Beyond Hopeful Dreams

I was 15 my first Christmas. For my family twinkle lights and christmas trees were out of reach. Then at 15 we began to brake free from the cult that we were raised in. My father was in prison and our family had been broken beyond our own understanding, we needed some twinkle in our lives. So I believe out of survival of our hearts my mother decided that this would be the year that we'd celebrate with a Christmas tree.  I had never seen something so beautiful before. It was covered from top to bottom with twinkle lights. Today the tree would be almost considered naked as we did not have one orgimant. To me our tree was so full of beauty. It was Christmas eve and I could not sleep for this was the first magical thing that had happened in my life that seemed so breathe taking. So with my blanket I slept under our first tree. Because of this,Twinkle trees have always carried such a special meaning for me. I can hardly wait to put one up and I am alway sad to see it come down. It is as in the moment our christmas tree goes up my heart takes flight in a beautiful hope that there is freedom in beauty, in the belief that even when all the lights goes out there is this twinkle of hope. If I could have it all my way I would have a tree up all year around, but my husband does not share in its same sentiment as I. So every year we share the same discussion of my wish and his instruction and the tree comes down. 

Last year was the first time I didn't have a twinkle tree sense I was a young lady. My heart struggled with that. We moved 1500 miles from our home just a few short days after christmas, so it was unpractical to put up a tree. Just less then a week ago God has blessed us with this beautiful home. Our first night here I looked out our bedroom window and across the expansion of dark desert lay the twinkle lights of the city. It took my breath away. There was my twinkle lights all year around. Gods pure love for me and knowing my heart so well gave me such an intimate gift. It is as if I am sleeping beneath His tree every night. My heart is in  pause of his unfettered and complete romancing of my heart. It amazes me even more that he moved us to a place where there is more clear nights and mornings then I've seen before. For as I sleep under His tree of lights at night I wake to the sun coming up over the Superstition Mountains in the morning. They lay across the whole of my bedroom window, where the sun kisses the sky with hews of peach and blue and then in the evening the sun dances ribbons of rose and purple and gold as far as the eyes can see. Yet still in the noon of the day it is quail and bunnies that play in the desert between us and the city. What a romantic playful God that he would love me so much to play on my heart his music of life and romance, freedom and blessing.

I could have never seen this beauty from where my beloved live. For this beauty is from only God who has called us according to His good plans. It is in the desert where he is making me free. I feel so unworthy, or better yet a loss of words. There seems no words that can carry the depths of his love for me across the pages to the core of your being. I just know that my Lord loves us and I love the way that he loves me. 

He Loves Me

 He Loves me 

I do not have a worldly father example of a daddies love so the journey of being fathered by God has been somewhat challenging. I feel as though it's safe to say that most of the world is lacking in being fathered. This has become a rare thing indeed to be fathered the way God designed it to be. Although I have had the privilege to see wonderful fathers at work with there own children and so from watching and desiring, how Jesus loves me is being revealed. 

It started first for me the deeper truer call of the father through the way I played. He'd call me to the edge of reality through mystery of my soul unveiling each fairly tale dream. The constant themes through out my play consisted of being wanted my by good Daddy my King father which made me a princess. But, of coarse there is never a good tale without an adventure. I wanted to be a heart a missionary who spoke to people around the world who started orphanages for children with out mommies and daddies and for little girls who needed good mommies and daddies like me. 

It was in the fair tales where Jesus fathered me. The dust devils made the perfect dance partners where the leaves would swirl around me at the end of our street. My hand sown dresses made perfect cones shapes. There I would twirl for my daddy and he'd twirl with me. I loved the clovers in the open fields. Each suckle taste of honey and it was there I make my crown and put is on my straggly bleach blond hair, I would catch the honey bees that danced from one clover blossom to the next. Then with out one sting Jesus would keep the honey bee still on my finger while I touched the pollen collected on its back legs. How He helped me discover the most beautiful fish ever. There in the Willamette River I saw the biggest fish I'd ever seen. It had been hooked but gotten away. The sun filtered through the biggest oak trees to shed just enough light in the rock cove where the light danced off it's silvery gills. I lay in my dress reaching down as far as I could go and lightly smoothed the back of this amazing fish and it did not move. There I talked to this fish for what seemed hours, where I imagined it telling me stories of it river journey.  Then with out a fright this beautiful fish swam away as if to say thank you and goodbye! He fathered me in the blades of tall prairie grass, where I learned how to call to the ducks that would fly out of the fields. I'd blow, then the ducks would call. I'd blow again then the ducks would call. This went on and on till the seasons would change. We dodged the giant blue barrie bushes where we picked for the orphans who had no food, and there we'd each eat one for my father one for me, one for my father one for me. There in my salt water sandals and my knee length dress where my toes sat on the edge of the slue, I'd share my bushel of blue berries with Him. Little did I know he was with me each and every time. He was there in the wind after I brushed my hair as if to rub the top of my head and brush my cheek with a gentle breeze, a kiss from the father. He was also with me on the play ground at school where I often played alone. We'd swing together long after the bell would ring. It was on the wooden castle he would call me down to come with him to the house on the other side. This was where I'd hide out and sing songs. This is where I first memorized a bible verse. The funny smelling woman with felt boards and red velvet everywhere had a mat waiting just for me. And, every time I missed the bus he was with me on my five mile walk home, where we'd kick the smallest rock the whole way home knowing that I would not be going to the river today. When I was so sad that the breeze did not land with its kisses, He was in the dandelion puff that made for all the wishes to come. On the long scary nights He was the father in the corner that I would see till I fell asleep. 

It has been in every single moment of my days that I know now, yet only today where Jesus was fathering me in the places where my daddy ruined how he looked at me. Jesus it still in every moment in every kiss in the breeze and in every playful imaginary thing. 

The Windows Of My Heart

The Windows Of My Heart

Through my brokenness I find myself boarding up my heart fast. For so long I lived from a place where the only way to see or hear from me was through a tiny peephole in which a single beam from the outside world would trickle in. It was through this tiny hole God chose to faithfully visit me. It was from this tiny hole I experienced Jesus. Every once in a while I'd hear his voice and I'd know it was him on the other side. For he was the only one who would speak to me that way. Although I saw him far less then I desired in my life. The longer I stayed in my home of brokenness the more I viewed Jesus and the world through this very small perspective. Thus my view and experience of Jesus was as small as my peephole. Yet the tenderness of God only allowed me to stay this way for a little while. My understanding that Jesus faithfully visited every once in a while was incorrect in its furthest truths. There just next to my opening He'd sit waiting for me to draw near. For me this took years and he waited and waited.

As He has began to heal me through his love for me I have only started to unbind places for the Lord to enter. But, as I took down the barriers It also made away for others to enter in. There God had a community of people that are close to his heart. Never once did they look at me as broken but, rather so lovingly for the first time. This love made me want to remove more barriers then before. 

Time went by and God began to rebuild my house. Through this process I've found  that in times of deep rooted pain I frantically try to cover all the places where I'm exposed. There is no way I can board up this house for it no longer is the same. I find that I am angry, afraid, more like terrified, and hurt. Then like a depression the thought travels through my mind effortlessly saying "You idiot you should have know it all would end this way". Uh, the tug a war of the soul for the prize of my heart. Of course freedom is worth the price, but the price at times feels more then my heart can bare. 

So all this really says is that I am so small in my faith, that my understanding of Gods heart for me is limited to my exposer to him, my perception of him.  The past few weeks I've been hiding like a beaten child in the dark rooms of my heart. There through the key hole a familiar voice and light talks to me from the other side. So softly and tenderly as before He ask if he can come in again. It is not that I have chose to just shut Him out but it is everyone that I am wanting to shut out. My heart is broken and the grief is crushing me. I know that to my heart again means restoration and healing and thats what I long for. This also means that others have access to my heart. 

Not long ago a friend reminded me of the story of Peter when he denied Jesus at the time of his greatest need. The utter brokenness that Peter must have felt was tremendous indeed. I cannot help but feel that after Jesus has risen from the grave He calls from the shore to the disciples who are fishing for the sole purpose of Peters redemption. For it was Peter who said, Its the Lord and jumped in the water and swam desperately to the shore. It was on the shore that the risen Lord receives Peter and he is redeemed. 

Just the very thought that he rises from the dead and sits at the door of my broken heart time and time again waiting and calling so lovingly to me to let him in again is purely because he is in love with me. That his great love for me could not be quenched through death and fire, sorrow or time. But that he will wait only so long before he reaches in out of pure love to redeem what has been so desperately lost. It is this time of sorrow that I discover my ever living need and find that my redemption cannot happen out of my strength but through my realization of my need utter need for my fiercely devoted God who has loved me to faithfully. 

The cowering prisoners will soon be set free;

they will not die in their dungeon

nor will they lack bread

For I am the Lord you God,

who churns up the sea so that its waves roar

the Lord Almighty is his name.

I have put my words in your mouth and 

covered you with the shadow of my hand

I who set the heavens in place,

who laid the foundations of the earth,

and who say to Zion, you are my people

Isaiah 51:14-16 NIV

The Promise Of Healing

The Promise Of Healing

Last year at this time my heart grew in this weighty heaviness. As though I was standing on the edge of winter in my life. It seemed as if there was a promise of danger an understanding of danger that was lurking in the frigid icy winters. 

I set in my sanctuary room where I asked my father what it was that he wanted to talk with me about. I do not know why it is that when we hear God speak to us we think of it in small terms with out a moving epic power. I know that his words heal and raise people from the dead but, to transfer this power into my life in this real time has seemed somewhat different then the stoic testimonies of scripture. 

Good morning Lord! What do you want to say to me?

My beloved be eager in seeking me like a new love. I want to be wanted by you. 

Lord I said, show me how to love you. 

My beloved He said, you do love me.  You have boundaries on your love. 

Lord I replied, what are those?

Oh, Gloria they are your gates of fear, let down your fear and let me love you there. 

Lord, my heart knows of this place. I fear tragedy and being homeless, and loosing my child. Lord, its more then those things its the feelings and beliefs that have rode on the hems of those circumstances. The fear that I may have not herd from you and that I lead my family astray. Lord, you are the only one who can relieve my fear. What do you have for me to hear and understand? 

From your fear He said you do not know me. Have I not brought your needs thus far and loved you tenderly. When did you believe that I stopped loving you through your need. Remember stand in how I love you. I will never leave you. Glorious you are my beloved so let down the gates of fear. 

Lord I said, I give you my fear and I set it at your feet. Consume all of me Lord leaving nothing for the enemy. I believe you love and I choose to love you the way you love me. I give you my fears, my joys, my sorrows, and my delight. I take my place as the bride of your heart. Lord I love you. 

I began to write down the different ways that God has loved me and the more I wrote the more this fear began to evaporate like the warm sun shining of the chill of fog. Over 35 different way I wrote down and then I stopped. Showing it to the Lord he has said as gentle a loving father. 

Write more and more. So after many many hours of writing I asked him if that is was good and he said to keep writing. I felt confused. I opened my bible to Malachi 4:6. It was there that God commissioned a scroll of remembrance to be written. It was there that this book of the way He loves me was birthed. Could be that as we all read this that we use the power of God to trample out fear in our lives. 

It is nearly a year later and my oldest daughter who is 14 is moving away from me to live with her father. My heart broken under this crushing weight of that which is the desire of her heart. Could I let her have this redeemed man that God ordained to be her father bestow on her the eyes of a father that I never have seen. I could not keep her to my self for fear.  So with all the power of the Holy Spirit of God I release her to her father to experience the love of an earthy father. All the while this book is nearly finished. We have been just a breath all along from homelessness and God has never left us alone Just like he promised!

Come to me all you who are weary and burned and I will give you rest

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me

For I am gentle and humble in heart

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me

"You will find rest for you souls 

You will find rest for you souls~Aaron Shust

Loving Me In Repentance

Loving Me In Repentance

Somewhere in the deep confines of my / our heart is this belief that if we want to experience the release of holy grace then we need to be holy. That we need to walk blameless before man and God. 

Although in simplistic terms of be good, and God will reward you; makes sense in light that the terms that the world lives by. Like, if you work hard you will be wealthy. But, the ladder seems to fall so short from the heart of God. 

But he said to me, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. (2 Cor 12:9)

There are countless times in which I have fallen short of the Glory of God. It seems in my good doing there is a flavor lingering that taste of selfishness, pride and most often fear, you might as well through in jealousy. I am the least deserving of His sufficient grace. At each and every time of repentance it's taste is so bitter. I have spent and believe I will continue be  on my knees in repentance. I know that this is a sure sign of his love for me, but the experience differers from what my flesh expects. 

We fall in love or lust and both feel good. Lust withers away and dies by the way sides of our heart while love brings comfort to your bones even in the desert. The same is in repentance, and being sorry. Sorry is a generally painless apology where repentance brings you to a level of humiliation with the hope that God will restore you to good standing. For me sorry comes to easily. I not long ago was telling my husband that there is a part of me that wishes I could stand before the world and ask everyone how is it that I'v hurt, or disappointed. Then offer a blanket apology. I know as efficient as this sounds  my heart would be removed and in the end I would be left unchanged and hard hearted.  This is what I could not bear. My heart unchanged. It is my hearts cry that He would carry me to the table and bleed me to see the depth of his love will not leave in me all that He has intended to complete. 

I used to think that I was so lucky to read a book or listen to some story and learn the biggest lessons in life as to avoid uncomfortable aches of humility. God in His commitment to the romancing of my heart takes me through this journey not unscathed but limping so that I can remember that all the while it was him that sustained me, that it was Him who carried me through. All the stories and books have been the journeys of those that have walk this road before me, not in the place of me. 

Lord to you this I pray I lay it all down 

pour over me your merciful hand

Find me at the cross each day 

my God this I pray 

Guard my mouth and the words that stray

silence my flesh as all I want to here

Is only what you would say

Set this Absalom free, I am pleading to be

like you lord in all that I say and do

Lord take my pride and crucify it 

till none remain

Then my God my Lord and Holy Spirit

takes its place in me

That I may be a blessing to you

a sweet smelling sacrifice worthy of my blessed King

~Amen~ 

A Lepers Heart

A Lepers Heart

My heart lay feverish on the cold damp floor with my exiled body. It was as if my heart bore the sore of a leper sickened late in the decease. Shriveled, dismembered and infected. Years of abuse lay waste to what barely felt human. Hollow lonely with scarily a heart beat. There's not much that has really changed from that long ago, where the better would be desired to live alone untouched. To where ever I'd go I would not have to be seen as unclean. Even though dressed in my best all the world could see that my heart was leprous indeed.

This heart broken beyond repair to the world. Put her in FairFax said some medical professionals, she's just a whore and always will be, she deserves to be mistreated, look at her she's worthless said family. Before attending here you must rid yourself of some sin were the words of a church. For me there was not much difference of that then the lepers of old. There was this sick perception to die alone seemed easier then to live with the shame of others. 

Then with out a reason known to me the gaze of God rested on me. It trickled in as silent and warm and the comfort of a warm blanket lay crossed cold shoulders in sleep. For this momentary glimpse was as heaven sent as that of an infant invading earth while the earth made ready for a man, a king. Drawing me out in front the crowd. You could almost here the scoffers murmuring amongst them selves. She is unworthy, God has no use for her. Then as if the very sovereignty of God shout their mouths silence fell like a silk sheets on the wind as Jesus reaches out and touches my diseased heart. Just the worth of his embrace brought me to my knees where my tears soaked the souls of my mockers feet. She is my beloved he spoke as his gentle voice, yet so commanding it rippled and quaked the strongest of mountains. To day this day I have healed her and set her free. No longer will you ever be seen as the world has believed you to be. You are my beloved who I am in love with.

There God reached out his mighty hand lifted me up so that I could stand. He wrapped is royal garments about me and whispered so tenderly would you my beloved come and walk with me. As if my feet could not contain each step was freeing. It was my Lord that called me forth for it was not that anyone wanted to do or seen in me. But that God called and made me according to his plan. My blessed redeemer, my loving friend, my only father, my saviour till the end. ~ I love the way you love me

To The Shore And Back Again

To The Shore and Back Again

It's at the shore of the river where our dreams seem just out of our grasp where the rivers rage in high season. There I stand again on the rocks that once my feet cradled each stone perfectly but this time with my little girl. Well, she is hardly little; the argument for this weighs on the her beautiful shoulders at fourteen. The waters slap our feet and it is as if light has filled in her eyes. For on the other side of this winding river is our dream daddies  where their love knows no bounds. It really has not been that long where I my self dreamed of what my heart so desperately longed for. I was curtain that it lay behind the dense woods where the sunlight danced on the ancient oaks and whispered of treasures untold. 

Today I find myself along this shore again, but this time I am not alone No, next to me with eyes as big as can be my daughter has spotted what could be her daddy. Her quest although incomplete began 14 years ago where I lay under the oaks trees loosing hope that there would be a day to cross into freedom. It was then I was given my beloved darling. Not a day would go by for years where she asked for a daddy and why did all the other girls have daddies. My words at the start were stifled in rich tenderness for her broken world that she was born into. Quaint and flat was my reply as I felt so alone near the shore was, there are no daddies for us. Time seem to skip moons and sunrises and that battle for desire raged on in the hearts of two broken girls who knew no daddy.  

For the last 8 years this treasure this gift, my beloved seemed to know of this secret joy, this secret spender. It was everyday that she would ask is my daddy over there? Can we go look for him over there? I would cringe at the grinding in my soul of a little lost me longing for my home. Yet for years all I could see is her studying the shore in waiting for her father to be. As time went on the roles shifted, not entirely one can hope. But, to any little girl 14 years is a long time and for her mom I have returned from the other side. I could see her turn away and gaze at other things. So I pray, Lord come let her see your face those daddy eyes every girl needs to embrace the truer her today. The tears shed on that shore to the canopy echos can't endure and He arranges things to bring us to our knees for my little girl is pleading with me. Singing my familiar song it will never be. 

Then like a shot in the dark. A daddy voice penetrates to the heart. Like living water on a dreary soul running over to more. She, my beloved hears a fathers voice. There she runs to the waters edge where hope has stirred. There I found my self to be hand in hand waiting with time coming. Tis, the day come soon He said where she will take this trip from the waters edge. Will I bid her good bye from the shore of my desires. Then with just a glimpse she sees daddies eyes and I have lost her to the other side. It was my prayer you see, but nearly all I can bare to grieve. It is no longer just my daughter on the shore with me. 

Could I not come to those of us who wait for those enduring eyes where we are the beauty for a life. Where our daddy is happy just sitting by our side, where there is not need for more, but it is all that you are that is just what hung the moon. All I can say to those who are weary and long for life, is this. You daddy is coming for just you and he will call you by a new name like darling that he gave to my daughter not many days from today. 

Like the lilly among thorns

is my darling among maidens

Song of Song 2:2

He Calls He Saves

He Calls He Saves

From the time I was a little girl I dreamed of being an author. At first the dream started with the day dreams of a lonely little girl that wrote and delivered messages for the king that lived across the Willamette River. To spinning the globe in our home telling all the world about a message that was waiting for them. It was all the danger this little girl missionary could could handle. As I got older my imagination was more of a reality that I wanted to believe in. so I would constantly tell the stories that I dream as if they were real with my family. The stories never were received as innocently as they were imagined up. The negative responses began to stifle my courage to share my desires outside of my imagination.  

As I fell clumsily into my teen years that carried the stench of pain and remorse, I began to write poetry. They were dark and would send chills up the spine of the strongest of souls. They sang the songs of a deeply broken girl who had lived to much life for her age. My ability to articulate all that I needed to was frozen in time and writing became in it's twisted form my ability to free my bloodied soul.

In my early twenties I could barley utter a word. I did not know what I liked, or what I wanted. The very idea of living one more day was suffocating to the core and I was loosing my ability to function. I know longer could write and I was reduced to cutting out pictures and placing them on my wall. It was then that the owner of a halfway house I was bunked up in, decided that I needed some help beyond what they understood. It was there the long journey of learning to talk again began through the form of writing. For three months I could not speak, for all that I had become and went through had built it's walls and it all was killing me. It was through patches of brokenness spilling out through the ink of my pin that began to etch in my heart an ancient call of day dreams before. There hope began to grow as though it was in ti's most tender form. Writing although through soggy tears and broken dreams I began to write life as I understood it to be. 

In my late twenties I went through the most life changing God ordained freedom know to any heart in prisoned by the damage of depravity of a fallen world. I started to talk about what I once could only write about. Through the power of both spoken and written words I began to with the bravest of souls unpack the graveyard that become my home for many long years. Through tremendous healing power and sovereignty of God and the goodness of the Holy Spirit, I began to write my process of healing and restoration. For the first time in my life I had felt utter freedom and it was as if those fairy tales that beat so constant on my heart, began the song to a melody of redemption.

Not long ago I found myself on my way to a writers retreat where I am working on my first book. I almost felt as if I was in the wrong body. I was feeling fearful of my ability of doing that which God has called up in me to do. I felt on a heart level that I do not have what it will take to live this life. It all is go God size. I opened up my bible and read in Isaiah 52:2 ~ Shake off your dust; sit enthroned, O Jerusalem. Free yourself from the chains on your neck, O captive daughter of Zion.~ God spoke to my heart. You are free and with my you can do anything that is called according to my purpose for you! There is no greater joy then that , that come from our God. I had a picture of believers sitting in chains around there necks convinced that this is as good as it gets. That the feeling of freedom in the heart is all that God met by life to the full. When not only did God intend for us to feel but, to live, stand free, because his Son has set us free. 

All my life God was calling me to a bigger story then that which I understand. My story although feels larger then life at times in the kingdom's story it is one in a million that has been called according to His purpose. God is taking this story rewriting it to sing the song of a Saviour so in love with me that He moved heaven and earth to save me. Not just from sin, but from life in the remounts of its remains.

Today I am nearly finished with my first book. I am taking one baby step at a time into the life God has planned for me from the start. Thank God for freedom, thank God for mercy, thank God for calling me to live free, thank God for those who believe in me, who support me and who have and will help me along the way...Amen!

Redeeming Love

Redeeming Love

Hanging our in righteousness 

barely avoiding my flesh 

The whispers from my broken glory 

seem to near a breast 

What will it take to stand in who I am 

for Gods fullness and glory that 

He so longs to share 

Though the battle for my heart rages 

I remember it is in your righteousness 

I am Praying for the courage 

to finally get up and stand. 

There is nothing  I can do alone 

for on Him is every breath 

The melody calls me to sing 

redeeming love again.

Loving Me In Repentance

Loving Me In Repentance

Somewhere in the deep confines of my / our heart is this belief that if we want to experience the release of holy grace then we need to be holy. That we need to walk blameless before man and God. 

Although in simplistic terms of be good, and God will reward you; makes sense in light that the terms that the world lives by. Like, if you work hard you will be wealthy. But, the ladder seems to fall so short from the heart of God. 

But he said to me, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. (2 Cor 12:9)

There are countless times in which I have fallen short of the Glory of God. It seems in my good doing there is a flavor lingering that taste of selfishness, pride and most often fear, you might as well through in jealousy. I am the least deserving of His sufficient grace. At each and every time of repentance it's taste is so bitter. I have spent and believe I will continue be  on my knees in repentance. I know that this is a sure sign of his love for me, but the experience differers from what my flesh expects. 

We fall in love or lust and both feel good. Lust withers away and dies by the way sides of our heart while love brings comfort to your bones even in the desert. The same is in repentance, and being sorry. Sorry is a generally painless apology where repentance brings you to a level of humiliation with the hope that God will restore you to good standing. For me sorry comes to easily. I not long ago was telling my husband that there is a part of me that wishes I could stand before the world and ask everyone how is it that I'v hurt, or disappointed. Then offer a blanket apology. I know as efficient as this sounds  my heart would be removed and in the end I would be left unchanged and hard hearted.  This is what I could not bear. My heart unchanged. It is my hearts cry that He would carry me to the table and bleed me to see the depth of his love will not leave in me all that He has intended to complete. 

I used to think that I was so lucky to read a book or listen to some story and learn the biggest lessons in life as to avoid uncomfortable aches of humility. God in His commitment to the romancing of my heart takes me through this journey not unscathed but limping so that I can remember that all the while it was him that sustained me, that it was Him who carried me through. All the stories and books have been the journeys of those that have walk this road before me, not in the place of me. 

Lord to you this I pray I lay it all down 

pour over me your merciful hand

Find me at the cross each day 

my God this I pray 

Guard my mouth and the words that stray

silence my flesh as all I want to here

Is only what you would say

Set this Absalom free, I am pleading to be

like you lord in all that I say and do

Lord take my pride and crucify it 

till none remain

Then my God my Lord and Holy Spirit

takes its place in me

That I may be a blessing to you

a sweet smelling sacrifice worthy of my blessed King

~Amen~ 

Sometimes small is not small enough

You know that little girl dream? You cannot wait to meet your knight and shining armor, you begin planning you're wedding when you are nearly eight. You start drawing princesses and dreaming of what might possibly what will make you the the most beautiful p. There are echos of a fairy tale in almost every game that is played. 

  I began walking with God and my life change was sudden and drastic, and nothing short of glorious. It was as if God took his big God hand and scooped me up out of sickest pit and set me on top a mountain where my lover Lord began to teach me to most beautiful dance and loved me the way I never dream of. I wanted to serve God with every part of me. I would serve where ever I could. I would face every battle that I needed to fight and in my eyes it was between life and death. I can tell you that every bit of it is worth it. Yet I found my self at this place where I wanted more. I have believed that God had a bigger purpose for me than just being a church going serving girl. 

I began seeking God with all my heart. What was my purpose? What did my purpose have to do with my story? I could not wait to be called into a bigger story than my own, and then one day He did. I thought it would be nothing short of glorious. Yet it has been the hardest thing we have ever done. Things that go wrong make no sense. There seems to be drama after drama and it totally is distracting from what were called to do. I feel like I am spending more time doing damage control than walking with God. The fight for the hearts of others and your own feels at times shredding me to the marrow of my bones.

Have you ever felt like your enemy has a barrel pressed to your helmet while your back is pressed against a wall and he is screaming surrender? With ever bit of strength I can muster I am screaming back NO. Then thoughts start to creek in my mind, should I have been more patient and not wanted to be so eager to serve God with my whole life? Am I a little girl in a woman's world? Did I have a unrealistic idea of what the real world is like? "perhaps" I think I feel like a girl who has moved away from home for the first time and I have know idea how to do laundry, cook or even vacuum. I am looking for a phone for a mom to come and show me but there is no one to call. 

There is this part of me that says these feelings are just whispers from the enemy and I am pretty much confident that this is true. Still, there is a small part of me that believes that I have no place in this battle. Perhaps it is just because the sword is feeling really heavy, or maybe it is because Satan is pushing on it. I will choose to believe the latter is true. I need room to scream out to my bigger stronger God.... WAR FARE...

Just One Thing I Ask

Just One Thing I Ask

It was cold and damp as I stood outside this train station. I had not wanted to come, but this was to be a gift and perhaps one of the best gift of my life. I stood outside the would be train station make shift chapel. I was sure that I was the only smoker, and was dismally overly dressed to hide how I felt. I had nearly a months worth of supplies for a weekend.  I tried desperately to blend in, but I sorely stuck out. It was clear from head to toe, from my mouth to my heart that I had not been accustom to this kind of setting. A Woman's retreat!

My life had been dark up this point. The idea of spending a weekend with what I considered to be overly happy people who want to pray for everyone, was lets say far from my bucket list. For I had not known true joy, and to see that there were so many people experiencing happiness something I had not been privilege to my whole life was like flashing all the more what I was missing; and I hated them for it. 

I was a forgotten child in a huge way.  In the middle of 9 kids is enough sometimes in its self to cause an quake in the fabric of the heart. But, my home was one of brokenness and wickedness. The stings of life had taken its toll on my heart and I was deeply angry, and profoundly broken. My words  were brass and hard to the ears. They often landed in cold sarcasm that a hurting world could so relate with. I was mean and forceful and defied every point of authority in my life. After countless attempts of suicide and being a failure at that as well, I had a dalima with God. Yet I was to far exhausted to fight him anymore. I had to die on the inside, I was empty. 

I sat in the far back of the train station near to the door as to not disrupt anyone if I wanted to run far away. Then the words of the most transparent speaker penitrated the hardness of my heart. She spoke of her deeply broken heart, and how she tried to cover it up with anything she; herself couldn't see through. I knew in that moment this woman understood something that in which I had felt for all my life.  We were asked to think about a few questions that were regarding what she spoke about. I read over and over the paper that was no bigger then a napkin and I felt as if I dare not began to answer these questions. Looking over the question I camped on just one that I felt I could possible began to answere.  "What are some of the ways you cover up, or hide what is going on?" I ran to my bunk where I was alone and there with a mixture of lead and tears I began to feel and see different ways I began to cover up. I poured out my heart on that paper. 

Some time later woman began to trickle in. I closed up as if I had been seen unveiled. They gathered in chairs in a half circle where my bed closed it. I was on the top bunk and as far away as I could get. I was delightfully invited to participate with them. With red swollen eyes heavy with fresh fallen tears I declined. I laid there listen to each woman share her answers. As they shared anger seared up in me. I felt profoundly shameful. For if they only understood what life could have been like. Then the room when quiet and I looked over the bed and I was asked to share at least one of the answers to the question. I panicked! I only could answer one and I had no idea I was going to share this. So for the next 30 min and through broken tears I read my veils that I could see that have covered my shattered heart. My words landed like a heavy blanket on the woman below me. Nearly crushing the room. 

Then with a word the silence was broken a woman voiced her understanding of my anger, and offered to pray for me. I shut down as if I realized I was naked in a room of people who were starring at me. No I said sternly I am not angry and besides I have had lots of counseling for these kinds of things in my life. There was one more request to pray for me and I bluntly said no. 

The next day during a skit a woman was covered in rags and chained to her tool box that was very heavy. She sat at table with four other woman who also had rags some more then others but they were not chained to a tool box. I new before a word spoken that the woman with the box was me and my heart just broke with what would be the first time I had sadness for the woman I was becoming. In the skit the woman could not partake in fellowship because her box and rags was a cause of constant adjusting. With a day of requesting her to open her box I pleaded for her not to. But, it was the Lord talking to me. He gently whispered to me, all I want today is your anger. With tears falling down my face I spoke out Lord who am I with out my sin. You take that from me and I am a tomb. I promise to fill you up if your just give me your anger. I listened as he has a few times with such love and tenderness, the kind I had never known before. With out even thinking about where in the service we were I got up and broke bread for the first time ever and offered God my anger. There on my face in the train station in the foot heals of Mountaineer I was filled to over flowing.

This Hearts Cry

This Hearts Cry

It is my hearts cry 

that He would carry me to the table 

and bleed me to see 

the depth of his love will not leave in me 

all that He has intended to complete. 

Allow my soul to breath 

to shine your holy light as is should sing. 

Lay me prostate before you my glorious God 

my gracious King. 

Only raise me with your gentile hand 

in your awesome way. 

Bring my heart in beat with yours my beloved God. 

Use this sacrifice to bring you glory 

not through my name. 

Shatter my selfish pride my jealous heart. 

Be my table, my breath. 

For God you are my refuge and my hiding place. 

Cause me to take flight on the wind 

where your spirit carries me. 

~Oh My Beloved King~

Could This Be Love

Could This Be Love

It isn't that I go back to the same old closet to put on cloaks of shame, rage or the most common obvious sins. It is the coats that no longer fit. Rather I am beginning to shed the ones I had never removed. I had no idea, and now I'm completely lost with words in understanding the complexity in which I have made the process of redemption.

I have battled all my life with pride. It is amazing that this nasty beast was not the first of my broken heart that God asked me to release. The process of pride I have found comes from a much deeper wounding than a human can inflict. It is the thumb print of our enemies seal of death.  He places it on us like a birth mark and it nearly becomes part of our being.  This redeeming process has felt much more like the removal of a tattoo. A burning of flesh. 

For so so long I have believed that if I were truly submitted I would feel like doing it all the time, or if I hated my fleshy pride then to set it down would feel more like clean water lapping on my tired feet. But, every act of redemption has been a conscience choice. None of which has felt most refreshing in the moment. In-fact; quite often it has left me bare naked and exposed. Left to the elements of public exposer, of a more humble me. Somewhere along the way of the journey of my heart I have stumbled along the lie that I am more beautiful if I have got things all together, and I believed it. But, the journey that God has had me on for a what seems a lot longer than it really is; is one of on my face in complete humility.

The more I walk with God, He ever so gently makes known hidden cloths under my new garments. He invites me to remove them. The process seems to be shorter in what it takes for me to hate them so much that I allow the almighty God to cut away the old remnants of a fallen Eve, a fallen glory. The most enchanting and hope laden truths is that God of all creation loves me so much that He is willing to walk with me while I have coats of pride, while all the while telling me who I am with out them. The way that His very God being dances with the longing of what has been His holy design. Community with the very beauty of Him. The utter commitment of His complete knowing that we have fallen from such a high place. The place that is seated next to Him in His heavenly realms . How he hates sin so much that He is willing to love me as if it were not the issue. Where He loves me for who He created me to be, and not for why or where I have fallen. An absolute refusal to believe that I am anything other than He created in the face of his despicable enemy. 

Oh my God make this an offering to you that I would give anything to be all that you desire of me to be. What a beautiful Saviour beautiful father and a magnificent friend. You have cradled my ever shattered heart with the patients that seemed to have no bound that cannot be extinguish even when death calls. Oh God my delight my joy. You have  brought me out of shackles and chains. Would you make my feet light so that I may run to you, and only you for the rest of my life.  Give my fingers flight in the removal of all veils that keep your glory from shining through. Let my life be a refection of you, your endowed splendor, your gracious love. 

"You have captured my heart, dear friend.

 You looked at me and I fell in love. 

One look my way and I was hopelessly in love!"

~Song of Solomon~

(The Message)

And We Dance

And We Dance

The air smelt of dirt and pine needles as me feet slapped the ground of our gravel drive way. I was on my way to an enchanting secret garden. I knew  that my new family was looking for a little girl like me. It was there, in the most secret places that I would dance under the giant arms of the evergreens while the rhododendron  blossoms garland my head. I just knew that my daddy was watching me be-hind the next big tree. 

Where do the daddies go for the girls who dream of daddies that really love them? My biggest desire was to be rescued by a new family a new daddy, and I was curtain he'd find me under the canopy and amongst the flowers. It was here that He'd want me too! Little did I know that my father was watching me all along. 

I was not that different from most little girls that have beliefs or understandings that our daddies are supposed to make our dreams come true. The dreams of beauty, and the dream of being the darling of his life. My daddy like most daddies was given a blessing, me; but, failed to see all that my little girl heart needed or could be. It withered away till one day I looked into the mirror at the age of 5 and did not like what I seen. It was clear far to young that I could not get anyone to see me. I was nearly always seen as to much. I was never seen as enough. So through out life I went from person to person looking to be seen. There my heart broke year after year, man after man, daddy after daddy, desperately trying to find someone who would want to dance with me. 

I let go of the beaconing of enchanting truths that caused me to run to the secret places. Where I would run through our garden cutting a crossed the neighbors back yard to the path that lead to my hiding place. My fingers lazily lingered on the towering reeds that shielded me from every view. My heart would be leaping with joy at every thought that I was going to the thrown room  where I would be crowned with jewels so I could meet my daddy king. My thrown room was a make shift willow tree that skirts danced with the wind on the reeds. It was under the canopy of my thrown room that we were going to dance with the crickets and water dragons. But, like a pounding rain disrupts a pool of still waters. My fair tale ended and the dream of dancing disappeared with the wind leaving the reeds, as I bore the screaming reality what the enemy so forcefully penetrated and shredded my heart for was accomplished. It was along time after that where my heart would dance again for Him. I would be eighteen and a new mommy. It was there in my dream that he etched in me the beautiful dance, an enchanting melody. It was in this dream that he saw me in my filth in my brokenness and shame then with tender daddy hand he held my face wiped my tears and we danced on the mountain top under the canopy of the willow tree where I was dressed with beauty, with flowers in my hair. It was the Lord who had been calling me to dance all these years.

It is only now where I get to dance with my father where he has given me my identity and where His shoulders have been big enough to carry my broken heart and who hands have been constant in drying my tears. It is just in the last few years where God my daddy has been teaching me the steps to the melody he started 32 years ago. 

Kings

Kings

The wildness of God beckons to the places in me that cause me at times to grip the sides of life with white knuckles. For to the depth of his calm and tenderness there is a side to Him that is just as much wild, dangerous and cunning. 

My husband and I have been parented by the church. You could say that God has given us such a wonderful gift in life as to have put us into a couple glorious churches where the light and life of God is being tapped into, where  the way to pure water has been found. Where God abounds and religion begins to fade away. 

We were called away from our homeland to come and love a people that was hard for us to love. Of course when God calls us into something we nearly always picture something far less circumcising, and much smaller scope then that of God. In this case the vastness of God has me humbled and on my face in this great love he has for us, for me. 

Our paster at the church where we were first being raised in has been so generous with his time with me. Last week I poured out my heart to him on the phone for we are 1500 miles apart. The battle wounds are for curtain, deep and painful. It was like talking to a father, and as close to a conversation as an earthly father can get.  I realized in the midst of our conversation the sovereignty of Gods hand in all of this. 

It seems when God delivered me from the grip of this world, He placed me in the midst of the most tenderhearted family to heal, to be loved and looked at from my destiny not my history. Our Pastor is a good king. What we had know thus far was the leadership of a good king. A king that we could not help but love. For this king is a gift from God and because of his heart it made me want to server him all the more. So when God called us to move over 1500 miles away to serve and love another king it broke me heart. 

Our new king was a different king. His heart is broken. We were not received in the arms of a father king, the arms that we had known so well. So out of the only way we knew how to, we loved him, we began our of obedience to the Lord who called us to serve him they way we served and loved our good king. When months had passed and God began closing the doors there. My heart was so confused. Why would God call us away from our good king in the first place. It seemed like a bogus mission. 

God had began the steps long before we came to make ready our new home. God was preparing our hearts for a good king again and preparing a good king for us! There is no greater love then that of God. I was spending time with God talking to him about where I had possibly handled our mission in pride when, it was as if God allowed some fog to lift so that I could see. 

It was a dark time serving our hurting king, but it was God who guided us. His hand of sovereignty has been over under and through every move and circumstance. In the much smaller scale could I have excepted our new king with such warmth and desire for his leadership if we had not been called to serve a hurting king first? I don't think so. It was the desert that caused us to realize our deep thirst. It is the desert where we have been carried through the battle and even though we have been hit, what my heavenly father took for us was so much more.  painful. 

The kings that God has chosen for me in my life serve a deeper purpose then my understand goes. The understand of the way God loves me and his deep affection for me is what provides wisdom in how to believe and see, and his clarity provided in his perfect time tells me where to move and how to be. It is as if my King of Kings and Lord of Lords is teaching me to move and dance to the rhythm and heart beat of heaven.