The Tsunami of my life

Today I had a few minutes and by a few I mean forty minutes.  Forty minutes between laundry, cleaning my car, sharing the computer with the college student, making sure the dogs took their medicine and picking my husband up for a lunch date.  Got onto my blog and realized it has almost been a month since I was on.  How atrocious, it is only May and I have gone from wanting to write every day, to committing to write once a week to now almost a month since my last entry!  What happened?  A tsunami of life, happened.  Swept away in the tide of my crazy, wonderful and sometimes intense life.  I have been focused on work and people and forgot to make time to focus on myself.  Anyone know what I am talking about? 
Cleaning my wood floor in increments because I don't have the time or energy to clean it fully all in one time, so therefor it is never fully clean.  I think it may be an illustration of my life....bit by bit but never fully finished.  Scripture teaches us that we are being changed from Glory to Glory.  It causes me to think about the bit by bit part.  The tedious work that seems to bring no visible outcome until I suddenly realize I have finished every inch of the giant wood floor.  It is already dirty again where I started, I sigh with the mop in one hand and start over again for a few brief minutes in between the mad rush of my crazy, beautiful life.  I think about Jesus washing me clean daily and then my daily life dirtying me up again. I wonder if He sighs too at the thought of washing me clean again as I lay my head on my pillow and ask for His forgiveness for the careless words I spoke, the selfishness that manifested, the irratation that arose.
Perhaps unlike me he is awaiting a spot or blemish to appear so that he can quickly cover it with His grace.  When I am at the church in our bathroom with the lovely tile floor, I love to mop.  It is so easy, a small area that quickly gets footprints all over it and I step in and am the hero as I quickly and easily swiffer it clean.  That is what I imagine it is like for Jesus, a quick and easy washing that must feel rewarding to Him.  Like a parent who washes tiny little hands in the sink and then smiles and says, all clean now.  That parent is genuinely happy to see that child washed clean. I long to manage my life well, but more than that I long to love people well and it seems the two don't go well together.  There is always someone who needs attention, something that must be completed, vision that must be fulfilled and the day to day chores lose out in the battle of ministry and housecleaning.
Jesus never loses in that personal battle in our hearts.  He cleans house daily in our hearts, lives there rent free and only ask that we be at work making daily improvements. He picks up the mop and cleans the whole thing and says today is a fresh start.  He gives a warning as any parent does, He instructs us not to make a mess.  Then sometimes by the end of the day I realize I have made a mess again and I sigh and think how thankful I am that Jesus never tires of cleaning my heart.  He loves me and is taking me from Glory to Glory, and trust me that aint easy.  He is my spiritual Mr. Clean and He never fails me, thank God. No matter how destructive the forces seem to have been in the Tsunami of my life He comes along returns everything to its rightful position(including me) washes my heart clean and trust me to start fresh again on a new day.  Today, will be a slightly cleaner day than yesterday.  I think.

For the extrordinary women in my life...

You are an extrordinary woman.                                                                                                        How can you expect anything ordinary to happen to you.                   

                                                                                 Louisa May Alcott

Extrordinary living is not easy and ministry is not without it's cost, but the reward is great! I salute you beautiful women who bravely stitch heaven and earth together.  My friends that are called to Kingdom work(and who's not?) please don't lose heart, this world is full of messy living in an imperfect world. Breathe in the hope of glory, press toward the goal of life and love.  Take joy in the simple graces that come every day and step out into your destiny.   What choice is there for those that are called?  Who could ignore the Lord of Lords?  Today you are standing on the edge, renew your hope and step out. God has prepared the way and He has equipped you for every new thing. 

"If I find in myself desires in which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world"

C. S. Lewis

How long will we be silent?

CADE: Christians Actively Demolishing Exploitation
cadetogether.com

I have had the privilege and honor of being involved with CADE since its conception.  I use the words privilege and honor because there are no other words that come to mind.  As a pastor I get to walk with people through some of their most difficult moments, but as a member of CADE I get to walk with women away from their most difficult moments.  Women who have been wounded and damaged but not destroyed, women who know true pain in the most severe of ways.  Their hearts have been stained with years of abuse, most of them since they were small children.   Their lifestyles full of degradation, not a choice but rather a reflection of how they have been failed by their families and by the system.  These women have been living as slaves instead of as precious daughters and friends. Girls robbed at a young age of innocence and safety, hardened by the disappointments of a life lived on the streets and controlled by men who see their worth as only a commodity to fill their pockets.  These girls and women that are someone’s daughters and in some cases someone’s mother are devalued and demeaned.  How can anyone not look into their faces and see the dreams of what could have been and still could be.  Hard faces that hide hearts that are broken and fearful.  Hearts that have long since hardened up, in order to protect themselves, because it is better to feel nothing, than to feel the gnawing unfulfilled promise of destiny.  Better to feel nothing, than to feel the loss of innocence or the betrayal of family.  Better to stay numb through drugs and alcohol, than to feel the ongoing pain of a body being used for others pleasure.  Victims, I see victims that deserve an opportunity to be victorious.   I see women that deserve the opportunity to be treated with kindness, respect and honor.   I see women that with enough love and support can be victorious.  I cannot change the world, but what a privilege to be able to help change one life.  To help restore value and virtue to one who has been denied it by a set of unfair life circumstances.  There but for the grace of God go I, and so I call this a privilege and an honor to be able to serve the daughters of a perverse generation with the love of the King. 
 

Thirty days, hard pressed but victorious!

Not sure if I am done with her yet....

It occured to me yesterday that it had been thirty days since my life started this spiral into the darkness (I know I am so dramatic).  I know we all go through dark times but this....well this was exceptionally hard.  When someone would ask how I was, I found myself unable to answer with a positive reply.  My heart was so heavy for friends that had suffered loss (3 funerals) and for lives that would never be as they had hoped.  To be positive in the realm of so much pain it seemed almost as if I would be betraying them.  And so I stayed in the darkness alongside them, visiting and calling.  My husbands health once again in a questionable state, the darkness ebbed even closer in my brain.  Feeling foggy even in the midst of my God(for I know He is always there).   Darkness is subtle it comes step by step, closer and closer until before you know it you are completely covered by it.  By the way, it is not unspiritual to struggle with depression.  Great people of the Bible struggled with depression during times of great disappointment.  Thirty days I was hard pressed on all sides, boxed in by compassion and empathy for others.  Oh sure, the sun would come out for a moment or two but for the most part it was just dark. 

I don't know why I couldn't find the sunshine in the midst of the storm.  I only know that at some point I thought I have to do something to change this.  I began to press in even harder to the Lord, my devotionals weren't enough, study time wasn't working, worship music was not breaking through, I felt a bit cold and dead. The kind of feeling where you unconsciously are covering your heart to keep it from feeling anything. This was going to be difficult but I knew my God could do anything.  I had to quit thinking about the sad stuff and start being thankful for the good.  A thankful heart is like a flashlight in the dark, it scatters the darkness and proves to you that it is not as scary as you thought.  Because let's face it, everything seems scarier in the dark. Press on, I told myself all the things I knew to be true.   On I must go, I wearily thought... then I thought about the Dr. Seuss book that I love,  "Oh the Places You'll Go"
But on you will go
though the weather be foul
On you will go
though your enemies prowl
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
After all, I am a Pastor.  What did I really think, it would always get to be the sunny side of life?  I started laughing.  Laughing at my kids, reading jokes, sitting with my puppies, I chose to laugh.  I started replaying the encouraging words I had heard in my mind from friends.  Yes, for sure there was good in all of this, after all it was an honor to be engaged in peoples lives in some of their darkest moments.  I reworked my thoughts into positive statements.  I found scripture to bolster my joy.  I reminded myself of how thankful I am for the little things and I saw some big things that I had missed in all the darkness.  I made a list, I thanked God for the things on the list.  I laughed some more.  I watched an inappropriate comedy, yes I admit it was rated R (except it was on tv).  I laughed about my mom dropping her camera in the ocean for the second time, I laughed at Lola's crazy comments, I laughed when I stepped in dog poop, I laughed by myself and finally as I sat home by myself on Saturday I laughed because even though I was sick, I was not sad.  I laughed because I knew that without that sadness I wouldn't have apprecaited the right now moment of "Thank you Jesus, He is risen!"  Easter might have just been another Easter except this Easter I felt like the Lord had rolled away the stone of heaviness and had risen up the joy of my salvation!  It's true it had been a sad thirty days, but Sunday was coming!! 
I had every reason to celebrate Easter.  Because Jesus is risen, all the funerals were just births into heaven.  Because Jesus is risen, I am assured that this mess I live in,  this is not all there is.  Because Jesus is risen, I am surronded by an amazing family of believers that love me even when I am in the darkness.  Because Jesus is risen, I have an amazing husband and every day with him is a gift.  Because Jesus is risen, I get to be the light in the darkness.  And, this little light of mine, it may grow dim but it will never go out.  It's true this life is just a great balancing act and sometimes I get a little mixed up but this one thing I know; I can choose to laugh.  I celebrate because of my salvation and sometimes I just need to be reminded if there was nothing else, that alone is enough to have joy in.  The joy of my salvation is well.... just the spotlight I need to shine the light on all the good there is in my world and fill my heart with rejoicing once again.  Be blessed my friends, and choose laughter today. 

She rejoiced, for hope had come!

The woman had spent years being used and disgraced, but one moment with him had changed everything.  He had protected her when others wanted to stone her and she in returned had pledged her love to him forever.  Not the kind of love that could be sold for gold coins and certainly not the kind of love that meant marriage.  This was different.  She was different.  She who had been a woman despised, had become a woman of love.  A woman who could love a man of power and authority without relying on the enticement of her body, wanting nothing from him other than to drink in his wisdom.  She could sit and listen to him for hours and his holy love brought healing with every word. With her head lifted higher than it had ever been, she was clothed in strength and dignity now.  The past was the past and her future had never been brighter.  They welcomed him into the city and she followed quietly behind, content to be in the shadow of the man from Galilee. 

They dined together that night, his closest circle of friends and she knew something was not right.  His conversation was vague and tinged with a deep sadness she had not seen in him before.  She waited on him and prayed quietly for this man she had grown to love so deeply.  As she cleaned the dishes and prepared the house for sleep she felt his distress.  She caught his eyes and a smile crossed his lips, not of flirtation but of kindness and genuine love.  A love that she had never known.  She went to sleep full of hope that he would accomplish his purpose and be the reigning King one day.  On that day she would gain back her reputation, her heart would be truly healed, on that day she would enter the Kings court and serve him with adoration and expectation.  She drifted off to sleep with the scent of her costly perfume in her hair. 

She was awakened by weeping and wailing and jumped to her feet.  What could this be?  she thought to herself.  She ran to the kitchen to find many gathered there all repeating the same thing, Jesus had been taken.  Taken, she thought this cannot be.  She listened to the conversations for awhile, tears clouding her vision.  Taken and abandoned by his friends.  This could not be.  I must see for myself she thought and she slipped out the door of the host home.  Heading for the center of town and listening to the whispers of those who just yesterday had cheered him on as he wound his way through town.  She came to a sudden stop, where there he was for all to see.  His robes gone, his skin ripped open like a sacrificed animal, his blood pooling all around him.  She couldn't bear to look at him, but how could she not?  This was the man who had saved her life, this was the man who had healed her heart, this was the man that had changed everything about her life.  She stood still and willed him to look at her.  The Roman guards were not done beating him yet and every strike of the whip made her jerk her head away.  Look at me, she cried out in between blows.  He looked up and for a split second their eyes locked and then the crack of the whip came down and his head was wrenched in pain to the side.  She screamed out and fell to the ground.  I will not leave him, she thought.  He will not go through this alone.  There she stayed, watching and allowing him to see her waiting.  It was as if by seeing her, he was able to endure it.  Their eyes would meet briefly and a small glimmer of hope would cross his face.  She was powerless to do anything to stop it.  The blood staining the stone ground began to flow towards her, eventually staining the hem of her garment.  The blood being pulled up into the very fabric of her dress, I will not leave she thought to herself.  Then suddenly they came and took him.  They pulled him by his arms, his legs limp behind him.  Leaving a trail of blood in his wake that made her consider the fact that perhaps, he had lost to much blood. Perhaps, he would not survive the night. She pulls herself up only to find her hands now covered in his blood.  She wipes them on her skirt that is already stained across the bottom and walks away, leaving a bloody footprint trail.  Where will I go she thinks.  Who would take a woman like me into their home.  She looks for the disciples but they are no where to be found.  She knocks on doors that no one will answer.  She searches for friendly faces that she had met along their journeys, the people that had crowded around to hear the man from Galilee.  Everyone looks away from her, the blood stained mad woman running through the streets.  She yells out his name looking for his followers, but no one claims to know her Jesus.  She heads towards the outskirts of town where the other outcast are gathered, she sleeps in the trash thrown out by the city.  In her heart she knows no matter how desperate she is, she will never go back to her old lifestyle. 

She awakens to see a crowd going up the hill, men condemned to die leading the way.  Brutally being forced to carry their own crosses.  She runs towards them terrified of what she sees.  No, no, no she screams as she realizes every hope she has had is now dashed to the ground.  She screams out his name and he turns his head towards her, his gaze piercing through to her heart.  The covenant, the covenant, the words play around in her mind as she watches them climb the hill. What will happen now to the Kingdom he had promised, the hope for a nation was now being led up a hill to be slaughtered.  She can't  bear another moment watching, she throws herself in the ground face first.  She begins to pray as she has heard him pray, rhythmically she cries out to the Father in heaven to intervene she continues for hours even as she hears him scream out something indescribable.  And then suddenly the sky grows dark and the earth trembles.  She screams as she runs for shelter under a tree, she falls there exhausted from hours of tears and mental anguish.  She fitfully sleeps until dawn and then arises looking to find where they have buried him.  The tomb is freshly cut and covered with a large rock, men stand watch outside of it.  How strange she thinks to herself why would you need to guard a dead man?  Then she is reminded of Lazarus, he too had been dead.  Maybe all was not lost, maybe there was still hope.  She finds a place close by to hide and wait.  She recounts his stories in her head, his words that he had spoken, the parables until she falls asleep right where she is.  She awakens in the morning hungry and goes in search of fruit or some type of food.  She sees some women in the distance but is to afraid to approach them, what if they too hate him and are looking to hurt his followers.  She stays out of sight and finds a fig tree to eat from.  She returns to be in view of the tomb, nothing has changed.  She stays quietly there until night time comes again, the hunger in her stomach of little thought to her as she tries to unravel the mystery in her mind of how the man from Galilee who seemed to know all things didn't seem to know this was going to happen.  He must have known, she is thinking as she drifts off to sleep.  She awakens with a start, of course he knew.  That was what that whole dinner conversation had been about....Someone had betrayed him and this was all a part of his plan, what was it he had said?  I must go first.  She jumped up quickly and ran to view the tomb and there she saw the stone rolled away.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, she spun around quickly and there he was.  The man from Galilee, with holes in his hands and feet but no blood.  She wrapped her arms around him and he spun her around.  She laughed and cried uncontrollably as she touched his face and marveled at the smile that was filling his face.  No more pain, no more death, hope had come and her heart was filled with a new kind of love, the love of a savior. 

I too, have been loved by the King and changed forever.  The Kingdom has come to my heart and hope lives there.  Though my mind my forget the hope I have, my heart always remembers.  Faith is not for the faint of heart and I am forced to pick myself up, dust myself off and remember that He is alive!  I look into his face and see my hope restored.  He lives to fulfill His covenant in me, in my life.  He has made a way, I need only trust in Him.  It may get dark sometimes, but Sunday is coming!  He paid the price, set the captives free and gave us victory over death.  He is the resurrection and the life.  Happy Easter friends, may the great I AM fill your heart with hope as we celebrate His resurrection. 

This life is both beautiful and brutal.

This life is both Beautiful and Brutal

 

I am surronded by both an army of love and a torrent of sadness. 

I am filled with both the joy of the Lord and the sadness of loss.

I am laughing and smiling and then crying and sighing.

I am surronded with both death and life.

I am filled with hope and yet find myself in despair.

I am weak and yet strong in Christ.

I am finding my way, yet utterly lost without Christ.

I am alive and yet dying.

This life is both beautiful and brutal,

sin stained and grace filled.

My life is both beautiful and brutal, sin stained and grace filled and one day I will leave the imperfect for the perfect, to be with the great I AM.  Until then I crawl up on the altar and offer myself as a living sacrifice and the old is made new again; the brutal made beautiful, the sin stained made grace filled.  Until then I am perfectly imperfect.  A friend once told me progress not perfection. So maybe sometimes I crawl off the altar, sometimes I get scared of the pain, sometimes I just run from the hard things and sometimes, just sometimes I let Jesus shine through me as bright as the sun. 

The God of Second Chances

He is a God of second chances and thirds and fourths and so on and so on.....

The man was not old, but not young.  She had watched him quietly eat his meal and pay his check.  Kind enough to the waitress to be noticed but not overly kind as to be perceived as flirtatious.  Handsome and a bit rugged, she had sat and listened as her friend rambled on and she wondered what this man’s story was.  She was always on the lookout for opportunities to meet interesting people.  This man, well something about him seemed interesting.  She let her mind drift to the people she had met in her life, people she had been able to share a piece of her story with, people she had shared a piece of her God with.  Suddenly she was brought back to the table and out of her thoughts as Mindy asked her what she thought.  Searching her mind for bits and pieces of what she had heard Mindy say she muttered….hhhmmmmm as she tried to come up with a good answer.  Then she threw out the best answer she had, what do you think God would say?  She turned the question around on Mindy, after all God was paying much better attention than she had been.  And with that she engaged back in conversation with Mindy and waited for the check to come so they could step outside and then head to church.  It was Wednesday after all.

They paid the check and pushed through the doors into the cool crisp air.  There walking a few steps in front was the gentleman she had noticed inside.  Intently looking at his phone, then taking a few steps he was in a hurry but unable to do two things at one time it would seem.  She noticed him lean a bit to the right and then suddenly he went down face first.  He didn’t just trip, it was like he was a marionette and someone had suddenly just cut the strings.  He fell hard, half on the pavement and half on the grass and didn’t move.  She was paralyzed.  Mindy turned to see what she was staring at with her mouth gaping wide open.  OOOOHHH!  Screamed Mindy and they both began to run towards the man.  He wasn’t that far away and yet time seemed to stand still, she felt as though she was running in slow motion. Aas she kept her eyes on the man she felt an eerie shutter run up her spine. 

She blinked as she looked at the man, Mindy was trying to dial 911 but in her mind everything went quiet….sitting on the man’s chest was a demon of some sort.  She stood still as it looked at her with yellow eyes and sharp teeth.  A cross between a rabid dog and a contorted bent man;  it’s front feet with long nails enveloping  the man’s heart.  She blinked again, her very breath seeming to echo in her ears, in the background she could hear Mindy telling 911 where they were. A very long second passed by, she was still simply staring at the thing; Demonic reality staring at her as she stared back at it.  Tick tock, tick tock went the seconds in her ears.  Jesus, she whispered in shock at what she was seeing and grasping at the only answer she knew.  Jesus, she shouted louder and bolder.

Then just as suddenly as she saw it, it was yanked off or flew off or something….it was just gone.  The man jumped up, she heard Mindy say, uuuhhh wait, he just got up?  She heard Mindy tell 911 to hold on.  She knew she should move but wasn’t sure what to do.  She stepped quickly to the man and put her hand on his arm.  Sir, please wait you were just lying flat on the ground, out cold we need to make sure you are all right.  She was thinking to herself, sir you were just in the grip of something terribly demonic I don’t think you should just go to your truck and drive off.  Of course she didn’t say that, how crazy would that sound? 

The man looked at her; his eyes didn’t seem cloudy or confused.  He seemed just as he had before kind and intentional.  He rubbed some grass off the bridge of his nose and said he had to pick somebody up from the airport.  She felt certain he was in some sort of shock, she asked him his name and date of birth thinking perhaps this would help them access that he was coherent.  After all that is what they seem to do in the movies.  She wasn’t a nurse, nor a doctor but she knew this man should take a moment before driving.  As she looked into his green and brown eyes she suddenly thought she might know him, maybe that was why she had been drawn to him in the restaurant.   No, as she searched his weathered face she realized she didn’t know him but she saw something in him. 

Sir, are you a Christian? She asked him.  Why yes I am he said, with a half crooked smile playing on his lips.  Mindy standing beside them starts rattling on with the 911 operator about how the man seems fine now and hangs up.  She contemplates what to tell him and then just blurts it out.  Well, let me tell you what I just saw.  It is gonna sound pretty crazy but it seemed very real to me.  I saw something demonic sitting upon your chest and for several seconds it just sat there and then suddenly it seemed to be ripped off or jumped off and then you just stood right up!  The man took his hat off, rubbed his head grinned  and said, that doesn’t seem to strange to me at all. 

It doesn’t she exclaimed.  No, he started explaining that he was a Pastor and God had already saved his life once before.   He is certainly a God of second chances he said.   He chuckled to himself as he walked away.  He sat down in his truck, thought to himself about how good he felt.  He ran his hand over the defibrillator implanted in his chest.  This heart that they tell me is to big must still have work to be done, he thought to himself.  And with that he put it in gear and drove off to pick up his friend, he didn’t want to be late for this important divine connection. 

In the meantime as he pulled away, Mindy said she had never seen anything like that before.  The woman paused looked at Mindy and then said to no one in particular except herself, that man still has work to do.  Then off they went to church to share the story of one man’s encounter with death and the power of God to end the assignment of the evil one against this pastor.  She had received a vision that not many will see but one that is happening all around us, all the time.  We wrestle not against flesh and blood but against spirits and principalities.  She had the privilege of seeing what most of us miss, the battle that rages continually.  She knew in her heart that the name of Jesus released the power and authority over the demonic in that moment.  Next time she wouldn’t be still for so long…….next time she would say the name of Jesus much sooner. 

A heart that's frail and torn.

I know, I know...it says this blog is funny but really....it's not all that funny. 

Is there funny in the life that's unraveling, in funerals and teenagers, in sickness and a dirty house, in addictions and a house full of disappointment, in angry complaints and selfish demands, in tear stained faces and little children lost?  Is there any funny left in this broken world?
I search through my memory banks, seek out the hope that restores joy.  I, like Jesus cry out...My God, My God... I know I have never been forsaken, and so the words stop on my lips.  The words of a song, rising in my heart and I remember that I am not the only one in this world to feel crushed by the daily pressure and to long to find the hope in the darkness.  I know the victory is won, but the battle is hard.  So is it funny?  No, not at all....but sometimes you just have to decide to laugh in the midst of the storm.  Eventually you can see the funny but right now it's no fun at all.  And so I search for the words to the song and I remember that I am never alone.  Funny and Joy are two totally different things and today is not funny, but today I can have joy because redemption wins and death has no sting.  I wanted things to be funny, I always want the funny... but today I will settle for sweet joy in the knowledge that redemption wins. I know, I know...I am melancholy but maybe tomorrow I will be funny. 

So here is the song, its from Twelth Avenue North called "Worn"

I’m Tired I’m worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I’ve made mistakes
I’ve let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world

And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn

I know I need to lift my eyes up
But I'm too weak
Life just won’t let up
And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn

My prayers are wearing thin
Yeah, I’m worn
Even before the day begins
Yeah, I’m worn
I’ve lost my will to fight
I’m worn
So, heaven come and flood my eyes

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause all that’s dead inside will be reborn

Though I’m worn
Yeah I’m worn

The challenge of a Cinderella life

     Sometimes I feel like Cinderella.  I have been given the gift of a life I never expected, charmed and beautiful in many ways.  Underserving of such an extravagent gift of grace, I find myself mesmerized by the beauty of what is my life.  I have moments of rejoicing and moments of the greatest happiness I have ever experienced and then.....



My very charmed life.....

The Monster within....

 

  BAM I am the wicked stepmother!  Now, technically I am not a stepmother but it would appear by my childrens reactions that I am a Monster Mother.  Thats right I said it....a monster mother.  Wickedly inflicting my rules and regulations upon them.  Forcing them into teenage slavery.  Clean the rooms, clean the bathroom, clean your clothes, etc.  I become someone I don't even recognize as I glance in their rooms and see (correction can't see) the floor and the disaster that is their rooms.  I think of throwing everything away that is on their floors, my temperature boils as in my head I come up with new ways to torture them.  I could take away all their games, I could refuse to give them any lunch or gas money.  I want to scream and throw things, but I don't.  Monster Mother, filled with rage.  Who is this woman?  I love my children, I truly do.  However, sending them to a dungeon for a season does seem like a wonderful idea at times.  These boys, the same adorable, loving boys that made forts and played for hours under sheets and blankets connected to chairs and bed post now have created living spaces that could be condemend by the housing authority. 
     And so, Monster Mother closes the door and walks away.  The ugly monster lurking behind Cinderella's princess life seeks refuge in the word of God, turns on worship music and let's it go.  Cinderella returns.  She laughs and sings as she cleans what she can.  She keeps the doors closed to that ugly world and realizes she can't control everything.  Some things in Cinderella world are best left behind closed doors.  My prince charming is coming soon and there is much to be done still.  And so I focus on Him and on becoming more and more like the Princess I am called to be.
    Royalty is costly.  I am willing to pay the price daily, if only my Monster lurking within would stay locked up in that dungeon.  Monster Mother is my test, she is raging in the dungeon of my heart.  She wants more from my children than they can give(and then she should expect from teenagers).  She longs to force and rage, to create robot children that will be perfect.  But the magic of the Holy Spirit enables me to lock her up and shrink her down to almost nothing....is she gone yet, no.
      Monster Mother is slowly melting away into nothingness. Trust me, it's not easy.  Behavior modification is not what I am after, I want this character dead!  She is a tyrant and must be destroyed for this story to be written with the best possible outcome. By the way, sometimes she is not Monster Mother she is Witchy Wife or Pissy short tempered Pastor....yes, thats right she has mad morphing skills. But she is getting smaller all the time. Progress not perfection in this earthly world.  But the Kingdom is coming and then, well then I will be perfected (no quick magic wand action, just sanctification and then instant perfection in heaven). 
    Cinderella is a fairy tale that we all grew up with and dreamed of living out, but my life is reality.  Reality seasoned with rare opportunities to lead a family and others into the Kingdom of Heaven.  It isn't easy being the heroine and sometimes the antagonist in the story of my life.  The call of creating a story line that is both humble and glorifying of God is a challenge to say the least, but I enjoy writing it and feel confident of this one thing....He who has begun a good work in me will be faithful to complete it. 

Multiplication not division

Years in ministry have taught me one thing:  Division is bad, multiplication is good. 

Sadly, many think that they must minimize (criticize) others(views, beliefs, practices, etc.) in order to elevate themselves (their views, beliefs, practices, etc.).  A common practice in the world we live in... but it has no place in our sanctified, blood bought Christian family.  All of us struggle with casting down pride, removing it from our lives bit by bit.  It is the most rooted of sins in our lives.  Entangled in our daily lives it causes us to put ourselves above others.  To view our way as the best way or the only way.  It causes division among the brethren instead of multiplication.  Satan's best work done through God's glorious children.  How heartbreaking it is to see our own children doing Satan's work (rebellion, self-seeking and immorality), how much more so for our heavenly father to see us doing Satan's work.  Satan's focus; steal, kill and destroy.  Within the believers ranks he simply starts at division, then he steals unity, kills kindness and destroys innocent bystanders.  How happy Satan must be to see disagreements, criticism of the brethren, dishonoring comments of leadership and the biting and devouring of one another amongst the believers.  This weakens our testimony to the community and keeps us from operating in our full operational strength.  This type of behavior never invokes Gods blessing but rather puts us in disobedience to his word.  When we can lovingly stand arm and arm together with unity in the essentials and freedom in the non-essentials we can operate in love and have the full measure of the Holy Spirit at work through us.  Then we will see multiplication of the gospel, drawing others to repentance through the goodness of God.  A new command has been given LOVE one another.  The lost and dying of this world need to see a unified, loving move of God.