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Wednesday, October 3, 2007
There are benefits to living in California. Never mind the earthquakes, the fruits and the nuts, and the over priced real estate. *grin* Now let me remind you I was with my daughter, my twelve-year-old daughter. Do you think she wanted to ride the Teacups or leisurely sail through, It’s a Small World? Oh no, it was a fast-paced, head-jerking, bouncing, weaving, convulsing, scream your head off, dawn-to-dusk, thrill ride, marathon. We rode every single ride, in both parks mind you, where you panick then grab the safety railings with white-knuckled fingers and hang on for dear life. Every ride enticed us at least twice and sometimes more…. Can you see me running around to get in line again? I did! After arriving home that day with a ton of great memories, laughs and a small crick in my neck, my daughter and I collapsed into bed. The next morning is when I realized my folly. I could barely move. I was stiff all over and suffering from a king-sized headache. My shoulders were permanently stiff and gathered up around my poor neck. I hurt from the top of my head all the way to my big toes. I dragged myself to the coffee pot then shuffled to my daughter’s room to get her out of bed and ready for school. She moved slow as well, and then complained about her sore shoulders. That is when I had a V-8 minute. You know this. It’s where you smack yourself on the forehead and a distant memory dawns on you. That miniute I remembered last year’s visit to Disneyland and how the next day was horrid. I recalled my pinch-in-the-neck, headache had lasted for three days. Why, oh, why do I not remember the price I paid last year? Sometimes those unpleasant experiences I endure just don’t stick. Don’t get me wrong, spending the day with my daughter was a blast. But, why didn’t I think to bring along one of her 12-year-old friends? I have thought about this V-8 moment many times this week as I gulped down asprin. Why didn’t I learn the lesson the first time? Then I started to remember all the revisits to the Lord’s classroom. Why, oh, why can’t I get it right the first time? How frustrated God must be. For example, repeating Finances 101 is a recurring habit. God is always there to instruct me about trusting Him. He reminds me, “Lynn, remember when you were a single parent? You learned to live on $25 a week after I helped you pay the bills. Also let me remind you of the time I supplied the exact amount of money you needed to pay the mortgage and how it came from an unexpected source.” Another “do-over” course I attend regularly covers the danger of pride. He also schedules repeaters with regard to James 1:19. I think I am finally getting that one down. However, the Lord’s patient instruction over the years is priceless to me. A treasure I store in my heart. He never fails to show up even when I mess up for the third, fourth, fifth, etc. etc.…… His protection, wisdom, and love never fail. 1 Corinthians 13:4a (NIV) As for the most recent lesson learned, next year it is Dad’s turn! Have a blessed and beautiful day! See you in the classroom.  I would love to visit with you over at my place:  Spiritually Unequal Marriage.Labels: Humor, Love, Lynn's Articles, trust Leave a comment... 9 Comments Links to this post "Are your ears awake? Listen, Listen to the Wind Words, the Spirit blowing through the churches. I'll give the sacred manna to every conqueror; I'll also give a clear, smooth stone inscribed with your new name, your secret new name." Revelation 2:17 This week, my daughter was playing with a new stuffed bear her brother won in a Claw Machine. Exactly what is a Claw Machine? That would be one of those annoying contraptions where you put in $37 worth of quarters to win a $2 prize. Thanks to Claw Machines across the South, we are quarter poor and stuffed animal rich. Luke asked Sydney the new bear's name. We expected an answer such as Cinderella, Frou Frou, or Sally, but instead she said, "Her name is Nothing. She likes being Nothing." And at that, my heart was immediately broken. Not for the bear, but for the many women I know who enjoy being named, "Nothing". I will bet you know at least one, too. Oh, she may not introduce herself in this way, but her actions let you know this is the identity she has embraced. She flounders in her faith believing she is unworthy of God's best. She lingers on the outskirts of the sisterhood assuming her friendship is unwanted. She hides her pain for fear it will bring rejection. In some strange way, she finds comfort in her anonymity because with it also comes the lack of accountability. And Satan laughs because this is exactly where he wants her. God has reserved a new name for those who overcome. The implications of this promise are huge! When a person is named, the one assigning the name is in effect establishing authority over them. It is the same concept as Adam naming the animals in the Garden. In this world where Satan is temporarily prince, he calls us Nancy the Nothing, Wanda the Worthless, Debbie the Defeated. (Disclaimer: I didn't use anyone's name on purpose!) However, Jesus Christ calls us Redeemed. He will give a new, secret name Satan will never be able to defile. I can not wait to know mine. Lisa has been called Loser one time too many. We don't have to wait until Heaven to embrace a new identity. Paul did it. So did Abraham and Sarah. We can lay aside the symbols of our defeat and embrace the authority of Jesus Christ over our lives. He is holding out the stone, but He can't make us take it. If you haven't yet received this gift from Him, will you? Because to Him, you aren't 'Nothing'. You are Everything.  Please visit my personal blog, The Preacher's Wife. Labels: Lisa's Articles, Love, Overcome Leave a comment... 9 Comments Links to this post This past week, fellow blogger Christine sent me a quote for "In 'Other' Words" which read, ~ Henri Nouwen ~ It was God's way of whispering, "I wanted to spend that moment with you." I knew exactly what that whisper meant as my mind travelled back a few weeks to an evening of loneliness when all I could do was drive, and pray, and wipe the tears from my cheeks. Not a wound waiting to be healed. Not a space needing to be filled. A gift. Although I hadn't realized this gift at the time, I did later when I reflected on the alone time I spent with my Lord. The answered prayers in the morning, confirming that He heard my hearts cry. The gift itself wasn't the answer to prayer, it was that moment when my spirit of weakness was laid in His hands. Every once in a while we find ourselves emotionally stripped, as all that life holds is swept away. We find ourselves kneeling at the feet of our Lord, grateful that He's there--His spirit a balm to our weary soul. There have been times that I've felt this throughout my life, and like this time, each one has brought me a little closer to my Lord. I pulled up in the driveway yesterday, and just before I stepped out of the car, the same feelings of loneliness crept up for a second--just a wee second--before a smile spread over my face. "Your grace is sufficient for me Lord," I whispered back at Him, "Thanks for this moment with You." "To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." ~ 2 Corinthians 12:7-10  Visit me at my personal blog: Darlene Schacht dot com :) Labels: Darlene's Articles, Grace, Loneliness, Love, quiet time Leave a comment... 7 Comments Links to this post  On June 15, 1985, I was a college graduate of three weeks and a bride of 24 hours. I remember languishing poolside in Floridian bliss, humming along to the popular song “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” sipping a cold drink and exchanging smiles with my groom. I didn’t want to rule the world exactly, but I did have big plans for my new married life. When I hear the song now, I smile at the irony of the first line: “Welcome to your life; there’s no turning back ….” At 22, what did I know about a commitment to care forever—no turning back? Occasionally, I wish I could return to June 14, 1985, and meet myself as a young bride at the back of the church. I’d whisper candidly to the young me about my expectations vs. the reality of the years ahead. If you had asked me then if I understood the scope and weight of my vows, I would have said yes, but I didn’t really. Being in love didn’t prepare me for those first grocery shopping ventures when I plopped favorites into the cart, and he promptly removed them. I didn’t know that without due warning he would change my radio stations. Who knew we’d spend 22 years disagreeing about how to mow the lawn? And how could I have known that he had a sleeping disorder? Or (and this still puts a chill up my spine) that we would have kids with sleeping disorders? I didn’t understand that he couldn’t be “everything” for me. After all, he was the love of my life, with emphasis on “my.” And that poor groom--he didn’t know the half of his bride’s self-centered capacities. He didn’t know his fun-loving girlfriend would be so uptight about clothes on the floor and dust on ceiling fans. How could an affectionate girlfriend neglect to meet her husband when he walked through the door after work each night? And how did she manage to break so many things weekly? Imagine his confusion about a wife who six months into marriage began daily afternoon naps that merged into nights. Had he married a narcoleptic? No, the power naps were due to the hormonal changes of pregnancy, and he would be a dad in only his second year of marriage. Who knew? God did. He knew we would go through seasons of joy alternated with frustration, depression, family deaths, disappointment in each other and in ourselves. But by the grace of God who remained faithful to us when our commitment has lagged, and through the support of church family and friends, we stand together twenty-two years later. Ecclesiastes 4:12 says, “Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not easily broken.” Three strands: God, my husband, and me. At times, the cord frayed but didn’t break, because ultimately, we love God and value who we are as a couple and a family more than we love our individual selves. Not because we’re noble or martyrs but because God’s spirit in us “grew” this counter-human commitment to something bigger than ourselves as individuals. Based on statistics, it’s a safe bet that without positioning our marriage and family on his principles and grace, we wouldn’t be together today. A line in the aforementioned songs says, “There’s a room where the light won’t find you/holding hands while the walls come tumbling down/When they do I’ll be right behind you ….” In the tropical sun of 1985, I wouldn’t have believed that darkness could ever threaten us. But by banding together when it came and walls fell, we defended each other when one was weaker. And when we were both tired, our anchor strand was strong enough to get us through. I am not as naïve about life and expectations anymore. I do know that when my husband is pushed, I’ll be right behind him, supporting him. When walls tumble, I’ll be right beside him holding his hand. And even if I could time travel and enlighten myself about the triumphs and trials to come, I’d trust in the outstretched hand of my groom at the altar, squish my puffy dress through the vestibule, and confidently meet him there—no turning back.  Please visit my personal blog at 2nd Cup of Coffee. Labels: commitment, Love, Marriage Leave a comment... 13 Comments Links to this post He weeps for her, my friends. He does not laugh, as so many have done at her expense lately. He weeps. His precious daughter cries out in her fear, calling for her mother. And He weeps. And as a shepherd leaves the other ninety-nine to look for the one lost, so He searches for her. I do not keep up with the news so much anymore, but the story of the lonely heiress has captured my heart lately, in a way that has surprised me. You see, I laughed at her. And the moment I did, I felt His sadness. Oh, Beloved. For I, too, have strayed. I left the safety of the fold and wandered, though tags still circled my neck... "My name is Beloved", and "If found, please return me to the Master". Like a bell, they tinkled and warned me that I wandered too far, but I pushed ahead recklessly. And when I strayed so far that I lay weak and motionless, He found me. Carried me to the safety of His fold and secured me there, and then set out to find another wandering lamb. Having been on both sides of the gate, my compassion is great for those who wander. And yet I have stood by and laughed at her pain, delighted in her quandary, safely munching on my green grass and surrounded by others who have been rescued. Jesus called to him, high in the tree, to come down for a dinner party. He knelt and wrote in the sand for her, leading all who accused her to drop their stones. He touched the shriveled hand on the Sabbath. Breathed the same air as the ten lepers. (Luke 19:1-10; John 8:1-11; Matthew 12:9-13; Luke 17:12-19) She is not my enemy. Still, I am leaving the safety of the fold again, but this time it is to stand by her side, and plead for her to God. Join me? (The title of this post, Schadenfreude, is the German word for "pleasure taken from someone else's misfortune.")  You are welcome to visit my personal blog at A Path Made Straight Labels: Elise's Articles, Grace, Love, Prayer Leave a comment... 11 Comments Links to this post I had just walked in the door after managing to dodge the heavy rainfall. It felt good to be home--warm and dry. The crazy morning had me on the run, and I was finally ready to sit back, dig into email, and put my painted toes on a chair. The phone rang. In that moment it took to pick up the phone, I made a covenant with myself. It was a quick covenant because the phone only rang two or three times, so I'm guessing that I can talk at record speed in my brain. Whoever is on the phone, I told myself, is going to get my full attention and care. I'm taking this moment out of my life just for them, for in serving others, I'm serving God. It was my teenaged son. "Mom, you probably don't want this call right now, but it's raining, and I wondered if you could pick me up from school. Sorry to bother you." I had a choice to make--either I could lecture this kid on how I just passed his school 15 minutes ago, but didn't stop because he wanted to stay there, or I could stick with the plan, honor the covenant, and be a servant. I stuck with the plan. "Not at all!" I said, "I'd love to pick you up, where are you right now?" I think the boy must have fallen over, which is a long way to go since he's six feet tall, but if so, he managed to pick himself off of the floor to tell me he'd be at the back door of the school in ten minutes. He made apologies when he got in the car about how he should have told me to pick him up in the first place, how he could have taken the bus in the rain, how he would try to come up with a better plan next time... "Don't worry about it," I said, "I'm happy to spend this time with you." And I was. The rain poured down quenching our thirsty land, as the Spirit moved, quenching my thirsty soul. It felt good to be living my purpose. This little covenant, got me thinking... Since I practiced it yesterday, it served as a constant reminder today to put others first, I mean really put them first--by taking that "moment" out of my life to warm someone elses. To be a servant for the Lord. Yesterday is was this ride from the school; today it was patient understanding in miscommunication. And what will you require of me tomorrow Lord? I am your servant. "And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ." ~ Colossians 3:23, 24 I am a servant, getting ready for my part There's been a change, a rearrangement in my heart At last I'm learning there's no returning once I start To live's a privilege, to love is such an art But I need Your help to start Oh please purify my heart I am Your servant... ~ Larry Norman Visit me at my personal blog: Darlene Schacht dot com :) Labels: Darlene's Articles, Love, service, serving God Leave a comment... 7 Comments Links to this post I ran across a post last week that struck a chord with me It’s a very familiar chord – one that most of us have heard play out at some point in the songs of our Christian lives, but never really stopped to appreciate. See if you recognize it. In her post, Wherein the Post That Was Deleted is Now Restored, Lisa Writes describes an incident where she inadvertently offended someone yet never learned what she’d done to cause the offense and offers us a song of wisdom out of that event. Anyone who has read She Lives for any amount of time is probably sick of hearing me say it on my blog, but I’ll say it again anyway. (You knew I would, right?) Offense is probably the single most effective weapon in satan’s arsenal for dividing Christ’s Church. There! I said it. The English word ‘offense’ is translated from the Greek word skandalon from which comes the root of the English word scandal. One example of where this word skandalon is used in the Bible is at the beginning of the 17th chapter of Luke. Jesus words, “…things that cause people to sin…” is translated from the word skandalon. Literally, skandalon means “the part of a trap on which the bait is attached, and hence, the trap or snare itself…” (Strongs Exhaustive Concordance) What Christ says about offense here is, “Things that cause people to sin are bound to come, but woe to that person through whom they come.” Woe! I don’t want no woe, do you? But offense is bound to come and woe to all those offense-type folks! The New King James Translation puts it like this, “It is impossible that no offense should come.” In this fallen world, there are times when we are going to offend people. And there are times when we are going to be offended. Offense happens in two ways; we can give offense or we can take it. Either way, offense becomes a trap! Christ goes on to say, “It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around his neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin.” The “little ones” described here comes from the Greek word mikros, meaning “…of persons with regard to station or age…” (ibid) So, He could have been talking about children, but in the context these verses fall in, it stands to reason He’s talking about station – the spiritually young. In some ways, that could mean anybody. Each of us is spiritually young in some area. My biggest area of spiritual immaturity comes in the area of mercy. That area of my life in Christ needs to grow! Maybe someone else is spiritually young in their inability to avoid being offended?
Paul does a little re-cap of this thinking in his letter to the Roman church: “Therefore let us not judge one another anymore, but rather resolve this, not to put a stumbling block or a cause to fall in our brother’s way.” Romans 14:13 Jesus then cautions His audience – His disciples – to “Watch yourselves.” Why the warning? Because they would be His emissaries, the preachers and teachers appointed to continue His kingdom agenda after His resurrection and ascension. Once He fulfilled his purpose for entering human history as a man, they were supposed to be the spiritually mature ones. I love how He did not say, “Watch them.” Watch out for them, watch to catch them doing something wrong, watch that they don't mess you over, hold them under a microscope…. No. He said, “Watch yourselves.” It’s mirror time! I love how Jesus issues that very convicting warning, then follows up with instruction. He doesn’t just tell the disciples what not to do, He also tells them what they are to do: “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him. If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, 'I repent,' forgive him.” The word for rebuke used here is epitimao. (Hang with me on the Greek stuff, okay?) Its meaning is different than another New Testament word for rebuke, elegcho, which has a much harsher meaning. Epitimao does not involve convicting a person, but rather confronting them. If they repent seven times…. Wait! Seven times in one day? Doesn’t seem like true repentance, does it? I guess He didn’t say for us to judge whether it’s true repentance or not though, did He? Forgiveness is a huge issue. Much bigger than this post will allow. But I have one question: Are we to undermine Christ’s work on the cross by clinging to our offenses and refusing to forgive when Christ’s death was sufficient to pay the price? Today is Good Friday, commemorating Christ’s death. Let’s think about that a little. Was His death enough to pay for whatever it is that offended us? Is it paid in full? Or do we need to do something else? Like hold a grudge? Like tell others about how wronged we were? Or how bad someone else is? What, exactly, is there left to do? (Okay. So, that was more than one question.) The disciples’ response to Christ’s instruction is probably the most convicting thing about this entire passage for me. They didn’t go on about how all the Pharisees were persecuting them or about how insulting people were in some places where they’d served in ministry with Christ. They didn’t point out how the Roman government was oppressing God’s people or how wicked their world had become. They didn’t blame each other. They didn't dis' their church. They didn’t look for ways to twist scripture around to make themselves look good and make other folks look bad. Their simple response: “Increase our faith!”
 Labels: Carol's Articles, Faith, Forgiveness, Grace, Love, Sin Leave a comment... 8 Comments  I sat quietly by her isolette as the machines offered their beeps and whooshes. I breathed in the medicinal scents and breathed out prayers. I sang to her, touched her little feet, and just waited. The waiting was long- two-and-a-half months- but each day brought us closer to her homecoming. I watched as other babies came and went, and other parents cried and laughed, all the while treasuring even the slightest interaction with my little one-and-a-half pounder. Her hand barely covered my fingernail; her cry was a kittenish one; her fully-opened diaper was the size of a postcard; her chances for overcoming the dozens of hurdles in her path were slim. But we waited.
There were many times I couldn't pray. I was weary, emotionally raw and too much in pain from my csection to think straight. I felt buoyed up by the prayers of friends and family, but at some deep level I wondered what those prayers meant. There were prayers for Madalyn's healing. What if she didn't survive? There were prayers for my strength. Why did I feel as if I couldn't get out of bed? There were prayers for each milestone to be met. What if she didn't meet any? I was painfully aware of the fact that I would not allow myself to think beyond each day. I didn't want to look forward to birthday parties that would never happen, hugs I might not receive, pony tails I wouldn't be able to put in her hair, if...if... I found myself asking my mom this question as she cared for me, "What if she doesn't make it through unscathed; will you love her just as much?" I was so in love with this little skin-and-bones miracle and I was petrified that others wouldn't see her as I did, or even worse, that if something were to happen, even I wouldn't love her as I should. Only when I finally heard God amidst my fear did I relax into mothering this child: As I love you with your weaknesses and shortcomings, so will you love her, no matter what.
That was the moment I learned the true value of prayer. I didn't need a "yes" to my requests, I simply needed to know they were heard. I didn't need Madalyn to be perfect, I simply needed to know that God was in her imperfections. I didn't didn't even need her to survive to understand that prayer was about me and God and how I let Him be my peace. The lessons I learned amidst the machines as I sat near my tiny daughter forever changed my view of God, prayer and unconditional love. As I look at my petite 4-year-old, I remember all that I felt. She did come through unscathed, nothing short of a miracle, but what I see now is that the real miracle was within me- my acceptance, my letting go, my peace. She is who God made her to be, and part of her purpose here was to teach her mom the most precious of lessons.  Labels: Christine's Articles, Faith, Love, Prayer Leave a comment... 17 Comments Links to this post Signs of spring are exploding in my part of the world right now. Out in my garden, the crocuses are spent, the daffodils have been up for a while, the quince bushes are thickly covered in orange, and new plants are poking up through the soil all around my house. Along with the weeds. Many weeds. Yes, it's spring now. And I have a lot of yard work to do. Around my neighborhood, I see everyone's landscaping responding in like manner to these warmer days. My neighbors themselves are no exception as spring calls them outdoors. Short-sleeved kids are out on their bikes. Convertible tops are down as folks drive by. Lawn mowers are cranking up, droning along our street and in the distance. Probably the most obvious sign of spring around my hacienda, however, is the noticeable increase in the numbers of walkers. It's time to get in shape, after all. Time to shed an extra dress size and tighten the belt a notch, I suppose. Swim suit season surely doth approach and nobody wants to get caught hanging on to that extra layer of winter hugging their midsection. So, they power walk by my house alone or with their dogs, pushing strollers or followed by kids on bikes, with a spouse or a friend. If I'm out, they wave. And I wave back. As I pull weeds. I recently heard about a group of silver-haired ladies who were on a mission to walk the neighborhoods of their whole city - one of the least churched cities in America, my sister's city, so I'm working from second-hand experience here. This army of grandma warriors walk different streets in their city each day armed with helmets, shields and swords of the spirit, praying for each house as they pass by. They pray, without knowing who lives in each home, for the residents therein; praying that if they do not know Jesus, they would be led straight to Him. Somehow. In a city with more dogs than Christians. I don't know about y'all, but it's been my experience that hell itself is no match for a spirit-filled grandma! And to have a group of them decked out in the full armor of God, Ephesians 6 style, is a force to be reckoned with indeed. Unbelievers, beware! On this side of heaven I may never know the full results of this ambulatory prayer team. But I do know there has been a rapid growth in the number of people attending evangelical Bible-believing churches in that city. One such church just opened a few weeks ago and had almost 700 people attend services there two Sundays past. After a few weeks. That's just......crazy! The church still has no offices, no child care, no Sunday Schools or youth programs, no permanent staff to speak of, other than the pastor. The building isn't even finished yet and they're already having to move to two services! Obviously, something is going on there. And that's just one church! There are others popping up with similar stories in that city. And people are meeting Jesus. Maybe some-(silver-haired)-body's prayers are being answered? Maybe? When I think about what I want for myself - me, personally - my ultimate goal is to live my life according to God's will and get out alive. I want to get to heaven. And take as many people with me as I can. That pretty much sums it up. When I think about my logistical neighbors and who they are - the power-walkers, the lawn rangers, the dirt diggers, their kids - I wonder if I truly want the same for them - if I truly take Christ's words to heart: "Love you neighbor as yourself." Do I want the same thing for them that I want for myself: heaven? Do I throw on my armor and attack my neighborhood in Jesus' name through prayer? Do I have a heart to see the unchurched, the lost in my community know my friend and savior, Jesus Christ? I won't be power walking this spring, but maybe I can start by praying for those who walk or drive by my home as I take a stand against the devil's schemes with my fingers stuck in God's dirt, the belt of truth around my midsection, the breastplate of righteousness covering my grimy t-shirt, the gospel of peace over my beat-up gardening shoes, the helmet of salvation atop my ragged straw hat, the shield of faith and sword of the spirit in my gardening-gloved grasp. While I pull weeds in Jesus' name. Labels: Carol's Articles, Faith, Love, Prayer Leave a comment... 13 Comments Links to this post
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