31 Days: #31 Letting go

She was so old and so sick and I knew we only had a few minutes left with her, but they told us she could still hear. So I got down beside her face, that face I knew it would break my heart not to see anymore, and I spoke the words before my chances ran out. No one ever loved me in quite the way you did, and I want to thank you. Why did I hold the words in until just shy of too late? But I could've been 110 and I still wouldn't have been ready to let her go.

Not too many months later, there was more letting go to do as I stood gazing at the shell of him one last time. My mind reeled and emotions raged wild, but mostly I was just broken. And in that moment I learned it all over again, only this time in deeper and more gut-wrenching ways. The biggest battle is in letting go.

Thirty-one days of battles and I could go on forever if I had the time and the tenacity for it. But as I wrap things up on this thirty-first day of October, it also happens to be my firstborn's eighteenth birthday.

Talk about letting go.

This is new for me, relaxing my hold on this being created and grown inside of me. This child who when born from my body took a part of me with her. And now there's a good-sized chunk of my heart that'll go wherever she decides to take it, down whatever path He leads her, even if to the ends of the earth.

As a sixth grader she started in with, "I want to be a missionary, and I want to go to Africa!" and everything in me screamed "NO!". But her wise grandfather (my father) said I mustn't discourage it. So I've had six long lightning-fast years to make peace with the idea, to come to understand that she's not really my child at all but His child. And He put her here to fulfill His calling upon her life.

So here I am in another season of letting go. But this is where it gets the hardest it's been yet, especially since she's half-way out the door already and singing her heart out about it. And to think, only yesterday her adulthood seemed a thousand years away.

This relentless tug on my heart may never let up, but it's a tug that pulls me to Him and forces me to pay attention as He shows me His ways and teaches me trust. So once again, I'll simply let go ...

and let God.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28




May 1999

 


c

October 2009

 

 




Madison & Lulu - October 2011

 

258. the smile on her face

259. the smile in her heart

260. her present came in on time after all

261. chocolate cake for breakfast

262. burrowing down in the covers on cold mornings

263. and I didn't have to pay for the air conditioning

264. because it's finally cold outside

265. Rangers made it to the World series

266. his foot isn't broken

267. what I thought was strep was only a cold

268. I'm going to Blissdom!

269. my new phone is coming in today

270. an email from the Nester ... yes, the Nester!!

271. a fun pep rally

272. a lazy dog

273. a lazy Saturday morning

274. Instagrams - so much fun:)

275. I'm going on a shopping trip with Jace this week and we're gonna have a blast! Amen.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

Thanks for sticking with me this month. <3

31 Days: #10 Legalism

This past Wednesday night I stayed home from church, and I didn't really have a good reason to except that I was tired and just wanted some time to myself.

So I sent the kids on and settled in for a relaxing evening, but it wasn't long before the guilt crept in. It's the same guilt that has kept me faithful as a church attendee for my entire adulthood.

So as that oppressive cloud settled in over me and squelched my plans for the night, I pondered what was really going on and thought about all the ways I've let this guilt control me in the past. It's a wonderful thing to attend church every time the doors are open. And I suppose that if one has no other motivation, going out of sense of duty is better than not going at all.

But guilt as a motivator doesn't set well with me anymore. I'm tired of failing to measure up to this unspoken list of legalistic standards. I'm weary of trying to adhere to the very rules Jesus died to obliterate. Who is this judge that guilt-trips me, anyway?

I'm thinking it's me. So I hereby reject legalism in favor of just plain loving Jesus.

Lord, may I pay my tithe not out of obligation, but because I love You and want to further the ministry of Your Kingdom ...  

May I serve You not because I can't say no, but because it brings me joy to use the gifts You've given me ...  

May I find my identity not in my past, but in You. So what if I've been divorced before? Your blood has washed me holy-white and I don't have to answer to anybody for it (including the Church) ...  

May I look at others not in judgment, but with eyes of compassion. May I see them as You do and love them with Your love ... 

May I never again drag my exhausted self to church out of guilt, but let me go instead because I crave fellowship with Your people and I'm absolutely desperate for Your rejuvenating presence ...

So bring on the conviction, Lord, but may the self-condemnation be gone forever, in Jesus name. 

I'm done with religion. You don't need it when you have relationship.

For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death. Romans 8:2

231. I gave my talk and God showed up

232. three-day weekends

233. thundershowers

234. new friends

235. welcoming hearts

236. friends you can text "PRAY" to and they will, even if they don't know why

237. new curtains and how they can transform a room

238. His leading

239. quiet days to myself

240. Pier One and Pottery Barn catalogs (I can always dream)

241. He set me free

245. reconnecting with old friends

246. pears

247. seafood enchiladas at Rockfish (heavenly)

248. deep, dreamless sleep

249. a rekindled desire to eat healthfully

250. the sound of RAIN hitting the roof, and once again drought is ended. Amen.

.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here

31 Days: #8 Nerves

I am not a speaker. 

I'm a teacher, and kids I can do, but adults are a different story. Yet I'm getting ready to speak to a women's group this morning at a church here in town.

I've prayed about this for months, and I'm prepared with a God-given message. I love to talk and have plenty to say about all the amazing things the Lord has done for me. And I know the Holy Spirit empowers us to carry out what He's called us to do. So I know these things, but I'm nervous anyway. 

What if I lose my train of thought? What if they can tell I have an attention deficit? What if they hate my accent? What if I spill my guts and say too much? What if I don't say enough, or leave out some of the most important points? 

I could go on and on, but I know it's just nerves. I do know the truth. I know He honors our obedience, and that He can use the least likely person on the planet to further His kingdom. I trust Him to give me the perfect words to say.

So around 8:30 a.m., could you utter a little prayer for me and for the gathering of women who'll be listening? Pray I'll get myself out of the way and speak only His words, and that I'll somehow be able to articulate His goodness and His mercy and the abundant life we can find in Him. And of course, please help me pray my nerves away.

And if you're reading this after the fact, please pray anyway ... that the words He's spoken through me will continue to have an impact and that hearts be turned toward Him and lives changed in however small a way.

Thank you.

He has put a new song in my mouth--praise to our God; many will see it and fear, and will trust in the Lord.  Psalm 40:3 

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

Giving up coffee to share my Bread

Words. I'm in love with them, and I attribute this fondness to a mother who read to me before I could speak and to a father who bought me classics before I could understand.

So I grew up around more books than I knew what to do with, and nothing changed once I got out on my own. I went and filled up every last bookshelf in my home and ran out of room and then ventured into e-book territory and had to have a Kindle. In college I majored in English because I just didn't like anything else. I figured at least English majors get to read and write.

If you'd asked me as a child what the most important book in our home was, I would have said "the Bible" because I knew that was the correct answer. But the ugly truth is that although I loved to read, I didn't much like reading the Word of God. I had Sunday school teachers who were more than happy to tell me what it said, but to read it myself was a chore that I found ... well, boring.

So once I grew out of an oppressive obligation to learn my weekly memory verse, I bore the shame as a teen of not having the quiet times I knew I should. And then I became the wife and mom who tried to do it all better by reading lots and lots of devotionals.

Only, when I read all those amazing devotionals, I skipped right over the scriptures and moved straight onto the personal stories of the writers. And in doing so, I skipped over the only words that really matter.

And then tragedy raged in and ripped me apart, and I stood confused and alone in the smoldering ruins of my life. And I looked around and had no earthly idea where to go next. I wasn't exactly equipped to face my uncertain future since I'd hidden very little of the Word in my heart.

But out of the ash heap, what did I reach for? Ironically, those life-giving Words I'd neglected my entire life, because there was nothing else to hold onto. Everything was different and suddenly I couldn't bear life without the steadfast, enduring Word of God.

And so that Book I'd taken for granted for so long, the bestselling Book of all time, became my constant companion. I reached for it first thing each morning. I devoured its contents throughout the day. I carried it in my purse when I left the house. I even held it close to me in sleep each night.

I couldn't face the future without the promises of all things made new. I couldn't find peace without the reassurance that He's in control. I couldn't get a deep breath without inhaling those Words of Christ in red. I couldn't be satisfied until I'd feasted on pages that gushed His endless, unfathomable Grace.

And in clinging to those precious Words, I found the Truth that turns everything around, no matter who you are or where you've been or what you've done or what you've lost. And once you've truly tasted the Bread of Life, you can't get enough of Him.

This week I became aware of a new kind of poverty. I knew people were starving for food, but I'd never thought the fact that they don't have Bibles. They're hungry not just for bread, but for The Bread, and yet have no access to it in their native language.

And 66% of Christians rarely or never read their Bible? Lord, forgive me for ever taking Your Word for granted.

I stumbled upon a website, OneVerse (affiliated with Wycliffe Bible Translators), whose mission is to see to it that every soul on earth has the Scriptures available to them in a language that speaks to their hearts. As I read the stories of those who've never ever held a Bible or heard the Gospel, and then when I imagined myself in such a place, my heart broke.

And I wondered, Where would I be without the Word of God? How could I face the aching of this life without His promises? What would my purpose be without a knowledge of His saving grace and the hope He offers for eternal life? What if I'd never, ever heard the Gospel?

Yet 353 million people have no access to Scripture translated into their native language. And that makes me want to do what I can to share my Bread and help end Bible poverty in my own small way.

I’ve learned that a person can have one verse translated for the small sacrifice of four or five Starbucks drinks in a month. So I'm totally in. Are you?

Go ye therefore and teach all nations ... Matthew 28:1

Lessons learned in days gone by

On the day I was born, my mom tells me that one of the first things my dad did was look at my hands. He had high hopes that I would grow up to play the piano, so he was checking to see how long my fingers were.

Lesson #1: Some men look at a girl's hands first before anything else.

When I was two, I smashed my fingers in a stroller. My dad freaked out, and my parents took me to the emergency room even though I'm sure money must've been tight back then. (Anything to preserve a future music career, I guess.)

Lesson #2: Fingers are really important. Take care of them.

Some of my earliest memories are of sitting with my dad on the piano bench, playing the high notes with my pointer fingers as he made his music. He let me play along to my heart's content as long as I didn't bang. (I thought I was really good.)

Lesson #3: Banging isn't good for pianos.
Lesson #4: Let your kids express their creativity even when it sounds terrible.

Once I was old enough for piano lessons, my frugal father decided to teach me himself. This new student/teacher arrangement lasted for approximately half a lesson. He asked me to clap a rhythm but I wouldn't cooperate, so I ended up in the time-out chair, and he ended up walking out of the lesson. (From that day on, he paid someone else to teach me piano lessons.)

Lesson #5: Don't try to give your own kids piano lessons. They will drive you crazy, and you will lose your temper. Period.

Nowadays I'm so thankful I learned how to play ... so thankful the Lord sees fit to use me in worship ministry. After my recent post about Fanny Crosby, I remembered a little devotional I wrote soon after I graduated from college. It was inspired by one of my most cherished F. Crosby hymns. I wrote about using our gifts in service to God and about memories of my Daddy's beautiful piano playing. If you know my family well, then you understand what I'm talking about ...

Sunday, December 1, 1996

I am blessed to have been reared in a home filled with beautiful music. As a child, I used to sit under my father's piano and listen to him make the sweetest music in the world. I still love to hear him play. I marvel at the way his fingers move so gracefully and effortlessly across the keyboard, producing the most glorious sounds on earth. Those sounds are precious to me. Yet even more precious are the messages behind those familiar old hymns I've so often heard him play. 

     Consecrate me now to they service Lord, by the power of grace divine; 

     Let my soul look up with a steadfast hope, and my will be lost in Thine.

-- "I Am Thine, O Lord", Fanny Crosby 1820-1915

Each of us has been blessed with our own unique gifts and talents, and God expects us to use and cultivate them in service to Him. How sweet it is to know that when we use these gifts to serve Him to our fullest potential, He draws us nearer to Him, to the cross, and to His "precious, bleeding side".

I cringe a little when I read stuff I wrote way-back-when because I see countless ways I could've made my stories more compelling. Yet reading this reminds me of just how richly the Lord blessed me when He allowed me to be born into a music-filled home--but even more than that, how blessed I am to have grown up watching my parents use their gifts to serve the Lord. I thank God for their example.

Lesson #6: Your kids are watching you closely, so be sure the example you set won't come back to bite you.

Today my home continues to be filled with music. Am I a professional musician? Hardly. But I'm still playing ... and my daughter sings like an angel and plays guitar ... and my son is the coolest drummer I know ... and the twins are both starting band this year (okay, so the music in our house might be less than beautiful for awhile, but we'll get through it).

Lesson #7: We serve a God who loves to bless us with the things we enjoy most.

One of my most fervent prayers is that my four kids will remain faithful in using their gifts to serve the Lord all the days of their lives. I could burst with happiness at the prospect ... and truly, I can think of no greater legacy to leave behind.

May I be just the example they need. Amen.

When God picks your seat

A cute girl in a trendy business suit sat across the aisle from me. I kept glancing her way, and I could've sworn she was looking at me, too. I wanted to ask her why she was headed to North Carolina, but I didn't have the nerve.

As I rehearsed the conversation I would have in my publisher meeting later that day, I stole another glance her way. It looked like she was reading some sort of article about pitching a book. I had to close one eye to see because I only had one contact in (I can be nosey sometimes).

I was starting to get a headache from looking sideways so long, but I watched as she folded her article up and put it away. Next, she took her glasses off to take a nap ... and then I recognized her. She was the girl I'd connected with on Facebook a few days earlier! We'd made a deal to critique/edit each other's first chapters for our book proposals. I knew she was from the Dallas area, but I never asked about her flight information. It turns out she chose the same airline as me and the same flight as me ... and God chose our seats.

I finally spoke. "Um, are you going to a conference?"

"Yes ...."

"Sarah??"

"AMY??!!"

Both of us: "OH MY GOSH!!!"  I don't know about Sarah, but by the flight's end, my throat hurt from talking so much. It was a delightful flight.

It was the first in a weekend full of God-moments.

It's funny how things change. When I left town for this conference (She Speaks 2011), I was on a mission to find a publisher and get a book deal (you can read about it here). By the time I hopped on the flight to come home, a book deal really was the last thing on my mind.

I'm not completely sure how that happened. My publisher meetings went okay (who really knows what'll happen? ... it's a waiting game that can take weeks). But while I was there, the Lord confirmed to me that if He's laid a message on my heart, He will provide opportunities to get it out. It might be through a book, but it might not be--and I'm okay with that. I do love to write and will continue as He leads.

But back to my weekend ... it's hard to describe it, except to say that the Lord made His presence known in tangible and amazing ways, and I just soaked it in ... the speakers, the girl time, the books, the hotel room, the teachings, the food, the laughter, the tears, the connections, the worship ....

My crazy friend of 20 years, Rhonda (we laughed our
heads off all weekend! Well, and cried a lot, too!)

I couldn't even blog about it all when I first got home because I was too overwhelmed (in a good way). The two most important things I took away:

1) I've surrendered my own plans to Him. I want His plans rather than my own because His ways are perfect, and He knows far better than I do what's best for me. A long time ago He promised me beauty for ashes--and He knows perfectly well how to make my life beautiful. After all, He is the Creator of beauty. I will let Him do His work in me, and I will not interfere. I really won't. I'm done trying to make things happen on my own strength.

2) I'm determined to live my life with a grateful heart. I will thank Him, no matter what. I've always been taught to thank Him in all things ... and even in all the trials of my life over these past few years, I've found tons of reasons to be thankful. But I had come to a point where I'd stopped looking for new reasons (you can read my revelation about gratitude here.) My new mission in life is to find things to celebrate even in the cruddiest moments of life.

To sum it up, it was a weekend unlike anything I've ever experienced ...  I pray I'll be able to remember and apply all the great information I learned ... I pray I'll always hold on to the things the Lord showed me while I was away ... and I pray He'll let me go again next year!

For now, I'm thankful I get to be home and hug my kids (and B!) and pet my doggies. Even if the trip was wonderful, it's always good to come back home. If you prayed for me while I was away, THANK YOU. :)

I get a getaway :)

Just two more sleeps ... and then early Friday morning I'm bound for North Carolina. I'm attending courses on the writers' track of She Speaks, and I'm also meeting with an agent and a publisher on Friday to pitch my book. In the past week, I've learned that writing a nonfiction book proposal hurts more than writing an actual book.

In fact, these past two days have been filled with all sorts of pain. In addition to nearly cutting my finger off on a shard of broken flower pot, I took my second chapter to my critique group last night. I didn't expect to be rewriting anything this late in the game, but I was so thrilled with their suggestions that time suddenly didn't matter all that much. I couldn't wait to change things up and make them better.

So, sporting my Strawberry Shortcake Band-aid, my fingers flew over the keys almost all day long--and I'm much happier now with what I'm taking with me to North Carolina. Someone said once that writing a book is like having a baby elephant, only a book hurts worse. I think they were right.

My final surge of pain came tonight when I got a migraine after sending my query, proposal, and sample chapters to a friend for editing. I'd let a few others read it already, but not anybody I have to face on a regular basis (at least not during the summertime).

I'm praying for God's will in the publishing process. At the very least, it's been good for me to be writing something. And also at the very least, even if nothing comes of my publisher appointments this Friday, I'll get to go on a girl trip and attend a great conference, in a place where God is sure to show up. :)

Say a little prayer for me?

Lately my mind keeps wandering back to my life's scripture, Psalm 40:1-3:

I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry. He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my steps. He has put a new song in my mouth--praise to our God; many will see it and fear, and will trust in the Lord.

I would love to be published, but what matters above all else is that He has rescued me and established my steps, and nowadays I really do sing a new song. I pray that many will indeed "see it and fear, and will trust in the Lord." So whether He accomplishes His purpose in me through a blog or a book or by word-of-mouth, I know He knows best, and I am in Good Hands. :)

Do you have the "write" degree?

I dedicate this post to a friend of mine (you know who you are...). It's kind of funny. My friend and I are both writers, and we are also both musicians. I was an English major, and she was a music major.

My friend is a great writer, but she's not crazy about letting me read what she writes. She always points out that I'm the one with the degree in English...that I'm the one who knows about clauses....that I'm the one who understands active/passive voice...etc., etc., etc.

I understand how she feels. It took me a while to get the guts up to play in front of her. It can be intimidating playing in front of someone with a music degree when you've never had formal musical training. But she's always said that it doesn't matter. I protest because of all I don't know. I don't always follow the rules of musicianship...I don't know how to stack chords...I never studied music theory...etc., etc., etc. Sometimes I just feel inadequate around professional musicians.

Likewise, I suppose she feels intimidated letting me read her writings because she doesn't have the same training I have (which is kind of comical since I earned most of my degree reading Masterplots summaries and Cliff's Notes rather than studying the actual works themselves).

The fact is, our education doesn't always necessarily match up with our calling. My friend is a writer without an English degree. I'm a musician without a music degree. But you know what? The Holy Spirit anoints my music anyway. He anoints her writing anyway. He equips us and empowers us to do what He's called us to do. All it takes is for us to humble ourselves and then say "Use me, Lord".

Who cares if we don't have a clue what transformational generative grammar is? Who cares if we can't explain why the world needs something called the circle of fifths? I'll just keep on abusing ellipses and playing strange chord progressions as He leads me. I'll trust Him and keep my heart open to new possibilities. I invite Him to do with me as he pleases. The Lord doesn't care what degree I have. My incompetence is His competence. His strength is made perfect in my weakness. Pretty cool, when you think about it. He's a pretty awesome God. :)

So he answered and said to me: "This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel: 'Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,' says the Lord of Hosts. 

- Zechariah 4:6 NKJV

The healing room

"...and by His stripes, we are healed." Isaiah 53:5

I've experienced unbelievable warfare in the past couple of weeks, and now I know why. Yesterday is a day I will never forget. Yesterday I was healed.

Last night I took off from serving on my praise team to attend a worship service that my boyfriend, "B", was helping to lead. It was quite a ways away, so as we were driving, he talked to me about some things. I am so thankful for his boldness in talking to me even though he knows my tendency to react emotionally. I can be a hand full, but he is always very tender in the way he prays for me and encourages me. And yesterday he knew I was in need of some ministry. (Did I mention how wonderful he is?!)

He encouraged me to be careful about the things I speak. He's noticed some negativity coming out of my mouth. Not toward him, necessarily, but just about my life in general--about my past, about the kids, about the way things are for us now, and about the future. So he talked to me about the power of the spoken word and about how important it is not to speak negatively about the things I am praying for.

He helped me realize that I am likely placing limits on God by the things I say. He gave me a scripture, and he made me read it aloud, slowly, twice. :) He also had me count how many times  the word "says" occurs...

For assuredly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be removed and be cast into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that those things he says will be done, he will have whatever he says. Therefore I say to you, whatever things you ask when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them.  Mark 11:23-24 NKJV

I could see immediately that even in the times that I do have faith, I talk myself out of believing that what I'm asking for will come to pass because of the negative words that I speak. But according to this scripture, proclaiming that God is going to move in my life is as important as believing it.

I think that many times we as Christians limit God because of our intellect and level of education. But His power is beyond our understanding, and our expectancy can't possibly reach the degree of His ability to move in our lives. How could it? God is infinitely powerful, and He can do anything He wants to do, but we are trying to understand Him with our finite minds. It's beyond our capability to truly comprehend the magnitude of His power.

But on the other hand, what's the point of asking God for something and then proceeding to talk about how it'll likely never happen? That's just plain silly. But it's exactly what I've done.

B talked about the many, many people who come to Christ when evangelists and missionaries travel to third-world countries. People receive the gospel there more easily. They receive healing. To them, these things aren't far-fetched at all. Some would say that people who live in those places don't know as much as we do, but I say they know more. Sometimes intellect just gets in the way.

It was one of those life-changing, Spirit-led discussions. As it turned out, this conversation was a segue into another one of equal importance.

We got to the church, and I met the pastor and his wife. B went in to rehearse with the band, and I got a tour of the church. I got to see their prayer room, and it was beautiful. B had already told me how cool it was, but I didn't get what he meant. When I walked into that little room, I was overcome. I felt a rushing of the Holy Spirit the moment I entered in, and I was immediately brought to tears. His presence simply amazed me, as it always does. We only stayed for a minute, then I went into the pastor's study and talked to him for bit.

I commented on how much I liked the cowboy-themed decor of his office, but the conversation quickly turned serious and he began to talk about losing his father in an accident when he was only seven (his dad's name was "Cowboy"). Every time I meet someone who has lost their father at a young age--especially a deeply spiritual person or someone in ministry--I always ask questions. I want to know what it was like for them growing up as a fatherless child. I like to ask them how God filled the void and what circumstances led them to where they are now. So I went to questioning.

I'm not even sure how it happened, but this conversation moved into the same topic as my earlier discussion with B. The pastor talked about how important our words are. He emphasized the importance of how we pray and the things we verbalize. Then he talked about our faith and how we must believe that we will receive the things we ask for through prayer.

I'm really not sure of everything that was said. When the Holy Spirit speaks through one person to another, the details of the conversation aren't always easy to recall. It's the message He pours into the heart of the recipient that matters. And I was very blessed to be on the receiving end.

The next thing I knew, the pastor's wife and I were back in the prayer room, and she was praying for healing for me. She asked me to listen to God and to let her know what He wants to heal me of. I named something, and she prayed. But then her prayer went into other areas of struggle that I hadn't mentioned. I was amazed at how the Holy Spirit was prompting her to pray. Then she began to proclaim that Jesus has covered all my past hurts, all the horrible memories, all the consequences of past decisions, even all the blame I've carried, placed on me by self and others. It's all under the Blood, and I am covered.

And the shackles fell.

This sweet pastor's wife had only just met me...I hadn't told her details...but she prayed as the Spirit led, and God healed me. The burden of all that I've been wrestling with for so long has been lifted. I AM HEALED. I've prayed for healing...now I've received it...I believe it...and I proclaim it, in Jesus' name!

I finally get it

Several years ago, a teacher at my school was suffering through a painful divorce. She and I talked often since I'd been through it, too. Her husband was in ministry, and I could see that she'd been an excellent helpmate for him. Deeply spiritual, she would talk to me about how her faith was growing and how she was learning to let God fill her void.

During a chat one day, she said something like "You know how it is...the Lord becomes your Husband." I nodded in agreement with her. But in my mind I was thinking, I have no earthly idea what she's talking about.

I never thought about that conversation again until recently. Now, years later, I think about how sad it is that I didn't seek God with passion during that season of my life. Yes, I prayed, but I didn't seek His will. Instead, I asked Him to give me what I wanted and then plunged right in, never really listening to what He had to say about it. Oh, the heartache I could've avoided if only I had sought Him....

I'm told that when one writes a book, it's ideal to speak from a platform. I've been praying about this, and at last, I think my platform is springing forth out of the ash heap. My passion is to see others seek God in times of pain and tragedy. We must seek Him every day, even when life is going smoothly.

But when the times get hard and the fear, discouragement, and loneliness set in, for some reason it's so tempting to run somewhere else besides Him. I don't know why that is, but if I've learned anything, it's that He is always there, no matter what. We can't always say that about the people we love and depend on, but we can say it about Him. He will not fail us under any circumstances.

My most popular post of all time continues to be one I wrote on this subject, about how He fills the void in my life. People need to know this about Him--that He is waiting to fill us and bless us abundantly. But we have to make room for Him.

I want hurting people to know that He's the one they can turn to when their situation becomes desperate. It's futile to look for our worth, identity, or fulfillment in another person, but looking to the Lord Jesus is a different story altogether. He is the only One in Whom we can find strength, love, rest, redemption, grace, mercy...you name it, He provides it. There is no way we'll be shortchanged when we let Him fill the void. He wants to make up for all we've lost, as well as all we never had in the first place.

And those who know Your name will put their trust in You; for You, Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You.  Psalm 9:10 

Power came down (and Heaven IS for real)

Once in awhile, God grants us the precious opportunity to witness His awesome power at work in a literal sense before our eyes.

For me one of these times was during a sermon at my old church. My pastor was the victim of an extremely aggressive form of lymphoma, and his illness required him to endure treatments that all but killed him. But the faithful shepherd that he was, he had pledged to his congregation and to his God that he would be there to preach every single Sunday he found it humanly possible to do so.

One Sunday morning, though, he was almost too weak to walk to the stool waiting for him at the pulpit. But he managed and perched there at his usual spot. He began to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. Crying weakly, he opened with prayer. I clearly remember his desperate plea for the Lord to help him. He simply did not have the strength to accomplish what he wanted so badly to do.

But he persisted in prayer, and his voice began to grow stronger. Then, as he started preaching, the anointing came in. His voice became like normal. His presence was commanding. His words pierced my heart. It wasn't long before he was standing and pacing the platform, the way he always did. Tears flowed among the people.

The Lord did a mighty work that day, and my pastor preached one of the most amazing messages I've ever heard. I had the honor of witnessing the power of God literally at work in front of me, moving in the lives of a devoted servant and his congregation. God showed up that day, and it's a precious memory I'll always cherish.

Yesterday I read Heaven is for Real. So many things continue to swirl in my mind today, but I can't quit thinking about chapter 23, "Power from Above". I'm still in awe after reading what Colton tells his mother Sonja about God's power. They were about to pray for Colton's father Todd, a pastor, that he would deliver a good message in church that week...

Colton: "I've seen power shot down to Daddy."
Sonja: "What do you mean, Colton?"
Colton: "Jesus shoots power down for Daddy when he's talking."
Sonja: "Okay ... when? Like when Daddy talks at church?"
Colton: "Yeah, at church. When he's telling Bible stories to people."

Later, Todd asks him about this Power from above.

Todd: "... Can you you tell me what you were telling Mommy about ... about Jesus shooting down power? What's the power like?"

Colton: "It's the Holy Spirit. I watched Him. He showed me."

Todd: "The Holy Spirit?"

Colton: "Yeah. He shoots down power for you for when you're talking in church."

Of Colton's memory, Todd writes:

Every Sunday morning before I give the sermon, I pray a similar prayer: "God, if you don't help this morning, this message is going to fail." In light of Colton's words, I realized I had been praying without really knowing what I was praying for. And to imagine God answering it by "shooting down power" ... well, it was just incredible. (126)

Like most Christians, I know what it's like to need the power of God behind me when I set out to do something I'm not prepared for. It's a scary thing to open my mouth to speak to someone who needs comfort or ministry, only to find that no words will come.

But I also know what it's like to have the Holy Spirit meet me right where I am to give me His wisdom when I ask for it. I know how it feels when the words begin to flow supernaturally as He speaks through me. Those are the only words of benefit to others anyway!

But the anointing which you have received from Him abides in you, and you do not need that anyone teach you; but as the same anointing teaches you concerning all things, and is true, and is not a lie, and just as it has taught you, you will abide in Him.  1 John 2:27 NKJV

I thank God that when I am too weak or ignorant to be any good on my own, I can trust the Holy Spirit for His anointing, whether I'm speaking, teaching, worshiping, or simply ministering to a friend. Even greater, I have the assurance that He actually hears and responds to my cries. He empowers me to fulfill His calling on my life.

Lord, thank You that You always know exactly when to show up. Continue to shoot Your power down to me. You know how much I need You!

Burpo, Todd. Heaven is for real: A little boy's astounding story of his trip to Heaven and back. Thomas Nelson: Nashville, 2010.

Peace, be still

Thunderstorms scare me to death. They always have, from the time I was little. I used to wake up in the night during storms as a child and run to my parents' room to crawl in bed with them. They had a big bay window that made the lightning look even scarier. Still, it was better than being alone.

I hadn't thought about my old habit of doing that for a very long time. But then one night around two years ago, I found myself sleeping between my parents again. I felt like a child that night in my thirty-seven-year-old body. This was a very different type of storm, much more severe than any I had weathered before---one that made me doubt I would ever see clear skies again. I had tried to rest that night, but sleep eluded me. When my dad heard me still up, he took me and put me in his spot in the bed with my mother, and then he slept in his chair right next to me. I relaxed a little being between them like that, but still I knew this storm was indeed a terrible one, and it wasn't going to blow away for quite some time.

With all the recent storms in our North Texas area, I've thought a lot lately about that scenario. I have wonderful parents, but despite their burning desire to fix all that was wrong in my life, there was very little they could do. The bigger storms of life call for an even bigger God, and I'm thankful I have my God Almighty to help me weather those tumultuous times that are just too horrific to endure alone.

I've also thought lately about another huge storm that occurred a couple of weeks following the night I've just described. Grief-stricken over the recent events in my life, I was on my way to visit a new church. I didn't feel like going, but a friend had invited me and had said that her pastor and some others wanted to pray for me. Not wanting to refuse prayer at a time like this, I forged ahead and determined to go in spite of some impending bad weather. Little did I know that God had big plans for our family regarding our future in this church. And it was all to begin on this night. No wonder a storm was brewing.

The heavy winds and rain were already blowing in as I arrived, and I ran into the sanctuary soaked and freezing. By the time the service began, it was pouring rain and thundering more loudly than I had ever heard before. I was absolutely terrified, and I remember thinking Why on earth is this storm scaring me so badly after all I've just been through? I don't understand what's wrong with me! But in the midst of all the distraction of that storm, the congregation began to worship. And then the Holy Spirit fell---and my fear left immediately. Suddenly I didn't care about the thunder anymore. I didn't care about the strong winds or the heavy rains. I just wanted to savor the presence of the Lord because in that place and on that night, in the midst of the turmoil both outdoors and in my heart, He brought peace to His wounded child. He surrounded me, He fell upon me, He filled me. Peace, be still. I'll never forget what His peace felt like in that moment; it was indescribable. He was helping me learn to run into the shelter of His presence when the downpour got to be more than I could bear.


Mar 4:39  He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Peace, be still!" And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.

Just when I think my skies are clear, and just when I begin to take fair weather for granted, those pesky clouds blow in again. More often than I'd like, it storms. The conditions vary greatly in severity, but no matter whether the clouds bring a light shower or a raging tempest, I know where I can find Peace.


Mar 4:41 And they feared exceedingly, and said to one another, "Who can this be, that even the wind and the sea obey Him!"

I'm thankful I don't have to ask "Who can this be?". I know exactly Who He is. He is my Shelter, my Strong Tower, the Calmer of My Storms. When my soul is in turmoil, He cares more than I could ever comprehend. He is faithful to rescue me from the pandemonium. Miracles happen when He speaks words of peace over me.

I still don't like storms. However, I have come to appreciate them because they allow me the privilege of experiencing His wondrous peace in the midst of chaos. As unpleasant as they are, I do not have to be afraid of storms. Peace, be still.

He meets me there

Romans 8:26 Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

I remember the first time I felt the presence of the Lord—and I mean really, truly experienced Him as Comforter and knew in the depths of my soul that He was there in the room with me. It was the darkest night of my life, because earlier in the day I had learned that I was the focus of my husband’s death investigation. My school district had no choice but to send me home until things were resolved, and I knew I would not be allowed to come back to work for the remainder of the school year. So in addition to the heart-wrenching grief that came from the kind of loss I had suffered, I was now faced with the possibility of going to prison for a crime I did not commit. I was terrified for myself, and even more so for my kids. This was one of those points we come to in life in which there truly are no words to articulate the kind of prayer that needs to be prayed.

But in my anguish I remembered the Bible telling me that the Holy Spirit intercedes for us in times like these with groanings that cannot be uttered. That was what I needed that night—prayer much deeper than mere words—so I began to claim that scripture. Alone in my dad’s little study, the pitiful mess that I was, I began to cry out to God and beg the Holy Spirit to intercede for me. I begged.  I’ll never forget what He did. He came and met me there in that little room, right in that very moment. I felt Him literally cover my entire body, from head to toe. I didn’t need to see Him or hear Him. He was just there, and I sensed His presence to the depths of my being. It was really the first time I ever knew Him as Comforter, and I can’t describe the peace I experienced in His presence on that awful, awful night. The next morning I was amazed by phone calls we received from loved ones who knew nothing of our latest news, yet had been burdened to pray for me through the night. I’m thankful they were obedient, even though they didn’t know the full extent of the reason they were praying. That’s how the Holy Spirit works. He comforts me, He intercedes for me, and He burdens others to intercede for me.

There have been many such times since that experience. I know my family and friends love me, but there are simply times when no one understands because no one else is walking in my shoes. When I am in my most heartsick state of despair and there is nothing to do but weep and I feel utterly alone in the world, the Holy Spirit meets me there and comforts me. He reminds me that I am never, ever alone. And He continues to burden others to pray for me in those times when I desperately need prayer the most. He never ceases to amaze me. That’s why I take it to heart when I am burdened to pray for someone else, or maybe a name comes to mind and I just can’t let go of it. We never know what someone else is going through, and I am honored that He would choose me to make intercession for someone who needs it.

He always meets me there in those moments when I desperately need comfort, and He’ll meet you there, too.


Lord, thank you for making a way for us to experience Your presence through the gift of your precious Holy Spirit. Thank You that You intercede for me, and thank You that You burden others to make intercession for me. Help me to live my life in a way that never quenches Your Spirit, but rather extends to You an open invitation to make Yourself real and present to me every day.