I'll bet that as much as I still love the majesty of His beautiful things, He still loves to hear me say that I love them. Even though He knows my heart. 
My husband is a person who likes to hear, "I Love You," in words not in deed, and I am the opposite.  I like to notice that he loves me in deed not in words.  Not that I want him to stop saying it, but, to me, the two must mesh.  Words seem idle to me, almost like a lie if at the same time something he has done has hurt me. You can't cover up hurt with "I love you."  So I guess I carry that same attitude into prayer.  I won't say, "Lord I love you and the things you have made," if I feel at odds with God.  It seems fake. But it isn't fake.
How many times has my husband said that no matter he still loves me and whether I find it hard to believe or not doesn't change the fact. And he will say he likes to hear it himself, and I am not one to say it often enough.  I miss out on joyful time that just saying "I love you," would bring to our relationship, because it would please him to hear it.  The same would be true of my prayer relationship.  If I would just get back into the habit of saying something like, "I love that you did this," to both, I think it would bring back a childlikeness to my conversations.
It would add balance to the hurting side of things.  I used to teach my Sunday School classes that balance was what God was after. A place in the middle is where God always wants us to be.  This analagy can be analyzed to death, but suffice it to say, that when there is a lot of pain there must also be a lot of joy to offset it.  And that is the side of relationships we always have to work on. 
When I am around my newest grandson, Ryder, I forget most of the pain in the lives around me and in mine. I just enjoy him.  It is that way with new love, especially when you are young, or newly born again into God's family. The joy outweighs the pain in life. It comes down to where we place our focus I guess. And to acheive the proper balance, we cannot become ignorant of the pain, or hide in humor or having fun all the time to block the pain. And somehow, when we come at the suffering and pain, from the joy side, our faith is strengthened I think.  It is easier to believe that miracles can happen, or that when they don't that God is still in the middle of everything and still in control. 

Life is full of the painful, stressful stuff, and I am so glad I have God to turn to be able to ask for help from a more powerful source.  But "Glad" is the word I should focus on, to give balance. I can be glad when I pray about the sad things, because He is a more powerful source.

Lord, I often send up prayers for the people needing your blessing, and I forget to spend a few minutes just sharing my love for you. Please forgive me.
In gladness of heart, I thank you, not just for the beauty in my life, but, even when so much is happening of the sad things in life, I thank you for just being you. And for being there for me. Always being there for me. I thank you, for the joy side of our relationship. I love you Lord for just being who you are.
And for all the hurting people who ask us to pray for them, I add this to my specific prayer for them - Lord, give them Joy amidst their sorrow, and Peace that passes understanding. Lord, help us to rejoice. AMEN

Purhaps, Jesus went to the Garden as a reminder that prayer is a place to rejoice.

Killling me Softly with my own words...or lack of them.

When trauma has ruled my life for any significant time, - days, weeks, months - at a time, I find myself with a heavy heart.  And I wonder, why do I feel so heavy hearted when trauma is something that happens to me, not that I cause. I feel pangs of sadness and for some reason I begin to have dreams and daydreamy like memories of things that caused trauma in days long gone.  My husband hates this about me, 'cause he feels it is me just living in my past.  Yet I learned at a critical crossroads in my life that living in those by gone memories is not something I dream up. It is something God sends me to find my God given freedom.

One of the things Jesus said was, "The truth shall set you free."  And our subconscious is really good about resurrecting  truth, especially the truth that we suppress.  Now since I am not a doctor, suffice it to say that I have watched enough TV, read enough books, and had enough hands on experience with doctors and counselors myself to know people suppress things: thoughts, memories, fears, anything basically that may have caused trauma. (Just ask Dr. Phil, lol.)
Jesus understood this, and part of what he was telling us throughout his teachings, was that salvation was saving us from something.  I am analytical to say the least, and tearing apart the word "Salvation" has been one of the background themes of what goes on in my mind since I was a child and first heard the term. What are we saved from? It was probably one of the first spiritual questions I ever asked, at about age 8 or 9.  I had a bit of a rebellious spirit at that time, and I rejected anything an adult told me as making absolutely no sense. So someone telling me I needed to be saved from something made no sense. Saved from what?  Well, theologically, it is sin. But then my little mind, had to dissect Sin. Even at that age I realized that sin was not as simple as breaking the ten commandments.  As I delved into reading my Bible searching for answers, I began to realize that anything I did that was not within the will of God for my life, was sin.  All the word really meant was that I was not in tune with what God wanted for my life.  I wrestled with how anyone could live minute by minute in the perfect will of God and I became very discouraged that I was totally and completely a sinner. Also, if I died, I would die a sinner, and that was the most frightening thing I had ever known.  I became incredibly afraid of things like lightening. Would God really "strike me dead" as the old saying goes? I lived in terror for months trying to figure out how to remedy this agony, and get saved before something killed me, until the still small voice of the Everloving God said "fear not." I had read this in His Word, and now this voice said "fear not." A quiet voice, the one I had, since age 3, known as "God My Heavenly Father." This voice was the one I loved, that soothed my fears, and never had made me feel discouraged or afraid. Why would he send this guy named Jesus into the world and have him ruin things between me and God My Heavenly Father? Sure, Jesus was his son, but I was his child too. And why now would my Father not let me into heaven just because of Jesus? So now that my Heavenly Father was saying "fear not," I was relieved, because I was beginning to believe he had rejected me for my sin.

Instead of striking me dead, he lovingly led me to salvation, through the verse: "By Grace are ye save through faith,not of yourselves. It is the gift of God, not of works lest any man should boast."  Eph. 2:8&9. He gave me the gift of himself, not just his voice but his Spirit, which indwelt me. No longer a voice only but He stepped into my being, to be a part of me, and take me as a part of Him. A gift, no more trying to be in His perfect will, just free from chasing after trying to be sinless. Once again I could delight in his still small voice, rather than fear it.

Now before someone thinks I am "hearing voices", that make you go off the deep end, it isn't like that.  And I never hear other voices in my head.  Sometimes my own voice in my head drives me a little batty, but this voice always calms, always loves, always smiles. Have you ever heard the smile in someone's voice. This voice said "no, that will hurt you," when I was 3, and "I am here" when the shadows in the night were scarey. I felt like the owner of this voice was always there. Comforting, guiding, loving. And for as long as I can remember I called him, My Heavenly Father. In short, I had always believed in God, and never doubted his existence, at least in part because of this loving companion that I thought everyone knew about. And I always felt like he had friends, which I was delighted to know at some point were my guardian angels.
I never saw or heard them, I just knew that sometimes I felt pulled from harm, or gently pushed along through the fearful things. I also was delighted when while reading the Bible, I read of the "still small voice." I thought, I know about that voice. Now let's digress into one of those memories in my head for a moment -
Once I bit a little girl in Vacation Bible School as a toddler, maybe about age 3. I bit her because I wanted her to feel what it was like when she was biting everyone else.  I had no inclination to bite anyone else, nor had I done it before.  But I thought, she doesn't understand that she hurts people, so I will show her.  Well, I obviously showed her a little too hard, and stood in amazement that the teacher didn't just see that I was only doing it to teach her a lesson.  I was taken to my mother, and they told the story all wrong, and I don't remember how I was punished, I just remember how unfair that I, not the little girl who was biting everyone, was in trouble. No one punished her, and she was in fact rather pleased with herself the next day, but she didn't bite anyone. That was the first time I remember having to go to my Heavenly Father to talk. That was my introduction to prayer. And I found that there would be "millions" more times that I would find myself wondering why the rest of the world didn't understand my actions, and finding out something I had done just didn't fit the ideas the world around me catered to. And that I couldn't fix things by "biting the person who is wounding me and the people around me." She is also the first person in my life that the trauma of the situation made me stuff my feelings because I didn't understand them.  And the first time, God didn't fix things the way I thought he should. In short, it was the first person who I didn't forgive for how her actions in my life left me in a quandry about life. Little girl, whoever you were...I FORGIVE YOU, In the Name of Jesus, I forgive you. I can't remember if I ever have thought of you and actually forgiven you, or not. I do know that this was and is one of the best loved memories of my life, because it is when I actually talked to God instead of just listening to Him. It is when I learned there are consequenses for my actions. And that people will misunderstand your intentions. When I first asked for His help.

And that is what my post is about today. Whatever things or people in my life that I equate with trauma, I have since learned, must be forgiven.  Not only because it is "sin" not to forgive, but because the reason it is "sin", (something outside the way God would have us live,) is that God knows unforgiveness causes us to harm ourselves.  We aren't doing something like breaking the ten commandments kind of sin. Except that we are not keeping the commandment to "love thy neighbor as thyself." We are setting aside the God given right to forgive the people and the situation, and release them and us from that suppressed memory which will inevitably come up in some form later to stare us in the face, haunt us in our dreams, tear apart our relationships, and just plain hurt. That is one of the things God wants us saved from.
I would love for that to have been the life lesson that kept me from ever doing something to mess up my life again. No, no, I still fall into that trap, and find myself reliving the scenario with people, all these years later.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed that the cup might pass from him.  He didn't want to be the victim of people's poor lack of judgement about him. He didn't want them to see him as in the wrong when he was the essence of what is right. He didn't want to take on sin when he knew no sin. To hang on a cross which was highly indicative of being a criminal, a theif or murderer. He was wounded in his heart from the rejection of people he loved long before he felt the stripes of the lash. Jesus was every bit in the middle of one of those situations that we try to "just forget about it." The ones that won't be forgotten no matter how hard we try. Unjust, misunderstood, and misrepresented. Unlike me, who obviously can't lay claim to not deserving what people dish out sometimes. Jesus was not deserving.

But what was the theme on the cross. Jesus spent his dying hours, saying "Father forgive them, for they know what they do."  People aren't God. They can't read our minds or see all the circumstances of our lives.  They don't understand how they hurt us sometimes. Yet sometimes, like the little girl who was so smug the next day, they do know. Notice in my story, I didn't find the need to forgive the teacher, although I do, since the Lord brought her up. I had already tried to ignore the fact that I was hurt by her enough to remember the unfairness of it. She needs my forgiveness and I need to forgive her.

The message from God to my heart is that, when I remember the things that caused me pain, and the memory of the person or persons makes my heart ache, it is only in forgiving them that I am set free. If I acknowlege the truth that I am hurting myself by not actively forgiving them but ignore it, I will continue in my pain. And I will lash out at the next person whom I think is misunderstanding me, out of fear that I will have to live through that pain again. Resisting it does not heal. Revealing it does. Pain and fear beget pain and fear. Forgiveness begets forgiveness.

When God says he will forgive as we forgive, it only means that as we release others from the painful memory they caused us, then by God's mercy we are released from the painful memory they caused us. The deeper I go into explaining to myself why someone hurts me, the more reasons I am piling on for why I need to just forgive them.

Lord, gently remind me to be quick to forgive so that I may spend fewer hours later, trying to figure out why I am in so much pain. AMEN  
PS. Lord I also Forgive ME for the times I hurt someone, because in my heart I truly wish I never did. And with this one, I will need a little help. AMEN, & AMEN

Two people I am thankful for in my life

This morning on facebook I noticed a familiar face and chatted with her a while. We have only talked once or twice a year sometimes and I had thought I lost contact with her. But she was persistant and got back in touch with me. I was soooo glad. We don't say anything phenominal when we make contact, we just catch up and are glad when everyone's OK, or pray when they are not. She has been through some tough times and so have I.  And we don't whine to each other, we just know that if we share, the other one will pray.  I am thankful for new media like facebook, so I have another avenue to reach her, because she lives far away. It is refreshing to see her face and just chat a bit.  Her daughter is in the military and her husband is away at work, and like me, she gets lonely sometimes. So touching base sort of breaks the loneliness for a few minutes.

I can't help but think of how nice it is to have quick communications with the Lord as well.  God, my heavenly Father, is always ready for me to just have a little chat with him. To break the loneliness.

Loneliness doesn't have to come from being alone.  I have often been lonely in a crowded room. Loneliness comes from not having someone who shares your interests or can appreciate you for your opinions even if they don't agree.  Often, people who don't agree will make you feel stupid for having an opinion.
Opinions are part of the thinking process. My Grandmother used to want to hear our opinions. Even the littlest of us, she would ask what was our opinion about things, like - who would make a good president. The answer didn't matter. She didn't contest our opinion. What she was doing was bringing value to us. She demonstrated that she valued us. She valued who we were and what we thought.
When we were being unruly she brought us to a place where we were thinking about something else. She helped us see that when we were using our minds to form opinions, we had value. God is like that too.  Prayer is a place of discussion with God. His word is a place that helps us see that when we turn our thinking from unproductive naughtiness to useful formation of ideas, he will support us. He empowers us by valuing us through our talks with him.  It is for that reason that I can say exactly how I feel about any situation to God, and he listens and does not exact reprimand for my having that opinion. I can go to him and never worry about what I say to Him.  God doesn't punish me, even if I lash out at him in frustration.  So I never feel like he has turned me away.
I can not  remember a time when my Grandmother called my name that I didn't turn to see what she was saying. She ususally asked me to come be close by her, so she didn't raise her voice.  I think back and I remember all of the cousins running to know what she had to say to us. Whether, instruction or request for duty or reprimand, she said it in the same tone of voice every time we came near.  I can compare my Grandmother to what I think about God, because my Grandmother is the person who most exemplified God to me. She often spoke of him to me, and she is the person whom I think of who allowed his Spirit to act through her, more than any one else I've known.

I wish I could have been more like her for my children's sakes. And for my grandchildren's sakes.
So today I just pray, thank you Father for these two people in my life. One I have only memories of, and one who is persistent in remaining my friend.  Allow me to learn from them, and reinforce the action when I remember to be more like them.  And thank you that when I come to you, lonely, that you are always there. I love you Lord, AMEN