1000 Gifts

  " Train me, God, to walk straight; then I'll follow Your true path. Put me together, one heart and mind; then, undivided, I'll worship in joyful fear. From the bottom of my heart I thank You, dear Lord; I've never kept secret what you're up to. You've always been great toward me—what love!  You snatched me from the brink of disaster! " - Psalm 86:11-13 The Message

     Before Thanksgiving, I determined to be aware of life's blessings--to deepen my gratitude for the overwhelming gifts God has given...Leah challenged her facebook friends to post our gratefulness each day before Thanksgiving. I took up the challenge and challenged my friends as did others. One by one , as our friends took up our challenge, they would begin to share their own attitude of gratitude..thanks for the obvious and tangible and also for the intangible and deeper matters of the heart.  Thanksgiving spread like wildfire. It was amazing. But even more amazing was the change I began to see and feel within myself and how I began to see my outward circumstances differently.
     As I began to note God's abundant grace, I began to anticipate the joy, the blessing, and the miracle of Christmas---not just the season but the advent of our Savior, the Jesus who lives and dwells among us today not just that first Christmas so many centuries ago. It changed my outlook on life and my positive change made others around me more positive too.
     Thanksgiving came and went and most of us got out of the habit of posting our gratitude every day---maybe once in a while but not regularly. I missed it...Then I saw a blog "Tall Tales" ( http://sherri-dawn.blogspot.com/ )...Couldn't help but be drawn to a blog by another person with my same name! She was already well into her list of 1000 gifts. I was blessed by her genuine openness as I remembered how focusing on gratitude changed my outlook...and how a little gratitude leads to more grace and more gratitude. Both grace and gratitude multiplies...
     So I decided it was time again for me to focus a little more on both--grace and gratitude. Seems like they go hand in hand and I'm not really sure you can have one without the other...And like so many of those who have joined this adventure, my list goes on and on and on. I'm not sure what happens when we get to 1000. In seeing those means and matters of grace written out one by one even in beginning, I begin to see already how endless is the grace God has given and how abundant is my gratitude for all He has done. Today is just the beginning of a lifetime and I am so grateful for these, His gifts:

1. The Jesus who came would come down and rock me as a child while I "hid" in the laundry hamper. I don't fit in the laundry hamper  anymore but He still comes down and holds me in the darkest places.
2. A freshly mown yard. The contentment of the finished work reminds me how much God has mown down in my spirit. I wonder if he sits on the "porch" to enjoy the moment too....even knowing that soon we both will have to mow again to maintain it.
3. A quiet phone. It doesn't happen often but it assures me that, for a little while at least, there are no crises to answers and no problems to solve. God is taking care of those I love without my help...He always does.
4. Being able to sit quietly with a friend as each one of us does our own work. I remember when I couldn't have done it--I couldn't trust that deep.  There's something about a friendship that doesn't always need words.
5. The men and women who put their lives on the line to protect us. As many of us honor Officer Holder and his sacrifice, we hear stories from the men who served beside him. And we are blessed by his inspiration not only as a police officer but also as a husband, father, a friend, and a man of God. We should all strive to live such a life...

THIS IS MY FATHER'S WORLD

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears 

All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.

      I hadn't heard this in so long until Saturday and it keeps playing in my head, bringing back old memories. It's an old hymn that showed me God was real when I was very little--a theme song in Vacation Bible School. I think that's where my faith---my real faith began. I didn't understand it all but somehow I knew He was there for me and I could bring all my secrets to Him. Maybe that's why I'm still such a cheerleader for VBS--God always shows up and you never know when He may make all the difference for even one single child... That summer, we were outside for VBS closing. Seemed like there were yellow flowers everywhere...or at least that's what I noticed--cannas, gladiolas, marigolds--all yellow. (Yellow flowers are still my favorite!) The memory of it is so clear, I can almost smell their fragrance! The day was sickening hot, with just a little breeze and I already wasn't feeling well at all but I was too shy, frightened, and maybe ashamed to tell anyone why. Traditional church, traditional VBS, traditional song... We always sang every verse (those printed in the hymnal anyway). The week was focused on the Creation Story. I knew God made all this amazing yellow!... On to verse 2...

This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;

In the rustling grass I hear Him pass; He speaks to me everywhere.

     Being so young, I'm not sure how I knew but as we sang, I could feel Him...hear Him. I suddenly realized He was real--not just a story.This was HIS world and He talked to me even if I wasn't big enough or good enough. I wonder if that's the first time I felt the Holy Spirit--the Comforter. Though I couldn't put it in words then, I sometimes felt so alone and those words hit home that day. Suddenly I wasn't alone..But He had something even more significant He wanted me to understand that day as we sang the next verse...

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget

That though the wrong seems oft so strong, 

God is the ruler yet.

This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done...

     If someone had asked me to explain what that meant back then, I couldn't have done it but I knew somehow. Then I'm not sure I cognitively understood what was wrong, but my heart did...And these words were what I needed as if God said, "It's okay, I know everything and it's gonna be okay...I'm here in every moment, good or bad..."

      He stood against evil and despair while I just fought to survive. David's words never rang more true: "You O Lord are a Shield around me; You are my Glory, the One who hold my head high..." - Psalm 3:3
     So young and innocent in so many ways, I didn't know what "should" have been--just how life was. Circumstances didn't change then, but God changed me that day...He gave me something I could hold on to even if I couldn't grasp exactly what happened. Thank God for that childlike trust that God would be God---no room for doubt. My faith took form in that moment--not finished or perfect, but I was (am) the Potter's clay... If I was older, I would have found every argument why He shouldn't or couldn't care. As a grown up, I struggle to trust Him always. It makes me understand why He said we should come to Him as little children...I think trust is innate and we "learn" NOT to trust as we get older and life (not God) deals us blow after blow. By human standards, we have every reason to give up. Yet God continually leads us back to Him....He was all I had then and He brought me to where He's all I have now...We didn't have verse 6 in our hymnal back then but today--all grown up--I am reminded of the peace in His presence as He reveals Himself in the beauty of the spring season...Breathing in the fragrance of new beginnings...In so many ways, I am still alone--empty nest, divorced, still healing...yet somehow content in anticipation of the future. He is my home...

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This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.

In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze

God makes His glory known.

This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roam

Whate’er my lot, it matters not, my heart is still at home.

     Thank You Lord for revealing Yourself to me when I needed You most way back then in VBS and even today. You are still my Shield. Sometimes memories are hard to bear but I love when You remind me how great is Your love. I am eternally grateful that You whispered to Paul as he prayed so many centuries ago even for my fateful childhood moment when my roots grew down deep as Your love surpassed my childhood knowledge. His prayer is precious to me...

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. - Ephesians 3:17-19

THIS IS MY FATHER'S WORLD is public domain....Words & Music by Maltbie B. Babcock

Walking in High Heels AND High Hopes

Last night, the Regional Crime Victims Crisis Center hosted "Walk a Mile In Her Shoes" to raise awareness to violence against women, sexual assault and such crimes. Most of our Mission Abilene staff participated (Anthony  wimped out---oh, well actually, he was doing the dad thing instead so we'll excuse him this time...). It was a riot...all these macho men walking down the street in high heels and smiling about it! Terry even gave a grand gymnastic performance--he tried to somersault part of the way. Gymnastics weren't so great but he gets a 10 for getting up and finishing the walk in his pretty mint green summer sandals. The camaraderie between these men as they all did something together none would likely do alone was a sight to see...And an example of what it takes for women to overcome rape, sexual assault,  molestation, or domestic violence. We overcome...we press on arm in arm with those who "walk" with us. 
   Last night was a light-hearted fun event with lots of laughs and even a humorous speaker with a significant message. And that's what it should be--an event that if fun but passes on a significant message. Of all the men in the "parade" last night, I know at least two men who participated who go above and beyond in protecting, supporting, and/or bringing justice to women and children who are victims...And there's absolutely no doubt there were a few more, though I don't know their names. In confirming the "invitation" to walk in heels, those two men undoubtedly agreed (Chad agreed for the whole staff. Lol!) with reverence to the  women and child victims they have seen in their life and work experiences. 
     I wonder if each man who walked took a minute before, during, or after to recognize that as they walked or stumbled down the street in heels, they could put themselves in one  woman's place--a woman who was raped, molested, beaten with either words or fists, burned, stabbed, shot, or murdered. Each man who stood in heels stood up for thousands of women who couldn't stand up for themselves. I wonder if those men realize how empowering that is for these women. When women live in abuse or hide in the shame of rape, they begin to think they deserve it or that it's "normal."  And though we hear the right things from all the right people, there is something more we get when a man says with all emotion or heart that this is not right, it needs to stop, and most of all, that we don't deserve it. 
     I remember the first time a man (a gentleman in all sense of the word) showed anger toward violence against women or children. But even more, his frustration was more because I didn't realize I didn't deserve it. Honestly, I was totally stunned. I didn't understand it mattered so much before. I remember it so well because that very moment was my first glimmer of hope. He was significant because I respected him so much--I needed to hear it from someone I trusted. This was the moment I began to gain the courage and will to overcome the shame of it though I still had a long journey ahead. For years, I had heard all the right words from others about violence against women generally speaking. It was for everyone else, not for ME. I truly needed to hear this from one who had already proven he wouldn't give up on helping me believe in myself.  And one who was seeking nothing to gain for himself...This man didn't give me sympathy or pity--he gave me first of all, respect--then strength, power, and most of all HOPE to be more than I believed I could be...
    So for all of those men who walked last night...I give you my greatest respect and gratitude. Last night, through your actions, you said, "Wounded, abused, beaten woman...You don't deserve this."  By your silent words but loud actions, you gave victims courage to stand up for themselves. You have given them a voice to speak out with hope. In my opinion, you are all men above other men (literally too, in your new shoes! Lol!) because you didn't just walk in high heels...You walked in high hopes that violence of any kind will stop.  And more than anything, you gave that hope away to any woman--any victim--who is ready to step out of her shoes of shame into high hopes. That's worth much more than you know...May you be especially blessed!
   

Letting Go

     I'm sitting at the hospital at 4:00 a.m. with a friend....again. I've been here with her all too often lately. Basically, her choices land us here time and again for various "reasons" but the true initiator is the same. Life is beyond her control and she's crying for help. Sadly, when "help" arrives, she realizes it means sacrifice on her part and she refuses it again. When it comes right down to it, she hasn't been willing to let go of the old habits, old wounds, and old coping mechanisms that defeat her. She wants change but only on her terms...In other words, she wants someone to save her from herself. Lord knows, we've tried! And God has reached down to save her so many times,but she cuts the tether to every life raft thrown to her. 
     I keep hoping that this time will be different. Something will happen. That others with more legal authority will see the bigger picture and realize her deeper need...that someone will do what we can't do for her. And my heart breaks realizing that even so, it's still all up to her and I'm not sure that she wants change that badly yet. She won't let go of her safety zone ( though not so safe). She can't trust God enough to let go of her fears and her past failures. This whole situation leaves me powerless and frustrated. I watch her life continue to decline...I encourage her, offer resources, and tried and true methods so that she can get her life together (we all do) all to no avail because it means SHE has to give up what she always known for a life that's uncertain even if that means better. I hurt for her. Maybe I'm a little angry with her or with God--I'm not sure which--for allowing the circumstances of her life to defeat her.
     She has no family but a few of us in the church have embraced her as our own. We ARE her family. We've done all we can do. We've provided for her, protected her, cried with her, laughed with her, walked her through devastating grief, prayed with her and prayed FOR her even harder.  I, for one, have spent many many hours in this very same emergency room with her. We've gone the second mile in so many ways. Sometimes maybe we've helped too much. But the truth is, most of us would do it all again...though a little wiser this time. At this point, her welfare and future are out of our hands (as if it ever were). There's nothing left for us to do. It's all up to her. By society's standards, we have every right to walk away but we can't--I can't. She's not just a project or a ministry. She's a beloved sister in every sense of the word. As I sit here and think of the years that have past and the struggles we've faced together, I'm depleted. As she sleeps now unaware, I sit here in tears wondering what happens next.  How far does she have to fall before something changes? 
     Even as I ask myself that question, I realize the greater truth....Just as she has to let go of her old habits, fears, and memories, I have to let go of her.  Let go and let God.  He alone can do what none of us can. I can talk till I'm blue in the face but He can whisper to her heart. My job is to love her right where she is--in whatever state she's in--and let God do the rest. Maybe this is a test of faith or mercy for me. Maybe He's still teaching me what true surrender means....all my life and will. "ALL" goes beyond me. I have to surrender those people I love most too...and those I hate the most for that matter. 
      
      We've been looking at Jesus' final words the last couple of weeks in church. I've looked beyond the sermons and right now, I can't help but think of those very last words before He took His last breath. "Father, into Your hands, I commend my Spirit." (Luke 23:46) I know what He wants from me. Another translation makes it even clearer. "Father, I place my life in Your hands."  
      I can't imagine being Jesus at that very moment. I can't imagine taking my final INNOCENT breath as He did, unjustly dying the death of the worst criminal, yet surrendering Himself to the cross and God's will.  He trusted His Father with His own life and with the sins He bore which were not His own. In His human state, Jesus trusted God with the outcome. I need to do the same with my precious broken friend.  I want to be more like Him--to be that strong and that weak at the same time as I take my hands off or her and any circumstance I face and give God room to do what I can't. Do I trust Him enough?  Oh, there's that word again...Enough. That's what surrender is I guess...trusting Him enough. Trusting Him to take her all the way to completion not just part of the way or where I leave off. I have to trust Him enough to let her go. Do I trust Him enough to keep loving her even if circumstances remain the same and she never changes? Do I trust Him enough to accept His way even if it means I lose her? It's a prayer I should have prayed more fervently from the very beginning with all my heart and not just my words. I hesitate even now knowing that the way to God's answer may be difficult as I surrender this one I love so much.  "Lord, whatever it takes...I place her life into Your hands."  

Do I Trust Him?

 "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts." - Psalm 139:23 


    Listening to yesterday's sermon, I've pondered questions that began with Chad's words and ended with even more questions that linger in my heart. When life is full of struggles, do I still trust Him? When the way is dark and uncertain, do I trust Him? When life doesn't go MY way, do I still trust Him? Do I trust Him now? When I think about past events and periods in my life knowing God brought me through them, I think in Scripture...I can't remember when I started thinking that way but it seems that during the lowest points of my life, God whispered--or shouted--through His Word somehow. I can't say that I always went searching for Him--sometimes I was running as far away and as fast as I could. My faith isn't always so strong nor my will so compliant that I searched His Word instead of my own way but He spoke even when I least wanted to hear Him. Through it all, certain Scriptures somehow made themselves known to me, slapped me in the face, or settled in my heart. His words became very precious, speaking life and love to me when I needed it most.
     I couldn't help but think of all the times God and I have fought that battle of wills: His vs. mine. Every single time, He wins (imagine that!)...yet I still tend to fight. I'm stubborn that way but I'm so glad that God knows me so well. He knows my heart and He has been so patient. Instead of losing patience and giving up on me, He used these times to teach me. He still does. He leads me "in the way everlasting."  (Psalm 139, yes ALL of it--one of the most well-worn pages in my oldest Bible.)
      I think of times when my heart was broken and I lost everything,  He reminded me that I am His and He is mine. Even when life was turned upside down, He was still God. Even now, I hold His words so very close to my heart through every day and every circumstance. "You are Mine....I am the Lord, your God..."  (Isaiah 43:1-3)
     I think of times--even now--when life is so busy, chaotic, and unmanageable. When I'm doing and serving and filling everyone's needs except my own... and all my efforts seem to be in vain. He reminds to stop and focus on Him rather than circumstance. In this very moment, He fills my need as He whispers, "Be still and know..." (Psalm 46:10)
     I think of times when I failed Him so miserably...those times when I willfully took the wrong path. He reminded me that He is always faithful even when I'm not and His love never gives up.  Even today, I have hope because His mercy is "new every morning." (Lamentations 3:19-23) 
     I think of times when my way was dark and life seemed so uncertain.  I didn't understand where God was leading me or how He could use me. He reminded me, "My ways are higher than your ways." When I doubted His purpose and I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel, He promised me, "So you'll go out in joy, you'll be led into a whole and complete life...No more thistles, but giant sequoias, no more thornbushes, but stately pines—Monuments to me, to God, living and lasting evidence of God." (MSG) I still look forward to the day that I'm a sequoia--a stately pine. (Isaiah 55 - There's so much in this chapter, I continuously realize something new as I learn and grow.) 
     So...do I still trust Him? Yeah, I think I do. Oh, not perfectly...not even close! But I do trust Him. He hasn't brought me this far to leave me now. And when push comes to shove, I inevitably hold on to His promise that He will never leave nor forsake me. Yet, in the middle of a moment, sometimes I'm still afraid, I still fall, I still doubt His grace is for me, I still try to escape Him...In those moments, though I KNOW His promises and His Word, I take my eyes off of Him and seek my own way--old coping mechanisms and escape routes--my "back-up plans" in case God doesn't come through like I think He should. So I guess the real question is do I trust Him ENOUGH? ...Enough to let go of my "safety net" (that really isn't so safe)? Enough to stop running from grace? Do I trust Him enough to fully surrender the outcome of every circumstance? Those questions, though so important, are for another time as God and I sort through them together...For now, I will keep Psalm 139 close to heart and be grateful that no matter where I go or how far I run, He is still there. I will trust that the smallest faith can overcome the biggest doubt. I hold on to another of His great promises that even faith as small as the tiniest mustard seed can move mountains (Matthew 17:20) and pray that my moments of doubt are few...


"Lord, I believe; help my unbelief." (Mark 9:24)

The Sound of Your Voice

O Lord,You have searched me 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. Before a word is on my tongue, You know it completely, O Lord. - Psalm 139:1-4

"Hey, Mom..." Regardless what else is happening in the universe, the world just sits better on its axis at the sound of those words. I got a call from Elias, my Marine son who is stationed in Hawaii, yesterday. I haven't heard from him since Christmas so it was really good to hear his voice. For a few minutes, the sound of his voice takes me to a higher place somehow, bringing peace in chaos. He's my son and because of it, his voice reaches a place in me that no one but my kids can reach. Even so, it took a few minutes for us to get in a "groove" with each other again. Elias rarely just "chats" with mom as in letting conversation go wherever it leads. His conversations are usually short and intentional. But when he does just "chat," time stops for a few minutes and He gets my full attention.
      When my kids were younger, I took the sound of their voices for granted too often, not recognizing how quickly they would grow up and move away as their lives go in their own directions. Sometimes I even wished I could get away from the persistent nag or whine of  them calling my name, "Mom, can i? But Mo-o-m! Mom, will you..please? Hey, Mom... Mom...Mom...Mom!"...Little did I know then how precious it was. When I left their dad and moved out on my own, the "quietness" of my new home was the hardest struggle...the most hurtful. No casual chats, no arguments, no guitars and singing, no "extra" kids (We always had extra kids in the house--It's like people thought, "They already have 5--it's not like one more will be noticed but that one was more often 2...3....6), no cheering video games, no "Mo-o-o-M!"  But especially no laughter--I missed that the most. And because I was unable to see them very often in the next couple of years, I missed so much of their lives. They're all grown up now several years since I left but there are still days when I miss the sound of their voices so deeply that it hurts. Turning on the tv or radio or making all kinds of noise can't cover up that kind of "quiet." It's so much deeper than decibels.       
      Elias didn't call for any particular reason yesterday (well, maybe in response to my facebook messages to see if he was still alive). Our conversation covered random topics: his upcoming deployment to Japan, training, Brittany and her boyfriend, his brothers, his dad...nothing life-changing or relevant to any particular purpose. But just the sound of his voice brought a brighter dimension to my day--He's my son and that matters. It's not the things we talked about so much but simply that he shared a piece of his life with me that made me feel at "home" again if even for only a few minutes--"home" at heart anyway. I didn't realize until he hung up how much I just needed to hear his voice--to hear him say, "I love ya, Mom." 
      I don't even know if he says "I love you" because HE needs to say it or because I need to hear it...or if he just thinks he's supposed to. But one thing I know for sure--I love him with all my heart. I love all my kids, I guess, in a way only a mom or parent can. And in hearing the sound of my sons' or daughters' voices, I get a mom-sense of whether they are really okay or not because I KNOW them that well...the kind of "knowing" that is beyond words or knowledge.  Then for a moment after he hung up, I wondered what prompted his call in the first place. Obedience or obligation to Mom's prompting or maybe it was more than that. I wonder if he needed to hear my voice as much as I needed to hear his.
       It kind of made me think about my conversations with my Abba Father--God. How often I forget to "check in" just to share a piece of my life with Him--to catch up. I pray daily but I usually wait to come to him when I have a need or a request--for a particular purpose or intent and usually has more to do with someone else than really knowing Him and letting Him know me. So often the center of my prayer has more to do with ministry and the burden of others rather than just catching up and sharing my heart with Him--the random chitchat that only a parent cares about. There are so many days when I'm lonely, out of place, or life just seems undone, and I "need" something I can't define. If I would stop and just share my heart, maybe He would enter the struggle with me..Maybe my burden wouldn't weigh so heavy. Sometimes weeks go by that I'm just too busy "doing" to stop and just chat with Him. I'm a little ashamed when I realize how long it's been. 
     How quickly I forget how well He KNOWS me...He knows the deepest part of my heart--that "parent" kind of knowing that doesn't require words or context. Maybe in sharing my everyday--the "chitchat" of life, my Abba Father can bring peace in my struggles. Jesus said, "My sheep listen to My voice, I KNOW THEM, and they follow Me." (John 10:27) Some days, I know without a doubt, He calls for my attention and I put Him off, "Well, God I gotta do this first...."  But when I DO stop and talk with Him, I wonder if the sound of my voice touches His heart the way Elias touched mine. Maybe that is all that is needed--my willingness to let Him share in even the smallest details of my life. Maybe as I share my every day, He will share His heart knowing that I need to hear the sound of His voice too. When I'm so undone or disconnected, I tend to push Him away and I feel that same "quietness" as I feel when I miss my kids' voices and laughter. And in those times, circumstance and life overwhelms. Maybe in these moments I have to remember that it's not just about bringing my best, but also my worst and everything mundane in between to my Abba Father. Maybe these are the times I should understand that grace and hope isn't just caught up in my surrender to Him but also His surrender to me...when He speaks life to me.   Maybe the sound of His voice will add that brighter dimension so that I hold on to life. I have to remember not just to surrender but to listen and let Him lift me up..."Listen to His voice and hold fast to Him for the Lord is my life." (Deuteronomy 30:20)  
     When I avoid Him or run from His presence, I wonder if that "quietness" breaks His heart like it broke mine when my kids and I were apart..I wonder if He misses me in the way I miss my kids. I wonder if the sound of my voice is as precious to Him as my children's voices are to me. Undoubtedly, He already knows when I'm not okay but maybe He knows there's healing and hope in heart to heart sharing. I want talk to HIm as a daughter to her Father. I long to hear the sound of His voice.

        Let my cry come right into Your presence, God; provide me with the insight that comes only from Your Word. Give my request Your personal attention, rescue me on the terms of Your promise. Let praise cascade off my lips; after all, You've taught me the truth about life! And let Your promises ring from my tongue; every order You've given is right. Put Your hand out and steady me since I've chosen to live by Your counsel. I'm homesick, God, for Your salvation; I love it when You show Yourself! Invigorate my soul so I can praise You well, use Your decrees to put iron in my soul. And should I wander off like a lost sheep—seek me! I'll recognize the sound of Your voice." - Psalm 119:169-176 The Message

Big Girls Don't Cry...

"You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." - Psalm 56:8 NLT


     Today the band sang one of Tom's songs, "Break Me." He shared how he believes that we have to come to that point of broken surrender to truly worship and praise God. As I sang along, I realized how shatter-resistant I am when I most need to be broken--especially when I'm most deeply wounded or I've so greatly failed. We usually think "shatter-resistant" is a good thing but then there are those moments of intense pain when it's SOooo hard to be strong--when being tough isn't all it's cracked up to be. Have you experienced those times when you wish you could just let the dam loose, fall to the floor and cry till there's no tears left?  But nope! Big girls don't cry and if they do, they sure don't let other people see it. Besides, we're a little bit afraid that if we begin to cry, we won't stop. So we suck it up, take a deep breath, laugh it off, sing louder, make ourselves busy with something... anything! Whatever it takes! Whatever we do,we push through it at all costs--acknowledging and thereby "feeling" no pain. Denial. We refuse to let our hurts or our failures knock us down again, even for a moment so we overcompensate. But there's that small part of us that wonders if maybe there's something about this "fragility" of life. After all, the most precious works of art are the most fragile...But in my own inimitable way of arguing with a tree when I'm fighting most desperately to put up those proverbial "walls" and defenses, I reason, "How valuable are those priceless treasures when they're broken? They're just worthless broken shards of trash."
    It's almost like the "stubborn" part of me defines my own brokenness by the measure of my tears and I don't want to be a crybaby so I refuse to be broken. As long as I'm whole and "together" (however fragile), I have something valuable to offer. But if I break, I have no worth--useless. When I cried as a kid, someone would laugh and hold up a cup to my face and tease, "Aw come here, you want me to catch your tears in a cup?" I didn't know what it meant then, just that the taunts made me feel like my tears didn't matter so much--my hurt didn't matter whatever the reason. Or if some were less patient, "You better dry it up or I'll dry it up for you!" And, not quite wanting to know how that would happen, I did just that--no more tears. It wasn't such a big deal I guess but it became "habit" as I got older and I was more determined not to let anyone see my tears. So maybe I quit "responding" to hurtful events "normally"--whatever that is. Oh, it's so easy for my heart to break for others but not to break for me. And I have shed many tears over the hurts and sorrows of others but not so much just for me...I just "dry it up." No tears--no pain. Right? 
     Then  there are moments like this morning as we sang..."I will never really worship You until You break my heart...I will never really praise You until my will is gone..." And I wonder about brokenness. Sometimes I'm just tired of "being strong." I knew Tom was right and I longed for that brokenness--to let down my guard and trust that my tears matter to Him so much that He remembers and cherishes each one. Tears in a cup--in a bottle and it isn't a joke to Him. He isn't ridiculing my weakness. But in the very same moment, I braced myself almost without thinking against "feeling" what I've denied. I remind myself, "Big girls don't cry!" So I dried it up again and the coldness of it was a little too real. As if over time, I've become cold and numb at the threat of tears--big girls don't cry, big girls don't cry...And the bigger the hurt, the more determined not to cry. No tears for me, thank you! It's the effect of repeated hurts I guess. The best word picture I can thing of is a beating: When beaten, you feel blow after blow until some point you don't feel it anymore--you become numb. The abuse "speaks" and you hold on to every silent word, more firmly with each hit but but you don't dare respond. You "choose" not to feel it. If you don't feel it, it doesn't hurt...or does it? 
    The past couple of years, it seems like I found my life again--I live it, breathe it in, and FEEL life as it happens--like waking from a long sleep. God has accomplished amazing things in my life. So today, I guess I was a little shocked to realize that there's still a part of me that remains so dead--that instinctive nature to go cold and distant when overwhelming real and present circumstances take me back to those places in the past. It's easier to escape--to choose not to "feel" and pretend--to "decide" to be okay regardless of the cost. Even if it defeats all that God as accomplished in teaching me to be "real" with myself, with God, and with people--especially with those who taught me. I know it's an instinctive self-protection mechanism. The coldness as I realized it was so familiar and perversely comfortable in a way--like an old enemy you can count on when you can't count on anything else. I slipped back into that old pattern without a thought--just by habit. Here's where I find myself. Still can't cry...won't cry over certain things anyway. And I was disappointed that I wasn't as "free" as I thought--that some of the "old" still remained firm.
    And now, I realize that even that disappointment was another way just to avoid "feeling" the circumstance that brought about the coldness in the first place--the trigger. Still numb. So I'm not sure which is my greatest failure--that I fell prey to circumstances or that I went on "automatic" and responded the same way I've always done. If my prayer truly is that God would break me and melt me, how will it happen? How do I get from here to there? How do I keep from letting those old hurts speak so loudly that they shut me down, even without words? 
    I wish I had some amazing wisdom here but I don't. I think of the words to Tom's song..."until my will is gone."  Is that it?  That my will is still so stubborn that it won't bend and I keep reinforcing the walls every time I get backed into a corner? I know without a doubt that brokenness is truly beautiful--I've experienced it. With some of the women I've reached out to, I've witnessed how their tears are a source of healing, cleansing, and renewal. Their tears are a part of the process. And a few times, I've let myself cry.. rarer moments when I am fractured, fallen, and so completely out of control. Those rare beautiful moments because the sun stood still for just a little while, time stopped, and I didn't have to put on such a brave front--even for a short while. Survival wasn't up to me for a few moments. But then the "rare" moments are over all too quickly so I dust myself off and get back to the business of life and ministry and survival. Big girls don't cry. Big girls don't cry...
     But maybe the key is that WITH brokenness, there must be that surrender--that complete, constant, and conscious surrender of my will. I have this heart picture of the uninvited prostitute who entered the home of Simon the Pharisee to see Jesus. She was in tears as she fell at His feet, big drops falling on His dirty, travel-worn feet. She took off her headwrap and let down her long hair. She gathered her hair in her hands and used it to dry the tears on His feet. She carried a beautiful alabaster jar of expensive perfume--such as only harlots and the very wealthy would have. As she anointed His weary feet, she bowed down and kissed them out of love and surrender to His grace and mercy...Kissing feet was the humiliation of the most shameful. 
    She was not a proud woman--she wasn't there to do "business" or to prove anything. She was broken by the weight of her sinful past. She came to a house where she knew she would not be welcome simply because Jesus was there. She needed to show her gratefulness for His amazing grace and forgiveness--no humiliation was too great a price. Yet she arrive, considering herself no greater than the lowest servant whose task would be to wash the guests feet--yet none of Simon's servants had washed Jesus' feet--no one until this shameful prostitute. She didn't anoint His head as the "righteous" would. She fell at His feet--the lesser part--and wiped away her tears off His feet with her hair. 
     Simon was disgusted that this woman dared to show her face in his house at all--she should be ashamed. The entire event caused quite a stir around the table as Jesus sat so patiently as she exhibited such a display of wrought emotions. She wept openly and unashamedly. Women didn't let their hair down publicly--it was an act of intimacy. Yet here this woman came in a Pharisee's house and took her hair down in the midst of them to wash Jesus' feet...That was just a servant's task--it was an intimate gesture of love and devotion. Jesus had touched her life in a way no other man ever had and it had nothing to do with sex, money, position, or possession. He LOVED her with all of His heart just as she was. He loved her the moment He laid eyes on her the first time, the moment forgave her past sins, and even now as she demonstrated her love for Him...Her life had been shattered by sin, shame, and circumstance as she fell in tears at His feet. She could have stopped right there and it would still be a sweet story. But she finished it. In the next moment, she surrendered all of her life to Him--her entire past, the sin, shame, pain--all that she had been before and all that she would ever become.  She anointed His feet with that costly perfume in honor of who He was, as if to say, "Not my will anymore--but Yours."
     Broken and surrendered at the feet of Jesus. giving Him everything. Others in the room shamed her but Jesus lifted her up. As they looked down their noses at her, He looked on her with love and compassion. He made her beautiful to behold in that very moment, "Though her sins have been many, she has been forgiven much because she has loved so much..." Her knew her heart. He gave her not only redemption but also her own chazown for her future, "Your sins are forgiven...Your faith has saved you. Go in peace."
    In that moment, Jesus took every shattered piece of her life and put her together again--a new work of art, more beautiful than ever. I want to BE her. I want to be that brave. I want to be that willing to be broken even when I'm most ashamed--to be able to surrender everything I've ever been, everything I am, and everything He will make of me. 
    The band led us in "Surrender" a couple of songs later this morning and one small phrase in it is so significant in the midst the rest of the song: "I LAY IT DOWN FOR THE SAKE OF YOU, MY KING." That's it!..That's what she did! She braved the ridicule and shame. She risked rejection. She humbly fell at His feet not for her sake but for His...That's where her strength and courage came from. I can't do this on my own--I can't surrender for my own sake or survival but rather for the sake of my Savior...To be broken, surrendered, put back together again, and used for His glory....
     I'm giving up MY dreams...for Yours.
     I'm laying down MY rights...in surrender to Your will.
     I'm giving up MY pride...because without You, I am nothing.
     I surrender ALL to You...only You.



  " My enemies will retreat when I call to You for help. This I know: God is on my side! I praise God for what He has promised; Yes, I praise the Lord for what He has promised. I trust in God, so why should I be afraid? What can mere mortals do to me?
     I will fulfill my vows to You, O God, and will offer a sacrifice of thanks for Your help. For You have rescued me from death; You have kept my feet from slipping. So now I can walk in Your presence, O God, in Your life-giving light." - Psalm 56:9-13 NLT

Lord, I want to live my life so completely broken and surrendered to You--FOR You. Yet these remnants of coldness remain--You know what lies behind them. Break me, melt me, till I'm lost inside Your fire. You know where I need to break, what I have yet to surrender to You so I'm no longer a victim to people or circumstance...And if that brokenness includes those unshed tears, make me big enough to cry.  And let those tears be a source of healing and courage and diamonds of grace not for me but for others. Use them for Your sake and Your glory.