the Witness

From the Voice in the Garden to Adam

and to Abraham

and to Isaac

the One who wrestled with Jacob

and sent Joseph ahead to save all of Israel

who called to Moses from a burning bush

and spoke to Joshua in the tabernacle

who inhabited the pillar of fire and of cloud

who inspired judges to lead

gave prophets Words to speak

and kings wisdom to reign

and kept His promise

by coming Himself, in the flesh,

who did not leave us nor forsake us

but left us a Witness,

making us witnesses ourselves,

still speaks,

still moves,

in this day, in this hour,

for those who seek Him.

Romans 8:16: “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God.”

“Beareth witness” means He shows UP! God Himself, Jesus, in the flesh–now OUR flesh, our redeemed flesh, once weak and worthless, now filled with this Treasure!

Have you received Him? No, not reciting words like ‘I accept you..’ followed by nothing noteworthy. Have you received Him? Undisputable evidence of His presence?

(‘Received’ implies that the action is taken on the part of the giver, not the receiver. We cannot instigate a ‘reception’ until something is given. A football is not ‘received’ until someone throws it.

God is not passively waiting around for us to ‘receive’ this spiritual football–pardon the sports analogy–while it hovers just above our heads. He throws it when we’ve shown we’re ready to catch it! He takes the action, and there is no disputing when you’ve caught it–it’s right there in your hand!)

He has never, and will never, leave Himself without evidence. When so much of our social system depends on proof, do you think He would require us to stand on nothing and claim belief when no active, tangible proof of Him exists?

Do you think He would hold the proverbial carrot in front of our faces by saying, while in the flesh, “I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you,” and never follow through, but instead let us believe that heavy statement was figurative? Would He leave us hanging like that for two thousand years?

Do you think He willingly removes His presence from our daily lives just to see us squirm and struggle?

Let me ask you: for an engaged girl who lives far from her fiance, would he never call or visit? Do you think there’d be much of a relationship there if she didn’t see or hear from him until the wedding day?

He knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust. He knows our weaknesses and is sufficient for all of them. He knows we humans are fickle, easily distracted, easily swayed by temptation when we feel detached from Him. And He knows that our detachment from Him is remedied by an audible, tangible Proof of His presence.

I must tell you: Jesus is alive. Not figuratively. Not in the way that a deceased person is kept ‘alive’ by our memories (for this is what His presence amounts to for so many people, unnecessarily!), but ALIVE. He lives, and where He lives is EVIDENT! You KNOW when you have met the Creator, because He causes you to say what you could not say, do what you could not do, be what you could not be without Him.

He is supernatural by nature; His evidence in us, therefore, is–MUST be–supernatural. In keeping with His nature.

I must tell you it is REAL.

Have you received that witness–the Holy Ghost–since you believed? Acts 2:1-39

our humble mission

“In the last analysis, the dearest, sweetest thing in life is the consciousness, in the inner depths of our motives, that we live for Christ; and, though our efforts be ever so feeble, we toil at our daily tasks, in hope of, in the final roundup, having done something to lay, in humble gratitude and adoration, as an offering at His feet.”

-H.H. Halley

Dawn

She found herself at the garden, early, distraught. The only one who had ever been able to help her was gone.

Weeping this morning in the dark before sunrise, she stumbled. Crushing grief lay so heavy in her chest, it was difficult to breathe.

Something looked different when she approached the tomb. The stone! The seal was broken, and the guards were gone! Panic struck her, and she fled.

Peter and John were approaching. She burst out, “He’s gone! Someone’s taken Him away–I don’t know where!”

The men ran to the garden, Peter straight into the tomb. John hung back at the door. This couldn’t be happening. First, the Lord had been killed. That was bad enough. Now, His body was gone. Cautiously, he bent down and stepped through the stone entrance.

There were the graveclothes. And the napkin that had bound Jesus’ head. Folded neatly, but the body was gone.

Bewildered, the men looked at each other. This was too much. They left for home, leaving Mary once again alone in the garden, weeping inconsolably.

Leaning against the cold stone of the tomb, she forced herself to look into the opening. Her heart jumped into her throat. Her stomach churned.

Angels. Where His feet and head had been. But He wasn’t there.

“Woman, why are you crying?”

“They’ve taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve laid Him.” her thin, quavering voice cracked. The angels did not answer.

She turned away from the tomb, foggy, confused. There stood a man before her. The gardener.

“Woman, why are you crying? Who are you looking for?”

More questions, no answers. She was getting upset. “Sir, if you have taken Him somewhere, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away.”

“Mary.”

The Voice. That Voice. The one that had with vehement force cast out seven demons from her soul. She would never forget it. Slowly, heart pounding, she lifted her face to Him.

“Master!” she gasped, knees weak. She reached out to Him, believing, overcome with joy.

“Don’t touch me,” He spoke gently. “I have not ascended to my Father. But go to my brothers; tell them I am ascending to my Father–your Father! And to my God–your God.”

He was gone.

Tingling, she hurried out of the garden. He was alive! She could hardly believe it, though she had just seen it. Her own eyes could not betray her. This was real. The angels in the tomb had asked her the question, but Jesus reserved the answer for Himself.

The Master, her Master, was alive! And though His plan was not finished, He had taken time to comfort her. Her tears were not forgotten, not unseen. Though she had thought she was alone in the garden, He had been waiting for her. This was real love. This kind of love filled the depths of her soul, far beyond where her tormentors had scratched and clawed.

The cavernous wound in her heart that had pulsated with each lash she watched Him suffer, splattering blood and shredded flesh, was now whole, bathed in glorious salve. He had not waited a moment longer than necessary to ease her sorrow, though His pain had far exceeded any emotional distress she felt.

What love! She had heard how He wept with Mary at Lazarus’ tomb. He understood! What compassion! Though Lazarus was alive and whole again moments later, He knew the feeling of grief.

Her spine tingled as she recalled His words to Martha. “I am the resurrection and the Life.”

Yes! He IS!

She laughed to herself, blushing a little, recalling just how much He had spoken of this before.

What else might she have missed had He not come to see her?

Thankful, joyful, she quickened her steps. Much to tell! The disciples needed to know.

(John 20:1-18)

Don't miss the bus.

One cold Chicago morning, I stood peering through the oval window of our red door, waiting for the school bus to take me to second grade. The bus came and sat patiently at the end of our long gravel driveway. I thought since I was waiting for my sister to get ready, I might like to say ‘hello’ to the driver. So I waved. No response. I waved more vigorously, but the driver never returned my friendly salutation. Instead, she closed the door and the bus lurched ahead. In a moment it was gone. I couldn’t believe it. I just wanted to say ‘hi.’

I spent a good portion of that day writing “I will not miss the bus.” over and over. One hundred times, I think.

Looking back, I will admit that way at the back of my eight-year-old mind, I remembered having ‘waved the bus on’ other days when we were sick and wouldn’t be going to school. But of course the bus driver would know this time I didn’t mean that kind of waving. Surely she knew my intent.

Opportunity gone, because I was thinking and not acting.

I love to think. I can spend whole days thinking. Dishes remain where they are, and laundry stinketh, this being the fourth day. Surely the utility bill understands I’m thinking about deep and interesting things, even spiritual things. Surely the dust bunnies will wink at this delay. I’m thinking.

Let me not confuse–by ‘thinking,’ I don’t mean ‘praying.’ I don’t mean studying and mediating on the Word. I mean glazed-over wonderment at any random topic.

As I grow up older, I am beginning to realize the direction(s) of God are rarely the Paul-like, as in the bright, blinding light and booming Voice from heaven. More often, it is the series of small steps taken by which He guides those who seek His Will. It is a bus taken here, a right turn made there. A gesture here, a phone call there. And a very ordinary, day-in, day-out communion with the Lover of my soul.

But let’s not get cocky. “Ordinary” communion with the God of the universe never is. And that bus taken, though it wouldn’t seem such a big deal, alters the direction of life. This is how He often leads.

When you’re walking with someone you love, elbow-to-elbow, all it takes is a small nudge to direct you towards one direction over another. Not a screaming, “GO THAT WAY NOW!!” Ouch. I’m right here. You can just whisper, if you want…or just nudge. I’ll follow You.

Now, drastic measures are not needed to secure our attention. We’re not deaf, nor are we blind. We walk in the Light. Don’t we?

Who is blind but My servant, Or deaf as My messenger whom I send? Who is blind as he who is perfect, And blind as the LORD’s servant? (Isaiah 42:19)

“Perfect” here can mean someone who is at peace, having made peace through covenant or agreement. It means complete, restitution made.

Now, I don’t say this to foster doubt about salvation. What I do mean is that there were a whole lotta people in first century Jerusalem who had committed themselves to a covenant of peace, who followed the laws of Moses with vehement zeal,

who missed the bus.

The most important proverbial bus ever.

They were too busy demanding a deafening war cry and pounding hoofbeats to hear the cry of a baby in Bethlehem.

The striking fact here: the war cry never came. They’re still waiting for it. Yes, it will come at the End (another post…on another blog ), but will it then be too late?

What about your bus? In a covenant of peace, yes, but do you walk near enough to feel the gentle nudge? To hear the whisper, “this way…”

When the bus comes, will you stand there, stupefied in abstract thought? Will you have forgotten your homework? Will you just wave at God-ordained opportunity? Or will you jump on?

Too busy

This title brings to mind a song from Veggie Tales (parents of little ones sing along!)

"I'm busy, busy, dreadfully busy, you've no idea what I have to do!
Busy, busy, shockingly busy! Much, much too busy for YOU!"

See if you can get that one out of your head. ;)

Life is so busy these days, it's a wonder any of us get anything done. With all the conveniences available to us, we expect more productivity out of the same twenty-four hours, and more time to have fun and relax. I don't know of anyone who has actually accomplished this.

What I do see often, especially in my own life, is the natural inability to sustain such self-inflicted expectations. So many balls in the air, so many to-do lists, so many opportunities to fail. And of course, misery and frustration soon follow as something gets dropped.

Who expects this of us? Does God expect us to carry all these mutually exclusive burdens? Have we blamed Him for things we've done to ourselves?

What does God really want from me?

"A certain man gave a great supper and invited many,and sent his servant at supper time to say to those who were invited, 'Come, for all things are now ready.' But they all with one [accord] began to make excuses.

The first said to him, 'I have bought a piece of ground, and I must go and see it. I ask you to have me excused.' And another said, 'I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I am going to test them. I ask you to have me excused.' Still another said, 'I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.'

So that servant came and reported these things to his master. Then the master of the house, being angry, said to his servant, 'Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in here [the] poor and [the] maimed and [the] lame and [the] blind.'

And the servant said, 'Master, it is done as you commanded, and still there is room.' Then the master said to the servant, 'Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel [them] to come in, that my house may be filled.

For I say to you that none of those men who were invited shall taste my supper.' " (Luke 14:16-24, NKJV)

Was it that those invited didn't want to come? I don't believe so. What prevented them was the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches (Matt 13:22).

What was urgent seemed more important at the moment, while what was truly important was neglected.

The outcome of this was that in the end, when those invited to the feast would have come, the doors were closed and they were too late.

You can probably guess where I'm going with this. Read on...

"Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven. Many will say to Me in that day, 'Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?' And then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness!' (Matthew 7:21-23, NKJV)

This relationship with our Creator is never a casual thing. He is returning for a bride, not a shallow acquaintance He sees once a week. Not someone who only finds time to chat when everything else is done.

When He calls us Home, it will be with that familiar Voice we've heard all this time in quiet moments. And we will hasten to His bidding, as we have so often to his whisper, "Come and eat."

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. (John 10:27)

No, there isn't much 'free time' to be found these days.
But friend, I beg you now as I admonish myself: Carve out some time for God now from your stubborn, habitual schedule. How can you profess to know Him if you never make precious time for Him?

There will always be something to draw your attention away. But let not the spouse and children God gave you, nor the job and possessions He provided, be the very things to separate you from Him!

Forget not His benefits. Remember He is the one from whom all blessings flow, who gives every good and perfect gift.

Let's recall the words of Jesus to Martha as she, overwhelmed with responsibilities, crossly regarded her sister, who sat at His feet:

"Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her. (Luke 10:41,42 NKVJ)

One thing is needed.

Listen to the words of this song and hear Him speaking...

Trust

Wednesday night on the way home from church, I decided to take a different route. Our usual way was backed up by construction, so I took the opportunity to drive down some back roads. Some I'd taken before, and some not.

I had my GPS in hand and followed the map. I knew technically where we were, though it looked unfamiliar.

My three-year-old said, "Mommy, this is not the way home! We have to turn around!"

I assured him I knew what I was doing, but he was adamant.
"Mommy, we're going the wrong way!"

A few more times, I reminded him "Trust mommy! Mommy knows."

It did take a little longer than I expected, and the sky was growing dim, and I even had to turn around once after taking a wrong turn, but by the map I found my way.

It was not until he saw the lights of our street that he was satisfied. He didn't trust that mommy knew what she was doing.

As He so faithfully does, God used this to remind me of something.
I have repeatedly found myself in a spiritual place where I've questioned, "Why am I here? Am I going the wrong direction? Should I have turned back there? If only I was the one driving the car..." (heaven forbid.)

I do not realize that unlike the mommy driver, my Driver knows every road, every bump, every hairpin turn, every rough spot.

"...He knoweth the way that I take..." (Job 23:10)

And as long as I don't eject myself out of my secure seat, I can trust Him to keep me safe and to get me where I need to be...Home.

Legalism

..the averting of one’s focus from the God of the Law to the Law itself.

It is Jesus who saves, and His salvation is personal, direct. It is not a business transaction, where one racks up enough ‘obedience points’ to make it to heaven.

If heaven is my goal, and not Jesus, I might have grown a bit cold in my love for Him and shifted my gaze to what I get out of the exchange.

Another word about ‘legalism’…it’s the war cry of many who want no rules, no guidelines, no limits. God is a God of limits, for our own good. What good shepherd lets his sheep wander without sheepfold, without crook and staff?

So with this in mind, I leave the subject of legalism. I’d rather not focus on the blind spot…much better to walk in the light, with my eyes on Jesus.

Pruning

I am growing tomatoes this year. Or attempting, in my own amateurish way. I have had mediocre results for the past two years, and true to my stubborn nature, I’m trying again. :)

One thing (possibly the only thing) I’ve learned about tomatoes is that they require vigorous pruning. Otherwise, they shoot leafy branches in every direction, and though full and luxurious-looking, they don’t give up much by way of edibles.

(My 3-year-old would disagree; he thinks that since we eat the leaves of our herbs, he can munch on all the foliage in the yard. I’ve caught him grazing several times.)

Many a day last summer found me hacking away at my little ‘mater plants, leaving stark, wounded stalks behind. But we got a lot more tomatoes out of them!

Once again, nature reminds us of a spiritual truth: like a tomato plant, we all need a little ‘pruning.’

What do I mean? Well, when I am making a fool of myself, I’m counting on you, dear friend, to give me a kind but jarring smack-in-the-face to wake me up.

This we should expect of our friends, and this we should also commit to those we love.

“Faithful are the wounds of a friend…”(Prov 27:6a)

What would the world be like without mirrors? What would we know of ourselves?

We’d likely dress for comfort, and not to impress. My hair would be sloppily blobbed on the top of my head—always—and secured with a scrunchy. The term “fashion faux pas” would not exist, though it would probably apply more than ever.

We need mirrors. And when we don’t have a full-length mirror to carry around with us, we need true friends. Loyal. Kind, but honest. Unafraid to oppose you for your own sake.

It is the loving parent who says, “you’re not going out in that,” or, “you’ve really messed up here. You need to fix it.” But why leave this hefty job to parents alone? It’s obvious we still need some pruning at this point: do we all don the Underpants of Profound Wisdom, or receive a full varnish of Dr. Miracle’s Mistake-Repellent Spray-Tan, the second we turn 18? Uh, I know I didn’t.

If I’m being honest, the majority of serious mistakes I’ve made have happened since I left home, while my parents weren’t close by to knock me back into the middle of the ’straight and narrow’…and frankly, the kind but searing words of a friend have been my saving grace. Literally.

“Let a righteous man strike me—it is a kindness; let him rebuke me—it is oil for my head; let my head not refuse it.” Psalm 141:5, ESV

A faithful friend loves you enough to let you know you’ve tucked your skirt into your pantyhose before you leave the bathroom, or that your breath rivals the stench from the monkey house at the zoo (what IS IT about that place? Is it the flinging of …er, stuff… that produces the wretched fog? Perhaps there’s a lesson in that, too…). Or that you’re really going to mess up your life if you do _____________. (Hint: a scripture or two would be helpful for backup; just don’t prepare a sermon. Perhaps a sermonette, or exhortation. Poetry or a vigorous round of Charades would work nicely, too. Scripturally sound, of course.)

A true friend will risk offending you for the sake of a heartfelt warning.

Just between you and me, I will admit (don’t tell anyone) that I actually crave a little honest rebuke once in a while. Not the kind where we’re yelling at the top of our lungs and the truth comes out with crushing, brute force… but sometimes I yearn for someone to gently remind me how obvious my flaws are, and that I need a little self-control/Binaca.

To me, even negative feedback is better than none at all. And honest criticism is far better than insincere compliments slathered thickly on the ego.

“…deceitful are the kisses of an enemy.” (Prov 27:6b)

So, get out those pruning shears and be a friend today. :)

--what's that? "Not my job," you say? Hmm.. Are we the Body of Christ? (Yes.) Paul spoke in Galatians 2:11 of his uncomfortable, yet necessary job of confronting Peter, his fellow apostle, for hypocrisy. Peter seems to have taken the rebuke well, since in his own epistle, he calls Paul "our beloved brother." (2 Peter 3:15) It may not be the initial example that comes to mind when one asks to be used of God...yet it is just as valid and needful as other, more glorious operations of the Body.

Oh, and one last word: if it’s not spoken with humility and kindness, it doesn’t count. (Many thanks to you, dear friends. You know who you are.)

He lives, and so shall you!

It takes a lot of faith to believe someone who is dead will live again.

Lazarus was not only dead, but stinking. Any hope of healing was gone. Martha said, "if only you were here a few days ago, my brother would still be alive.."

But that's just it. Sometimes we want God to heal us, heal our situation, fix the problem. But God knows it is impossible to be healed from 'sin sickness' without dying first. "Without shedding of blood is no remission (of sins)" (Hebrews 9:22)

For if we were healed without dying first, we could still live on unto ourselves, not having crucified the 'old man' of sin. The real problem would remain.

Life lived unto ourselves is no life at all. Jesus replied to Martha, "I AM the resurrection and the Life." True life, as Adam and Eve experienced before the fall, can only be where sin is absent, and this only happens in Jesus. So when we are resurrected with Christ, it is His life we live, not our own.

"God commended His love toward us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."
'Commended' here means "brought together." So God brought His love and us together. But since He cannot abide with sin, sinless blood was required for us to be brought together with Him. He shed His own blood to cover our sin, erasing the curse of death that separated us from Him. "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself" (2 Cor 5:19).

But blood can only be transferred where there is an open wound.

In Isaiah chapter 1, the people of Judah were brimming over with sin, filthy, with hands 'full of blood' (bloodguiltiness). God described them as full of sores, open wounds, "putrifying sores," from head to toe. But it isn't simply the presence of sin that brings His forgiveness; if that were the case, we'd all be saved already without repentance.

In Galatians, where Paul said, "I am crucified with Christ," the words literally mean "impaled together with Christ," as if the nails and sword that pierced Him pierced us too in the same thrust. This requires something of us. Something voluntary. It isn't just the sickness of our open wounds that readies us for His blood...it is the voluntary nearness to Jesus in the act of dying to our sins that prompts Him to bring His love to us. "Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you" (James 4:8). And when we are crucified with Him, "mortifying the deeds of the flesh," the blood shed in His death flows to our open wound, annihilating the poison in our blood, abolishing the bonds of death. Praise God!!

When death occurs, the first thing to decay is the blood. The curse of sin was passed to us through the 'bloodline' of Adam. Leviticus 17:11: the life of the flesh is in the blood, and when diseased, that means the death of the flesh is in the blood.

Why is Jesus the only one who could save us? Whereas sickness is spread among man by infected blood, Jesus' sinless blood is not subject to this. Rather, healing is spread by His blood...a reversal of the curse of sin. This could only happen outside the paternal bloodline of Adam. Jesus, Son of God, was the only one who could conquer sin.

How imperative that we have His blood cover us! There truly is no hope, as Martha felt, otherwise. The disease will not be cured without death to sin...for if sinful man is not killed, he will yet have his reward: 'the wages of sin is death' (Romans 6:23). Our choice is either death now, voluntarily, being crucified with Christ, that we may LIVE with Him...or death later, without hope of resurrection.

What is that hope? David said, "Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell." Our death (repentance) and burial (baptism in His name) is our step toward Him. It is the "draw nigh to God" part. And because He will not leave us buried in the ground, "He will draw nigh to you." He brings us to life, not just a cleaner version of our former selves, but NEW, as if the sinful man had never lived!

The mark of this is evident: "The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God" (Romans 8:16). This happens with Holy Ghost baptism, evidenced by speaking in other tongues (Acts 2).

Because He rose again, so shall we! Not only in this New Birth, but even more to His glory on That Day!

So, what shall we do? Shall we choose to live on in sin, asking again and again for healing, when what we need to do is die? Or shall we choose to die now, and find true life in Jesus?

I choose now! Now is the day of salvation. While it is yet day, let us draw nigh to God with repentant hearts, crucifying the old man, that we may live in Him!

"I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me."

Happy Easter!!

Do you smell smoke? Where's my fiddle?

I watched history being made tonight as our lawmakers voted on behalf of tyranny, and not liberty. The evil designs of a few poisoned and clawed and bought their way into the minds of others, and the will of the people of our nation was ignored. I shudder to think of the price the innocent will pay for this crime.

Before I get too dramatic (too late, right?), I will say this: there is nothing new under the sun. This is not the first time evil has torn to shreds the fluffy blankie of blissful ignorance under which many of the fearful--ahem, faithful--few are hiding. They're whispering, "Is it over yet?" Um, it's just begun. And yes, I can see you under there.

Israel begged to be ruled by a king rather than God. God, who knew their frame, understanding their tendency to worship tangible things (or people), knew the danger of this prideful prospect. Yet He gave in because they whined long enough. "Don't say I didn't warn you." was His response.

Sorry, but that rag you're hiding under--that sand you buried your head in--will not keep the floodwaters out. You will get wet.

What can we learn about the tumultuous history of Israel?
Two things are true:

Anything governed by people who have separated themselves from God will be corrupt.

God will always have a bloodline, a people, a church, for His own namesake, not because we're so great. Let's thank God for this before we start patting ourselves on the back.

One thing entertainment has done to us is to have removed any sense of outrage at something truly abominable. Our sensitivities have become so twisted that for most, a vote like tonight's, which will adversely affect the life of each man, woman, and child in our country (if they even have the privilege of being born), hardly hits the radar.

Yet basketball brings such a rise out of people, they can't stop tweeting about it. Even at a time like this.

This brings new meaning to the term 'March Madness.'

I have nothing against basketball. Unless you choose to watch it 'while Rome burns.'

But this isn't about sports. It's the profound consequences we have brought upon our children because we have forgotten God.

The children of Israel found themselves enslaved every time they chose to worship pagan gods. A good king, then an evil king. Then a good king, and an evil king. Suffering, repentance, brief relief, neglect of the things of God, and more suffering. It's a predictable pattern. You'd think we'd learned from it by now.

"I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore, choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live." (Deut.30:19)

Well, we've chosen. God help us.

Don't mention it

Exodus 23:13: "And in all things that I have said unto you be circumspect: and make no mention of the name of other gods, neither let it be heard out of thy mouth."

And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. (Eph. 5:11)

Talking heads, everywhere. About everything. Nothing is taboo, even in the pulpit (gasp).

Oh, that unruly member, the tongue!

Nay, though nature has hedged it in with a double barrier of the lips and teeth, it bursts from its barriers to assail and ruin men [ESTIUS].

You brood of vipers, how can you, being evil, speak what is good? For the mouth speaks out of that which fills the heart. (Matthew 12:34)

If anyone thinks himself to be religious, and yet does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this man's religion is worthless. (James 1:26)

Oh, be careful, little tongue, what you say...

Thankful

On a bulletin board in my closet, there is a card that accompanied these flowers for Valentine’s Day. I will not cheapen its beautiful message (or elicit awkwardness) by relaying it. But it was sweet, and perfect, and I will keep it forever. Because it came from a loving, living, breathing, healthy man who holds my heart.

In numerous recent conversations, we have contemplated with awe the ordeal that now feels like a dream, or a trip to an alternate universe.

It was as if the heavy curtain of normalcy was lifted for a few months, and passage was granted–forced–into a world thickly clogged with hospitals, sickness, uncertainty, struggle, and tears, and where that wrenching hollowness in the pit of your stomach reminds you that your life is but a feeble flicker and could be snuffed out any minute. Funny...about nine months ago, I had thought that curtain was a concrete wall. Not so.

Even as I write this, it occurs to me that in a moment, we could be catapulted back into that world, but by the grace of God.

What is it that compels me to trust the curtain and its predictable pattern more than the everlasting Arms that hung it? My comfortable, expected daily existence may vanish in a moment, but He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Here I must stop and lift my hands to thank Him once again for His grace. Come what may tomorrow, His plan is perfect, He is our hiding place, our place of rest and peace, and there is no dark crevice in the rough terrain of human experience where He cannot be found. “Though I make my bed in hell, thou art there,” David said.

Tonight, in the midst of evening routine and preoccupied thoughts about tomorrow, I glanced at that little card and was struck by the unfathomable mercy of my God. He has kept us, protected us, provided for us, healed our broken hearts, and supplied supernatural hope, strength, peace… I will not forget His benefits!

I am not a widow, but by the grace of God.

My husband is not confined to a wheelchair, or walker, or cane, and possesses all his faculties (aside from hearing loss on his right side), but by the grace of God.

My children have a father to teach them how to catch a football, but by the grace of God.

He bears in his body the scars. Evidence of God’s mercy upon those for whom life is a vapor, a passing shadow.

So now I run back to the Healer and cast at His feet these flowers that, though a bit wilted by now, testify to His unspeakable grace. He has kept us. His mercy is everlasting, and His truth endures forever.

Lord, I will not fail to give You the glory for this miraculous story we have lived.

I will repeat it, recall it, remember it. I will not forget Your design, Your plan, Your perfect timing. And whatever tomorrow brings, I will remember that it is You who are First and Last, Author and Finisher, and Your promises do not fail. I rest in you tonight, thankful.

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.” (Isaiah 26:3)

In search of the Perfect Bread recipe

I am a fledgling bread maker, and have yet to find the best recipe/method for perfect whole-wheat sandwich bread.

Any tips?

I do not have a bread machine. I’m not afraid of a little kneading, though it’s not my favorite pastime.

I don’t use shortening or margarine.

In my travels through Breadsylvania thus far, I’ve only gotten as far as Hockey Puck hamlet and Chewy Chapel Downs (that is, my bread has turned out more dense and harder than I hope, and more chewy than I like, for those of you in Rio Linda).

So, all of you out there in radioland who have the secret map to the holy grail of breadmaking,

Lay it on me!

the secret ingredient

A good name is better than precious ointment, and the day of death than the day of one’s birth; better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men; and the living will take it to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, For by a sad countenance the heart is made better. (Ecclesiastes 7:1-2)

Sorrow: the element that makes one’s life sweeter.

Solomon writes here about life. Had he not known the pain of death, the sweetness of life would not appear to him.

I speak not of sorrow left to mold and embitter the heart, but to deliver one in agony to the feet of Jesus, where that sorrow can be turned to joy, and the master carpenter can craft from splinters and dust a new building for His glory.

Those who have tasted cookies baked without salt understand that without salt, the flavor has no balance. That savory element is needed to define the sweet. To put it in context, if you will.

Tears shed in sorrow enhance the sweetness of life.

We found out two days before our daughter was born that my husband had a very large brain tumor. It pressed on his brain stem and had cost him his hearing on one side. We knew the Hand of God was directing the details, so we sat back and trusted, trembling, but confident in His faithfulness. And when she was born, there was something complex and beautiful about the joy we felt this time. There are few surprises in the birth of your fourth child, but we rejoiced in a new way, knowing the mercy of God that keeps us daily and, while not preventing every storm, gives us peace and strength to ride it out.

Why would God allow such difficulty to come in a young man’s life? Because it is now, early, that He wants us to learn the beauty of sorrow, the glory in suffering, the joy that is set before us that renders the present suffering unworthy of shame.

And why does He not change our circumstances when we ask in faith, believing? Might it be to train our eyes Upward, looking to Jesus, the (Author and) Finisher who knows the End and that it is good?

There is purpose, always purpose, in suffering. And yes, it is good. Oh, that we would grasp that purpose and take it to heart! Thereby the heart is made better, and life is sweeter.

I've got it

love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance…

they’re all there. Installed when the Holy Ghost came in.

Why do I doubt it? This is the Spirit of Christ we’re speaking of. He is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think. That power is in me, if I have the Holy Ghost.

So why don’t I feel it?
Because I must ’stir up the gift,’ as Paul said to Timothy. Often. How to have access to this bottomless resource of all that is good and needful? Stir it up!

(What do I mean by 'stir it up?' Pray. Fast. Read the Word, focus on Him. Sing to Him, whenever, wherever. Etc.)

No more asking God for strength–the Joy of the Lord is my strength, and that comes with the Gift.
No more asking for patience, because longsuffering came with the package.

And no more requests submitted to God because I don’t feel like putting forth the effort. Too comfy right now…”will do that later, Lord, but while you’re around, would you add another cushion under my left foot? It’s a bit achy. Scratch the ol’ big toe while you’re down there. And how’s about a sandwich?”

Really? Has He done so much for me only for me to reject the bit of effort required to follow Him?

It’s like refusing to drive a Jaguar because turning the key in the ignition sounds like too much work.

Ok, I’ll admit it’s a bit hard to stir it up sometimes, especially when it’s been a while and the sediment on the bottom of the soul is rather thick…like trying to re-distribute the layer of oil on the top of natural peanut butter while it’s still cold from the fridge.

But that’s the deal, folks.
It’s a free gift, but it’ll cost you.
The reward is immeasurable, but elbow grease will be involved.

If you’ve seen the beauty of vinegar and baking soda at work, you understand that sometimes a little stirring is all it takes to get the reaction you need.

…hmm..chemical reaction. Should blog about that, too.

Nutshell: If you have received the Holy Ghost (which you need!), you have been grafted into that Root that draws from the everlasting well, and if you have repented and been baptized, there is no cloud of sin to obstruct the Sun from your face. You are the tree in Psalm 1. You have ‘access to the excess,’ as one of my favorite preachers once said.

You are not ill-equipped to fulfill your role in the Body of Christ! You’ve got everything you need. The treasure is there. Stir it up!

(much appreciation to Rev. Rufus Parker, whose ‘Morning Manna’ on January 19 inspired this post.)

He would rather

It would be grand to make His home
amongst the sun and stars
Or build Himself a mansion on the other side of Mars

His house could be a castle filled with statues and fine art
But He would rather live inside your heart.

It could be that on ancient stone
He’d speak in paint and ink
Or leave His love notes scrawled in minty toothpaste in the sink

He could have carved his words on little pebbles in the brook
But He would rather put them in a Book.

He could listen to great symphonies
and poet’s famous verse,
Or hear the wrens and bluejays with their tweets and squawks converse.

His favorite sound could be the forest’s rustling leaves and limbs
But He would rather hear you talk to Him.

You could swim in vats of money and
wear clothes of solid gold,
Have all the games and food and fun and stuff that you behold

He could spoil you silly, load you down ‘til “Uncle!” you could plead
But He would rather give you all you need.

You could wish to change your nose to one
much smaller than you’ve got
Or your face could be more pink or brown with fewer specks and spots

It might be your desire to change your looks upon a whim,
But He would rather make you look like Him.

He could fashion the most beautiful
And grand celestial maid,
With glitt’ring hair and stars for eyes, who all His words obeyed

She could radiate with glory, be the object of His pride,
But He would rather take you as His bride.

You could go by Bobby, Spencer, Carter,
Chucky, Goose, or Rick
Or answer to Jemima, Little Lucy or Big Nick

But those don’t carry quite enough distinction or acclaim
For He would rather call you by His Name.

It was His gentle, skillful hand
that formed your little face,
And in His book inscribed your members in that secret place

He commands the rain and sunshine, taught the birds to build their nest
He’s the One who loves you most, and He knows best.

–written for my kids, Summer 2009.

We cannot but speak...

We cannot but speak what we have seen and heard… (Acts 4:20)

My eight-year-old is a talker. Everything he notices, everything he hears gets repeated. Everything that’s on is mind is spoken out loud. It can drive us all a bit crazy. It’s all innocent observation and interest, and for the most part, it’s thrilling as a mother for me to see his mind developing and watch him make new connections between principles and facts. He loves to learn, and I love that about him. But he is a talker.

One issue we have in particular is his tendency to tell everything about every scene in a movie he has seen before, spoilers and all. There is no boundary in his mind (yet) that prevents him from ruining the movie for someone else who hasn’t seen it.

He is literally unable to hinder any previous experience from making its way out of his mouth. The memory is so real, the excitement so potent, that it is unthinkable to keep it to himself alone.

I find intriguing the human process of experience-to-thought-to-words to which we are all bound. Intake determines product, “garbage in, garbage out,” “you are what you eat,” etc. I’ve blogged about that before. But it’s so true, I’ve got to address it again.

What we have been watching, we talk about. What we have been listening to, the conversations we’ve heard, are what we repeat.

What am I listening to? What do I put before my eyes? it is inevitably that which will come out of my mouth. Because we are made to be witnesses. And whether we use that element in our design for good or evil, we will nonetheless use it. Witnesses of something.

Our eyes are always seeing…what is it they see? For it is of this that we will witness. What do we hear? It is this we will repeat.

You cannot but speak that which you have seen and heard. It will come out, despite your attempts to stifle it. It is the natural flow to life.

Herein lies the beauty of God’s perfect plan. Having designed us with this tendency to repeat and reproduce what has entered our existence by our senses, He placed in us this ‘treasure in earthen vessels‘ that is so powerful, it trumps everything else! No experience can compare. And it’s ongoing… ‘further up, further in,’ so to speak. There’s no end to this amazing trip, so there’s always something more to say.

It is therefore my goal to seek Him with my eyes, studying His Word, and listen for His Voice with my ears…the ‘witness’ part is inevitable.