Leslie A Lamb/Sifted Wheat

Category: love

  • I wear a Scarlet letter “A”

    It was affixed to me a few years ago. I didn’t willfully walk into the title, it had searched for me for a long time. Exposing itself to me in childhood, beckoning to me in adolescence, and dangling just above my heart in my young adult years before solidly sewing its flimsy fabric over my heart.

    Ironically, I didn’t set out to be an adulteress, in fact, this side of it all, I never was. I was a loving, passionate soul desperate to see a life find hope and help in what I was led to believe was a bleak world. I saw a hurting brother, and well, I don’t care to imagine what he saw. Mostly he saw a vulnerable woman that out of fear of failure refused to say no.

    I did some stupid things. I’m not gonna lie. I cringe when I remember some of those things, but I could never paint as devastating a picture as he painted of me, broad red stitches on an already weathered and tattered soul. I felt like a pawn. Used and manipulated and set aside to try and figure out what had happened and where it had begun. And here is the thing about sin being turned from, it always comes back for one last play.

    Luckily, Daddy God had gotten ahold of me. He had led me to confess and seek counsel and to expose the darkness… And just in time, because I didn’t realize how dangerous the game had gotten, and how vulnerable I had become. God only knows what I was spared that fateful night, but I know it is far worse than I ever suspected.

    But, this blog isn’t about that night, or that sin exactly… This blog is about the freedom that broke through as I began to be honest about my journey. Even now some people will read this and say “There she goes again, whining about her story.” But those people don’t know me… And they don’t understand my purpose in this life much less this blog. Probably because they too wear the Scarlet Letter “A”.

    “Afraid.”

    They are scared to share their pitfalls and their failures because to do so will somehow compromise their righteousness. But this is what I found in my pit of self abasement, I was not alone. In fact, so many of us were held up in that tiny, airless, dark space we barely saw the others standing beside us. Our guilt and our shame was so thick, our letters sewed on so tightly we couldn’t make out anything. Some still linger there. Holding onto that last thread, allowing the enemy to label them and devour them with his lies, refusing God the ability to overcome them with love.

    “Perfect love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love.”
    (1 John 4:18 NLT)

    So I’ve risen from the pit, not perfect, but loved. And because I have been there and witnessed the lies – the pastors caught in adultery, the Bible teachers in homosexual relationships, the deacons dealing with addictions, and the heartache of a Christian mom of four still mourning her teen abortion, I can say with certainty, there is hope! We have wrestled the letter off of us and thrown it into the arms of our Daddy God and said “You saved me from even this!” You see, we know what others won’t dare to acknowledge, we are not perfect. We no longer look down from a pedestal of righteousness and offer grace, we jump in the pit, not afraid of the muck and the mire, no longer covered in shame, and we reach past their offenses into the hearts that just need mercy and grace and above all transcendent love. And they find it, not in our disdain but in genuine understanding, in words that say, “My sin may not look like yours but it is no less staining.”

    So, I wear a Scarlet Letter “A” only because it is my ticket to help those who need it most… A ticket I paid dearly for, but one that Jesus paid in full. And, the crimson that covers its frame, removes my shame.

  • Touchable God

    I remember the first time I heard about the intimacy of Christ. I was sitting in a pew in a tiny Southern Baptist Church at a revival no less. The preacher was talking and I was doodling until God pricked my ears. It was like I knew I needed to pay attention. I had missed the first part of the story, something about a man and he was “simple” and he had been invited to stay at the pastor’s home…but it was this part that changed my life forever:

    “It wasn’t long after we had headed off to bed, and my wife and I heard commotion coming from the guest room. Our guest was obviously talking to himself, and periodically we would hear the furniture move. My wife was nervous and asked me to check things out. As I got closer to the door, it sounded like the man was in an argument with himself. Literally fighting. Icould hear him on the floor moving around, and the more I lessoned the more I wondered at this man I had invited into our home. Hearing a chair fall and what I wasn’t sure was either laughter or groaning, I resolved that he must surely be mad. With gusto I opened the door prepared for whatever I might see, but this…this large, tall, full grown older man, curled up in a ball, laughing uncontrollably. I just stared for a minute until he said, “I’m sorry, did we bother you?” I looked around – “we” was there someone else there? He picked himself up and righted the chair and said, “Jesus and I were wrestling, and he pinned me.”

    Honestly, I have no clue what else the pastor said, how he addressed that situation, or how it ended. I watched other people’s faces. Their awe and disbelief, and the few that muttered, “Bless his simple heart.” And everyone laughed. But I wasn’t buying it. I loved that story. In fact, it thrilled me! To know that I had a Savior that would not only take my sin upon Himself so that I might live but would also wrestle a grown man to laughter?! This was beautiful. I wrapped my thirteen year old heart around that nugget and treasured it as Truth – God was not only loving, but He was touchable.

    I need a touchable God. If we are honest, we all do. But it’s strange, isn’t it? People who feel Him and wrestle with Him and dance with Him are strange. Ahhh. The blessing of the simple. It is in simplicity that God meets us. I love His word that says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” We see because we believe. We believe because we know, and we know because we Trust.

    He is touchable.

    Where do you need Him to touch you? Now is not the time to be shy or ashamed. Now is the time to look for Daddy God in the place you need Him most. Where is that place? Let go of all preconceived notions and every “appropriate interaction.” Cast aside all fear of what others think and get real with God. Only you know what that looks like. It could be a wrestle, it could be a kiss, it could be a duet, it could be a dance, it could be ANY activity that frees your heart before Daddy God and feels His love and His willingness. Bear witness to that Truth, hide it in your heart and feel it for yourself – God not only loves us, but He is very touchable.

    We just have to let go and reach out.

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  • Selfless Challenge – Week One

    Any time you take up a challenge to reflect more of the heart and love of God, the enemy rushes in with arrow pointed, ready to aim. The very day I issued that challenge to myself, was possibly one of the hardest days I have had in a long time. I was physically ill and emotionally drained and no matter what help I needed from those around me, I wasn’t getting it. Their actions seemed to say. “You don’t matter.”

    I refused to have a pity party because after all that would be selfish…and I was doing my best to keep from that. But, I talked to God a lot, asking how I might turn my feelings around into something selfless for someone else. Only, my motivation seemed more out of spite than love, and thus, the wicked cycle of selfishness hit my heavy heart again. I cried out to Him, “This is hard!”

    And, I realized. It isn’t for Him. He is in His very nature selfless love. For Him to give it all for us is His joy not His challenge. The challenge resided in my flesh not my spirit. I had to control my flesh. Not an easy thing to do. In fact, it’s a very hard thing to do. But, He was there…selflessly loving me through each step of painful reflection.

    We are selfish.

    It’s killing us.

    Our families.

    Our marriages.

    The root of every divide lies in the “me first” mentality. And we might see this, maybe silently admit this to ourselves…but we don’t change it. Honestly? – Because we don’t want to. We say “I love you..” but what remains unspoken is “..when you do this… while you act like that…because I need something… that’s what I’m supposed to say… if I’m happy.”

    I have always hated the saying “You wanna have your cake and eat it, too!” Well heck yeah…how are we gonna enjoy it if we don’t eat it!? But when we love selfishly it’s a pathetic picture…(You English buffs will relate) It’s Miss Haversham in her molded wedding dress sitting at a lavishly spoiled wedding table. The feast is there…but in our desire to please our selves and what we want, we guard it and mourn it at times, but never eat it. Love lived selflessly doesn’t sit at that table, but stands behind it offering slice after slice and taking a bite here and there, smearing your cheeks with icing and offering extra servings. And guess what…? Love like that doesn’t run out, and it doesn’t feel like a chore and it doesn’t drain you. In fact, it fills you as you fill others.

    I guess the challenge in selflessness this week has become, “True love can’t be selfish.” By definition it is not. So how do we show true love? What does that look like? I’ve gotten some glimpses. How about you?

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  • Buried Treasure

    From my journal:

    “I’m emotional. It’s only our first full day at the home and I’ve cried almost all day. I cried through my testimony with my team and every time I behold the girls in their beauty and innocence. I’m so grateful for Prince of Peace – for those who saw the need and fulfilled the vision.”

    That first day we worked. We painted two rooms start to finish, and my friend Donna and I were assigned edge work, cutting in around corners, and carefully framing the ceiling. I don’t have to tell you that is HARD work, but I couldn’t have been happier. The girls would peak in and out and smile at us…that was a reward worth more than any check! To know that you are helping, to feel that as little as the task you are doing seems, it is one more thing to make their surroundings inviting and feel more like a home, even at the school! There is no menial task, no small service in the kingdom of God. Every contribution counts. But it’s more than a pat on the back that you did a good thing, it’s more than feeling good about yourself because you did good for others, it’s the understanding that all that you are doing isn’t in your name or the name of America or the name of your mission, it is all for the glory of God. With every brushstroke I felt His hand replace mine.

    We were rewarded for our labor with an invitation to eat with the girls, in their homes. You’d have thought that we were invited to attend a banquet with the King, only it was a feast with His princesses. There were two houses to choose from, the two houses that house the younger girls. (The older girls are in independent living houses down the hill – This is where Lucy lived and about 20 other precious teens.) We chose the house that Ann and Yolanda were going to (two interns with the Go 2 Nations Mission – amazing girls that you will hear more about), selfishly because I knew that they would translate and I could watch them interact.

    Of course, the minute we sat down to dinner, I cried. It was so much. The girls were chattering and talking and giggling and teasing, it felt like a family meal. It was. The Tia (or aunt and supervisor over the house) sat next to me. She smiled and watched their interactions, careful to rein them in if needed. But, it was loving, inviting and beautiful there. I smiled at her a lot and said “Gracias” and looked around us. I’m sure she knew that I wasn’t just grateful for the meal. She was a treasure. I wanted her to know that she was appreciated. Ann had told us that it is hard for them to keep good Tias. It requires them to leave their families and raise a house full of girls. It must be seen as a ministry or the ladies won’t be able to handle it and leave. This one woman had left for a while but felt so strongly that this was her calling that she came back. She saw them as her family.

    One thing became more and more certain as we watched, joined, and understood their surroundings, they were loved and cared and provided for, perhaps the best that they had ever experienced in their lives, and they knew it. One little girl took me by the hand and with a grand gesture said, “Welcome our home!” And welcomed we were. Sarai entertained us by singing Justin Beiber and doing a break dance for the video that one of our team members, Christine, was making. We were trying not to laugh. She was intensely serious about her performance. 😉

    I listened as Yolanda read “Aladdin” to the girls and then Donna and I sang “A whole new world” to them, mostly just to feel included. They were so polite listening as we sang, and they told Yolanda “They have pretty voices.” I felt like I had performed for the President and received a standing ovation! Their smiles were like roses thrown onto the stage. Bringing them delight was a blessing. We didn’t want the evening to end. We could have stayed and laughed and played with them all night, but they had school the next day and whether we liked it or not, our bodies were growing tired from the day’s work.

    At some point during the visit, we were gifted. Christine was given a yellow rose – ironic since she is from Texas and one of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Then Velveth, a very quiet and sweet spirit came and placed something in my hand. It was a coin purse, a simple pink coin purse made of plastic, with a pirate face on the front. But, it was the words that caught the emotions in my throat and pushed them into my heart, “Buried Treasure.”

    I was pierced. I felt God was sending me a message, “My love, these girls are MY buried treasures. Cast aside by everyone that SHOULD have cherished them, misused and abused by those that should have been the FIRST to show them love, discarded as a piece of plastic in a trash heap, but I have rescued them. I have brought them here to protect them and to treasure them for they are worth more than gold!”

    The stars above winked at me in the night sky, and I felt the Father smile. The Lover of my soul, my First Love, had given me a most beautiful gift. Me, the girl that had chosen to stay away and let the girls be- not wanting to cause them any undue pain, He had arranged a date for us, and, Valentine’s Day was still a day away!

  • Is this thing on?

    I could totally be the “bullhorn guy.” Sometimes I am so filled with love and amazement and passion, not just for my Creator but for His creation, that I want to grab a megaphone, pull up a box (or a stand in a truck bed), and yell at the top of my lungs, “He loves you! He loves you! He loves you!” I’m tempted. Often.

    The minute I stepped onto Guatemalan soil that is exactly what I felt. Love. Palpable. And the invitation that Father God placed in my heart echoed with each face I saw. I asked, “Is this Your child? Are these Your children?” And His answer resounded, “All of this is Mine!” Psalm 24:1 spoke into my spirit: “The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.” Everyone, everywhere, without exception.

    The streets were at once strange and familiar. Growing up overseas, the scene that met us outside the airport wasn’t too different from the bus stations in Korea which I had frequented. There were vendors and beggars and the man without legs scooting himself along on a cart. (This man is in every third world country!) I loved him at once, and the woman with the baby strapped on her chest, the woman trying to get me to buy her handmade necklaces, as well as the indigenous people in their colorful garb and the westernized people in skinny jeans carrying cellphones. I loved them, and I wanted to smile at them and hoped in some supernatural way that God’s love would transfer in that smile to heal their hurt, and calm their fears, and meet their deepest needs!

    I don’t know what my face was doing, but my heart was smiling so big I thought it might crack. The fatigue from all day travel and the dull throb in my ever-aching back disappeared with the expectation of what God was going to do! I was believing Him for some big things, and I was hopeful that I would be used to do His work in a mighty life-changing way. My expectations…of what I wanted Him to do…so selfish in retrospect.

    As we made the drive to the Prince of Peace girls’ home, I watched the world around me- the busy streets, people walking, traffic crawling, at eleven o’clock at night. The team asked questions about our surroundings some fearful of the violence and the crime, but all the while I had a feeling that this was familiar to me, almost welcomed. I had no idea where we were going or what awaited us at the Girls’ Home…I just knew that God was calling me to an adventure, a journey, and I was selfishly thinking it might be about me. I wanted to see His works displayed! I wanted the blind to see, the lame to walk, and the dead to rise! I wanted to see His love pour forth and ignite us all and for lives to be forever changed! Again I prayed, “Daddy, use me! Show me your might and your glory, come out of the box that I’ve put you in! I want to experience you in your fullness!”

    And, pulling up to the gates of the home I heard His unmistakable voice, “I AM not the one in the box.”

    God’s lessons were beginning, and the megaphone was positioned straight at my heart.

  • Something to talk about

    Teen ministry is hard. Not that every other form of ministry is easy just that with all the issues this generation is dealing with, temptations they are bombarded with and lies that are so deeply ingrained in our culture, it is really hard to get through to them…or to get them to feel like we even know what we are talking about.

    I was once told that what ever it is that breaks your heart and takes you to throne of God in passionate intercession, this is where He has called you. Daily I throw myself at the feet of God on behalf of this generation. Daily I shed tears for their burdens, and daily I shake my fist at the devil and tell him his time is coming and for every child that he deceives that is another child that Jesus will take for His Kingdom! Nothing infuriates me more than seeing them coated in lies and believing them as truth.

    Lately, I had the pleasure of reviewing “Answers Book for Teens: Your Questions God’s Answers” by Bodie Hodge, Tommy Mitchell, and Ken Ham. I say pleasure because for the first time I came across a book that speaks to the issues that teens face in a way that makes sense and speaks at a level of explanation that they can understand. I have read through many resources, and decoding the language took more time than the lessons I needed to teach! Finally, there is a resource available for teachers and parents in a format that I think even teens would find informative and engaging.

    It is really hard to answer questions about the age of the world and the way that science is pitted against the Bible (when in actuality the one supports the other), without boring a room of teenagers that are more interested in the next text message! It is also difficult to address homosexuality and bisexuality in an age of anything goes and if you don’t let others do what they want then you “hate” them. The book explains why we have to have a standard of right and wrong, and how God is that authority. It takes a look at the “function” of sex and it’s purpose and why (as hard as it is to stand firm in the face of so much negative reaction) marriage was created by God for a man and a woman.

    But, what I really like about this book is that it addresses these issues with grace and patience. It takes into affect that the teens might be dealing with these issues and treads decisively but lightly on issues that every adult finds VERY difficult to talk about. The beauty of the book is that it offers hope even in its declarations of sin and failure. It offers the rescue and redemption that is found in Jesus Christ, how God pointed to His plan all along and that despite what it might look like He truly is long-suffering (patient beyond comprehension) and all-loving (without condition or expectation).

    I encourage any youth leader, parent, or teen to read this book. If you have questions, there are answers…rooted in God’s Word and backed up by science and history. It isn’t easy to minister to this generation, but it is possible, and they are worth it. They have within them an incredible desire to be loved and the amazing potential to catch onto that and change the face of organized religion and thus evangelize the world!

  • The day He swallowed my death

    *WARNING THIS IS ABOUT SUICIDE AND MIGHT BE CONSIDERED GRAPHIC

    “Then the saying will come true: Death swallowed by triumphant Life! Who got the last word, oh, Death?” 1 Corinthians 15:51

    In our community we have suffered the loss of 5 teens through suicide in the last 6 months. That’s been almost one a month. So, in an effort to share encouragement and to speak life into broken hearts, we are choosing to make May Suicide Awareness Month and having a huge, free concert this Thursday (June 2) with Building 429, Royal Tailor Band, and Hayley Masters!

    I have a vested interest in this venture. Eighteen years and about a couple months ago, I was convinced that I would be better off dead. The heart-wrenching and overwhelming fear of my future, years of bearing the guilt and shame of a past that I couldn’t come to grips with, and the feelings of isolation and “no one will understand”, were all climaxing to a point where suicide seemed like the best choice.

    Unlike some might think, one very rarely just wakes up one morning and decides to take his/her life. It’s a very deliberate murder of self. Much thought goes into this – the hows and whens and wheres actually are very well thought out. I wrestled through all of those options, and luckily for me, I lived in a foreign country where handguns were not easily accessible, so a blade or a knife to the wrist seemed to be my best bet. I had thought it through and was well aware of the “failure rate” of that type of suicide so I studied my arms and wrists intensely so that I would know exactly where to drive the blade, what blade would be best, and whether or not a knife was necessary. I chose a weekend where I knew that I would be alone in the dorm, because honestly I didn’t want a peer to walk up on the scene and be traumatized. (Strange. I thought I was being thoughtful.) I chose the community bathroom, because there was a large sink drain in the floor and I would run the water so that it would drain away the blood more quickly so I wouldn’t have to endure the sight of blood for long. I knew it would hurt my parents, and come out of nowhere for them because I had worked so hard to disguise my depression and my anguish, but I also figured that they had two other daughters that would fill that void for them. They would be fine. It was the best plan for everyone.

    I remember the walk down the hall. The blade was securely in my hand, and my tears were blinding me. It felt very much like a march to the gallows…even if I was my own executioner. I turned on the light to the bathroom and made my way to the sink. I said my goodbyes in my head, I cried for each of my family members and wished my friends life’s best, then just as I was about to jerk the blade into my flesh, I saw something in the sink faucet. I was crying so I wiped away the tears thinking that I was mistaken, but then I saw that it was a face. I leaned in to take a closer look and noticed it as the precious face of my then toddler niece. Funny, I didn’t think I was going crazy. It was a welcome sight. Then I heard the following words, “For her.” The moment freaked me out. I pulled back and got angry and became once more resolved with the blade when I heard, “NO! You must LIVE for HER!” I know it sounds crazy, but I knew exactly Who was speaking to me in that moment. The Power and Authority in that Voice was so strong. I dropped the blade and fell to the floor, “God, help me! I beg of you, help me!” I heard the door creak at the end of the hall down from the bathroom. I pulled myself up from the floor and wiped my eyes. I was a master pretender. If someone were coming, they would never know what was about to happen. But, no one came. In that moment that I stood and waited for the door of the bathroom to open, all I could hear was my heartbeat, and with every beat of my heart those words echoed, “For her, for her, for her, for her…” I looked at the blade, where it had fallen just about two feet away from me, and I stared at it. I looked at the faucet, where I had seen her face. I looked at my wrists. Then, I remember, squeezing my hands in a fist, dropping them to my side, and walking out of that bathroom.

    I felt two things as I made my way down that hall – “I’ve failed”… and “Now what?” I got back to my room, turned off the light, laid on my bed and waited. The next morning, there was a knock at my door. My friend, Joy Conrad, had made something for me. She brought it to my room. She laid it in my hands. It was a picture album. She had hand-stitched the front with the words “Cast all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you.” But, instead of pictures, this book held about 20 3×5 cards, and written in hand on each one of these cards was verse after verse of God’s promises to me, His love for me, His desire for me, and His purpose for me. She had no idea, but that was the beginning of a long climb out of a dark pit.

    It began with that book. I found the energy to move one step into life. I acted the part of the perfectly healthy teen while I was at school or with my friends, but when I got back to my room, I would sit on my bed, facing the window, and I would sit in silence…letting my heart speak to it’s Creator. The next week, the silence turned to words. I would read those scripture verses out loud and let their power fill the room. The next week, the words were replaced with songs, simple heart-felt songs that echoed my Father’s heart back to me. We stayed in that place for a long time, singing to one another. It probably sounds crazy that I knew He was singing to me, but I knew that He was…He was singing through me and to me… and as we sang, life began to grow brighter. Slowly but surely, I began to write…my feelings, my fears, my heart, my life song…whatever I was thinking. Never knowing that He had given me my purpose in that.

    Last night, as I watched and listened and my heart grieved for those lost and those desperate and those considering, I wept. But mingled in with those tears of sorrow, were profound tears of joy as I nuzzled my husband’s cheek and thanked Daddy God for rescuing my life. It’s no wonder I’m passionate about teen girls…and for the heart of broken women of all ages…it was more than for my niece that He saved me that day. He saved me for every her that He would allow me to meet…and in time He has filled me with a powerful love for them, that refuses to let them believe that they are anything less than worthy! He saved me so wonderfully that year that even the pain that came after that time, and the pain that I recently endured, and the pain that I have yet to endure, in the end, all seem worth it, because with each revelation of frailty, I’m reminded that He is Strong and He is with me, and in those moments of stillness, He is still singing over me.

  • Spirit, Opportunity, and Destiny!

    I think that the church could stand to learn something from NASA. No, really! I was diligently searching the web for a recipe of something healthy and tasty for dinner..ok,ok…I was taking a break from writing and wondering how on earth I devoured an entire Almond Joy without realizing it! Anyway, the title of an article on my homepage caught my eye. NASA: Mars rover, phone home after yearlong sleep. I decided to investigate the story behind the intentionally vague title. I clicked on the story link with visions running through my mind of E.T. holding his (E.T. WAS a HE wasn’t he?) glowing finger in the air and saying, “E.T. phone home.”

    The article was about the attempts of NASA to contact the stuck Mars rover Spirit. Spirit became stuck in a sand trap in April 2009 causing it to be unable to fully tilt its solar panels towards the source of its life, the sun. NASA has continued attempts to contact Spirit on different frequencies and at different times of day in hopes of somehow reaching the rover to find out what happened and how to fix it.

    It is fascinating to me that even though Spirit’s twin rover Opportunity has continued to operate without problems, NASA still cares enough about Spirit to keep searching for that which has been lost. I know another well known “astronomical observer” that cares about the lives of lost explorers, His name is Jesus Christ. In Luke 15:4-7 Jesus tells us how heaven rejoices more over one sinner repenting and accepting salvation through Him than it does over 99 righteous people who are secure in the faith!

    Many people would have already given up on Spirit after a few days or months. Most after an entire year. But not its creators! They have remained faithful to their creation! There have been many, many people who I am quite sure wanted to give up on me. Daddy God who is MY Creator and Savior has NEVER given up on me! He, like NASA, is constantly helping me to free myself from the sinful sand traps of this world. He uses every “frequency” around me (media, dreams, other people, prayers, etc) to try and illicit a response to His Call to serve as I was created to.

    But what about the church? Have we become too joyous over being one of the 99 that we forget the 1? Do the lost get our words and thoughts of pity but nothing else? Do we give up too easily? Jesus encourages me daily to remember why I was created (to serve and please Him), what my primary mission is (to do my part of the Great Commission), and to see Him in EVERY face that turns my way!

    No brothers and sisters we cannot forget the 1! The one in your life that causes you to turn the other way at work, the one who stays in an abusive relationship because she doesn’t realize there is any other type. The one who finds release through cutting because she doesn’t know that her Savior has already bled FOR her. The one who simply cannot accept that those who look upon his tattoos and piercings with such judgmental disgust without even knowing his name or his story could worship anything other than themselves.

    I think it is time that the Body of Christ learned a lesson from NASA. God’s Beloved should always remember that while NASA’s “Opportunity” will eventually cease to function, OUR opportunities to serve will not, and while the Mars rover named “Spirit” may very well be dead, we do not have to let the Spirit within us follow suit. Thank you NASA for reminding me that Daddy God’s Hand can indeed be seen in everything if we just take the time to look.

    The 99 + the 1= 100% ;~)

  • Wisdom from Pooh Corner

    I was lonely this morning. It happens. So, instead of doing the pile of work that has mounted through the week, I got online to reach out…and I came across my favorite wise bear – Winnie. Have you ever taken the time to go through those books? They are some of my favorites! In fact, long before Dr. Seuss or Sandra Boynton, I introduced my kids to the wisdom of A.A. Milne, in the chronicles of a precious bear and his boy. I felt it was a good beginning. It was the best introduction to love and friendship.

    The story of Christopher Robin and Winnie is one of timeless fascination and entertainment, and as the story goes we learn along the way. We learn that just because people don’t look the same or think the same doesn’t mean that they can’t be loved and appreciated for who they are. We learn that friendship is timeless and love is enduring. We learn that we can be “bothered” for a bit and come back to arms of grace and acceptance that say “It’s ok.” We learn that big or small we have a purpose, and most often it is the things that people see as our weakness that endears us to them. And we learn, that even in those times when we are forced to part, our hearts connect us forever.

    Isn’t that a story of hope and assurance that every child needs, every adult needs, every human needs? I’m not sure that Mr. Milne was a Christian, but he certainly loved his son. He created strong life lessons and padded them with the bodies of stuffed animals, and related them beautifully to his precious young son. In the life of a “brainless bear” we experience loss and fear and heartache and imagination. We see depression and apathy, compassion and amazing love…all from a beautiful place called “The Hundred Acre Woods” – A timeless place of priceless lessons.

  • Perfect Timing

    I feel quite certain if I were living in any other time period I would be tried as a witch and sunk to the bottom of the lake. I’m also quite sure if I’d been born in any other country (say a Muslim one for instance, where women must remain quiet and hidden) I would most likely be stoned in the streets. I’m pretty outspoken. I say what I believe, I stand up for what I believe in and I hold tightly to my convictions. In that same vein, I’m not afraid to challenge the convictions of others.

    I was thinking the other day, what if I had been one of the disciples? It’s an interesting question. The romantic side of me would have most likely fallen in love with Jesus. See, to me character far outweighs looks and to be there to watch Him serve and love and care and heal – well, I’d have been smitten! I might have wrestled Mary for her spot at his feet. I’d have hung on every word He said, probably slapped the men when they got side tracked by who would be greater and no doubt I would have wept at His crucifixion. Begging my heart to remember the Truth that He’d taught but silently fearing the unknown.

    Then there is the leader in me. I almost laugh at that, me? A leader? And yet, more and more I’m realizing that’s what this passion in me is about. Reaching out, teaching, sharing, making a difference and expressing it with a voice of authority, a voice that He has given me. I wonder how I would have reacted to Peter! I no doubt might have been the woman that he warned the church against! “Tell that woman to stay silent! If she shares one more story about her long walks with Jesus and that time He danced with her, I’m gonna leave!” Okay, well, maybe not. But I wonder.

    I might have been seen as a religious heretic. I would have found the woman that was cornered in the street, the one Jesus powerfully stated, “He who is without sin should cast the first stone.” I would have watched, waiting, knowing I sat beholding the only sinless one. I would have clapped and danced when the accusers walked away and I would have run to my savior in light of His beautiful goodness. I like to think He would have smiled, because He knew I was there, and then hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Now do as you do – love her for me.” And I would have. I would have told her all I know and all I’d seen and why I would never regret placing my trust in this Jesus that had saved her.

    I wonder… Am I not doing all of that? Except, in the here and now? Where Daddy God placed me safely. Where I would not be killed or silenced or squashed or quenched. And I am reminded of Gods word that says, “He planned out each day of my life before one of them came to be.” He looked the world over and through the span of all time and He smiled and said, “Leslie goes here.” Isn’t that lovely? And I’m nothing special; He did the same for all of us! Adopted and seeking, saved and unsaved… All of us were placed where we are with a purpose, whether we realize it or not.