New Body

Little Dancer

Lying on my bed, still and alone, I stare at my ceiling and listen.  I hear trucks passing on the highway, tires hitting ruts in the overused pavement.  Horns honking as pedestrians and drivers battle for right away.  Dogs bark, asserting their authority over their domain.  Voices yell, as domestic disputes spill outside the door of frayed homes.  My own house creaks and sighs as wind and weather rattle against its walls.  Cats cry and scurry within my rooms, affirming supremacy over one another.  My own heart beats and races, never stopping or resting.  Blood cells pump through my veins in the ever constant attempt to appease the demanding cells they serve.  My lungs pull in air, seeking the precious unseen oxygen, never reaching satisfaction.  Thoughts race on tracks through my mind, in a race that has no beginning or end.  Even in the stillness, nothing is still. 

For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.  Not only that, but we also who have the first-fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body.  Romans 8:22-23

In a world ever seeking for peace and “tranquility”, nothing is at peace, nothing is ever still.  Every body, every mind, every cell is battling for its space, its time.  The body lusting for pleasures and fulfillment.  The mind seeks answers and affirmation.  The constant rustle of disquiet ever lingers.  Even though my eyes cannot see and my ears cannot hear, my mind knows that the groaning and pains do not just rest at the limit of my senses.  Babies cry in hunger, children weak with thirst, men no place to lie down, woman no clothes to wear.  Forests are torn down, rocks are dug up, oceans become stale with death and air polluted with muck. 

Then to Adam He said,… “cursed is the ground for your sake; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life.  Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you, and you shall eat the herbs of the field.” Genesis 3:17-18 

Laying here on my bed, every second I age, every second a part of me dies.  When Lord?  When will it all end?  Lord when will the battle, the destruction take it final plunge?

For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Ephesians 6:12

In a realm between sleep and awake, in a place the mind and imagination surge together, I see.  I see the Lord’s hand stretched out to this restless dying vessel that contains me.  With the touch of His hand, the decaying flesh of this life is stripped away.  It falls to the dust like a withered husk.  In its place I stand, a new me. I body no longer hungry or thirsty, no longer tired or weak.  Skin bright and glowing.  Flesh warm and light.  The air around me wraps me in its warm embrace like a wool blanket.  The earth beneath my feet, soft and smooth, secures and protects my steps.  The Lord holds my hand and in the cool comfort of the trees we walk.  Water flows from the ground beautiful and clear.  Birds sing in the air and deer graze in the fields.  I look around and see so many others, some I should know, some I do not but we are new, new bodies, new flesh.  Together we walk, never tiring, never thirsting.   We just enjoy the pleasure of His company.

For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself.  Philippians 3:20-21

I wake and find myself still on my bed, still in my room, still in my decaying flesh.  The moment has not come. My body is still dying.  The world is still waiting, still paining for His return.  But a voice in the stillness speaks to me, reminds me that I am not alone.  Though my body is dying and weak, His Spirit is strong. 

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.  Galatians 2:20

So here I am still, in His hands I wait and I LIVE. 

For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.  Philippians 1:21   

Living Stones

Remnants

The lot was empty, long has been the time since it last held a structure or building.  Trees had already begun to take root and weeds freely spread throughout its empty crevices.  Roots and rocks pushed through what once may have been beautiful and grand.  The image of a glorious temple, pillars of marble and stone, great doors of wood and bronze, with inlayed designs of gold and silver.  Such a structure would have been a glory to behold.  Then with the sweep of a hand it disappeared into the fire.  Stone smashing stone and walls pushed to earth, it disappeared into infinity.  The place that people flocked to see, the structure that was the pride of its nation, was just a thorn of memories to those who looked upon its remains.  Would it ever be rebuilt, would there ever be another?

Over time feet refused to tread these hallowed grounds, grounds where death had taken its victory dance.  People would take other routes to their destination.  Going miles out of their way to avoid this place, averting the feeling of an uncomfortable encounter.  No one wanted to remember the defeat, the hopeless lose it conveyed.  But was that the end?  Was there no hope left?     

Even the rocks themselves lost hope of ever being remembered.  Would anyone ever seek them out, pursue them for a purpose greater than this?  The sun baking down and ground drying up, they just lie in wait.  With only a sliver of hope to hold them together, lest they turned to dust on the spot, they waited. 

“Coming to Him as to a living stone, rejected indeed by men, but chosen by God and precious, you also are living stones, are being built up a spiritual house, a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”  1 Peter 2:4,5

But then the day came, feet ventured in, ever carefully treading.  Each step taken in care and confidence.  Hands taking up rocks and pebbles alike.  Wiping away dirt and muck, to see the shining beauty locked beneath.  To the center of this abandoned lot He ventured, to a place long forgotten by all.  A stone He placed there; vary different than others.  This stone shone no beauty or gloss.  It was scarred and scratched with colorless facade.  A stone rejected by all of the builders preceeding.  But it stood strong and welcoming to those stones that lay around it.  It welcomed the broken and forgotten to come, to be part of its design.

With care and intricate work, the builder labored, placing one stone on another.  Hours passed and still He worked.  One on another He placed them, cleaning and caring for each one as He went.  Hours became days and weeks and months.  What once was one wall; became two and then three and four.  Rocks came from all around, rolling in to take their place in this new structure.  Even rocks broken and faded came to be part.  No rock was turned away, all were welcomed in. 

“For you were like sheep going astray, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls” 1 Peter 2:25

What once was an empty lot, now housed a structure like no other, a new temple.  It did not hold the grand stones of its predecessor with marble strength and gold and silver inlay.  This new temple housed living stones, stones of all shapes and sized.  Some small, some large, some flat, some round but each one had its place in the building they constructed.  Each one served a purpose.  Each one was placed with care. 

And that stone that the builder placed, the first, the stone no other builder would have used, it stood as the Cornerstone for all the others.  On it shoulders it carried the weight of all that came to It.  It stood as the conqueror that no enemy would destroy.

“The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.  This was the Lord’s doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.  This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”  Psalm 118:22-24  

Mirrored Reflection

Rippled Reflection

 

I stand at the glass and see the image of reflection it projects. I do not recognize the image set before me.  The shriveled creature with fear and worry shackled to the wrist and ankle.  Eyes swollen in agony, hair matted in shaggy clumps, clothing covered in filth and blood, bruised and broken.  Chains of binding sin and death pull back in an unrelenting torment.  Who is this creature, it surely cannot be me! 

“The pangs of death surrounded me, and the floods of ungodliness made me afraid.  The sorrows of Sheol surrounded me; the snares of death confronted me.”  Psalm 18:4, 5

Am I this broken creature, unrecognizable as a human being?  I touch the reflection to find the image, to feel it’s shriveled skin but cold hard glass is all that greats me.  The chains pull and cut at my skin, muscles scream at the restraints that bind me.  Fear surrounds me.  Worry and anxiety come down like a flood water to engulf me.  Is there no freedom from these binds?  Is there no air to fill these starving lungs.  I cry out in my agony, I cry for help in my distress.

“In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried out to my God; He heard my voice from His temple, and my cry came before him, even to His ears.”  Psalm 18:6

I fell against the glass, searching the image beyond for anything, any hope of freedom from this tomb.  I beat on the glass, desperate for relief, desperate to be free.  My tears touch the image, my hands press on its hands, trying to feel something except cold hard loneliness.

“The Lord thundered from heaven, and the Most High uttered His voice, hailstones and coals of fire.”  Psalm 18:13 

Crack!  The image shatters before me.  The pieces fall to the floor in a shower.  I huddle back in fear, bewildered by the event before me.  Who shattered the image, who shattered my tormenting companion?  I uncover my face, wipe the dirt from my eyes.  An image stands before me, one different than before.  This image is not me, this I feel sure.  With hands pierced with holes and robe dipped in blood, He stands tall, confident, true!  Eyes clear and wide, He smiles back, an expression foreign and otherworldly to one as me.  I reach to the glass, my fingers searching for understanding.  What before was cold and hard, now feels soft and inviting.  The image in the glass reaches as well, reaches through the glass, fingers on fingers, inviting, welcoming. 

“He sent from above, He took me; He drew me out of many waters.  He delivered me from my strong enemy, from those who hated me, for they were too strong for me.”  Psalm 18:16, 17

 He pulls on my hands, pulls me forward into the glass, into the image of who He is.  The shackles that bind me brake and fall.  The flood that filled my lungs is held back as this person, this image of someone stronger than I, pulls me in.

“He also brought me out into a broad place; He delivered me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live but Christ lives in me; and  the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.”  Galatians 2:20   

Within the glass, I am wrapped in a hug of warmth and peace. I am no longer alone, no longer afraid or dead.  Light surrounds me and life fills me.  The image, the reflection is no longer a mirror but a tomb for the death and shackles of sin and fear that once held me.  They cannot pass through the glass, cannot penetrate into the image of the One who now contains me.  I am no longer the reflection in the glass.  I am free from the shackles, barred by the impenetrable barrier that blocks them.

“As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.”  Psalm 103:12

“For You will light my lamp; the Lord My God will enlighten my darkness.”  Psalm 18:28

Battlefield

 

“For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.  And there is no creature hidden from His sight but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him whom we must give account.”  Hebrews 4:12-13 (NKJV)

I am a soldier standing in the field dazed and confused as to the outcome of the battle that played out before me.  Men and woman yelling, spewing their curses to the one for which they attack.  Commanders lead the assault, horsed snort their protest of being pushed in such a futile fight.  Spears and swords sharpened to bring death on the enemy they do not know. 

The One we attack, the One we call our enemy, stands brighter and more glorious than the sun itself on the clearest of days.  The sword in His hand, a fire of glory and power surge from its blade.  We can barely look upon this point of our assault but the commanders still scream their orders to attack.

                Now I stand in tears with many others.  All wondering aimlessly and lost amidst the remnants of a battle that was foolish to pursue.  Our arrogance and pride ripped away, armor tossed aside, cloths shredded, spears and swords shatters.  We should never have fought this battle but foolishness is such a convincing companion.  The cold and nakedness of loss are overwhelming to me in my broken state of defeat. 
                I see the One we attacked, the One we gathered to assault with our biggest and sharpest of weaponry.  He does not gloat over a victory fulfilled or proudly pushing aside the wounded for which the battle left behind.  I stare at this pinnacle of righteousness standing before me.  Tears in His eyes, He wipes the torn and bleeding faces that huddle before him.  His own hands He soils with the dirt we still carry in our grip.  One by one He picks up the wounded and defeated that lye out before Him.  He cleans the wounds and mends the broken.  He gives new garments, clean and white for the shredded threads that no longer cover the naked guilt that we carry.  He kisses each of our heads and calls us His own.  All drop their swords and spears in submission to this One whom they once looked upon as the enemy.  Even those on the verge of death, He breathes life into their lungs and brings them back from the abyss to be His own.  

The sword which he carries becomes a garment of grace, in which he wraps those gathered before Him.  His warmth and peace pour out from the threads of this garment in which He wraps all of His own.  

“The Lord will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.  And those who know Your name will put their trust in You; for You, Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You.”  Psalm 9:9-10 (NKJV)

Prosperity vs. Promise

Still Standing

I just read Psalm 73 and for some reason the intensity of it is overwhelming to me.  The wicked and sinful of the world grow in prosperity while those called to Christ struggle to make ends meet.  The sinful become more boastful and arrogant in each passing day, while Christ own are chastised and punished for calling upon His name.  I can’t help but question why is the sin of the world allowed to run so rampantly and become so acceptable.  . 

                “For I was envious of the boastful, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.” Psalm 73:3

Just watch the evening news for fifteen minutes and the acts of man make you just want to break down in tears.  Men tear each other down to rubble and self indulgence is considered the acceptable choice.  Christ word is thrown to the fire as men turn to sin as their given right.

“They scoff and speak wickedly concerning oppression; they speak loftily.  They set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue walks through the earth.”  Psalm 73:8-9

I look at my life and know I am guilty of questioning the why’s in the world.  It’s a matter of vision that I know I have questioned more than once without completely comprehending my own thoughts.  The Psalmist struggled and questioned these things just as I have and wanted to look as his own acts of obedience as vanity.  Why should we obey?  Why walk in righteousness when sin brings visible prosperity. 

                “Surely I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocence.” Psalms 17:13

Even people who claim the word of God as their calling to action forget the truth of who Christ really is.  They take up violence as their calling, using God as their reason for shedding blood instead of speaking Christ’s Love.  “He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” (1 John 4:8)  War, hatred, false submission and acceptance seem to be the winning parties in these last days. 

“When I thought how to understand this, it was too painful for me – Until I went into the sanctuary of God; Then I understood their end.” Psalm 73:16-17

From my small place in this picture, the portrait as a whole seems hopeless and futile.  But then I see God’s heart, Christ’s words and the promises that He gave.  Then I see that the WAR HAS BEEN WON, the victory has been given!  The actions of the wicked are temporary but the promises of God are everlasting.

“As a dream when one awakes, So, Lord when you awake, You shall despise their image.” Psalm 73:20

I know to whom I belong and to what purpose my life will serve.  Though the world does not know Him, He is still present and he has already won the war.  The world will continue to rebel against Him but He will continue to be present.  He will not leave or forsake those who call upon His name.  He will fulfill His promise of Love to those who call upon Him.  Our prosperity does not look like that of the world.  Our treasure does not rust or crumble.  Our reward cannot be stolen or destroyed. 

“Who have I in heaven but You?  And there is none upon earth that I desire besides you.  My flesh and heart fail; but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:25-26

Though the skies seem dark and the storms churn on a violent offensive, I know to whom I belong and why I have continued to live the life of obedience.   To Jesus I belong and to Him I obey.  “God is love” and to Him I surely belong.

 

Honor Thy Father and Mother

Piece of The Past

I can hear the television blaring in the other room.  My father can’t hear vary well and so in response it gets turned up to theater blasting volume to compensate for his difficulty in hearing.  As long as I don’t mind hearing the theme music to Magnificent 7 in every inch of the house it really isn’t an issue.  How many people understand what it’s like to have someone who fits in this category within their home?  I imagine many do and many know the work and care involved with taking care of someone who unfortunately at this point is no longer the person they once were.  Sometimes you have to correct them for doing something they shouldn’t, like give the cat table food when the cat, who has a potential medical issue really can’t have it.  It gets frustrating and stressful sometimes, reminding, explaining and answering questions but am I above this responsibility for any reason.  Am I for some reason worthy of not having to take care of those who spent a large part of their adult life bringing me into and carrying me through this life?

I realize how easy it is to categorize people in separate groups, the young, the adult, the middle aged and the old.  It’s as if we are separate races sometimes and not all the same people.  How often do we look at someone who is older and dealing with a physical or mental condition that is slowly stealing their independence to life and completely forget the fact that is person once was us?  They once were the young vibrant youth, making mistakes and living on the edge.  Do any of us really realize that those eyes and hands have seen and touched more time and places than their mind may ever know?  They were once the youthful foolish folly that I still hold on to.  I try to be the adult with spouse and family, attempting to be the responsible parent.  At times it seems like a nearly impossible task that really should come with an instruction manual and perhaps a map to guide the way. 

Ever look in the face of a person whose hair is thin and white and skin is creased with the years of their journey and wish you could ask them their story.  Ever just want to know, what have they seem and heard? What have they learned on their road that perhaps I can use as I still struggle to take my journey and still cutting my path through this deep intense jungle of life.  Remember those who came before you.  Remember they are not strangers or aliens, they are just you. Their hair may be a little whiter and steps a little smaller but at one point in their lives they were the daredevil or the singer or the jokester or the hero.  They walked the steps we now take and made the mistakes we are now facing.  It may seem like a bother sometimes or a burden but never forget that it is not that high a price to pay for a life that has concurred so much and seem so many things.  They become the teachers and we are the students.  Give them a hand or an ear because they already gave so much and we can at least give our best to make these years truly blessed.  At this point in their lives they deserve the mansion on the hill because they truly did work for it.

Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you. Exodus 20:12 (NKJV)

The Roaring Mind

Devil's Den

The mind, the most powerful instrument or organ God ever created.  It has the power to creature beauty or bring destruction.  It is the source of words and actions that can restore life or steal it away.  It can be like a raging bull, unable to be controlled or corralled.  It can be a diligent conductor, directing the mouth and body to do things of strength and honor.  It can go mad, it can be brilliant.  The mind is so intriguing, yet so dangerous.  We try to understand it, try to quiet it.  At times we attempt to control it or want to erase it.  How can we truly understand it? 

I have seen my mind feel broken and weak; it has been wild and a blur.  I have seen it be brilliant and beautiful, creative and loving.  I have seen the full spectrum of emotion and thought travel through this organ that is my brain.  I understand hate, I understand loathing and darkness.  I understand longing and loneliness.  I have seen my mind wish for death, long to be brought to its end.  I have seen it yearn for the future and dream of the beyond.  It has gone wild and has been halted to a complete stop.  At times I fear my mind, I fear what it will think, what it will long to do.  Will I lose it, will I forget it.  It is the one thing that without we are nothing.  It defines us, makes us the personality we are.  No matter how far science advances, the mind is the one thing that cannot be recreated or replaced.  We can create limbs and replace organs, graft skin and grow hair, rebuild bone and restore tissue but the mind is irreplaceable.

Can anyone control this raging lion that stirs in my skull?  He roars and lashes demanded to be noticed, commanding to be heard.  My mouth at times opens in a flood of words or remains locked to imprison the whirling inside.  The only peace I have, the only tamer of my thoughts, the one who can conquer the raging beast, He is the only one who can see the depths of my turmoil, bring light to my darkness.  He has gone to the depths physically, mentally and emotionally yet was not defeated by the beast that resides there.  He defeated the beast that lurks in the darkness and whispers his detestable lies into my ears.  Jesus Christ alone has been the only true tamer of this ravenous creation that is my mind!

 For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. II Timothy 1:7 (NKJV)

The King

Shine as the Rose



The king on his throne, crown of jewels upon his brow, rings on his fingers and gold sandals on his feet.  We stare in awe at the riches of his leisure and envy the power at his word.  Servants bring him bread and maids pour his wine.  They fill his bath with perfume and his bed with the plushest of pillows.  His wardrobe lavish and garments weaved of the finest in thread.  Oh how we wish for the luxuries of his life. 

                But do you see the burden, the heavy load of his bear?  His mind ever scans the tasks of his place.  The cart of questions and needs ever follow him around.  One after another they come, with complaint and want.  They throw their burdens ever forth before this, their king.  Upon his seat, no matter how plush the fabric or how sweet the wine, the burdens ever fall forth to lie at his feet.  Like rocks they fall to weigh down the one whom they are given.

                Do you stand back, lean by the wall, the shadows to conceal?  Do you watch the small and the weak as they bow at his feet?  Do you scoff their torn cloths and laugh at their bare feet?  They present their best treasures to this their king, whether small chicken or basket in hopes for his favor.   You watch as they come through to give of what they don’t have in hopes of much more.  You watch as the king takes great pride in their coming and thinks hard upon their needs.  He gives them his guidance and sends them on their way.  You laugh at this man, this one who is king.  Why do they bow at his feet?  Why do they humble before he?

                But what you don’t see is the biggest truth of all.  Yes they bring gifts of small and of feeble but in return what they received is so vary mush more.   This king set before you, he does not take of what they don’t have and leave them with less.  He gives them not only wisdom and discerning but treasures much more.  He loves these who come to his feet and guides their every step.  He heals their deep wounds and wipes away their stray tears.  He opens up his store house to give more than they have.  He gives cloths for their backs and food for their tables. He builds shelter for their families and protects their very lives.  He gives justice to their disparity and hope to their eyes.

                He does not give because of his wealth or because of his stature.  No, these are his people and for them he gives love.  They which give what little they have, he returns so much more.   

 

 

And He has on His robe and on His thigh a name written: KING OF KINGS AND

Lord OF LORDS.  Revelations 19:16 (NKJV)

The Tree

Stretch Its Branches

A tree, it grows and stretches, never giving up its incessant attempt to touch the heavens.  It holds steady with the seasons, blooms in the spring and flourishes through the summer.  With the approach of fall, the chills and the wind, it hunkers down for the approach, the challenge ahead.  Steady at work it stores up its strength.  It gives up its leaves, renouncing its beauty, continually focused forward on the waiting sleep ahead.  With winter comes the storm, snow and the hail.  The feel of endless cold and relentless dark persists.  Waiting and still, the tree patiently sleeps, persevering and holding on for the return of spring.  It never gives up or runs away, it remains rooted and strong, feeding on the storehouse within.   

As the tree, life encounters seasons, times of joy and times of pain.  In times of summer and warmth, I stretch out my branches as the tree and dance with the clouds.  But in times when cold and bitterness attach, they bite at my roots and pull at my limbs. Do I stand strong and steady, do I hunker down and wait for the return of spring.  Do I feed on the storehouse within or do I starve and wither?  Do I bring in the nourishment of life or do I waist away in death?

The tree pushes its roots, breaking slowly through the rock and the soil.  It pulls in the water of life and minerals of strength.  It works tirelessly through the summer making its food.  It works persistently to store for the long winter ahead.  It pulls in the air, basks in the light, diligently at work on the task at hand.  It works in secret, only for its maker to see.  The eyes of the world cannot see its labor but only its beauty.  They envy its size, longing for its splendor but unknowing of its tiresome work.    

I am the tree and God is my gardener.  He plants me in fertile soil and brings waters to my roots.  He pours out sunlight over me and blows fresh air through my branches.  He keeps me rooted and tends my limbs.  He binds His Words within my depths and stores up his strength with my limbs.

I work day and night within the seasons of feasting, not to squander away or waste the hours but to store up my soul for the long winters ahead.  I feast on Your Word and drink of Your spirit.  I toil and tire to continually be filled with Your nourishing Life. 

I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing. John 15: 5 (NJKV)

The Castle

Face The Wall

The horn is blown!  The alarm is spread.  “Close the gates!” is shouted from the lookout.  “They are coming!” is cried out.  The Kingdom stops.  Everyone froze in anticipation of the danger approaching.  The gates are pulls shut, the drawbridge withdrawn.  Maids and cooks, butlers and stable hands retreat into the safety of the castle cellars. All in wait for the danger to pass.  The knights mount their steeds.  Soldiers armed and ready stand at attention, all waiting for the imminent attach.

Across the field, one would expect an army of tyrants, ready to seize.  But instead of soldiers and weapons, all that approaches is on single person.  Someone with cloths, warn and outdated.  Hair is askew and teeth may be crooked.  Voice a little boisterous or smile a bit timid.  No sword to slash or arrow to pierce, only one longing spirit continuing to search.  But even though the threat seems so small, so silly to some, to those within the walls this one is to be feared.

We walk into church every Sunday.  Welcome faces give greeting, friends say hello.  The worship team plays, the pastor gives teaching.  The offering plate passed, prayers are shared.  We fellowship and talk over coffee and cake.  Then slowly, as if on cue, people start leaving, each to their homes.  Some go for dinner, other to nap but everyone leaves to resume the lives that they live.  Did anyone notice, or did they not want to see, the couple in back, standing alone.  He stands tall but his eyes reflect loss.  She huddles close, cradling her child.  Someone says hi, another how are you?  But no one really stops to ask them their names or waits to hear the state of their story.  Each keep going on their merry way, no one to notice the souls lost in their midst. 

I know it is hard to step out of your comfort zone and speak to another.  This coming from someone who is a professional wall flower.  But occasionally the opportunity arises, that God gives me chance to speak to another.  Another wondering soul searching for answers.  I know how they feel and relate to their fears.  I get a chance to bring encouragement and words of true hope.  I also know what it is like to be the outsider, continuing to peer in but not feeling a part.  I have always fells bless but those special souls that have stepped outside their own lives and made me feel I belong. 

Some who walks through your door may be less than expected, some have baggage they carry, others swords at the ready.  Some have history of pain, others live among storms.  But each one has one thing in common, that small invisible place, God built in every one.  They search for the answer to the one real question that every life faces at one point or another.  Does anyone love me?  

Those who have Christ living out through them, have a treasure so dear, that it must be shared.  No matter the person or the history they bear, they deserve this treasure as much as you do, to be theirs.  Don’t be afraid, don’t be the judge, your mission is simple.  Open your mind and clear out your heart.  Let the treasure of Christ poor out onto all that come near.   

I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation for everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the Greek.  Romans 1:16 (NKJV)

Celebrate Our Elders

Happy 70th Birthday

Everyone crowds in the room, quiet as a mouse.  Someone whispers a joke.  Someone snickers in response.  Another person holds a finger up, commanding all to shush. Someone quickly enters the room, wildly waving.  “Their coming!”  The next several moments pass as if hours.  Finally the door opens, steps slowly move across the floor.  Voices are heard off in the distance.  The face everyone is awaiting finally turns the corner. “SURPRISE!” the room erupts in a roar.  People laugh and cheer.  “Happy Birthday” is yelled.  A woman of many years stands in awe of the scene before her.  Smiling faces and welcoming hugs.  A cake is lit and presents are passed.  Food is shared and stories are told.  For a day in time a life is remembered.  

A 70^th birthday.  An event to truly celebrated.  For those of us at the lower end of life’s ladder, an age of this caliber is hard to imagine.  When thinking of my own Mom turning this rightful round age, I can’t help but think about how far her life has come.  She was the amazing source of my coming into this world.  She raised me from a helpless infant to a woman who can now stand on my own.  She prayed with me before bed and told me stories of old bible heroes.  She was strict with her rules and strong with her punishments.  She gave me the world with what pennies she had.  She always was there when pain held me down.      

Is there someone in your life, a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a pastor or a friend?  Someone who has been there with you through the toughest of times and the brightest of times.  You had moments where you cried together and other times to laugh together.  They corrected you when you went astray and praised you when you achieved.  They were not always perfect though.  At times they made mistakes.  Their humanness showed through.  They were not superman but they never gave up.  They were the person you searched for the answer.  The person who would push you to keep going.

In our lives, God blesses us with people to guide and help hold us up.  It may not be your parents.  They may have not been around.   They may have been overwhelmed with struggles of their own.  People may have abused you.  Friends may have lied to you but God always saw you.  When you needed a hand God would always provide.  He brought people into your life when you needed them most.  They were not perfect but their wisdom of years they would always supply. 

As you live your life, never take those who raised you up for granted.  They are the elders who made you who you are.  Celebrate them and thank them for all they have done.  Make sure they know they are a blessing God granted just for you.     

You shall rise before the gray headed and honor the presence of an old man, and fear your God: I am the Lord.  Leviticus 19:32

Fan or Follower?

Following to Leader



He has risen!  Do we say it as a cliché for our visit to church on Sunday or do we really mean it.  Do we really stop to think about the impact of this single action on the entire human race?  For all the billions and billions of people ever born into this world since the beginning of time and yet to be born, the fact that one man took every hurt, every pain, every failure, every mistake, and every darkness that has ever traveled through every life in this world is the greatest of feats no one can truly grasp.  I will never be able to totally grip the whole of the picture of this truth no matter how hard I try to wrap my fragile brain around it, I can still not see past the present moment where I stand.  At that realization, all I know to do is be thankful with as much of myself as I know how to give. 

The pastor spoke of not being a fan but being a follower of Christ.  A fan, a person who cheers and rejoices of winning, curses and pouts of loosing and stands aside while someone else slaves and works to achieve a goal while they themselves never move from their spectator seat.  The fan does not sweat on the field for hours on end trying to condition for that moment of truth.  The fan does not study and work day after day to achieve a purpose set before them.  The fan does not adjust and define their entire life behind a given reason and sacrifice to reach its end.  A follower though, they follow their leader.  They listen to the teaching; mimic the actions of the one they follow.  If their leader falls they are there on the ground with him trying to defend his position, pick him up and stand in his place.  If need be, become the leader if he can lead no longer.  They give up and let go of things just to continue on the path laid out by the one they follow.  Being a follower is painful and difficult.  There is no fame or glory on this road.  This is but great danger and turmoil that continues to pursue.  Being a follower is humbling and refining.  It grows and stretches you; you become the image of the one you follow. 

Am I a fan or a follower?  Do I cheer and rejoice over wins, wear the team colors, spouting about another’s great deeds?  Do I critique the calls of the coach while sitting in my seat behind the spectator line?  Or am a follower, am I willing to sacrifice my identity to become the identity of Christ?  Am I willing to give up everything to be the person he is seeking for me to be?  I look back on my life and see that God has already been teaching me the difficult lesson of being a follower.  He has slowly stripped away so many of the things that I have held onto to protect me from having to truly get my feet in the mud.  The people I have tried to follow, the things I have tried to label myself with, the things that I have tried to use to define myself without having to do the hard part and actually get down in the dirt of life and find out who Christ intended me to be?  Christ never intended me to follow the actions and dreams of man.  Man is not Christ, man fails and falls short but Christ, He is the General in an army that is so much stronger than any force built by man.  He strips away the luxuries of this world and asks us to get down in the trenches not to punish us or harm us but to strengthen us, to turn us into soldiers willing to follow him till the end of the battle.  To crawl in the mud, to climb the barbed fences, until the day we can all say the battle is over and the day of victory is here. 

If I had decided to stay a fan then I probably would have turned in the towel long ago.  Being a fan in this game does not bring the instant gratification that the fan continually seeks but being a follower willing to crawl in the mud of life to follow the leading of Christ brings a greater reward that only He can give. 

Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.  Matthew 16:24 (NKJV)

Battle of the Past

Battle Near Home (Gettysburg)

My mind is a stir of thought.  Fear nags like a pesky fly, determined to penetrate my deepest wells.  Each day I seek peace, quiet and tranquility but the constant conflict of life refuses to submit.  I become weary of the battle, too tired to stand guard.  If it is not a friendship gone sour, it’s a boss causing difference or a phone number emitting fear.  The lessons continue whether I want them or not.  Do I want to be a student or just a bystander of ignorance?  I learn to create boundaries with those whom I’m exposed.  I guard my words with caution with those who judge my steps.  I see how quickly a phone call can become a whirling mess. 

I ever hold the pain of friendships gone sour.  The scars refuse to leave but I seek a means to try.  I remember every broken word, stored in my deepest cellars.  The door remains locked except to enter a new offense.  No matter how hard I try to clean those dingy cellars something remains.  They leave their essence in a hair, a nail or a left over sandwich.  Always some little particle of their time with me remains. 

God heals and forgives, gives us the means of moving forward.  Does that mean the pain stops, the hurts don’t continue?   Like a pack of hungry dogs that nip at our heel?  God opens the doors to our future but the past doesn’t always depart.  We learn to focus forward, to ignore the hungry dogs.  They whine for our attention but refuse to submit.  They may fall behind and grow silent at times. Every dog we attract follows us still, whether ferocious or whimpering. 

Even on a chalk board washed clean, some form of the past still stays. Imprinted in the background of what is to be written.  Each pain, each hurt, does it not affect the future?  If I did not still remember some aspect of the past would I not just continue to be the same offender?  To repeat falls of my own weakness and blunder, to ever continue to run the same hamster wheel? 

Even though I grow weary of the battle, I know each pain has a purpose, each fear a tool for the building of my future.  With each wound I grow stronger, the wisdom of understanding grows deeper.  I realize ignorance is foolish.  If I remain ignorant of things of the past then how do I become a force for the future?  Each hurt, each wound drives me to never give up, never stop the endless battle to move forward.  Is it foolishness for me to believe this way?  Is it possible to just be a true pacifist, to never take part in the battle, to ever seek peace?  

In this world, the only giver of peace is Christ Jesus himself.  He is the bearer of peace and the strength of our armor.  No matter the pain, his love is ever near.  Only he has the power to change our past from a weight at our feet to the sword in our hand.  With every pain, every offence, my armor grows stronger.  The memories become tools instead of thorns in my mind.  Christ calls the battle continue and the march continue on.  But no matter how ferocious the battle, the Commander is always near.

“These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”  John 16:33 (NKJV)

HAPPY LABOR DAY!

Flowing Free

 

Happy Labor Day!

From MIND IN RUMINATION

Bump on a Log

Fallen Log

Holidays can be exiting times of laughter and cheer.  Throughout the year we have holidays to give us times free from work, times with family and friends.  But for some these are times of sorrow and sadness, missing those who are no longer here and the lives they wished they had. 

I have been at both ends of this spectrum and can say I have encountered both extremes of analysis in just a few days.  In facing another holiday, a time for get-togethers and preparation, I admit I become lost in focusing on my current circumstance, those points that have yet to happen in my life.  It is so easy to get lost in the “Poor Me” mentality.  I can so easily become swallowed by those things I do not have.  Not being married, never having children, not getting the career, not going on vacation.  These things are just that, things.  They can seem to become our identity if we let them.  We let our mind focus on them to the point where they imprint on every part of our personality.  I can get lost in a picture of being a failed specimen, a rejected product.  It can overwhelm my every thought until I feel I am going to brake.  At that point it is easy to just give up, just throw in the theoretical towel.  Just let the holiday pass as if it is another day, just let the flood engulf me. 

But sometimes God puts people in our lives to remind us how important we are.  To veer our focus on whom God made us, and not what we think we should be.  It is so easy to just wish someone else would do it. Someone else would make the plans.  Someone else would do all the work, but waiting for someone else means miss out on the things God has for me.  Sometimes it is so easy to just be the picture on the wall and watch what everyone is doing as they pass.  Hoping that someone will stop and notice me, someone will consider me as a worthy purchase. 

In facing another holiday, I made a decision to not be the bump on the rotting log, but to be the flower that grows out of its withered remains.  I make a decision.  I clean my house, I cook my meal and I remember I have people in my life.  I send out last minute invites and plan for guests.  By the end of the evening I sit with my friends enjoying many laughs and making many memories.  Unbeknownst to me, I am given an opportunity to be a blessing to someone else, other lives that are thinking the some kind of things as me and walking similar paths as I.  God shows me I had a purpose and I was not a failure.

At times when you are tired of walking your own path, when you feel your life should be different then it is; I encourage you to look around and remember how you bless those you encounter.  Even though the circumstance may not be what you have planned, you still have a purpose and God has the strength to help you take ever step. 

Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others.  Philippians 2: 3-4 (NKJV)