Captive Thoughts

New Project!

2011-09-27T15:32:00.002-04:00

I've started a new blog that is closely related to the blog I kept last year called "The Home Life Improvement Project." I hope you'll check it out!

More Butterfly News

2011-08-20T20:33:00.001-04:00

Icky Picky has emerged. It's been three hours and he's still not showing any signs of wanting to fly. His personality is holding true.

I did some more research today. What we have raised are actually Eastern Black Swallowtails rather than Anise Swallowtails. I had no idea how many varieties of Swallowtails there are!

I also discovered how to tell the difference between males and females. Our Firstborn was a female. Icky Picky is a male. How to tell? Pretty simple. Like most in nature - the male is prettier.

It's hard not to watch their metamorphosis and not be amazed at the creativity of their Maker. Everything about them speaks of wonderfully intelligent Creator. One who lovingly thought of every last thing.

There's also a good deal of spiritual insight to gain from observation. I'm not the first to come to that conclusion, but it's been reiterated to me as I took care of them. I guess if I could put it into one sentence it would be this: I'm not yet what I'm going to be. I'm lumbering around doing my best to stay fed and not let anything eat me... I sometimes look up at the sky and long to jump and find myself soaring on eagle's wings. I can almost feel the wind lifting me higher and higher if I close my eyes and dream.

Reality is pretty harsh as a caterpillar. But God promises that the transformation will not be complete until I am no longer earth-bound.

I'm looking forward to that. One other thing the caterpillars reminded me. Sometimes it seems like people are stuck in their chrysalis. They haven't moved in days and it's easy to think maybe they're just dead. Maybe hope is gone.

But keep watching, and we might be surprised to suddenly see beauty emerge.

It's an hour later and Icky Picky has finally decided he's ready to go. I'm going to try to upload our video from his goodbye. (And yes, he took his time. It's a long video.) Tried twice. And admitted I don't know how to upload a video. I've done it before, but apparently I have forgotten or blogger has changed. If anyone can help me I'd appreciate it!

The Life and Times of Icky Picky

2011-08-19T15:35:00.000-04:00

Meet Icky Picky the Caterpillar.

We met Icky for the first time when we were wading through the sea of weeds that has become our garden. He and his brothers and sisters (not quite sure about the gender issue when it comes to caterpillars) were living on our parsley.

We thought at first we had found Monarch butterflies. We were in a panic wondering where we might find some milkweed for our newly captured babies. Fortunately at some point my brain kicked in and I realized that if they were living on our parsley, they must eat parsley. This led me to discover in the internet sea of information that we had actually adopted Anise swallowtail caterpillars.

And so Icky Picky and his six siblings found a home in our old fish aquarium. They ate all the parsley from our garden as they grew into very fat caterpillars. Two of them died, but the remaining five have all shed their skin for a chrysalis. One has shed his chrysalis for the sky.

I can't tell you Icky Picky's story yet. He's still resting in the hole of the rock. He is the only one of our caterpillars we named, because we discovered that he had a unique personality. Yes, caterpillars have personalities. Who knew? I'm sure someone did, but not me. Icky Picky is a particular sort of creature. Whereas our firstborn found a spot to rest in a matter of minutes, Icky Picky searched for the perfect spot for an entire day. Over 24 hours he roamed. I put him back in the aquarium five times. Finally he settled in the shelter of the fish tank rock. Besides the firstborn who has already taken to the sky, his other siblings have not moved since they went into stasis. Every time Icky Picky is disturbed, he twists and turns in protest.

THE LIFE CYCLE OF A BUTTERFLY

This was the smallest one we found. He was hard to see at first.

What they look like just before they make their chrysalis.

Our firstborn after he picked a spot.

Firstborn shedding his skin.

Firstborn was green after he shed his skin. The two on the rock turned the color of the rock. Who knew they could camouflage themselves?

Firstborn just after he fell out of his chrysalis.

After 2 1/2 hours of drying.

When it was time to set him free, Eldest helped him out on a stick. He climbed up onto her arm before he flew away.

Icky Picky is next. We're all keeping an eye on him.

To sum up? It's one thing to learn about the life cycle of a butterfly. It's quite another to experience it.

Finishing Well

2011-08-01T14:37:00.002-04:00

Eldest daughter is standing in front of our very own Santa Maria replica that permanently rests in the river downtown. We recently visited after studying about Christopher Columbus in homeschool.

The tour guide on the ship told us a story I hadn't heard about the unfortunate fate of the Santa Maria and her crew. Christmas day of their voyage, the entire crew (including Christopher Columbus) got so drunk they all passed out. Only a twelve-year-old boy was left to man the ship. He did his best, but managed to wreck the boat on a Haitian island.

Columbus was determined not to be defeated. He used the wreckage of the ship to build a fort, and left the entire crew there at the fort until someone could return for them, and sailed on aboard one of his other two ships.

When someone did return, they found the fort destroyed and every man (and child) killed by natives.

I was reminded of this story yesterday evening as our youth pastor reminded us of the life of Solomon. Solomon was given every advantage a king could require to rule his people well. Not only was he the son of the greatest king that ever lived, he was raised to know the law of Moses, which explicitly carried instructions for kings. Beyond all of this, God himself endowed Solomon with wisdom that was unheard of before that time or since.

And Solomon did well. For awhile. But all of his advantages led him down a path he couldn't resist, even though he knew better. 700 wives, 12,000 horses and way too much gold and silver later, he sadly wrote at the end of his life that he had missed the boat. Too late. "Fear God and keep his commandments." he wrote. "This is the whole duty of man."

I'm humbled that I don't have to learn the hard way. I can take a good hard look at Solomon and remember how he felt about all the things he had put his trust in after he got them. They defeated him. They crippled him. They tore his heart away from his Creator, where it had rested safely and peacefully, and caused him to fall in a way that ruined his life and his effectiveness.

When I add this to the message from Pastor Sol yesterday morning, I have the missing piece of the puzzle that Solomon forgot. "God's work is always accomplished through God's power." If I try to stay on the right path in my own strength, I'm destined for failure. The trick is keeping hold of the humility it takes to keep every step of my life focused on Christ.

As I hope to move forward in my writing, there are two things I've been praying for with fervency. They come from a song from Matthew West called "Stop the World." I need to be humble, I need to have nothing to prove.

And if God can remind me of that, every day, for the rest of my life, I hope I will be able to finish well.

And you as well.

Credible Fiction

2011-07-26T14:18:00.000-04:00

My dad shared a quote by Mark Twain today on Facebook. "The only difference between reality and fiction is that fiction must be credible."

Ha. It's the truth! Reality is full of awkward pauses, unbelievable happenings, and unsolvable dilemmas. But fiction must always make sense, must always resolve, must always have a point.

I'm okay with that. I feel very frustrated by reality when it doesn't make sense. This is probably why I am a fiction writer. I prefer my world to be neat, orderly, and flowing with beautiful symmetry and meaning.

And so I have been writing, which is my lovely excuse for refusing to blog lately. I have been lost in the world of fiction.

I am trying at present to gain some self discipline in my writing. I love the first time, rough draft writing part. I love to shape the story and piece it together and add the dialogue. I don't even mind the second pass, fixing typos and awkward grammar.

After that, I get unreliable. Writing the proposal, doing intensive repair, sending queries to agents and publishers... I do it once or twice and then give up and start writing a new story. But this won't do. If I'm going to spend so much time writing, it can't be for me alone. I have to learn how to write in a way that others will learn and grow from, as well as be entertained by. I think I'm getting closer. But I must to learn to polish.

I'm presently trying to fix a novel from three years ago and get it ready to submit to a pretty big contest in September. This is not going well. I really, really just want to write my new novel. I've grown as a writer in three years, and it's tedious to try to bring my previous level up to my present level. Part of me just wants to give up on the old story and try to finish the new one in time. But I feel like the old story is one that needs to be told. I feel like if I could get it right, it would have a place.

So far my discipline is not impressive. So I'm putting myself on notice, and if you know me, remind me. Just say "edit before create."

And thank you to those of you that reminded me that I do have readers for my blog. I'm sorry this place has been so deserted. Thank you for sticking with me!

Just Like Grandma

2011-06-06T23:14:00.000-04:00

Anyone who knows me knows how incredibly much my Grandma means to me. She left this life last year, and I still feel her absence as acutely as I did when she died. I remember sitting at her funeral, staring at her, wishing that I could will her to get up out of that casket. She looked like she was only sleeping. It would have been just like my Grandma to play a joke like that. Make us think she was dead, only to pop up in our face and yell "BOO!"

Just get up, Grandma. Please.

I knew it was a ridiculous idea. But that's the way my Grandma was. It was really hard to believe that she was really gone, that she really wouldn't get up again. That she wouldn't squeeze my hand with more power than an eighty-something year old woman should possess. She wouldn't smile in that Grandma way and make that sound like she was stuttering over her words "Uhb Uhb Uhb..." before she said something silly.

I loved you for being my silly, playful Grandma.

I had almost forgotten those funny Grandma sounds until a few days ago. My 7 1/2 year old daughter was talking, and suddenly, in the middle of her sentence, she did it. "Uhb Uhb Uhb..."

JUST LIKE GRANDMA.

It was as if Grandma had gotten up and walked into my house and spoken to me through my daughter. Or maybe God just made sure that my girl got that one special gene from her that would make her say that phrase just like Grandma said it just for my sake. So I would know that she's not really gone. She's still around. Not only is she with the Lord, with her one true love Grandpa - waiting for me and everyone else to join the party - but she's here. She's in my mom. She's in my aunt and my cousins and my sisters and all of our children. And those little things that made her our special little Grandma were passed on, so we could remember her. Even when she's not here to talk to anymore.

I miss you, Grandma. But I'm glad you left quite a few little parts of yourself here. I can't wait to see you again.

The picture captures the moment that I introduced my firstborn daughter to my Grandma.

Jump!

2011-04-16T21:48:00.002-04:00

I'm a biggest loser fan. I must admit to it. I'm a sucker for people changing their lives in big ways for the better. In fact, as I tell my children, I'm trying to be the biggest loser myself these days. 15 pounds down, a few more to go.

Anyway, this past Tuesday night, the group went to New Zealand, and they had to climb this sky tower all the way to the top, which was some insane number of stories. Let's just say all the people and cars looked like ants when they got to the top. And when they got up there, enjoying the view safely behind glass windows, Bob bounces in and tells them that they have a choice - climb back down the stairs.... or jump.

My own mind took a particular course as I put myself in their positions. This wasn't just some observation deck overlooking the city - this was HIGH. I'm not intensely afraid of heights, but it made me a little queasy just watching the view from my recliner in my living room.

Surprisingly, all of them were for it except one. And he was probably the only one that was really thinking straight about it. I was with him all the way as he inched his way out onto the launch area. I understood when he was breathing in and out and staring in horror below, trying to imagine himself flying through the air, putting all of his faith in a few cords that were supposed to break his fall and let him land safely on that tiny little X at the bottom.

He waited. And waited. The employee who suited him up and hooked him on said "One two three go!" but he didn't go. And I didn't blame him. But all of the sudden, he got this look of sudden determination. As if he were realizing that he didn't really have a choice. It would be a letdown for him and the whole world watching if he didn't jump. He probably knew that he would regret it forever if he didn't take one more step forward and let fate have his life.

He jumped. And after the moment of extreme terror when he first let go, suddenly his face became relaxed. His arms went out. When he got to the X, he was smiling and cheering. He realized that letting go of fear, embracing the inevitable truth before him was a moment in his life that he tasted freedom.

It occured to me that it must be just like that for someone to make the decision to follow Christ after living in this world into adulthood. I have a hard time imagining it, because I was six when I jumped, and even then, it was more of a formality because I had never made a decision NOT to follow Christ. I deepened my commitment when I was 13, and then again when I was 18, but I have never placed myself on the opposing side where Jesus is concerned.

I imagine it is kind of like standing at that launch area, looking down at all the ant-like cars and people, and trying to understand why it is so important that you jump off and let invisible arms catch you and break your fall. You know you should, you know it won't make good tv if you chicken out, but it's big. It's really big. What will everyone think of you after you jump? What will have to change in your life that you really aren't prepared to let go of?

So many questions. But in the end there is only that still small voice, so loving, so insistent... calling YOUR name. "Jump. I'll catch you. I promise. I've never missed, I've never even come close to dropping anyone. You'll be safe. Much safer than you are on that ledge."

To me - the answer is easy, because I know the voice. I trust him with everything I am, and it's true - he never disappoints. He's stronger than my image of strength can even project.

But when you're the one on the ledge and you hear him calling, what will you do? Will you jump? Will you abandon all and let go of yourself, of your ambitions, of your desire to hide your failure and display your pride and confidence... and admit you need him to catch you?

Because in the end, we all have to jump. And it is our decision how we make that jump. With his help, or to his sorrow.

And if you jump into his arms, get ready for the rush of your life! Get ready to breathe your first real breath of air. Get ready for every dream of your heart coming to life in front of your eyes.

That's what Jesus is.

White Tulips

2011-03-07T22:22:00.002-05:00

There's a great show I like to watch. I'll go ahead and admit I love to watch it. In this show recently there was an episode where one of the main characters told someone that he had asked God for a sign that all the terrible things he had done over the years were forgivable. He thought that if God could forgive him, perhaps his son could as well. He asked that if God were willing to forgive him, that he would show him a white tulip, even though it was Boston and winter.

He's a fictional character. But he brings to mind all the people out there living their lives and plodding along, trying to put one foot in front of the other one - wishing that somehow there were a way to erase all the mistakes, all the bad choices, all the sin they've been responsible for. If only God would send a sign that he was willing to forgive.

God did. A sign more beautiful than a white tulip. He sent his own Son to bleed his life out for every last one of us that know we don't deserve forgiveness. He took our place, sacrificed his sinless self so that we could absolutely beyond a shadow of any doubt know that we are forgiven, if we only ask. He was raised again to life to prove that God has power over death, which we only face as the result of sin.

Now it's my prayer that I can be that white tulip. Help others see through my life, though faltering and imperfect, that I am forgiven. That I am loved. That there is nothing in this world, nothing we could do that could keep a single soul out of God's incredible love and desire for relationship.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:6-8

Digging Deeper, Flying Higher

2011-02-26T15:53:00.002-05:00

I've returned to my website after trying another blog experiment. I've found that I most definitely prefer writing my quiet thoughts and happenings rather than attempting grander notions of gathering readership through this method of writing.

I don't count it as a failure, even if it is. I learned so much about myself and about who I am as a writer by trying something new. I know now that my heart is for fiction, and I'm excited about getting on with two stories I've begun and continuing the process of learning and growing as an author.

Just about every last ounce of my energy in this time of life goes to my family. I suppose that is the way it is when you are a wife and a homeschooling mom of four young children. God is teaching me to take a step at a time and not to try to rush or grab for visions and dreams that He hasn't allowed yet. It is the time of my life to give my all to my family. And that's okay. There will be days coming when they will not need me the way they do now. That will be okay too, and I'm excited to know what new adventures and ideas God will have waiting there for me to pursue and experience.

Life with Jesus keeps getting sweeter. The more I know him, the more I trust him, the more I am okay with this broken world being less than what I hope. This isn't the final destination. And everything that comes to me has been filtered through loving hands. There is no reason not to trust.

And so I will trust.

Picture taken by Kathy Kirtland.

A New Project

2010-06-17T23:19:00.004-04:00

I've started a new project. I'm putting myself on notice with the blog "The Home Life Improvement Project" that in the next year I and my family will become more responsible in the areas of finances, environmental issues, health, our relationship with God and with others. If you are curious, if you would like to join the project or if you just want to make fun of me, feel free to check it out!

Click on "A New Project" to find out more.

This Crazy Life of Mine

2010-06-15T15:37:00.004-04:00

"When are you going to blog again?" a friend asks.

Oh, yes.. blogging. Right after I get the laundry caught up, do a load of dishes, change diapers, feed everyone... then I'll blog. Wait - first I need to get on the elliptical for awhile and shower, then I better vacuum because the dog hair is piling up - oh, and then we have a doctor's appointment to evaluate that cyst growing on the back of Hannah's knee... Maybe tonight after I make dinner, clean up after dinner, give baths, put clothes away - then I'll have a chance. As it turns out - storms roll in, and Talia wakes up screaming. That sets John off. John doesn't return to sleep for another hour or so - well after my own bedtime. And by that time in the middle of the night I am doing well to read my Bible and pray for a few minutes... eyes close... it all starts again!

That wasn't my answer. "I've been researching for my next novel."

"And you have four children?" she reminded me with a smile.

"If I made that an excuse, I'd never write!"

It's true. While writing the above lines, I have been interrupted four times, I am a half-hour overdue to feed my baby, my hair is wet from my shower and needing to be blow-dried. Supper needs to be started, and I just remembered today I promised to help out on my writer's group site with articles, AND I need to make cookies for Bible school next week. And Noah and Talia can't do their summer reading chart on their own. Oh, and groceries. We're out of milk!

It's crazy. My personality generally means I am someone who can be depended on to get things done - and fast! But this crazy life of mine sometimes gets the best of me. I will admit if I didn't write or read, I'd have a hard time picking up the same shoes ten times a day. The sometimes tedious life of a mom of four is definitely a blessing - but there's no question about it's difficulty.

As you can probably guess - I wouldn't trade it for the world.

And I just got interrupted again.

And I think Talia is pouring water all over the bathroom floor.

Ah, this crazy life of mine! Thank you Lord for making my most precious dreams come true.

Say Amen

2010-06-02T15:55:00.001-04:00

"Say Amen, Tal!" I say as we finish the prayer for the food at lunch. My two year old lifts her big blue eyes to mine and stubbornly yells "No!"

"No nummies till you say Amen." I sigh. It's become a daily struggle. Every meal. She'll say "Thank you Jesus" and "Amen" all day long, but if she's sitting at the table and it's time to eat, she simply refuses to comply.

I thought my first two children were strong-willed. I didn't yet know the meaning of the term. When Talia joined our family and became my daughter, it didn't take long to figure out that Talia wants Talia's way and will fight to the end to get it.

I'm not very strong willed. I'm a firstborn who likes to take care of people and seeks peace and harmony. If someone asks me to do something, and I can't find any reason to believe it's wrong to do it, I'll do just about anything. I can't understand why a barely two-year-old girl would put her meal on great hold just because she doesn't want to obey.

And it bothers me as her mom to withhold her food until she is finally broken down enough to mumble something through her tears that sounds remotely like "Amen." I want her to have her nourishment. I want her to grow into a strong, healthy young woman.

But I want her to love God more.

And so I fight, knowing that this struggle now while she is so young and tender will give her an easier life, and a better relationship not only with the people around her but most importantly with her Savior.

It makes me see Jesus so much more clearly. He doesn't want us to suffer. He hates it when we cry, when we struggle, when we lose. He created us to be eternally happy and carefree. But he knows that a little struggle now is what causes us to trust. To be put to the test where we are forced to stand up and choose whether we will follow God or follow ourself is His gift to us - the gift of choice.

I can choose to love Him, to serve Him, and to trust Him no matter what. And in return - I receive the benefit of joy and peace, no matter what. Or I'm free to refuse.

But that means no lunch. And who wouldn't want to eat a feast when it's set before you?

God has set before you life everlasting and happy or eternity without Him. All you have to do is be humble enough to admit you need Him. You need what He sacrificed for you on the cross. You need the power that raised Him from the dead. You believe His Word and you want to belong to Him.

You'll never regret "saying Amen" to your Creator.

You will most certainly regret the alternative.

"This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the LORD your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the LORD is your life." - Deuteronomy 30:19-20

A Better Plan and a New Life Beginning

2010-04-20T15:56:00.008-04:00

I return to my horribly neglected blog to announce the arrival of a pretty special little person. My fourth child, John Michael, arrived safe and sound at 7:43 pm on April 11th, 2010. He weighed 10 pounds, 3 ounces, and was 22 inches long.

That's the short story. Now for the long version!

I have four children. I have two boys, two girls, all spaced a couple years apart. I asked God for just this scenario before I even knew if I would be able to conceive one of them. I asked for them in the exact order they arrived, I knew all their names before they were even created, and each one of them is exactly who I hoped they would be. This little one, John, is named for my grandfather who passed away 2 years ago - a great man who loved God and was a shining example to his family. My mom had always hoped for a son or a grandson named John after her father. When I found out that I was expecting this baby, I read from Psalm 103 the same day. "The Lord is gracious and compassionate." At that moment I knew that this would be my mom's baby John, as "John" means "The Lord is gracious." I didn't tell her. I didn't tell anyone save my husband, who admired my grandfather and completely agreed with the choice. I also came to realize soon after that this baby was due exactly two weeks after Grandpa's birthday. At that moment I began to pray almost daily that God would allow this baby to be born on the same day. Guess what? My compassionate Lord brought John Michael into this world on April 11, 2010, exactly 89 years after he brought John Herman Hubble into the world.

So I know it seems odd to title this post "A Better Plan." God did answer some pretty specific prayers. I am thankful to Him for all that He gave me, for all the hopes and dreams He answered so lovingly. I can see the smile on His face as I presented little John to his grandmother just over a week ago. I think God thought that was pretty special too.

I had a few other requests too. I wanted a natural, hitch free labor and delivery. I definitely wanted nothing to do with surgery, which was one of my greatest fears. I wanted an average sized baby and an uneventful pregnancy.

At 32 weeks I went into the hospital with high blood pressure. The next 6 weeks were a rough walk through a valley of bedrest, hospital stays, tests and scary predictions of this baby's size. By 38 weeks I was ready for my prayer to be answered and my baby boy to be born healthy in the appropriate way. Oh, I expected hiccups. My other labors were long and hard. My body never seems to work the right way, my babies never seem to be in the right position. This time was no different. I had wonderful nurses who did their best to help me help the baby into the right position, but John's rather large head was cock-eyed and not in a great position for birth. When the time came, I pushed and pushed with all my might, but the epidural I had cut out on the right side of my body and the pain and intensity of pushing quickly began to overwhelm me. At that time the baby started to show signs of distress, and you could feel it in the room. Everyone knew that my chance to deliver my baby myself was over.

"It's time." the doctor decided, and as much as I didn't want to hear it, I heard my gracious and compassionate Savior speaking through him. "It's time, my child. Time to let go of your plan and accept mine. Time to let me prove that even if your worst fears come to life, I will still be with you. I will still be God, and you will still be loved."

So with tears pouring down my face and with a terror I've never felt before, I was wheeled to the operating room. As the flurry of activity around me went on, I looked for my husband, but he wasn't there. The only face leaning over me was a stranger's. I didn't even see my nurse. I was alone.

But I wasn't. Someone was there. I could feel Him more acutely than I could even feel my husband, who eventually took the seat next to me and gripped my hand, obviously as scared as I was. I asked him afterward if someone had been holding my feet during the operation, and he couldn't recall anyone being there. But I remember more clearly than anything else that happened in that room, even though I was numb from the waist down - someone was holding my feet, and that feeling comforted me more than anything else. As I focused on it, I stopped crying, I started praying, and I waited for my baby to be freed from my body.

He wasn't freed without a cost. I have a painful incision wound across my abdomen that I will carry for the rest of my life as a scar. I have internal wounds that will not allow me to ever have another child any way other than another surgery.

But God got John here. And in the process He was able to use the scariest event of my life to show me that He will ALWAYS be there, and I can do ALL things through Him who is my strength.

So take it from me, if your worst dreams suddenly come to life, if you can't figure out why in the world a God who is supposed to love you would let you suffer in the way you are hurting... remember to look around with spirit eyes, because I promise you He's there in the room... perhaps holding your feet with a grip of love.

"Do you wonder why you have to feel the things that hurt you if there's a God who loves you? Where is He now? Well maybe there are things you can't see and all those things are happening to bring a better ending someday somehow you'll see... you'll see... Would you dare, would you dare to believe that you still have a reason to sing because the pain that you've been feeling can't compare to the joy that's coming. Come on you got to wait for the light, press on and just fight the good fight, because the pain that you've been feeling is just the hurt before the healing... the pain that you've been feeling is just the dark before the morning." - Josh Wilson

Heaven Song

2010-01-28T01:22:00.002-05:00

A Goodbye

2010-01-27T00:21:00.002-05:00

Nellie Mae Doughty was born on July 25, 1925. I didn’t get to meet her until fifty-one years later, as Nellie Mae Hubble. But I got to hear about the adventures she had in the meantime. She grew up in Missouri with a bunch of brothers and sisters, which is why we always teased her about her “hillbilly” ways. She was pretty young when she fell in love with a soldier headed off to WWII. She told me that she didn’t know if he felt the same way until he kissed her goodbye instead of her cousin. He alone out of his group came back, and decided he would like to marry this beautiful girl.

Despite her obvious admiration, she didn’t make wooing an easy task for Grandpa. He had to ask quite a few times before she finally agreed to marry him. She planned her perfect church wedding, but a blood test result didn’t come back in time for Grandpa. So did they postpone the happy event? No, they crossed line into Arkansas where a blood test was not required and got married by a justice of the peace.

She had two daughters, though she always said she would have liked to have a big family. Little did she know at the time that God was planning on giving her nine grandchildren and 24 great-grandchildren before her time here was done.

It’s hard to know where to begin to speak about what my grandma meant to me. She wasn’t your typical grandma, but then she wasn’t your typical anything! Even if she weren’t the second most important woman in the world to me, it would have been hard not to love her.

I can categorize some of the wealth of memories within by using the five senses. Smells will forever be an instant reminder of my grandma. I remember sneaking into her room after she had finished putting on her makeup and doing her hair. The smell of aqua net hair spray, the fresh scent of her powder, and the light musky perfume that lingered in the air all serve as reminders of her to this day.

There are tastes that I’m sure she wasn’t planning on us remembering her by, but nevertheless we always will. Dr. Pepper, Kentucky Fried Chicken, her Thanksgiving dressing, ice cream sandwiches, just to name a few.

Seeing the pictures she took over the years, though she was always trying to stay out of them herself, reminds me of her. Always armed with her Polaroid camera, forever trying to capture moments and make them hers forever.

Hearing the stories she told while we sat at the kitchen table late into the night, sometimes a few of us, sometimes just the two of us. I got to hear all the stories that everyone else heard too, such as the cigar eating, the lost baby alligator, and the “Shower” incident, as well as a few that I never expected, and promised not to repeat. Grandma wasn’t one to hide her regrets or failures. She probably figured we could learn from them. And I for one, did.

I will always remember the touch of Grandma’s hands. They weren’t always gentle, such as when she would hold you down and tickle you or pinch you so hard she left a bruise. Her hands were rather frail for the last few years. But she had a way of communicating with her grip the love she felt for you, the will she had to hold you there forever so you wouldn’t go running back off into life, but stay with her instead. I always wished I could. It was hard to leave. Her touch may be the only thing some of her great-grandchildren will ever remember of her. Even in her last days, she was always on the floor crawling around with babies, carrying around toddlers that were too heavy for her, snuggling newborns even as she desperately tried to remember their names and which grandchild they belonged to.

Even as I try to draw this to a close, memories come rushing through my mind. How I could never win a game of Scrabble against her as hard as I tried, and how easy she made it look. How she’d bicker and carry on with Grandpa just to get a laugh out of us. I remember she’d lose Jenny and me in the store and hide in the clothes racks so we couldn’t find her. She had a funny way of acting like a ditz even though we both knew that she was smarter than I’d ever be.

Thank you, Grandma, for the legacy of faith. For the example of determination and spirit, and a life finished well. Thank you for being one of the best friends I’ve ever had. For loving me through the toughest times in life. For believing in me, delighting in me, and always telling me the truth.

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more than these inadequate words can express.

Goodbye…. For now.

Fun Recipe Resource

2010-01-23T11:06:00.002-05:00

Today's Pick of the Day - http://homeandfamily-miranda.blogspot.com/

The Solution to Winter Dry Hands

2010-01-22T00:38:00.001-05:00

Day 3 of my top picks for home and family - the solution to dry skin issues. http://homeandfamily-miranda.blogspot.com/

New Post in Home and Family

2010-01-21T13:05:00.001-05:00

Click on the link for my pick of the day! http://homeandfamily-miranda.blogspot.com/

Taking Blogging to New Places

2010-01-20T18:01:00.000-05:00

One of my goals for 2010 is to expand my blog. I've added an area dedicated to writing, which will mark my personal journey to authorhood as well as share authors, books and writing resources that have been helpful to me. You will find the link to this area at the top left.

Another area that has been added is Home and Family. This area will be reserved for ideas, resources and links to things that have become invaluable to me as homemaker, wife and mom. I've found I've gathered quite a bit of information in my ten years pursuing this goal, and it is time it was shared.

The main area will remain my focus for my wandering thoughts, mostly devotional in nature. As I learn more about the resources available to blogs, I will continue to improve this site and transform it into something that is useful to others and not just a personal journal. My goal as a writer is to meet the needs of others, not only to satisfy my personal need to muse in the form of words.

So I welcome feedback in the form of comments or emails. If you have any ideas for me, let me know!

Watch and Pray

2010-01-01T17:51:00.000-05:00

2010. It's not just a new year. It's a new decade. Full of possibilities and inevitable change. There are some dire predictions for the next decade, and whether or not they will hold any credence remains to be seen.

Have you noticed how change makes us uneasy? I'm not sure why that is, but I suppose it is at least partly because change is a human trait, not divine. God doesn't change. But the comforting fact is that He allows change and decrees change in order to bring us closer to the image of Jesus.

As I went to bed last night, I asked God to tell me what business I should be about in this new coming year. I turned to my place in the gospel of Matthew, and commenced my reading about the experiences in the Garden of Gethsemane that fateful night. I realized how much I - and the church as a whole - resemble the sleeping disciples. Would they have been sleeping if they really had any idea what would unfold in the next few hours? Would we be so complacent and content if we had any idea what the next few years held in store?

The words of advice were clear. "Watch and pray, so you don't fall into temptation" -red letters seeming to emphasize the importance of the command.

There's no getting around it. I'm pretty content where I am. I'm not easily moved at the idea of changing my life, even for the glory of God. But what if there's more to why He has me here than grocery shopping and exercising on my eliptical, making lesson plans for homeschool and singing in the church choir? What if His glory requires that I let go of the lifestyle I'm so comfortable in? Even if it doesn't at this point in time, something tells me that "watching and praying" doesn't happen without being willing to do so.

So my goal for 2010 is to learn how to watch and pray. Bigger things are coming than we are capable of imagining. The closer we come to the culmination of this world's eventual demise, the more important it will be that we be paying attention. Watching. Praying. Willing to give up our desires for His plans for us. More mature in our thinking and focused on why we are here than how we can make ourselves more happy.

No more sleeping disciples while Jesus pleads for watchful prayer. The Holy Spirit will help us in our weakness if we will let Him.

Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me."

Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will."

Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. "Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?" he asked Peter. "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak."

He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."

When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. 44So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.

Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!"

The Most Extravagant Gift

2009-12-22T15:07:00.000-05:00

Extravagance.

That's what it was, purely and simply. My gifts for my family this year were the ultimate display of my affection for them. I could hardly wait to pack them into my car and head out of the city on this snowy Christmas morning. This day was going to be great. I could almost see the look of shock on my dad's face when he opened his new blackberry or my mom's protests of the expense. when she took out that candy apple red mixer. My younger brother would love his new Wii, and my neices and nephews would bounce the walls when they opened...

What was that sound? My apartment was usually dead quiet in the morning. I had paid enough for it that it better be. Sniffing?

I chalked it up to my imagination and returned my thoughts to the day to come. I guessed the fun wouldn't start until I got my lazy self out of bed. Coffee. I needed coffee.

You need more than that. A familiar, yet unwelcome voice spoken within my head. You've got the designer clothes, the apartment to envy, the dream job, the convertible. You've got friends in high places and friends in higher places. You've got all the connections and beauty and prestige a person could dream of, and still you haven't managed to figure out a way to peace. You haven't figured out how to make my voice go away. I'm always going to be here, reminding you of all the horrible things you've ever done, about the eventual payback that is most certainly coming your way...

"Enough!" I jumped from beneath the covers and quickly went to shower and dress. When I came out of the bathroom, I heard it again.

Sniff. Sniff.

Now more than a little convinced that someone had broken into my apartment - someone with a cold, apparently, I pulled on my clothes and ran down the spiral staircase into my spacious great room flooded with light from the oversized windows. The Christmas tree that I had trimmed to perfection graced the room with a commanding presence, and all the presents I had left beneath it were still there. Everything seemed in order. I turned toward the kitchen, then heard the sound again.

I walked into the room, and immediately noticed the small present that lay beneath the tree, the top removed. I knew I hadn't put it there. The wrapping paper was brown and plain. I peeked inside but it was empty. Empty and dirty, I noted with distaste. Who had given me such an ugly gift?

It was then that I noticed I was not alone. I jumped back in shock as I saw her - just a teenaged girl, her clothes worn and her hair in need of a good brushing. She was crying pitifully.

"How did you get in here?" I demanded. As I spoke, she whirled around to look at me with wide, scared eyes. She quickly knelt and placed something into the box, covering it with the lid and bravely wiping away the tears that streamed down her face.

"What is that?" I motioned toward the shabby box. She looked hard at it, as if she wished she could grab it and run.

"I was told to give it to you." she said softly, her voice breaking with emotion. "He said I should give it to you."

With that, she was gone, wrapping her arms around herself in a forlorn gesture as she hurried out the door.

I stared back at the box. It moved slightly. I reached over and unwillingly pulled the top away to see inside.

I could never had been prepared for what lay beneath the packaging. He squirmed beneath his crude swaddling, releasing a soft baby sigh as he settled back to sleep.

"What in the world?" I said, my heart thumping as I stared at him. I had never spent much time around newborns, but the absolute softness of his hair and skin, the defenselessness, the sweet smell that hovered around him was enough to make me pick him up. There was a card laying on his tiny chest.

"For my beloved, I give you my only son. He is what you are missing. He is your answer.He will give his life to redeem yours."

I stared hard at the tiny one. Only son? The answer? Give his life?

I felt tears wash over me with the realization. In this tiny, nondescript package, hidden among my fancily wrapped, costly gifts, rested the most extravagant gift of all.

Given to me.

Could I accept it? Could I accept him, poor and unlikely soul that he was?

Could I love him?

Why Christmas Matters

2009-12-05T11:08:00.000-05:00

Christmas – the most uncontaminated form of wholesomeness that mankind is capable of… in the purest form of divinity that Almighty God simply is.

There are always those that downplay Christmas, that say the birth of Jesus is not as important as His death and resurrection, but how can one be separated from the other? His birth was heralded by celestial beings, honored by kings, and predicted by prophets for centuries. Of course the ultimate goal was the act of paying for the sins of mankind, but the miracle that sprung from a quiet night in an animal stable set in motion the amazing God-conspired plan that was intended from the moment of creation.

This Christmas, may we pause in our business, in our shopping, in our visiting. As we watch our loved ones open presents and see their faces shine, may we remember the ultimately extravagant gift we were presented with on that silent, holy night. Who are we that we should be worth the life of His Son? But yet it remains that the baby's cry that shattered the silence in a Bethlehem stable that night is the voice of an immense and incredible Savior who was, is, and is to come. And yet who loves the lowest, the vilest, the most broken among us. Who came for them. Who died for them.

Who lives... for you.

All the Ways He Says He Loves Me

2009-10-14T23:40:00.000-04:00

I know It's been a long time since I've blogged. A very long time. There's a wonderful reason for that fact.

But let me start at the beginning of my story. I ask you to refer back to June, when I had written about the scary surgery and possibility of my (then) three year old son having lymphoma, and the wonderful answer to prayer when it was revealed that he simply had some excessively overactive lymph nodes and was pronounced healthy.

Since that traumatic experience, I have entered into a deeper level of relationship with my Savior. I didn't notice it at first, but as the days and weeks passed, I started to notice a trend whenever something tempted me to worry over my children or anything else. When some trial thought to get the best of my emotions or will. God was speaking. Not a booming voice from the heavens shouting "thees" and "thous," but a loving, tender voice whispering from the pages of my Bible. I suppose the voice has always spoken to me. But it takes the scary moments of life when you are desperate to hear it to help you learn to recognize it.

God directed me to the Psalms at the beginning of the summer and has wisely kept me there until I finished it two days ago. From Psalm 56 the Lord gave me precious truth for my little boy to memorize and repeat as he headed into surgery: "When I am afraid I will trust in You, in God whose Word I praise. In God I trust; I will not be afraid." Little did he know his mommy was silently repeating it with tears streaming down her face as he was wheeled away.

The day before I received the greatest relief of my life - the results of Noah's biopsy, God said from Psalm 41: The Lord will sustain him on his sickbed, and restore him from his bed of illness." I knew then. I knew that everything was going to be alright. I felt as if I'd crossed a mountain, but I knew that the journey was drawing to a conclusion.

But God wasn't finished with us yet. He continued to speak words of love and hope to my heart through the Psalms throughout the next month. And quite unexpectedly, a familiar thought occured to me. It's occured to me three other times in my life. God was letting me know that he was giving us a blessing. I think of it almost as a "reward" for allowing him to show his faithfulness to us by entrusting him with the life of our son. God was planning to send us another child.

Well, I promptly told my husband the good news. He was less than convinced. But neither of us were in any sort of hurry to work it out - getting pregnant is something that's required a lot of time and prayer to accomplish for me.

God didn't wait this time.

On the morning of August 20, I woke early, planning to take a test because of the suspicious symptoms and telltale feeling I was having. I read Psalms 103:

Praise the Lord Oh my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits - who forgives all your sins, and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.... The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love... he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him."

I didn't really need to take the test to know that it would be positive.

All this to say, that every time I look into the healthy, vibrant blue eyes of my four year old son, and next spring when I lay eyes on this little miracle God is forming within me, I will remember the summer that God drew close to me, and showed me his nature, and let me feel his love.

Some use scientific research, some use theological apologetics to herald the existence of the Creator God. I don't need it. I know he's not only real, but exactly who he says he is. You can know too, for absolute certainty. Step out on faith. Trust him regardless of what the circumstance or your feelings tell you. Persevere, and he will begin to reveal himself to you. He will remind you of a sacrifice on a cross, an empty grave, your sins atoned for, and then point to every time in your life that he reached his larger-than-the-universe hands toward you, and whispered so gently in your ear....

I love you. You are mine. I will always take care of you.

Being Still and Knowing - A Journey

2009-08-05T23:58:00.000-04:00

Sometimes when my babies are fast asleep I sneak into their rooms and watch them. See their chests rise and fall in steady syncopation. Their hand thrown unknowingly upon the pillow, their hair damp and sticking to their flushed little face. It gives me peace. Not just to know that at the moment I am not required to break up fights, motivate obedience, quell whining or dole out punishments but I am free to soak in all the wonder of who that little person God created really has the potential to be.

Lately I've been thinking about this world in which we are living right now in this country of prosperity and ridiculous wealth, recession or not. We have or can easily obtain everything we could possibly need and most of our reasonable desires as well. But sometimes I wonder what the trade has become. Our way of life requires our constant attention. Jobs to which we must drive to every day, where we give our strength and our creative energy into a company that may only be lingering on the precipice of ruin. We work harder to gain a glimmer of assurance that we might still have that job in the morning. Children are handed over to specialized care in order that they might be prepared for life, and at the same time are robbed of any extended period of time where they might simply play on their own and be a child. They are robbed of precious time with the only people on the planet that can show them how to relate to and learn to live in this life.

We have the relief of knowing there are doctors to care for us any time of day or night; within minutes in case of emergency they can be at our side. But to this blessing is added the stress of medical bills to pay, research and second opinions to find, decisions to be made about life and death that I'm not sure we were created to know how to make.

We have strong, beautiful homes to live in, that even if built to the least standard of requirement are safe enough to shelter us for years and years to come. But with this goodness we find that we are constantly required to maintain and give attention to the most minute of details in order to cause the building to continue to meet that standard. As soon as the paint dries there is a scuff. As soon as the filter is changed it is full. As soon as the dishwasher is installed it starts to deteriorate. The grass never ceases to grow, the landscaping never takes a break from over growing and taking over the yard.

And then after the endless, mindless bills are sent off and the calls are returned and the list of businesses asking for our money are silenced and the pets are cared for and the medicines are taken and the bottomless pile of laundry is somehow clean and dishes are not only washed but put away... when no one is in need of a meal for at least a few hours and toys have been picked up and correspondence has been cared for and somehow we have even found a moment to sweep the cobwebs from the ceiling and wash the windows and have the carpets cleaned... then there are the truly important things that are still left undone.

There are children to teach the way of the Lord. They must have life experiences, they must be taught about their world as it relates to their God. They must have time to spend with their parents playing in the backyard or riding bikes or sharing a game. They must have their talents developed with lessons or play sports on a team. They must know their relatives, they must have friends to spend time with. A husband and wife need to have time to spend with each other lest they become strangers living side by side. And then there is our church family, whom we need to be connected with as much as they need to be connected to us. We must learn to be a part of the body of Christ. We must learn to love others. And we must learn to love our neighbors and coworkers and take the time to know them and pray for them and tell them about the love Jesus has for them.

When all of this is done, there is still the most important part of our lives that has gone uncared for. Our own relationship with our Savior. We must be in His presence, hear His voice through His Word and bring our crazy, busy life before Him to ask Him for strength and wisdom.

Is it any wonder that He said we should "be still, and know He is God?"

This list of responsibilities is in no way exhaustive. All of us could add another blog entry full of things we are responsible to care for. How do we do it? How do we live in this culture and not drown in our concerns?

God gave us just the right amount of hours in the day, days in the week, weeks in the month, and months in the year. He didn't make a mistake. So if we are unable to accomplish everything in the time He has given us, we are the ones that are doing something wrong.

Do I know what it is? No. For me, a method of coping is not fighting the onslaught of commitments. It is in escaping to my imagination by writing or reading of other times and other places, of ideas. It is in letting go the things I didn't get done today that will truthfully not matter in a week or a month or a year. It is in being vigilant about the things that will still be important on my deathbed.

It is somehow fighting the storm of life, pushing against the wind, declaring to everyone vying for my attention, and reciting from the depths of my heart: As the deer pants for streams of water so my soul pants for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?

It is in being still and knowing... Him.

No Going Back - The War of Ideas

2009-07-21T15:30:00.000-04:00

I have blood on my hands. There's no going back now. - Saul of Tarsus (from the movie "Paul the Apostle")

There have been many of them since the day Jesus poured his Spirit on the early church, soon after His return to the Father. All of them, in some way or another, that have had to fight the war of ideas here on this battlefield called Earth.

Though history has always been interesting to me, it has become more of a passion to me in recent years. I consume great quantities of historical literature and media. The history during the past 2000+ years has become a particular obsession. The history of the church.

I'm watching an excellent movie right now while I work away on my elliptical machine in the afternoons during naptime. It's called "Paul the Apostle," and I'm delighted because it's acting and sets, while they aren't going to win any oscars, are enough that they don't distract from the message. And oh, what a message! The sweet words of the New Testament as the story of Saul who killed Christians and Paul who made them. Blanks filled in seamlessly.

Thoughts have been forming in my mind that I must write down before they waft away on the breeze that is the life of a wife and mother of young ones. Many things have occurred since Paul preached Christ across the reaches of the known world. Times have come and gone, many kings, leaders, churches and teachers have lived and died. And yet, it was obvious to me as I watched the story of Paul unfold: Nothing has changed. The war of ideas continues, and it is always the same string of ideas that ignite the passions of sinners and saints alike.

In the time of Paul, the problems were fairly straightforward. Christians had seen Christ die, seen Him rise again and could do nothing but believe that He was the Son of God. This inflamed the keepers of the law, both religious and governments, because it could not coexist with their ideas. A high priest in the temple could not continue to preach that God expected their sacrifices and could no longer do his appointed job to pardon sins and be the mediator between God and man if the Messiah had come and rendered his position obsolete. So what was his only choice if he rejected the idea of following the Messiah? To try to push down the new idea, even if it was true. If the government sensed a power that could defeat their reigning power, unless they were willing to be destroyed, they would stamp out the "rebellion" where it began.

And so the religious leaders and the Roman government became unlikely partners in the attempt to wipe out the sect of people who were called Christians. Like children who respond in frustration to push down other children who say things they don't like or agree with, those leaders pushed and shoved and fumed and stomped. And when they thought they had cut down the resistance, they looked around and saw the numbers had doubled. Tripled. Quadrupled. Not one fighting back, accept in their God-given ability to reproduce.

This continued outside Jewish city walls and in Roman arenas. Three hundred years later, with a wake of destruction behind them, the powers that be suddenly stopped resisting. Constantine, the Roman Emperor, became a Christian.

You might think this should be the end of the story. But you know it isn't. Constantine may have had a genuine heart of faith, but he misunderstood one thing: You can't make people believe in Jesus. God has never forced one soul to accept His Son and find forgiveness and eternal life. God would never ask His people to badger anyone into Christianity either. But Constantine thought it would be a good idea to use his vast power to force people into the Kingdom. And as a result, a very disjointed path of the church was born. Not healthy from it's beginning, because God's simple Word had not been respected in its inception. But when something is spiritually unhealthy it can become an extremely powerful tool of evil.

And before you knew it, this church had become "white-washed walls" on the outside, and darkness within. When Martin Luther stepped forward and complained, saying that what was happening was against God, the ones that were supposed to bear God's Word and reach the lost with love for Christ, got angry. THEIR words had become their Bible. THEIR traditions were too important to correct, even if they were unbiblical in every respect.

And so the bloodthirst began. And once one martyr had been placed on the stake and burned to their death, there was no going back. There was no admitting that error had occurred. It was a pact sealed with blood. And so the body count rose, higher and higher, as the faithful few were silenced and the masses were warned to conform or die. Some chose to conform. Some chose to die. But no matter how hard the powers fought to contain the resistance, it grew. And grew. And grew.

You may say "But that isn't happening now." Not here, in America. Not yet. But there are powers in this world who would silence Christianity forever. There are forces in places in many parts of the world that are dragging Christians from their homes and slaying them in the street, even mothers and fathers, while their children watch in horror. Pastors that are imprisoned, beaten. Churches and homes routinely set on fire. For the offense of believing and teaching that Jesus is our Savior, that people can have eternal life in His name, and forgiveness of sins.

The war of ideas is occurring - so far in a bloodless battle - within God's church as well. I grew up in a setting where I was taught to respect the boundaries of denominations, and be grateful that we could separate ourselves into different parts of God's church and coexist without destroying each other. But the older I am, the more I doubt that our segregation pleases our Savior. I keep hearing His prayer in the garden, for US, when He pleaded with God to help us to be one as They are one. There are many today who are throwing off the weight of denominational distinctions, and painstakingly removing traditions and ideas that are unbiblical in nature. There are those who are angered by this. Those who condemn and denounce the ones who thoughtfully step out in faith and follow the Spirit. The ideas of men, the traditions of our ancestors mean more to them than the spirit of unity that Christ would have us all know.

This should not be. History and current events have already shown us that once ideas become more important than Scripture, the bloodshed soon follows. None of us are immune from the effects of sin once we decide something is important enough to kill in the name of. Once one child of God is pushed down in the name of ideas, it is easier to push down another.

So it is with this concern that I remained always more and more skeptical of the good of any denomination created by man's ideas. Of calling one's self anything but a child of God through Christ. I used to be comfortable referring to myself as a Baptist. I am not anymore.

Does this mean I believe that we should all leave our Baptist churches and our Pentecostal churches and Presbyterian, our reformed traditions or any other type of body in the people that are part of the Body of Christ? NO. That is a strong and emphatic "absolutely not." As destructive as denominations can become, there is an equally devastating problem in God's people at this point in history. Apathy. More simply said: LAZINESS. When we don't agree with someone, instead of turning to the Word and resolving our differences, we leave. When we get angry at other people for not doing their jobs or not volunteering for ministries or speaking against something we think is a good idea, we don't try to pray and work it out in Jesus powerful name, we just leave. And we miss the blessing of learning to become one in Him. We cripple the Body of Christ that Jesus loved enough to die for.

Ideally, we should all do a spring cleaning of our heart and wash off anything that doesn't belong by God's Word. But since we are still sinners and this isn't likely to happen, we should stay where God has us, as long as the Gospel is being preached and the Word upheld as the only source of life and truth and we should learn to get along. Learn to love. Learn step by step, day by day, difficulty by difficulty, argument by argument, how to look another follower of Christ in the eye and say "I love you, and I am your brother and sister, no matter how our many worthless thoughts may differ."

Not an easy task. But if we are to heal from the many wounds that have been inflicted in the past and the many fiery arrows the evil forces are sending our way at this very moment, we must work together. We must focus our energies on our unity. It is essential.

So to my little section of the Body, I plead: Let us love one another. Let us get along. Let us respect each other and defer to each other. Let's not fight about things that don't matter.

Until He comes back. I'm for you, you be for me. We'll get to the finish line together. After all, we aren't racing against each other. There's no easy way to get to that line where He stands with open arms unless we help one another.

May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. John 17:23

DISCLAIMER: After I wrote this blog I continued to watch "Paul the Apostle" and discovered some objectionable material. It is a secular miniseries and does contain some elements that are definitely not for children, and some that aren't for adults either. There is brief nudity and violence. The questionable aspects have nothing to do with the message, which was still excellent.

The Heritage

2009-07-09T00:18:00.001-04:00

So this is my Great-Great Grandma Gilbert, pictured with her husband, Joseph McGregor.

I know, she's not much to look at. This sturdy pioneer woman helped raise my grandfather after his father was killed in an accident saving his children's lives. She died from an accidental self-induced carbolic acid poisoning. And she is descended from kings all the way back to the tenth century.

As you can tell, I've been doing some genealogy research. My Dad started it on ancestry.com, and I've been researching some of the fascinating characters that grace the pages of my family tree.

Some of my relations include Emily Dickinson, the nineteenth century poet, who is a great aunt of sorts on both sides of my paternal grandparents. I suppose that isn't too surprising, considering the level of interest in writing in my family. Maybe it's my all-too-overactive imagination, but I can see my sister Kathy's face in her portrait, and I can hear my Grandma's provoking rhyme in her wandering, thoughtful poetry.

Others, such as the Cables of Cade's Cove, and Christopher Martin, whose name appears with 40 others on the Mayflower Compact, have left their mark on history. My Scottish ancestors heralded from the McGregor, McDonald and Robertson clans during the middle ages, and I have many many ancestors from the Netherlands back into the 1500's.

It's been Grandma Georgianna Gilbert's pedigree that has been the most surprising and interesting. Through the Gilbert family, I found myself back in fourteenth century England, during the reign of King Henry VIII, visiting castles and palaces, rubbing arms with royalty, walking the halls of Cambridge and Oxford with my British ancestors. I found that the Holland family, some of my relatives during this time period, are quite possibly descended to the Plantagenet line of English kings, and I was able to trace those through historical records through Norman and Viking kings all the way back to a "Fulk, King of Jerusalem" in the tenth century. I am not so proud of his crusading exploits, or his title "Fulk, the Rude," but I am fascinated that this body that sits here this night in 2009 has a connection to such a past. The distant, unreachable, unfathomable past so many grandmothers and grandfathers ago... and yet there is a link.

Also through the Gilberts I found some more commendable fathers. A brother to my own great-times-a-few grandfather was Sir Henry Adams, who left a legacy of service and charity and also a "stone" of some sort that killed him and is now kept at a laboratory somewhere inside Cambridge University. His effigy is pictured here.

My extremely distant relative through the Benedict family of Nottinghamshire and Norfolk, was Benedict, brother of King Canute IV of Denmark in the mid-eleventh century. He apparently gave his life along with his brother as a martyr, and so his family named lived on through the centuries.

I realize that many people are descended from interesting historical figures. The further back history takes us on the path of our relatives, the more related we all become. But I am completely intrigued by history to the point of obsession, and to have some sort of link with the dark pages of the past - to me - is not unlike uncovering a treasure that has been buried away for years.

There's a place that the Spirit always seems to redirect me when I am lost in the ocean of people and places from history. Though these people handed down their DNA in some form to combine with others and eventually form the person I am, it is the spiritual link that is more sure, more tangible, and more unbending and unquestionable than even my own family tree. Jesus came. Jesus did an amazing thing at Calvary and then burst from a sealed tomb to change the world. His Spirit left turned the hearts of fearful, fleeing disciples into strong hearted apostles that set their faces toward the far corners of the world and went with a joyful message of love and peace. Their legacy, though tried by crosses, by fire, by beheadings, by tortures, by ridicule and false doctrine and every sort of attempt by darkness to uproot it and leave it lost in the hidden corners of history's documentations... their legacy only grew stronger. The fires of trial and persecution only refined that strength into a deeper and more unrelenting passion that lives on today. And that fire lives on in me.

The fire that joined my heart to Christ's 26 years ago is my true lineage, my most amazing connection to history. And I have no shame to be called a child of God, though I can find reasons to be ashamed of my ancestors. So I will not boast in kings and princes that ruled earthly realms, but instead I will boast in my Savior Jesus Christ.

And you can too. Acceptance into this amazing heritage of a family is guaranteed and irrevocable.

All you have to do is ask.

Noah's Rainbow

2009-06-26T12:52:00.001-04:00

This morning a very dear lady who suffers from some serious diseases arose early and couldn't go back to sleep. So she got up, went to her chair to pray, and ended up praying for Noah's results to be okay today.

A few minutes later she felt prompted by the Spirit to go look out the window. Not the window she usually looks out. The other window. When she pulled back the curtains, a huge rainbow graced the sky. No rain. Just a beautiful, clear rainbow.

Noah's rainbow.

She knew to expect the call she got a few minutes later from my mom. She knew that Noah would be okay.

And he is! Praise the Lord, God has spared our son from cancer, and he is a healthy little boy with some overactive lymph nodes! The peace that God has provided the whole way through this trial has been in part from all the wonderful people who have prayed for us with compassion and love. We are so thankful for the grace of the Lord in giving us so many people who love our son. We are most thankful for the dear Lord who loves him more than we do. We know he will always be safe in our Father's hands.

And last night at dinner Noah prayed for the special lady that has been praying for him. We will never forget how important prayer is, and how much we need to pray for those who are suffering. Prayer changes things. I am now more convinced of this than ever.

And we will never forget about Noah's rainbow. This one, nor the one that the original Noah saw as he stepped out of the ark onto waterlogged, but dry ground. Noah will hear both stories, and he will learn to trust the Lord, and to trust His faithful promises.

The Lord is not slow in keeping his promises. 2 Peter 3:9

Chaos... Yet Peace

2009-06-23T21:26:00.000-04:00

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. - Philippians 4:7

I am at a place I never expected to be. It's one of those things that you worry constantly as a mother will happen, but you never truly anticipate your worst fears becoming a reality.

For anyone who is a mother, you can appreciate my fears for my children. It seems especially during these years of pregnancy and hormonal ups and downs that it's so easy to be anxious over every sniffle and fever.

The ironic thing is now that I am facing a very real unknown, though I am definitely worried and anxious for the results that we will get Friday, I am experiencing a completely ridiculous, even inappropriate peace. Those are strange words to use, I know, but it is the only way I can think to describe my emotional state right now.

For those who don't know what I'm talking about, my three-year-old son had surgery yesterday to remove three huge lymph nodes that are at this moment being biopsied to check for lymphoma. This alone, I know, is not a huge cause for concern, since the statistics are excellent (almost 90%) for them to come back benign. Yet when the doctor removed them, he told us with concern that they were "suspicious." I suppose that moves us down in the percentage a few categories.

It's a mystery to me how I can get myself so worked up into the "what ifs" and "please, Lord, no" of this life when nothing is wrong, and then when God does allow a stressful week of waiting to know whether we are about to embark on a scary road of childhood cancer or if we will be set free from this trial... well, there's just so much peace.

Don't get me wrong. I feel a great weight almost crushing my chest, stealing my breath. It's kind of like running a marathon - pushing past that pain to persevere and finish this race. It's burning, it hurts, it's the furthest thing from comfortable. But I'm okay with being here.

What? Okay with the possibility of your son having cancer? Of course, the answer is a resounding NO! The thought of it is the scariest thing I have ever seriously considered. But I'm okay with God allowing something really painful. I'd compare it to when Peter jumped out of that boat and started walking on that water toward Jesus. As long as his eyes were pinned on Jesus, he did fine. It was only when he started looking around at where he was that he started to sink and be afraid. So at this moment my eyes are GLUED to Christ. I get senses of the scary storm around me, but all I see is Him. And I am definitely okay with that. I would say I can see His face more clearly right now. And I have to admit, He's beautiful.

So all this to say, don't waste your joyful times worrying about the battles to come. God doesn't give His perfect peace that passes understanding to us when we don't need it. But don't mistake it - it's there in abundance, overflowing - when we do.

And please pray for my little boy if you think of it. Please pray that God will spare him the hard road of cancer. Please pray that we will get a good report of benign lymph nodes later this week.

But pray most of all that God will do His perfect will. Because He really does know best, whatever the circumstances are. I can say that with more assurance than I ever have before.

"It feels like chaos, but somehow there's peace." - Sanctus Real

My Only Son

2009-06-21T20:17:00.000-04:00

You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you... Isaiah 26:3

My most precious possession... my only son
With trembling hands, I lay him at Your feet
I give up control of his life, his health, his future
For I know it was never mine.

I trade my questions, my fears, my moments of doubt and bewilderment
I give them up to you, knowing that in return You promise...
Perfect peace. Beyond my capacity to understand.

A peace that doesn't make sense. A peace that surprises me, surprises those who watch me step into this trial where my son will be placed on Your altar. They know I should be wild with fear. They know I should be weeping, not praising.

And yet I praise. I praise You for being so good for an eternity past that my mind has no rational reason not to let you hold him. I praise You because You have always been a healer, compassionate to the frailty of our lowly bodies wracked with sin. Were I to turn my son over to a human being, to take him and try to heal him with shaking human weakness, I would despair. It is only because a sparrow can't fall without You watching and caring. It is only because of the droves of people that brought their children to You in order to have your holy, gentle hands heal their diseases. You have given so much hope to so many parents, that I cannot help but trust You.

My only son, yet he is yours. You deserve to have his tender heart within your capable hands that hold the universe. For You gave me Your son. Willingly. Without compulsion. I give you mine because I have no choice. He is only safe with you. You gave me yours to die in my place. You offered him on the altar for my sake that there might be some hope of my life glorifying you instead of being a waste.

My only son, because of your only Son.

Take him in Your arms. Heal him. Set him right and set him on his feet again. May he grow, and learn more about You, and follow You to places You have planned for him to journey. May he love you unreservedly, with complete trust and hope that translates into simple faith. May his life glorify Your name.

May You start a work in his heart as he walks through this trial, hand in hand with his mom and dad. May all of this be a tool used for Your kingdom, to bring honor to Your name.

For that is what I pray my only son's life will accomplish.

And I'm thankful for the peace that passes all understanding, and keeps our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Lord, You are good.

Two Purposes for Life

2009-06-17T16:14:00.000-04:00

"Did God die on the cross?"

This was the abrupt question from my three-year-old son recently, as I sat at the breakfast table with my children. Pleasantly surprised by the question, I took a minute to thank the Lord, since I have been eagerly waiting for Noah to show some interest in the cross and salvation. In my pause, my five-year-old Hannah beat me in answering.

"Yes, Jesus died on the cross for our sins."

I took a breath, about to pick up where she had left off...

"And because of that, we can have our sins forgiven and go to heaven someday. Do you have sins, Noah?"

I looked back at Noah, who was soaking up his sister's words. I was impressed. I'm not commonly sure that Noah hears a word I say.

"No, I don't have any sins." he replied, looking a little confused, as if he wasn't sure this was correct, but rather that he thought it was the right answer. He knew he SHOULDN'T have sins, even though he was pretty sure he did.

"Oh, yes, you do!" Hannah said in a cheerful tone, the excitement of her year-and-a-half as a follower of Christ spilling over in her expression.

"Oh." Noah smiled, glad that Hannah had answered for him.

I waited, wondering if the moment was over and we had lost dear Noah to thoughts of airplanes or the pool or the bug crawling on the wall. But Hannah wasn't finished with him yet.

"Would you like to ask God to forgive your sins so you can go to heaven?" she invited. I almost expected her to break forth in a rousing rendition of "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus."

"Yeah." Noah said. "And I like to fly the airplane in the backyard."

I saw Hannah's face fall a little bit, and she returned to eating her breakfast, sensing that she had lost her brother's attention.

"He's still little." I reminded her. "You're doing a good job telling others about Jesus, just like the Bible tells us."

"Yeah." she agreed. "But mom, I feel sad for the people who don't believe in Jesus when they die."

I nod, sighing. "Me too."

What I would give for such an uncomplicated version of a heart dedicated to the Great Commission. There are no obstacles for her that I let come into my heart, like "Now isn't the right time" or "I don't know what to say" or "When they ask I'll know it's time to say something." She just speaks from a heart overflowing with love for her Savior.

I know there have been and will always be times when the Spirit speaks through me and uses me to share His wonderful story. But my daughter's simple attitude convicts me that those times should come more often. That I should worry less about the mechanics of sharing the major points of theology and just live and breathe the One I love, the One who is coming, the One who is the answer to any problem this life will inevitably bring around.

After all, I'm here for a reason, and it isn't to have a nice house and fill it with nice things and have all my needs and wants met. God wouldn't have left us here for this time if there weren't a specific purpose in all the hard times we face throughout our earthly sojourning. There are two, and only two, ultimate purposes for life.

ACCEPT CHRIST.

TELL OTHERS.

Amendment

2009-06-10T21:24:00.000-04:00

It's a rather basic rule for writers. At least for this culture. Don't preach to your audience. As strongly as I feel about any subject, it is not helpful to shake my finger in people's faces and tell them what's what.

So I amend my post from yesterday. Modification is in order. While I stand by every point I made, I left out the part where I give some practical applications to how I am going to endeavor to change my heart in the matter of being a member of the Laodicean church. (see previous post)

So, how in the world can I go from where I am to the place God has for me? How can I be earnest, repent, and invite Jesus into my heart's home to fellowship with him in this busy, busy society and time?

Well, I haven't figured it all out yet. But I've got some ideas. Obviously, the answer is in the Bible. Tonight in our family devotions we read Deuteronomy 30. A verse has been stuck in my mind ever since.

See, I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. For I command you today to love the LORD your God, to walk in his ways, and to keep his commands, decrees and laws; then you will live and increase, and the LORD your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess.

The key is loving God. When we love him, it makes us desire what he desires, and the result will be that we walk in his ways. When we do that, we find peace despite our circumstances. But this key is hard to grasp hold of in a time that is so against God in so many ways. Loving God cannot happen if we don't know him. The more time we spend with him, the easier this will come to us.

So if I can focus my energy and effort on loving God more, I will see him start to work in my life toward earnestness, toward repentance, and toward fellowship with him. It's what he wants. If the Creator of this universe desires to fellowhip with me, what kind of life am I missing out on if I choose my own way?

Just my thoughts on this Wednesday evening. I pray we all figure out what God wants for the church in this time in history. He loves us. He wants us. Let's move back toward him. Let's purpose to do things his way, even if it requires more effort than we think we possess.

It's suprising what you possess when you surrender to such an amazing Source of life and peace.

The Bible Stands

2009-06-09T23:20:00.000-04:00

I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see. Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me. To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne.

What do you think when you are driving on the highway, and some driver comes along, disregarding every traffic law in the book right beside your car? Driving on the wrong side of the road, speeding or going below the speed limit, passing in no passing zones, not wearing seatbelts... or my personal pet peeve - parents who do not have young children in car seats, but rather allow them to move about the car freely and unrestrained?

Of course, it bothers all that are safe and conscientious drivers. We don't like to see people disobey the law, especially when it is we who suffer the consequences.

Consider this. Say you are driving and doing everything you should be, when a cop pulls you over, saunters up to your window, and something like this comes out of his mouth:

"A ways back you passed a car that was moving more slowly."

"I didn't exceed the speed limit." you say, a bit confused.

"Yeah, but I've decided that passing is against the law today. You just never know when passing is going to turn into speeding, and I'm not allowing it anymore."

Sounds kind of ridiculous, doesn't it? Of course this is counterproductive and not helpful to the general state of the roadways. What is concerning is that we as a church increasingly are doing everything we can to sabotage our own growth and productivity in Christ, the work He has us on this earth to do. Some of the ways we do this we don't even think about.

God made it clear from these verses from Revelation 3 to the Laodicean church (which I believe is most likely a representation of the final part of the church age)that being neither hot nor cold is unacceptable to Him. There are so many ways that we as a body of Christ make ourselves lukewarm, but all of them can be traced back to one major problem in the church today - and that is failure to yield to the authority of the Scripture.

This manifests in many different ways. Some go ahead and write new Scripture to add to the Bible. The problem arises when their words contradict the Bible. It seems people generally choose their own ideas in these cases.

Some hold on to traditions as the same as Scripture. This can be much more deceiving for believers who consider themselves to truly be saved by Christ, and may very well be. They have been taught a certain way of believing, which is very close to the Word, but still not quite right. When challenged, they cling to the traditions and teaching they have been handed down rather than cling to God's Words and let all else fall away.

It is interesting to think about some of the preconceived notions we have as a church that are not necessarily rooted in the Bible. An example of this is our ideas about Satan. I'm sure he is very relieved that the church believes he is so all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-seeing. I'm sure he's glad we think he can be everywhere, and attack each and every one of us. We've made him into a sort of "anti-God" when in reality he is only an angel. A fallen angel at that. And though he has a third of the angels that God created on his side, his abilities are so inferior to God's magnificent power that he isn't worth fearing or giving more credit than he is due. (When we are living in the strength of Christ, that is, for there is no question that he and his legions are still more powerful than us as human beings.)

We also tend to make heroes out of people, especially those who live in the past and whom we have never known personally. We have a very skewed picture of those who have gone before in Christ's name. Examples are the crusaders, whom for some reason I was taught to respect for their zeal in the name of Christ. When you take a good hard look at history, though, a great many of them actually went out and murdered God's people in Christ's name. Repercussions of these horrific acts of violence still ripple through the world today. Another example is the Puritans. They were certainly Puritans who truly loved Christ and lived for him. But a great amount of legalism existed in the Puritan life, and many people lost their freedom, their families, even their lives in honor of the rigid and impossibly stifling rules and demands Puritan leaders placed on their followers. Rules God never intended.

We tend to think that going overboard in our "righteous acts" would cause us to be "hotter" in God's eyes. In fact, it has the exact effect that God says makes him sick to his stomach. We mix our own version of righteousness, which is cold and dead, with His version, which is on fire with life and truth, and the result is a stale, disgusting, unappetizing lukewarm, like a drink that's been sitting in a hot car all afternoon.

I know this entry is long and more complex than I usually write. But if you don't read anything else, read this. God isn't interested in our brand of Christianity. It isn't good for us, it doesn't help us love or relate or win the lost he died to save. It's something that makes God sick.

That should be enough for all of us to get over what we think and just stick to what he says.

I don't mean just believing it. I mean first of all knowing it, which we are so lazy about. We are so busy and so distracted by our things and our money and our hobbies that we don't have time to study and know and love our Lord through his awesome and life-changing Book. That's why we don't know the truth, we don't understand his doctrines, and why we feel comfortable adding so much to it.

After we know what it says, we will learn to love God the way we are supposed to. The way that gives us life, and peace, and strength, and joy. He says that we should buy from him "gold refined by fire." That's not an easy thing to seek. It means we are going to have to suffer as He molds us and burns off all that doesn't belong. We would rather be happy. Healthy. Relaxed. Safe. And although the Lord promises in the passage that he does love us and wants these things for us, now is not the time. They are for later. Now we are to welcome that which seems hard.

He has two strong petitions for us: Be Earnest, (not lazy, selfish, apathetic, or proud but rather hard-working, others-focused, zealous and humble,) and then he urges us to repent. We have such a comfortable relationship with sin. We don't mind breaking God's rules as long as we don't break our own. Sin is sin, and for us to truly have a relationship with God, sin must be cared for. Whether ultimately in the saving power of Christ's gift, or day-to-day so that we can know him on a deeper level.

It's a challenge that's hard to write, because I know that I tend toward warm just as much as any other Christian in this time and place. But I want more. I want to be hot. I want God's people to be hot. We are so spoiled. It's time for us all to wake up and get it together.

I don't know if these words will mean anything, or if anyone is still reading. But I pray that we can get our temperature up in this culture and society. He's going to return, and none of us are going to be paying attention. None of us are going to be ready to leave.

Time to get ready.

But for the Grace Go I

2009-05-26T16:00:00.000-04:00

At the risk of adding to the problem, I have to say a few things about Jon and Kate Gosselin, the unlikely focus of the scrutiny of the world.

I've been bothered by the sick fascination of the media in what might be the demise of their home and marriage. Why, when there are plenty of hollywood stars who don't mind and even expect to have their pictures plastered across every tabloid in America, are two unfortunate parents taking their place?

Everyone is a judge. This blogger subscribes to a different attitude, and I believe it might serve us all to consider this perspective.

What would happen to me, if I were the parent of sextuplets and twins? If I hadn't asked for such a monumental task, hadn't done anything to cause such an unusual twist to my life, but found myself in the midst of the unthinkable with the person I had pledged my life to?

Only a handful of people can claim to know what it's like to be Jon and Kate. And what do we do? Berate them for their choices, slam them for their faults, and kick them when they are down, wagging our fingers at their shameful fall from grace. I can't take that position. Who are we to judge another's life, another's actions, another's sins or mistakes?

They took us into their homes. They allowed us to see them as they are, not hiding anything behind a mask of secrecy. We know Kate is rather uptight and controlling. She's never tried to deny that. She has admitted time and time again that it is something God is working on her to improve. And she HAS improved over the years. She's trying. We know that Jon doesn't like the spotlight. That he feels like he hasn't been able to make his own choices since stardom took over. And who among us would really like to be followed by cameras wherever they go? Isn't rebelling against that a likely response, whether right or wrong? And hasn't he apologized several times for his actions?

They have paid their debt to society and more. What happens now is between Jon Gosselin, Kate Gosselin, their Lord, and their children. It is not my business, it is not your business. We are not owed a peek into their privacy to see how they must resolve their relationship and the remnants of their dignity.

Put yourself in their position. Imagine the heartache of something that is crumbling around you that you thought would last for the rest of your life. Imagine trying to put that back together, piece by agonizing piece, while everyone around you watches and criticizes. Imagine it, and tell them that it is all their fault. We entered a trust with them when we allowed their family to be our entertainment. We have wronged them too. We've contributed, by eating up the frenzy of ridiculous media attention that they never gave permission for. By being entertained by their painful reality. By thinking that any one of us are above them because we could have done it better.

Jesus once told a mob ready to stone a woman who was caught in sin "He who is without sin may cast the first stone." I know that I'm not. There's no way I'm picking up a stone. I have fights with my husband, I have trouble remembering not to take control in our marriage, I don't always make the righteous choice. I'm sure those tendencies would be magnified a hundred fold if I were put in the situation they have been cast into. I only walk this road but for the grace of God. I only stay out of those waters by His grace.

So for Jon and Kate and their beautiful family, I will pray. Because I know that if they were standing here in this room with me, and I asked them what I could do, that's what they would ask for. They certainly wouldn't ask for my opinion, my curiosity, my judgment or my scrutiny.

Pray for them. Don't stop. And don't feed the media attention. Give this family some privacy.

All I Really Need

2009-05-23T23:32:00.000-04:00

The words I write tonight do not flow willingly or easily as usual. I like to write about things I've already learned. Things I already know about. Ways I've already seen God work for good.

There's a formidable and unrelenting grip that holds the heart of a mother. God put that tie there on purpose, so that we could protect our little ones. But when anything threatens that child, it can tear a mommy's heart in two.

About a month ago, Noah got a cold. A few days later he got a sore throat and fever. A trip to urgent care revealed he did not have strep. He was sent home "with a virus" that would resolve itself in a few days.

Well, over four weeks later, three excessively enlarged lymph nodes remain. Last week, wanting to get to the bottom of why my little boy can hardly breathe, eat or sleep because of these swollen glands, I took him to the pediatrician's office. The doctor who examined him (not his own doctor) was convinced he had mono. She sent him for a blood test to confirm. The blood test did not confirm. I took him back to see his regular doctor, and to my surprise some words began to come out of her mouth that struck terror into my heart. "I'm going to be very honest with you.... ordering more tests... Atypical lymphocytes... lymphoma... cancer."

Taking a deep breath, I asked if she was just being cautious or if she had reason to suspect the unthinkable. She assured me she was being cautious, but that sometimes lymphoma can present in this manner. She sent us for more blood work and x-rays.

As I held my baby boy in my arms as they tried unsuccessfully to find a vein that would relinquish the needed blood, and as I felt his little body stiffen and heard his cries of pain, I felt a new definition of pain that I have seldom experienced.

When Noah was born, the nurses that assisted raved about how big and strong he was. How they had never seen such a healthy heartbeat, and they cheered as they weighed and measured him. I never expected to face the possibility of him being ill.

Noah's bloodwork and tests all came back negative. I'm not exactly sure what that means. He saw an ENT who called his lymph nodes "impressive" and put him on steroids and antibiotics to try to shrink them down. In two weeks, the verdict will be made on whether a biopsy will be needed.

And so a mother waits. Sometimes scared. Sometimes at peace. During the day, able to put it to the back of her mind as she goes about the busy tasks of a mommy. Here, in the stillness of the midnight hour, shedding tears of concern for her son. And yet I know that in the darkest hours of life, Jesus is able to shine even brighter. In the weakest moments of a parent's journey, there is a strength in knowing that no matter what happens, a child is loved beyond all measure by a Creator.

And so a mother rests on the faith of a love that went the distance. On a Savior who loved enough to die. Who will bear the scars of His devotion for eternity. Surely He is able to hold my Noah in those strong and gentle hands. And though my tears may fall often in the next few days of waiting, I am ever convinced of the love of God. Of His power to overcome the sinful darkness of this world.

Jesus, You are all we really need. Thank you.

In the darkest hour I must face
I’m counting on Your grace to give me all I need
Sunless days and cheerless nights will pass
And work their work at last to form Your joy in me
For when I am weak
I find that You are strong, and

All I really need is Your grace
All I need to know is You are near me
All I need is You
All I really need is Your grace
All I need to know is You are for me
All I need is You
All I need is You

Some may place their hope in feeble men
I can’t do that again, for only You are strong
I will pray to God who lifts my head
To You who came and shed
Your blood for all my wrongs
For when I am weak
I find that You are strong, and

Lord, I know You hear my every sigh
You hear the raven’s cry and give the sparrow food
How much more will You provide in love
For those You bought with blood
and work all things for good
And when I am weak
I find that You are strong, and

Words and music by Mark Altrogge
© 2006 Sovereign Grace Praise

You can download this song for free at http://www.sovereigngracestore.com/ProductInfo.aspx?productid=M4205-00-21

Dear Noah

2009-05-13T23:49:00.000-04:00

Dear Noah,

It is safe to say that life changed forever as of September 15, 2005. My little man was born.

I didn't have any proof that you were a boy until 8:36 p.m. when you finally exited the premises and graced the world with your presence. I knew in my heart you would be a boy before you were even conceived. And though I never gave any thought to the name prior to the months before your birth, I knew your name was Noah. Daddy was hesitant, because Daddy likes common names that could not possibly be ridiculed. (Little did he know "Noah" would be in the top 15 of popular names 3 years later!)God had to do some convincing, but Daddy ended up sure that Noah you must be.

Noah means "rest." It seemed appropriate when you spent the first two weeks of your life doing little but sleeping. But now that you are three and 48 pounds of boundless unrelenting energy, it seems a little incongruous.

It's true, you give your mommy little "rest" these days, but still there is something, beneath all those layers of over sized preschooler hyperactivity, in spite of the frequent uncalled for screeches out of nowhere at the dinner table, regardless of the complete absence of volume discretion when you use your voice... that speaks peace to me. Who would think that such a crazy little boy is actually thoughtful, observant, perceptive to the feelings of others, and empathetic beyond his years?

God knew what He was doing when He gently insisted that you be named Noah. And God has a plan for your life. I'm so excited to see what He will do through you to affect the world around you for His glory. I'm so glad that the sleepy 9 1/2 pound, red-headed baby boy I held in my arms one quiet Thursday night 3 1/2 years ago has become the tall, solid red-headed little boy I spend my days with now. I'm glad that you love your sisters. I'm glad that you walk in your Daddy's shadow. I'm glad for your jokes and your deafening belly laugh and your monster sounds and your aptitude for figuring out a problem.

Noah, you bring rest to my soul.

Love,
Mommy

Happy Endings

2009-04-27T13:42:00.000-04:00

Some women like dinner in a fine restaurant. Some like a picnic in the park. Some like a darkened theater and a tub of popcorn.

I also like these things when my husband and I get a few cherished hours to ourselves. I've had many a good date with my love doing all of the above.

But if he really wants to impress me, he knows to take me to a haunted house and cemetery, as he did this past Saturday afternoon.

If you've read more than a post or two from this blog, you probably aren't a bit surprised to hear of my affection for the morbid fantastical. It's not really morbid in my mind. I like old houses full of history and stories, so the Thurber House in downtown Columbus caught my attention and provided me with an afternoon of reveling in the quiet halls of the past. I like cemeteries, especially very old, very creepy cemeteries like Greenlawn in Columbus for sort of the same reason: history. My mind goes into blissful overload as I imagine who Cornelia August Weller was and why she died at the age of 21 in 1842. It just sweetens the experience when I read in fascination that "Those who knew her best loved her most." Was she lost to a cholera epidemic? Did she catch pneumonia? Did she give her life in vain to bring a stillborn child into the world?.

And what of Georgie Bowland who lived for only two short days in dismal February in the year 1852? What anguish did his parents experience as they laid their little son below the snow?

As we wandered on, we came upon the imposing stone mausoleum of the Hayden family that was built in 1904. Beautiful copper green with age elegantly lined the roof, and ornate metal covered the antiquated wooden doors. Chilled air blew between the dark opening and met our skin in a shocking difference to the 85 degrees of the air outside. I peeked in, and broken down stones and lonely oppressive atmosphere was my only greeting from the floor of broken tiles to the moss covered stain glass in the ceiling.

My husband and I began to talk about our own eventual mortality, should Jesus not return in our lifetime. Since I sincerely believe He will, I don't take death as seriously as my engineer minded husband. I told him in all truthfulness that I would like the eeriest looking statue that could be found to be placed atop my tombstone, so that in two or three hundred years I could creep out every visitor that came near. Since he would be sharing a stone with me, he was going to have to come to terms with that idea. He said that was fine. He asked me what I wanted written on my tombstone.

I thought of Cornelia, who was loved best by those that knew her most. I thought of Georgie, whose parents love lives on even after their own demise. I carefully mulled over the idea and finally said. "With Jesus." I decided. "Or maybe 'Finally.'"

No matter whether Jesus hasn't returned in hundreds of years. Whether I meet him in a cloud in the air, or I cross the darkness and enter His welcoming light through the shades of death, either way I will be with Him. Forever.

I guess that's why I like happy endings. No matter how sad the story is, no matter how fraught with trouble and heartache, if there's a happy ending, then it's all been worth it.

For every moment will be worth it all - when I set eyes on my Savior.

The first picture at the top is the haunted stairwell of the Thurber House on Jefferson Avenue in Columbus, Ohio. Well substantiated experiences of people including James Thurber himself report pacing in the dining room followed by the sound of someone running very quickly up the stairs. The rest of the pictures are from Greenlawn Cemetery in Columbus, which was opened in 1848.

Reflections of a Daughter of Jerusalem

2009-04-11T22:22:00.000-04:00

In observance of the Easter holiday, I'm posting some excerpts from my first novel, "Daughter of Jerusalem," which I wrote in 2004. The story is from the perspective of Mary Magdelene, and we are joining her as she stands before the cross. I hope you enjoy!

The next few hours seemed to move in slow motion. I felt as if I were drifting under water, so powerless and weak I was. I stood helplessly as the one who had given me my life back gave up his life. He did this without a word of protest or indignation. The soldiers crucified the criminals and then turned their full attention on Yeshua. They stripped him of his clothes, and mounted him on the wooden frame. Carelessly they strapped his arms down and one of them brought forth large metal spikes.

Yeshua cried out in agony as the soldier steadied the spike at his wrist and gave it a swift bang with the hammer. I cried with him, standing as near as the soldiers would allow. The others remained quiet, watching in sorrow as our dearest friend and son was nailed to that Roman cross, and then raised and dropped into the hole that had been dug. As the cross fell rigidly into position, his body shuddered in unimaginable suffering. Yet his words caused the soldiers to stop in their tracks and look at him.

“Father, forgive them. They don't know what they are doing.” he prayed.

“I knew this day would come. Somehow, I've always known.” I heard his mother whisper circumspectly.

The crowd began to disperse as the soldiers finished their motley duty and sat down in a huddle to play games in the dirt, casting lots over who should win the garment that Yeshua had worn. I saw Mary’s tears fall anew as she beheld the clothing.

“I made that tunic for him, when he left home.” She explained with great sorrow.

I saw the centurion in charge turn slightly as she spoke. He stole a glance at her, and I thought I saw some sort of emotion on his face. We made our way closer, and stood underneath the cross as a thick darkness settled over the city, like the darkness before a storm.

Yeshua suddenly became aware of our presence. He looked upon his mother, who lifted sad eyes to watch her firstborn die.

“Dear woman,” he said to her between heaving gasps for air. “Behold your son.”

She looked at John, who stood beside her.

“Here is your mother.” Yeshua managed to say to John before he began to cough and struggle for air. His eyes fell on me as well, and though he said nothing, I could read his heart.

“Trust me, Mary. Trust me even when everything seems to be lost.”

He had a short conversation with the other criminals, and then his expression turned anxious. He lifted his eyes to the sky and searched back and forth in great agitation.

“Eloi, Eloi lama sabachthani!“ he shouted in a mournful and forsaken tone.

“What did he say?” I asked John in a whisper, unable to discern his words.

“I think he asked God why he had forsaken him.” John replied ruefully.

“I am thirsty.” Yeshua spoke again, his voice raspy as he heaved for breath.

Mary sprung into action, demanding that the soldiers give him a drink. They smiled tolerantly at her and did not move, but a man came and lifted a sponge that was soaked in wine vinegar to Yeshua's mouth. He took a small drink, then moved his head away from it. He lifted his eyes again to the heavens, recognizing something that we did not see or hear.

“It is finished.” He spoke judiciously, great relief seeming to relax him.

“No,” I whispered hopelessly. “Don't give up, Adonai!”

Yeshua bowed his head and spoke one final, slurred sentence.

“Abba, into your hands I commit my spirit.” He prayed, and then he went limp.

Never have I felt such anguish and complete desolation as I did in that moment. I fell to the ground, no tears left to cry, no emotion that could express the depth of the grief that tormented my soul. He was gone. The one we had followed, had trusted, had given everything up for was dead. Broken, defeated, and dead.

Not a split second after he died, the wind began to blow, and the sky went completely black as night. Thunder rumbled and lightning shot across the sky in a display I had never seen before. John futilely tried to herd us to shelter, but it was no use. The rain pelted us and the ground began to shake with a tremulous earthquake. Screams went up everywhere as terrified people ran for cover. We huddled together and waited for the dark despair of the earth and sky, which seemed to lament the loss of its Creator, to once again be calm. It seemed that all of nature protested the crime that had been committed, so that even the hardened Roman centurion who had callously ordered the spike driven into Yeshua's healing hands was the one who summed it all up the most eloquently.

“Surely this man was the Son of God.”

Two days later...

On Sunday morning, before I even saw the first glimpse of sunrise in the eastern sky, I woke the other women. We prepared the spices that Lazarus had gone home to Bethany to bring to us, to take to the tomb. We set off on our terrible duty, silently and reverently making our way out of the city to the garden where Mary and I had returned from a few hours before.

Mary and I arrived first, hurrying ahead of the other women.

“How will we move the stone?” Mary was asking as we turned the corner to ascend the steps to the tomb.

She stopped suddenly, her hand going out to stop me.

“Look!” she whispered in fear. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to behold what she saw. A chill went up my spine as I saw the dark entrance to the tomb, and the huge stone rolled away! Beside the heavy stone were two Roman guards, lying on the ground, looking very much like they were dead!

“They've taken him!” I breathed in reply. “We've got to tell Cephas and John!”

Dropping the spices where they were, I raced back to the place where the disciples were. I passed the other women on the way, and they gave me a strange look.

“Cephas! John!” I practically screamed as we threw open the door and fell into the room. They jumped to their feet.

“What's wrong?” Cephas asked as he punched his arms into his cloak.

“He's gone! He's gone!” was all I could manage at first.

“What?” John replied in disbelief.

“They must have taken him! We don't know where they put him!” I tried to explain breathlessly.

Immediately they brushed past us and ran for the tomb. I took a deep breath and ran after them. I had to know.

John got to the tomb first. He stopped short in front of it, leaning down and peering inside, but suddenly afraid to go any further. Cephas wasn't afraid, however, and hurried past him into the tomb. A few moments later both of them came back to where I stood.

“Is he there?” I suddenly felt the lump in my throat and the tears stinging my eyes. Cephas shook his head and walked on, muttering something to himself. John stared thoughtfully back at the tomb.

“All that is there is the strips of linen he was wrapped in. Just sitting there like he just vanished into thin air.”

He left me and walked down the path after Cephas. I was left alone. I stepped closer to the tomb, and boldly dared to peek within. I was astonished to see two people, shining brightly in white clothes and smiling at me. Only as I looked back on it later would I realize that they were angels. They were sitting where Yeshua's body had been laid.

“Why are you crying?” One of them asked cheerfully, as if crying were an absurd choice on such a happy occasion. I stared at them in complete and utter disbelief.

“They have taken my Adonai away,” I stammered. “And I don't know where they have put him.”

I heard a sound behind me and swung around, seeing the form of a man but unable to make out whom it was because of the tears that were flooding my eyes. I assumed it was the gardener.

“Woman, why are you crying?” he asked in a strangely familiar voice. I was too preoccupied to notice to whom it belonged. “Who are you looking for?”

I sobbed and came closer to him. “Sir, if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I'll go get him.” I knew the words didn't make sense. But my mind was so confused by the events of the day that I was completely beyond sounding coherent.

There was a long pause, and then I heard the sound that brought every inch of confusion into sudden and complete clarity.

“Mary.”

The same voice that had spoken my name in exactly that way so many times before was unmistakable to my listening ears. It was Yeshua! He was alive!

“Rabboni!” I cried out, falling to my knees before him and reaching for his feet.

“Don't hold on to me, Mary. Instead, go tell my brothers that I have risen and I will come to them!”

I beheld his familiar face, now whole again, free of the blood and the wounds and the bruises. He was simply my Adonai again. With a clean white robe and a light shining from his face that I had never seen before and do not possess the words to explain, he stood before me, smiling affectionately and still chuckling at my astonished joy.

“Go, Mary!” he said again, and I turned and ran as fast as I could to bear the news to the disciples.

Good Friday?

2009-04-10T09:47:00.001-04:00

It is a day of remembering. It is a day to step back and really look at what we tend to take for granted, even as the beloved of Christ.

I look at the cross, and I see love. I see the love that came through time and matter and transformed into my own weak likeness for one simple mission. To bring me out of my helpless circumstance. Sin held me captive, forcing me like a slave to do its work. With love as a constant motive, he let weak humans beat him. Spit on him. Mock him. Nail him in shame to a cross for all to jeer at him. He had the restraint not to call down their doom. He had the patience to ask for their forgiveness. He had the love - for me - to stay there on that cross until the very last sin had been atoned. He bore the weight of all the horrific crime that mankind has been capable of in a few thousand years of history. All of that rested on his shoulders. How strong my beloved is!

I look at the cross, and I see peace. This world is a frightening place. There are earthquakes, tornadoes, murder, hatred, warring, cancer, disease, depression and addiction. That's just today's news. But in all of that, the sweet peace of Jesus is a constant balm to troubled souls. His peace exceeds my understanding. I only know it is there, and there is nothing that I should or must fear.

I look at the cross, and I see hope. Hope for those who have been bound too long in sin. Hope because he stands before every one of us, holding out his heart, his life, his love. There is hope that we don't have to stay where we are. That we will be eternally safe by simply reaching out and taking his hand. Hope is real, because we don't have to be clean or right or secure before he will accept us. He takes us as we are, and makes us beautiful by his touch.

What do you see when you look at the cross? Do you see an awful tale of woe? If you do, you don't understand. When you look at the cross, you are looking at your remedy.

Here we are
Here we are
The broken and used
Mistreated, abused
Here we are

Here You are
Here You are
The beautiful one
Who came like a Son
Here You are

So we lift up our voices
We open our hands
To cling to the love
That we can't comprehend

Oh, lift up your voices
And lift up your heads
To sing of the love
That has freed us from sin

He is the one
Who has saved us
He is the one
Who embraced us
He is the one who has come
And is coming again
He's the remedy

Here we are
Here we are
Bandaged and bruised
Awaiting a cure
Here we are

Here You are
Here You are
Our beautiful King
Bringing relief
Here You are with us

So we lift up our voices
And open our hands
Let go of the things
That have kept us from Him

He is the one
Who has saved us
He is the one
Who forgave us
He is the one who has come
And is coming again
He's the remedy

Oh, I can't comprehend
I can't take it all in
Never understand
Such perfect love come
For the broken and beat
For the wounded and weak
Oh, come fall at His feet
He's the remedy
He's the remedy

So sing, sing

You are the one
Who has saved us
You are the one
Who forgave us
You are the one who has come
And is coming again
To make it alright
Oh, to make it alright
You're the remedy
Oh, in us
You're the remedy

-David Crowder Band

Red Envelope Day

2009-03-29T22:43:00.000-04:00

Because a person's a person, no matter how small. - Dr. Seuss

I wanted to make sure that everyone knows about Red Envelope Day, March 31.

Just a quick explanation. As a Christian, I am concerned about the 50 million lives that have been lost through legalized abortion. Although I have strong belief that the war for these precious lives is more successfully won through love and support of both women and babies, I know that God would honor a country that honors life and protects the helpless.

It is with this concern that we are reaching out. It is the goal to send as many red envelopes to President Obama on March 31st as we possibly can, each one empty and representing a life that was not allowed to be lived.

You can get all the information you need at http://www.redenvelopeday.com/index.html - including sending online, where all you have to do is pay for your share and they will send them for you, or you can find out useful info such as how to make red envelopes from paper if you cannot find them in the store (I couldn't.)

So get involved! It's a chance to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves. One little red envelope would never be noticed at the White House, but if we were able to send millions, perhaps minds would be changed. You never know what can be accomplished when the family of God comes together in unity and faith.

Beloved of God

2009-03-29T22:42:00.000-04:00

I mentioned that I'd been reading this past month. That was quite the understatement. For a couple weeks, every spare moment as well as several sleepless nights found me devouring over 2500 pages of books. I did not expect to be so taken in by this series. When I tell you what it was, some of you will raise an eyebrow and maybe think a little less of me. (That's okay.) I was certainly skeptical before I opened the first book. But I don't like judging books by their cover. So I gave it a try.

In an attempt to explain myself so that you might be persuaded not to list me in the "crazy" file in your brain, I have to mention that I am not a casual reader. You may have noticed this if you read my blog on any sort of regular basis. I either can't get past the first ten or twenty pages of a novel, or I obsessively can't stop reading until the very last word of the epilogue and acknowledgments. You already know how this one went.

I will carefully try to explain why I found the "Twilight" series compelling enough to write a blog entry about them - without giving away too much in case you would like to read them yourself. But in case I do not succeed, please be warned before you continue reading this post! And yes - I'm getting to why I called this entry "Beloved of God" and what that possibly has to do with a teenage story about vampires and werewolves. Of course my little disclaimer - there was a bit of language that I don't condone and some problems with theology that of course I can't agree with biblically and I would caution that these are not children's books - there are themes that are for the more mature teenager and adult, as well as violence that would be troubling for a youngster.

"You were very nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment - because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time all I could think was, 'Not her.'" - Edward to Bella, Twilight

This quote from the first book encompasses the main reason this story resonated in my being. It reminds me of my real, true life love, not my husband (who is wonderful and good and someone I won't mind spending eternity with) but rather Jesus, who saw me about to be crushed to death by sin, and sprang to action, running all the way to the cross to rescue me, all the while whispering under his breath.... "Not her."

I found myself on more than one occasion close to tears as the unlikely vampire hero, Edward, reminded me of Jesus over and over. In his restraint. In his sensitivity to others. In his striking beauty, his power. In his commitment to do right even when pressured to do wrong. But mostly in his love. His love that would rather suffer than let his beloved come to harm. Love that was strong and deep and enduring, even immortal. Love that considered her needs more important than his own. Love that kept watch through the long nights, singing a lullaby to chase away the nightmares.

I can't help but sigh for the thousands of teenage girls that read these books and went away dissatisfied, longing for their Edward that they are sure they will never find, when the truth is they are loved beyond all imagination. Loved more than Edward loved Bella enough to wait for her for a hundred years. Loved so much that there is One who longs to make them His immortal bride. That's the draw for me in these books... not because they are fantasy, but because the most important elements are so amazingly true!

It's something I tend to forget. I know all too well who I am, and I know I don't deserve to be loved this way, just as Bella often felt. I somehow distance myself from the love of my life, I think about Him often as a leader, a father, even, but it's hard for me to think of him as the hero of my love story. It's hard for me to think of myself as the heroine, I should say. Why would he love me enough to make me his own for eternity, knowing that I am weak and human? But he does. For some beautiful, unsearchable reason he does, and when he returns, he's going to make me like him. He's going to make me beautiful and strong and eternal and someone worth living with forever.

Pastor reminded us of this amazing truth this morning in his sermon. No longer destined for destruction, I am saved to be his bride. I am loved. I have nothing to fear, for he is right there beside me in the darkest hours, holding me, singing to me the song his love wrote.

I am sure it sounds something like this poignant song by Tenth Avenue North:

Love of my life
Look deep in my eyes
There you will find what you need
Give me your life

The lust and the lies
And the past you’re afraid I might see
You’ve been running away from me

You’re my beloved lover
I’m yours
Death shall not part us
It’s you I died for
For better or worse
Forever we’ll be
My love it unites us and it binds you to me
It’s a mystery

Love of my life
Look deep in my eyes
There you will find what you need

I'm the giver of life
I’ll clothe you in white
My immaculate bride you will be
Come running home to me

You’re my beloved lover
I’m yours
Death shall not part us
It’s you I died for
For better or worse forever we’ll be
My love it unites us and it binds you to me
It’s a mystery

You’ve been a mistress my wife
Chasing lovers that won’t satisfy
Won’t you let me make you my bride
You will drink of my lips and you’ll taste new life

You’re my beloved lover
I’m yours
Death shall not part us
It’s you I died for
For better or worse forever we’ll be
My love it unites us and it binds you to me
It’s a mystery

Mostly I dream about being with you forever. - Bella to Edward

Catching Up

2009-03-29T21:37:00.000-04:00

First of all, I want to say that I am sorry for neglecting my blog for the past month. I have had many things to say, as always, but no time to say it! Life as a homeschooling mom of three continues to get busier, and I have had added time consuming happenings such as a lovely flu and over 2500 pages of a book series that I could not put down. (I'll be writing about that.)

I am going to write probably three more entries tonight, to get down all of these thoughts that have been rolling around in my brain. And I'm going to try to make time when I've got something to say from now on!

Picture: My daughter Talia has recently become mobile and I came in after her nap to find my little prisoner looking at me through her bars.

God Guides, Continued

2009-02-19T15:28:00.000-05:00

In my last post I talked about two families that recently made an impact on me. I wrote that I was willing and desirous for God to lead our own family to new spiritual heights, whatever they might be. I knew that making such a statement would result in new things coming our way. I wasn't disappointed.

My first thought at the time of my last post was concerning the rest of my family. How would they feel about the promises I wished to make, the sacrifices I was willing to give? Before I could tell my husband what was on my mind, he began to say the same things. Our study of the Word was leading us both down the same path. God was seeking to unite our hearts as one before Him.

And He's led in some unexpected directions. I expected fanfare, international assignments, book deals and miraculous appointments. God had other plans.

Immediately I was convicted about certain avenues of our life that are not exactly honoring to God. Pete and I have both been pressed in our spirit about taking careful note of all the television and online entertainment we have enjoyed in the past. If I were to list the culprits that have not measured up, you wouldn't be shocked by what we were watching. Most would consider it tame. It's funny how getting even a step closer to the Lord puts a spotlight on our most normal and accepted vices. We're still praying about a few, and thinking through the pros and cons carefully. It's harder for me as a writer to work through the discernment process because my thoughts are always on the story. To me, content can be validated by overall message. I know that not every Christian can appreciate this freedom, but my concern is that the message at the end of a movie or a program or a book, any kind of story, really, have some sort of value to character, to spirit or to the upholding of what is good and right - the essence of truth. If it does, then the content is usually, within reason and age appropriateness, of lesser concern to me. The story is everything. So I am working through why I engage with a particular story and what value it holds for me or our family.

We've also felt the need to begin reading the Bible and praying as a family daily, or as close to daily as we can get. The key here is doing it because we want to know Christ better, because we want to be involved in the process of change for us and for others by way of prayer. If you try to do something in order to check it off the list and say you've done it, even if it's done for God, it will fail. Our biggest obstacle in this arena is my husband's schedule. He has been very busy at work, sometimes working later into the evening. He leaves before the sun is up. We are hoping God will continue to work out this commitment and that we will see Him provide time where there is none.

We've also been impacted to think more seriously about missions and service. Not necessarily taking trips around the world, though we are open to that, but praying that God would show us new avenues to share His love with needy people. We are looking forward to seeing how He leads us down this particular path in the next few years.

So there you have it, my update of sorts to my previous post. I'm praying that you are finding your way in the wonderful adventure God has planned for your life as well.

Where God Guides, God Provides

2009-02-06T14:30:00.001-05:00

Where God guides, God provides. - Michelle Duggar, "20 and Counting"

It's easy to say. It's much more difficult to live by this statement.

I've been reading "Multiple Blessings" by Kate Gosselin and "20 and Counting" by Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar. Their families have become special to ours, as the very little television we watch as a family usually involves one or the other's TLC program. If you are not familiar with these families, I'll introduce you. Though not in their plan, Jon and Kate Gosselin, already parents of twin girls, became the parents of healthy sextuplets, three more girls and three boys. The Duggars, who began their family 25 years ago, felt that God was leading them after a heartbreaking miscarriage to leave the details of how many children God would give them in His capable hands. Having just added their eighteenth to the clan last month, they don't regret that choice for a second and have seen God do amazing things in their home.

These families, and particularly these two mothers, have affected me deeply. I am astounded at their stories, and so convicted for the small worries and selfish desires I let control my decisions and my attitude and actions as a wife and mother.

Both of these women are committed Christians. What convicts me is their willingness to put their lives, their families, their good, challenging, and even bad moments on display for the world to look at. They don't try to portray themselves or their family in any light besides the truth. We've watched Kate have quite a few meltdowns and tense moments with her husband. But when it is all said and done, she doesn't try to excuse her behavior. She refuses to hide who she is and quite honestly explains that she is a work in progress. What is so incredibly encouraging about her sincerity is that you can point to a time in the past when she was less able to deal with stress, when she was more disrespectful of her husband, and less patient with her kids. She's growing. She's becoming more like Jesus. And whatever point we start at, God only asks us to do one thing. Get better. Slowly, quickly, whatever we can do, to keep plodding on, putting one foot in front of the other toward the goal.

Michelle was incredibly open in her book about how far she has come in her walk with Christ, and some of the sinful habits and thoughts that God has led her through and allowed her to master. I had assumed that she must have extremely easy pregnancies to be pregnant for 144 months of her life. She doesn't. She has morning sickness, she's had problems such as preeclampsia and transverse presentations requiring c-sections, she has a terrible time breastfeeding even now.

But what surprises me and intrigues me the most is the honest answer these two women give to the question "How in the world do you do that?" They quickly reply that it's not easy. It's downright impossible. But for every step that they take in faith, trusting God to provide, even when the way is completely dark and frightening, He is there. Miraculously, graciously, lovingly, He is there. Assuring them that whatever is given to Him will succeed.

Neither of these women asked for God to please give them so many children and challenges. But I find myself almost a little envious. Not of the struggles, but of the path that they have been on with the Lord. They've got to see His faithfulness in a way that most of us just don't allow Him to show us.

We've adopted the policy that this world offers. If something is hard, if something seems impossible or impractical or painful, forget it. Avoid it at all costs. Take whatever measures necessary to protect yourself. I've thought this way about a lot of medical problems I've had, and even about my difficult pregnancies, the complications I've experienced in just three births.

But reading or watching the stories of what God can do makes me sad to realize all the blessing I have missed because of my unwillingness to let God do big, hard things in my life. I want to know Him. My life verses, chosen in Rome 14 years ago as I beheld what the early Christians were willing to sacrifice for Christ, came from Philippians 3. "I want to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, become like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection of the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on toward the goal for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

God's leading me back to that place. (He doesn't let things go, does He?) He gently keeps on speaking. Will you trust Me to do greater things in your life? Part of me begs Him not to. But a bigger part of me really wants to know Him more deeply, to see the things He can do with me, with our family if we let Him.

So you can mark this day as the day I gave it all up. I offered my body a living sacrifice today, to do whatever God sees fit. I'll keep you posted on what He does. And know I haven't promised Him everything lightly. I'm scared to death. But He keeps whispering "Give Me all," and I can't ignore His silent instruction any longer.

Can you?

It's time for healing, time to move on.
It's time to fix whats been broken too long.
Time to make right, what has been wrong.
It's time to find my way to where I belong.

There's a wave that's crashing over me,
and all I can do is surrender.

Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos but somehow theres peace.
And it's hard to surrender to what I can't see,
but I'm giving into something heavenly.

time for a milestone, time to begin again,
re-evaluate who I really am.
Am I doing everything to follow your will?
I'm just climbing aimlessly over these hills.

So show me what it is you want from me,
I'd give everything, I surrender to...

Whatever you're doing inside of me.
It feels like chaos but somehow theres peace.
And though it's hard to surrender to what I can't see,
I'm giving into something heavenly.
Something heavenly...

Time to face up, clean this old house.
Time to breathe in, and let everything out,
that I've wanted to say, for so many years.
Time to release some of held back tears.

Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos but I believe...

You're up to something bigger than me,
larger than life, something heavenly.

Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos but now I can see...
This is something bigger than me,
larger than life, something heavenly.
Something heavenly...

It's time to face up, clean this old house.
Time to breathe in, and let everything out. - Sanctus Real "Whatever You're Doing"

Check out the Gosselin's or the Duggar's websites, links to your left!

Move That Bus!

2009-01-22T23:25:00.000-05:00

On Inauguration Day, we broke away from homeschool at a quarter to noon in order to view the swearing-in of our new president. As President Obama took his oath and the crowd cheered, Noah, sensing a sort of excitement though he wasn't sure what was going on, eagerly stood and shouted "Move that bus!"

All jokes and "Extreme Makeover - Home Edition" comments aside, I have a few thoughts rolling around in my head that I wanted to get down. I went into more depth about Barack Obama in a previous post, about what I could find concerning his background and character. I am not writing today to say anything positive or negative about the man himself. He's our president now, and the Bible commands us to respect him as the leader God has allowed to be in control. He has my respect, and he has my allegiance - provided that what he asks of me does not oppose what my Savior requires of me. Titus 3:1 says Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good, to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and to show true humility toward all men.

What I have to say concerns the masses. Maybe you. I am troubled by the way I see people reacting to this human being who has been appointed as a leader. It would be one thing if it were just the ones who worked hard to get him elected. It would even be somewhat understandable if it were just Americans. But why are all the nations of the world heralding praises of a man who has yet to prove he even knows how to lead? What about this person does the world seem to see that makes them think he is the answer to all the problems of the world?

On the broadcast we watched, the newscaster told the story of how the elder President George Bush used to say that the presidency was hard on the knees for all the praying he did. The newscaster went on to say something along the lines of "we certainly don't see any of that here today." She was saying it as a complement. When did it become a positive and good thing to be so sure of one's self that there is no desire to pray, to be humble, to admit weakness and need for help?

Somewhere along the line, whether it be in a month or a year, we are going to see him fail. It is inevitable, because he is a man, just like every other man who walks any given street in any given country of the world. None of us can be right all the time, none of us can solve the issues of poverty and racism and strife and crime and hate. None of us can prevent natural disasters from occurring, and none of us can assure anyone else that they will see tomorrow. For a people to put their hope in a man ensures that disappointment and disillusionment will necessarily follow. It is too big of a burden to place on anyone's back, save the Lord Jesus. He IS the answer to all the ills of the world. He WILL end poverty, racism, strife, crime and hate. He WILL be King of kings and Lord of Lords, and reign over this earth with justice and fairness and love. That is the day that we all long for, whether we realize it or not. To settle for less, to settle for something or someone that cannot satisfy that longing is to set ourselves up for heartache.

If you find yourself placing your hope in man, I urge you to reconsider your values today. Christ can be trusted. His death and His return to life give us all the proof we need that He will be solving all the world's problems when the timing is perfect. And when that day comes, as I am convinced it will SOON, you DO NOT WANT TO BE on the opposite side.

Stop trusting in man, who has but a breath in his nostrils. Of what account is he? Isaiah 2:22

I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and makes war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God. The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean. Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. "He will rule them with an iron scepter." He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:
KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS. Revelation 19:11-16

Musings on Oil

2009-01-20T00:32:00.001-05:00

Who knew oil could be so interesting?

My husband and I have been reading David Jeremiah's new book What In The World Is Going On? and I have learned some interesting new facts that have initiated a new train of thought that I wanted to write about to sort out the ideas.

First of all, I find it quite interesting to realize that the smelly and often expensive gas we pump into our cars every few days or weeks has quite a history. It seems a few thousand years ago there was "some sort" of cataclysmic event that destroyed all life. Even secular scientists and archaeologists are now admitting that there is evidence for a spectacular flood, though they refuse to acknowledge all the details of the Bible. But it seems that most of this life that was suddenly extinguished by water was concentrated in the region the Bible describes as the Garden of Eden.

You can't have all life on earth destroyed and not leave some kind of reminder of the event. All that lush vegetation Genesis tells us of, all those lives lost in and around the fertile crescent, over time, became the rich and necessary oil that pretty much holds up our society today.

We as Americans have put ourselves in a tenuous place. We have become so ingrained with greed and the constant desire for more that we have placed ourselves at the mercy of the people who now occupy the lands where this oil is located, deep underground. And while the majority of Muslim people are peaceable, there is a dangerous and ever-growing sect of Islam that has one goal. Destroy Israel and all her sympathizers. Rule the world. At ANY cost.

Right now, America guzzles up an embarrassing amount of oil compared to other nations. While Russia and Europe and even the nations that possess such rich commodities use under 10% of the resources available, our figure is near 30%!

It seems that this addiction to oil may be the downfall of a country that so many fought so hard to free. Could it be that the past 232 years of US History could be obliterated in a heartbeat because we became so dependent on nations that despise our freedom?

I'm afraid for the future of this country that has been a safe haven for the Jewish people and for Christians alike. I pray that we can all take seriously the threats that loom about us and make it a priority to stop grasping all that we can get and start thinking about conserving, about restricting ourselves, about learning to live in a more moderate and sensible manner.

After all, isn't our attitude about possessions and wanting more what brought on this economic crisis in the first place? When we decided that we didn't need to actually earn the money we spent, that we deserved to have it all? It wasn't just individuals either. I'm concerned about the amount of money our government spends when the stores are not only empty, but well in the negative.

It's time to adopt some new attitudes. It's time to come together as a nation and make some changes. I only hope that we will realize this before it is too late.

I also look forward more each day to the coming of the Lord Jesus. To see His face and know that the threat is over, that the evil that resides in the world will never be able to seek to destroy us again.

Come, Jesus. I'm so ready to be with You.

Something BIG

2009-01-14T22:57:00.001-05:00

Attempt something so big for God that it is sure to fail without Him.

I find it ironic that both on both my maternal and paternal side, I have a great-grandfather who left this life a hero. My dad's grandpa, William Parsons, whom I have mentioned before, died saving his children from a runaway stagecoach. Mom's grandpa, Ollie Doughty, was a counselor to a U.S. president who arguably made the most important decision any world leader has ever had to make.

I know, bold statement, but do I have the proof to back it up? I can only tell you the random facts that have been passed on to me from different sources. I guess you'll have to decide.

He was born near the Ozark mountains. (The picture is of one of HIS daughters with one of mine. There is a picture of me sitting on his lap but I don't have it on my computer.) He married a girl named Beulah who at the tender age of fourteen had her mind set on being a minister and having quite a bit of children. (That's a story for another time!) My quiet, stay-out-of-the-limelight Grandpa Doughty raised his quiver-full of children and grandchildren to respect him and be good, but he also had a very special visitor to his gas station in Missouri one quiet day.

His name was Harry Truman.

Grandpa and Mr. Truman must have had a good talk that day. Because later, when President Truman was in the midst of staggering decisions that would shape the course of history and fulfill biblical prophecy, he kept on writing Grandpa. He kept on asking his advice. And my grandpa answered.

Here I must say that I personally have never laid eyes on these letters. I know they are still in the family, but they have ended up in the hands of one of my mom's relatives whom we do not have regular contact with. (If you are one of those relatives and you have happened upon this website, please know that other descendants of Ollie Doughty would LOVE to be able to read through that correspondence.)

Okay, so my Great-Grandpa was friends with President Truman. He probably had a lot of friends. He was in politics. Why do I think that fact is so amazing?

God chose a people out of all the peoples of the earth. He called this chosen nation Israel. He promised Israel that he would bless them, that He would give them a land that would be their own, if they followed and obeyed His commands. Even when they were unfaithful to God, He kept His promise. A tiny little nation, repeatedly attacked and despised from so many other nations over a period of thousands of years should not still exist. But God has kept His remnant until the end.

So what does all this have to do with Harry Truman? Wednesday, May 12, 1948, President Truman met with advisers in the oval office. He had one timid defender, Clark Clifford, present. He was besieged with threats and angry resolve from General George C. Marshall. Israel SHOULD NOT be given their nation and land back. They were a few hundred thousand Jews in the face of millions of Arab people. It was simply a matter of numbers.

But Harry Truman knew better. He knew that what he was in the position to vote in favor of what was God's will. And against the better judgment of his peers, and maybe even on the advice of a dear friend back in Missouri, Harry Truman cast his vote in the UN meeting, becoming the DECIDING vote to allow the nation of Israel to be once again, after so many hundreds and thousands of years. To perhaps set in motion the events that would lead to the very end of this age.

So you see why I am proud of my Great-Grandpa Doughty, and even more so of his friend, President Truman. God gave him a wonderful opportunity to do something big, something amazing in light of the Bible. He could have yielded to pressure and voted against God's people. He would have faded into history and I believe the USA would not have enjoyed the extreme blessing of the past 60 years. But he took a stand, a leap, and jumped into prophecy and history and became God's tool for good.

I suppose it makes sense that my ancestor's blood flows through me. I have always wanted to be a part of something big. Here in this moment, having little ones and all the hormones associated with that stage of life makes me take pause for their safety. But I have always itched to stand up and be counted in a big way. (There is a song I have on my MP3 player that speaks to the rhythm of my heart. I will post the words at the end of this entry.)

As well my heart bleeds for Israel. Right now they are in the midst of a struggle for their nation and their desire to live in peace without fear for their safety. I wish I could stand beside them, look Hamas, the protesters and the media in the eye and say What if it was you? Do you think they should shrivel up and die just because you say so? And you who are Americans, why do you think you have been so blessed? It is only because you have stood beside her. To die standing beside Israel is better than to live and stand against her.

I have God's Word on that.

I wanna see something I've not seen
Something so big
I wanna be a part of something great
Greater than me

It's time to dream big dreams
To see Your vision
Become reality
‘Cause it’s for You, by You, those who
Love You wanna do

Something so big
It’s destined to fail without You, Lord
It’s gonna fail without You, Lord
Something so great
It takes a miracle to do
We, Your children
Wanna do something big for You

We, yes, we are gonna sing a brand new song
Something so strong
We will be the sound that wakes the dawn
Something so loud

It’s time for breaking through
‘Cause there are no limits
For he who holds the truth
When it’s for You, and by You, and those who
Love You wanna do

Something bigger, something greater
For the glory of Your splendor
Something bigger, something greater
Tell the story of Your wondrous love
Your wondrous love
Those who love You wanna do

As long as we live, let us do something so big for You

In the blood

2009-01-12T15:43:00.000-05:00

I've been frustrated lately with my writing abilities. It's hard to grow as an author when the spare moments and especially childrenless moments are rare. Take this moment for instance. There are children leaning against my lap, children trying to talk to their cousins via IM on the same computer I am using, and a baby in her crib screeching as she attempts to get my attention.

I don't wish them away, of course. They are my life, my heart. They are my greatest masterpiece, though I am hardly the artist. But I do wish I could find some time to write on a deeper level.

I have been re-reading one of my favorite books - Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. It's more than a story, more than a romance, it's as if she took the book of Hosea and set it in a more relatable time period and put a microscope over it. It's inspiring, it's beautiful, it's shocking, it's heart-wrenching. It's intimidating. Why should I try to tell a story when I can't do it that way? When I can't piece together the words like she does, making them flow together like poetry?

I know why, of course. Because you don't become an author such as Francine Rivers without practicing. A LOT. Without learning how to cut yourself open and bleed all over the keyboard until it's right. I know that I hold back in my writing. I tend toward making myself look good rather than being honest, and I do it without noticing it or meaning to do it. A habit I need to learn how to break. A scary habit to break!

So I guess I'll keep plugging on. What else can I do? It's in my blood. I just need to learn how to get that blood into my words.

Mary's Silent Night

2008-12-18T01:06:00.000-05:00

Promises so ancient that it seems absurd they’d all come true

Especially on this night, this way, especially in the form of you

Tiny fingers, tiny head
Tiny voice for all you’ve said
Could God be in my arms tonight
Caught in the glow of a bright starlight?

Why would you come by quiet night?
And not with trumpets in broad daylight
With a thousand armies bowing down
A thousand kings with offered crown
Instead of a sleepy little town?

Tears fall from my cheeks to yours
As my eyes behold your stable birth
Could a beginning so humble be more wrong
To dare to speak of your great worth?

Go little one and free them all
Those who scoff and cause you pain
For as I, they have a debt they cannot pay
We surely cannot ever be the same…

For you are here. Little Promised One, you’ve come.
Come to make our world your home.
Come to break the chains of sin
Come to let the light come in.

The News You Didn't Hear on CNN

2008-12-08T14:40:00.000-05:00

Wouldn't you expect an hateful attack that rendered 70,000 people homeless, 4,000 homes destroyed, 3,000 people missing, and 77 brutally murdered to be told on every newscast in America?

It happened. Christians in Orissa, India are withstanding an extreme persecution that the media has decided no one needs to know about. I entered "Orissa" into my search engine and came up with three obscure articles about Christians protesting that did not mention any of these statistics that you can verify at www.persecution.com (copy and paste into your browser, Blogger doesn't seem to want to add links today.)

How did I find out? My pastor mentioned the problems from the pulpit recently, having been raised by missionaries in India. He did not go into any detail, only said we should pray. When I received the VOM newsletter in the mail, the name caught my eye. I was astonished and heartbroken for these families that are suffering such hatred and violence while we safely go about our Christmas shopping on the other side of the world.

These are our brothers and sisters in Christ. Though they speak a different language, though they have a different skin color and wear different clothes, they are more than blood family to us, if we are a part of the Body of Christ. These are the dear people we will spend eternity with. They are just like us. They have little ones and babies to protect, they have jobs and homes and lives they are trying to live.

They have one thing we don't. Courage that has been tested by the fires of persecution. They have looked at all of their loved ones and belongings and church buildings and decided "Jesus means more."

Our response? Certainly we should be humbled and convicted by their faith. We should be reminded that our comfortable little lives we are so fond of do not come with guarantees this side of heaven. We may face the same cross of sacrifice at any moment.

Most importantly, we should pray. Our hearts should be broken, our tears should fall, and we should beg God to continue to be their strength and joy.

Make it a point to visit the website today and force yourself to look at what none of us want to think about.

After all, they're family.

If you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name. 1 Peter 4:16

While We Were Sleeping

2008-12-02T00:08:00.002-05:00

I don’t remember another time when I was so unable to sleep. The moon was high overhead and my family was piled in cots and mats around the room, the sound of their snoring the only sound touching my ears that night. Or was it? I slipped from beneath the warm arm of my husband and headed to the window. The night was quiet, the sky full of stars. I looked up into the vast expanse, quite shocked to realize that the brightness flooding the window was not the moon, but a star. I had never seen such a light in the night star before. Something deep within told me I would never see it again. It seemed to cast its brilliant light right over the heart of Bethlehem.

That’s when I heard what had awakened me. A baby’s cry. I knew the sound well. I hesitated, looking back to check on my own little ones as they slept on, then I pulled my heavy cloak around me, gathered a few supplies from my store, and headed down the road to follow the tiny cry.

As I walked, I tried to imagine what little one would be making an appearance. There were no babies due this month. I would have known, I was the town’s only midwife. I remembered then that there were quite a few visitors due to the Roman taxation. Every house was filled to overflowing. It must be one of those weary travelers giving birth this night. My pace quickened.

The sound led me not to a house but to a cave, cut out of the rock to provide shelter for animals. Surely no baby was entering the world in a cold and dark place such as this. My heart went out to whoever the unfortunate family must be.

But the cave wasn’t so dark. The light from that star above just happened to shine through the doorway, as if Yahweh Himself had ordered such an illumination on just such a place. I pushed my way through the animals, huddled together trying to keep warm, and came upon the little family just beyond the animals, resting in the hay. A tiny babe was lying upon the hay in the manger screaming his little heart out as a frightened father tried to tend to an exhausted mother. My expert eyes quickly noticed that there was too much blood. This woman needed my help.

“I’m a midwife.” I found my voice, hurrying to her and gently pushing the young man out of the way. “Hold the baby close to keep him warm. Wrap him in these.” I handed him some cloths I had grabbed from my supply.

“Grave clothes?”

“They are all I had. But they’ll keep him warm. Wrap him snugly then hold him inside your cloak.”

I turned my attention back to the baby’s mother. She gave me a grateful glance before she succumbed to her fatigue as I began to massage her abdomen to release the afterbirth. I managed the bleeding as best I could with the herbs and preparations I had on hand, offering a prayer that Yahweh might spare her life. When she seemed to be doing better, I reached again for the child, unwrapping him to wash him clean and rub oil and salt on his baby soft skin. He was a bit on the small side; I assumed that they had not been expecting him to come so early. But he seemed healthy with a hearty cry and wide, alert eyes, peering from their darkness to observe me so closely I almost felt that he could see within my heart.

“You’ve a special boy here.” I smiled at the parents, finding myself almost unwilling to hand the child back to his mother to nurse. She was tired, but I assured her that the nursing would hasten her healing. The child quickly began to eat, as if he wished to spare his mother further suffering as a result of his birth.

“He is special.” The father said softly. “He’s the Messiah.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that statement from a proud mama or abba. But the way he spoke it, as if he realized the great weight resting on his shoulders for the responsibility, I almost found myself believing it might be true. I smiled at him.

“I hope you’re right.”

After a few moments of silence, I spoke again. “What will his name be?”

“Jesus.” It was the mother who spoke now. Her husband nodded in agreement.

“Jesus. I have a Jesus myself. Good name. Means ‘savior.’”

“Yes it does.” The man nodded once more.

When I was sure that the mama and baby would make it through the night, I slipped away and left the new family to get to know one another. As I made my way back up the hill to my home, I was struck by the odd way the boy had come into the world. Could a child have a more humble birth? Who would expect a tiny child of a poor family from the north who had been born in a stable, of all things – to be the Messiah that would save his people? Certainly not I.

But the Scriptures said that the one we should look for would come from Bethlehem. There wasn’t a soul that resided here that didn’t know that for a fact.

Maybe Yahweh had sent him quietly into the world, while we were sleeping. Maybe that’s the way He had always intended that he should come.

2:46 am. I was wide awake. In concession, I pulled back the covers and stepped into my slippers, pulling my robe around me as I walked to the window. My spirit was restless. Something was about to happen. I could sense it in the silence.

I lifted the blind and peered out onto the dark street, lit only with porch lights from homes that had remembered to turn them on to detract crime, which seemed to happen more often. My gaze drifted to the sky. The stars shone more brightly than I had ever remembered seeing them in the city. They seemed to twinkle with excitement.

On a whim, I gathered my sleeping children around me and my husband in our bed. I left the shade open and looked out into the night sky, waiting. Hoping. Dreaming that this ordinary December morning might be the day of all days. Faith becoming sight in the form of the one I had loved for a lifetime yet not seen. Yet. The darker the world became, the more I longed for him. The more I looked for him. “Be alert.” Was his admonition. “Watch. I am coming soon!”

So I watched. And just as my eyes began to close again in sleepiness, a sound crashed through the darkness and caused me to sit up straight and look. A shout. A gleeful, excited, powerful and beautiful voice called, the sound so loud and so completely evident that surely there wasn’t a soul on the planet that hadn’t heard it. My husband and children were jolted awake, and I smiled knowingly at my husband.

“It’s time?” he laughed groggily. “Can it be?”

“Jesus!” my oldest child pointed out the window. “I hear trumpets!”

We all ran downstairs and threw open the front door. I ran to the hutch to pull out my letters that I had kept there, ready at a moment’s notice. I put them on the table in full view of the door and followed my family out into the driveway. As we looked up, thousands of shouts and laughter filled the sky as the first glimpse of a somehow familiar face came closer. His beautiful, friendly eyes were smiling as he held out his nail-scarred hands to those that happily waited. My own family was dancing around us in complete elation. I noticed sadly that many houses along our street remained dark. It was as if they could not hear a thing.

A moment later we were sailing through the air at what must have been light speed. And then we were with him. No more pain. No more struggle. No more. Now, there was only Jesus. Only and forever our Savior, who had come while the world was sleeping.

And the morning dawn found them in a fog of disaster and panic. We saw, from afar, nestled safely in the embrace of the Savior, who had rescued us from the immense trouble brewing just on the horizon. He had not forgotten us. We prayed for those loved ones we had left behind, that when Jesus returned for the third time, they would not be found sleeping anymore.

Georgianna's Medicine

2008-11-21T15:30:00.000-05:00

Meet my great-great grandma and grandpa, Joseph and Georgianna Gilbert. Hearty pioneer souls. There's nothing dainty or delicate about these people, as you can see by their picture.

But one accidental ingestion of too much carbolic acid was the undoing of Grandma Gilbert. (You can read her story on my dad's website... http://www.tmpministries.com/GeorgiannaGilbert.htm .)

So what's my point?

I've been thinking about substances and chemicals lately. I was never much of a chemistry fan, but I recently read an excellent book by Ginger Garrett entitled "Beauty Secrets of the Bible." The name or size of this book doesn't do it justice. It was thought-provoking and lifestyle-changing for me. (You can check Ginger Garrett out on her website... http://www.gingergarrett.com/ .)

I've started to come to the conclusion that the less man-derived and synthetic products I clean with, ingest or put on my skin, the better I look, feel, and function. It seems that God's way really is the best way, at least in my personal experience. You'll have to try these things for yourself if you don't believe me.

Guys, don't check out yet. I happen to know that you suffer from dry skin and chapped lips and hair dilemmas just like the women. I'll go there first.

Would you be willing to accept the possibility that the lotion you slather all over yourself everyday in the hope it will make your skin more soft and less irritated is really making your skin worse, even if it seems to help temporarily? I have tried this for two weeks before I recommend it to you, and it really works! The answer? Olive oil. Just use olive oil instead of lotion or chapstick. (A little goes a long way, start with 2 or 3 drops!)

Ok, guys, you're free to go. Women, here are some replacements for those costly diet, beauty and cleaning products! Cheaper, far less harmful, and no chance of pulling a Georgianna! (Keep in mind that it would be hard to go completely natural in this culture. Don't give up if you can't go all the way. Any small changes you can make, you will see the results.)

(These tips come from my own research as well as "Beauty Secrets from the Bible.")

Diet

Your skin and your body were not designed for synthetics. They crave the goodness that only God's creation can provide. Dieting using the latest fad will only leave you miserable, even if you manage to lose weight. God made you to enjoy His world. Don't limit yourself when it comes to HIS foods. Give up the processed junk food, and feast on whole foods such as nuts, whole grains, organic, natural meat and eggs, and lots and lots of vegetables and fruits. If God made it, it is for you to enjoy. Eat when your stomach growls. Stop eating when you don't feel hungry anymore. And help those who are hungry. These are the only rules you will need to achieve the healthy look God had in mind when He made you. (I am looking forward to seeing God work this miracle on me as I go forward!) Remember as well to exercise. God's plan for us does not involve idleness. My workout plan right now is to keep my house clean and my children entertained. When I stop getting out of breath doing these things every day, I might have to try the gym!

Skin care

Your body absorbs whatever you put on your skin. If you put harmful things on it, it will suffer. If you put good, God-created things on it, you will benefit inside and out. My morning and evening regime consists of three things: honey (Seriously, try it! When you mix honey with water on your face it will not be sticky,) a couple drops of olive oil, and the coconut rosemary sugar scrub from "Beauty Secrets."

I've also switched my makeup to mineral products. They aren't that much more expensive, and they last longer and look better.

Hair care

Right now I use a natural lavender shampoo and conditioner I bought at my local Whole Foods Market (WONDERFUL place!) I also employ the use of coconut oil as a conditioning treatment once in a while, and if I need a clarifying rinse, I found a great recipe using apple cider vinegar, rosemary and lavender oil. (Send me an email and I'll send you the links to any of these.) I've also discovered that a mixture of chamomile and lemon juice with the aid of a blow dryer will lighten your hair (if you are a blond, there are other recipes for dark or red hair.)

House Cleaning

When I started to switch over to natural products, I was shocked how expensive these products could be. Fortunately, I've recently discovered that a big bottle of vinegar ($1.18 at Walmart) and a big box or two of baking soda ($1.28 at Walmart) will clean ANYTHING. I use it most frequently in the kitchen, where a 1 part vinegar to 2 part water in a spray bottle has become my disinfectant cleaner. If the smell bothers you, I added just a hint of myrrh (put a couple drops of essential oil in the sprayer and then rinse it out before you make your cleaner) and found that it was easier on the olfactory senses. Baking soda on your carpet gives you a deeper clean when you vacuum. These products together will get that bathroom or kitchen looking sparkly and smelling fresh. You can even clean your pets with these products, no bath required!

So if God has been nudging you lately about His desire for you to make some changes in these areas, here is my humble advice in getting started. Have fun!

Getting to the Bottom of Things

2008-11-07T15:28:00.001-05:00

I have been convicted in the past few days of my own conclusions regarding our next president. I have been ashamed of the way some of my fellow believers have acted towards him and towards anyone associated with him. Last night I decided it was time to discover the truth -to wade through the rumors and stories and find out what the facts state, and what Mr. Obama himself says about God.

The first thing I will state is that what I found had little to do with the childish accusations that have been made about him. There is no evidence that he is supportive of terrorism. This rumor was fabricated because his father was raised in a Muslim setting, and because he attended a Muslim school for a time. I was also under the impression that he was an atheist. He in fact calls himself a Christian, having had "Christ wash away his sins" at Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago when he was in his twenties.

I also had received the impression from his opposition that he was a heartless and cold supporter of abortion. In fact, his explanation for why he votes pro-life is this: that he himself is opposed to it, but that he trusts that a mother has the right to make that choice for herself and her child, and that it is his intent to lower the number of abortions. While I myself could never vote to allow another person to end the life of their child, I can see how one might arrive at that conclusion. I even agree that the lives that are cut short through this avenue will not be saved because the action is made illegal. Women have found ways to rid themselves of unwanted pregnancies for thousands of years. What is needed at the most basic level is those who are willing to love hurting or scared women out of their most desperate situations.

In my research I found from many sources, including his own website, that Barack Obama considers himself a follower of Christ. He seems to be a devoted father and husband, and asks prayer on a regular basis for his family. He seems to care above and beyond what is normal for those that suffer. Though his father was an atheist and his mother an agnostic, he claims that he believes in a God, in sin, in hell, and in Christ. It's when you dig a little deeper that things start to look a little less pristine. But I will allow you to judge for yourself. Below is the research I was able to gather:

Barack Obama

- says he received Christ. Yet shows a lack of respect for the Bible, or at least an ignorance.

- says homosexuality is not immoral, and any belief otherwise on his part is a result of biases he was taught. But God's Word clearly states that it is sin. (Again, though, my approach to this would be the same as abortion - legislature is not going to prevent people from sin, the love of Christ and His changing power in lives can.) This being said, Obama was not willing to go on record in agreement with the Bible.

- has mocked the standards God held the Israelites to in Deuteronomy.

- claims that religion should not divide (direct opposition to Christ’s statement)

- has consistently voted for abortion to be legal and (I’m pretty sure) paid by taxes. Has also voted that botched abortion babies not be allowed to live. (His answer to this was that there was a technicality he did not approve of.) Has no interest in teaching young people to abstain from intimacy outside of marriage as the Bible teaches. (Yes, I know, who would be popular touting these ideas? But for a person to call themselves a follower of Christ and not be willing to accept all of His teachings says something.)

- freely compares his own religious experience as equal with those of all other religions. Jesus says "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."

- says that evangelicals have exploited and politicized religious beliefs in an effort to sow division. Does not allow accounting for the areas of the Bible that clearly require such division, nor that this country was founded on Biblical principles. Basically seems to say that evangelicals have no place in politics. (Which may be a good point if this new America is to be, but why is it coming from a man claiming to be a follower of Christ?) I must make one caveat here. I think that it is time for "evangelicals" to cease the fight to make our country what it once was and "reclaim" it for our own interests and agendas. Jesus did not put himself in politics, I think we would better honor His name by living as he told us to, by loving him and loving others, by spreading the good news with a humble and sincere heart. We have been quite belligerent about this country belonging to us. Would Jesus do the same?

- makes excuses for his years of absence from church, such as “squirmy children.” In other interviews or statements claims he attends church regularly. It cannot be both.

- “I leave open the possibility that I’m entirely wrong.” What true follower of Christ who has known the sweet assurance of the Holy Spirit could utter this statement?

- “I do not believe my mother went to hell.” Though his mother declined to accept Christ. Though it is a hard thing for any of us to picture loved ones in hell, if Christ is the only way, we cannot presume to more than God.

- His decision to “receive Christ” seems to have come more from a desire to fit into a social group, because of his tumultuous childhood. He does seem to admit himself to be a sinner.

Now that I have pointed out inconsistencies with his character, I would like to take it a step further and explore the possibility that what we are seeing may be an indication of end times. I'm not saying that it is, obviously Christ said we won't know the day. But he did say to watch. He did say to be alert. So with this shift in our nation and even our world, what if the cavalcade of events that Revelation and other sources prepare us for is on the verge of coming true? Here are my thoughts.

How could this believer in loving God and others become the “beast” referred to in Revelation? Maybe he couldn’t. But could he easily be convinced to follow such a regime, and even be paving the way for the Antichrist to enter the scene? Other possibility – all of his religious ramblings may be just that, cleverly devised stories to garner sympathy and relation to people of faith. Who knows whether power might convince him that he himself is in fact a god to be worshiped? The Bible says that the Antichrist will enter the scene as a proponent of global peace and security. He will make a pact with Israel to protect them. The whole world will follow and believe this man is divine, especially when he seems to have some sort of fatal wound that is healed.

It’s not such a leap as it first seems to be. Upon first entering the pages of history, the beast will not yet be controlled by Satan. That is what would seem to make his rise to power so easy – the subtlety of the Father of Lies.

It’s interesting to note that Obama is a supporter of capital punishment for “heinous crimes.” Why? It's unusual for such a liberal. It's also a big part of the Antichrist's regime. (The crime being following Christ and obeying His Word.)

Obama seems to have religious beliefs that are focused (at the expense of biblical accuracy) on global unity. There will be a worldwide religion overseen by the false prophet at the ordination of the beast.

Other interesting notes: At the convention, Oprah’s introduced Obama as “the one.” As well there was the response of weeping, euphoric, giddy crowds at his victory. I think as well of the “nine” world leaders offering congratulations. (See Revelation.)

So these are my thoughts. You may take them or leave them. My parents tell me that I'm too young to remember all the other times everyone was sure it was time for these events to transpire. But I won't apologize for being excited about seeing Jesus in the flesh.

And I'm not at all saying that Barack Obama is the Antichrist or even that he is not who he says he is. Only God can judge the heart. Another great article to read on the subject of his imminent administration: http://www.tmpministries.com/Election2008.htm

Whether or not I'm just a dreamer, my prayer today is the same as it's always been. Come soon, Lord. And until then, let us reflect you, no matter what it costs.

The picture belongs to my dad.

He Who Will Save Us

2008-11-05T14:45:00.000-05:00

O LORD, be gracious to us; we long for you.
Be our strength every morning, our salvation in time of distress.

For the LORD is our judge, the LORD is our lawgiver,
the LORD is our king; it is he who will save us.

- Isaiah 33

As everyone else's seem to be, my thoughts are on the outcome of the election. I've been watching with interest at the differing reactions. There are the usual emotions of disappointment or satisfaction, depending on the desired outcome of the voter. There was the gracious speech by Senator McCain, and the tears shining in the eyes of Governor Palin.

What I found to be alarming were some of the images of hundreds of thousands of people gathered in the night air cheering, sobbing, looking to their newly elected leader as if he were some sort of answer to all the world's problems.

When did we become a country that looked to their leaders to provide for them, rather than depending on the God this nation was built to honor? When did Americans decide that they needed a new savior to take away their financial woes and bring an end to their wars and lead them into a grand new era of change and progress? What human in all of history has been able to accomplish all the grandiose achievements that not only are these people counting on him to deliver, but that he has gone so far as to promise them with his own mouth?

I know I'm too young to remember all the other moments in history that the times spoke of prophesy. I know that President Elect Obama may just be another young and attractive leader that people will fixate on for a time until they realize he's just a man. After all, there have been many like him that have come and gone.

But maybe, just maybe, these times speak of more. Maybe there is a new wind of change blowing. Maybe we have come to a crucial point in history where ancient texts are soon to come alive with faces and names attaching to descriptions and players falling into place on a giant game board called earth as it gears up for the most spectacular battle between good and evil that mankind has ever known.

Jesus said to watch. Be alert. Pay attention to the events that transpire upon the page of history. We have a true King, who has already solved the problems. And maybe if we take our eyes off our own desires and greed and selfishness we might hear his voice calling in the distance.

I am coming soon!

A Boy Without a Tooth

2008-10-23T14:49:00.000-04:00

This is the last picture of my boy with all his teeth.

Yesterday afternoon as I sat nursing my baby and talking to Noah, he fell forward off my bed and caught the corner of the footstool with his left front baby tooth. After an afternoon at urgent care, we found that there was no major damage to his incredibly swollen upper lip and bruised gums and bloody nose. I'm thankful for that. But it bothers me that my little boy will have to spend the next 4 or 5 years without his front tooth. I feel like I should have prevented it from happening. That I'm a bad mom for what happened to him.

I, of course, realize that there is no way to prevent this sort of thing, especially with an extremely active little boy. It's just that these children God put in my care started out with such a clean slate. I didn't want them to mar the beautiful little bodies God gave them. More than that, I wish I could protect their minds and hearts from evil. The older I get, the more I see how this life has broken the people around me. How long can I protect them from the realities of a world full of sin?

I'm also amazed that I was so protected, so sheltered in a cocoon of grace. I was born into a family with a mom and dad who loved Christ more than anything else, who loved each other unconditionally, who sacrificed and labored to send me to a school that taught me about Jesus and gave me friends who were also part of Christian families. I grew to adulthood in a tiny Midwest town in a country where we had absolute freedom to worship God in our little Baptist church. I am aware that I was blessed by God.

Now I am the parent who must depend on prayer, who must do my best to provide these little ones with a shelter as you would shelter a tiny seedling until it is grown into a strong and healthy plant. It is my husband's and my own responsibility to protect them from evil. I don't exactly know how to do that, other than teach them the way and pray without ceasing that they will follow it. So far, they have followed wholeheartedly and without question. It is my deepest prayer and highest goal for them to love Jesus as much and even more when they are grown than they do now with the precious faith of a child.

May we not be weary in well doing. May our country continue to provide a haven of freedom to worship God. (Please, Lord!)

But I also pray that I would be willing to enter the stickiness and the heartache of those I love that were not given such an easy path to the Lord. Who still lack the courage to follow him with their whole heart. May I love as Jesus loved, not only when it is easy, but when it is difficult to do so. Because what would I be, and where would I have ended up if not for his grace in my life? How can I then not be an instrument of that grace in the lives of the people he has placed around me that I might reflect the face of Christ in all his brightness, shining into the darkness of the prisons of despair around me?

I am nothing without Christ. May I never attempt to be.

I wish I was more of a man
Have you ever felt that way
And if I had to tell you the truth
I'm afraid I'd have to say
That after all I've done and failed to do
I feel like less than I was meant to be

And what if I could fix myself
Maybe then I could get free
I could try to be somebody else
Whose much better off than me
But I need to remember this
That it's when I'm at my weakest
I can clearly see

He made the lame walk
And the dumb talk
He opened blinded eyes to see
That the sun rises on His time
Yet He knows our deepest desperate need
And the world waits
While His heart aches
To realize the dream
I wonder what life would be like
If we let Jesus live through you and me

What if you could see yourself
Through another pair of eyes
What if you could hear the truth
Instead of old familiar lies
And what if you could feel inside
The power of the hand
that made the universe
You realize

He made the lame walk
And the dumb talk
He opened blinded eyes to see
That the sun rises on His time
Yet He knows our deepest desperate need
And the world waits
While this heart aches
To realize the dream
I wonder what life would be like
If we let Jesus live through you and me

All our hearts they burn with hate in us
All our lives we've longed for more
So let us lay our lives before the one
Who gave His life for us

He made the lame walk
And the dumb talk
He opened blinded eyes to see
That the sun rises on His time
Yet He knows our deepest desperate need
And the world waits
While this heart aches
To realize the dream
I wonder what life would be like
If we let Jesus live through you and me

-Big Daddy Weave "What Life Would be Like"

9 on the 9th - Things I didn't expect from motherhood

2008-10-09T15:17:00.000-04:00

I'm once again participating in fellow blogger Angela Nazworth's "9 on the 9th." (Read hers, "Becoming Me" link to the left, very funny!)

I have chosen to relay 9 things about motherhood I did not in my wildest dreams expect.

1. The way your stomach looks after having a baby. Never the same. Enjoy your pre-baby tummy while you have it, if you still do. (Or maybe it's just the size of my son that did it.)

2. Peanut butter smudges on the light switches. All of them.

3. The illusive clean carpet or floor. Even if I clean them, as soon as I'm done, the crumbs and debris return. Actually, the same goes for 5 sets of clothes, the dishes, the bathrooms, etc....

4. The complete absence of boredom. I have not been bored for the past 5 years. I kind of miss it.

5. I've forgotten what "quiet" is.

6. Who knew "The Upside Down Show" could be so philosophically stimulating?

7. The boundless and unrelenting energy of a 2 year old boy. It defies nature. There is no explanation.

8. Instead of a chorus of gratitude and appreciation for my slaving over a hot stove, I get to hear things like "I don't like this" "I'm not eating this" or the ever popular and heartfelt "We're having this AGAIN?"

9. Who knew that sacrificing your life, your body, your time, your energy and just about everything else you once held dear could be so undeniably rewarding?

Have something to share? Come up with your own 9 on the 9th and link to Angela's site.

Where the Music Came From

2008-10-05T23:33:00.000-04:00

With the notes of August's rhapsody still ringing in my mind, I come to write, because it is my release.

I just saw the movie, August Rush, finally. I've been wanting to see it since the first time I saw it advertised, but life was the obstacle and I missed it. I'm not sure why it didn't do well. I wasn't prepared for it, because I had thought it must not be that good. No one else seemed to notice it.

I'm not sure why the things that resonate so explicitly in my brain seem to bore everyone else. But whatever the reason, I found the story of August Rush to be an exhilarating adventure, played as a symphony from the first word to the final scene, building and deepening and rising and falling with perfect rhythm and sequence so that I felt as if I had heard a work of art in music, not seen a forgotten movie from months ago.

But then, the music is in me too. I knew what August was talking about. I am not the prodigy, but I know the power and the language of music. I can feel music in the wind, on a busy street, in the laughter of my children, in the cadence of the rain and thunder and the chorus of the crickets on a summer night. When I listen to music, whatever its form, I can hear the heart of the composer.

I suppose I should explain the picture. If you look closely, you'll notice that I am standing to the right of a conductor. That is my college professor, Dr. Stewart, whom we all called "Doc." He was leading our college chorale in an impromptu concert in a busy Roman restaurant during our concert tour to Italy in 1995. I don't know how I came to be in possession of this photo. But I love it. It reminds me of a time when the music was alive in me. Not just alive. On fire within me. Burning with a passion to communicate the hope and the life I had found in knowing Christ. I could have taken a different route, and followed that music to the ends of the earth, just like August, as he was looking for his parents.

Life intervened, and I fell in love. Got married, had children. Music is still a part of my life. I'm trying to teach my five year old the basics, and nagging her to practice. I sing in the choir every week. Once in awhile I even sing a solo in church. But this movie reminded me that I miss the music being alive within me, giving music to my fingers on the piano or my soul echoing through my vocal chords to sing what had previously not existed in all of music.

My old out of tune piano will have to suffice, though I'd give almost anything at this moment for the soft, cool keys of a baby grand in a concert hall, with that sharp tone of perfect pitch in each strike of the keys. I'd certainly love to regain that voice I was working on back in college before life stepped in and distracted me.

Maybe it's not about losing the music when life begins. Maybe it's about passing the music on. And maybe, if I try hard enough and long enough, I can ignite that fire again within me, and set aflame my children with the sound of their own song that lays buried within their being.

After all, wasn't my own song coaxed out by my Grammy, who gave me her ear for music, passed along through my dad, and my mom, who made me practice and take music seriously, and good old Doc, who gave me a voice in a land across the sea where my heart changed forever?
And how could I not mention my Creator, who placed in my soul each note, every song I've ever had the privilege of singing? For that's truly where the music came from.

May my praise echo back to Him in some form that may give Him glory, for He is the author and conductor of my symphony.

The Way

2008-09-24T15:21:00.001-04:00

"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except by me." - John 14:6

I thought we had gotten a good start on the day. I had the kids dressed, fed and we were heading out the door for a quick run to the library before homeschool. A knock on the door sent the children and the dog into the usual mayhem of screaming and barking and running to the window to see who was there. Something made me hesitate to open that door. But something also urged me to do so, when so often I don't answer without my husband being home or knowing for sure who it is. I made the decision, and opened it.

I could feel the cold rush of evil on the wings of the warm September morning breeze. An older man, who appeared harmless, stood holding an open Bible. A younger woman next to him smiled and began a rehearsed introduction. I prayed they were stopping by to tell people the Good News. But I knew they weren't. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw the literature she was holding.

I felt the Lord offering me a choice. I looked at my three children, thought of the things that we had to get done, and I knew I had more than enough excuse to close the door. And when it comes to cultists, I don't think God ever asks us to defend our faith without first being armed for the battle. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. But even as I considered it, I looked at them, standing there expectantly, hoping to recruit me into their religion of lies and false teaching. They thought it was truth. They thought they had figured out where the Bible went wrong and had been sucked into the schemes of the evil one. Just as I could never leave for dead someone sinking into quicksand, even if they weren't calling for help but willingly sinking deeper, even hastening their own demise, I couldn't shut the door in their face without at least attempting to turn their eyes to Jesus.

I opened the door. "Help, me, Lord. Show me what to say." I prayed silently as I invited them to step in and went for my Bible. They were friendly people. They smiled at the kids and talked amiably as they asked me questions about what I believed about the Kingdom of Heaven and certain passages of Revelation. He tried to convince me that death was an end with nothing beyond except for a few lucky chosen ones. I said that for me, as one who has been forgiven by the work of Christ by my repentance and belief, "to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." I asked him what he would tell God if God asked him why he should be allowed into heaven. He said God would not ask him that. It felt much like a sword fight, though for my part I was calm, and he became more and more agitated, shifting his feet and looking around and finally looking over his shoulder at the doorknob. I kept trying to say "You believe you can't be certain whether you will cease to exist or God will save you. I believe and know that Jesus is my Savior, and my eternity is secure in what He did for me. Why would I want to trade what I have for what you don't have?" The woman, who was his daughter, stared at him somewhat dumbfounded as he began to falter.

"People don't usually ask us these questions." she admitted. Her father made a few more passes with his "sword" and put his hand to the door, telling his daughter something about "this not going anywhere." Maybe it was my imagination, but she looked a little uncertain, like they should be able to stand up against my arguments if I was willing to talk to them. I looked her straight in the eye as she was leaving.

"Keep seeking. The Bible promises that seekers will find the truth. I'll be praying for you today."

With a deep sigh, I closed the door. The coldness was gone. But my heart was heavy. Why do people always feel the need to add to God's truth, and thereby make it invalid? Why isn't the Bible enough? Is it such an insurmountable obstacle to put your trust in what He has done instead of trying in vain to make up your own truth and secure an eternity of regret?

God spoke soothingly to me as Hannah, Noah and I later read from Dangerous Journey, which is an adaptation of Pilgrim's Progress. It was the end of Christian's journey, and the celestial city was in sight. Ignorance followed behind them up the hill, confident that he wouldn't need the parchment to enter the city, but that God would let him in without proof that he belonged there.

Then, as the pilgrims neared the Gate, the whole of the Heavenly Host must have known of their arrival. For they were greeted by the King's own Trumpeters, who made all Heaven echo with their sound.

But when Ignorance knocked to be admitted, the men above the Gate looked down on him and said: "Where is your parchment-roll, my friend, to prove that you have come by the right road?"

He fumbled in his coat, but having nothing - as we know - stood silent underneath their gaze, then sorrowfully turned back. That was the last we saw of Ignorance.

The pilgrims, on the other hand, both had their parchments ready, and a voice cried out: "These pilgrims now are come from the City of Destruction for the love they bear to the King of this place!"

So the gates of Heaven opened to them, and they entered in.

("Dangerous Journey" written by Oliver Hunkin, 1985.)

He Will Come

2008-09-21T22:18:00.000-04:00

When the wind began to blow, for a moment I feared. I feared that you wouldn't hear, you wouldn't know that we needed your help, that in this evil and dark world there were those that loved you and needed your protection from the storm.

Then I remembered. I remembered all the times you've shown me your faithfulness. I remembered as a child when our cupboard was empty, you sent messengers of hope with boxes of food, bags full of clothes. Right on time.

I recalled the time the car had broken down and waiting in the mailbox - right on time - was just enough money to cover the repairs. My mind returned to the place where I sat on the bathroom floor of my college dorm and cried out in loneliness, and you were there. Right on time.

Replayed within were later images of a struggle with my body to conceive a child. Such lamenting and hoping and weeping with disappointment. I thought you must not care this time, for the timing seemed far from right. But there you were again. Just on time. Just on time again. Just on time a third time, with a precious baby once again filling my arms and my heart though my body had insisted I should not ever hear a sweet voice call me "Mommy."

Most of all, when I was miserably and hopelessly lost in my own sin and guilt and sorrow, you were there. You hung your only Son on a cross for me. You told me that all was not lost. You asked me to believe you, to follow you, and I would see your love manifested in me and through me.... and I did. Over and over I saw how you changed me, how you resurrected an ugly dead heart and made it holy. How you caught me back from an eternity of suffering and held me fast in your arms, and I could hear your heart beating with the rhythm of your extreme affection and compassion. As the sound grew louder in my ears, I began to realize that my heart was beating in time with yours. I had become a part of you, and I could see the image of your risen Son as I looked in the mirror, instead of the troubled and dark face of one who had lost the way.

I know that your heart still beats in time for the lost ones wandering, not sure of anything, not sure how to sort out the problems and messes that sin has left in its wake just as the mess of trees and power lines after the storm blew through. It's too big a job. Despair is starting to set in. But you are there. And my heart beating in time with yours will seek them out, will point their desperate hearts to the Savior.

And He will come.

If what you thought was the truth is a lie
And what you fought to keep on breathing has died
You face the lonely nights and wrestle with the dark
And you reach to find the love to fill the space inside your heart

It's hard to put it into words the way you feel
It's an ache and emptiness that lingers still
Are you a victim of the past without a trace of hope in sight?
And it all goes by so fast without a way to make it right
If you worry, don't worry

God will come and wrap His arms around you
It wouldn't be too much
For Him to love you as He found you
And it may seem like you're too far gone
But He loves you like His only Son
And He will come
He will come

From the bounty of a river there's a flow
And from the beauty of the Father's heart's a home
That never leaves you empty no, and never leaves you bare
So come and bring your guilt and shame
Come and leave it there
If you're willing, He is willing
Oh, you don't have to be worthy
You don't have to be anything but willing to fall into His arms
Willing to fall into His arms....

(written by Cindy Morgan, performed by Mandisa)

Yes, My Name's Written There

2008-09-10T21:58:00.001-04:00

Tonight Hannah and I ended up watching a Billy Graham special about his wife, Ruth, who died recently. It was supposed to be a tribute to her, but it quite obviously ended up being a tribute to Jesus as the family spoke of her commitment to raising them to love Christ, and her endurance through trials of pain and illness that only made her stronger in her faith. It was very encouraging as a mother to see the passion she had for her children and her husband. May God set that fire ablaze in my own heart each day.

At one point Billy's son Franklin Graham said that his mother was now in heaven because of her trust in Christ. He asked "Do you know, if you died today, that you'd go to heaven?" My four year old daughter's face lit up and she exclaimed "Yes!" with all the gusto she could muster. I asked her why she knew that for sure. She said "Because Jesus forgave my sins and wrote my name in the Lamb's Book of Life."

Her response was a relief, an answer to prayer, as today I've been wondering if I'm really making the kind of impact a woman like Ruth Bell Graham made in her children's lives. Will Hannah still respond with such conviction when she flies from the safety of this nest we've built for her? Will Noah? And Talia?

I've always wanted no more than that my children know Christ, love Him, and serve Him passionately with all the fervor and strength He can ignite within them. But am I doing all that I can to see that happen? Am I too focused on keeping the house clean and the laundry folded and meals on the table that I'm missing what's really important?

Thank goodness God is bigger than I am. Thank goodness that all he expects of me is my best, and he's able to do the rest.

And whatever he's doing seems to be working.

Answer to challenge... 9 on the 9th

2008-09-09T21:57:00.000-04:00

My fellow blogger and writer Angela Nazworth challenged her readers to answer her blog with their own list of nine things on the 9th of September. Her subject was homeschooling, and as that is foremost in my mind as well at the moment, I'll stick with the topic.

My nine favorite things about homeschooling are:

1. I don't have to give up my baby for hours upon hours of each precious day. I'd miss her too much.

2. There's no wasted time. We can pack a lot of learning into 2 or 3 hours that she'd never be able to get through in 6 or 7 hours of traditional school.

3. I like being a teacher. It didn't occur to me that I would, but I really do enjoy it.

4. I'm learning too! I'm keeping my mind sharp by being reminded of the basics and learning new things along with my kindergartner.

5. Everything can be tailored directly to your child. With so many resources, you can follow their interests and let the passions of their heart lead you in amazing new directions.

6. Having a schedule and living to learn keeps us out and about and doing new things - something that all of us enjoy.

7. We don't have time to watch tv! :)

8. Not being comfortable with public school, homeschooling is a very economic decision. It means we have time and money for extras like soccer and art classes, and many, many field trips!

9. Did I mention how much I'd miss my girl if I had to send her off to school?

Got 9 things on the 9th to tell the world about? Visit "Becoming Me" (link at the left) and add on your own link!

Best Time of Life

2008-09-06T22:28:00.000-04:00

I was herding my little brood through the grocery store this week when a elderly woman stopped me to ooh and ah over my children. I'm used to it. Having a 3 month old baby girl with big blue eyes is enough to catch almost anyone's attention. But something the woman said stuck with me. With a wistful look in her eye, she said "Enjoy it. It's the best time of life."

I agree that it is a wonderful time of life. I can't get enough kisses and hear enough childish laughter. I'm delighted to spend my days with three little blessings from God. And I am not looking forward to the day when they leave me and go into the world to do what God created them to do. I must confess I don't know what I'd do if I were dropping my five year old off at kindergarten instead of teaching her at home. I would miss her tremendously during the day.

But all this being said, I sure am tired. And even though some days are all sunshine and smiles, some days I secretly will bedtime to come. And some days, I just plain feel like a prisoner in my home, yearning for that writer's conference I am not going to make it to anytime soon, thinking about that leisurely stroll in the woods for inspiration that is just not going to happen without a stroller and insect repellant times four and an awful lot of whining.

So I'm thankful that a dear old lady whose name I don't even know warned me of the precious little time I really have. Today I'm counting my days more carefully because of her thoughtful reminder.

Iron Mixed with Clay

2008-09-05T14:32:00.000-04:00

… Just as you saw that the feet and toes were partly of baked clay and partly of iron, so this will be a divided kingdom; yet it will have some of the strength of iron in it, even as you saw iron mixed with clay. As the toes were partly iron and partly clay, so this kingdom will be partly strong and partly brittle. And just as you saw the iron mixed with baked clay, so the people will be a mixture and will not remain united any more than iron mixes with clay. – The prophet Daniel, around 530 years B.C.

Amazing that a prophet over 2500 years ago could peg this country, this age – in such an exact way. This country, though founded with honorable intentions of freedom for all, has had numerous problems with division. Abraham Lincoln quoted the Bible as he stated that a house divided against itself cannot stand. Our people made it through that great conflict we call the Civil War only to find ourselves in our present predicament, a country slashed straight down the middle in ideals and goals.

I don’t like to get too involved in politics. I don’t like the anger it invokes, the emotions it raises, and the false sincerity that many of its players display. You’ll rarely find me saying anything about it on this blog or anywhere else I have the privilege of writing.

I must confess, however, that I have been thinking a lot about it in recent months. (How can anyone who ever turns on the tv or goes online not?) I have been listening to the main characters of this story. I don’t agree with everything either one of them stands for. I do agree with both of them on some issues. (Whether I agree or not means little, but I mean that I believe whatever the Bible has to say on any given topic.) That’s why I’ve never pegged myself as either party. But this is the first time that I have felt that one player in the game had evil up his sleeve.

I don’t know what the future of this country will be. The Bible only says that we are the toes in a great statue of kingdoms that started at the head with the Persian domination of King Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel’s time. Toes come last. I believe with great conviction that we are just around the corner from the end of time, from the final war of good and evil.

But that’s not my point today. I’m just wondering what will happen in the next few months or years in this great country that I am proud to be a part of, when all is said and done. I’m wondering what will become of this country if this certain player becomes “king.” For it’s one thing to rationalize prenatal life as inferior to our convenience. I don’t accept it, but I can see how people fall prey to this idea. And I believe the real war against abortion must be fought in our protection and interest in the other victims of this travesty – the women who are lied to and used up in an agenda of radical ideas - not on the political field.

But what of a man who had the presence of mind to vote against protection of the tiny victims of botched abortions? Even when other liberal voices could not stomach the thought of voting to end a little life that survived a first attempt on their life, laying there helpless and struggling on the table, at the complete mercy of those that had sought to destroy them, this man voted that their life should be taken. The thought of him marking that ballot makes me shudder. If he could be so callous with life, breathing and kicking and staring him in the face, what else is he capable of purporting in the office of president?

It has been said that he has a cousin whom he has been supportive of in the past who has used his power to burn the homes and property of those that call themselves Christians. It has been said that while he presents himself as an African American, he is reality under 10 percent so. He has quite blatantly attacked Biblical ideas, twisting Scripture in such a way to mock it and attempt to invalidate it.

This is a man who disturbs me. If I weren’t sure of the victory that Jesus will have upon his imminent return, this man would scare me.

Some food for thought. If you had been thinking of him more positively, I hope you will consider these things carefully. No one in the political realm is perfect, neither has any earthly king ever been. But be wary of the ones that seem to be able to stomach pure evil, and even portray it as good.

Image belongs to my dad, Tom Parsons. You can read about his recent trip out west on his blog, link to your left.

Promises, Promises

2008-08-30T23:27:00.001-04:00

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. – Deuteronomy 6:4-9

Promises, promises.

We all make them. Often flippantly. If we understood how God feels about vows that are broken, how far we stray from his image when we take lightly that which we have said we will do or not do, we would make fewer promises and we would hold to them more relentlessly.

God never breaks his promises. You can be sure that his word is true. So many of his words have already been fulfilled, and a few are left undone, waiting until that perfect time when it will be so.

Tomorrow morning my husband and I will stand before our brothers and sisters with our newborn daughter and make a promise – the same promise we made when her sister and brother were born. We’ll make this promise to the Lord: that we will raise this child to know him. We will give our all to seeing that the Word is planted in her heart as a seed, and we will water and nourish and spend ourselves for that little soul, and when all is said and done we will pray with fervency for her growth into a child of God, and a follower of Christ. We will talk about him when we sit and home and when we walk along the road, when we lie down and when we get up.

If I were counting upon myself or my husband to get all of this done for Talia, I wouldn’t be able to stand up and make this promise with him. I’m so thankful to God that he honors our promises made with trepidation, that he fills us with his spirit and enables us to do what we had no idea how to do in the first place. I’ve seen him working in our family, helping us teach our children who God is and what Jesus has done for them. I’ve seen them begin to respond to his love. I’ve seen my husband and I grow as parents, seeing a greater vision of God’s best for us with each passing year.

So I can happily stand and present this little girl to God, and promise to do with her what is most glorifying to the Lord. I can promise it because I love her, because I love him, and because I know that even when I am at the end of myself and my ability to accomplish anything of value, he’ll do it in me through a power I’ve only begun to understand and recognize.

What promises do you think God might be asking of you today?

Believe it or Not, Part 2

2008-08-27T16:03:00.000-04:00

So I said I would tell my ghost stories in my next entry.

These would probably go over better if we were sitting around a bonfire on a crisp October night roasting marshmallows. But try to imagine the setting and listen to my tales…

I was around 8, and I had some friends over for a sleepover. It was the middle of the night and everyone else had fallen asleep in the back bedroom that I shared with my sister Jenny. Our house was the parsonage of the church next door of which my dad was the pastor. It was an old house, having been a coal miner’s house before it became a parsonage, but it wasn’t scary. I don’t remember ever being bothered by anything upstairs. The old decrepit basement was another story, at least until we had it finished to provide another bedroom. Any time we wanted a good scare we went down there.

But back to my story. It was quiet. I was laying in my sleeping bag staring up at the wall as I tried to fall asleep. My record player was next to me, playing the soundtrack from “Annie.” It was on the song called “We Got Annie.” Suddenly a face appeared in the orange folds of the curtain on the window. I can still recall his face, a man I’d never seen before, with spectacles and a mousy appearance. He wasn’t clear as a person would be, he was transparent, and I only saw his face. He appeared to be staring right at me, but he didn’t speak, and he faded away after a few seconds. I don’t remember feeling scared, just curious. Of course, no one else was awake to corroborate the story. I never saw him again. It is also interesting to note that one of the former pastors had died in the house.

Our old church in Oglesby, Illinois revives many many wonderful memories for me as I grew up. As long as it was filled with people, every room, every corridor and classroom was filled with life and hope. But enter that building by yourself, even during the day but especially after dark – and it was the creepiest place I have ever known.

It was a building from the 30’s, even though the church went back much further. The first building on the site had burned to the ground one night. An old lady named Cynthia who was my Sunday school teacher when I was little lived just a few houses down and recalled that dark night, when the entire neighborhood woke to the eerie sound of the bell from the steeple falling to the ground with a loud clang as the building became ashes.

The new building was a beautiful structure, with high ceilings and a balcony over the auditorium. I spent many an evening in that large room practicing piano – and trying to play loud enough that I wouldn’t hear all the noises around me in the empty hall. There were the explainable pops and gurgles of the old heater, but there were many other sounds as well. Many times I was sure that someone had opened the door and came in, only to find that I was still alone and the door was locked. There was also an old room up in the back of the building that we called “the Upper room.” Many times I was convinced that I heard someone coming down those stairs. No one ever did. I am now 31 years old and I have not lived in Oglesby for 14 years. All my creepiest dreams still take place in that upper room! (It is an interesting note that when the church build a new building in a different location recently, a single woman bought the church to turn it into a residence. I cannot imagine living in that building!)

I must provide a caveat to this story. My mom practiced the piano many nights after we went to bed. I can remember falling asleep to the sound of the piano wafting from the old building next door. She doesn’t remember anything strange ever happening. Nor does my dad who spent many hours in his office alone.

My next story didn’t take place until after I was married, when my husband and I and my sister Kathy and her husband Seth decided to take a trip up to Canada together. We stayed in Goderich, a wonderful little town near the shores of the lake. Our inn was an old house with a lot of character. The last night we stayed there the entertainment downstairs went on till pretty late into the night. Finally things got quiet and we were falling asleep, when suddenly the loud sounds of a dog in the hallway caught our attention. It sounded like a big dog, its claws clicking on the hardwood floor down the corridor to where our room was. It was strange because we hadn’t seen a dog the entire weekend, big or small. Kathy and Seth do not remember hearing the dog. I got down and peered through the crack under the door, and there was nothing there. Nothing. I can’t remember very well, but I believe my husband asked the owner the next morning if they had any dogs, and he said they didn’t.

At the same time, during our first year of marriage, I had some strange things happen in our home. It’s not exactly what you would expect of a haunted house – it is a mass produced Dominion house built in 1987, and it had only one previous owner, a couple that seemed nice enough. But there are two rooms in the house that greatly troubled me when I first moved in – the master bedroom and the bedroom at the end of the hallway, which by the way had a big hole in the door as if someone had kicked it open. One morning after my husband left for work before it was light outside, I woke to the feeling of something sliding across my side. It felt like a belt of some sort. When I sat up and looked, nothing was there. In that room we have had some very strange electrical occurrences as well. My husband is an electrical engineer and could not explain them. One time when his alarm was set to go off for work, and mine was not set at all, MY alarm went off instead and his did not. We have also had other things happen with those clocks, from the music coming on for no reason to having power without being plugged in.

One other thing happened in that house. One evening when Pete was working late I took our dog Ben for a walk. When I got back and was about to unlock and open the front door, I heard someone walking down the stairs. I knew my husband was not home yet, there were no lights on in the house. I was sure someone had broken in, and since I did not know the neighbors yet, I stayed outside for an hour before my husband came home. When he went inside and searched the entire house, he didn’t find a thing out of place, and there was no evidence that anyone had been there. It also bears mention that the light bulb in the light just above the stairs constantly burns out. We replace it extremely often.

Could all these things be my imagination? Of course. I have a vivid imagination and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were due to my nature. But I can only tell you what I saw, what I heard, what I experienced and leave it for you to decide. I don’t claim proof, only experiences that gave me an interest in the unexplained.

And that’s my story.

Believe it or not

2008-08-23T17:01:00.000-04:00

I have a confession to make. I believe in ghosts.

And if we are all to be sincerely honest, there aren’t a lot of people who don’t. But I’m going to be brave and admit it.

This admission comes from the novel I have just begun to write. A ghost story. A ghost story with a message – that God is bigger than we can possibly wrap our minds around and to assume that all we see is all there is significantly sells Him short.

I’ve definitely discovered this truth as I’ve started to research this ethereal subject. The more stories and experiences and yes, even proof, I examine, the more questions I have. The more unsure I am of what I even really believe.

Before I began this project, I was already something of a ghostie. As I recently mentioned, my favorite show growing up was X-files. I like to think about things unexplained, about what everybody scoffs at. But I had my ghostly belief system firmly in place. Seeing an apparition was a time rift. (My sister has a more colorful name for it, ask her if you dare.) Seeing something that happened in another time and place. The theology for this? God is not bound by time. When God sees us, He sees everything that ever happened, everyone that ever lived, every moment of every day of all of existence - all on the same level.

We are so much less powerful, our sphere of reality can only exist inside the time and place He has assigned us. (At least for now!) But due to the imperfect nature of our world, even time can get messed up. So you know that ghost you saw when you were a kid and never told anyone about because you didn’t want to be labeled as crazy? Well, it may have been someone from another time unknowingly peeking in on the present time in the same location. There have also been many reports of the opposite – of people who unknowingly momentarily stepped back into time – becoming the ghost on unsuspecting citizens of the past.

Before the skeptics take aim at my sanity, think about all the proof there is of this phenomena. Pictures taken in old places with lots of history that unexplainably present you with something you can’t explain away – a shadow that shouldn’t be there, a mist that envelopes the smiling face of your loved one, a blurry face of someone you don’t recognize peeking over their shoulder. In the past we blamed this on film and exposure. Now with the rise of digital photography, there aren’t a lot of excuses left.

Next, how else do we explain the noises you blame on your imagination in the middle of the night? How else do we explain the sound of children laughing where there are none, the sound of crying or tapping or bumping of furniture, of footsteps falling heavy upon stairs that are vacant?

Now we move more into conjecture than fact. These things do happen. And I believe a time rift has been all but proven for a good number of these experiences. Why? What makes some events in history so memorable that they must replay over and over again with unrelenting energy? My theory (not just my own, but the one I subscribe to at this moment) is that unrestrained, intense emotional events, whether positive or negative, can leave a sort of imprint on time. Which is why so many ghost stories herald wailing women and murderous crimes and crying children or babies. Which is probably part of the reason why we fear them, even though common sense tells us they will not harm us. I also think that our own intense emotional times might open us up to these strangers who share our experiences. To see what we otherwise would not be able to see.

But since I began this journey into the world of the paranormal, I have let go some of my former assumptions. I used to think that any entity that interacted with us was demonic. And there is plenty of evidence of the dark side of the spirit world manifesting in this way. But if we haven’t been trying to conjure the dead or worship the devil or any sort of activity such as this, and there is an event where a ghostly voice is heard on a recorder answering questions or is seen moving objects or turning electrical devices on and off, what proof is there of evil?

This is where I’ll lose some people. And that’s okay. I’m writing this more to organize my thoughts than to convince the world of the other worlds that exist just out of our realm of vision. When you read my novel, then I’ll convince you. Right now I’m posing possibilities. And what if one of those possibilities is that the dead are able to communicate, once in awhile, with the living? What proof do we the living have of what death is like?

This is where your assumptions, traditions and accepted social ideas kick in. Even as a Christian, you’ve been taught certain passages of the Bible mean certain things. Even more, you’ve been taught to ignore the evidence in the Bible of the other two worlds that exist – of other times, and of the spirit world, both demonic, angelic and Sheol – the realm of the dead.

I first site the passage in I Samuel 28, where Saul asks a witch to conjure up Samuel so he can ask him what to do. Yes, God said not to conjure up the dead. He’s against it. For reasons we don’t need to contemplate, we need to trust Him, and probably have to do with our inability to discern between all the warring entities that are involved in the spirit world. But this passage proves that it CAN be done. Samuel floated up out of the dust and lectured Saul about bothering his rest.

The second story in the Bible to take a good hard look at is the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. Matthew remembers something very interesting about what happened the moment Jesus died. Something we gloss over or ignore. I’ve never heard a preacher mention it in any detail. It seems as Jesus gave up his spirit a whole lot of dead people got up and starting walking around, appearing to people. Was this different than the raising of Lazarus or Jairus’ daughter? I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But it says they “appeared,” it doesn’t say they stuck around long term.

The other is a definition of ghosts that comes to us from Jesus himself, as remembered by someone who reported it to Luke. “Look at my hands and my feet… Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see I have.”

So, Jesus seems to have believed that ghosts were real. In fact, so did all the Jewish people that grew up around the murky, haunted depths of the Sea of Galilee. It was said to be a portal to the world of the dead. Creepy.

My final piece of evidence comes from the exact same verse I’ve heard referenced my entire life to disprove that the dead can interact with the living. It finally hit me recently how illogical the leap really is. The verse is from 2 Corinthians “Absent from the body, present with the Lord.”

Okay, that’s a wonderful thought. And I am of course looking forward to that moment when I am finally with him. But why would this tell us that to die is to completely vacate? Isn’t the Lord here? And why do we have this vision of the afterlife being lightyears above our world? What verse claims that notion?

I do believe that those who are present with the Lord have better things to do with their time than play games with the living. But the sad fact is that not all the dead are with him. They are in holding pattern for a different fate. And they may have plenty of time on their hands, or even as the rich man begged Lazarus, want to warn the living of what is to come.

So that’s what I think so far. I’m not saying how I envision these things is how they are. I’m just saying.

Next time I’ll tell you my personal experiences that made me interested in these things in the first place.

One last thought to leave with you.... why do you think that you've never heard a ghost story featuring someone from the future? If time is imperfect, shouldn't we be seeing the folks with flying cars and vacations to Mars? Daniel and John did in the Bible. Why doesn't anyone anymore?

Think on that a few minutes and see what you come up with.

A Matter of Trust

2008-08-19T00:56:00.000-04:00

My husband would be the first to tell you that I'm a know-it-all. I act like I have every answer to every question, and on plenty of occasions I have given him the impression that there isn't anything that plagues me on a regular basis.

I could say that I'm not a worrier, that I'm just so trusting of God I don't wrestle with anxiety. I could say it, but it would be a lie.

I'm not exempt from worry. I just don't worry about the same things my husband does. In fact, my worry is limited primarily to four people. Pete, Hannah, Noah and Talia.

It may be hormones, having given birth three times in the past five years, but I can make myself physically sick thinking about all the things that could go wrong in the lives of my family members. The last thing I do before I lay my head to the pillow is my nightly rounds, placing my hand on each of them and praying for their safety, health and their relationship with Christ, present and future. There have been times when a health concern in one of their lives tested my faith. There have been times when I've forgotten that God loves them more than I do.

What a welcome thought in a rushing torrent of emotion and fear! That the Lord of all holds each of my dear ones in the palms of His hand, tenderly guiding their steps and protecting their way. That His heart bleeds and pains so much more than even the desperate heart of a wife, a mother. That though He could never be surprised, He is affected by our hurts. He does seek to make our paths straight, and fulfill the desires He's placed so gently and lovingly into our very being.

Life would be a swirling, out of control hurricane of terror were it not for the love of God, shown so perfectly to us through His Son, hanging on a cross, rising from a grave. Life would be impossible if it were random, nonsensical, happenstance. Life is only worth living, worth persevering because of what Jesus did to secure the future.

It all comes to a matter of trust. Will I trust this God who has proven His love so clearly? Will I let Him lead, will I follow carefully the imprint of His feet left along the trail? Will I trust Him enough to keep going, to keep walking, to keep leading my children closer to Him every day we are given?

Can I trust the heart of this Savior, even in such a delicate position as the mother of little ones in a scary world?

I can. I have. I will. Because of who He is, and because of what He's done for me.

Trustworthy. That's what He is to me.

The Problem of Sin

2008-08-02T16:03:00.000-04:00

It's not a popular idea. Never has the concept of sin been so unacceptable in a culture before this day. Never have people tried so relentlessly to claim perfection - to subscribe to the "mostly good" view of humanity.

The problem is that we all know, deep down, whether we admit it or not, that we are sinful. And what does it mean to be sinful? What is sin? Sin is when we miss the mark, when we come up short, when we are incapable of doing what is right 100 percent of the time. And who can claim that they are sinless by that definition? Even if our motive was to continue the rest of our days in perfection, no one would honestly attain to it. We would be quickly betrayed by our own nature. That is why we need police, government, teachers, parents. We need someone in charge, someone or some institution enforcing rules and protecting life. Because without that restraint, we would quickly destroy ourselves.

A good measure of the awareness of sin is to look at another's failure. When you are wronged personally by someone else, you see their sin. You feel the injustice. It is easy to ignore our own tenable character, to justify our intentions and validate our actions. But bear the brunt of someone else's neglect of goodness, and suddenly we are staring sin in the face.

So why do we fight so hard against what we really are? Why are we so determined to prove something a lie that we all know is truth? Is it because to yield to our own helpless state is to give up hope for a better world, a better life, a better outcome once we have completed our days on earth?

God knew that His creation, when given a choice between good and evil, would choose evil. He knew the price for that failure long before he ever set Adam's heart beating. He sent a perfect human form of himself to live among us, to show us what perfection is and what it can accomplish, and then he allowed his only perfect human son to die at the expense of all humanity. An untainted sacrifice was made. Holy life was exchanged as a price for sin, and as a result, the rest of humanity can walk free if they choose to do so.

And we certainly have always had a choice. God is not in the business of controlling our will. He will do what it takes to reach us. He will convince us of our need in the quiet moments of our ponderings. He will show us the answer who hung on the cross, then rose again in victory over death to show us that there is a way for a human being so affected by sin to become spotless, to walk free from our prison, to enjoy immortality and eternal happiness as his grateful offspring. But he won't make that decision for us. He wants us to throw off the burden of our own pride, run into his arms, and never look back at all the darkness we have left behind. He wants us simply to follow him. He will take whatever minute seed of faith that exists in our heart and make it grow - make it flourish into unbelievable beauty.

I have been reading lately in the book of Hosea. Hosea was a prophet who was instructed by God to marry a prostitute. Not only did he ask him to marry her, but to forgive her countless times when she fell back into her old ways. There is a picture I take away from Hosea, one of a righteous man standing in front of an auction block, where his unfaithful wife stands in chains because she has returned to her former ways, returned to the muck that her husband had pulled her out of in the first place. He steps forward. He pays the price for her. He takes her home and loves her, forgives her. Just like Jesus. I’m so glad he was willing to step forward and pay my price. I’m so grateful that I’ve given him my life. And he’s done so much more with it than I ever could have hoped to dream.

Let him do the same for you.

Man's ultimate problem is most definitely our sinful state. Man's ultimate solution is a Savior named Jesus, who loves to save and delights in cleansing a soul. Trust him today with your heavy load of sin. Burdens are lifted at the cross.

“Return… to the Lord your God. Your sins have been your downfall. Take words with you and return to the Lord. Say to him: Forgive all our sins… The ways of the Lord are right; the righteous walk in them, but the rebellious stumble in them.” – From Hosea 14

The Glory of Kings

2008-07-28T14:24:00.000-04:00

“It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings.” Proverbs 25:2

We all have had them. Heroes. Role Models. People whom we never met nor ever will, but nevertheless people who have made an impact on who we were, who we are, and who we will become. The ones that affect us most deeply are the ones who come to us in childhood. To some they are sports figures, reaching and straining toward victory in order to inspire a young mind to never give up. To some they are musicians – singers, band members, who with their music give credence to a young dreamer’s dreams. To some they are great speakers, authors or movie stars.

To me many of them were characters. People who existed only on the page, or the screen, but regardless existed to inspire me with their stories. Anne Shirley, my kindred spirit, who taught me to see the beauty in life even when it is cruel, to press toward dreams and imagination and find a reason to keep getting up each morning. Anna Burenin spoke to me through her amazing courage in the face of poverty and servanthood, that even a peasant woman can become a princess. Maria Von Trapp gave me a song to sing and a hope for love to find me one day. There were others. Elizabeth Delaney, Lou McCloud, Michaela Quinn, Jo March, and so many more, some long forgotten through the years though the mark of their inspiration remained, some that were burned into my memory so deeply that they became part of me.

Two of those characters that became to me almost friends during the formidable years between adolescence and adulthood were Mulder and Scully. Through the experiences of their quest for the truth I learned much about the kind of love that matters, that changes people, that lasts. Through two very imperfect and unrefined souls, a journey ensued that first formed an enviable camaraderie, a balance of two extreme viewpoints, and eventually an inseparable bond that metamorphosed into a highly charged romantic love. A writer could only hope to create two people so perfectly sculpted with the pen to fit together so flawlessly. I suppose in every story I write for the rest of my life their impression will remain.

Why does this matter? I’m sure that’s the question on your mind. It’s the question I asked myself this past weekend as I was able to enjoy once more these beautiful characters on the screen together again after six years. Why should a set of fictional people mean anything more after one has left the theater? Especially to me, as a follower and lover of Christ, as one sent forth by Him to be light, to be salt, to make a difference?

It is because of Christ that they do matter. It is the reflection of him that makes them beautiful. It is sacrificial love that inspires us and makes us see God. It is the ability of a man and a woman to care more for the other than for their own life that helps us know just a fraction of what Christ felt as he hung on the cross in our place.

Take it for what it’s worth. I’m sure there are plenty of you that will read this and roll your eyes. That’s okay. I've always sort of danced to the beat of a different song than everyone else. But if there is a reader who nods their head in appreciation and understanding, then I’m glad I took the time to sort out my thoughts and give honor to my fictional friends Fox and Dana, who after fifteen years are still searching for the truth, searching for God, straining to know why they were put on this earth and who the Creator is, whether cruel or loving, and who we are in all of our evil intents.

I guess I see in them the reflection of so many people, who see God as fearful and harsh in his dealings with man, but who long for him and hope to know his love and forgiveness. God may conceal a matter. It is his right as God. But he rewards the soul that searches out his heart, who finds the truth through all the darkness of this life. His word promises it. His Son secured it.

It is only ours to accept it.

So, in the immortal words of a man who wants to believe, “The truth is out there.” Keep searching, and you’ll find it. You’ve got the word of the author of the universe on that one.

A Statement

2008-07-14T10:34:00.000-04:00

After ignoring the nudging within to join a new friend and fellow blogger's blog tour until the very last minute, I'm here and ready to make a statement. I've come to realize that I need a purpose if I am to truly find out what God would have me do with this blog He urged me to start. I guess I'm here to discover my mission in writing Captive Thoughts.

I'm a writer. I have no doubt of that any longer. I used to. I used to be embarrassed that I should be so vain to think that anyone would want to read what I write. Last night my husband was reading my latest novel quite past his usual time to be fast asleep. He turned to me and smiled sheepishly. "I keep saying I'm going to stop after the next page, but it's getting good and I want to find out what happens next."

Little did he know his words made my spirit soar. Little did he know that he had given me the best encouragement and validation as a writer that was humanly possible. He wanted to keep reading.

So with that wordy introduction I come to my point. Here is what I hope that God will be able to do through this ministry of writing He has given me. Because He has given it to me. He has called me to write. And if God calls you to do something, He'll finish what He starts.

Mission Statement for Captive Thoughts:

1. God's glory.

There is no greater privilege and calling for a Christian then to bring the God of the universe a small amount of the glory and honor He deserves. If my writing can point others to how wonderful this amazing God really is, then I have not wasted my time.

2. That readers would see Jesus and His love and sacrifice for them.

The more I grow and learn about him, the more I want others to see who he is, especially my friends and family that may not know him. And I know I have readers who need to see him more clearly and understand his love and passion to reach them. It has also been my privilege to be given a great interest in the culture and people of Israel in the first century. I am delighted at any opportunity to share the knowledge that I have been able to gather due to such an interest. If I have been so enriched by knowing it, others might be as well.

3. To hone my skills by regular use.

Any serious writer will tell you that it takes regular practice to be a writer. You have to discipline yourself to write on a constant basis. A blog is a great way to do that.

4. To become more transparent.

I love to write fiction. Fiction seems to come into my head faster than I can type and I have 4 full length novels from the past 4 years to prove it. But I have a harder time being real, being me. Writing from my own experiences and feelings. For some reason those are harder to bring to the paper or computer screen. But I want to grow in my non-fiction writing as well, so I need to learn to share the things that are hard to share, to bleed my own pain into words that others might find some use in their own struggles for what I've already been through.

So there it is. My mission for this blog. I'm glad I got that down. Maybe this entry is more for me than anyone else.

Check out the rest of the blog tour at http://becomingmethruhim.blogspot.com/ ! There are some great bloggers with some great ideas to share, you won't be sorry for the time you spend reading.

The Reflection of Grace

2008-07-05T11:30:00.001-04:00

"How can you know?" says the broken man, at the end of his dreams and the beginning of despair. "How can you know for sure that the philosophy you cling to will save you? What could God do for the remnants of a life destroyed? How can you be sure of the motives, the intent of a mind that conceived the tree in the garden, the flood that destroyed the earth, who allows pain and death and injustice and destruction to enter the lives of every man, woman and child on this planet?"

"Why should I trust Him, this God of vengeance, of flood and fire?"

Were it not for one aspect of grace, one all defining moment of time and space and matter, I would fear His power, doubt His benevolence. Were it not for two sandy feet walking a beach on the other side of the world, were it not for gentle hands that healed illness and stilled storms and made fish and bread and wine where there was none... we would have every reason to dread.

But rest, weary soul. Trust. Omnipotent hands that created all became tiny infant fingers flailing wildly in a cattle feed box. The mind that conceived the ten commandments and punished the dissenters learned his letters and numbers beside his classmates. The voice that commanded the flood waters to destroy also laughed in delight, and spoke comfort to the broken, the grieving, the guilty.

The heart that grieved the act of creation for all its painful results, grieved in prayer over our plight in a garden late one night. Walked the road to our execution, and took our cross up on His shoulders, bled our blood and died our humiliating and excruciating death.

This is a God to trust. To love. To give everything you have to know.

Do not only look at His unbearable image of power and light. Look also to his humble reflection, see his tender smile, rest in the sight of his familiar eyes.

See all that He is. And give all that you are.

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are - yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." -Hebrews 4:15-16

The One Who Does All This

2008-07-01T14:32:00.000-04:00

Recently my next door neighbor hurried over in excitement when she saw me sitting on my patio swing with my newborn daughter. In her thick accent that has become familiar enough for me to understand, she praised the health of my child as she snuggled her close.

“Look at that!” she pointed at my baby’s prominent forehead. “In my culture, that means good luck!” She proceeded to point to her long toes and other features. “All of it means good luck! She will be very healthy.”

When she left, she knocked on the wooden picnic table – I suppose as a final assurance of my little one’s good fortune in the world. I smiled at her superstition, but as I watched her disappear into her own house, I felt sadness.

I have never had to be a parent without the peace of Christ ruling over my spirit, my emotions, my thoughts. What must it be like to walk this world, know the tragedies and miseries yet have nothing to assure me that a loving Savior holds it all in His capable hands?

I can't fathom it. I have no idea what it must be like to go to bed at night without committing each of my family members, from my husband to my daughter to my son to my baby girl, to the Lord's loving care and provision. I can only imagine the worry and the panic that would ensue in my heart were I to look at these little ones depending on me for their survival and not know that my dear Savior, Jesus, were looking over my shoulder with greater and purer love for my children than even my mother's heart can hold.

I can rest in the knowledge that He is good. That He is loving. So much so that He was willing to give up his life for me. To walk this earth shroud in a body as weak as mine. To limit all of his unending power and glory for the only reason that He wanted to provide for me a way to be with him. Me... and the children he has put in my care.

For Hannah, I will trust that He is good. His love endures forever. For Noah, I will trust that He is strength, even more in light of our weakness. For Talia, I will trust that He is perfect, and cannot fail. May I lean more heavily upon His everlasting arms each day, and may my family learn to do the same.

Do any of the worthless idols of the nations bring rain? Do the skies themselves send down showers? No, it is you, O Lord our God, Therefore our hope is in you, for you are the one who does all this. (Jeremiah 14:22)

Safe and Sound

2008-06-16T18:36:00.000-04:00

Welcome, Talia Rose

2008-06-10T22:53:00.000-04:00

Friday morning I woke up with a horrible migraine.

I was throwing up and miserable. My husband stayed home from work, my mom came to watch our two older kids, and he took me to the ER. I've been there before with migraines, I expected to be given medication and sent home. That was until they took my blood pressure. It read 170/120 and everyone immediately sprung into action! I was rushed up to labor and delivery where they treated the pain and started me on magnesium for the blood pressure. (Not the nicest medicine in the world!) They began a 24 hour urine test but the immediate spot check urine test suggested preeclampsia. One of the drs from my pratice (not my own) got in our face and pretty much tried to scare us into inducing immediately, saying that preeclampsia can get bad in a second. My husband stood up to him, saying we'd like to be a little bit more informed of the options. He sent in the high risk OB who was wonderful, he sat down with us and explained every viewpoint and all of our options. He said it was his strong advisement based on his experience that we go ahead with a version, induction and delivery. (The baby was head down, but oblique and needed to be coaxed into the right position.) We decided after praying about it together that our decision would be based on whether my body seemed ready to go into labor. He checked me and found me to be 1 cm, 50%, with a soft cervix. We felt good at that point about going ahead, especially when the 24 hour urine test said that I did have mild preeclampsia that could easily get worse if I was sent home. I was allowed to have a meal (I hadn't eaten in 2 days) before they started the induction. Another ultrasound showed that the baby was in such a favorable presentation now that a version was unnecessary. They started pitocin at 7 Saturday evening, and broke my water around 8:30. I started to feel painful contractions (though bearable) around midnight, and went through the night trying to move around as much as I could beside my bed, hooked up to a million monitors. Around 7 I was 5 cm dilated and I began to feel like I would love a rest from the pain. I had an epidural and was able to take a nice nap. Then around 10 I woke up and my nurse checked me. I was 7, but she said I was very very soft. A half an hour later I started to feel pressure. She checked again, 9 1/2 cm! She said to call when I felt the pressure between contractions. Only a minute or two later I felt it! That baby came zooming down the birth canal so fast that the epidural stopped working! I started calling out that I needed to push, the nurse helped me breathe through it until the dr got down the hallway and got her gloves on! Three extremely intense pushes later Talia came sliding out! She was completely healthy with apgar scores of 9. The nicu doctor had come in to see her but left immediately, saying there was no reason to stay. She started nursing like a champ in the delivery room and hasn't stopped since. We are very thankful to God for this little girl He brought safely into the world.

Thank you to everyone who upheld us through the past few days with your prayers and support. God is very, very good.

Staying the Course

2008-05-14T12:54:00.001-04:00

If you are a regular reader, you've probably figured out how hard it is for me to write during pregnancy. As I round the corner for the final month or so, I find my brain thinking only of what needs to be done for the baby, before the baby comes, or during the labor and delivery that I have shortly to endure. It's hard work to force myself to really think. It's hard work to make myself concerned over my own walk with the Lord and my struggle with sin.

So naturally, you would assume that pregnancy is an impediment to living well and doing right. I don't think so. I think of it as rehearsal.

Something my pastor says sometimes has caused me to think. "It's not starting well that is the hard part. It's finishing well." What he means is that it is somewhat easier to serve the Lord and work with fervor in His name when you possess the energy of youth. It's harder when you are exhausted from life, when your body has worn down and you have more aches and pains than passions. I think women, at least women like me that have a hard time with pregnancy, have a sort of warm-up for old age.

Sort of a weird thought for today, I suppose. I think it came to me as I began to notice that I was groaning and waddling and tiring out as easily as the ninety-year-old woman who sits next to me in choir. But as hard as it is to imagine living this way with no end in sight, no birth of a baby to free me from the physical toll being taken on my body, I'm inspired by her determination. After all, she's still in choir. She's not sitting at home waiting to die. She's living for the Lord as best as she can no matter her situation.

I guess if she can do it for the long run, I can do it for a few more weeks.

Going Green

2008-04-22T15:26:00.001-04:00

I want to go green. I honestly, positively do from the bottom of my heart. It bothers me that my fellow Americans and I consume so incredibly much, abusing the earth by filling it with garbage and smog and acting like there are no consequences.

It troubles me the attitude that Christians have had concerning the world we have been put in charge of by the Creator. I've actually heard it said that it doesn't matter what we do with the earth because Jesus is coming back soon anyway.

I believe He's coming soon more than I believe in my own existence. That's not the point. The point is that God gave man a job to do at the very dawn of life. He told us to take care of the world and all the creatures that lived in it. We don't need a single other reason to do so. We should do it because He said so and it would please Him.

But obviously it would be to our own benefit as well. Who wants to live in a dirty world?

It's at this point that it gets sticky. So far, the only people interested in saving the earth are liberals who believe the theory of global warming. Radicals who would rather use grain in biofuels than to feed the hungry in poorer countries. What Christian could in good conscience go along with the ideas that are so obviously formed on the panic of living without a knowledge or belief in the God who created and sustains this world until He's ready to make a new one?

So I think it's time for Christians to make our own decision to "go green" in our thinking. There's no reason to consume so much. There's no reason for us to live like it doesn't matter. Recycling, buying organic or natural products, using less fuel and making less garbage are goals that each of us can and should work toward, because God wants us to. Be creative, think of ways that you can make a little bit of difference in the way you live. Try to get by with fewer diapers. Use washable water bottles instead of disposable. Take a walk or a bike ride for family night instead of getting in the car and going somewhere. Put a bin in your garage and throw your cardboard and other recyclable material in it and arrange for it to be picked up, or just drop it off at an appropriate site when it gets full. You'll be surprised how quickly it becomes habit.

Just a few suggestions, in view of the beautiful resources God has given us in this world. No need to panic, no need to despair that God does not have it under control. But every reason in the world to take care of what He gave us as a gift. To show our appreciation.

This picture is my dad's. You can see more of his photography on his website, link is on the left.

Thoughts on Parenthood

2008-04-18T15:56:00.000-04:00

Busy days, growing lives

sometimes it's hard to realize

that these precious hours are some day gone

fading into distant song

What will I do with a moment in time

when you are here and you are mine

what will I do and be and say

to lead you on in the only Way?

Your high pitched voice, your childish lisp

carried away with a gentle wisp

This day will be a memory

Lord, make me ready to set you free.

Within My Heart

2008-04-07T09:35:00.000-04:00

You ask me how I know He lives? He lives within my heart!

-Ackley

We sat together on her bed, praying before she went to sleep. My four year old daughter prayed and then looked at me thoughtfully. A beautiful smile spread across her face.

"Mommy, it's easier to pray with Jesus in my heart!"

I've been thinking about what she said ever since. Such simple, untarnished faith combined with depth not expected of one so young. But what she said is absolutely true.

In our little homeschool-preschool, Hannah and I talked about the death and resurrection of Jesus the week before Easter. On the day we were talking about the Passover, and it's prediction of the sacrifice of Christ, Hannah became quiet. I put away the Bible and got out her math and alphabet work. She stopped me.

"Mommy, I want to ask Jesus to come into my heart." she said, and didn't wait for an okay from me. She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and asked Jesus to forgive her sins and come into her heart and "never leave her."

All the time I'd spent wondering how to help her understand, how to explain salvation to her, and she didn't need to know anything except the basic facts. Jesus loved her, Jesus died for her sins, Jesus wanted to live in her heart and be her Lord for the rest of her life. And she wanted that too. I didn't need to do anything besides model the joy of living in His Spirit and loving Him myself.

It amazes me to know that Hannah was chosen by God long before my fervent wish to become a mother finally became reality. He knew that she would follow Him before He even made the world. That fact, that His will and His wisdom is so far above mine, is what makes it possible to be a parent.

When Alfred Ackley wrote the hymn "He Lives" I quoted above, he was answering the honest question of a young Jewish man, who wondered why he should worship a dead Jew. I don't know what the man's response was. But I do understand Ackley's answer with all of my heart. At the age of six, I realized what Hannah realized, that I needed, and wanted Jesus to change me. I realized, on some level, that Jesus had to die to take care of the wrong things I had done. That he rose again in victory so that He could be Lord of all, and Lord of me. And I welcomed His Spirit in.

He's never left me. That's why I can promise Hannah that He'll never leave her either. And that is the source of my peace, and my desire that others also know Him. Not because I want another check in my file that says I got another person saved, as if we get extra points in heaven for bringing friends. Because I see all the heartache this life provides, and I know, I know Jesus is the answer! Not because I'm paid to sell Him, because I know what He's done for me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that His Spirit dwells within me and guides me, comforts me, gives me strength and hope for each new day.

I pray that every reader of this blog entry knows the same.

"For he himself is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by abolishing in his flesh the law with it's commandments and regulations." - Ephesians 2:14-15

"Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" -2 Corinthians 5:17

Even Though I'm Me

2008-03-16T00:07:00.000-04:00

"You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly." Romans 5:6

Amazing.

I'm struck today with the generosity of God. With the forgiving capability of a Lord I both love as a father and stand in awe of as an entity so far above me. How should it possibly come to be that He should give me a second thought, when he can see my thoughts, my actions, my failures?

I think it's hard for people like me that have grown up in the church, that have been spared the suffering of living without Christ. Easy in respect to the fact that we have been spared from the more devastating compromises and the murky journey through life without the light of Jesus illuminating the path before us, but difficult for us to see the putrid stench of our sin in the eyes of a perfect Creator.

But God allows us moments to behold ourselves as He sees us. Our bad attitudes, our apathetic spiritual soul, our hypocritical mask we wear for all of our Christian brothers and sisters so they may never know the depth of our depravity. Suddenly it all becomes too clear. We've come up short in all the ways we convinced ourselves we were doing so well.

Doubt creeps in. How could God care about me? Look how far He's brought me and still I end up back in this spot, disappointing Him again. Disregarding Him, again.

Just when I'm sure that He can't possibly forgive me and set me back on the path this time, a wave of relief floods over me as the picture of a man floods my consciousness.

A man hanging on a cross. Blood flowing freely. A perfect, beautiful life ebbing away even as the scale begins to balance, and I am no longer in debt.

I'm free. Even though I'm me.

Thank you for the cross, Lord
Thank you for the price You paid
Bearing all my sin and shame
In love You came, and gave amazing grace

Thank you for this love, Lord
Thank you for the nail pierced hands
Washed me in Your cleansing flow
Now all I know, Your forgiveness and embrace

Worthy is the Lamb
Seated on the throne
Crown You now with many crowns
You reign victorious

High and lifted up
Jesus Son of God
The Darling of Heaven crucified
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb (Hillsong)

Homesick for Heaven

2008-02-19T15:13:00.000-05:00

Today, I'm a little more homesick for heaven.

Before he was there, the thought didn't cross my mind as much. I knew that heaven waited for me. I knew that Jesus was there, and that I'd see Him when my time here is through. But now, there is a tangible part of my being present in that mysterious other world, for this very moment my grandpa walks with Christ.

Some never know their grandparents. Those that do might not ever be close to them, know enough about who they are to really come to love them in any sort of depth.

I had the blessing of a grandpa who wanted to know me. Who wanted to be part of my life, who wanted to share all that he was with us, his nine grandchildren. What a wealth of memories are stored up within my mind! Grandpa was an element of so many wonderful adventures from my childhood. He always had a plan, something he wanted to teach us. He took us for truck rides through the woods, he played basketball with us, he tried to teach us how to play tennis and card games. He videotaped every major event and plenty of minor events in our lives. He said little with words, but so much with his heart, his passion for life, his convictions about his Lord. Though I don't remember a single time he said "I love you" there was not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that he did. He showed it through his time, his energy, his actions, his smile.

Now, he can't mow the lawn or ride his bike or take videos of great-grandchildren or watch a game on television. He can't tease my grandma or sit by her side at the doctor's office. But he can do plenty of things that he could never do before.

He can look on the face of Jesus. He can walk with him, talk with him, share joy with the Savior that I can only imagine. No longer do the weight of memories of war and loss and heartache burden his spirit. No longer does the horrors of cancer ravage his person. He is whole. He is happy. He has found perfect peace, perfect love, perfect life. All because one night many years ago he attended a revival meeting and discovered that there was a Savior Who could be the answer to all of the plagues and doubts that marked his life. Jesus could save him, could set him on a new path and give him ever increasing joy and peace first in this life, but ultimately in the next.

And on Valentine's Day last week, he finally laid down the shell of his worn and weary body and flew to heights yet unknown to me.

I'm sad. Because I know there's no way I'll ever lay eyes even once more on his precious face this side of glory. Because I know that Grandma is alone for the first time in 62 years. Because my mom and my aunt have lost a man that meant the world to them. Because all of my sisters and cousins have lost the greatest grandfather in the world.

But I'm so incredibly happy for him. It's a relief to know that his burdens have been laid down. And my heart has become homesick for a sweet land I am destined for. A beautiful place of joy where two very special people wait. Jesus and Grandpa.

Face to face with Christ, my Savior
Face to face—what will it be,
When with rapture I behold Him
Jesus Christ Who died for me?

Face to face I shall behold Him
Far beyond the starry sky;
Face to face in all His glory
I shall see Him by and by!

This blog entry is dedicated to the memory of my grandfather, John Herman Hubble, soldier, teacher... husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather... April 11, 1921-February 14, 2008.

The Eye of the Needle

2008-02-09T22:11:00.000-05:00

This is the home I lived in as a child.

No one would have accused our family of living in extravagance in our little parsonage on Porter Street. In fact, I would have found it quite amusing to have been labeled as wealthy. But I was. I am. So are you.

Jesus had concerns about rich people. If you're anything like me, you've probably breathed an inward sigh of relief that you were not among the unfortunate few who found themselves the possessors of great amounts of wealth. The ones Jesus said would have a very hard time figuring out what His Kingdom was all about. Turns out, we are.

This has been a recurrent theme in my questioning mind in recent days and months. I read a book recently that posed the question of what the biblical mindset was: to use God-given wealth to make myself and my family comfortable, or to give everything away and live as a pauper in hopes of escaping the fate of trying to fit through that tiny eye of the needle Jesus spoke of. I came away with no sure answer. But I think I grasp a little better what Jesus may have been trying to say.

The Bible is clear that God is the giver of all that we own. The way He has created this world rewards faithfulness and provides in result of wise decisions. No one can say that money is evil. The Bible certainly doesn't say that. Some of the most godly and wise followers of God were wealthy beyond imagination. Think of King David and his son Solomon.

What the Bible warns against is the love of money. Love that supercedes our love for God. Love that says I'd rather have my things than be in the center of His will. Love that wouldn't be willing to give it all up if it kept me from getting through that needle's eye. Love that looks at the face of poverty and desperation and says that there is nothing I can do to help.

Of course, we have all heard the explanation of what Jesus was probably saying as he spoke those words. There was a very small opening into Jerusalem, one that was referred to as the "eye of the needle." It was not impossible to enter. But it was hard. It meant bending down. It meant getting off your camel and making yourself smaller in order to get through to the city. If you were already small, it was not as difficult.

If a person already has a correct view of themselves, seeing themself as small, as unworthy in the shadow of a mighty Creator, it's easier to see what God is all about. If we have an inflated projection of our own worth due to our comfortable circumstances, we require humbling to get into His presence.

So the question today is not whether you or I are rich. We are. If you live more to be comfortable than to survive, you have far surpassed the status of the humble. The question is also not really "Will you give up everything to prove your humility?" The question that Christ poses to you in light of this knowledge is simply this...

How much are you willing to give back to Me should I ask it of you?

The Outer Fringes

2008-02-01T22:19:00.000-05:00

Tonight as I stood in my kitchen talking to my husband, I suddenly received a blow to the abdomen by a four year old's head, a four year old eager for some maternal attention. The unexpected assault took my breath away. But for the first time in this pregnancy, my thoughts were turned to someone else who was involved.

There, inside my stomach, little feet and hands flailed in as much surprise as I had. This baby has been so quiet, so still, that it's hard to remember that there is a little person somewhere inside. Tonight he or she (my feeling says "she") made her presence known in the wake of such an injustice.

I was suprised by the feeling that overwhelmed me. Not so much that I was moved to concern for my unborn child, but that for the first time I realized that for all of the sickness and trouble that has been the past 18 weeks, there is a very good reason right inside my person - a reason that kicks in protest when his/her older sister wages an attack. A reason that sucks her thumb or gets the hiccoughs or takes a nap.

God has created life. That's amazing in itself. But to think that this protruding stomach houses one of my precious children that I will meet in 20 weeks or so - it's just overwhelming. Humbling. Who am I that He would use me for such an amazing purpose?

So tonight I appreciate the Creator of not just my daughter and my son, but my third child, mysterious as yet he or she is. This intimate and personal sharing of space with this little unknown being is showing me the beauty, the majesty, and the unbelievable creativity of a God I love more with every moment.

"...And these are but the outer fringe of his works; how faint the whisper we hear of him! Who then can understand the thunder of his power?" - Job 26:14

A Matter of Belief

2008-01-28T14:53:00.000-05:00

"For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever." - 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17

Do you believe it?

Of course I believe it! I've been taught to believe it since I was a child! It's in the Bible, isn't it? Why wouldn't I believe it?

What have you done recently to prove you believe it? Where is the evidence? Why do you believe it?

I'm sure this is a conversation that almost every believer has had with themselves or with someone else at some point in their relationship with Christ. It sounds good as a passage of the Bible, it is immensely entertaining as a series of fiction. We expect to hear about it from the pulpit. But when you truly bring it home, when you look it in the eye and feel the doubt rise up within, what do you do? Do you turn away from it and be content to believe it from afar? Or do you look closer? Do you face your doubts and concerns and find whether or not they are warranted?

Jesus said we wouldn't know times and dates. But I can't find any reason to believe that we won't know it's coming, won't see the evidence for His return written across world events, hidden behind growing unrest and rebellion against God. I think it's obvious even in the pages of Revelation that the time He will return to claim His church is amazingly near. Even as the world grows more hostile to Christ, more unwilling to admit His deity and His love, our hearts compel us to simply wait patiently a little longer, for the hour is close.

After all, He is only waiting for that last soul that will claim Him as Lord. He won't hesitate a moment after that.

So what will you do with your faith in His return? Will you live your life for yourself? Will you accumulate possessions and store up wealth you are soon to leave behind? Can you really worry over the future, over growing old, over death? In the light of such astounding truth can you be content to pursue no more than the daily tasks that are survival?

I challenge you today to think of ways to show your Lord you are ready, and anxious to hear the trumpet sound announcing his imminent arrival. I urge you to make known your faith in some tangible way. I was prompted several years ago to fill a manila envelope with letters, postage, a new testament, and further instructions for those I might leave behind when we are called to a meeting in the air. It's marked "Not to be opened except in the case of our disappearance" and it's waiting in a drawer of my dining room hutch for someone to find after we leave. I pray it will be of eternal use to someone.

What will you do? The time is coming soon. If you stop to listen, you'll hear the promise, whispered sweetly and softly in the breeze. I am coming soon.

What will your response be?

Why Bad Things Happen to Good People

2008-01-07T12:05:00.000-05:00

When you have everlasting NVP ("Nausea and Vomiting of Pregnancy"), you spend a great deal more time in front of the television. Although I enjoy movies tremendously, I am not much of a TV watcher save the 4 or 5 months of pregnancy that are misery.

All this is to explain why I happened upon a less than morally outstanding program late at night recently. Don't be too shocked, I know I'm not the only one who has seen Scrubs. Sometimes it's downright funny. The characters and setting are interesting. Depending on the episode, the faults can range from mildly crude to unduly risque to downright irreverent, which is why I usually make myself turn the channel. But something about this episode caught my attention. If you don't know the premise, it is a comedy about interns and residents in a hospital. The characters this particular episode was concerned with were Dr. Cox, the very grumpy head doctor, and a nurse named Laverne. Laverne had been established as the resident Christian, and the show has had great fun tearing apart her beliefs and making her appear either hypocritical or foolish for her faith. For whatever reason, the actress was leaving the show, so they decided to have her die in a car accident. The entire episode crabby Cox had been berating her for believing that there was a reason why bad things happened to seemingly good people. He couldn't believe in a God who would allow such things. Of course, Laverne had no answer, but was triumphant as the little girl who had been stabbed was found to have a tumor when they gave her an MRI, a tumor that would have killed her had it not been found.

In the wake of that blessing in disguise, Laverne dies in an accident on her way to work. Cox is left with no answer to his question, because obviously Laverne was a good person and she suffered by losing her life.

In this episode, rather than feeling irritated at the irreverent and mocking tone Scrubs sometimes takes, I found it to be very honest. A cry from the darkness saying "This is why I don't believe! Can you give me any reason to believe in a God who seems to turn a blind eye to our suffering?

Unfortunately, my answer as a Christian is usually lacking, just as Laverne's was. We KNOW the answer, but for some reason we don't try to put it into words. It's enough that we understand. But it's not! The reason we are here on earth and not already home in heaven with our Savior is because God loves all the ones who are still wondering who He really is. It's our job to show them the love of an amazing, unbelievable Being who has made all that we are and have.

Of course, the best way to show the love of Jesus is not usually with words. Sacrifice and the act of caring for others speaks much louder than our arguments and philosophies might. But when the question is asked, it deserves an answer.

The simple answer is that God is not responsible for the bad things that happen in this world. We are. Even the person who we consider "good" is still imperfect and sinful in the eyes of a completely holy God. Suffering did not enter this world when God created it. Suffering followed sin, and until God destroys this infected old world, suffering will still be a part of our lives. Why does He let it continue then? The Bible has a very clear answer for that question as well. In fact, it's written on my daughter's wall. 2 Peter 3:9 "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance."

God understands much better than we do the price of sin. He understands it so much that he let a good man called Job suffer tremendously to let us all know for generations to come that our side of the matter is not all there is. He understands so well that he was willing to send His eternal and perfect Son into this world, knowing that he would suffer far beyond any human ever will. Not so much physically, though he definitely experienced pain, but as the only perfect man to ever live, taking upon himself all the sin of every person who ever lived. That's suffering. So we never have a right to point a finger in the face of God and accuse him of being unaware of what it's like to suffer.

What do we say then, when someone who has yet to understand the plan of God asks the age old question, why do bad things happen if there is a perfect God?

I'd say it's out of love. God created us, knowing we'd fail, but knowing that He was willing to go the distance for us. We don't really understand this love, because we love usually hoping for something in return. God did everything. We don't need to do anything, and we can be as miserable and corrupt as possible and his love will not change. There is nothing I can do that God is not willing to forgive because of what Jesus did.

And we really begin to understand His love when we surrender our belief that we are "good." When we accept the truth, His Truth, we begin to see the love He has lavished on us since the moment he created us. God is good. God is love. God wants us all to belong to him, no matter who we are or what we've done.

Because of Jesus.

Mary, Did You Know?

2007-12-21T17:59:00.000-05:00

Mary, did you know that your baby boy

will one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know that your baby boy

will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy

has come to make you new?
This child that you delivered will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know that your baby boy
will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know that your baby boy
will calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy
has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby,
you've kissed the face of God.

The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again!
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak the praises of the Lamb!

Mary, did you know that your baby boy
is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know that your baby boy
will one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy
is heaven's perfect Lamb?
The sleeping child your holding is the great I AM.

Did I know? How could I have known? I know, you'd say I had the prophets, I had the angel, I should have figured it out. But I only realized the very basic truths at the beginning.

Did I know that he would one day walk on water? Who has an imagination that great besides Yahweh? Did I know that he would save our sons and daughters? I didn't fully realize the need until I began to have sons and daughters that weren't perfect like my eldest son. But did I know that he came to make me new, and deliver me? He was my baby. It was hard to imagine. It was painful to think of, actually. I imagined him in royal robes and palaces of splendor. I had no problem thinking of him as my king. But there was always a dark fear in the recess of my mind I could not acknowledge. I knew that it would not be a kingdom won without a great sacrifice. On his part. On my part.

Did I know that he would give sight to a blind man? I couldn't have known it. But strangely when it happened, many times, I wasn't surprised. Did I know that he would calm a storm with his hand? No. When the disciples came running to spread the news of that event, I could hardly believe such a thing was a possible. In a way, it made me feel as though I didn't know my own son. In many ways, I didn't. There was a whole other side to him that I could never have hoped to understand. He was human like me, but he was also divine. I spent a lot of time thinking about that fact. Imagining my energetic little boy running up the hill in Nazareth as he had dwelled among angels in heaven was a favorite daydream. And I never took one kiss for granted. I could sense power in every touch.

I knew he was Yahweh. I knew his fingers had created everything. But I couldn't put the knowledge into words until I saw him after he had died such a horrible death. How could life flow again through veins were they those belonging to the Lord of all the earth? And I never doubted that he would one day reign over all. He will. He could do nothing else as the great I AM.

So, I did know some things. I could never have known all, for I am weak and sinful as the rest of humanity. Why God chose me I'll never understand, but I did the best I knew how to do for him. Thankfully, Yahweh did the rest.

*"Mary, Did You Know" was written by Mark Lowry.

God is Good

2007-12-14T13:24:00.000-05:00

He would be good even if you weren't looking at a picture of my third child, 11 weeks old and squirming and kicking with life. I learned so much from the process of trying to get pregnant, and I don't regret a moment of the suffering, but I am so glad that He created this little one.

Suffering has taken on a new definition lately. I am not one of the women who love every moment of pregnancy and feel great the whole time. I have been quite sick for a month and I probably have another month to go before I'll start to be able to enjoy eating again, and that's only if the heartburn doesn't set in as quickly as the nausea leaves. But having two other miracles around me, all day every day, is a great reminder that every moment of physical discomfort is worth it to see that baby join our family and grow to be what he or she has been created to be.

Thank You, Lord, for the wonder of being a mom. I ask for endurance to run the race well, and wisdom to lead this little life to You.

Jesus in Unexpected Places

2007-11-25T16:28:00.000-05:00

For those of you that have been checking my blog recently, I apologize for my absence.

I've been learning some hard lessons in recent days, due to illness. To my surprise, one of my teachers has been my two-year-old son, Noah.

Two weeks ago I suffered from a migraine for which I was unable to take any medication. I spent about twelve hours in the worst pain of my life, sick to my stomach and unable to sleep. I cried out to God in those desperate moments, asking Him to deliver me or give me the strength to get through. He chose the latter.

At the worst point, as I sat on the bathroom floor, Noah suddenly appeared in the doorway. He looked at me for a moment and then spoke.

"Okay, Mommy? Okay?"

"Mommy's sick." I answered. He disappeared. I assumed he had returned to his play, but several minutes later I heard him lumbering down the stairs and running back to the bathroom door. He held out a sucker that he had retrieved from my room. I had a bag of them I'd been using for nausea.

Later he returned again with my bottle of water.

It was a simple thing, but for some reason his acts of kindness stuck in my mind. How amazing is God that He can reveal His love through a little boy barely able to communicate? How timely are His reminders that He is there, He is in control and that He will pull us through anything He allows in our lives, no matter how impossible it may seem. And not only will we make it through, we will become better for the experience. As Romans says, our suffering creates in us perseverance, character, and hope.

So if you are like me, and you've been at the bottom in some way recently, whether emotionally, physically or otherwise, don't despair. Allow God to shape you in the midst of the fire. You'll be glad in the end.

And may God bring your Noah to you to remind you of His everlasting love.

Common Courtesy

2007-11-08T14:01:00.000-05:00

I'm sure I'm not the only one who gets tired of the constant barrage of telemarketers trying to sell me something.

I was so tired of it I put my number on the do not call list. There is something in me that despises anyone telling me what I need to buy. The minute I hear that way-too-polite voice sounding as if I'm the most important person in the world I balk at the insincerity.

Somehow they find the loopholes. One particular man has been calling regularly for the past couple of weeks. Sometimes twice a day. I've been polite, I've told him that my husband handles that area and if he would like to talk to him he is home in the evenings. I've told him over and over again.

This morning, bright and early just as I was beginning homeschool with my daughter, he called again. Asked for me. Told me that he was calling back to let me know about a deal I just couldn't miss out on. I interrupted the spiel.

"I've told you several times now that you would have to talk to my husband, and that he's home in the evenings." I scolded him in a tone that let him know I was fed up. He apologized in his most insincere voice and said that he would call back later.

"Bye." I said rather abruptly and hung up.

The nerve. I thought as I returned to teaching. Why doesn't he just get the hint? What do I have to say to make him stop calling?

That's when I started to feel guilty. Did I just treat that human being the way Christ would have? Isn't that my job as His ambassador?

Telemarketers may be annoying. But they are still people. They are doing the job they've been given to do and probably not enjoying it very much. Especially when people like me get on the line.

I'm convicted today. I must do better. I can't allow the most basic common courtesy to escape me, let alone the command to love each and every person that crosses my path. Because Jesus did no less. And I have no right to belittle someone for whom He died. What a wasted opportunity.

Jesus, forgive my lack of love this morning with the man on the phone. Help me to shine Your light into a dark world, no matter what personal inconvenience to me. Help me see people the way You do. Amen.

Traveler

2007-10-22T14:47:00.001-04:00

It had been a strange morning so far for Pastor Robert, from the moment he opened his eyes.

Instead of waking up in his comfortable bed next to his wife, he found himself sitting on the stone steps of a huge, ornate building. Marble pillars rose high into the foggy morning sky. He shook his head, hoping to clear away the cobwebs and shake off the dream that must still possess him, but when he blinked, he was still there.

He stood up and looked around, wondering if he were the victim of some elaborate joke. An eerie feeling began to come over him as he surveyed the scene. Tattered, lifeless people lay around him on the steps. A weak cry came from the highest step. A baby lay all alone, crying helplessly and pitifully as the sunrise started to peek through the buildings all around him. He stared in horror at her. Her umbilical cord was still attached. He quickly went and took her in his arms, his breath catching in his throat at how cold she was. Surely she couldn't have survived much longer. Where was her mother?

What was this place, that left helpless souls on steps during the night to die? He took off his jacket and wrapped her in it tightly. He needed to find help for her. Where would the hospital be in this strange city?

He thought about the night before. He had been visiting some of the members of the church he pastored who were in the hospital. He had felt so despondent after watching one old man struggle to take each breath, pain evident in his clouded eyes, that he had driven to the lookout point on the hill over the city and shared his heartache and tears with the Lord. He couldn't remember driving home. He must have fallen asleep there.

And ended up here. "Here" looked suspiciously like Ancient Rome. Could he really have gone back two thousand years in time to walk the streets of one of the most powerful empires ever built? He supposed anything was possible for God.

A tiny sigh from the little one in his hands spurred him back to action. He walked as fast as he could down the side of the cobblestone street, trying to close his nose against the refuse that filled the trenches on either side. The street was largely empty in the early morning, but there were a few merchants setting up their booths and a few travelers on horseback. He saw a Roman soldier riding a magnificent steed and knew that he was indeed in Rome. He shook his head in amazement. While he received a few odd stares, probably at the sight of his clothes, he was basically ignored by all. He wondered where he should take this child. The soldier wouldn't be of help. He had no idea how to find a doctor or if the doctor would be willing or able to do anything for the sick baby.

Christians! He didn't speak Latin, but he knew some basic Greek or Hebrew from his seminary studies. He ran down the street, searching each booth for the sign of the fish or a cross.

He was delighted when he found one.

More to come...

What is a Biblical Purist?

2007-10-20T13:46:00.000-04:00

My prayer as I begin to write today echoes the popular song by Aaron Shust. Give me words to speak, don't let my spirit sleep, 'cause I can't think of anything worth saying.

Psalm 119: 1o5: Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.

As I was walking around my neighborhood this morning, my thoughts turned in this direction. What is the Bible? Why is so important that we define our relationship with the Word of God as Christians?

I don't know if the term "Biblical Purist" has been used before. I apologize to anyone who might have said it before I did. As far as I know it is my own. What do I mean by it? Let me explain.

I have held the belief for most of my life that all Christians were Biblical Purists. I'm saying that I thought all those who associated themselves with Christ believed the Bible, in its entirety, to be true and applicable to our lives. That they held no position below or above what God had said.

As I became an adult, and learned more of what the Bible does say, I started to question things. One example happened when I went to my in laws for the first time for Christmas and was offered champagne. I was at first repulsed by the idea. I had been taught to believe that alcohol is sinful. But after I gave it some thought and prayer and searched through Scripture, I couldn't find any reason to make it an issue. God created it. Up until recently, it was used to kill the diseases that lived in drinking water. Jesus drank it. Jesus' first miracle was the creation of wine from water at a wedding! What the Bible condemned as sinful over and over again was the abuse of alcohol, as harmful as the abuse of food, of money, or any number of things that are not inherently sinful.

The next time it was served, I accepted a glass.

These are some of the other statements that I have heard over the years: "The King James version of the Bible is the only inspired Word of God," "Drumbeats in music are sexual," or "Using 'lighter' forms of the misuse of God's name is okay as long as you don't say the really bad ones." I use these examples because they are so blatantly man-made. You only need to have a basic knowledge of history to know that the King James version was banned originally for its questionable sources. More specifically, we would have to believe that before 1611 there was no inspired Word of God if we claimed this as truth. Drumbeats in music only reveal the rhythm, and many things in life utilize rhythm. The Psalms are explicit in ordaining the use of instruments to emphasize rhythm. And when we look at the Bible, it's clear that God wishes our "yes" to be "yes" and our "no" to be "no," and even softer versions of curses such as "Gosh", "darn", "golly", "gee", etc, mean the same and are still a misuse of the holiness of God's name. Use of them must be labeled (if you are going to be a Biblical Purist) a breaking of the third commandment. (Exodus 20:7)

So am I trying to be a downer this beautiful Saturday afternoon? Absolutely not. In fact, as I prayed over this blog entry, I asked that God would show me how to say what He had put on my heart in a way that revealed His love, not my personal vendetta against false teaching. So how do I accomplish that in an entry many may have already stopped reading because of its controversial and negative material?

I'm not sure. But I do know that while taking away from or adding to the Bible is sin, and is contrary to the Bible itself, (Revelation warns against it for starters) its also something we all fall victim too. Perhaps this is a tool of the forces of evil to trip us up, as keeping us from Biblical Purism clouds our way significantly. And when man made rules are added to the Bible, walking with God suddenly or gradually becomes a drudgery, or finds us in despair as we realize we can never hope to follow all of them.

The good news from the Lord today is that you don't have to follow man made rules. Jesus said it over and over again as the Pharisees spouted off their additions to God's commands. God's way isn't burdensome. It's freeing. And more than that, those that have been covered in the blood of Christ are completely free! It's what we do with that freedom that is important. A true believer will willingly offer his freedom back to God and seek through His Word to find out what goes against the nature of God and refrain, and what moves in harmony with Him and embrace it.

So if you've held some convictions you are starting to question, you have a Savior who would love to show you His Way. He made it clear through the book He inspired His own brother James to write - "If anyone lacks wisdom, he should ask of God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him."

I'm thanking God today for His beautiful, infallible Word, and asking Him to keep me from the temptation to remove any part or make any addition to it's perfect arrangement.