Why Christmas Makes Me Cry

It's 4:30 AM Christmas morning. The house is quiet. I'm sitting here in the glow of little white lights, and the tears just keep coming. What is wrong with me? Why does Christmas make me cry?

The whole story of Christmas, the reason for Christmas, is celebration. We celebrate our history. We celebrate the beauty of a Creator loving us so much that He became one of us so that we could truly know Him. We celebrate with family, friends, food, gifts...we celebrate with joy and laughter.
But I can't stop these tears.

Christmas is perfection. The story depicts perfect love...love that is giving. Love that transcends everything bad in this world and shows us the purity of a heart with no malice, no envy, no hatred...a being who loves without condition. With great abandon, he lavishes love upon every single one of us...old and young...love that keeps giving and reaching and chasing us down.

But love is so often ignored by us...this love that we need so much. 


I'm feeling like the shepherd in the stable on that night so long ago. I imagine my heart would be bursting at the beauty of that moment...this baby, so perfect...so special. I might realize something amazing was taking place, yet not really understand what I'm witnessing. I'd be mesmerized by Him, by this babe in the cradle. While I'd feel frozen in time and space with my feet seemingly glued to the stable floor...there would be something stirring and swelling within me...something making me want to rush out of there yelling to the world, "Come and see!!! Come and look upon perfection! True Love is here!! Emmanuel!! God is right here with us!! Oh come!!! Everything has changed!! LOVE HAS COME FOR US!!" 

Yes, love has come for us. But we're so distracted that we don't even notice.

Love is here. And I want the whole world to know.
I don't want anyone to miss it.

So this is why Christmas makes me cry...

United We Stand?

I have been quiet lately. I haven't said anything about the football players who didn't stand for the National Anthem. And it isn't because I haven't heard about it. I may not watch football, but Facebook is filled with outrage and opinion as if somehow our country is going to fall apart because a few young men didn't follow our patriotic ritual.

Have you ever seen the videos of North Korean children, all singing in unison about how their country is the best, and how they love their father-leader? It is a scary sight. What is most frightening is that they do not have a choice. They are required to sing those songs and march in perfect unison.

We Americans were taught to stand and put our hand over our heart, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. We were also taught to stand when the Anthem was being played at our High School football games. I believe respect is a good thing. I also believe it is good to feel loyal to this great country.

Respect. Loyalty. These are attributes that should be taught and exampled, not laws to be enforced. Respect is earned. Loyalty born in a heart that feels safe.

There are people who love this country, but have a very different perspective than my privileged white one. People who do not feel "safe". People who feel they are being treated unfairly by certain citizens of law enforcement. No, let's just admit that they ARE being treated unfairly. Murder is very unfair. Being shot is not fair at all. Being seen as guilty or dangerous just because of the color of your skin is nothing but unfair.

We are outraged by the violent protests chanting "Black Lives Matter" yet these few who choose to protest in a quiet and non-violent manner still outrage us. Does it cause us to feel just a little uncomfortable in our white skin?

If this section of our populous is fed up, and wants to make a statement against these atrocities by kneeling during the Anthem, they have every right to do so.
(Yes and we have every right to go after them for it, with our holier than thou Facebook rants and twitter tweets defending this great country. As if America is offended by their lack of compliance to her tradition, and our servicemen cry over these protests.)

We might make this country we love so much even greater by noticing their protest...by empathizing with their pain, and listening to their cries for freedom and liberty for all.

We have allowed our outrage at people who don't follow the proper protocol to cloud the real issue. If there are some who feel threatened and unsafe among us, then why are we still singing? 

Why aren't we all kneeling in humility, crying with them, and asking their forgiveness for the atrocities they're experiencing?

America, what are we standing for?

My I am loves to Dance

(another excerpt from my someday book, "The Popeye Chronicles: Becoming my I am")

I have always loved to dance. Ever since I can remember, I have loved music, and when music is playing, my body is dancing. I feel music in every fiber of my being. It expresses some of the deepest parts of me, and that expression comes out in dance.

When we came into the Kingdom, I stopped dancing. After going to church and learning about how sinful I was, I knew the dancing part of me had to die. After all, I spent a lot of years dancing to ungodly rock music...in very ungodly places. I probably caused many men to succumb to lust, and was responsible for many women's sinful jealousy. My dancing days were over. So sad.

The problem was, our church music was upbeat and there were even people moving to it during worship. But, they weren't really dancing...not the kind of dance that was inside of me. There's was an acceptable dance which didn't seem much like a dance at all. It was actually more like jumping. (Evidently aerobics are acceptable to the Lord.) Anyway, I felt very uncomfortable doing it. Oh how I wanted to dance!!

Well, the dancer within was coming out...at home. 

In my house, by myself, I began to put worship music on and move to my heart's delight...and God's as well. I know He loved my dancing because He would dance with me. I felt His presence and the warmth of His smile. It was glorious to be back...to find myself again. So, I danced and I danced and I danced...

But finding your I am can be a dangerous thing. My dancing I am was released at a funeral for a friend. She was taken, in my opinion, way too early. Her service was in the church I attended. Music was playing, one of my favorite songs...and the next thing I knew I was out of my seat...dancing in the aisle. Yep, my I am came out in full force for all to see. I guess I had become so used to being "me" at home, alone with God, that I couldn't be suppressed any longer. So, I danced. And in the moment I didn't care, I was caught up with Him, dancing with my Beloved, and dancing with my friend.

As the service was ending, that stupid insecure false me tried to rear her ugly head with accusations...trying to blanket me in shame. But God had me covered. He always covers our shame if we'll let Him. (Too often we jump in and try to cover ourselves which only serves to hinder our I am.) But this day someone very dear to the woman came up to me and said "I am so glad you danced! It was beautiful, and she would have loved it!!" Oh thank you!! And thank You, God...for loving me and loving my dance!!
I would like to say that I am completely free now and dance with abandon any time the Spirit moves me...but it is not yet true. But one thing is true; my dancing I am will never make me ashamed again.

Quote another verse
Say another prayer
Sing another song
Moving right along... 

Dot every i and cross every t
God is so very proud of me.

I'm doing great
Have it all figured out.
Don't expose my doubt
He might kick me out.


Quote another verse
Say another prayer
Sing another song
Moving right along...


Wait, what's wrong?
What's happening to me?
Can't keep it up, I'm falling...
How can this be?

Quote another verse
Say another prayer
Sing another song
Moving right along...

Hold on, do it right
Fight the good fight!

Quote another verse
Say another prayer
Sing another song
Moving right along...

Arms stretched out
Ready to brace
Adjust the mask
Protect my face!

Landing softly
Love covers me
Under this blanket
I can finally see.

Here I am,
And here I'll be
It always was Him,
never me!
Not holding on
Being held
By He.  

Striving is dead.
I've learned to be
My cheeks are red
But no shame in me

I've been smacked
in the face
by grace.
I'm free!!!

Politics...Throwing My Hat in the Ring

I don't know too much about politics.
I do know that politics bring out the worst in people. I know that politics feed the "US vs. THEM" mentality that I believe Jesus came to abolish.

I don't know the candidates. I have never met them. I only know what the media says about them. I do know that they are both created in God's image, just like me. I think they probably both believe they are right in their beliefs for our country. I know that they are parents, husband, wife, flesh and blood people who hurt and laugh and cry. Flawed people, who need God's love as much as I do.

I know that Jesus said we are all His brothers and sisters.
I know that God said we are all His children. I know that I hurt when my children are fighting.
And I know that it affects our children when they see we adults fighting and calling people names, and doing the very things that we instruct them not to do.

I know that God didn't say He would legislate His Kingdom on earth. He did say that He would pour out His Spirit on us, and we would demonstrate His Kingdom through our lives; in the way we act and behave... Loving our neighbors and laying down our lives for love and friendship, and walking in the grace we have received from Him. Forgiving. Extending mercy.

It doesn't seem like we are winning our battles with the weapons He instructed us to use...love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness and self-control.
(Not hateful political posts and prideful arguments.)

He said he would pour out his spirit on ALL flesh...not just Americans.

I hear the cry, "Bring America back to our foundation! God loves America! We founded America on Godly principles!" 

Tell that to the native people we uprooted out of their land, and slaughtered in the name of our God.
But now we hate and fear Muslims...because they are radical extremists who kill and uproot in the name of Allah, their God...

It makes me think maybe America wasn't founded on the godliness of man or godly principals.
Maybe instead, it was founded on the great grace of God.
Maybe we can't take any credit or hold ourselves up as better than the other nations.
Maybe we can only marvel at a God who would allow us to be blessed and to prosper in spite of our horrible acts and deeds.

And maybe we can emulate God by extending this same grace and love to other confused religious people who also have gross misconceptions of God, and who are committing the same sort of violence toward us...that we committed toward the native people, and African people we kidnapped against their will and brought to..."America, the beautiful".

Maybe it isn't "us vs them" at all. Maybe we have more in common than we think? Maybe God's grace is the very thing that ties all of us together.

 Maybe God is less worried about our politics, and more focused on how His children are behaving toward each other. Maybe His focus isn't on if we are Republican or Democrat. Maybe his focus is on how well we are growing in love...

And maybe, just maybe, we could be a generation who stands up to bullying and name-calling and hate speak toward people with whom we may disagree.
What if we learned how to debate without hate? What if we could have conversations without cursing people?
Maybe we could set a new standard, a truly godly standard, and show the next generation what Jesus really looks like.

Love Covers

Adam said to God, "...I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid myself."

And God said, "Who told you that you were naked?"

Then God made them garments to cover their nakedness. 

Love covers fear.

Noah got drunk and was found by his own son, naked in his tent. Ham wanted to capitalize on his drunken nakedness. He rejoiced in seeing that is father wasn't perfect. He was trying to lessen his own shortcomings by exposing his father's.

We try to expose the nakedness of others because we are ashamed of our own.

But Shem and Japheth took a garment and laid it across their shoulders; then they walked in backward and covered their father's naked body. Their faces were turned the other way so that they would not see their father naked.

Love covers shame. 

Love endured beatings. He endured mocking. He went to a cross like a criminal, but He had done no wrong. 

Love held His tongue. 

Love didn't accuse. 

Love didn't expose. 

Love bled.

Love covered us. Love covers us now.

Because our fear and shame have been covered by love...we no longer have to expose the nakedness of others...to take the focus off of our own.

Because we are no longer naked, and no longer ashamed...we can cover others...with love.





 

Tragedy

There have been a number of newsworthy tragedies the past few weeks.

There was the death of that poor gorilla...shot to protect the naughty boy. The boy whose horrible parents didn't watch him properly. 
That never would have happened to my kids because I was a perfect parent. Those people should be punished for their negligence...All stupid parents should be punished!

Then there was the story about the rape of that young woman. The rapist was given such a light sentence! That guy should rot in prison! I can't believe he did that! I partied in college but I would never have raped anybody! Lock him up for life!
Well, that girl was partly at fault. I mean, she shouldn't have gotten so drunk that she passed out. She was practically asking to be assaulted.
I would never have put myself in that situation. I'm glad I'm not that stupid.

Did you hear the latest? 50 people dead, and 53 injured. By that Muslim who may or may not have ties to ISIS. We can all agree that this was tragic!
Wait...or can we?
"Yeah, what a tragedy"...but secretly we know it doesn't affect us that much because, after all, the people killed and injured were "gay". 
It was awful...but at least I'm way better than those gay people...Those sinners.

Let's talk about the guy who shot all of those people. We can't cry out for his blood, because he's already dead. But we can call for the blood of other Muslims. Because they are all evil.
Well, they are! They're killing people whom they deem sinful...Christians, gays, Americans...for no reason! And all in the name of Allah, their God! They are trying to defend their God's laws by killing those who break them! Ridiculous!! Who are they to judge us?

We should all be carrying guns and shooting them, before they have a chance to shoot us! They have such a warped idea of who God really is! They deserve to die! It's us or them, people! That's right. Protect myself at all costs. It's me and mine first. I'm right. They're wrong. I'm good. They're bad. I"m smart. They're stupid. Besides, we've got to defend God, the real God...the God of love...and mercy...and grace.  Right?

We try to keep ourselves "safe" by setting ourselves above those to whom bad things happen, thus explaining it away. They were stupid. They were careless. They somehow deserved it.
And then we particularly remind ourselves how far we are above the people, those people, who do bad things. We are especially better than them! They are stupid and evil...and sinful.


Life is often tragic. I believe that nothing escape God's sight. I believe He weeps over every tragedy.
But the news spotlights certain events to keep their viewers riled up. And to give us something to argue about over social media. Ultimately, it helps to keep us pitted against each other. 

And this, my friends, just might be one of the greatest tragedies of all...

Church is Like Middle School

(excerpt from The Popeye Chronicles: Becoming my I am)

Church can often hinder us from becoming our "I am" because...let's face it...Church is like middle school. I love church. I love worshiping with the saints! But if I'm not careful, it can become a place for fitting in...doing things "right"...and other traps that hinder me from being my true self.

This last year of my life has been one of the hardest in terms of my "Christianity" because I have not belonged to a church. We moved to a new state, and just haven't found a place that feels like home. I have been without the safety net of "belonging". I have been made painfully aware of how much I want to fit in. I feel out of place without my people...I feel very "different". As we visit various churches, it seems I don't really fit anywhere here.

Remember the comfort of having your own group in middle school? Remember how relieved you were in the lunchroom when you found your friends, when you found the group where you felt you belonged? If you're female, you probably all dressed alike, even shared your clothes. You liked the same music, boys, and fast food. Rarely did you voice a differing opinion. It was "safe" to follow the group. It brought you a lot of security. And I'm not saying it was a bad thing.

But this past year has made me aware of how much of my comfort and security came from "belonging" to a church. I was around people who worshiped the same way I was comfortable worshiping, and who believed things that I also believed about God and His Kingdom. Sometimes in that security, the fear of being "different" threatened my I am.

Have you ever noticed how "alike" church bodies are, yet how different from the others? There are groups who prefer to dress up on Sunday mornings, and some who choose jeans-casual. There are some who raise hands in worship. Some who don't. There are groups who dance and get rowdy, and some who hardly sing.
Are you catching a theme here? But within each church, there are few who dare to show their own individuality...either that, or the "different" choose to go someplace with more of their kind.

It's like it was in middle school. We gravitate to the people most like us. We don't want to stand out. We don't want to be different. We don't want to wear jeans to the dress-up church. We don't want to raise our hands if nobody else is. We don't use our prayer language if it is frowned upon. We try so hard to fit in that we often lose our own essence, the very essence of God in us. Our I am. 

I don't want to make waves.

Could God be in this season? Am I right where I'm supposed to be?

What am I learning? God is my home. He is where I fit. And if I am looking for acceptance from any group of people, I am going back to middle school...

God is solidifying me even more deeply in my I am. 

I might be a wave pool in a park full of lap pools, but that is how He made me. He doesn't need or want me to be anyone but me. This is my gift to Him. 

 

The great I AM lives in me. He expresses part of Himself that can only be expressed through my own unique self...my I am.

My Church

These ladies are my Sistas. Aren't we cute? I hesitate sharing pictures of us together, because inevitably it hurts the feelings of other Sistas whom we love, who end up feeling left out or excluded when the seven of us get together.

But the thing is, we seven have a very deep bond that hasn't happen overnight. It happened over years and years of walking together, even when we have moved miles apart. We text, email and call each other daily. We are vulnerable with each other. We share our fears, failures and weaknesses freely...because we are safe. But the thing is...relationships on this level take work! They really do! They require openness. They require time. They require commitment. They require grace. These kinds of relationships are not something that we can ever take lightly. I cherish every one of these ladies. I trust them with my heart.

We have walked with each other through everything imaginable. We have cried with each other, laughed with each other, danced with each other, and laughed-till-we-cried with each other. We have prayed ourselves and our families through divorce, marriage, death, birth, addiction, jail, danger, accidents, surgeries...you name it, we've held each others arms up through it. We have grown to truly love our Sistas' families as our own, even those whom we don't know well or haven't even met. It is quite amazing, really.

We're the kind of group who knows we can call each other any time in the day or night and find the love and prayers needed in that moment. We are available for each other. We not only listen to the stories of others, we find the courage to share our own. We have been through too much to be fake. We have sat in our pajamas together in the morning, looking our worst...and attending weddings together in our Sunday best. It doesn't matter! Because after all of these years, we no longer see our outsides...we are too focused on our hearts.

The growth experienced in a group like this is incomparable to anything one might experience in a corporate church setting once or twice a week. In fact, our growth happened when this group began to realize that there was so much more to God and His Kingdom...and we wanted it all. We stood together when manifestations of the Spirit began to mess up our paradigm. We learned to love everything that God has to offer us. We have washed feet and wiped tears and massaged shoulders and laid awake at night listening to each other snoring. I have learned more about God from each of these ladies than a lifetime of Bible teachings and note-taking could have taught me.

We have walked through life together arm in arm, loving each other...warts and all. Instead of picking at the warts we see on each other until they bleed...we applied the balm of love and watched them heal. We've been patient, kind, gentle, and grace-full. It is a sisterhood indeed.

The older I get, the more I realize that God puts people together to share life with each other, because this is our purpose. This is how we discover the riches of His Kingdom.

So, I share this picture apologetically. The relationship I have with these Sistas doesn't diminish those that I have with other Sistas...it only enriches them, and every other relationship I have in my life.
This is my family. This is my church.

A Lotta Do Do

It crept in quietly while we weren't paying attention, sneaking in to our lives and changing everything. Just two little letters have infused our language while we weren't paying attention. This language we used to speak. But we don't speak a language anymore. We "do" English.

Just like we don't play sports, we "do" basketball, or we "do" football. "How is your son?" "Oh, he's good...he's doing baseball this year. Last year he did football, but now he wants to do baseball." (This is a conversation I overheard while waiting at the dentist yesterday.

"Are you gonna do dinner tonight, or are we going out?"

We used to paint. Now we "do" art.

I used to clean house, now I "do" my cleaning.

Music used to be played and practiced, but now we "do" music.

Do do!! It's everywhere! Now that I've pointed it out, you will notice it too.

Just a subtle change...just two little letters.

I am not sure it matters. I know I can't stop it any more than I can stop myself from wondering how it got in? When did everything change? When did "do" take over?

It's just something that I find myself pondering. Yep, that's me. I do pondering. This is what happens when a person has way too much time on her hands. Oh well, what's a woman to do?

Easter

Growing up, I never went to church. I didn't learn Bible stories or sing the sweet songs that sweet little children sing in sweet little classes.

But this sweet little girl talked to God. I ended each day, in my little twin bed, praying, "Now I lay me down to sleep..." And my "God blesses" included every family member right down to the dog.

I learned of baby Jesus in the Christmas Carols I sang with my sister. My heart was touched by "Away in a manger" and I understood how the Little Drummer Boy gave the very best gift. I loved the story of this special little baby Jesus, who came in love. But, I never knew the rest of the story.

The story of how He went from her womb...to a tomb. 
I didn't know about the Man the boy became. 
I didn't hear how He went to that tree...in Calvary...for me.

I never learned what went down in that little town. 
Nor did I hear about the thorny crown that He wore while being mocked and put down...whipped and beaten...never making a sound in his own defense.

And when we cried out for His blood...
he gave it willingly...
for you...
and me...
on that tree.

'Til morning dawned, and it dawned on us what we had done...we had killed God's Son. 
He really was the One! 
We thought it was over, 
and we wept..in gloom...at the tomb.

But just when regret was a threat to our sanity, 
for all of humanity
the story continued...into the grand finale.

This dead man, the one who had grown up among us, 
our friend and our brother, 
who lived and died...
walked out of the tomb, fully alive!

And it was then...when I heard this story and met the Man this baby had become...that I began to live.

No, the story doesn't end with sweet baby Jesus.

There are many stories in the world. So many beautiful stories about love, and heroes, and good winning against evil.
But this story...the story of the Man...who came, and loved, and healed, and lived against all odds...this story rises above all other stories, and has a life of its own.

And today, just the mention of His name still offends.

Even as a sweet baby, He offended our sensibilities. One leader set out to kill him, killing every child just to try and make sure Jesus didn't grow up...and become the Man.
Because he knew...just like we do...and he feared Him...just like us.

People talk about "Sweet Baby Jesus". We aren't that bothered by the story of the baby in the manger...we still sing the Carols, never looking beyond the baby...and the fa la las...to the Cross.

But at Easter, well...this particular time of remembrance is not as easy to ignore.
So...determined...we try to cover up the brutality of His death by focusing on eggs...and chocolate bunnies...and baby chicks...isn't it funny?

No, not funny...just proof that the One who offended hundreds of years ago still has that same power.

Because He is alive. Today. And tomorrow.
He came for me. 
He lived to show me what living looks like.

See, a memory doesn't have that much power. A good story is quickly forgotten. A legend doesn't stir up this kind of emotion...and hate.

But Love...well, Love is the power.
Love...given to someone we deem undeserving.
Love...that chooses to remain silent in the face of all accusations.
Love...that touches the untouchables in a society lacking compassion.
Love...that loves both the hero and the villain.

Love...came in a little baby...and grew into a perfect man. Love lives on.

This kind of Love can never die. It will continue to be resurrected in the hearts and lives of each woman and man who chooses to accept it. And even amidst the distractions...and chocolate bunnies... the story continues...forever.

Happy Easter to you all!!!

i just wanna blog about it

it was just another regular rainy day. i went to safeway because i have been out of creamer and even tho i know how healthy coconut oil is, i want some damn cream in my one cup of coffee a day. but heres where things went all twilight zone on me. on the way home i realized that i had forgotten the freakin creamer. so i stopped at another discount market near my house to grab some but the expiration date was like tomorrow. i decided to continue on in search of another little store which i found in a couple of blocks. i had never been in this place plastered in beer and cigarette ads...but figured it would be an adventure. i really did have that thought as i walked inside. i held the door for a woman and man behind me, and she thanked me. i located the dairy section, finally, most of the refrigerated cases were filled with other beverages. sadly, their cream had the same date as the last place. i turned to leave not noticing the beer cases on the floor behind me that must have been waiting to be stocked...my foot caught on one and i was down...with beer cans rolling around me.

if you havent fallen as a 'mature' person, it is quite shocking how you dont bounce right back up like you used to. i felt many body parts screaming in pain. must have sat there about 30 seconds, which in this situation seems like an hour. i heard someone from the front of the store say, 'hey, i think someone just fell back there...' soon after he was by me, asking if i was ok. i said not really. he asked what happened. i said i'd tripped over those beer cases. he asked if i needed help up. at this point i recognized him as the guy with the woman i had held the door for. and next to me, with his back to me, was an asian man picking up beer cans.

i managed to stand, and as i made my way out of the store with my throbbing body parts i noticed the asian woman behind the counter staring at me, and the woman standing there as well.

in my car i notice i cant hold the steering wheel without excruciating pain in my left wrist. it began to swell in two places and ice wasn't helping.

hubby comes home and we are off for x-rays. but i am still in this outer limits dimension where nothing is 'normal'...we go to a little clinic here in this little town after hubby called to see if they could x-ray. they could, but not well. i guess the first 3 doses of radiation weren't enough...the gal who took them was 'learning' so a new gal had to take four more. it really didnt do much good tho, because nobody there could read them. so after they all consulted with each other, 'is it broken? i can't tell for sure' they decided to send the x-rays to a radiologist. meanwhile, they put my wrist (actually whole forearm and thumb) in a hard splint which took two of them arguing over it to accomplish.

they are supposed to call today or tomorrow with the x-ray findings from the radiologist. no, i did not make the return in a week appointment. if it is broken i will get some plaster of paris and make my own damn cast. i doubt it could be any worse.

so now you know why i'm typing with one hand. i am just glad i made it out of the alternative dimension alive. i would sure love a cup of coffee...but i still dont have any creamer.

Sink Hole

It came out of nowhere. Like some sort of sink hole. One minute the road was there and the next she was plummeting into deep darkness. She wasn't expecting it...there was no warning sign. It was cold and dark. The bottom of the hole was covered in muck and mud. She was shocked at first. How did she get in here? How does she get out? Clawing at the sides to try and climb out might work. But she ached all over. She felt so very tired. She just didn't have the strength to try.

So she lay there in the rotten soil, while the mud-slinger threw more and more accusations at her. More lies,  more mud. "You're worthless." "You loser." "You don't matter." "Just give up. "You are all alone after all."

Somewhere within her, she knew that if she agreed with the lies, the mud would overtake her. For she knew the truth. She just wasn't able to believe it...here...in this moment...in the darkness at the bottom of the hole.

Feeling overwhelmed, she cried, "Where are You? Don't You see me here? Don't You hear me?"

She felt as as if the One she loved truly had left her alone, here in the darkness. Wait. She knew that wasn't true. He would never leave her alone. But still...she felt so alone...maybe she was...after all.

Hours passed. Even days. She awoke from a fitful sleep, and realized her people must be missing her. Maybe they could help her. She could hear faint voices coming from the top of the sink hole. They called to her. "Hang on! Remember who you are! Remember who He is! Don't forget your song!!"

Song? Yes, she used to have a song! She used to sing her song with her people. They knew it almost as well as she did. If only she could remember. She opened her mouth, but no song came out. No, she was alone...in this underground cave of darkness. There is no song in this place.
She drifted off again. She dreamed the dreams of one who wants to fight but has lost her strength.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she felt something shift. She knew they were singing. Though she couldn't hear it...she sensed it. Somewhere above, in the light, there was a song. It was strong and familiar, and comforting to her. She continued to rest. She felt the muck underneath her beginning to disappear and she could feel herself being lifted up. She awakened, and tried to get out at that point, but she wasn't yet able. So she relaxed in the warm air. Peace came upon her as she felt herself floating to the surface...up, up, and out of the hole. She was safe again in strong, familiar arms. He had been there all along! She just couldn't feel Him...in the darkness...surrounded by the mud.

She opened her mouth and began to join in the singing. But what came out was different...

It's so beautiful! She has a new song! These notes have never been heard before. And in that moment she realizes that this kind of song can only be written from the bottom of a deep, dark hole.
Now she feels Him again. She sees Him smiling at her, for her song is lovely...

It is a sacred song, with sacred notes. A song that will one day be sung by her, while sitting on the edge...
and heard from the depths by another, lifting her up and out of the darkness...

Beautiful Progression

There is a moment when I am invited to follow.  I hear Him, and I say "Yes" to the invitation. The Son of God, Son of Man is revealed to me, and I'm aware of the reality of Him.
Thus begins the beautiful progression.

I follow Him. I learn from His teachings. I learn from His ways. I step out...out of everything I once thought was important. Like a toddler, I learn to walk.
I worship Him in His beauty.

There are some around me who fear Him. They watch, like Zacchaeus, from afar. Hiding in a tree. Curious. But unsure. Could this Man really be welcoming me? Is He calling me? Is He good?

I see them hiding, but I can trust that He'll find them. He will call their name just as He called mine, and in that moment all resistance will cease. They too, will begin their journey.

So...I continue to follow Him. I am healed. I see others healed. I am in awe. I don't yet understand much, but I am captured by His acceptance of me. He knows me, yet He wants me.
Again, I worship.

The time comes when He invites me to dinner. He tells me He just wants to relax...to recline with me around the table. He wants to know me. Sharing food, wine...laughter, I marvel at this Man.
"He wants to be my friend! How can this be? He likes me!!" I am overcome with laughter.
I sing songs of joy.

Then at one of these intimate meals, He says He wants to serve me. "What? NO!! You can't wash my feet! I am unworthy! I cannot just sit here and receive from You! I should be serving YOU!!" But He insists. "You must allow me to show you what My Kingdom looks like. You must be willing to receive from me, for it is a needed thing. This is what relationship looks like."
In that moment, intimacy with Him grows. He is no longer above me, He is with me. I fall in love with this Man...
While He sings over me.

He begins to speak to me of things I cannot grasp. He is preparing me, but I do not understand.

Until that day...that dark day...when it seems that my Friend has left me. I can no longer see Him. I cannot find Him. It has become so dark. I am grieving. I feel betrayed. I cry out in the darkness, and seem to get no response. At this point, some others have returned home, going back to their old lives. I become so discouraged that the memory of Him seems to taunt me, "Where is your Friend now?" I feel foolish and alone. I am angry.
He was not good after all.
My song becomes a dirge.

Three dark days...

But...I will not waiver in my love. I can not. I learn that once love is awakened, it cannot die. I don't know what is going on. I feel the darkness. I miss His touch. I miss His voice. Why has He left me all alone?
I dry my tears. I can do nothing else but worship...for He has captured my heart. I am determined to minister to Him even in death.
I continue to worship, hoping to see Him. Hoping to catch even a glimpse of Him in the midst of the darkness...in the midst of my tears.

Time stands still. I am overwhelmed in my sorrow. I feel consumed by my suffering.
I worship through my tears.

I believe this was His death...when all along it was mine.

Then the light dawns.

The morning breaks through.
He is alive! He is here!! He has never left me!
He was only doing what had to be done in order to rescue me!
Even in the darkness, He was working good for me!

He seeks me out to show me His wounds. I show Him my own, and He kisses them with His tears.
We are united in our suffering. We are broken, yet together we are whole.

Joy wells up in me. I now understand the great mystery!
He lives! He is good! He will never abandon us! He will never leave us! He is there, even in the darkness, working good on our behalf!! He is ALIVE!!

I cannot wait to go and tell the others. For they must know the mystery...I survived the darkest of days and I live to tell about it! Because He IS good!! He really is!!!

I am beautiful...I am wanted...I am loved.
You are too.
And I am forever changed.
You can be too.
He really is good. 

You Are Not Alone

I was walking out of Safeway, putting my bags into the car, and I heard behind me "Excuse me, Ma'am?"

You've all heard it. And you've probably felt annoyed like I sometimes have, because you know what is coming next. But thank You, Jesus, I didn't cringe! I wasn't annoyed! I didn't feel like I was in a huge hurry to get out of there! I turned around.

 "I hate asking, but do you have maybe $3?"

"I really don't have any cash." (My usual and totally honest response because I never do. Have cash.)

And there he stood. And I looked at him. Then I really looked at him.

"What did you need the money for?"
"I was just gonna get some coffee. And maybe a cup of noodles. This is really embarrassing."

Well, that was it for me. I closed my car door and told him, "Come on. Come with me. We'll go inside and get you something to eat."
"Oh wow, Ma'am (I should have told him to stop calling me that!!) thank you so much. I am so embarrassed to be asking."
"No problem. So, how about a sandwich?" I pointed to a deli case full of already made sandwiches. He just grabbed the top one, not even looking at what kind it was. "This is great, thanks so much."
"You're welcome. OK, let's go pay for it and then I'll get you a cup of coffee."

I payed for the sandwich, he stood behind me. I could feel the shame emanating off of his cigarette reeking jacket.

We walked to the Starbuck's stand. I asked what he wanted while the man in front of me ordered. He said just a black coffee would be great. Black coffee it is. "Thank you. Thanks so much."

Then the difficult moment outside the store, when this Mommy/Nonny's heart was aching to hug him.
"So, what's going on? Are you OK?"
"Well, I got kicked out of my place...again. And I've been trying to get into this manufacturing job. But right now I'm sleeping outside. It's...embarrassing." I said "Hey, we've all been there...needing help." He started to cry. I walked over to the side a little so people wouldn't see his tears. After all, he had enough shame to last a lifetime.

What can I do? It wouldn't be wise to bring him home since hubby's working today. Lord?? Ask him his name. "What's your name?" "Dwayne." "Well, I can tell you that I have had family members who were in your predicament, homeless and hopeless. And they are both doing great now."

And I looked into those eyes, pooled with tears, and I said "And I can tell you, you are not alone. You. are. not. alone. I will pray for you just like I prayed for my family members. Don't lose hope. You will come out of this."

Oh man, I just wanna hug him but I resist.
"Thank you, Ma'am. And thanks for this" as he holds up his sandwich and cup.
I squeeze his arm with all the love that would have been in that hug, and tell him "You are welcome."

A Snot-nosed Kingdom

While asking the Lord what is on His heart this morning, immediately He reminded me of the people who brought the little children to Him, and how the disciples rebuked them. The disciples of Jesus, who had been walking with Him but did not yet know Him. They did not know His heart. They saw Him as being above it all, in His perfection...maybe like some aloof king...or the Pope even. They figured He couldn't be bothered with little children and all of their messy diapers and runny noses. "Oh no! Keep those kids away from Jesus!! Don't offend Him!"

But Jesus quickly set them straight. He told the disciples who were trying to protect Him..."Hey, guys...let the little children come to me..." And even went further, saying "The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these." And then He proceeded to lay His hands on their little heads and pray for them! The whole group had to wait and watch while He ministered His love to these little ones. And they didn't move on until He was done. ("When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there.") How annoying! They were following Jesus, listening to Him preach like they had never heard a preacher before, and the whole thing was put on hold so that he could spend time with some rug rats. Hmmmph!!

I realized how very much this does not sound like our gatherings today. We have visited a LOT of churches up here, and in every one we went to, the kids are left at the door of the nursery or classroom upon entering the building. Why is that? What has happened? I have heard countless stories from elder family members about how they had to behave in church, how as they grew older, they began to be touched by the songs and the music...even some who answered an alter call at a young age. So why are we now forcing the children out of our midst?

Well, I think for one thing...children are messy. They are noisy. Their poopy diapers are stinky. And our church services have become so slick and well-orchestrated that we just don't have room for such distractions. Yet, what is God's heart? Well, Jesus told us if we have seen Him then we have seen God. And He made it very clear how He felt about little ones.

Life is messy. Love is messy. Verrrrrry messy. And we need children around us to remind us of this fact. We can't orchestrate life like we try to orchestrate our Sunday services...perfect music, perfectly timed offering, and perfect sermon. Life is perfectly messy. God creates out of chaos, not man-made perfection. What we perceive as perfection must be quite amusing to Him!

Anyway...this is what God showed me was on His heart this morning. Maybe we need to listen. Maybe 2016 is a year of honoring the little souls who are so honored by our Lord. Maybe it's time to allow them to dance and sing off-key, and minister in our gatherings. We say "there's no such thing as a junior Holy Spirit" but do we really believe it? Maybe we have a lot to learn about God's Kingdom from them.