Month: June 2013

A flower unfolding: first it’s new and fresh, small and tightly folded.  The fragrance strong yet tiny.  The petals slowly relax and become comfortable – opening more and more – and with it, the fragrance surfaces in its full intensity, completely ostracizing all other odors.  The flower fully opened speaks through that fragrance.  Time passes and it slowly begins to wither and die – just around the edges at first.  It becomes so comfortable it begins to release it petals until it looses all of them.  What remains is the seed that will bring new life.

So goes my relationship with Christ: Tight, new, fresh in the beginning.  Then so comfortable I begin to lay down my life, my self for Him.  The more comfortable I become in Him, the easier it is to put aside my inward focus, my misplaced priorities, my me-ness.  The fragrance of my life begins to speak and act more like Him than me. One day I will die leaving the seed I have sown to carry on as I join our Savior in Heaven.

When it seems the world conspires against me and no one cares, I find myself feeling overwhelmed and beaten down.  It is times like these that I have to consciously take my eyes off of myself, off of those around me, and off of my circumstances, and look to Him who is my Encourager and my Protector.

Read Psalms 3:1-8 and ponder these points:

• Do I trust in Jesus (flee to Him for protection and hope), or do I trust in myself and others?
• Fear can be vain imaginings that rise up against the knowledge of God.  Where does my imagination run in times of trouble?
• If He is my protector, my defender, my shield – then why do I fear myself, other people or my circumstances?

Lord, You are my shield, my protector and my defender.  I will not be afraid.  I will lie down without anxiety or fear and rest for You keep me.  I will revere You alone for I am Yours and You hear my cry – in that are my many blessings. I will trust and flee to you when it seems the whole world is out for my destruction.  You are my Peace, my Hope and my Salvation. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

When I die, what will people say at my eulogy? Will they say I was pretty, or that I loved others unconditionally.  Will they say I was fun to be with, or that I gave of myself unselfishly?  Will you hear that I knew how to get a bargain and was a good housekeeper or a good employee? Or will it be said that my left hand never knew what the right was giving, that I breathed encouragement and grace on others, that I was merciful to those even when they didn’t deserve it?  If I wrote my eulogy today, would it look like I want to be remembered, or would the reality of how I am living my life be in conflict or contradictory to how I would want my mark to be remembered when I am gone?

It is not too late to start anew – to write my eulogy and live it now and tomorrow for I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.  I can write tomorrow differently.

We mark time by events – births, graduations, weddings, death.  We see it as a “time line”.  Somewhere in that time line, there is the point marked by our decision to accept Christ as our Lord and Savior.  Our baptism is also on that line.  We are linear thinkers in terms of time.  As we walk or march or dance through time, we will inevitably make mistakes, bad choices or bad decisions.  We will act without thinking and react with emotions in the “heat of the moment.”

When I make a mistake, a bad choice, or do or fail to do something, I  see myself as having to hit pause.  In other words, I am going along “good” in my walk as a Christian when I suddenly find myself involved in an emotional outburst, a thoughtless act, an intentional act, a less than optimum choice.  But there I am, even when I realize I should not have gone there to begin with.  I find myself feeling like I now have to stop my walk  – re-earning my good behavior time all over to be worthy of accomplishing something in the Kingdom.  I allow my linear thought process to take over and mentally crumple up the list of “good” I have accomplished, the progress I have made in my relationship with Christ, and just stand still.  I no longer see myself as worthy of moving beyond where I was when the “sin” occurred.

God exists in a dimension where time as I know it does not exist.  What Jesus did on the cross, He did after He knew me – God says He knew me before the foundations of the earth were laid – were fastened.  His death was for the things that I did before I knew I did them.

David was loved by the Lord not because he was perfect, but because he acknowledged his shortcomings and walked right from where he was when he acted shortsightedly.  When I hit pause on God’s purposes for my life, the Kingdom of heaven on earth suffers.  I rob myself when I buy into the linear time thought process.

If I extend this out, it really results in my believing more in what sin can do than in what God can do.  I know the devastation sin can bring, yet I seem to forget to trust in what God did to conquer my sin.  Selfishly, I put my faith in the devastation of sin instead of the restoration He accomplished.

I try now to think of time as a place where God is – always. He knew the things I would do after I was saved, and my name is still written on His hand.

Lord, help me to remember I don’t need to use the pause button, that I can repent and move forward right from where I am.

Most of us forget to counsel with the Lord throughout our day on all the decisions we face.  We think nothing of asking a family member, friend or co-worker for input.  Yet, God cares where we get our advice – He is interested in everything we do.

Read Psalms 2:1-12 and ponder these points.

• Do I let the world and those in it change me, or do I receive instruction from the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit?
• Who am I bound to?
• Who do I revere? Why?
• Do I see the joy in serving Jesus, or do I “spin around” with trembling and shuddering?
• Do I let God discipline me, instruct me, and love me, counting it all as joy – not oppression?
• In what areas do I need to seek God’s counsel?

Oh Lord, let not my imagination set myself against You.  Let me not counsel with those of the world and overlook Your counsel.  Let my bonds and cords be tied only to You, Your instruction and Your plans.  Let me be wise in Your eyes, Lord. Teach me in Your ways. May I serve You with the utmost reverence and with joy.  I receive Your instruction.  I flee to Jesus for protection. I confide in Him and hope in Him. I will be joyful because of Him.  In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Sometimes it is easy to discern others as the wicked, the sinners, and the scornful.  But it seems more difficult to see those things that grieve God in ourselves. We point to others to hide the imperfections in ourselves.

Read Psalms 1:1-6 and reflect on these points:

• Where do I walk, sit, and stand, and in whose company?
• Do I talk to myself about God’s precepts?
• Am I firmly planted in God bearing fruit and leaves?   (I must have leaves for growing fruit.)
• Do I push forward in God or in my own power?
• Am I driven by the wind or do I stand on truth?

Lord, help me to lay aside gossip and any speaking that does not edify, encourage, exhort or build up.  Father, I delight in Your precepts and I ponder them by talking to myself day and night.  I know that Your precepts, Your law, are a reflection of Your love for me.  I shall be and am a tree firmly planted by Your channel of living water bringing forth fruit, whose leaf shall not faint.  And in You Lord, whatever I do shall prosper, shall push forward, break out, come out. In Jesus’ name, Amen!

Grounded in the Truth, with You as my Anchor –  standing on the firm Foundation, my hand outstretched towards her.  Slowly her hand slips through mine – I can still see her – still hear her – but we only connect when the waves push her back towards me –  sometimes for long periods of time, other times are shorter –  sometimes just our finger tips touch, other times our whole hands, and still at other times our hearts touch. Yet slowly the waves of time and the tumult of the sea push her farther away from me.  She still looks back at me and touches me, not with her hands, but with her eyes. Words are few yet precious as my ears receive them with joy.  I realize that I haven’t heard the words in a very long time.  I understand that our connection is waning as time continues to pass.  And with that passage of time, I realize that I can barely make her out on the horizon.  Yet I remain fixed and grounded to the Truth, knowing that the inevitable will happen to her, to me, to us – just when the waves are ready to overtake her, I realize that soon she will be gone from my sight.  And go she does – gently with the action of the sea, she disappears completely from my sight.  Yet I am still grounded in the Truth.  The Foundation I am on is steady and sure.  I will see her again, that is the promise that He has given those who know Him.  I am anchored to Him.  I will see her again.

I lost a piece of my mom every time Alzheimer’s made a noticeable change in her mental and physical condition.

The first time she forgot my birthday, where I became special to no one, I grieved.

The first time (and thankfully, the only time), she got violently mad at me for an imagined wrong I had committed, where who she had become was not the woman I knew, I grieved.

The first time she couldn’t remember who I was, where I became no woman’s daughter, I grieved.

The first time she asked me if I was her mama, where our roles permanently reversed, I grieved.

The first time I assisted her in the bathroom, where I made the emotional crossing from role of daughter to caretaker, I grieved.

I grieved for what seemed like an eternity before my mom died in 2008, as her weary body fully succumbed to the ravages of Alzheimer’s.  It took me some time to realize that I had become accustomed to grieving, that it had become my constant companion.  I didn’t know how not to grieve anymore.  Then the Holy Spirit gave me a vision.

I grieved for what seemed like an eternity before my mom died in 2008, as her weary body fully succumbed to the ravages of Alzheimer’s.  It took me some time to realize that I had become accustomed to grieving, that it had become my constant companion.  I didn’t know how not to grieve anymore.  Then the Holy Spirit gave me a vision.

She stands at the gate, looking forward to the beginning of her journey.  She feels the warmth on her face and knows that she is about to go further than she has ever been.  She turns her head back towards where she has been. She sees the wheelchair, the bed and the aged woman looking straight ahead.  Her eyes reflect nothing, her lips neither smile nor frown.  There is pain in every wrinkle of her face.  Her legs no longer carry her and her arms barely move as though swaddled with unseen weight.  Her gaze is steady, but unseeing.  Her ears hear, but she doesn’t comprehend. There are those around her – some crying, some solemn, but all sadden by her departure.  She thinks she should feel sad, but the only thing she feels is excitement as she anticipates what lies ahead.  She looks down at her hands, young and vibrant; ready to do whatever she is called to do.  She turns away, realizing that some of these she will see again, and for some, this is the last time – this is the only thing that saddens her.  She turns towards the gate again – a simple garden gate.  Strange, she thought that it would be grander…that is what she always heard.  Beyond the gate, in the far distance, she sees light, so true and bright, for a moment she wonders why her eyes don’t hurt.  Closer in, she sees people lined along the path.  As she walks the path, gazing from face to face, she realizes that she knows these people.  They are her brothers and a sister she hasn’t seen in a lifetime.  Standing closer are friends and other relatives.  All of them gathered along side the path she travels.  The crowd looks away from her and towards where she is headed.  Their eyes return to her.  She wonders who it is that is coming.  Then she sees him…the man she fell in love with 67 years ago.  She remembers his eyes shining with mischief, his eyebrow up as only one so suave could look….and that smile, she will never forget that smile.  It wasn’t a beautiful smile as the world judges, but it is a smile that touches her heart and in that lays the beauty.  Funny though, she wonders how he got here…of all the people there, she really didn’t anticipate seeing him.  Their gaze meets and she drops the thought of why and realizes that he is there and she is glad.  She feels the love and acceptance that her 85 years never allowed her to feel.  She is more than comfortable here.  She is elated.  And as nary a word is said, she continues moving down the path, her and all of these souls towards the center of the light in the distance.  She knows in her heart….does she still have one…that she will be seeing Him soon.  She has forgotten now what is behind her and looks forward with great anticipation of what lays ahead…down this road.  There is joy in her heart and praise in her mouth.  She cannot contain all that she feels, but knows that this is just the beginning of forever.

The thought of rejoicing at the death of a love one was reprehensible, but isn’t that what being here and being Christian is all about? God reminded me that I had lost my ailing earthly mother, but she had gained Him, as will I one day.  “To live is Christ, to die is gain.” So, I made a decision to consciously lay down grief and pick up joy every time I found my old companion hanging around.  I would like to say it was instantaneous, but it is a process.  Over and over again, sometimes moment by moment, I laid down grief, until grief ceased to be my constant companion. I still feel it once in a while as it tries to take dominion over my thoughts.  I find that the best way to counter that sadness is to do something nice for someone else.  It takes my mind off of my situation and causes me to focus on someone else who needs assistance.

Grief can take up residence over the smallest thing – the loss of an earthly possession, a job – to what seems insurmountable – the loss of a friend, a spouse, a child, a parent.  Are you grieving a loss in your life? Will you make a conscious decision to lay down grief and fight the good fight until grief is no longer your constant friend? I challenge you to find someone who needs a bit of help – a ride to the doctor, a meal, a visit to reminisce of times long past, eyes and voice to read  – and leave your grief to take up the joy of helping someone else in need.

 

Deliberately and with great care he ambles toward her.  He takes a seat next to her as he gently grasps her soft hand in his.  I never noticed before how transparent his skin had become – how it hugs every tendon, bone and vessel.  His thoughts come more slowly these days so not a word passes between them.  He just sits there, content to hold her hand.  I can feel his life, his love flowing through his hand to hers.  I see the decades of regrets, and eons of lost time, never more to come again for him.  Oh, what he knows in the twilight of his life!  If only he had the strength to tell me those secrets revealed at his end. 

She calls his name and gently he answers her, reassures her – his hand still holding hers.  He is too tired to try to meet her eyes – he just holds her hand in his.  If only he knew before…what was really important, what mattered most at the end, not what mattered in the time long lost.  He rises, grasping the hook of his cane, and with great effort, he pulls himself to his feet.  He gingerly makes his way in front of her. Bending down and forward, he takes her face in those frail hands and gazes into her eyes.  He lovingly moves his lips to her forehead, as his eyes slowly close.  It’s as if I can see his thoughts as they rush through his mind – What would have been had he have known long ago what these last moments have told him?  He tells her, “I love you.”  He knows he can never say it enough to cover all the time gone by, where something else was always more important, where demands and cares of this life pushed their way to the front, where she was just a fixture, always there.  He knows now.  His pain, his regrets, his sorrow is great for those things he knows now should have been back then.  Still holding her face with his hands, his lips pressed against her forehead, he holds back his tears as he wonders if she knows what he knows now.

God spoke to me through this window of watching my father, stricken with cancer, interact with my mother, a victim of Alzheimer’s, about what really is important in life – our relationships, not just with our family and each other, but with Him.  Too often, we push Him aside for those things that draw our attention…those things that speak louder, those things that seem critically urgent, those desires of our heart that don’t quite line up with His desires.  Yet, He waits for us, because He knows that one day we will know what my dad now knows.  He yearns for us to know this before it is too late, to restructure our lives to live life to the fullest, not in what we do, but in how we do it.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, and self-control.” Galatians 5:22    When everything has gone by for you, time, health, loved ones…and you are standing at the eve of your demise, will you have pain, regrets, and sorrow for those things that should have been?  If your husband/wife sits by your side just before you stand before the Lord, will you mourn those things that can no longer be because time is gone for you?

Close your eyes and imagine yourself at the end of your life.  You are old, but you are certainly not ready for this life to be over.  Your children are grown and have families of their own.  Your contemporaries are slowly succumbing to the inevitable end. Who are you?  What were you?  What was important before?  What is important now?  Do you need to make some changes?

He waits for you to know now – before it is too late to reflect His glory in every relationship you have, including the one you have with Him.  Take His hand in yours and know what could be, because for you it is not too late, yet.

Fear keeps us in bondage – in prison – in a cocoon

It isolates us – it divides us – it stops all growth

It causes death and destruction

It robs us of time, of friends, of family

It robs us of our destiny – our ability – our potential

It is the fiery dart of the enemy that is cloaked

Invisible – it gathers no attention

It just is – as it utterly steals, kills & destroys

Fear keeps love at bay

Ruins hope for the hopeless – deprives God of His praises

Fear keeps “trying” from every being an action

It doesn’t lurk in shadows – but stands in the forefront of the mind held captive

It won’t let restoration or redemption take root

and give way to forgiveness, love, mercy and faith.

Fear keeps new fresh growth from squeezing out of the branch

so that fruit will develop

Fear keeps revelation from ever being received

Yet God did not give us this spirit of fear, but of love, of power and of a sound mind.

Peter got out of the boat and walked on water. But once he took his eyes off of Jesus and considered his circumstances, he became afraid and he started to sink.   What circumstance in your life causes fear to rise in you? What is causing you to sink?

Be anxious for nothing but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6,7

Boldly say “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?” Hebrews 13:6

For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father.”

I move through the landscape of my life propelled by time.  It passes, but will not leave me behind.  It carries me into another sunrise – another day – another sunset – another night.

I move through my life like a tear down a face.  I just travel with not a destination in mind, allowing my path to be dictated by the topography that surrounds me.  A tear leaves no mark tomorrow on the face that was its journey today.  I’m like that sometimes. My trail disappears with the closing of my eyes in the night hours.

I act and react like a wrecking ball – madly swinging in all directions obliterating everything I touch with permanent deep fissures.  I wonder who could forgive my destruction and turn it into good.  The tracks of the wounds I inflict stay when time takes me into tomorrow.

I am firmly established in a good place like a majestic oak.  I provide shelter, protection, life, and provision to those around me.  I am not moved by any event, whether it be a flood, a feast, a famine, a storm.  I am intricately woven where I am, roots running deep – intertwined with the panorama of my life. My life is seed carried by the wind – going where it directs me and scattering myself in places that will eventually grow and bear its own seed.  Many mornings from now that seed remains – replicating itself over and over – leaving good marks – good fruit – along the vista of my life. What I do when my foundation is sure does not end with the retreat of the sun and the entrance of the night. But time withdraws and brings me with it into another future.

I am a well ministering and refreshing right where I am.

I’m going to tomorrow and yesterday for me is a closed door.