Spirit to Spirit

I haven't researched it. Didn't go digging through the scriptures to find verses to back up what I'm about to describe, or google phrases to see if others have talked about what I'm about to talk about. If anyone has that kind of information, you're welcome to get it to me. I'll certainly read/listen to it.

But I've experienced something that...just took time before I found the right words to describe it. Spirit to Spirit. I can't imagine forgetting this feeling, but I'm sure as life goes on I might. I might forget the intensity, the strangeness, the completeness of it. I hope this post will remind me one day.

Every night I say the same words to Precious:
"The LORD bless you, and keep you, the LORD make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you and give you peace. May He uphold you with the right hand of His righteousness and lead you in His everlasting love."
I also pray over her, but that small blessing is a staple. It was about 2 months ago though that the blessing was changed to add "and be gracious to you". It seemed important, and I constantly felt as though I were missing something by not saying it. I know it's a spin off from the blessing in the Bible but not quite accurate - I wasn't worried about quoting those verses so much as I was interested in just pulling out what I wanted her to hear each night, and what I wanted to speak over her each and every day.

Two Sundays ago I was in church and something was happening between God and I. The strangest part is that I can hardly tell you exactly "what" was happening, I can only describe it.
The pastor said something... he got up and in between songs in the song service he said something along the lines of "I feel God wants me to tell you that He longs to be gracious to you."
And it just broke me. I wouldn't have been able to tell you why, but instantly, tears were pouring and my body was clenched as though in pain. I broke.
The worship service began again and during it Precious and I made our way to the front to worship there and pray/praise but I could hardly do either one. Intense emotions that I can't even describe had me crying and groaning with an awful guttural sound. I've done it before and try to make sure I'm alone... public places are not the.... most wonderful place for that to happen.
Finally worship was over so I returned to my seat trying to regain my balance when a woman I've seen but don't really know showed up in front of me and handed me a slip of paper that I mentioned previously - 2 Chronicles 20:14-21, 22-30.
Again, just as before with the pastors words I broke. It took forever to read the scriptures as tears poured down my face, sobs shook my shoulders as I tried to be quiet (the rest of the church was watching a video from the mens' recent trip to Haiti).
Yet none of it, not a single tear, or groan, or emotion was hardly anything that I could explain.

I wouldn't have been able to tell you that day why those verses were so important. I wasn't even trying to figure it out at the time. I simply read, and it spoke to Something deep within me and that Something understood what my mind did not.

The only way I've been able to understand it is as this:
The Spirit, spoke to my Spirit.
My body, my tears, my groans were simply the vessel holding the Spirit that was at work and stirring that day.

It was a very intense experience.

I'm not...some great spiritual person. I wish I were, but I know me. I'm just a Christian. (A real one, not one of the fakes or Sunday church-goer - I believe there's more fakes out there than the real thing.) I do stupid things. Say stupid things. Don't do enough things. Do the wrong things. Don't live as though I love my Bible as much as I should. Don't pray as much as I wish I did. I say I love God and often don't live it out because I'm putting myself first.
I'm as regularly stupid and foolish as any other true Christian shouldn't be.
I'm not trying to drag myself down - I'm just being honest.

But God did something in me that day.
He didn't change me - I was impacted yes, but I didn't walk away profoundly different.
He just used me.

So I just wanted to remember this. I want to remember a time in my life when I was foolish and not good enough, but I loved God - and God used me. God spoke into something in me that I wouldn't have realized was a true entity before. But God, in the Holy Spirit, is living inside of me.

All the books in the world wouldn't have convinced me of that as well as that experience did. I never want to forget.
Spirit to Spirit.

Encourage yourself in the LORD.

I'm going to talk about something strange, and personal.

The past month or so has been strange. I'm constantly exhausted, and have a persistent headache that only lets up when I'm able to get a good amount of sleep. But I'm not sleeping well lately because nearly every single night is riddled with nightmares.

Cap that with the fact that I'm working with some unusual people and it's imperative that I be the influence on them and not the other way around. I've been in some unusual situations and odd conversations in the past month an a half that leave me questioning my ability to handle "the world". I long for a safe little cocoon of innocence that doesn't use bad language or talk about inappropriate things.

Cap that with a very obvious absence of Spiritual Inlets - if I can get away with calling it that - a wish to have some kind of church family again. A place where I can go, see the same faces, pray for the same concerns, and listen to someone I respect teach, and to worship with other people that I know.

It's like I'm getting drained and it's harder and harder to fill back up.

But, while you might not relate to the crazy inability to sleep due to odd nightmares, you might relate to the latter feeling. Needs, things, life, all sucking away at your resources and you're not sure where the strength is going to come from for the next battle.

So I want to tell you a story I've been going over and over and over lately. It's only 6 verses, but I'm going to paraphrase it some so hopefully no one skims scriptures...

1 Samuel 30:1-6
David and his men were returning to Ziklag, only to find that their town had been burned, and their wives and children had been taken away by the enemy.
And when the men saw that their wives, sons, and daughters had been taken captive they lifted up their voices as wept until they had no more power to weep.
They wept until they had no more power to weep.
Two of Davids wives were taken, including the much sought after Abigail wife of Nabal.
And David was greatly distressed; for the people spake of stoning him, because the soul of all the people was grieved, every man for his sons and for his daughters: but David encouraged himself in the LORD his God.

David encouraged himself in the LORD his God

Too, too often we wait for someone else to come along and encourage us. We call up friends and family and pastors and deacons and Sunday School teachers saying "help! I need to be encouraged" and while we should encourage one another - we also need to have that ... umph ... within us, the knowledge and power and foundation within us that rises up and speaks to our very soul and says "Soul, I trust in the LORD."
It's not a phone call away. It's a breath. It's just a moment, a whisper away.
So the next time your pastor isn't available for the 3am phone call, or you get bad news and want to talk to your really spiritual friend; encourage yourself in the LORD.

I know how my troubles will end. I don't know when, and I don't know what all will happen, but I know ultimately I'm going to come out of this odd period of adjustment and struggle with a stronger faith and far more practiced at encouraging myself than I ever have been before. I'll be closer to God at the end of this. I'm not even worried about it anymore.
I know I have been bought with a price and I belong to my Redeemer.
I am secure.

Not one sorrow will ever change that.
So quit waiting for other people, and begin speaking your words of faith and courage to your Soul. Speak out. Speak boldly.
Speak TRUTH.
No weapon of the enemy will be able to destroy you. You know how it will end.

God has not given me a spirit of fear.

The Friday before last, in my continued hunt for a car that actually stops on command I arranged to meet a person from craigslist to look at their car. So after I got off work I headed down to the South side of San Antonio to meet up at the South Park Mall. *As a point the further South you go in SA, the worse the neighborhoods get. I typically stay north.*

Once I get there I text to let them know I'm there.

I get a call back saying that a friend of his is bringing the car to me and that the friend is running late. He's going to give his friend my number so that the friend can call me when he's almost there so he can find me.

Ok.

The friend eventually calls and instantly something inside me clenches up and says "This isn't good... get out."
It's irrational, and I'm not a rude, fleeing person by nature at all. I trust people until you've given me a good reason not to. And even then I might still be gullible. I pick up hitch-hikers for cryin' out loud. I don't assume bad things about people.
So I sit there and he finally arrives. He's said things that don't make sense, but unfortunately when I ask pointed questions instead of answering he apologizes that his English isn't very good. He was white, completely white, so I've been calling him "The Russian" in my mind.

The Russian didn't have the car with him. He indicated that it was somewhere else and we had to go to it. He wanted me to get in his car.
The very moment he even started the sentence, his hand still in midmotion to point at his car, my gut screamed at me, "DO NOT DO IT, LEAVE NOW, DON'T GO A STEP FURTHER".
But again, I hate to be the freak who just says "No, I'm calling everything off now, thanks for driving all the way down here - albiet without the car - but I'm going to run home now in case you're a psycho."
So I tell him that I'm going to take my own car and will follow him.

As I get back in my own car, I'm listening to a gut that is literally screaming at me. I've heard my gut talk before, but I can't say that I ever recall it screaming. Listening to my gut screaming at me, GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!!! I hesitated and then finally texted my family a description of the man and the car. I even wrote that this was "In case something happened".

Let me just say that in hindsight if you feel enough danger that you want to send a text describing a person "In case something happens", then it's a situation you should probably get out of. Even if it means you're rude.

We drive about 2 miles down the city streets and ever worsening neighborhoods. He finally pulls in to a car lot. He appears to unlock a gate, but cannot open the gate very much. We boths squeeze our bodies through the small opening.

So now I'm inside a car lot, not able to get out quickly because the gate isn't open. To say I feel trapped is putting it mildly. I'm literally trembling. Shaking with adrenaline (I wasn't shaking with fear, I'll get to that in a moment.) The Russian points at a car in the lot that is impossible to move because it's surrounded by other cars. It's so tightly packed in that you can't even walk around the car. He announces that it is the car and then gets on the phone and begins speaking in another language. While I pretend to look at the car from a distance. He pauses his gibberish conversation long enough to tell me his friend is coming shortly who can move the other cars.

I swallow, it's funny how a person remembers doing the oddest things, but I remember swallowing right then and realizing that I've long since past the easy way to get out of this situation. So I look at him and politely say that I had already arranged to meet someone in 30 minutes (not a lie) and needed to leave and was very sorry but that I could not stay and wait any longer. His face made a crazy look at that moment that I can't even describe. And then I turned my back on him and began the long walk to the fence. My screaming gut was silenced only be the small chant in my head praying he would "let me leave".
The word "let" was ringing in my head. I'd never before felt such a hope for another humans mercy in "letting" me walk away.

I left. I left extremely shaken. It felt like I didn't even breathe until I'd maneuvered the city streets back out to the highway, and that's when I began trembling so hard I could hardly hold the wheel. But not for anything would I pull over.

I went home and tried to forget everything.

I did contact one person and cancel my appt with Andre to look at his car the next day. I officially banned meeting craigslist people. NOT gonna happen again.

Then yesterday Andre contacts me again and really wants to sell me his car. After at least an hour of gut twisting indecision I make a plan. Yes I'll meet him, close to my home, on a road that's close to the library where my brother and his wife would be and in a very busy parking lot next to a gas station on a busy Saturday afternoon.

So I go there and park and wait for him to arrive.

Andre sends me a text asking me to go to a different location.

That's all he did. Any other day I wouldn't have even cared one wit. I would have just driven a few more exits down and parked there. But the next thing I know I'm trembling from head to toe, and I'm trying not to cry. I send Andre a text back saying No and the deal is off I'm going home.

And that was the first moment I realized I had a problem. I drove away from the parking lot as quickly as I could, afraid he would show up before I could get away. I was stopped briefly in the parking lot by my brother and his wife who stopped by on their way home. I would have had people with me this time. The situation was entirely different. But I was still shaking so violently that I thought I was going to be sick. I drove away, and at the first opportunity when I felt "clear" of the place I pulled over to try and gather myself. And I realized I had a problem.

God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and of sound mind.

Yesterdays events let the devil enjoy a victory over me. And I hate that. So, I've arranged to meet Andre again. He's given me even more reason to trust that this situation is nothing like the other and I'm trying again. If for no other reason than I will not allow the devil to keep this victory.

I've got a post on this that's not quite so personal that I'll put up soon, but I wanted to post this humbling description of me because I want to be completely frank about how foolish and stupid I can be sometimes. Because our Christian walk isn't about doing it perfectly and enjoy victory after victory. It's about getting up every single time you fall over and knowing that God is still there. It's about seeing your weaknesses and not accepting them but challenging them by the power of Jesus Christ.

When I become irrationally afraid I know the devil is at work. I believe when I met The Russian I had great reason to follow the Holy Spirits urging (I believe the Holy Spirit lives in my gut quite often). But the second event was just the devil using fear against me. And I'm going to attack it.

Whatever you've got in your life, whatever you see makes you irrational and you see it isn't of God - fight it. Don't condone it, don't tell yourself it's just a part of your past that is still haunting you. Fight. Give God everything you've got, every day.

You'll only be glad you did.

Turn off the lights.

It doesn't happen all that often, but every once in awhile, about 15 minutes after the kids bedtime I'll get a quiet knock on my door.

My niece enters, with teary eyes, and says "I think you need to tell me that verse again."

It's the verse I've told her for nearly 12 years now... "God has not given you a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and of sound mind." Practically every time it comes up it's bedtime. The night has crept in and she realizes how dark her room is - despite the fact that a huge strand of Christmas lights serve as her nightlight.

In the last years, the lecture has almost become script. I repeat the verse, and then tell her that trusting in God is proved most truly in the dark. You say you trust Him, but when the lights are out and you're afraid of the dark, that's when you have to tell your spirit that you do indeed trust in God and you will not be paralyzed by fear. You will not lose sleep with fear. You will not lie wide awake in fear. You will close your eyes and simply TRUST the way you say you do when it's light outside.

And after quoting that mantra so often to her I've wondered how many adults do the same. We allow fears in our lives, even simple ones like fear of the dark, fear of heights, fear of crowds, fear of failure. And when I say we "allow" them, I go so far as to say we build those fears a little home in our lives so they can be comfortable and take up permanent residence. We accept that as humans, we have fears... it's normal, healthy, and while unpleasant and a hindrance to our daily lives - we have every right to be afraid.

"You don't know what I've been through..."
"If you'd lived through what I'd lived through you'd understand..."
"You just don't understand..."
"It's just something that makes me feel better..."
"I NEED to..."
"I just can't do it any other way..."


But that's a lie. It's a comfortable lie because it's hard to turn the lights out and say you aren't afraid, that you really do trust God whether the lights are on or off. That your security, your sense of safety doesn't come from filaments in a glass casing, but from God Himself.

I've said it before and I'll say it again - faith is proactive. It's a inner quality but without the action it's dead according to the Bible. You say you have faith, SHOW me your faith. I don't want the typical religion that reminds you to trust in God but never requires you to give up your security blankets, your night lights, your fears. SHOW me your faith.

I hope you don't think - even for a moment - that I believe turning out the lights and trusting God in the dark is easy right off the bat. I think the very act of turning off the lights is the most difficult thing you can do. It means you've stopped trusting in your ability to take care of yourself, and here - here in the dark - everything is just going to be in Gods hands.

And amazingly enough, when the one who actually HAS given you the spirit of fear realizes that he can't defeat you with your fear you'll probably find that fear dissolves as he moves on to find other ways to hurt you, scar you, prevent you from trusting God.

I give this lecture to my niece on those nights because I don't want her to be chained to fears of any shape. I want her to know that when you're scared to pieces you are not alone and that there is a great big God who loves you more than you can imagine. I want her to live her life unencumbered from those chains that leave her tending to her fears rather than living life exactly as God would have her - filled with power, love, and a perfectly sound mind. A sound mind doesn't picture monsters in the dark. A fearful one does.

I don't know what monsters you imagine in the darkness, but I beg of you, whoever you are, to turn off the lights and beg God to handle it.

I don't make solid statements like this too often but I believe, firmly, that you will never be all that God would have you to be when you allow yourself to cater to your fears. No matter how many victories you enjoy, no matter how wise and spiritual you become, you will never know true liberty until you're willing to sit in the dark and trust God.

You know where your light switch is. When you lie in the dark afraid, tears rolling down your cheeks as imaginary monsters come to attack you - remember what Aunt Net said: "God has not given you a spirit of fear, but of power, love and sound mind."

Turn off the light.
I beg you. Turn off the light.

Holding the stair rail.

If you ever get word of me being severely injured, or perhaps this blog goes strangely silent for a long unexplained period of time; let me tell you what's happened:

I've fallen down the stairs and broke my head.

Now, before you wonder about me, I haven't done it yet, somehow I've always managed to not become incapacitated and always manged to protect my head... but I'm thinking it's only a matter of time.

You see, despite the fact that we do have a light for the stairs, I typically traverse them in the dark. Without fail, I always seem to think I've reached the end of the steps before I've actually reached the end of the stairs. You wouldn't think that you take that last step differently from ever other step, but apparently I do. Because what typically happens is that I immediately plunge face first towards the floor.

My knees are going to eventually give out on me from the number of times I've crash landed on them on the tile floor by the door. It's funny now, but it's never funny in that confused moment when you realize you've crashed down the stairs... again.

But, keeping with the tradition that I learn a lesson from everything, I realized how important it is to not make some decisions in the dark. To make sure of your footing, to hold onto the rail. Because the simple truth of the matter is that when it's dark, you can't see as well. And when you're in a situation like that, letting go of the support, and making new decisions rather than trusting the ones you've made when you could see, is just plain foolish.

But it seems that's when we always make our decisions.

We decide God's not trust worthy when we're sad. We decide our job is not worth it when we have a problem with a co-worker. We decide our friendships aren't worth it when we don't feel appreciated. We decide our marriage isn't worth it when we doubt our spouses commitment.

Rarely do you see someone happy and blessed announce that after some thought they happily decided that God just wasn't the right route for them.
No, it's when they're not getting what they want, or things aren't going as planned. That's when you decide God isn't enough.

But, speaking as a person that's fallen down the stairs enough times to realize how important this is, making decisions in the dark hurts.

No matter what my mind tells me about where that last step is, I need to simply trust the rail and wait until I've truly reached the floor. No matter what my mind tells me.
Because minds tell us funny things sometimes. And we're 100% convinced our minds are right. I say that as someone who's sat with others speaking the truth to me while I informed them that my mind proved God to be cruel.

I think God gave us wonderful minds, minds that creatively can challenge Him, convict Him, and question Him. But I believe at some point in our Christian walk that we have to begin to trust His heart for us more than we trust our minds idea of Him. Trusting His heart isn't always easy in the dark, because your mind sees things that are not quite seen for all that they really are. And when you realize how truly little you can trust your own mind in the darkness, let me tell you, you begin to grip the stair rail pretty tight.

Or you could be far more like me than you'd druther.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to try and make it upstairs. *crosses her fingers*

Didn't your mother teach you not to play with lies?

I want to start off with excellent news. I'm contentedly typing this post from my bedroom on my formerly comatose laptop. Why's that so great? Why, I'm glad you asked, let me just tell you. Two reasons, 1) It was dead, I have no idea why it's working again (for 3 consecutive uses so far) and I can't afford a new one. B) I'm typing this in my room. The only room of the house currently above 59 degrees.

Without my laptop I was chained to the desktop in a room that is ranging about 50 degrees right now I imagine, not counting the windchill factor of the kids running by. It's amazing how fast you can type a post when you know you only have a certain amount of time before you freeze in place. It is unsettling just how many errors made it into those posts because my fingers were becoming frostbitten. :) Nevertheless, for as long as I've got it, I'm so thankful to have Old Trusty back!

Now for the post. Unfortunately after that good news the tone of this post is going to change dramatically for me. It's one of those posts that is difficult to write because it requires just a little more honesty than I'd like to get into. But, I know just from watching search engine trails leading to my blog how necessary posts like this are. I believe the second most searched post is "For every lie there is a truth." Knowledge of how many others face the same problems I face forces me to be honest in ways I'd rather not.

So bear with me, and keep in mind that I'm only human eh?

I want to preface this with how wonderful things are with me and God right now. (Though it seems odd to phrase it that way.) I've never felt so close, so sure, so free and happy in Him in my life.

But recently the devil made an appearance and out of nowhere, he informed me that a friend of mine only likes me for my money. It's a friend that I really haven't had much contact with lately - and I just happen to have recently stopped giving them money.

The accusation was obviously a lie. I know it, I know it, I know it. Down to my very core I know it. But - man I hate having to say "but" there! But instead of just saying it was a lie and moving on, I played with it. I toyed with the idea, overly defending against it, and pushing it around in my head rather than just sending it on it's way.

I think, in a way that perhaps sometimes I want to be a victim. When circumstances can't be explained, when friendships taper off I want to be able to say some reason that it wasn't good anyway. I want to be able to blame something, someone, rather than just accepting that sometimes things change, re-imagine themselves, evolve into something else entirely. It's easier to say God let me down, my friend let me down, my family let me down. It allows me accept broken things, distant things, deterioration and and mediocre relationships/situations. It allows me to not hope for better, not try for change, not believe there not only should be more, but could be more. It's almost comfortable in a miserable kind of way.

It allows you to settle for less.
And I'm done settling.
Done.

So to get past that, I have to simply shove that lie exactly where it belongs and quit playing with it. I have to demand, yes demand better of myself than this. And it's easy to shrug it off and pretend it isn't important but it most definitely is. It's wonderfully important. It's one more way to grow and change. To pursue righteousness and a holy, blameless life. To create lasting, genuine relationship based on trust and truth and love for Christ - as opposed to the flimsy ones subject to lies and insecurity.

I started off this subject telling how wonderful I was finding my walk with God right now, because I want you to know that these things don't just hit you when you're down and struggling. They hit you when you're at your most faithful and most trusting. In my life I know I'm likely to ignore little things like that when I feel like I'm doing well. I tell myself not to nitpick and to simply do my best. But I don't want there to be a time, whether when things are good, or difficult, that I'm not still trying to grow.

So don't listen to those lies. Ever. And don't focus on avoiding those lies either; when the devil steps in with a lie never go on the defense by fighting the lie. Simply speak the truth. I know my friend is my friend and it doesn't have one lick to do with money. The very idea is absurd. I'm so blessed to have a friend like mine, and God brought my friend into my life to teach me about friendship and trust. And whatever it is the devil is lying to you about - you know that voice, it's the dark one that leaves you filled with shame, fear, guilt, doubt, distrust, loneliness - stomp those words into the dirt where they belong and remind yourself of the Truth. God loves you.

Really.

Don't Give Up.

I don't know what part of "His ways aren't our ways, His thoughts aren't our thoughts" (Isaiah 55:8-13) doesn't sink in with us, but... we won't always understand what is happening.

And when that happens, Don't give up.
Don't give up.

Don't. Give. Up.

You won't always understand... accept that. Be willing to fight the good fight, even when you can't see your enemy clearly.
Be willing to endure the race, even when you don't see the end in sight.
Be willing to stand, with hope, even when things seem hopeless.

Be willing to press on with patience. Patiently awaiting the day when Gods plan, His will, finally shines itself through whatever your situation is.

Don't give up.

Guard yourself against the "give up" language.

When Elijah ran into the cave yelling about how he was the only one left, God knew He had people reserved. The fact that Elijah couldn't see them made him want to quit. But don't. (1 Kings 19)

Stand firm, in faith, waiting for Gods plan to manifest itself.

I was thinking on Wednesday night how the "steps of a good man are ordered of the Lord".(Ps 37:23)

We were unusually late for church Wednesday. We're always a little late because of a work schedule but this time different things happened to slow us down. So, 30 minutes after church had started we finally walked in the door. It was a very loud, and very soulful black church. (Our 2nd one to attend, they do a better job of welcoming people than most churches do.) Right outside the door we were listening to the unusual music coming through the walls and considered leaving.

But we carried on walking and went into the service where the song service was slowly coming to a close. I wondered briefly if we had been there at the beginning if we would have stayed through the song service. But we were late - so it wasn't an issue.

There were a lot of preliminaries and while I could describe a lot about the church I just want to mention this one preliminary act.

A gentleman got up, and instructed us to get out our Bibles.
We then repeated after him this "Bible Declaration"

Bible Declaration
This is my Bible, I am what it says I am. I can do what it says I can do. I am a believer and not a doubter. I respect and love the Word of God.

My Bible contains the inspired, immutable, prophetic, and unadulterated Word of God.

The words in my Bible contain seeds to exceedingly great and precious promises that lead to blessings, faith, wisdom, and prosperity.

The Word of God can set the captives free, heal the broken hearted, open blinded eyes, raise the dead, break demonic possession, depression and all types of oppression.

The Word of God is restoring my mind.
The Word of God is restoring marriages.
The Word of God is restoring ministries.
The Word of God is healing diseases.
And because of the Word of God I will never, ever be the same again!

And standing there, joyfully, with all these other believers who know as I do that this book, this God has changed their lives, I was profoundly thankful that I'd been led to that church.
And I grabbed onto the promise that each step I'm taking here - each new church, each new endeavor (as long as I listen and listen hard) is ordered of the Lord.

Even with my long diatribe about the church I went to last Sunday, God was able to use that awful place to work repentance and renewed reverence in me. The steps of a good man are ordered of the Lord.

Even with my many complaints about being bored because I haven't begun working full time yet, God has worked a patience in me and a peace concerning it. The steps of a good man are ordered of the Lord.

We all say we understand that God is not our Christian Santa Claus, yet we still act as though He is. Here's what I want, what I believe I need. Now go fetch it for me God.
The steps of a good man are ordered of the Lord.
Those steps don't always lead you where you expect to go. They don't always lead you where you want to go. But they will always lead you where it is best for you to go.

So don't give up. Whatever it is in your life that doesn't make sense right now, trust God and wait. I cannot tell you the peace I've gained in the middle of troubling circumstances. That is why I speak of joy and unhappiness abiding together in me because I am profoundly troubled and hurt by things going on around me, yet there is still joy. ** I only just now caught that I said I could not tell you it... it truly is joy unspeakable and full of glory**

But God is most glorified when your patience comes in the middle of a trial that would invoke impatience.
Just as He was most glorified when His Son, Jesus Christ, died for love of a people that should have invoked hatred. For while we were yet sinners Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)

So, don't give up. Wait upon the Lord: be of good courage and He shall strengthen thine heart: wait I say, on the Lord. (Ps. 27:14)

Don't give up.

The angry post.

**Disclaimer, I am officially ranting at myself. I will be broad and generalize in some areas because if this hits you too then I am very thankful. If I mention something that you specifically are doing then I assure you I am not trying to hit you, but it's because I'm trying to think of examples and that is one. You can be a perfectly good Christian and do whatever you're doing that I use as an example I'm sure. So please know, this is a rant specifically aimed at myself because I need to hear it and no one else will say it to me. And yes, I am angry.**



STOP.

Just stop with all the petty excuses, stop with all the flowery words and religious mumbo jumbo talk. The blogging world doesn't need to hear it, your co-workers don't need to hear it, your church family doesn't need to hear it. Just stop PLEASE.

Now repent.

Your one and only number one priority is to be a Christian.
It's not to be a good daughter, good wife, good friend, good employee.

You are to be a Christian.

So when you make some stupid thing, more important than chasing after the holiness and righteousness of God - then you are shallow. The world doesn't need any more shallow Christians. The world needs a Christian, YOU, to be spending time in Gods Word, and in PRAYER (not just the prayers you pray while doing your household chores but undivided attention, focused, heart-rendered PRAYER). EVERY SINGLE DAY. And I don't mean 15 minutes a day.

DO YOU GET THAT?

15 minutes a day?

Are you really going to change the world by spending 15 minutes with God a day?

Clean laundry is NOT more important than your time digging into Gods word and praying EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Your kids t-ball game? NOT MORE IMPORTANT. And if your kids t-ball game is going to interfere with that time with God, guess what - T-ball needs to be unenrolled from. Oh, and if that t-ball game keeps you from church then you never should have enrolled in the first place.

MY JOB is not to make sure that my niece and nephew knows their Aunt Net loves them. *And it hurts a little bit just to write that out. MY JOB is to seek GOD with all my HEART, and with all my SOUL, and with all my MIGHT. And I'M NOT DOING THAT.

There are many around me weak and sick because I've made TRASH more important than that purposeful EVERY SINGLE DAY time with God. I'm not tapped into power that I should be tapped into, because I haven't paid the cost, I haven't sought the LORD with all my MIGHT.

I want to be a Christian. But I DO NOT want to be like the Christians I know. Because we are all weak and foolish. We have L O S T what our purpose is as a child of God, and became mediocre respectable clones of what "Good Christian Folk" should look like.

Church is not to be a place where respectable people come to act respectably. Church is where children of God show up to confess their faults to each other, to provoke each other to good works, to pray for one another. And that's why I should never have dared to miss. Because I'm not supposed to have gone for what I can get, but because I have a responsibility to my church family to be there to do those things for them as well.

So when I skipped church because I was SICK. I was insane.

Because that is where the collective power of healing prayer should be the strongest.

I confess, IT'S NOT. But it's HIGH TIME that I started expecting things of the church people. It's high time I showed up sick, and vomiting and walked in expecting these people to have BEEN IN TOUCH WITH GOD during the week so that the prayer of faith can save the sick.

It's time, no, it's PAST TIME I came in to church expecting something, reached out for something and was bitterly and vocally disappointed if I didn't get it, and maybe even refused to leave until I did. But I don't have a single right to complain if I've allowed work, or packing, or painting, or whatever to come between me and MY EVERY DAY TIME WITH GOD.

It's high time I unpacked God from His simple place in everything that I do and said HE MUST HAVE DEVOTED TIME EVERY SINGLE DAY.

And that's all there is to it. Christians are weak, and pathetic compared to what God would have us be. I am weak, and pathetic compared to what God would have me be. And it's all because I've let other things be and s t a y more important. DEAR GOD I'M SORRY!

What have I done? How dare I have spent all this time blogging... over a 1000 posts, talking about God but, too busy blogging to give Him REAL time so that He can work in me what HE WILLS. Oh GOD be merciful to me a foolish child!

The problem, I so often tell myself, is that I just don't have enough time, or that I'm tired. And the absolute truth of the matter is that whatever else I did that day, whether it's dishes, laundry, family time, or even volunteer work was allowed to be more important than God to me. I can excuse it away, I can say it's not so, but that's simply not true. And so whatever I'm doing that's keeping me from that time needs to be cut out from me.

And here's the clincher - I probably don't want to let it go.

That's why it's been there for God knows how long preventing me from spending GOOD SOLID AMOUNTS OF TIME in Gods word, and in earnest prayer each day.

Which, with this revelation, leaves me at an impasse: Do I let it go? Or do I put God second?

And if I put God second to whatever it is, that tells me I have made it an idol in my heart. And God is clearly a jealous God who covets every last bit of me. And for the record, carrying on and not changing IS a choice in itself. And a slap directly into the face of God. It's SIN.

............

The problem isn't that I fill my time with sins. I can fill it with so many good works. But God wants me to seek Him, seek Him FIRST and FOREMOST, and then He will add things to me that I might be working to add to myself right now (to the exclusion of God).

Christianity has to be the simplest thing in the world.

Love God, seek God FIRST.

It's only complicated because to put God first, whatever is first now has to move. And that's a struggle of the highest degree.

God help me die. Please God help me die to myself. I don't want to be a halfway Christian. I don't want to live a life for myself with You simply a part of it rather than the whole of it. Because that's what I'm doing now. And it shouldn't be that way. I can sing the song about You burning away sin and dross, but when I do I'm always talking about sin. Dross is defined as "waste, base, inferior" and that's what everything is compared to You.
Yet I spend more time reading blogs than Your word. I spent more time checking and responding to e-mails than praying. I spend entire weekends deeply focused on my niece and nephew, yet You gets 2.5hrs Sunday morning and 1hr Sunday night and the random worship evening in my home. I'm sorry God. So sorry. This life, I get that it needs to be all consuming. But also, when You consume it I won't have lost everything. Everything would be consumed right along with me. I wouldn't lose. I would only win. But, dying is hard to do that's why I need help.

I want more of You Lord, You must increase and I must decrease.

Please God, HELP!

Seeing what God is doing...

Last night, I'd been reading in the book of John where Jesus talks about how He only does what He sees the Father doing. So tonight, after a terrific time of worship and praise, I moved into a song that suddenly turned the tide with the lyrics "Now I can go into the Holy of Holies and make my petitions known."

I took the song as movement, and began to bring my petitions to God. My petition was that I would be able to see what the Father is doing, thus I could walk in His ways and pray His works. In other words, if Jesus healed people, by doing what He saw God doing - then I want to see what God is doing, so I can speak healing to the right people at the right time, because that's what God is doing at that moment.

Now.... making what could be a very long story, very short... a little while later here is what I've seen.

Not to belittle anything that God has done, it's just not much and I don't understand it.

I know a family whose son just went through surgery for things pertaining to his back. I know the son is currently home again, and spending most of his time in bed.

Add into that, tonight after asking God to show me what He's doing, I saw someone that I knew was a representation of God, and He was standing over the bed of the young man, and He rolled him over on his right side then reached over and put His fist into the boys back.

I don't understand, and I don't know if it's possible to make sense of it. But if anyone has a gift for such a thing... feel free to comment.

As a side note to this specific situation, I'd spent awhile at the hospital Friday night just praying for the young man, and the scripture that kept coming to mind was Ephesians 3:20

"Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us,"

Then what do you know, on Sunday a woman in church stands up saying she's got a scripture she feels led to share. Sure enough, she reads Ephesians 3:20
"Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us,"

But I want you to see verse 21, just because God deserves to have the 2nd half to that.

20Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us,
21Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.

The wings of a whisper.

Music is wonderful.
If you have never sung a prayer, you really should try it. Even if you don't feel you sing well, sing a prayer. It's a song you write yourself, doesn't have to rhyme, or have a catchy tune to it.
And it's just a wonderful moment.

For several minutes tonight I simply sang the words "I need" over and over and over. It slowly evolved until there I was singing how I 'needed' His touch, His presence, His favor, His mercy, His knowledge, and on the list went.

An hour later, I simply had to keep playing (the piano - for those that don't know me) and I could just close my eyes and enjoy the sweet Spirit.

And all this happened from the confines of my living room. The very room that just one week ago I would have said it was impossible to find rest in.

During this past month, I'd been having a recurring nightmare. I won't piece together all of it for you, but at the end, just before waking up I would desperately be trying to say the name of Jesus. Only, using all my strength, I was still barely croaking out a whisper. Panic would set in because I knew I needed to say the name, but I simply couldn't - no matter how hard I tried - get it to sound off any louder.

I've got a lot of thoughts I've taken away from this past month. A lot. But the one that really stands out to me tonight is my whisper. Even whispering the name of Jesus is strong enough. I kept trying to do something more spiritual, something big enough to get Gods attention and scare the devil. In my dreams, the fear always set in because I couldn't yell loud enough, strong enough, to make a difference. But God can hear me whisper.

That's not to say me and my whispering changed my situation here, because relief didn't come until someone else came in and claimed it. Or maybe it was those whispers that had God send those people into the situation. Either way, He heard my whispers.

There are a lot of prayers I've failed to pray. Every now and then a large need will come to my attention and I'll mark it off to pray later when I've got some time to devote to it - even if it's just a few minutes. In the middle of answering phones, or greeting customers, that's not the time to pray for something as important as a baby that might not make it through the day. But I dismiss that moment that I have available to do all that I can. I miss that moment to whisper a prayer.

A couple of weeks back, I worked several hours at something that a man with a backhoe would do in less than an hour. And I still certainly didn't accomplish as much as him. I still did it, stubbornly misquoting a verse about not despising small things and yet I haven't treated something as important as my prayers the same way.

I felt convicted tonight as I told my Father of need after need after need that I have not of things, but of Him. I need. I need Him. I want Him to be in every breath, every thought, every single fiber of my being. But to get to that part, I need to give Him every breath, every thought, and every fiber of my being including my whispers. When I say I want Him in my life... life sounds awfully BIG. So I mentally assume I'll give Him the big things in my life. But it's asking His presence in the small things in your life that is the most challenging. Because it's so easy to discount the giving of those things.

God, help me remember to whisper.

Excuse my laundry.

I've found myself down memory lane for some reason this evening
and I'm going to write. Maybe one day this post will find it's way into my
memoirs. But my memoirs won't be about my house or demons. They'll be about God.
And that is what this post is really about.

A lot of my memories of growing up are blank. I just don't remember much. But of what is stored in my memory there is one week ranked as the most physically violent, and horrific week that we as a family endured. I think it all started when my dad discovered that a dog had wet on the seat of his 4-wheeler. I could be confusing events, but it seems like that was the start. What a pathetic start to a fight.

By the time the main ruckus was over, my mom had decided she was leaving. It was late. I don't know how late, but quite late. We drove to the nearest town and woke up an old pastor friend of my dads. I don't even remember why specifically we went to him. I just remember his office, my brother being upset, my mom trying to be strong, and the fact that my body would sometimes jerk and I couldn't make it stop. I remember the pastor telling me that it was shock and taking me by the arms and praying for me to be able to calm down.

I remember him promising to do the only thing that might possibly help. Only he never did it.

For reasons that, even as an adult, I don't understand, we returned home that night. And spent a week living in the home with my dad, packing, while mom looked for a job.
She didn't find a job and decided that was Gods direction to stay. So we did.

I always wanted to ask that pastor though, why he didn't do what he said he would. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. Maybe it would have.

From that point, I had a definite aversion to pastors. My dad was a pastor, and between him, his friend that night, and several other pastors I've seen, I've understood all too well that what is said, is not necessarily what is lived. Their church life to me was simply an act.

I understand that pastors are still human. And try not to place them into a sinless role that no one can live up to. But at the same time, I firmly believe, that before you stick the word Pastor, Shepherd, Leader in front of your name - you had better well be willing to try and live up to it. And be seriously seeking God concerning your calling, and your fulfilment of that calling. I would say the same for any person that calls themselves a Christian, but that's a different post.

Today though, I spent a couple of hours talking with my pastor. In 9 years of independent living, I've never willingly chosen to sit and talk with a pastor about a problem. But today I did. And he prayed. And as he did, a revelation of who I am in Christ returned to me. And then he reminded me of my own words about being a warrior. It's hard to describe the puzzle pieces that were clicking just then as I remembered things I had written and how they were written for days just like these days of battle. I remembered books I'd read concerning tricks of the enemy. I remembered quotes I'd tried to memorize about impossibilities and how only the naive people go after some impossibilities. And then the scriptures I've read time and time again came back to mind.

I left my pastor, a different person than when I arrived. I didn't go directly home, but spent a refreshing time praying. When I did finally walk back in the doors, I didn't even know what I was saying as specific names of spirits came out of my mouth. I rebuked spirits of lies, hate, violence, fear, and several others and they were commanded, each by their own name, to leave by the name of Jesus. I say "they were commanded" rather than "I commanded" because from the moment I walked in the door it didn't feel like 'me'.

I enjoy not feeling like 'me'.

It's not over. I still feel things in this house. And every now and then tonight I've just stopped and rebuked something and commanded it to leave. I'm glad Little One isn't any older, because she'd have some very crazy stories to tell her family during visitation.

My pastor didn't give me hope for the day. He simply prayed and I received it. God was there, just as He promised to be. And He changed my heart. He turned despair into hope, and defeat into victory. He made a way through this and He literally led the way, because I didn't walk through my doorway in my power today but His. And it made all the difference.

Still, before I left my pastor today I asked him (are you listening Mark?) I asked him and his wife to come to my house, as soon as they're able, to help. And despite my past experience, I really think they'll come. I wish my mom could have found someone like that that night. I hope every man, woman and child that picks up the phone, or walks through the doors in search of a shepherd, finds a real one. I have to say, I have little use for the fakes.

This - literal - walk.

Tonight at church we sang about being a living sanctuary and I thought about how when shortly after beginning foster care I began thinking of my home, truly, as a sanctuary.
A sanctuary needing to be prepared.
A sanctuary needing to be pure.
A sanctuary needing to be holy.
A sanctuary needing to be tried.
A sanctuary that needs to prove itself true.
A sanctuary that will joyfully, and with full thanksgiving submit to being a sanctuary even on the days when it doesn't feel like it.
A sanctuary that needs to be alive. Living. Not stagnant, not dormant, not fruitless, but living. Alive.

As I thought about that tonight I realized that for a month, my house hasn't been a sanctuary. My life hasn't been a sanctuary. My house is exhausting, I'm exhausting.

So, I had a fit.

I put my little one to bed, waited till she was asleep and I went outside.
And I walked around the outside of my house. And for the first time in all this, there was no fear, no panic (if I try and pray inside my house the next thing I know I'm sweating, pale, and sick) there was no great rush of emotions.

I simply made my slow circle around the house telling God (not the devil) that this was His house. He had a plan, and a purpose for it from the beginning. But right now, that purpose is being hindered. Before walking back in the door my very last words were "This is Your house Jehovah Shalom, please clean it."

I walked in the door and I heard a voice hiss at me to die. I've heard it at least 13 times since that moment and it was only an hour or so ago.

I'm going to continue this walk, and this is going to become my Jericho house. This is day one.

I confess it sounds strange. Maybe you'll tell me it won't work. I also confess that I'm flying blind here. I've never seen or encountered the types of things I'm facing right now. And largely, the reason I'm willing to continue doing this, is because it seems to have upset the devil. Frankly this is all over my head. I've kept other people out of the house because I don't want it touching them. It's taken over a large portion of my life. I'm ready to bring this to a head. However that may be.

Take it? Take what? I don't see anything.

Little one came with no clothes to her name. A CPS worker had dug out some 2 yr old clothes from their "special needs closet" and brought those along with a bag with a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and baby wash. That was it. And the clothes didn't even fit seeing as she was nearly 3 and very tall for her age.

Since that day people have generously brought in clothes, and dresses. One woman amazingly enough arrived on my doorstep with 3 brand new pairs of shoes for Little One. Gods love comes from some surprising places sometimes.

But the last two days the weather has turned. Wet and chilly in the mornings. And Little Ones drawers are full of shorts and t/shirts. So this evening we went shopping. We're very well stocked now especially considering that in a couple of days the typical Texas heat will return. It was a pleasure though, walking down the aisles and finding things she might enjoy. Especially the few times she got excited and yelled "I need dat!" and it turned out she was pointing at something just perfect for her. The girl has style at least.

Driving home, she asked where we were going. And I said, "home". "Nets house?" she asked. *I'm "Net" by the way* And I said yes, we're going to Nets house. With that began the typical conversation where I tell her it's Little Ones house also. It's my house, and her house. It's Our House.

I understand, fully, that she holds ties to what is really her 'home' just as she holds ties to who 'mommy' is. And somewhere in there, tonight, I understood something better than I've ever understood it before. What I have, all of it, I offer to Little One. All she has to do is ask. I might withhold certain things from her because life can't be lived on suckers and ramen noodles alone. But deep down, the desire is to give her everything I have.

I've heard it said before, from the story of the prodigal son, that all that the Father has is at our disposal. But I never quite understood the Father's emotions behind wanting the child to have it. I understood the childs desires of wanting certain things. But tonight, wishing with everything I had that Little One could feel like Nets house was her house, I wondered more about what God is wishing for me to claim.

So much has happened the last month. I've fought, and cried, and complained. I've beat against Him the only ways I know how. And I wonder, if all along I've just been missing the point. The 'good' son in the story of the prodigal was angry with the father for something that was actually born of the sons mind, not any actual slight by the father. In fact, it seems the father responded with "It's not my fault, it's YOURS. Everything you're asking for, I've already given you. You just didn't take it."

I'm asking for a lot now just to make it through the nights. And I wonder if God isn't shaking His head at me saying "just take it." I confess, I don't know how to take it. I'm not asking for a robe or a fine calf that I can walk up and take. My desires are largely invisible, but make a world of difference to me. If He's offering it, all the powers of His Kingdom, then what is the secret to the 'taking'?

Checking my label

My little one and I are sitting in the living room enjoying her favorite cartoon. It's a 30 minute little show I record for her each day. It's called Caillou. If you've got a toddler, I have to tell you this is a good show and worth 30 minutes.

Unfortunately, 10 minutes into the show the tv goes off.

I fiddled with it a bit before coming to the conclusion that whether it was foul play or it died of old age, dead was still pretty well dead. So little one and I pull out the toys and play. About 20 minutes later the tv comes on. So we turn around and start watching her show again. 5 minutes later the volume begins it's trek up to full blast. I'm shoving little one off the couch cushions thinking that she must have sat on the remote, only to find it resting on the side of the couch out of her reach. I hold the volume button down but it's still trying to turn itself up. So I turn the tv off and we go back to playing. The tv comes back on. I turn it off and we leave the room. I finally end up unplugging the tv.

Bedtime arrives and I spend a good deal of time simply praying Gods protection for my little one. The things tormenting me, she doesn't need any part of. She's young. And I remember a post recently by someone (can't remember who at the moment) mentioning a scripture that says the angel of a little child has direct access to God. So I bring little one in and we pray together "Jesus, keep us". It's the best I've gotten her to repeat consecutively. But it's repetitive, and good enough.

With the house quieting down, I sit and my worship time takes a focus of where I've been. Who I was before. Recently I watched a video of the Martins singing "Except for Grace". And I reminded God that grace may be all it seems like I have sometimes, but, I can't see grace. And I have to confess, after spending this much time staring at an enemy, I've started to feel at odds with God. That surely, if I were right with God, this all wouldn't be happening.

And that's when I started thinking.

My little one, has spent every day for nearly 3 months with me. She visits with 'Mommy" one time a week for one hour. Yet she never fails to ask about mommy. Immediately upon returning from the visit she asks if she'll see mommy again. During the week, she asks if she'll see mommy again. She'll tell me briefly that she saw mommy, and hugged mommy, but then wants to be reminded that she'll see mommy again soon.

Absence may do a lot of things to people. Not having that constant feel of 'presence' may wear on you and make you sad. But if you ask my little one who loves her, her first answer is always "mommy". It hasn't mattered that she spends only 1 hour with mommy and the rest with me. Written in her little heart is a small label of "To whom I belong: Mommy".

After a lifetime of listening to Christian teaching, and 6 years of a close walking relationship with Christ my Savior and Friend, you'd think my label would be a little more firmly written. Ink, not pencil. Steel, not cheap paper. But even after all this time I still want Him to tell me. And tell me over and over and over again.

Sitting at little ones bedside each night after songs, and stories and prayer, she crawls into my lap and requests that I rock her like a baby. And for just a moment, the shifting feet, playing hands, and constant questions all stops and she closes her eyes. And tonight I closed my eyes along with her and thanked God for her life, and the gift that she is and the gift of all that I've learned about Him through her. Then I told God that she has the right idea - the best idea.

I just need to stop wiggling, stop asking, and close my eyes.

A change of focus.

I'm raising a 3 year old.
If there is one thing she's taught me it's that if I watch her to see if she's doing something wrong, she's probably going to do something wrong. If for no better reason than to make sure I keep watching. Life's more fun with people watching you know.

And that's why I erased my last post. I've given the devil enough attention. Too much attention. There was a key statement I made a recent post. I said: "I'm going to pretend the bad stuff isn't here and I'll tell you about the good stuff." And I've now decided that I'm going to simply stick with that. And since I began doing that I've come to believe that I have made it. I really have made it even with the bad stuff still here. And it's good. Just standing here, feels like victory. My actions as of late are anything but victorious - but sometimes you just have to focus on the fact that you've survived.

I told you, but erased the post telling you, that I fell. My back is almost entirely black. It's interesting to look at as far as injuries go. But I've always been a little different in my fascination with things like that. But after it happened I complained about it in my post, asking what was next. What's the devil going to try next? But now, now, I'm smiling and asking what is next. You see, God is working all things for good. And yes, it hurts, but it's also been one of the best things to happen to me in quite awhile. Something outstandingly wonderful has happened as a direct result of the fall. And looking now at the result of something that seems so entirely not good I have to say that I wish the devil had hurt me sooner.

My good outcome/bad event is what brought Romans 8:28 to mind. All things are worked to my good. I don't remember once considering that promise during the last couple of months. All things. Every struggle, every battle, every scare, every fear, every single moment of torment, while it's not from God, it is used by God. And He's working it, all of it, somehow, someway, when I don't understand, when I don't believe, when I can't hope, when I can't trust, when I've hit the absolute rock bottom of what faith I've got, He's working it to good.

Good.

And sometimes great.

O God, be not still.

I don't know how to say what all has happened in the last few days.

It's nice to know from the comments I've received that people out there in the Christian world believe things like this happen, and are praying. Thank you.

Like I said though, I don't know how to tell you about the events of the week. And I find I don't want to. I confess it's a very vulnerable feeling wondering how many people think you've cracked up. When I get through this, I really never want to see anything like it again. But for now, for this small period of time that I'm typing this out, I'm going to pretend the bad stuff isn't here and I'll tell you about the good stuff.

Almost immediately after posting Sunday night, I felt a change. Not so much in the things around me, but in me. I've got a calm now that I didn't have before.

I was thinking back tonight to months ago when I had a serious problem (not of this sort) and I got angry with the devil and I stomped through my house yelling at him. I yelled at him that he wanted to tell me lies, and so I would tell him some truth. And I proceeded to tell him my future, his future, Gods promises, who God was, what He would always be, and then made a point to include the fact that any logical person would be able to grasp the idea that if the devil is telling you it "is so" then, obviously the truth is that it "isn't so" and that I appreciated him clearing up that question of what 'really is' for me.

I don't make it a point to talk to the devil. I never do it really. At just that point though, it seemed fitting. Within days of that event I saw my first vision. God gave me a vision of my problem disappearing, vanishing. And my problem did indeed vanish. Thinking back to those days brings back such sweet thoughts. Having that vision, was like getting a glimpse of God. That's the only way I can describe it. I've gained some really incredible God memories this year. I suppose in the art of war it was only appropriate that I should have expected some incredible Devil memories too.

Monday I woke up with the phrase "Be not afraid". And looking back at Sunday nights post I see how many times the idea of fear cropped up in there. But all day long that phrase kept coming back to me. A commenter, Jennifer, left those words in a comment today as well.

Out of curiosity I brought up bible.com and asked it what other things I should "be not". Interestingly enough I didn't find what I expected. I found a list of 'be nots' for God.

But you, O LORD, be not far off; O my Strength, come quickly to help me. Ps. 22:19

O LORD, you have seen this; be not silent. Do not be far from me, O Lord. Ps. 35:22

O LORD, do not forsake me; be not far from me, O my God. Ps. 38:21

"Hear my prayer, O LORD, listen to my cry for help; be not deaf to my weeping. For I dwell with you as an alien, a stranger, as all my fathers were. Ps. 39:12

Be not far from me, O God; come quickly, O my God, to help me. Ps. 71:12

O God, do not keep silent; be not quiet, O God, be not still. Ps. 83:1


During bible study tonight we were reading in Ezekiel where God tells Ezekiel "Go do this." Ezekiel had been obedient and doesn't seem to even be questioning all the instructions he'd received up to that point. But on this particular issue he turned to God and petitioned Him. And God understood, and changed His command a bit.

Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that the whole days events aren't written in stone. He listens. He relents. He's a good Father. I believe during the last weeks that He has heard me. I don't have as good a track record as Ezekiel had on obedience. But it doesn't change Gods ability and desire to hear me.

So hear this: I need You.

What a strange post.

Ok.

Sometimes it's fun and easy to say crazy things. I told my little one this afternoon that an elephant must have snuck into the room and stole away all our markers. It was fun.

This is not.


Something is happening at my house.

Standing outside my house in the evening I've seen shadows of people in the windows of my house. There's no one in my house. There's something in my house. And most especially my bedroom.

Walking into the house, my stomach begins to churn. By the time I've been home a few hours I've usually already begun throwing up. If I spend that much time specifically in my bedroom, I get sharp pains in my sides, arms and neck. I leave my bedroom and the pain stops, but the sickness continues. I leave the house, and after a couple of hours I'm just fine. I've napped in my car just trying to get some rest. And at night, I'm now sleeping in my living room on the couch.
This is by far the strangest thing I've ever experienced.

This morning at church, the text for the sermon was from Revelation 3, and my eyes wandered over to Revelation 2:25. "Only hold on to what you have until I come." it says. And I realize I've lost ground over the last weeks. A lot of ground.
I'm afraid in my house. I'm literally afraid. I know that I have seen things and I've just completely worn out. If this were a physical war I'd be buried by now.

I've been told to read the scripture out loud by several people and I haven't. At least not in the main room that's scared me away. And as I was praying tonight I thought about why I wouldn't read out loud. The scripture came to my mind about the unclean spirit that left, but came back seven times worse and I realized how frightened I am of making the situation worse.

I almost called my pastor this morning to say I wouldn't be at church. I was still throwing up just before I walked out the door. But I realized what a scary trap that was if safety was outside my door but I was too sick to get out the door. I don't want to live like this. And the concept of what is happening here seems unbelievable to me. I don't know that I'd believe it if someone else told me this story. I'd come up with rationalizations. But now that I've experienced this week I don't know that I'd ever disbelieve a story about demons again.

I want my peace back. I want rest. But more than anything, I don't want to be afraid anymore.

I'm not trying this tonight. But tomorrow night I'm going to start fighting back. I want my room back. I want my house back. I want my life back. I want my power back.

And the devil laughed

(As you'll be able to see, this post took a different turn towards the end. I didn't expect to say what I was saying, but when the writing begins to flow, I let it. This painted a vivid picture in my mind, but I'm not that good a painter so you might not see the same picture. My only qualification is that, no, I'm not saying I'm sitting on a pew dying. Good luck.)

I can't take it anymore. What does that mean?
It may seem like a dumb question, but it's one I faced.
When you feel like you just can't stand it anymore, what do you do?
You can't stand it.
You can't handle it.
You can't take it.

Just because you can't "stand" it anymore, doesn't change the situation. It doesn't make the situation stop. It doesn't make whatever is bugging you go away. It doesn't change one thing.

Just because you can't 'handle' it anymore, doesn't change the fact that the situation is out of your control to 'handle' anyway.

Just because you can't 'take' it anymore, doesn't change the fact that it's there, giving itself to you whether you can take it or not.

I told God recently, "I can't take much more God." And once again, God turns me with a question, "What will happen when you can't take any more?"

Words seem pretty pointless when you put it like that. My body can't stand the impact of a truck plowing into my car. But that doesn't change the situation if a truck plows into my car. Things break, things hurt, and after a time, my body will begin to be able to 'stand' things again.

But when it comes to spiritual things it's a lot harder to label it. There certainly can be spiritual things that sideswipe me and break my spirit, but it's all invisible. No one sees your spirit in a sling or your peace set into a cast or maybe just the bruises on your happiness. People can't see those things.

It allows people to be crushed, and left broken, wondering how the world can't see that joy died, or that faith has become paralyzed. And we can go through all these transitions while sitting in a pew, teaching a sunday school class, witnessing to neighbors or leading the choir, or for a lot of very congregation weary pastors out there, it can also happen while pastoring a church. And people never see.

It leaves me curious, fearfully curious as to what all is around me. How many Christians have suffered spirit crippling collisions and never tended to their injuries?

Maybe things in this world got worse and worse as we stopped performing first aid on our Christian wounded. The phone calls, the visits, the letters, the friendship and fellowship, the knowing your church families hurts as if they were your own. Tending the wounds of our brothers and sisters, purging out the dirt that seeps into wounds, cleansing and healing each other.

Instead, our Christians sat on pews, while their spirit, joy, hope, and their ability to love others (rather than just hope for survival) dripped down onto the church floor like blood.
We began to die.
And no one really noticed.
And the devil laughed.

Heartsongs

I got mad tonight. It's a rare thing when I get truly angry.
Oh sure, I'll rant. Most of my rants though are done in good humor. I believe everyone SHOULD eat ketchup on their hotdog, it's NOT unAmerican, and yes, it IS way better than mustard.
But this tonight was simply angry.

Just before church during a little practice time for the choir (temporarily the size of a trio, but we'll grow) the very last song that we sang was about worship.
The words say "We have come into His house, and gathered in His name, to worship Him"

Somewhere during that song the importance of the 'gathered in His name' really hit me.
It's better to not do anything at all (it seems) than to do something half-hearted and luke-warm under the banner of being gathered in Christs name.

Shortly after the practice, our small, but kind-hearted congregation stood up and sang about rejoicing in the day that the Lord has made, entering into His gates with praise, and bringing a sacrifice - a sacrifice mind you - of praise.

It's not really about the people, or how well, or how loud we sang or didn't sing. It was the idea (that Sister Cala recently reminded me of in a comment) that we were singing and not worshipping. I'm not pointing fingers, I was too busy contemplating all this rather than shoving it out to worship for the most part. Something just kept feeling wrong with the picture.

I wanted to ask God to not watch.

It's like having a group of people gathered around a birthday cake, but singing "Happy birthday" in a monotone voice while the people distractedly looked around the room. I wouldn't want a child to be sung to on his birthday like that. It could hurt their feelings.

And that's just what I kept thinking tonight. "God, I'm sorry... turn Your head, don't look."

It's not about how loud you sing. It's not about whether you stand up or sit down during the service. It's not about raised hands, closed eyes, or good musicians. It's not about the song service that has been perfectly worked out before hand with all the copies made of all the words so everyone will know what to sing and when.

It's about that moment when you feel someones heart begin to cry out with thanksgiving, as they enter His courts with praise. When a persons heart shouts HE HAS MADE ME GLAD!!!!!!!!!!!!! and that shout doesn't have to be any louder than a whisper to be felt across the entire room.

It's about singing with your heart, and not your mouth.

We fail to apply the fact that He is Holy. Yeshua, Jehovah, Yahweh. Sure, we know it. But we fail to apply it. We invite God into our presence and then routinely offer Him less than our best. We are Cain.

I'm not condemning my church. I love my church. I'm not even trying to say they did something wrong tonight. I don't believe that they did. But I don't think we offered our best.

I just wish I could hear what it would sound like if my little church sang like Christ was actually listening. There is so much hurt though, within families of churches (everywhere, not just my own) that I imagine the singing would quite quickly dissolve into weeping. I think lives would change.

I do not mean to sound judgemental, if anything I feel the sting of conviction as I write this knowing that I offered less than my best as well.

Since the first of the year I've maintained a constant cry for more of God. I got it too, though I still cry for more. The strange gifts He's given over the past months have only made me addicted, hoping for my next fix of Him. But lately the idea of "we've got to do better" has been right beside "we need more of You".

Sure you can say that we can do nothing on our own and that we must simply pray and God will help us do better. I agree. But often I believe God makes things possible - not necessarily easy. Sacrifice, dying to self, crucifying the flesh those aren't things that are done easily simply because you woke up and said a prayer. I just can't believe that. Sometimes you just have to stick your flesh in the corner and then truly, bring a sacrifice of praise. A sacrifice costs you something. Next time, before I dare to sing to God that I'm bringing a sacrifice of praise into the house of the Lord I think I'll make sure I really am. Or else it's just called lying. Boasting. Worse, boasting of something that isn't true.

Sure it sounds holy to sing that. Sounds like a great group of Christians bringing their sacrifice of praise. I wonder if God ever gets mad at us? Like a 15 year old taking a crayon and scribbling on a paper and then giving it as a gift we look to God expecting a smile. If I were God, I'd be disappointed in some of the gifts I've brought. I'd be angry at my self-righteous air of having done something pleasing to Him. I'd want to sock it to me, and let me know how disgusting my half-hearted attempts look compared to His glory.

I'm glad God isn't like me.

I don't want to leave you on this seemingly complaining note. So I'll add the bright side to the whole thing. As I mentioned in a post earlier this week God is easy to please. When we worship Him with our whole hearts - sincere and undivided - It doesn't matter how pretty our voices are, if we sing the right words, to the right time, or end up humming. He is our proud Father, smiling down on our efforts and gifts. He loves us.

And if we ever just stopped to think about Him and His goodness towards us as we sang maybe, much like Abraham walking back down Mount Moriah with Isaac, we'd later discover that our sacrifice of praise, was no sacrifice at all.

1 step recipe for success.

Spend time in prayer.