tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83076876903854377202024-03-12T19:26:07.691-05:00Whispering HopeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.comBlogger78125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-8719148013154905812015-04-15T00:05:00.004-05:002015-04-15T00:23:03.145-05:00GOD'S POETRY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rEnT46yUFTE/VS3gRhEHzUI/AAAAAAAAA3M/hSPUXLH373I/s1600/DRI%2B041415_Paula.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rEnT46yUFTE/VS3gRhEHzUI/AAAAAAAAA3M/hSPUXLH373I/s1600/DRI%2B041415_Paula.jpeg" height="320" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Me and sweet Paula at DRI's monthly Worship service</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I almost didn't go... Breath came hard, my head ached, and my spirit was downcast. But at the last minute, I decided I could both support Chad as he spoke to the crowd and share in the joyful spirit that always abounds there at <a href="http://www.driabilene.org/">Disability Resources, Inc</a>. I didn't realize how much I needed them this night. Sometime we think it's them who need us. But just as Chad affirmed, each one who resides here is a masterpiece--God's poetry-- lovingly created for a special purpose. And no one who ever comes to worship here can deny the love that envelops each guest when we walk into the room--a room set apart once a month for worship. This same room with all the unique and beautiful souls inside on any day, every day for ANY purpose--this room IS worship to the utmost.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Um3jCNYBgK8/VS3gd8zgE8I/AAAAAAAAA3U/GXUIClELEkM/s1600/DRI%2B041415_Chad.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Um3jCNYBgK8/VS3gd8zgE8I/AAAAAAAAA3U/GXUIClELEkM/s1600/DRI%2B041415_Chad.jpeg" height="320" width="218" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Chad sharing Ephesians 2:10 tonight</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> The walls and projector screen were adorned with the beautiful artistic masterpieces created by the hands and the hearts of the residents and clients. I wish I had taken pictures but I was so enraptured with the people and God's presence, I just didn't think... The vivid colors and creativity brightly reflected God's glory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> My own soul won't soon forget the words Ian wrote himself and sang to us tonight: "Even now You are the refuge in the storm..." I fought back tears. How I needed to be reminded! Sometimes we think we are the ones to help them learn, but how often they already know with certainty the deepest truths of God. Yet those of us living outside the perimeters of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources?fref=nf">DRI</a>'s grounds sometimes struggle so hard to hold on to those same truths. They teach us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> The choir led the worshippers: "Here I am to worship. Here I am to bow down. Here I am to say that You're my God..." Their beaming smiles would have shown us even without words. In that moment, all in one accord, we knew the Light of the World had stepped out of the darkness to shine His grace into that room. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Near the end, Brandon stepped up to the mic and read the Scripture benediction. I remembered when I first met him as a volunteer on a bowling outing. I asked about him then--he was so quiet amidst all the rowdy play that day. Tonight, he spoke with such confidence, his words speaking hope to all who listened. THIS is God's handiwork.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I was undone in the beauty of it all, my heart full as I shared a few hugs and offered some positive words to these amazing people--my friends. And then, in the next moment, Paula asked if she could pray for me...for me. She took my hands, bowed her head in prayer, and I knew... God brought me here this night--I didn't "decide." He reached down to touch my broken spirit through this beautiful sweet lady and all the others with so many of their own struggles, and left His fingerprints as, in her prayer, she lived in the purpose God has given her. God's divine poetry indeed...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yJlKC8HtiRU/VS3hpjgYK8I/AAAAAAAAA3k/dN20pWZKPZE/s1600/DRI%2B070114_Group%2Bpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yJlKC8HtiRU/VS3hpjgYK8I/AAAAAAAAA3k/dN20pWZKPZE/s1600/DRI%2B070114_Group%2Bpic.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The beautiful people of DRI in 2014... Photo credit to: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources">Disability Resources, Inc.</a></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l4YSXR4B8zM/VS3hp_-AZHI/AAAAAAAAA3o/x5_LUSRb2jQ/s1600/DRI%2B081414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l4YSXR4B8zM/VS3hp_-AZHI/AAAAAAAAA3o/x5_LUSRb2jQ/s1600/DRI%2B081414.jpg" height="155" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Photo credit to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources">Disability Resources, Inc.</a></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ehBtdU33gpA/VS3hpNgwSbI/AAAAAAAAA3g/p7JJ0LtTbXI/s1600/DRI%2B081414_Grounds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ehBtdU33gpA/VS3hpNgwSbI/AAAAAAAAA3g/p7JJ0LtTbXI/s1600/DRI%2B081414_Grounds.jpg" height="63" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Photo credit to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources">Disability Resources, Inc.</a><br /><br />Disability Resources, Inc. is an AMAZING place dedicated to the lives of people with special needs. The residents and clients are able to live joyful, purposeful lives because of what happens here. I wish there were more places just like them all over the world. Without a doubt, love abides here. The joy that fills this place is infectious to anyone that comes within arm's reach. To find out more about them, to volunteer, or donate, please go to<a href="http://www.driabilene.org/"> www.driabilene.org</a> or check out their <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources">Facebook</a> page.<br /><br />If you aren't near Abilene TX to volunteer, there are most likely similar places wherever you are which are in need of compassionate and joyful hearts to give the gift of their time to their residents and clients. Or if there is no such facility, volunteer with Special Olympics in your area. You will undoubtedly be blessed.</i><br />
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<i><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-shihlRmJurs/VS3kJbiqBfI/AAAAAAAAA4E/CRzWTaiu9Ro/s1600/DRI%2B050514_Olympic%2Bwinners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-shihlRmJurs/VS3kJbiqBfI/AAAAAAAAA4E/CRzWTaiu9Ro/s1600/DRI%2B050514_Olympic%2Bwinners.jpg" height="320" width="283" /></a></i></div>
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Only a few of the winners at the 2014 Special Olympics.</div>
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Photo Credit: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources">DRI</a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuWIdZp2pMo/VS3kK7hIqtI/AAAAAAAAA4U/oqYcb_KIyqw/s1600/DRI%2B050514_Special%2BOlympics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuWIdZp2pMo/VS3kK7hIqtI/AAAAAAAAA4U/oqYcb_KIyqw/s1600/DRI%2B050514_Special%2BOlympics.jpg" height="264" width="320" /></a></div>
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Some of the guys at 2014 Special Olympics. Photo Credit:<a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources"> DRI</a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3LMKRN078qM/VS3kJZnbW7I/AAAAAAAAA4A/TFDX8bAi1IY/s1600/DRI%2B050414_Special%2BOlympics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3LMKRN078qM/VS3kJZnbW7I/AAAAAAAAA4A/TFDX8bAi1IY/s1600/DRI%2B050414_Special%2BOlympics.jpg" height="133" width="320" /></a></div>
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2014 Special Olympics...Running the race (Hebrews 12:1)</div>
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Photo Credit: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources">DRI</a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FN1E7xb4zEs/VS3kKtY0MZI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/XSKhO7TDwC8/s1600/DRI%2B101314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FN1E7xb4zEs/VS3kKtY0MZI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/XSKhO7TDwC8/s1600/DRI%2B101314.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
The DRI Bell Choir rehearses for hours to reach perfection.<br />Makes your heart soar to hear them.<br />Photo Credit: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisabilityResources">DRI</a><br /><br /><br /><br /></i></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-35907086026328226882014-01-25T03:46:00.001-06:002014-01-25T13:30:54.796-06:00FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY: THE VISIT<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Linking up with <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/2014/01/five-minute-friday-visit/">Lisa Jo</a> today. Five minutes of writing. Prompt word: VISIT.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I sat in tears in the floor of my virtually empty house, contemplating my final end. Deep despair had become my constant companion. Today was the day. The plan had been set. With journal in my lap and pen in my hand, I began to write a letter trying to explain, trying to tell my children not to give up even though I had. To tell them to hold on to hope even when I couldn't. My letter became a prayer. Desperate to feel His presence one more time, my Bible lay beside me. Still He hadn't come and I gave up waiting. It was time. I bent low, wracked in sobs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> The air was still and hot but the smallest breeze swept through picking up the pages of the bible beside me. I don't know why but I looked where they landed:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. (1 Kings 19:11-13)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A gentle whisper... A breeze... He was here. I couldn't deny His arrival. He heard me--He WANTED me. Finally, HOPE had come to visit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>To them God has chosen to make known...the glorious riches of this mystery, which is CHRIST IN YOU, the HOPE of glory. (Colossians 1:27)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">STOP. FIVE MINUTES UP.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Extra note:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Depression is real. And ANY person can suffer from it. Even good Christians. Whether situational, hormonal, a chemical imbalance, or whatever causes it, depression can invade a life so completely that hope can't co-exist with it. And we can't just pray it away as some might advise. Overcoming it takes prayer, but also work, counseling, trust, and a willingness to look at our lives through a different lens.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> This incident was real. It was a Sunday morning just over ten years ago. and though my five minute for the prompt are over, I still feel I should tell you the rest of the story. I had a specific plan, a specific place where no one would find me for awhile, the right tools to carry it out, and a goodbye letter written. My marriage was over, my family was gone (I thought), and all I seemed to do was make everything worse for everybody. I was ready. Even now, I still struggle to say the word out loud or to type it in reference to myself, but I was certain suicide was the answer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> But then He showed up in a breeze--a small whisper. He pointed me directly to the story of Elijah in the midst of his own despair. I couldn't deny God's presence in that moment though I was still confused and broken. I didn't know what else to do with myself after I read the scripture so I decided to walk to church a few blocks away. I arrived just as the pastor stood up to preach. Strangely, he said tha he really fel God leading him to take a step back, to just be quiet. Instead, he asked the band to continue to play and sing while God spoke to the hearts of the people there. Neither he nor the band had any idea what I'd been thinking or planning. Yet the band sang a song written by one of their members about the love of a Shepherd in search of His lost sheep. Tears rolled down my cheeks, as I realized He was STILL whispering, STILL searching for me--His lost sheep. Someone tried to speak to me--to pray for me but I ran away. It was more than I could handle. But the Shepherd's tender whisper remained with me. Though I still had a long journey full of twists and turns to get to the point of healing, that moment in the floor of my empty house was the dawn of HOPE--Christ IN me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> A moment experienced over ten years ago, and I still remember it so very clearly. It was a beginning. Today, I can say with assurance that I'm daring to live again--to enjoy life and REALLY live. Oh, I still have my dark days. I still get overwhelmed but those dark moments are fewer and less oppressive. I have to work at it. I live with major depressive disorder, BUT God still whispers and I hold on to hope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> If you struggle with depression or if thoughts of suicide enter your mind, please get help. Suicide is NOT the answer. Talk to a friend--even one friend. Or maybe even a stranger. Call a suicide hotline. Seek out a Christian counselor--and don't give up if the first one you see isn't the right one for you. Go to a mental health specialist or your own physician and get medication if you need it. Do SOME thing to help yourself. And don't deny your feelings just to make everyone else more comfortable--that only makes your despair deeper. And most of all, I pray that you seek the Shepherd. He's seeking you too. WAIT for Him. He will whisper to your heart too. Hope WILL come.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-12333876120282935662013-07-03T01:34:00.000-05:002013-07-03T09:35:44.108-05:00ON MY KNEES<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-align: center;">
<span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">Come, let us worship and bow down.</span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: "CAC Pinafore"; font-size: 16.0pt; font-style: italic; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "CAC Pinafore"; mso-default-font-family: "CAC Pinafore"; mso-latin-font-family: "CAC Pinafore"; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></div>
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<span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">Let us kneel before the Lord our maker,” - Psalm 95:6<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Around the room, each one of these women of hope, was on her knees in prayer. I had asked each one to picture herself literally kneeling at the feet of the King who had given her life...who had crowned her with grace. And I knew without a doubt that Your presence was so very real and so very "big" in that moment as each one brought her needs, her gratitude, and her worship to You in their quietness. Through the words of the song playing in the background, Your voice beckoned each heart, "Beloved. . . Love of My life, look in My eyes. There you will find what you need. . ." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I couldn't help but remember all those stories of those strong, courageous, broken women who fell on their knees before You when You walked among us. I remember the bleeding woman who fell on her knees, content just to touch the hem of Your garment. You restored not only her health but also her soul and her place in society. The "sinful woman" fell at your feet as she poured perfume over your feet and dried them with her grateful tears. You saw her contrite heart and gave her forgiveness. The persistent faith-strong Gentile woman humbly fell at Your feet begging for mercy so that You would heal her tormented daughter. "Even the dogs are allowed to eat the scraps. . ." You healed her daughter simply because her faith was so great. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I thought of Mary of Bethany as she sat at your feet hanging on Your every word and as she fell down before You in grief and desperation because You weren't there when her brother died. Little did she know Your glory would soon be revealed when you called Lazarus forth from the grave. With tears, I remember Y</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">our mother Mary as she knelt beside the manger where You lay so sweetly and then again as she knelt before You at the foot of the cross where you died--purely in love and surrender of her precious Son. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I looked again at these women around me kneeling in prayer, some with tears staining their cheeks and some with palms turned upward toward heaven, receiving Your priceless grace. "All of us living all for You," and on our knees, we honor You with open hands and exposed hearts. We imagined You, the King, as You stepped down from Your throne, knelt down beside us, wrapping Your loving arms around us. You came down to meet us right at our very need. . . Oh, the power and sweetness of Your presence. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I know their stories and I've seen how they've grown. My breath catches in my chest in awe of how You work in the lives of those who surrender their lives so completely to You. Breathless, I remember how You have worked in mine, leading me down every byway and restless trail to where I am in this moment. I am utterly and gratefully amazed. In the every day as we come to You in hurried prayer, we forget. But in the beauty of this moment, we realize there's something special about coming to You on our knees. As we kneel down in worship of who You are, You gently lift us up to walk in the purpose You have given. And we are so abundantly blessed and awed by Your beautiful grace. </span><br />
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<span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">"When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father,</span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 10.6559pt; font-style: italic;"><sup> </sup></span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">the Creator of everything in heaven </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 119%;">and on earth. </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 10.6559pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 119%;"><sup> </sup></span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 119%;">I pray that from His glorious, unlimited resources He will empower you with inner strength through His Spirit. </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 10.6559pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 119%;"><sup> </sup></span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: 'CAC Pinafore'; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 119%;">Then Christ will make His home in your hearts as you trust in Him. . ." - Ephesians 3:14-17 </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/annieblogs">Annie Downs</a>, I can't even begin to thank you for sharing your heart through "Perfectly Unique: Praising God from Head to Foot." Though you targeted the hearts of young "girls of grace," you have pierced the hearts of these women of HOPE as we have learned how to glorify God with our bodies from head to toe. The truths you've shared resonate with women of all ages. I'm not sure exactly how God led me to find your book at <a href="http://www.dayspring.com/">Dayspring</a> and to randomly order it. Or for me to stop and read this book among the many among my "to read" stacks. And who would have believed God would choose your book to guide me as I taught these women to purposefully devote each and every part of their bodies to God's glory, except for God's perfectly designed plan. He was leading me to what these women (ages 20's - 70's) needed most. I've never had a series of lesson so tremendously impact these women of HOPE, and we aren't even finished with it yet! Never underestimate the message God has given you. He is using you to reach ALL generations, for we truly are ALL God's Girls of Grace.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Song quoted is "Beloved" by Tenth Avenue North.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-18986134719020506812013-06-21T12:52:00.001-05:002013-06-23T21:32:24.698-05:00FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY: RHYTHM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> We laughed as we reminisced about hula hoops--these Women of Worth from 23-70 years old. Some of us could back "in the day" and some of us couldn't--EVER! Some of us still can!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> And we shared about all the hula hoops we try to keep in the air every day--day after day. We laughed thinking how, in a sense, we swing our hips and gyrate trying to keep all of our invisible hoops spinning and airborne. Not just the physical tasks we have from day to day (like kids, endless errands, family, work, housekeeping, cooking, ministry, bills, etc.) but also those circumstances that encircle our hearts--relationships, stresses, passions, causes, and wounds. The lists could go on and on. It's all so overwhelming and how often it seems they, one by one, warble and wobble and clatter to the ground. And we wonder why we can't be masters of all these "hula hoops" and keep them all spinning. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> And then Joanna Weaver's words caught our attention, "She found a rhythm. . .She established her center, then let everything move around that." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> So we had to ask ourselves, "What or WHO is our center?" Before we start all those hoops spinning from day to day or when they clatter to the ground, do we find our CENTER? It really isn't all about our acrobatics and crazy desperate antics. It's about our center. The One that drives our days... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Christ alone wants to be our Center. HE sets the pace. HE is the force...the rhythm that enables and empowers us to do all that He asks of us each day...and nothing more.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">By the way, my WoW class is studying from Joanna Weaver's "Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World." Our hula hoop discussion was prompted by Chapter 7. For more than 10 years, this book has been on my top 10 list of books that can make a difference if you let it. It's enlightening and empowering for everyone, especially women. A MUST read. And men, I can promise you won't go away empty-handed either.) </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm linking up with Lisa Jo Baker and Five Minute Friday. Won't you join us? Just take five minutes and simply write about her word prompt for today--no editing. Today our word is "RHYTHM."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-68370918626410912062013-05-25T00:07:00.002-05:002013-05-25T00:35:59.990-05:00FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY: VIEW<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Linking up with Lisa Jo today for <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/2013/05/five-minute-friday-view/">Five Minute Friday</a>...The prompt is "VIEW."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I got new glasses this past week. And as much as I NEED my synthetic eyes, the whole process gets me in a nervous tizzy. I hate it. I'm absolutely by no definition a "fashionista." I don't know what looks good. I look at the the mirror and no matter what frames I pick, my view is hindered by the face behind the frames--all my flaws. I get lost in all the choices--everything looks stupid. I need another point of view. The optical tech helps me choose frames that fit my face and lenses that benefit me the most. I just have to trust she knows what she's doing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Finally, my new glasses are ready to be picked up. I don't sport new looks with anticipation but rather in dread of the comments and repeated question, "Did </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">you get new glasses?" And wondering what they think. Do the glasses look okay or do they look stupid? No, I'm not normally so vain and I really don't know what it is about my glasses that gets me so uptight. I certainly don't wear them for fashion's sake--I wear them for sight. I can't see without them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> The gentleman smiles and hands my new glasses to me. As I put them on, he tilts his head, takes them off, adjusts them and puts them back on my face. "There! What do you think?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> And this time I look beyond the mirror, out the window to the trees outside and the signs across the street. And I can see them. . . clearly! I can see the definition of the leaves on the trees and every word on the signs. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My long-time furrowed brow begins to relax. I didn't even realize how hard I've been straining to see! </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In a moment, with my new lenses, my view has changed. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What a difference new lenses can make! Why did I wait so long?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I can't help but think what a difference Jesus makes when my view gets blurry and distorted in my circumstance...when my heart and head aches because I'm straining so hard to see life clearly. Why do I wait so long before I let Him put on my new lenses to give me new sight? In a moment, life comes into focus, senses sharpen, stress and worry fades. Life is defined and beautiful again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-64804458419248649462013-05-04T00:06:00.001-05:002013-05-04T00:17:22.862-05:00FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY: BRAVE <span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I sat at the dinner table with 5 other women I had never met before. We exchanged names, where we were from, and a few facts about ourselves. Then one of the ladies asked, "Who did you come with?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> "No one. I came by myself."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> "Wow. you're brave! You flew all by yourself from Texas?! You didn't know anybody? I could never...." <i>(We were in Nebraska.) </i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I wasn't quite sure how to answer that. Of all that I considered brave that weekend, this wasn't it. It's easy for me to do things on my own. I am a chronic "do-it-myselfer." If I'm doing it alone, I don't have to worry so much about looking the fool if I trip over my own feet or get lost or... Well, you get the idea. I'm much more comfortable doing most things on my own than with others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> What WAS brave (for me) was being in a place with one hundred other women and NOT being in a leadership role taking care of everyone else. To risk sharing part of my story with women I don't know and allow them to encourage me, to actually join in conversations and participate in activities without finding something to keep my hands busy or someone to take care of is brave</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. Taking care of my "hard stuff" alone is wayyyy easier, even as I lead ministry. In many ways that's not so brave either because I'm in control (most of the time.) I'm not vulnerable then--I'm the strong one taking care of everyone else. But just being in community and being vulnerable is brave. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Today, I witnessed brave in every sense. I received a phone call, "Sheri, I need to be honest..." Someone who had pulled away from community realized she needed help. For several weeks, I knew she was pulling away but I couldn't draw her back in. It's so much easier to hide away as our own stinkin' thinkin' tells us that we aren't good enough or worth enough to be in community. Then we fall. My heart broke for this one with tears streaming, drowning in shame. But I remember the day I finally said, ""I need help." It was the hardest thing I've ever done--fighting the battle against my own thoughts and self-worth. Today, my dear friend has no reason to be ashamed. Today, she decided to be part of a "triple-braided cord," as she lets others stand back to back fighting together with her. Today, she is the bravest woman I know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble. Likewise, two people lying close together can keep each other warm. But how can one be warm alone? A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken." - Ecclesiastes 4:9-12</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(I'm linking up with Lisa Jo's Five-Minute Friday, a few minutes late... Taking her topic and just writing for 5 minutes without edits or overthinking. That's pretty brave for me too!!!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span class="text Eccl-4-12" style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a></span></i></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-12636820753633094722013-05-02T17:40:00.000-05:002013-05-03T16:06:37.693-05:00LOVE SO TRUE<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We walked through the door into the quiet room, noticing that the rollaway had been put away. Oh, no...my heart dropped. Then I glance toward his hospital bed. She lay with him in the bed, face to face, her fingers sweetly intertwined with his--both of them peacefully asleep. His Beloved so thin and weary in the waiting, and him just a shell of the man I once knew. My heart broke and words wouldn't even come in a whisper for the knot in my throat. We wished we could just silently back out of the room and leave them in the tenderness of their gentle rest. It was such a rare and unforgettable portrait of how precious even a few still moments of togetherness can be. Few of us will know such a tender sweet love as they have...still. This is how it's supposed to be--maybe not perfect but so real-life TRUE. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> My heart catches every time I walk through that hospice room door, praying that he has entered into his joyful forever home and, at the same time, dreading that his journey has ended and his bed may finally be empty. Today we stepped into the intimacy of this poignant cameo, and both of us wished we hadn't disturbed it. But her eyes fluttered open and she began to rise, still clinging tightly to his hand. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "No, don't get up. Go ahead and sleep. We will come back." But she says, "No, I WANT to visit." My heart wrenched for her. I know all too well about these endless, waiting days in a hospice room. She NEEDS community as she hovers between losing him and living life alone. Maybe in this very moment, God made us to be a lifeline for his Beloved whose mountains are crumbling, so we stay...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea..." - Psalm 46:1-2</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span class="text Ps-46-2" id="en-NIV-14617" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">2 </sup></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I wish we could take away her hurting but, even so, I know that it's just part of knowing a love like this. The kind of love Jesus had for His bride, the church. "Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the church..." But, knowing our humanness, maybe Paul wasn't talking about loving perfectly as human eyes see. Maybe he was talking about loving wholeheartedly, completely, and even eternally, with everything we are. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And Frank has. Jesus knows. And his Beloved knows... It's the</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> kind of love that transcends finite thinking and, like the opal, gleams warmer and brighter in its flaws because of grace. Knowing Frank, I'm</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> sure he would echo to her that famous Jack Nicholson line, "You make me wanna be a better man," and he would mean it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> As we prayed over him before leaving, I couldn't help but flip through memories of my talks with Frank, especially our random divine appointments at Harbor Freight, about town, or in his hospital room. How often he told me that he wished God would let him go because he was useless and a burden. I remember how often I would remind him of God's promise:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out--plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for." - Jeremiah 29:11 The Message</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> "You're still here so God still has a purpose for you. He ain't done yet!" And we would laugh. Then he would tell me stories of his swap meets and young people he met. Everyone loves his stories--I understood how a young car/bike junkie would love hanging out with Frank! He would tell them what a rabblerouser he was and how God gave him grace. I remember so well how he told me there in Harbor Freight about the young man who asked him to tell him more about Jesus. He didn't know if he did it right, but Frank led him to the Lord. "See, Frank. Where would that young man be without you? God DOES have a purpose for you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> And even today when we saw them so lovingly together, both of us who entered that room were touched by the love they have. I don't think either of us will forget it. And the Beloved--well, she cherishes every second she can hold his hand. All I could say out loud was "Bye Frank," but I whispered without words, "See Frank. God STILL has a purpose..." Still, God has not abandoned. Still, God has plans to give you the future you hope for..." I think he heard me. If he could, he would nod his head with that little grin he has, knowing it's still true for him and for his Beloved.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-19939219635290858342013-04-19T15:32:00.000-05:002013-04-20T00:12:50.494-05:00BE STILL...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered. "You are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken from her." </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>- Luke 10:41-42 -</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Silence...Why do I run from it? It's hard, you know, to remember when you made noise your friend...When you began to make sure your physical life or mind is always so busy, you can't think. I mean REALLY think about the things that matter down deep--the things that remind you you're not as independent as you think you are.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> For a while now, I've known that I've made my "world" such that I don't have room to think--to breathe--knowing that I'm hiding in the self-constructed/organized or at least "allowed" chaos. In ministry, there's always someone else who needs to be loved. In family, there's always someone who needs mom--or G-Mom. In work, there's always one more thing that needs to be done--even if it's not so important to anyone but me. (Not that any of that is a bad thing. I cherish my kids and--oh!--my precious little Alice! I am so blessed in the way that God allows me to see Him work in the lives of others and to be part of it through ministry. And I LOVE my work--so much so that it feels strange just to call it a job. But it's easy to let the "good" become a crutch, even when He keeps reminding me as He did Martha, "Only one thing is needed..." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> When He whispers my name, He wants me--ALL of me--to sit at His feet and be still. But to be still is to be vulnerable, I think. S</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">o even when there's not a pressing need, I find myself filling the silence with noise--any noise or activity that keeps me from looking too deep within. It's so much easier to make sure there's no room left in the brain to think isn't it? To turn on the chatter and noise instead of resting in the uncomfortable silence? It's so much easier to become so completely and intentionally absorbed in mindless sit-coms or dramas, the tragedy of current events, social chatter, or our endless to-do lists and worries lest we become undone in the silence that would remain in its absence of noise. So I'm here in this place (in Nebraska, of all places!) trying to be brave. Purposefully trying to shut out the noise and give myself space to think. Even so, it's still so hard. So hard to turn off the noise--the phone, the TV and social media, and all the worries of world and home just to be still and quiet. To breathe. Why is it so hard to let HIM be my center for a while so that I can inhale His presence and let Him work IN me, not just through me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Why is that so frightening, I wonder? I wonder if Martha was afraid too when Jesus reminded her so patiently... I want to be obedient. I want to give Him that "one thing." Jesus, Lover of my soul--in the dark and in the light--help me be okay with sitting for awhile. Help me to be quiet and to listen... To be with You and let the stillness invade my senses so there's room to think, to breathe, and even to write again. Lord, it's been awhile... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>God is our refuge and strength... Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea. Though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging...</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day...</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The Lord almight is with us... He says "BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD. I WILL BE EXALTED..." - Psalm 46</i></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-53084636865058265622012-12-24T00:41:00.002-06:002012-12-24T11:36:22.509-06:00EMMA ROSE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Four pounds of miracle. So tiny and perfect...so fragile and beautiful. Who knew one so small would know how to fight so hard? I met Emma Rose through our NightLight Ministry. Her aunt asked us to go pray for her about 3 weeks ago when she was just out of the hospital and four days old. We didn't know the difficult circumstances she was born into or that she was born so early until we entered the room where she was. Her mom tearfully shared the story of her birth and her worries of caring for one so tiny. So we prayed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> As I cradled her in one arm and placed my other hand softly on her chest, she captured my heart. My NightLight Team circled around with Emma's mom and friends in that small apartment. I prayed that God would bless her life, keep her safe, and make her life be an instrument for His glory. Due to circumstances, some would say this child should never have been but I say even now, she is nothing short of a miracle. No matter what the circumstances, she is a masterpiece created by God for His glory and has been since the very moment of her conception. I can't even express how humbled and blessed that such as I am, I was given the honor to pray for that child and her mom that night. And in that very moment, I knew that we would be walking with Emma Rose and her mom along their journey...</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When NightLight began months ago, we never realized that our ministry would bring us here.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Saturday, I received a call that Emma had stopped breathing and was on life support. I rushed to the hospital with a friend to pray with her mom before she was flown to Cook's Children's Hospital. As we looked on at this tiny fragile body tied to tubes and machines, our hearts broke for Emma Rose and for the sorrow and fear we knew her mother was suffering. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">These helpless times are most frustrating for one like me. There just aren't words to ease a mother's fear and suffering nor understanding why one so small and innocent has to fight so hard to survive. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So we prayed. Again that Emma's life would be used for God's glory, that He would bring peace and assurance to anxious hearts, that He would place His hand of protection on Emma Rose on her journey by care flight and as she endured all that was to come, that He might bring healing to this tiny life, and finally, that His will be done. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "His will be done..." Those are difficult words to pray because I can't even begin to see or understand how God weaves the worst and most difficult times in with the joys and victories of faith to give meaning to our lives--to fulfill His purpose. Though she isn't mine, all I can do is to surrender that life as I have another to the tender love of a merciful Father and Sparrow-watcher and trust that He will make her life shine--no matter how this ends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Today, Emma Rose is still fighting for her life. She has sepsis but she has the heart of a champion. That she made it this far is nothing short of amazing and no doubt a miracle wrought only by the hand of God but her future here is still uncertain. As Christmas looms close, the vigil for little Emma Rose continues. Would you pray with us?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I still believe in Christmas miracles. Though I don't know the end of this story, I know that He will make her life shine for His glory. That no matter how long or short, Emma Rose has a life of purpose and beauty--a life that changes the lives of others. I can't help but remember a light shining down on a tiny baby born in a smelly old cave-barn over two thousand years ago--a child of seemingly no significance, yet He changed the world for eternity. And I know that God will answer our prayers. Emma Rose will shine. Her life will impact the lives of all who know her. She has already unforgettably touched mine. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-86771813877069242692012-12-13T16:36:00.000-06:002012-12-13T20:34:12.468-06:00OUR BOOK IS ON SALE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Over 3 years ago, my friend/pastor Chad Mitchell and I worked together to share our hearts for ministry and outreach---ministry through grace. Our book, "Superman Syndrome," was published in June of 2009. The book was later also published in Portuguese and marketed in Brazil. It's been a blessing to be a part of such a project. As God worked through us while we worked on the book, both Chad and I have grown stronger in faith, and for me, God has revealed His heart in the midst of some of my own personal struggles. It has been a life-changing experience for me, and I'm so blessed to have such a friend and pastor that that we can share the same mindset for ministry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> After 3 years on the market, we are discontinuing publication so we have remaining copies available at a special sale for $5. Books can be signed upon request or shipped. This would be a great last minute Christmas gift for anyone with a heart for ministry or reaching out to others. If you would like a copy for yourself or to give as gifts, you can contact us at our office at Mission Abilene in Abilene Texas at 325-232-8258 or email me at sheriisaiah43@gmail.com</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>BOOK SYNOPSIS: Are you trapped in a superhero ministry mentality? As pastors and Christian leaders, we are NOT called to lead because we have superhuman powers. We are called because we have been saved by the same grace we teach. We have endured trials, temptations, and triumphs just like everyone else. We love, serve, and lead best when we are real. In the "Superman Syndrome," Chad and Sheri show how we need to take off the ministerial masks and allow others to see grace at work in our own lives thorugh our weaknesses, our wounds, and our worship. This is a testimony of leadership through grace.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Our next book, "Echoes of the City," will soon be ready for publication.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-85345181353147764272012-10-22T14:18:00.000-05:002012-10-23T12:06:20.900-05:00MY NEIGHBOR<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iZhNQDab7Jg" width="420"></iframe></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> We talked about neighbors yesterday in church...questioning, "Who IS my neighbor?" And as the speaker made his points, I remembered that sometimes my neighbor is the one I least want to love and forgive--sometimes not a stranger but the ones closest to us (or who should be.) Sometimes my neighbor is one who wounded deeply and irreparably. The one who is first to taunt or to throw stones at me. Yet I am still called to love them. A part of me wants to find a way to do that but in loving them, I must also forgive them and forgiving doesn't come quite so easy as loving I think. Or does unforgiveness mean that I don't truly love at all? And does that same unforgiveness mean that I can't love my true Father as I am first commanded--with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my mind, and with all my strength?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Then I realize that I'm just not that strong but in my weakness, Jesus IS strong. And I have to come to grips with the truth that forgiving won't undo or change the past and it won't make me forget. But to love my Abba Father with all that I am, I have to find a way to forgive and love the the one who hurt me the most but not in my strength, in His. And when I can't love the other---my neighbor--with all that I am. When I can't love another with all my heart, soul, mind and strength, I can love them with the love of my Father who gave His all for me, and that will be enough. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-41197022082931915952012-08-02T01:50:00.000-05:002012-09-12T13:39:49.621-05:00RELENTLESS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Relentless - unyielding, ceaseless, unbending...fierce and unstoppable...never gives up. Not soft and so tender as we picture it sometimes...God's love is relentless. He pursues us with a love that is as strong and sure and final as death. It's hard for our finite minds to even fathom a love like that. We want to put everything in a box and contain but His love can't be contained. Have you ever thought of it that way? His love is so big and so furious it envelops us and never lets go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I spent some time with a friend who was completely broken by her own failure. She said she had disappointed God. Shame and guilt became her mainstay as she began to think that He would give up on her. As I've done so many times before, she couldn't see how He could love her in her fallenness. But this--this relentless love--is something I can stand up for without batting an eye. "Jesus loves me--this I know"--Not just a kiddie song...This I know. I really KNOW this love and, even in the desperateness of this very moment, it still takes my breath away just as it did when I realized how ferocious it was for the very first time. In her shame, she can't see the vastness of grace, and it breaks my heart but truth calls me to take a stand. No backing up or backing down. When another just can't see how measureless and how strong His love is--these are times that my own passion rises up to fight, not in defense of Him but in pursuit WITH Him. I know that His love reaches into the darkest and most wretched places to find us. Because that's just what He does--He relentlessly pursues us just for the LOVE of us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> God's love isn't dependent on our actions. It can't be measured on the world's scale. We run from Him, we fall down, we hide. The world may give up on us, but He still loves us. Shame and guilt overcomes us so when we come face to face with the love of God, we scream, "NOOOOOOOO!" because we don't deserve a love like His....Yet still He loves us. He always has; He always will. From the beginning of time to the ends of eternity, He loves us. Even if we never return His love, He STILL loves us. No matter what we've done or how miserably we have failed, He loves us as much today as He did the day before we failed. His love truly does lift us up where we belong. No matter how far we run from Him or where we try to hide, He will still love us just as much as He did the day He sent His Son to die for the sake of us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> It never ceases to amaze me when I think of His endless pursuit of us. How does He keep on day after day when I screw up again and again? Why doesn't He ever give up? Yet He loves me--He loves you--simply because He IS love. Even in trying to convey the relentlessness of His love in my friend's brokenness, I was once again bowled over in remembrance of how long and how far He pursued me--how He STILL pursues me. That furious passionate pursuit has been my saving grace. If He loves me that much, how can I not love Him back? His love for me isn't determined in the least by my successes or failures, but my life, however lived, is an expression of my love for Him (or lack of). Even so, my love for Him is but a drop compared to His love for me. No one else could ever love me like He does. So wide, so far, so high, so deep...and yet I still try to escape it sometimes until I wonder why am I running? So all I can do is just to STOP, to quit seeking for whatever I can't find so that I can be found by Him. And as He runs toward me in passionate pursuit, I open myself up to be caught. How great is the love He has lavished on us...</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-27434915210749574582012-07-09T23:21:00.000-05:002012-08-01T23:25:05.231-05:00HE LOVES ME ANYWAY<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "Come as you are." Words commonly spoken but not always meant. So, afraid that "as we are" is more than others can accept, we keep hiding in the cover of darkness behind our walls of secret shame or sin. And the more we hide, the more hurt and damaged we become because we aren't living in the truth of God's promise of grace. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I lived in that darkness for too long, living as if I was okay but falling apart inside. But finally my walls of pretend came tumbling down. And yes, I scrambled like mad to find somewhere to hide. It was painful to let others see the "me" that was screwed up and broken. But He left me no place to hide, and the ugly truth of who I was was exposed for anyone watching to see. And in the middle of my shame, He sent a fellowship of believers who took me just as I was--broken, ugly, and scarred. There was no longer any need to pretend anymore--I couldn't if I tried! It still takes my breath away when I remember the magnitude of His knowledge. He's always known the best and worst about me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>You have searched me, Lord, and You know me.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>You know when I sit and when I rise;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>You perceive my thoughts from afar.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>You discern my going out and my lying down;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>YOU ARE FAMILIAR WITH <b><u>ALL</u></b> MY WAYS.</i></span></div>
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<i><i style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span class="indent-1" style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="text Ps-139-3" style="position: relative;"><br /></span></span></i></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He knows EVERYthing about me. It's frightening and freeing all at the same time. He knows ALL my ways--not just what I do but WHY I do it. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Before a word is on my tongue, You, Lord know it completely</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You hem me in behind and before, and You lay Your hand upon me.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I sought to harm myself, He knew the hurt and anger that came with it. I tried to run, I tried to hide--I thought nobody understood. I was ashamed, but HE KNEW! </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I go up to the heavens, You are there;</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I make my bed in the depths, You are are there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to You; </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The night will shine like the day for darkness is as light to You.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For You created my inmost being, You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> So, with no place to run and no place to hide, I finally came to Him just as I was. He didn't push me away or turn His back. He simply loved me and accepted me. I had to accept the truth that, no matter how guilty or shameful I was, HE LOVED ME ANYWAY. He loved my worst just as much as He loved my best--probably even more because it was more true. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Sometimes, I think we keep ourselves in a dungeon and throw away the key simply because we are ashamed and we don't think we deserve a way out. But Grace doesn't look for those who "deserve" it. Grace looks for those unsuspecting flawed and broken REAL people who don't want to live in the dark anymore. Grace only asks that you come just as you are...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Even today, at my worst and at my best, I am still totally blown away by that one simple truth I learned so long ago: HE LOVES ME ANYWAY.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(He loves you anyway, too...)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Scripture is from Psalm 139 NIV.</span></div>
</i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-60502207754052691752012-06-23T23:58:00.003-05:002012-06-24T22:25:45.078-05:00IN THE WAITING<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Waiting.... Sometimes it seems we spend most of our life in the waiting. I've been there all too often--in life's waiting and in real life waiting rooms... As we waited for the outcome of my father's heart surgery. And my father-in-law's brain surgery. As nurses wheeled my sons away for head CT's and MRI's and to set my daughter's broken arm. As I waited time and again for an answer for strange debilitating symptoms until finally I heard the tentative words--"multiple sclerosis." And as my children and I waited for doctors to revive their dad only to be told, "There was nothing we could do." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span> <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The waiting room is a place of pain, anxiety, worry and fear--and sometimes,</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> a place of "what if's," blame, and tears. Sometimes, we sit there in the waiting nervously bantering about things that don't really matter just to keep from thinking the worst. And more often than not, we begin mentally filtering through old memories (good and bad), sometimes sharing them aloud with others. Yet we keep the most poignant thoughts and memories to ourselves lest we give in to the "what if's." Finally, all we have left is the silence. Oh, the silence... It leaves so much room for wondering. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I remember one such waiting room, I was stuck in a memory I couldn't let go of and the pain of it took its toll on me. I wasn't really there by choice, but the PTSD episode left me unsafe to be alone so a friend took me to the hospital to treat self-inflicted wounds. I was falling apart so the hospital staff put us in a tiny little private waiting room meant for families. Those moments in that little waiting room have become the example of life in the waiting room. I couldn't do anything but pace and ramble on as I sorted through the details of the memory that had me in its grip. As these episodes go, I don't always remember the details of the present--my whole focus is the recollection of painful past events. I don't remember all that I actually said that day, but I remember clearly the memory and the process as remembering laid it all out before me piece by piece so I could handle it. I remember pacing back and forth as I sorted through it detail by detail--out loud I think. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> The only other person in that little room was the one who brought me. He didn't judge me or hush me or interrupt me or tell me to get a grip--at least not during this time when I just needed to let the memory take breath for a while. He let me talk while he sat quietly gave me space to pace. He simply listened and waited with me. Even if it didn't make sense to him, I couldn't stop until it was all out and I had nothing left. I have no idea what must have run through his head or how it affected him. We've never talked about those particular moments--the "remembering"-- in that little room before the doctors and professionals stepped in. I couldn't have told him then in the confusion and brokenness of the moment, but his listening and his quietness was a precious gift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I don't remember that entire day or even understand it; sometimes PTSD just doesn't make sense. I am told that in the hours that followed, I wasn't very cooperative. But I remember well those moments in that tiny little waiting room with a faithful friend and I gratefully cherish them. Though it took some time for me to see it, I know now that particular waiting room has become my example of being in God's waiting room. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> It's in the waiting that I have learned to pour out my heart to God--the good, the bad, and the ugly--just as I poured out memories to a mindful friend that day. And God quietly listens and waits with me for He knows that secret hurts must take breath for a while and all that is hidden must be brought to light. And that can only be done in the emptying of my heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Then in the following silence that seems so interminable, He begins restoring my soul little by little because He has truly heard my cries. As I pour out pain, fear, grief, bitterness, and doubt, He fills the void with His presence. As the silence turns to wondering, He is answering me in His own way and His own time. It's in the hardest waiting that I've been changed the most and the most lasting, I think, simply because that's when I'm the weakest and He is the strongest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I remember other waiting rooms...</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> As I waited to hear each of my babies' heartbeats for the first time. As I waited with expectant grandparents to welcome Sadie to the world--a long-time prayer come true. As I waited with heart pounding for the military plane to land or bus to arrive bringing my sons back home from foreign lands and wars. And as I waited with bated breath for my baby girl to have her baby girl--my first grandchild. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The waiting room is place of pain and fear but it is also a place of anticipation, expectation, hope, and even joy as new life begins. Even in the uncertainty of the waiting room, He continues His perfect work in each of us.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you (and me), will continue His work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus return." - Philippians 1:6</i></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eQD7_pit9xI" width="560"></iframe></i></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-23995826120476991792012-04-30T12:54:00.001-05:002012-04-30T12:57:18.227-05:00HE WOULD STILL BE TRUE<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B1xkgx4u_Es/T57QuhuUskI/AAAAAAAAAIU/JqVjfFEcfmg/s1600/Heart+in+Hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B1xkgx4u_Es/T57QuhuUskI/AAAAAAAAAIU/JqVjfFEcfmg/s1600/Heart+in+Hand.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> A while back, we were studying Romans in "The Voice" translation in staff meeting. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's funny how Scripture can take on so much more significance when we hear it a little differently or even at specific times in our lives. Though I had read it so often before, one verse seemed to stand out even more as we talked about it,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> "If every person on the planet were a liar and thief, God would still be true." (Romans 3:4 The Voice)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i> </i>I was jarred by the truth of it then and still today when I think of the reality of who God is. His existence </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">does not depend on us—He is God. We sometimes wrap faith and believing up in a nice little package and, to make it look good, we tie it all up with a pretty little bow. But sometimes the bow comes undone and the contents of our perfect little box spills out willy-nilly all over the place.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> God is not a god of our own making. He doesn't fit in a pretty little box. He even told us, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word WAS God...” (John 1:1)</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> We didn’t create God—He created us. We don’t get to make up the conditions of His existence or His reasoning. God IS, He has always been, He will always BE God--the same yesterday, today, and forever. He doesn’t change because we love Him better or even if we love Him less. We can’t improve on the ultimate God. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> But the verse in Romans got me to thinking, "For God so loved the world…” Before we were ever born…Before we were even a gleam in our earthly daddies’ eyes, He sent His very own Son to die for us BECAUSE HE LOVED US. He didn’t love us because we did something to earn it--He simply loved us even centuries before we were born. He even knew we would fail Him time and time again or even reject Him—yet still He loved us enough to give up His own Son. “Us” includes ALL of us, no matter where we've been or what we've done. What do we do with a love like that?!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I was reading through some chapters <st1:country-region w:st="on">Chad</st1:country-region> and I have been working on, and I came upon a turnabout question we had asked, “If God hadn’t given us so many good gifts, would we still love Him?” He loves us at our very worst—even if we are liars and thieves, adulterers and prostitutes, or murderers and rapists. No matter what we are, He is still true. His is the kind of love that is higher, wider, longer, and deeper than anything we could ever imagine. So I have to wonder, "Do <b>I</b> love Him that much?" He has absolutely no boundaries and no conditions on His love for me. But do I have boundaries and conditions on my love for Him? Do you?</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-47251978503683318392012-03-17T17:53:00.003-05:002012-03-17T18:04:38.108-05:00IF JESUS WERE ME...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rKY-2S_vmxE/T2UXcpdoAEI/AAAAAAAAAIA/mMN6hLfmN58/s1600/Old+shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rKY-2S_vmxE/T2UXcpdoAEI/AAAAAAAAAIA/mMN6hLfmN58/s1600/Old+shoes.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Random contemplation today... Some "things" have been on my mind... Some old wounds opened fresh lately... Old habits or thoughts rise up unexpectedly... And some hurts or hates just won't go away no matter how hard I think I try... I get weary of being me sometimes--of being so fractured and imperfect. Especially when it doesn't make sense. When the good should outweigh the bad and I count those blessings, these moments come unrequested and unwanted. I want to be beyond these brutal thorns of the flesh. I don't want these same old gremlins to keep nipping at my feet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> But even Paul told us, "THREE TIMES I PLEADED WITH THE LORD TO TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME..." So I'm NOT the only one!!! Not that misery loves company but that one statement puts me in GOOD company in my book! Paul never fails to be both holy AND human. So it's comforting to know I'm not the only one who feels like I'm on a merry-go-round going nowhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I love to put myself in the shoes of the Gospel greats--Mary Magdalene, Peter, the adulteress, the woman at the well, Paul, and of course Jesus Himself. I love to see from their perspective and I learn soooo much from them. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I often stand in those shoes and teach from the "who's who" perspective and watch as women begin to see themselves through new eyes.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> B</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">ut you know--every once in a while, in the middle of my own struggles, their shoes just don't fit.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> So what to do?....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> WWJD... Walk where He</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> walked, talk like He talked, think like Him, BE more like Him. But sometimes in my humanness, that seems so impossible AND discouraging. If I were Jesus who knows the ending from the beginning I wouldn't be struggling in the first place, now would I?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I read a quote from Dallas WIllard today that caught my attention and reminded me that sometimes we need to turn things upside down or inside out. He said, "I am learning from Jesus to live MY life if He were I..." So maybe sometimes I need to turn it around. Instead of trying to put myself in His shoes, maybe I need to put Jesus with all His humanity and grace in mine. What if Jesus were a confused little girl, or a wounded young woman confused and hurt by people that should be trusted, a wife and mother trying to survive, or this older woman weary and worn, scarred and sometimes still bleeding? What if Jesus were me? What if He didn't look ahead to the ending but faced my experiences, my hurts, and my regrets from MY perspective? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> And I suddenly remember the little girl in the laundry hamper with Jesus... When He held me tight and cried with me. He didn't always "change" things so I wouldn't hurt but He let me know I wasn't alone and He hurt too. And I realize that as big as God as, Jesus is just my size. He feels what I feel, hurts when I hurt, and cries when I cry. He even gets angry at injustice and meanness. He also rejoices when I rejoice, laughs when I laugh, and loves even more deeply when I love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Sometimes I try to escape from my own life to go where He is in Scripture--Jerusalem, the Sea of Galilee, the Holy Land countryside where He walked and taught, even on Mt. Calvary. Those aren't bad places to find Him--I learn so much from Him there but sometimes I need to remember I don't have to go looking for Him. He is right here. He lives my life with me.... And He knows my heart. Then Grace covers it all and somehow makes the imperfect become perfect when He speaks peace to me, "In this world you will have trouble, but TAKE HEART! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-71770073568885427552012-02-04T02:47:00.002-06:002012-02-04T10:31:32.441-06:00THIS IS MY STORY, THIS IS MY SONG...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"...Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water."</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> Hebrews 10:22 NIV</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Umrtr4O3Maw" width="420"></iframe></span> </div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> She was blinded by a country doctor's desperate remedy for a cold when she was only six weeks old. Nothing could retrieve her sight. "Poor little blind girl..." were words she may have heard again and again, but <a href="http://www.sermonaudio.com/hymn_details.asp?PID=blessedassurance#history">Fanny J. Crosby</a> turned her tragedy into a triumph. Though she had every human reason to be discouraged, she rejoiced in faith. "Blessed Assurance" was only one of more than 8000 songs she wrote in her lifetime. Her blindness only made her stronger and more certain of her faith. She heard the melody a friend wrote one day, and immediately these words poured out of her--her own story in song:<i> "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine..."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> As soon as I could mimic the words and find the pages in the hymnals, this one became one of my very favorite hymns. I may have only been 5 or 6 years old but some songs just captured my heart even though I didn't really know why. I remember those Sunday night sings so well. I would sing those words with all my little girl might, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"This is my story! this is my song! </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Praising my Savior all the day long!..." I must have been quite a sight. This skinny little freckle-faced girl... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I could pick a thousand songs that mean a lot to me, but if I had to pick one that has endured through my whole life, it would be this one.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Just as Fanny Crosby rose above her blindness to grasp the assurance of her unfailing faith, I grasped the heart of those words in the darkest or saddest moments of my own life. When I was down and out as a little girl, I didn't choose from the sounds of the Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline vinyl records that my dad played so often. I chose those songs I loved best on Sunday mornings and especially Sunday evenings when the congregation--even little girls--could choose the hymns. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I look now at the words of "Blessed Assurance" and realize why they have held my heart captive my whole life. <i>"Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine..."</i> No matter what was taken from me--as a little girl, a confused teenager, an overwhelmed mom, or totally lost grown woman on my own at forty--no one, and I mean NO ONE, could take Jesus away from me. Even when I myself tried to push Him away or run from Him, He took me in His arms and reminded, "You are Mine, and I am Yours." And oh! When I held on to His words, my tears and troubles just evaporated away</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <i> "Perfect submission, perfect delight...Angels descending, bring from above, echoes of mercy and whispers of love."</i> When I couldn't see right and wrong or understand what was happening, I found hope in crawling in Jesus' lap and giving Him my heart...and my hurt. As a little girl, I would crawl into the dark mustly laundry hamper (I was a strange little kids sometimes!) and Jesus would meet me there and just hold me tight. I didn't understand what "submission" was back then, but I knew it MUST this way of letting Jesus hold me while He made the world go away for awhile. And when I was in that laundry hamper, I did just that. I submitted... Without trying to prove anything to anyone, I surrendered to Him with a sincere heart... Well today, I don't fit in the laundry hamper anymore (obviously), but there are still times He draws me close and holds me, echoing mercy and whispering love to my soul.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <i> "Perfect submission, all is at rest. I in my Savior am happy and blest. Watching and waiting, looking above--Filled with His goodness, lost in His love." </i>It's hard to think why I would even want to hide in a hamper full of dirty old clothes but when Jesus took hold of my heart in there, He washed my "inside" dirty laundry clean. Nothing else mattered, and I really was happy and blessed. I would even fall asleep amid that pile of dirty clothes completely at peace and at rest. Even today, in surrendering my very worst to Him, I find myself in Him and He in me. I remain happy and blessed--whether my tough circumstances change or remain the same.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <i> "This is my story, This is my song! Praising my Savior all the day long..."</i> When I was so little, I remember belting those words out as loud and as strong as I could in that church pew. My heart would pound with love for my Jesus, the friend of children. I don't think anyone could have shut me up if they tried. It's ironic how Jesus always said we should come as little children to Him. In human reason, it just doesn't make sense. As children, there's so much we don't understand, even more we just can't put into words, and so very little we can do. But when Jesus comes down and speaks to a little child's heart, she doesn't question--she just knows and responds without abandon, "Jesus is mine and I am His."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No matter what I had done or what I had been through, Jesus was ALWAYS my blessed assurance. I didn't understand a lot in those days, but I understood that one truth. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today in my church, we don't sing the song nearly as much as I would like but when I hear it, those words still fill my heart to overflowing. No matter what I've done or what I've been through, He reminds me that He is still my blessed assurance. Because He has held me so close throughout the years, His blessed assurance truly <u><b>IS</b></u> my story and my song. He's held me through all the darkest moments. When I couldn't see, He made a way for me. <i>"This is <b>MY</b> story, this is <b>MY</b> song..."</i> so yes, for all He is and all He has done, I will praise Him all my life long.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> In just a few hours, my baby girl will become a mom. It's been quite a year. None of us expected what this year held. The year had barely begun when my children lost their father. And now it ends with a new life just beginning as little Alice Madeline makes her grand debut tomorrow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Honestly, I'm a little overwhelmed--a lot overwhelmed. Just as I'm beginning to think I've got a handle on this thing called "life," it changes. Overwhelmed isn't always a bad thing though. I've seen my daughter grow more in this one year than seemed possible. She has fought and endured, overcome, and pressed on. She lost what was most precious and embraced love and treasures yet to come. I'm amazed at the woman she is becoming. And I'm overwhelmed as I realize what is yet in store for her--the pain, fear, responsibility, tears, and unending joy that comes with being a mom. I'm overwhelmed because I know that in these next hours, her whole life changes as Alice comes into her life. There is no turning back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> My whole life I have heard that old warning that always comes with a knowing chuckle, "You'll pay for your raisin'!" I never quite understood it. I guess I never quite appreciated the sentiment. It's as if one generation finds joy in knowing that the next generation will suffer the same struggles and worries and troubles that they have endured. And I've decided I don't want my daughter or my sons to "pay for their raisin'." If I could wish anything for my daughter, I would wish that she would be at least twice the parent I've ever been.... That she will not make the same mistakes I made or have to make up for her own mistakes growing up. I hope that she will have more patience and wisdom and love than I had... That she won't stay up nights worrying and wondering what she is doing wrong as a mom. I wish...I pray that she keeps the confidence and assurance that she will be the best mom she can be... And that if or when her own children rebel or seek their own independence, she will know that no matter what they do or choose, she has given them the tools to survive and the weapons needed to fight the battle they will face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> The truth is that I believe she will be a great mom. She may not do things the way did them. (Actually, I hope she does things better than I did.) She may have different ideas about child-rearing than I had or generations before me had. But you know what? That's ok. Different doesn't mean wrong. I just pray that I can be there for her whenever she needs me yet know when its time to get out her way so she can be the parent God has created her to be. I pray that she comes into her role as mom with confidence and joy. That fears will subside as she walks in the strength and wisdom that I know Christ will provide in this brand new journey and that her "raisin' " never costs her or brings her doubt or regret but instead, I pray her "raisin' " only makes her stronger. Daughter, the best is yet to come...</span><br />
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</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-91010108030859177492012-01-20T08:23:00.006-06:002012-01-20T09:44:38.715-06:00BEING REAL<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3k-pY-_n6I0" width="420"></iframe></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Sometimes the line between ministry and friendship is so very blurred, and the hurt of one so very precious to me runs deep in me too. Maybe because knowing her pain, I recognize that the chasm between where I was and where I am is not so very wide and not nearly wide enough for comfort. Yet that one small step taken to cross the chasm that separates the edge of despair and the edge of hope seemed like the journey of a thousand miles. I've come so far but not far enough to forget or to lose sight of what GOD has done in me and for me. Maybe this hurt is what keeps me humble, knowing that my crossing wasn't my achievement but God's work in me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Maybe this hurt is just one more cog in the turmoil that's been churning in me for awhile if I was willing to admit it. One of the greatest paradoxes of this journey and how God uses it, I think, is the conflict between what my mind knows and what my heart feels--another narrow chasm that seems so uncrossable sometimes. Even now I look from where I came and I can't see the bridge that I crossed to get where I am. It seems impossible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I'm a "fixer." If there was ever anything I selfishly want from my own experience is that no one I love would have to walk down the same road that I had to walk or cross the same frightening chasms. From where she is now, she focuses so intently at deadly hopeless churning waters below her that she can't see His hand so near reaching across to her from the other side of this chasm of despair. I remember it all too well--when I couldn't see His hand either. I just want to grab hold of her and cry out to her, "Come on! I know the way. I can save you!" She can't hear my cries but I'm realizing this morning that God hears my heart. He remembers when I was at the brink too... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Last night, Chad spoke in a women's meeting about "One Thing," a message that, I have to admit, unsettled me with so much so heavy on my heart. I like the sermons that end with me knowing all the answers but this one left me with more questions than answers. Honestly, at this moment, I don't have a clue about the answers to any of the questions Chad posed before us...Except one. He even shared the answer that is my own. (</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's ironic that I had all the notes to this message three weeks ago but I didn't "hear" it then. Maybe God saved it so I would hear it when I needed it most...)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "What one promise do you need to cling to?" As he commonly does, Chad posted a scripture with the question to help us. Together we read through part of it:</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">This one thing </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I know: </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-weight: bold;">GOD IS </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; font-weight: bold;">FOR ME!</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">I am </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">trusting God; </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Oh, praise </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">His </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">promises!</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">I am not </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">afraid of </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">anything </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">mere man </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">can do to me! </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Yes, </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">praise His </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">promises.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Psalm 56:9-11 TLB</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Those words hit hard last night... "This ONE THING I know: GOD IS FOR ME!" I can't honestly say that I always trust Him enough or that I'm never afraid--I am even now I guess. But this morning I remember why those four little words took my breath away last night. "GOD IS FOR ME!" That was the very truth I had to learn AND believe before I could take His hand and cross the chasm. That was my one step. When all the rest of the world seemed against me, I had to believe that God is for me. Thankfully, I had someone on the other side yelling (in a manner of speaking), "LOOK UP! GOD IS FOR YOU!" And yelling loud enough to take my attention from the swirling waters below for just a minute. But that minute was enough to see that someone point me to THE One--to Jesus reaching out His hand to take me to the other side. One step is all it took and I was rescued. Even since then, that one promise has often kept me looking ahead instead of looking below or behind. It does now...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> And I wonder how I take that from my heart to hers--to my friend who is now where I was. I want an easy answer. Surely there is something simple I can say or do to make her see but in my heart of hearts, I know she's just as determined and stubborn as me. So I look again at the verses Chad gave and I realize that one promise goes even further. I'm not sure why I didn't read it three weeks ago... As I remember my own journey as if it were just yesterday, I remember my promise to Him when He kept me from falling...</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I am bound by my vows to You, O God.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I will keep my vows by offering songs of thanksgiving to You.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>You have rescued me from death. You have kept my feet from stumbling</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>so that I could walk in your presence, in the Light of Life.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Psalm 56:12-13 God's Word Translation.</i></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></span> </span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"I will keep my vows..." Chad reminded me last night that my own experience is what is most valuable in reaching out to this one on the edge. Admittedly, I didn't like that answer because it just confirmed that I couldn't FIX it for her. That doesn't eliminate her struggle. As daylight comes this morning, so does new revelation. My promise to Him was NOT to fix for others all that is wrong. My promise was just to whisper, to sing, to tell, or even scream if necessary, what He did for me. Not to fix but to simply give hope and point to Him. My promise was in whatever way possible to call from this side, "LOOK UP! He's right here! GOD IS FOR YOU!" </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> There are moments in my journey that are so hard to share openly with even the closest to me--not just because it's so intimately personal but also because it's still so painful. And I don't like my weakness or pain to show...Who does?! Doesn't weakness make me less effective for Him? (Again, this conflict between my heart and my head...) But the truth is that my own journey is sometimes the only tool I have. He has so graciously given me my most precious gift--my rescue. But my story doesn't fix hers, so what's the point? ...As I remember once again. It's not my job to fix her problem. It's to give her hope.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> So as I offer my "song" of thanksgiving, I am most thankful for my journey and I wouldn't trade one moment or one step of it for anything in the world... Especially the hardest and most painful moments, for it was is in those very moments that I discovered that He is FOR ME no matter what. No matter where I had been or what I had screwed up or how pathetic and hopeless I was, He was still FOR me. He fought the battles I didn't have the will or strength to fight. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> So in the light of day, I realize that the bridge I keep looking for to get to where she is now doesn't exist. It never did. I didn't cross a bridge to get from there to where I am. All I did was reach out to take His hand when someone cried out to me, "LOOK UP!" And He raised me up on eagles wings and carried me in those moments and miles of living death to the other side--to Life.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> So Friend, I can't possibly take away your journey. I can't "fix it" for you so you don't have to go through this. But I know your journey is your greatest gift. All I can do is whisper, cry, sing, or yell out to you in any way possible that I know that I know that I know this one thing: Even these darkest moments are precious because I've been where you are, so LOOK UP! He's right in front of you reaching out His hand. I am here waiting on the other side praying for you and waiting to watch you reach out and take His hand as He lifts you up in flight and carries you to the other side--to a life unimagined before, even with its struggles. Girl, He will do what you or I can't. GOD IS FOR YOU!</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-53591046514404156282011-12-30T11:25:00.000-06:002011-12-30T11:25:08.186-06:00A Life-Changing Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zHMbi-dfjcE/Tv3pvmjR6SI/AAAAAAAAAGY/2V9BXR7CF-g/s1600/IMAG0413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zHMbi-dfjcE/Tv3pvmjR6SI/AAAAAAAAAGY/2V9BXR7CF-g/s320/IMAG0413.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">First glimpse of Alice Madeline Mora, my first grandchild.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3_ZBkFAaqik/Tv3qm3o0-ZI/AAAAAAAAAHM/OKYmekV6qdk/s1600/download+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3_ZBkFAaqik/Tv3qm3o0-ZI/AAAAAAAAAHM/OKYmekV6qdk/s320/download+%25282%2529.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alice & Mommy (my daughter Brittany)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pS_Kay2AX7c/Tv3p3xFTPrI/AAAAAAAAAGg/M-64Sq0Ld4M/s1600/download+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pS_Kay2AX7c/Tv3p3xFTPrI/AAAAAAAAAGg/M-64Sq0Ld4M/s320/download+%25287%2529.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alice & Daddy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5wZ_Hv6y1tE/Tv3p4xmlYQI/AAAAAAAAAGo/-A3phmSwX8o/s1600/download+%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5wZ_Hv6y1tE/Tv3p4xmlYQI/AAAAAAAAAGo/-A3phmSwX8o/s320/download+%25288%2529.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alice & Uncle Mikey</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v93yntuGGy4/Tv3p5d-wyrI/AAAAAAAAAGw/aFuDUb12iyM/s1600/download+%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v93yntuGGy4/Tv3p5d-wyrI/AAAAAAAAAGw/aFuDUb12iyM/s320/download+%25289%2529.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alice & Uncle Andy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tyyVbiCGLn4/Tv3p6dkaEgI/AAAAAAAAAHA/wdw07-zsyh0/s1600/download+%252812%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tyyVbiCGLn4/Tv3p6dkaEgI/AAAAAAAAAHA/wdw07-zsyh0/s320/download+%252812%2529.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alice & Uncle Elias</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oXWKo1APt48/Tv3qwE8YSkI/AAAAAAAAAHY/6ymJyd8rT4U/s1600/download+%252810%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oXWKo1APt48/Tv3qwE8YSkI/AAAAAAAAAHY/6ymJyd8rT4U/s320/download+%252810%2529.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alice & Uncle Zachary</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FXw1-uOV9rA/Tv3q0TQh4jI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Ns3C19u8-qo/s1600/download+%252817%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FXw1-uOV9rA/Tv3q0TQh4jI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Ns3C19u8-qo/s320/download+%252817%2529.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alice & G-Mom... that's ME!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There just aren't any more words to describe this day right now. If there was ever a day I wish I could have shared with Phillip, it would be this one. G-Dad is missed very much.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-60683849090114733232011-11-27T00:14:00.001-06:002011-11-27T09:09:13.899-06:00HOMECOMING <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> There were some empty chairs at our table this Thanksgiving, each one bringing its own reflection and remembrances. The year has wrought extreme sorrow in losing and extreme joy in expecting so missing the ones I love resonated a little deeper. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Mikey and Kaci were absent only because her family had come from such a long way to spend the day with "Memaw." The time together with Kaci's family was precious and will always be remembered. Their chairs don't seem quite so vacant when I know they are making memories they will always hold dear. The blessing of marriage is that each partner is part of TWO families. Missing them isn't so hard because I know their hearts really aren't far from home. If home is where the heart is, it can be in more than one place. Though they couldn't share the day with us, they were making memories where their hearts needed to be... In reflection, their chairs really weren't so empty at all.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Elias' chair has been empty at our table several times in recent years because he's served his country in distant lands... All of my children have left empty chairs through the years in pursuit of their purpose. For my Marine sons, MRE's have been a more likely holiday dinner than festive turkey and pumpkin pies, and knowing what they are missing deepens the longing to have them home. A mama's heartstrings always tug in awareness of these empty chairs because a Marine's coming home is never certain. And the unknowing if he is well and at peace or in the midst of conflict weighs heavy. This year, missing him and knowing that he misses his dad even more makes his empty chair seem lonelier because I just want him to know he isn't alone in his sorrow. We all share it together. But knowing this year that he was on a journey that led him out of danger leaves me hoping. He's coming home. From Afghanistan to Hawaii and in a few days...HOME. If home is where the heart is, his heart will be home this year for Christmas--my empty nest will be full though I look on at my fledglings alone now</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. Looking forward with expectation seeing him face to face reminds me that "coming home" makes the emptiness of Elias' chair seem less empty. Anticipation of his homecoming<b> offers HOPE in place of despair. </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Excitement and expectation of meeting our new little Alice Madeline</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> brightens the shadow of that forever empty chair yet the forsaken chair still remains. There's no possibility that he will eventually "come home" and, though many precious others may come and go, no one can fill the void that death leaves behind. There's no escaping it. All one can do is just believe, as Chad reminded us, that there was a special homecoming celebration in heaven this year. In believing, we must remember with joyful acceptance that a chair in heaven no longer sits waiting for him to come home. He sits at a new table with his dad, Grandma, Frenchy, Aunt Dutch, and all those others who have gone before from this world. He may remember but he isn't missing us because he is forever HOME where his heart belongs. How could we ever wish to take that from him? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Though our hearts grieve, we hold on to hope...We remember with sad fondness but we look forward with joyful anticipation of yet another homecoming--our own--when room for one more is made to share in the heavenly feast. We will finally be HOME--the home where our hearts will always be.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-87944481523649848052011-10-30T01:51:00.000-05:002011-10-30T01:51:07.359-05:00REMEMBERING THE WAVES<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Since Phillip--the children's dad--died in January, the question of how I will be remembered has lingered heavy on my heart. I've watched my children and those who loved him most deal with losing him by remembering him--each one remembering different and/or similar aspects of his character and nature. And remembering his words--those words that shaped who he was and how he influenced them. I remember still a whole different set of memories and words through our relationship as husband and wife...and mom and dad to our kids. Those memories have left an imprint on each one of us that will never fade. So especially as my children have remembered him, I've wondered how they will remember me... How others will remember me... Will their memories be positive? Will they leave a lasting imprint? Or will those memories be here today and gone tomorrow?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I look back on my own life journey--and I realize I am not the same person I was five years ago, 10 years ago, or 20 years ago... I'm certainly not the person I was 40 years ago... (Gee, I'm sounding old!) I remember those who have walked in and out of my life at different points along the way. If I never see them again, they will never know the person I am today and that hurts. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> The truth of it has become evident in the last few weeks since my youngest son came to stay with me since he got out of the Marines. We haven't lived together since he was in junior high. I've realized we don't know each other very well. When we talk, he often relates and responds to the mom he knew as a boy. I'm not "her" anymore; he's not that little boy anymore either. So I'm not so sure how to relate to this man either... This man who went through much of his "becoming" years virtually without me... Who has served duty tours in Iraq and Afghanistan for the sake of his country... Who has opinions, values, beliefs, strengths, and hurts that I'm just learning about. So I have to wonder: if I died today, who would he remember?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> G</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">iven the chance to return to "back then,"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: center;"> I would have done many things differently. If I understood then what I know now, I would have lived differently. I would have been stronger, braver, kinder. I would have given more love and less anger... More hope and less hurt... More grace and less judgement... More of the Jesus-Me and less of the World-Me.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> But, in reality, I'm left with only today--being the best "me" I can be today. I can only hope that the person I am today makes a deeper imprint than who I was in my yesterdays. Today, I'm living in grace and by grace. Today, I seek to see the "me" that Christ sees...His workmanship, created for a purpose--those </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic;">"good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(EPHESIANS 2:10 ESV)</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today, I strive to walk in His purpose. And that purpose is what I hope people remember most... </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> It took me so long to even begin to see myself as Christ sees me. I saw a mess--ugly, scarred, and imperfect. I lost all hope in the "me" I used to see. But today, I have hope because the Christ IN me is my Hope of Glory <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(See COLOSSIANS 1:27<i>)</i></span><i>.</i> He shows me who I am and what He wants me to do. My purpose is to give others that same hope by helping them see themselves as His workmanship--His masterpieces. And to show them that He made something beautiful. I want them to KNOW Him as their "Hope of Glory" and to be changed.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> If people remember anything about me, I would hope that those memories would point to the Christ in me. If they remember love, compassion, grace, beauty, or hope in me at all, they would know that it's the "Hope of Glory" in me and that they would know HIM. Philip Yancey wrote, </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">"You can gauge the size of a ship that has passed out of sight by the huge wake it leaves behind." </i><span style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The bigger the ship, the bigger the waves that follow. I hope that my life today is big enough to leave big waves--not because of anything I say or do so much as because of Him in me. I pray that the waves that follow me are waves of Hope bringing about change in the lives that touch mine. </span></span></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-46800591026523669672011-10-16T00:39:00.000-05:002011-10-16T00:39:33.593-05:00BROKEN & SPILLED OUT<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"But even if I am being poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with you all..." - Philippians 2:17 NASB</span></i></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> She was an unwelcome guest. She entered the room even as protesting servants tried to hold her back. It was all she could do to walk in there...unwanted and uninvited by the host. She risked ridicule, shame, and even self-respect for she was a sinful woman, but she had a purpose. She saw Him, the invited guest of honor. Her eyes met His for a moment as she fell at His feet. At the sight of Him, tear flowed unchecked down her cheeks. No,not tears of shame, sorrow, or fear but rather tears of love and gratitude, believing that this Man would see her heart not just her sin. This man Jesus spoke a different kind of love to her than any man had ever spoken before and her life was changed. Grace brought her to this room. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Under the glare of the disapproving host, she broke open her most precious possession--an alabaster box filled with a rare expensive perfume worth at least a year's wages--and poured it over Jesus'</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> feet. The sweet aroma filled the room as she bathed His feet. Overwhelmed with love for Him, her tears rained down mixing with the perfume on His feet. As she kissed His feet, she loosened her hair so it fell long and dried His feet with her hair...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> She had nothing else to give so she gave Him all she had: her treasured alabaster box and her tears, symbols of an even more precious gift. Out of the grace He had so lovingly given her, she poured out her broken life as an offering to Him with all the love she had. Her heart spilled out for the sake of Him...<i> "Broken and spilled out for the love of You, Jesus..." </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i> </i>Jesus understood what no other could,</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> "I tell you, her sins--and they are many --have been forgiven so she has shown Me much love..." (Luke 7:47 NLT)</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i> </i>Jesus, too gave all that He had...for the love of us. He poured out His life as an offering so that we can live eternally. By grace, He fills us up with His love. In all that has been broken in my own life, He makes me whole and fills me with love and grace again and again. With the love and grace He pours into me, I pour into others. Sacrifice sometimes, yes. Difficult, yes. And often so exhausting... But worth it? You bet! I empty myself into another with all He has given me. As I see His love and grace fill that other and empower her to pour herself into yet another, I am again filled to overflowing and ready to pour myself out to yet another...and another. In emptying myself into others, I pour my life out as an offering to Him for He has forgiven much in me too...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "<i>Broken and spilled out just for love of You, Jesus. My most precious treasure lavished on Thee. Broken and spilled out and poured at Your feet. In sweet abandon, let me be spilled out and used up for Thee." (Gloria Gaither)</i></span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"<i>BROKEN AND SPILLED OUT" as performed by Steven Curtis Chapman. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Lyrics by Gloria Gaither, music by Bill George. 1984 Gaither Music.</i></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-39250400719859124382011-10-07T22:45:00.001-05:002012-01-22T12:59:55.569-06:00I HEAR VOICES....<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I hear voices....No, not THOSE kinds of voices! (At least those aren't the ones I'm talking about today...) I hear voices--we all have them. Voices that speak truth and encouragement. Voices that lift up and push onward. Voices that impact our lives so strongly that we will never be the same. Whose voices are they? For me, they are the people in my life who matter most... Each one for the individual unique things they bring to my life and hopefully what I bring to theirs too somehow. Their voices stay with me, making me stronger, and laying my paths straight. And sometimes even holding me back or barring my way when I try to get ahead of myself...or God.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I hear the voice of PERSISTENCE--Chad...One of the single most influential voices in my life. Why? Because he believed and persisted in reminding me, "There's a reaso</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">n you are here." And he helped me find that reason.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I hear voices of my PAST, PRESENT, and FUTURE--my children: Brittany, Mikey, Andy, Elias, Zachary, and Kaci. And my newest plus-kids--Larry and Megan. Each of them fill my life and give me strength in different and unique ways, adding dimension with laughter, an unexplainable kind of love, so much joy, and blessed memories of good times and hard times. They remind me that through it all, they still need me...even when I'm not so perfect. And I need to be needed. I hope they realize how much I need them too.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I hear voices of HOPE--women walking through their own struggles but making each other strong as they share their experiences, their encouragement, their laughter, and their tears. They are the living example of the strengthening strands in that 3-ply cord, each one making the other stronger together as they press on toward God's goal.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I hear voices of WISDOM that have proven true to me again and again--Jeff M., Tom, Paul, Lori, Latimer, and Susan. Though they are not constant, their words rise up to remembrance when wisdom is needed most, pointing me in the way I should go.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I hear voices of SURVIVAL both near and far--Geana, Amy, Emily, and Mary. Their perseverance in the midst of formidable circumstances amazes me. They are overcomers, reminding me that I can overcome too--I can make it. Their stories prove that God IS able and ready to stand in our defense. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> All of these voices build me up, shape me, and give me purpose...So I'm not ashamed to shout it from the rooftops, "I HEAR VOICES!" And through each one of them, God also speaks...Telling me that I am His...That "<i>neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither my fears for today nor my worries about tomorrow, not even the powers of hell... No power in the sky above or in the earth below--indeed, nothing in all creation can ever separate me from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus..." (from Romans 8:38-39) </i>The love of God that is revealed...HIS love revealed through each of these voices. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8307687690385437720.post-44620472962119918712011-09-30T17:27:00.000-05:002011-09-30T17:27:14.907-05:00"FUELED AND AFLAME"<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hmmm... What fuels me? What keeps me going? Well.... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...Anne's contagious laugh and Scottish admonition "Don't be cheeky!" because a year ago, the laugh was all too rare and faint--life was all too serious.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...Jessica's hard questions because I know that she's growing in all the hard places and in asking, she reminds us all that we too have</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> had to grow in the hard places. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...Jenna's insatiable hunger for more of God and her unbridled compassion for others because she is a living picture of "out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...Tamara's initiative to write down her own power verses and tell us about them because she knows now that she CAN. She is empowered by encouragement of others. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...Melissa sharing what she read in her morning devotion because I know her determined dedication to those morning moments with God comes hard sometimes. But through it, she has risen above her struggles. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...Rebecca's randomness simply stating that God makes her happy because I know she is persevering and wading through the hard stuff to get a glimpse of Him. She CHOOSES to rejoice. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...Vera's phone calls asking me to pray for yet another member of her family because she is so committed to bring them ALL to Jesus no matter what it takes. She audaciously believes God will make it happen. And one by one, two by two, they ARE coming to Him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...Random dinners with Jolissa because in reaching out to friends, she is learning to cope with loneliness and to be a positive presence wherever God takes her. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ..."Proud Mama" pictures and posts from Angelica & Carissa because I know their love for their little ones empower them as they strive to be the best moms they can be--even if they have to do it alone.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...The list could go on and on--these women who have touched my life so deeply. THEY keep my flame burning as I can witness what God has done and is doing in each one of their lives and realize how far they've come from where they started. I am fueled, not because of what I've done or haven't done but because of who HE is. These broken, beautiful ladies make me want to be a better teacher and a better woman--to be certain that I "readily recognize what He wants" from me and to quickly respond. The women of HOPE continually remind me that I'm not just a teacher--I am also still a student of life and faith and friendship. As I teach them, they teach me even more.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Living, learning, and teaching HOPE was not in my own original plans, but HE knew what was needed. And He brought us all together in one place. We walk together on this journey of hope--not one ahead of the other, but side by side holding each other up and pushing each other onward... As we place our lives before Him, "e<i>ach of us finds our meaning and function as part of His body" </i>and I am filled to overflowing with the fuel to seek Him more and more and to do whatever He wants me to do.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Take your everyday, ordinary life--your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life--and <u>place it before God as an offering</u>.</b> <b>EMBRACING WHAT GOD DOES FOR YOU</b></span></i><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">is the best thing you can do for Him. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Don't be so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">fix your attention on God. </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You will changed from the inside out.</span> </b>Readily recognize what He wants from you, and quickly respond to it. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Unlike the culture aroudn you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In this way we are like various parts of a human body. </span>Each part gets its meaning from the body as a whole, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">not the other way around. The body we're talking about is Christ's body of chosen people. </span><b>Each of us finds our meaning and function as a part of His body. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn't amount to much, would we? So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ's body, let's just go ahead and </span><b>BE WHAT WE WERE MADE TO BE</b>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren't.</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I'm speaking to you of deep gratitude for all that God has given me, and especially as I have responsibilities in relation to you. </span></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>Living then, as every one of you does, in PURE GRACE,</b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">it's important that you not misinterpret yourselves as people who are bringing this goodness to God. No, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God brings it all to you. <b>The only accurate way to understand ourselves is by what God is and by what He does for us</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><b>,</b> not by what we are and what we do for Him.</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">If you preach, just preach God's Message, nothing else; if you help, just help, don't take over; if you teach, stick to your teaching; if you give encouraging guidance, be careful that you don't get bossy; if you're put in charge, don't manipulate; if you're called to give aid to people in distress, keep your eyes open and be quick to respond; if you work with the disadvantaged, don't let yourself get irritated with them or depressed by them. </span><b>Keep a smile on your face.</b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Love from the center of who you are;</b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>don't fake it.</b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Be good friends who <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">LOVE DEEPLY</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">; practice playing second fiddle. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLESS</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b style="font-size: x-large;"> </b>your enemies; <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">no cursing under your breath. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>LAUGH</b></span><b> </b>with your happy friends when they're happy;<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> <b>SHARE TEARS</b></span> when they're down. Get along with each other; don't be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies;<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> don't be the great somebody.</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b style="font-size: xx-large;">Don't burn out; </b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b style="font-size: xx-large;">keep yourselves fueled and aflame</b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. </span></b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Don't quit in hard times, pray all the harder</b>. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality.</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Don't hit back; </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">DISCOVER BEAUTY IN EVERYONE. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">If you've got it in you,</span> get along with everybody.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> Don't insist on getting even; that's not for you to do. "I'll do the judging," says God. "I'll take care of it."</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Our Scriptures tell us that if you see your enemy hungry, go buy that person lunch, or if he's thirsty, get him a drink. Your generosity will surprise him with goodness. Don't let evil get the best of you; </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">get the best of evil by doing good. </span>-- ROMANS 12 The Message</b></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><div style="font-size: small;"> .</div></i></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02232182933504187346noreply@blogger.com1