Terribly Interesting

Abba is talking to me. Perhaps you remember my post about how God kept giving me the theme beauty from ashes for a window of time. If you missed it, read it here . My dear friend Betsy gave me the most precious gift that carries on the theme. I completely teared up when she gave it to me. Her kindness spoke volumes. Would you please say a little prayer for her family for me? Those two three letter words are "beauty" and "ashes." Keeping in mind that you read Hebrew from the right to the left, you can see that the words have identical letters with the first letters being transposed. It is a powerful play on words. He takes what was and realigns it to himself. I thought of how Christ changed places with me and that is how I became beautiful. We were transposed and He took my place on the cross. Beauty for ashes. from Biblehub: "to give unto them beauty for ashes; in the Hebrew text there is a beautiful play on words, which cannot be so well expresse...

Sometimes, amidst the chaos and the noise I can hardly think my own thoughts. My mind is constantly bombarded with the words of those around me . . . the words of my children. Even when I awake early in the morning I find that my brain is still cluttered with the words that take over my days. Often, I find myself with my head still on my pillow simply asking Jesus what He wants for the day. What does He want to say. What does He want.  Abba, I just want to be near you. I want to listen to you. Tell me your heart. Bend my ear. Talk to me through the clutter, the noise, the chaos of this life. Let me hear Your voice. Your beauty abounds in every spring flower. It abounds in the soft songs of my children and in their laughter. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for this day to bear witness to your grace. You lavish me with grace upon grace from your fullness. Thank you.

Jesus is good, dear friends. I was reading the other day about how we often find healing when we reach out to others who are hurting. It's the idea behind Isaiah's words when he tells us that if we give up what we have to sustain our own lives to meet the needs of the afflicted then our own light will rise in the darkness. That's sweet grace. I often will write or send a note to someone and when they respond, I go back and read what I wrote. Half of the time I don't remember what I wrote because I believe the whole thing was a gentle whisper of the Holy Spirit. I find that most beautiful, wonderful, healing ideas truly originated from His pen. I just caught the wave. So often, when I read back, I see that I had not only written to that person, I had also written to myself.  Isaiah 58:10 (I love the Amplified version) 

Every time I go through the process of prayer and writing out a talk for a particular group, God reminds  and encourages my spirit in so many ways. Even as a youth, I would realize that when I shared something with someone else, I was given a greater grasp on the subject myself. Sometimes, I would come to complete clarity when I was delivering the actual talk.  This past week was no exception. As I spoke to a group of women in Brownwood, I found my own heart encouraged and challenged. Jesus reminded my heart of who I am in Him. What a humble gift it is to be given the opportunity to share our story. Then the Holy Spirit revives our heart with reminders of the the things He has done to give us our testimony. Share your heart. "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden;" Matthew 5:14

There are words that very hard to say. Words like miscarriage. Somehow, if you don't say it, it doesn't seem so real. Maybe it didn't happen. Maybe you made it up. Maybe you are delusional. One minute you see a faint line. The next you are bleeding unexpectedly. There you are. All you can mutter is, "Abba." It might sound more like, "Abba?" You know he is very present in your grief and your questioning. His presence is so thick that he doesn't even need to say a word to you. You still hear him. There is a season for everything . . .

Even when life is hard and full of grief, Jesus has given us such a sweet gift in himself. Often when I am caught up in being overwhelmed by the life that swirls around me, I have to step back and remind myself of one thing. I have a good life and I serve a good God. The people we love are not perfect. The earth is not perfect. We have a great gift though, beloved. We can think on Christ. Instead of obsessing about our spouse, our in-laws, our another baby lost, we can think fondly on the tender love that Jesus Christ has for us. We can dwell wholeheartedly on the lengths that he has gone to in order to ensure our love relationship. We have a good thing and we have a good God. He speaks to us.  He listens. Thank God for all He has done for you. He has shown you the path to life. "You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand." -Psalm 16:11

I was invited to speak to a class on prayer on Sunday morning about prayer journaling. It brought to my mind this wonderful poem from The Deep Place Where No One Goes by Jill Briscoe. I thought I would share it with you. If you were in the class and want to know the name of the journal I go through, it is called a journible. It is my favorite type of journal because of recording the scripture in it.Leave room to listen for Jesus. Enjoy. Take a Pen and Paper By Jill  Briscoe Taken from Jill's book The Deep Place  Where Nobody Goes Try taking a pen and paper to the Deep Place where nobody goes. Then you can read His letters in the Golden Book and write a reply. I write it out on paper and I think my thoughts out loud I speak my heart's foreboding and I pray about the cloud Of deep and dark depression and a sense of dread and doubt So I write it out on paper and I get my feelings out. Then I take it to the Throne Room and leave it there above ...

As the waves of summer pass over me, I find myself looking for solitude to process, to reflect, to rejuvenate. We have been entrenched in warfare. We have been praying for souls to be won for Christ and He has been working. He has been winning. There is always a backlash from this sort of thing. I find myself walking and praying. I often utter the same phrases over and over. My thoughts as a mother of three constantly in travel mode ministering in chaos are not always intelligible. So, I simply say, "Maranatha." Come Lord, Jesus. Come to this place. Come to my neighbor's  house. Come to this worship center. Come to my weary soul. I know God is everywhere, but this is a deeper thing I am crying out for. I cry out for the Spirit representation of the Son of God to come into the core of all I can see or feel or think about. When I have no good or beautiful words, Come Lord Jesus. When my mind is so full that I cannot think of what to pray for my friend, Come Lord Jesus. W...

Perhaps you saw a post about our tire blowing out, knocking out the head light, and ripping off the fender on Sunday. Jesus protected us from a serious accident, but there is much repair needed. Come Monday, we went to Discount Tire to get the tire replaced. We took two cars so we could get around while the tire was being replaced. We also came home in two cars.  I was driving the van back and since it had no a.c., I decided to stop and get the girls and I a drink. I was turning the corner and I saw a couple that looked like they may be handicapped in some way. Then as I was sitting in the drive-thru, they walked in front of me with their little girl and a baby in a stroller. The little girl, about 7, looked at me and I just felt the craziest rush of love for her. The cashier was being a bit slow. That gave the perfect amount of time for God to impress upon my heart to buy them dinner. I had twenty bucks in my purse. God had twenty bucks in my purse. I asked the cashier t...

Sometimes, you feel like you are on the great hamster wheel of life when you have small children. You spend the majority of every day doing the exact same thing in an almost precise cycle. It generally culminates in a shed tear or two. This alone is enough to drive a person to their knees crying out, "help" to the Lord.  Add in traveling with my husband and three small children to lead worship for months out of the year. I am in one hotel room with my children for ... months. Denbigh leads worship sometimes six times a day. Add practice. He comes home, a three and a half hour drive, on Sundays after a ten p.m. service on Saturday night. I never see him. My van started making a horrible noise. It died while driving it down the road to get lunch. It started back up, but who knows. During the last few months, we had kids swing on my daughter's curtains and bend the rod, get sharpie on her heirloom bedspread, get stripper on the butler pantry counter, the table...

Last week, I came home to a fallen tree. It seems silly to say, but I grieved that tree. I got angry at Jesus.  I sat there in a swing in that tree every day and talk to the Lord. My kids ran and played right where the huge limb fell. It is about twelve foot in diameter. The limb was 45 foot long.  I laid down on my face and opened my hands and let it go. Surely God must have a plan for removing this place where I met him for a daily date. Then, I realized that this massive limb came down and my swing was still hanging there. No one in my family was hurt or even around when it happened. The lightning hit it just so that it fell perfectly. If it had fallen any other way, it would have leveled our house . Branches were touching Gomer on two sides. Nothing was hurt.  I stared into the place that the lightning hit and was crushed and humbled by the power that brought down that tree with a single swipe. A God that powerful and precise must be up to something. He own...

Just when you think no one notices, Jesus will whisper, "I value you. I see you. You are not alone." In weariness, I softly say, "Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy." It is Christ who brings the healing. It is Christ who sings over us. The grace of Christ renders us undone. It renders us whole. When we step out of that, we see our true selves. We remember that even what we give to Him has come from His own hand. We are desperate like a deer panting for the water.  Sustain me, Lord. 

Sweet Jesus, I need you to sustain me in this season. I turn to you and cry out to you in Your great mercy. Hear my prayer, Abba. Heal the sick. Tender our hearts. Come with your Holy Spirit. We long for You and Your goodness towards us. We hunger for your peace. Your joy is our delight. Come swiftly to meet us. Rain down Your Spirit on us. We turn to You. You are all we need. Jesus, you're beautiful. 

Today, I am grateful for the reminder of the promises of the New Covenant. I am grieved in heart for people I love, but I can cling to God's promises for them in Christ. Even when people I love choose sin and separation, I can call on Christ on their behalf. I can ask Him to bring them to a place of redemption and grace, a place of honoring Christ. Jesus can do it.  You do it, Abba. 

We were driving out toward east Texas on my birthday last week and I happened upon a verse on my drive that changed the way my whole trip would go. That verse would be on replay throughout our drive.   "It is God who clothes the wild grass."  Matthew 6:30 You know the section where we are told not to be anxious because God cares for the lilies of the field. It goes on to remind us that God cares greatly for simple grass. Of course, He will care for us. I know that He hears my desperate plea. Every flower and stalk of grass remind me.

I have been overcome with the stories of those serving West in the aftermath of tragedy. The gracious behavior and the servant's hearts are on full display. People in the media are all abuzz about the Southern hospitality they are encountering. It is shocking them. I think Christ is being represented in the Bible belt right now. His people are stepping up. There is another group in the Bible belt right now. The ungracious. The hate-filled attackers. Honestly, I saw a picture of one of them on social media and I felt like I was staring a demon in the face. The folks are from Westboro. These are the people who picket funerals because they see this disaster or the death of a soldier as God's judgement. They own a website called godhatesfags. No, really. I keep seeing the campaigns to refuse them service. Now, I am all for shielding those who mourn. I am just wondering what kind of reception Westboro is getting in the Bible belt.  Oh, Jesus, remove the scales from their ...

Last week, I wrote about the butterflies we had been watching emerge from their cocoons. You can read about it here . I had also found myself struck by the realization of the shedding of the exoskeleton. It is one thing to hear the terminology and another entirely to see it unfold. I was staring at the caterpillar begin to spin it's silken cocoon. It began a shaking that appeared so violent as it made a point and attached itself in order to hang down. A third of it's body fell off. I just stood there stunned. I was stunned because Christ in the tomb was fresh on my mind that Good Friday. I was stunned because Galatians 2:20 is always fresh in my mind. This falling away was not some calculated effort on the part of the caterpillar. It was a natural response to God creating it and calling it forth in it's time. There was a shedding of self, a shroud of paper thin mystery wrapped around the Chrysalis. Then, there was quiet.  When it had all fallen away and there see...

Over the last few weeks, I have watched a caterpillar wrap itself in a cocoon and then emerge a butterfly. Today, I stared deeply at the wonders of God as the orange color slowly filled its brown wings with bright orange as if it had been injected with paint that slowly crept through it's veins. I think about one line I heard on Sunday morning.  You will be made whole.   Isaiah 53. You will not be made whole like when you were a caterpillar or a chrysalis. You will be whole as a new creation, one that gained the strength to fly through struggling through the cocoon. Dark, tight death wrapped the body and you had no idea if you would ever make it out alive. Then you emerge, barely there. Searching for strength. The color of dirt. Slowly, the color, the spirit of life, starts to fill you. You are alive. You are whole. You are what you were always meant to be. You are because of the struggle.

I have been completely undone remembering the death and resurrection this year. The grief of the loss impacted me in a new and powerful way. I was overcome with despair at the thought of losing Christ. That mourning propelled my spirit into this grateful place of health and delight in Christ come Easter morning. Christ is risen in my heart. That freedom, that rising has made me want to sit and bask in the beauty and radiance of my Lord. I am sincerely in awe of what He has come and done in my heart.  God allows us to love others like that. We can move forward in such grace and without reacting to petty concerns. We can reveal Christ to everyone around us in the simple, every day actions. We can be hospitable with our very lives, welcoming others with a warmth unparalleled. Christ wants to use our physical bodies to meet the spiritual concerns of others. If we only concern ourselves with others first.  Let me show others your mercy, Abba.   At Calvary ...