GOD'S POETRY

Me and sweet Paula at DRI's monthly Worship service

 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 Disability Resources, Inc. 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.

Chad sharing Ephesians 2:10 tonight

     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.
     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 DRI's grounds sometimes struggle so hard to hold on to those same truths. They teach us.
     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. 
     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.
    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...

The beautiful people of DRI in 2014... Photo credit to: Disability Resources, Inc.

Photo credit to Disability Resources, Inc.

Photo credit to Disability Resources, Inc.

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 www.driabilene.org or check out their Facebook page.

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.

Only a few of the winners at the 2014 Special Olympics.

Photo Credit: DRI

Some of the guys at 2014 Special Olympics. Photo Credit: DRI

2014 Special Olympics...Running the race (Hebrews 12:1)

Photo Credit: DRI

The DRI Bell Choir rehearses for hours to reach perfection.
Makes your heart soar to hear them.
Photo Credit: DRI

FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY: THE VISIT

 Linking up with Lisa Jo today. Five minutes of writing. Prompt word: VISIT.

    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. 
     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:

"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)

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.

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)

STOP. FIVE MINUTES UP.


Extra note:
      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.
     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.
     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.
     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.
     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.

      

ON MY KNEES

Come, let us worship and bow down. 

Let us kneel before the Lord our maker,”  -  Psalm 95:6

 

     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. . ." 

     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. 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 Your 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. 
    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.  
     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. 

"When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth.  I pray that from His glorious, unlimited resources He will empower you with inner strength through His Spirit.  Then Christ will make His home in your hearts as you trust in Him. . ."  - Ephesians 3:14-17 

Annie Downs, 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 Dayspring 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.

Song quoted is "Beloved" by Tenth Avenue North.

FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY: RHYTHM

     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!
    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. 
    And then Joanna Weaver's words caught our attention, "She found a rhythm. . .She established her center, then let everything move around that." 
    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... 
     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.

STOP

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.) 

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."

FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY: VIEW

Linking up with Lisa Jo today for Five Minute Friday...The prompt is "VIEW."

     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.
     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 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.
     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?" 
     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. My long-time furrowed brow begins to relax. I didn't even realize how hard I've been straining to see! In a moment, with my new lenses, my view has changed. What a difference new lenses can make! Why did I wait so long?
    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.  

FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY: BRAVE

     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?" 

     "No one. I came by myself."

     "Wow. you're brave! You flew all by yourself from Texas?! You didn't know anybody? I could never...." (We were in Nebraska.)   

    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.

     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. 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. 

     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.

"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'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!!!)

LOVE SO TRUE

     

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. 
     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. 
     "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...

God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble,
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea..."  -  Psalm 46:1-2

² 

     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. And Frank has. Jesus knows. And his Beloved knows... It's the 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 sure he would echo to her that famous Jack Nicholson line, "You make me wanna be a better man," and he would mean it.
     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:

"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

     "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."

     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.

BE STILL...

  

    "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." 

- Luke 10:41-42 -

    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.
     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..." 
     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. So 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. 
     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... 

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...

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...

The Lord almight is with us... He says "BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD. I WILL BE EXALTED..."  -  Psalm 46

EMMA ROSE

    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.   
     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...When NightLight began months ago, we never realized that our ministry would bring us here. 
     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. 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. 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. 
     "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.
     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?
     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. 
     

OUR BOOK IS ON SALE!

     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.

     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

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.

Our next book, "Echoes of the City," will soon be ready for publication.

MY NEIGHBOR

     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?
     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. 

RELENTLESS

     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.

     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. 

     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. 

     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...

HE LOVES ME ANYWAY

     "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. 

     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.

You have searched me, Lord, and You know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;

You perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;

YOU ARE FAMILIAR WITH ALL MY WAYS.

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. 

Before a word is on my tongue, You, Lord know it completely

You hem me in behind and before, and You lay Your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

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! 

Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, You are there;

If I make my bed in the depths, You are are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,

Even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast.

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; 

The night will shine like the day for darkness is as light to You.

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; 

Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

¹

    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. 

     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...

      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.

(He loves you anyway, too...)

Scripture is from Psalm 139 NIV.

IN THE WAITING

     
     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." 
     The waiting room is a place of pain, anxiety, worry and fear--and sometimes, 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. 
     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. 
     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.
     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.    
     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.
     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.
     I remember other waiting rooms... 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. 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.

"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

HE WOULD STILL BE TRUE

  

 A while back, we were studying Romans in "The Voice" translation in staff meeting. 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, "If every person on the planet were a liar and thief, God would still be true." (Romans 3:4 The Voice)
     I was jarred by the truth of it then and still today when I think of the reality of who God is. His existence 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.

     God is not a god of our own making. He doesn't fit in a pretty little box. He even told us, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word WAS God...” (John 1:1) 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. 
   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?!

     I was reading through some chapters Chad 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 I 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?

IF JESUS WERE ME...

   

  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.  
    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.
     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. 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. But you know--every once in a while, in the middle of my own struggles, their shoes just don't fit. So what to do?....
     WWJD... Walk where He 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?
      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? 
     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. 
     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)

THIS IS MY STORY, THIS IS MY SONG...

"...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."

 Hebrews 10:22 NIV

   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 Fanny J. Crosby 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: "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine..."
     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, "This is my story! this is my song! Praising my Savior all the day long!..." I must have been quite a sight. This skinny little freckle-faced girl... 
     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. 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. 
     I look now at the words of "Blessed Assurance" and realize why they have held my heart captive my whole life. "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine..." 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
     "Perfect submission, perfect delight...Angels descending, bring from above, echoes of mercy and whispers of love." 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.
     "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." 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.
     "This is my story, This is my song! Praising my Savior all the day long..." 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."
     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. 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 IS 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. "This is MY story, this is MY song..." so yes, for all He is and all He has done, I will praise Him all my life long.