Confession my faults - Fear.

I like apologizing.

I know what you're thinking, and I saw that eye-roll. You'll just have to trust me on this. I like apologizing. I enjoy naming how my sin was wrong, bringing it to light, and letting someone know I'm sorry not just for doing whatever, but for the disrespect, unkindness, selfishness, whatever sinful nature was rearing up to cause the action in the first place.

It leaves me feeling like I just kicked dirt in the devils eye. I like to take sin seriously - not in that I would think about it all the time, but that when I do find it in my life I figure out what it really is.

I've been stressed out lately. I didn't realize it until the other night but the move I'm about to make and all it's little ramifications was scaring me. I did some math the other day and, living on my own, after bills here I'd have $52 left for groceries for the month.

It's not that I don't think I'll eat, because I know God will provide work and money so I actually don't think I'll go without. It just made me realize how close to the line I'm going to be. If emergencies come up...

And I became afraid.
I didn't rest in the promise that God would supply my needs, He would help me, and give me wisdom as to the house to choose and what actions to take in order to use the money He's provided me with wisely.

As I grew more afraid, my actions around my poor housemates changed as well.

The turning point was when I griped at my nephew for dumping his water out to put fresh water in his cup. He said it was old and I griped something about how water doesn't taste old after 3 hours.
Then later that evening, I brought my cup downstairs, dumped the water out, rinsed the cup and refilled it with fresh water.

Instantly I was convicted.

And I did something I hadn't done too recently; I went to my bedroom, dropped to my knees beside my bed and I wept before God. I repented of my actions towards my family, and I prayed He would help me not just to treat them as He would, but that He would calm my fears and I would simply trust Him for my needs without worry.

I told Him I was stressed out, worried, and anxious and I didn't know how to handle the changes coming up on my own. I told Him I loved Him dearly, and that I hadn't been showing it - and I was so very sorry for how off-track my heart had wandered from the path and that I needed Him to draw me nearer, because I just wasn't close enough. I need Him more.

Wednesday night on the way home from church I was working on memorizing 2 Chronicles 7:14 with the kids: If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from Heaven and forgive their sin and heal their land.

It seemed that night, those words were prophetic as I unthinkingly acted them out. But I got up that evening forgiven. Regrets can't be changed, but forgiveness is wonderful. But I didn't realize until later that God had worked on healing my land as well. Today is different, I don't know how or where I'll ultimately end up but... There is something new inside me that's able to trust for this now. And I came home and it was probably one of the more peaceful, kind nights at the house.

The night I repented, afterwards I stayed up late reading 1 John. When I reached 5:4 I found another verse that I set about trying to memorize. It's well worth memorizing if you'd like to try.

For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world; even our faith. 1 John 5:4

Christ is not my accuser.

I received a call this past week from my parents. My mother, as most of you might remember, has alzheimer's and desperately wanted me to come get her. It was a long, hard two hour conversation that actually crazily ended suddenly with her forgetting why she called me.

Later, I found myself wondering idly if God would ever forgive me. If there was ever any way I would be able to repent my way out of knowingly not being there for my mother. For telling her no. For hardening my heart against the accusations she tearfully flung at me and sitting here in San Antonio away from the suffering she's going through. There's no way to repent from that... this will forever be a black mark on my record. I will forever be the person that did this to her mother. How can Christ forgive that intentional choice?

And suddenly I realized what I'd done. By continuing that thought process I'd allowed myself to become at odds with Christ, separated from God by sin.

When I haven't even sinned.

The Bible describes the devil as an accuser of the brethren and it's entirely accurate. He leans into your ear and tells you of the things you feel you've failed at and lets you know that God is too good to put up with someone like you. God is too holy, to just to allow someone who would do what I've done into His presence.

But, I'm in San Antonio, far away from my "rightful place" taking care of my mother because God wants me in San Antonio. I don't know why, I don't know what purpose He has in taking me away from her now when she and my dad could use my help the most - but it was instigated by God Himself. So during this time I can either allow my accuser to separate me from Christ, or I can draw closer to Christ to help get me through the hard times.

I tell you this because it's too easy to listen to the devil. To not realize who it is that is talking to you. To understand the difference between the Holy Spirit conviction on your soul and the accuser condemning your soul. Just because you do what God wants you to do doesn't mean that everything else in the world will be wonderful. Sometimes you go to China on a missions trip just as your wife gets sick. Sometimes you happen to be visiting someone at a hospital when someone breaks into your house. Sometimes things happen.
But as long as you're doing what God wants you to do, then simply take heart in that and trust His lead. He won't ever condemn you for doing what He tells you to do. He loves you.

So be careful to examine what you think you're hearing. And any voice that's telling you God can't forgive you - well, it's not the voice to listen to.

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 let the devil show you one tree, when God has planted you a forest.

The lyrics coming to mind right now are "Be still my soul, the Lord is on your side."

And while not everything has come together (I sincerely doubt that until I reach Heaven that I'll be able to conclusively say that "everything" has come together...) I just want to tell you what God has done.

When I left San Antonio at the end of September, I had been job hunting for nearly 4 months with no real success. The only luck I did have was one incredibly fun job that unfortunately netted me about 2-3 hours of pay per week. Needless to say, for some reason I felt that wasn't enough to live off of. Just before I left, I had finally been offered 2 jobs and had to turn them down. I also had two interviews lined up that I had to cancel (interviews were hard to come by as well, so even getting to that stage was progress).

When I submitted to God and said I would return to San Antonio after a month helping my mother I wondered if God had been in my return at all. It had felt like the right thing to do, and today, in hindsight, the month seemed just exactly what was needed. Dad needed a break from mom, and some physical help in doing some of the major renovations he'd begun on what will one day be their home, and here I was ready and able to crawl under the house and get dirty.

When I came back though, in my prayers was that God would bless what I'd done. That He would bless my letting go of San Antonio and doing what I felt was necessary. I suppose it's hard to understand but I didn't want a blessing just because I wanted things to be easier or because I was tired of job hunting or needed money. I truly wanted it just to know that Gods hand of blessing was on something that I had done.

I returned on Sunday night, and began job hunting Monday morning. I went through several interviews and tests with one company and was required to come back a second day for more interviews. On that second day I was hired. I didn't announce it on my blog because there were some negative issues concerning it but deep inside all I could think was "You've really blessed me Lord." 4 months of looking and searching, and He brings about His will in 2 days. I was distinctly impressed with the realization that what I have isn't because I've done something, but because God has. It's easy to neglect that idea.

The only issue was that, well, now it was November 3rd, and my new job wouldn't start till November 18th. I deliberated the idea of continuing the job search in hopes of finding something that would start sooner. But the reality of no money coming in combined with the fact that cars run on gas, equaled the knowledge that if I have no gas I could technically have no job as well if I can't transport myself back and forth until the pay begins. So I sat back, slightly nervously I must say, and waited for the 18th to arrive.

At nearly 7pm on the 17th I received a phone call from the company telling me not to come to work. They'd had a problem with my background and until it was resolved I couldn't come to work. The next training classes would begin in January.

I'd like to tell you that I began fasting and praying, or that I hit my knees and didn't get up from my righteous womans fervent praying until I felt the issue was resolved. But instead all I could feel was quiet. I told God, quite simply, that I could only do what I could do the best I could do it and the rest was up to Him. And then I wrote a blog post about how God had given me too much.

At 8am this morning I stood before the door of their building and asked that God would grant me favor with these people. Then I went in, announced myself, and said I was there to talk to Barbara in HR. I took a seat in the lobby filled with people that were preparing to start that morning. I sat quietly as the receptionist called them all back. I waited alone in the lobby 20 minutes for my audience with Ms. Barbara McCoy.

She was gracious, but very firm. My application was fraudulent, the company I said I worked for for 5 years did not know I existed. They would not hire me. I pointed out the error (they had called the wrong company - which was partially my fault because they had to look up the information because I'd written the wrong area code). I told her that I'd already talked to that employer this morning and that she should have already received an e-mail from them in the last 30 minutes.

She left me alone in the room again while she went to verify the e-mail and some other things that had not been done concerning me. She returned with a welcoming smile and said "Come with me." I suppose I have limited life experience, but I could only imagine those words sounding sweeter coming from my Savior as He welcomed me to Heaven. I have a job.

I've been in San Antonio 5 months without steady work. When I try and stop and figure out how on earth I've paid my bills, I don't have the faintest clue. I really don't. Yet every month I've been able to pull my share and even help others when they've needed it. He's given me too much.

As I studied the facts tonight and that the two tanks of gas required to drive back to my parents for Thanksgiving might be more than I can handle, I talked over the possibility of my not going back for the holiday with my family here. Minutes later I checked my e-mail and someone was interested in something I had on craigslist. There is one tank of gas. Will God provide the 2nd?

None of these things have happened with wild shouts and exclamations of joy but with a suddenly quiet spirit that is willing to just wait and see how it turns out. This has distinctly felt like one of those moments where I just had to hold my peace and let the Lord fight my battles. And He has. And it has been a perfect example of how I am victorious today. Rather than trying to pin it all on "Now the problems are solved it's going to change" it's simply; Today. Sufficient for the day is the trouble thereof - or something like that.

He's given me too much.

I feel like this part should be in a different, separate post so those who aren't interested in the minute details that this post is chock full of wouldn't have to wade through it all - but it fits here so for those that skipped this post because it was too long I'm sorry they missed this part.

At church tonight, the speaker made a point concerning the events of Adam and Eves original sin. If you read from a King James Bible it depicts how God came to Adam and Eve and said "You may eat of all the trees in the Garden. But do not eat of this tree."
The devil came along and said "Did not God say you could not eat of all the trees in the Garden?"

Gods focus in His wording was on all that He has given us. You may eat of ALL the trees - save one.
Whereas the devil twists the words to "You can not eat of all the trees" and taints everything with the one thing forbidden.

In explaining the concept to my niece this evening I gave her the example of when she and her brother were obsessed with heelies. No matter what you gave them, their hearts cry was for heelies and whatever you gave them it wasn't heelies. They couldn't see "all the trees" because the devil had limited their focus to "not ALL", the one thing they didn't have.

And I don't know how to hand you a peace like this except to tell you what God has done for me, and how wonderful it is, how peaceful it is, how precious it is to have my gaze now on "all the trees".
I'm sure my gaze will swing sometime. I'm human and stupid - a LOT. But despite the things that seem to be lacking right now, I can only keep thinking "He's given me too much." There is extra. There is more than enough. More than more than enough.

Don't let the devil show you one tree, when God has planted you a forest.

There's a hand holding my tire and I don't mind.

Okay, it's not so much that I don't mind that there is a hand holding my tire when I ride my bicycle every day, but this morning a thought occurred to me that I can be thankful for that hand.

Every morning it seems, as I ride my bike merrily along the way, at some point I come to a seemingly flat surface and yet it's as hard to move along as if I were trying to trek up a steep incline. I half-jokingly griped to God this morning that apparently the devil didn't want me to exercise so he was holding my tire and I was having to drag him along.

Instantly, as though continuing a longstanding conversation, the words returned to me; "Then as long as you keep going, he's only making you stronger."

And I realized how much stronger I am now for having faced the hills, for having continued pedaling when my flat surface seemed not-so-flat. "I thank God for the mountains, and I thank God for the valleys,..." Because of those problems, because of those physical struggles I can go farther and longer than I could 5 months ago when I first moved here.

And as I looked back quickly into the last 8 years of my life, I saw a lot of times where it was really hard to keep going, where I felt held back, tripped up, or just couldn't see how the obstacle I had to climb was able to be clumb. Yeah spell checker, I know that's not a word.

And yet God let me face them. Not because He gets some sadistic pleasure out of seeing me struggle but because He wants me to grow, to be strong, to learn, to understand, to chase after Him and His will with a drive and purpose and with stamina built by facing the daily challenges life brings me.

So often I've noticed me and my bike only have stamina to make it up the short hills, but the long ones require the foolish looking "park on the side of the road panting for a minute while drivers point and laugh". Okay, I made the pointing and laughing up but still...

When I moved to San Antonio, I never thought it would take quite so long to get settled, I didn't imagine mothers having heart attacks, or parents threatening to separate, or pills making my mother's alzheimers a thousand times worse. I didn't imagine half of the struggles I've run into since I've made it here. And this hill sometimes seems too long, as though I only have strength for a short struggle and if this is going to continue I will need a place to rest and pant and recover my strength.

But as I pushed through today, riding down my flat surface and imagining the devil hanging onto my bike tire, I could only tell God how much I appreciate the struggle. So again Lord, thank You for allowing me these struggles. I wouldn't have chosen them for myself but You have chosen the ones that You know You have already strengthened me to face. I remember riding up that long hill the other day and asking You for strength to make it up and I will never forget what You told me. You said that You'd already given me the strength to make it up the hill, but that I must only have the will to use it to the end.

So thank You, even when I cry and complain that the hills of life are too hard, that the grief or challenge is too overwhelming, I know that You have directed these things into my path so that as I go through I will be stronger. I'll whine and moan again Lord, I always seem to...but just keep reminding me would you? remind me that there's a purpose and a plan and those things are always for the best and that these struggles aren't meaningless.
Help me have stamina for the journeys Lord, for the long hills I'll face. I'll face the hills you bring me Lord, and as long as I don't stop I know I'll be stronger because of them.
Help me never stop.
I love You.
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.

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.

1 step recipe for success.

Spend time in prayer.

For every lie there is a truth.

If the devils lies were bricks, I'd be living in a brick mansion.

To be honest, I don't know about anyone elses walk. Maybe none of you face the same things I do. If you don't, maybe you just read my blog so you can go to bed at night with a sigh of relief saying "there but for the grace of God go I!"

But I blog on. And you read on. I hope it's useful.

Driving in to work this morning I made a really sad realization. It's one I've been aware of before, maybe even stopped to think about it before, but it pierced a little more deeply this time I believe.

Sometimes, I've chosen to believe the devils lies, because it's easier than hoping.

For every lie, there is a truth. The devil says I'm worthless. God says I'm worth dying for. Look at yourself, which one is easier for you to believe? Is it easier to shout at the devil that you're worth dying for or to cry out to God that you're worthless?

I know my answer. And unfortunately I spend way too much time crying out to God the devils lies.

But just because the lies are easier to believe., doesn't make them any truer.

Imagine, just for a moment, if you threw all the lies of the devil out the window for just one day.
For just one day, you didn't believe people were out to get you.
For just one day, you believed you didn't have to be afraid.
For just one day, you weren't afraid to trust, love, hope, or step out of the boat.
For just one day, you knew everything would be ok.
For just one day, you didn't think fill in name was beyond Gods reach.
For just one day, you didn't think _________ was impossible.
For just one day, you didn't think you were alone.
For just one day, you didn't think fill in person/church/event/relationship was going to fail.

I don't really believe that the biggest problem is that we can't tell the difference between the lie and the truth. I generally know the devils lies. I know when he's lying to me. But, I also know the devils way seems deceptively easier. It's easier to believe _______ is impossible, than to step out of the boat and take a risk.
10 years later though, maybe even just a month later, you realize life is a lot more difficult because you didn't step out to grab the impossible.

Not 20 minutes ago, my 5'5" co-worker was chased down the hallway by a big roach looking thing with wings. She stepped into the restroom, and popped right back out with a shout I can't repeat on a Christian blog. For several minutes I listened to the sounds of her trying to exterminate him. She's got a good 5'4" on this guy, but he had wings, and could run fast. This bug has been predetermined to be nasty and so she didn't want to touch him. Afraid that he would touch her, she ran.

I went back there, finally, and stepped on him.
Here's the moral.

The devil will fill your mind with his nasty little lies. He'd be happy to. He's got plenty of time on his hands. I can either spend my time running away from his lies, hoping they won't touch me and make me feel bad. Or I can march over to it and stomp on it. I can't handle this? STOMP. My friend will have to figure out how to live with and control the pain of her fibromyalgia? STOMP. God won't provide? STOMP. That guy looks too dirty to offer him a ride? STOMP. God has condemned me? STOMP. I'm not smart enough about biblical things to witness? STOMP.

I want a bug free life. I want a bug free mind. Peace, real peace doesn't come from running from those bugs the devil has hatched in my mind, but from killing them. And then clinging to the truth. The Truth. For every lie, there is a truth. And I will never find freedom, peace, joy, until I find the truths that God has provided for each lie, and cling.

I just long for freedom. I long to see people experiencing freedom around me. Not just people running from the enemy, but grabbing onto God. There's a difference. Too much religion is about running from the devil, and not about running to God. I'm longing. Longing for better for myself. Longing for better for everyone around me.
And if I'm longing for that, I can only imagine how much God is longing for that. But first I have to stomp that little bug that says God doesn't spend time longing for me.

Great job with a good retirement plan.

I'm sitting here wondering about motives.

Thinking of the army/our military in general. I know some people have signed up for our military because there are good benefits. They help pay for college, hospital care free of charge for their veterans, loans at a lower interest rate. They help train you in jobs you wouldn't normally be able to get fresh out of high school. They teach you things like discipline and leadership that help you through life.

I wonder though if I'd rather have soldiers that joined the army for the benefits, or soldiers that joined because they love freedom and wanted to destroy the enemy to our freedom.

How many Christians have signed on to salvation simply for the benefits?
Which soldier are you?

F I G H T!

You don't know how hard it is to not post his ENTIRE article. David Copeland over at Revival Journal posted Satanic Attacks and an Open Heaven. I'll only give you a piece of his article, but it's well worth taking the time to go to his site and read the whole thing.

"I sense satan has stepped up the warfare for 2 reasons:
1. satan is attempting to close our open heaven. satan always attacks directly before, or directly after a great blessing from God! I don’t believe satan has the power to reverse something God has done, nor reverse what He has decreed be done: but when he begins to bombard us with temptation, failures and physical attacks, along with that comes an assignment of unbelief! It’s easy to keep your faith strong when everything is going great. The challenge comes when you fail, yield to a temptation or a besetting sin…when your body feels like it is about to lay you down for the last time; when your check book tries to tell you giving to God is a gimmick, a hopeless waste of time, that’s when it becomes a real challenge to keep your faith strong in the Lord and in the power of His might!"

No, I'm not telling you the second reason.. you'll just have to go to his site!
And...

"Every blessing God pours into your life, He does it to increase your dependence on Him and your addiction to His Spirit!"

Hello, my name is Jeanette... and I'm addicted to the Holy Spirit.

And...

"...now I want to encourage you: Be strong, and be encouraged! We ARE in a season of an open heaven! And even though we have not experienced everything we thought we would experience in this season, God IS releasing your miracle, your deliverance, your finances, and your restoration for you, your marriage and your ministry!
You will not just see it with your eyes you will hold it in your hands!"

AMEN!

The enemy.

I was scared. I remember vividly how my heart was racing, and the terror rushing my thoughts. I could see someone coming, they weren't hurried, but slow and steady in their movement. They were coming into my house, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they weren't there for my possessions, but for me. I knew they wanted me dead.

Their patient progress towards me didn't give me more hope of getting away, but instead struck even more fear as I knew I would never be fully 'away' from whoever this was, but that they would slowly, but constantly be making progress my way. I ran.

I ran next door into a building, where there were two office doors. The closest one was open and a man sitting at a desk. The second door was closed, but it was the office of the man I thought would truly be a protection. I jiggled and shoved at his door.... locked. It was locked. The door I had entered the building by opened and my enemy calmly walked in. I called out to the second man that I had originally passed up, praying for any help he might be able to give.

My enemy was a young woman. She wasn't large in build, or very muscular. As the man I cried out to for help, exited his office to see the commotion, she turned to him and smiled. I watched incredulously as she and my protector had a polite discussion. As I insisted her to be a danger, he calmly explained that it was all just a misunderstanding. I felt panicked and alone as I could not convince someone that she was indeed a threat and a danger to me.

She then turned her smile to me, a smile that had lost all it's charm and false grace. A smile that....

And then I woke up.

How many friends do I have running from an invisible enemy? Knowing little except they're scared, they're being hurt, and their lives are being broken and destroyed.

Just typing the dream as I saw it this morning still makes my heart race. As I woke, an instant parallel was drawn between this woman and my true enemy. Satan is on earth to steal, kill, and destroy. His name is not used very often. Satan, Lucifer, Abaddon, Beelzebub, Belial, devil.

He is our enemy. Willing to kill us with violence, or with something as simple as indifference. Whatever the method of killing, dead is still no more than dead. He has taken simple methods of showing a child cocaine and assuring them that it is cool and doesn't hurt anything. He's taken extreme methods and birthed the idea of the effectiveness of bombs on busy subway tracks. He keeps sinners occupied with troubles and events so they won't believe they have time for church. And he overwhelms them with Christian rules so they believe they'll never be able to conform to "the image of Christ".

He is an enemy. He is deadly. He is underestimated.

We have closed our spiritual eyes, assuming that demonic powers of this world are simply "life". Drugs happen, suicide happens, devastation happens, marriages break up, unwanted children aborted, homosexuals simply confused. Our weak friends, our weak co-workers, our weak family members all feel the taint of death on their life and are desperate for help - for God.

We are suppose to see with spiritual eyes. To see the enemy they can't see. Where counselors may define it with clinical terms, diagnose it and treat it with medication; we're suppose to see the enemy for what it really is, past the charm and gracious smile, lies Lucifer. The Father of lies.