Leslie A Lamb/Sifted Wheat

Category: Uncategorized

  • The “Unthinkable”

    “Love means doing what God has commanded us, and he has commanded us to love one another.”  2 John 1:6

    Our obedience to God comes from our trust that He has only good plans for us. But, sometimes, He calls us out on a limb asking us to do the “unthinkable,” to step out of our comfort zones and even go beyond the restrains of common sense. What then?

    I was driving to work one morning, the early morning shift at our local Christian radio station, so the sun wasn’t out yet, when I pulled up to an intersection and waited on the light. I was always a little leery at this point in my commute because the intersection was located right next to a graveyard, and even though I am well settled into my thirties, my childlike imagination does wonders with scenarios like that! Trying not to think about the ghosts hovering near my car, I focused all my attention on the light, until I heard a loud bump and knock on my window. My heart shot into my chest and I turned toward the sound, prepared for the worst. And, there she was.

    Her eyes were as wide as any eyes I’d ever seen, or maybe they only seemed that way because it was the only white around her, she was shaking, and it didn’t take much to see that she was in some sort of pain. She was frantic and she was asking me to please roll down the window. I had two thoughts in that moment, “Hit the gas and go!” but the other thought gripped my heart, “She’s hurting, help her.”

    Immediately I realized the Voice of the second thought. Shaking and unsure I reached to push the button for the window, as it started coming down, she started pushing it further, which only intensified my fear! She kept saying over and over, “You gotta let me in this car! You gotta help me!”  The fear in her eyes had me looking around. Was there someone chasing her? Were they close? Was I about to die? She kept clawing at the door so I asked her, “Are you in trouble? Where do you need to go?” She grabbed her stomach and bowled over in pain, “The hospital, ma’am. I needa go to the hospital.” I was just processing this, and still looking around for impending danger, and checking her for blood (all in the course of about 30 seconds) when I heard His Voice rattle my heart again, “Let her in.

    I went cold. I was still shaking. “You want me to what?” I asked, in my head, of course. “Let her in.” Shaking even worse than before, I unlocked the passenger door. She jumped in quickly, speaking just as fast, and unconsciously I slammed myself against my door to give me some space. Everything in the world, dissolved in that moment as I realized, this was beyond me. Stupidly (fear makes us cowardly), I looked at her and begged, “Please don’t hurt me, I’m gonna take you where you need to go. Please don’t hurt me. Jesus loves you and I’m here to help.”

    Let me tell you, none of this was an easy call to obedience, but in my mind I thought, “The hospital is just up the road, just a couple of miles. This is gonna be ok.” So I went through the intersection headed toward the hospital. “Where you going?” she interrupted my thoughts. “The hospital.” Isn’t that what she said. “Oh no, ma’am, not that hospital, the charity hospital!” That was another moment I had to call on God. The charity hospital wasn’t down the street, the charity hospital was across town, about fifteen or twenty minutes from where we were!

    I called my cohost and told him I would be late. Needless to say, he thought I was crazy for picking up a hitch-hiker, that was unsafe, that was “STUPID” but he said he would pray for us, and that I understood to mean, “and if I don’t hear from you soon, I’m calling the cops!” All the while across town, I am talking to God, calling on His protection, and asking Him, “Okay, Lord, we are here, what do you want me to say? We have time.” I forced my body language to change. I took a deep breath, but still shaking uncontrollably it came out jagged and unsure. I felt God speak again, “Listen to her story.” So, I said the only thing that came to my mind, “Are you from around here?”

    That’s when her story unfolded. She was a Hurricane Katrina transplant. She didn’t look to be more than fifteen or sixteen, but she had the eyes of a woman that knew more than a child should. Her boyfriend had moved her here. She had gotten pregnant, and she wanted that baby, I heard it in the passion in her voice when she talked about it; but she lost it. I looked down at her still extended tummy, she was shaking, but I knew from the way she was talking and from her demeanor that was more from addiction than anything else. She pulled up her shirt and showed me a horrible scar that went the length of her belly, no doctor’s work, I was quite sure. “Dat’s where dey took him.” My heart ached. I didn’t know what to say. Then I reached for her hand, and held it. It was so tiny, and I have tiny hands so if I recognized it as small in my hand it was teeny tiny. She was tiny, all but her extended belly. Then I cried, and the words bubbled out of my heart, “Oh honey, God loves you. He sent me to you today. To listen to your story, and to tell you that He loves you. Jesus saved you. He wants you to be safe and healthy and strong. He loves you so much.”  I don’t know what all I said besides that…it kind of floats in and out at times, remembering telling her that God was looking out for her, that He had a plan for her a better life for her. All the while still shaking, but saying what I knew God wanted to say to this girl.

    Before I knew it, we were there. I reluctantly pulled up to the hospital doors, still unsure of what she needed there, probably a fix, but I wasn’t judging her. I didn’t want to let her out the car. But the Voice assured me that I had done what I could.  I gave her some money for a snack and told her to take care, it felt like I was sending one of my daughters in to school, not saying goodbye to a total stranger. She thanked me for the money and I prayed for her, then I watched as she opened the door and placed her feet on the ground. That’s a desperate moment for a heart like mine. I wanted to tell her to stay, that I could find her a job, a place to live, some help, but I didn’t feel like that was my place.  I was fighting back tears, when she turned to face me and smiled. She reached out her hand, “My name is Angelique.” I smiled and took that precious hand again, “It is a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled again and stepped out of the car and shut the door, I watched her walk to the nurse that was standing by the door and prayed for her as she found her way, her place, and her healing. My life forever altered.

    That was two years ago, and the irony of her name has never left my heart. But, the lesson to me was this, sometimes God calls us to do the unthinkable, to defy the rules of common sense, and sometimes we see how that all turns out, the fruits or our obedience, the reason why we were asked at all. But, sometimes, like with Angelique we have to trust that our obedience is that single act of love, and God will handle the rest.

  • The GOOD, the BAD, and the indecisive…

    I was talking with a friend the other day, and she was sharing about a friend of hers and her parenting techniques. Honestly, I have to keep from rolling my eyes in the midst of these conversations, but then she said, “Everything comes back to this, ‘Are you making GOOD choices?’” Huh. She had me. I don’t know that I have ever asked my children that, and when you think about the empowerment that acknowledging the significance of choice gives, it really is amazing! Because we discount it, push it aside, ignore it – UNTIL we make a BAD choice.

    Because I’m a daydreamer, I faded off and I began to imagine the significance that would make as they grew up, as they started dating (or chose not to), as they developed friendships, as they went off to college, and then as they chose a mate. Then I stopped. What a lovely picture! Imagine good choices in marriage – of choosing to forgive instead of holding a grudge, of choosing not to be unfaithful when your needs aren’t being met, of choosing to act in love instead of anger!

    I had the opportunity to review a new book by Gary and Norma Smalley called “Four Days to a Forever Marriage: Choosing Love or Anger.” This is the exact premise of that book. As spouses we are so content to just be, to deal, to settle with what we have, we don’t want to choose to make it better. We use excuses like “I’m too tired to work on my marriage, I’m just trying to get through the day.” Or, “I read a book once, it didn’t help so I haven’t bought another one.” Or, “I know the Bible says to submit to your husband and stuff, but look at our culture, it’s just not the same.” I know these excuses pretty well; I’ve used them. But this book takes you through the day in the life of a couple, their struggles and their fears and in four short days you gain the understanding that it’s all about the choices we make…and making GOOD choices.

    If you think about it, it’s not doing anything more but paying attention to what we are doing! The Smalleys walk you through those daily choices and questions, and you are forced to take a good look at the bad choices we unconsciously make. Like a good friend says, “Not to choose is still a choice.”

    I can choose not to talk to Brian when I am angry, but what am I communicating in my body language, in my actions? Most likely I am fighting him without saying a word, and he feels it. A GOOD choice is swallowing my resentment and saying, “I am ticked, but I’m willing to share with you why I feel this way in the hopes that we can make it right.”

    I can choose to put others first. The Smalleys point out that we often do this without realizing. Anyone in ministry knows that this is a hard one. I would never tell Brian, ”I love strangers more than I love you.” But, when I consistently choose to reschedule dates or leave after the kids go to bed, to mentor and to minister others, subconsciously that is what I am saying. A GOOD choice would be to put firm lines or boundaries between ministering to others and time with my spouse that says, “You are important enough to me that I am making sure that we have time together.” That speaks love and respect.

    Lord knows, I’m not perfect. My marriage isn’t perfect, and I’m not gonna even attempt to write a book about how imperfect a parent I am, and chances are GOOD that my home-life and relationships look like any of yours. But, this book begged me to ask the question, the same question that wise and learned parent asks of her kids every day, the question that I often hear from Daddy God, “Are you making GOOD choices?” If I’m one hundred percent truthful (which I try to be) I answer, “Not usually,” but it’s not too late to start. And my first GOOD choice was investing 4 days into reading that book. (Did you notice that it’s only for 4 days? I’ve done no carb diets for longer with less long-lasting effects!) I only wish it had been around BEFORE I got married, twelve years in it might have saved us some pain from making some really BAD choices.

  • A mirror image

    “You doubt your value. Don’t run from who you are.”
    Aslan, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

    Have you ever wanted to run from who you are? To look at all those pieces of you and think, “I don’t want to be this anymore.” You point out your character flaws and your insecurities and your stark, raw afflictions, and you want to run far and wide as fast as you can. I have. I do.

    I have looked at myself in the mirror and mourned over what I saw. Tired of loving, of being vulnerable, of opening up my all too battered heart, I left my reflection and ran, aimless and without direction, anywhere but facing the truth. I stumbled down paths of depression and boarded myself up in towers of isolation. I insulated myself by pretending that the hurt I felt was slight compared to the pain of so many others, and I convinced myself that my mask was really my protection. I argued that I knew what was best…for me… for them. And all the while I doubted – my value, His workmanship, my calling.

    “Something is wrong with you.”

    That’s the voice that enters my head as I take in that self-same reflection, again. And this time, too, I consider running. I’m inches from darting when I hear His voice, louder and softer than my own, but with more authority:
    “You can run. I won’t stop you. You can aimlessly wander through paths of pain and sorrow, fighting to get away from what you know is true. You can dismiss that the compassion and passion you feel, that resonates deep and beats rhythmically, is exactly how I created you. You can run from the you I designed and look to be like someone else, a shallower someone more calloused and less affected. I will let you. But you know that at the end of that journey, you’ll find yourself, the you that was always meant to be, in My arms, cuddled in My grace, grateful again for My heart that beats in side of you. So, daughter, why don’t we skip the game of hide and seek, and what do you say we just dance?”

    So that’s what I’ve decided. I’m standing tall, looking focused and deeply into that mirror, His face, not wishing I weren’t me but looking to understand why I am. I am gathering up all the pain and the sorrow, the hurt and accusation, and I’m propped up by His feet, and as we sway, He smiles at me, carrying me on, leading me boldly towards myself and catching each tear that falls. And low and behold, if I’m not resembling Him a little more.

  • A Mighty Wave

    One of the things I loved most about working at the radio station wasn’t meeting the Christian artists that came through town… it was hearing their stories. I loved to hear what the Spirit of God did in their hearts to create and form the music that we all love to listen to, the music that speaks to us, the music that says what we need to say, that asks us to do what we cannot fully understand. Not too long ago we talked with Sarah Reeves…a precious young woman of God, who writes music that reaches into our souls and begs us take a listen. I want to share with you a piece of what I remember of her interview about the song, “Mighty Wave.”

    The chorus of that song says this:
    “Even when I’m walking thru the valley of death, even when I’m broken and nothing is left, You lead me on, You lead me on… So I’ll pour my tears in the ocean, and I’ll leave my pain by the shore, and with a might wave You’ll sweep them away til they are no more.”

    This is the story Sarah tells:
    This song came to me in a dream. I saw this picture of the beach and the waves were rolling in, strong but peaceful and sure. In the distance, I saw a woman and she was carrying a basket in her hands. I watched as she approached the shoreline, wondering what she would do; then, I observed in fascination as this woman emptied the basket, and as these huge waves licked the shore they took with them the contents of the basket – her tears. Mesmerized I kept my gaze on her. When the basket was emptied her bowed frame stood up, and freely she walked back up the beach away from the waves, carrying an empty basket. She faded out of my view but the water with all it’s magnificence still rolled, carrying those tears, that heartache further and further out to sea, until they were no more.

    I listened intently as she told this story. She later said that she couldn’t get out of bed fast enough, that picture still clearly in her head, and the song that resulted is what you hear today. This song has played a lot in my heart the last few weeks. It has been a salve, a healing Truth that has helped me bear so much of what I’ve felt, not my own pain exactly, but the pain that I have watched my loved ones endure and persevere through. It hurts to see their eyes with tears and pain, their bent backs and shoulders, to watch them carry this basket that only gets heavier and heavier. And in some way, I suppose what I pray that I can do is to lead them to the shoreline, to help them carry their baskets, and rejoice as we watch the sorrows and pain dissolve into the Mighty Wave of God’s grace, and mercy and love until all that’s left is peace.

    I love that story. I love that image. Listen to the song; may it bring you peace.

  • Remembering the day we will never forget

    Remembering the events of 9/11 and the tragedy of that day is as simple as walking into my living room today, and seeing my ten year old, watching the same TV, legs criss-crossing back and forth with her chin propped in her hands, carelessly watching the Disney Channel. What a radically different picture than the fears and uncertainties that filled my heart that day…ten years ago.

    I woke up early that morning. I was nursing and Maddie was a frequent eater. We’d gotten through our five o’clock, seen Daddy off to work, checked in with Grammy on our progress and played with fingers and toes and had just settled into our last feeding before morning nap. The clock on the VCR blinked 12:00 from the day before. I reached for the remote and turned on the morning news, my only connection to the world not consumed with diapers and pacifiers.

    “A small commuter plane has accidentally flown into one of the buildings.” I listened as some lady gave her report of what she was seeing as the newscaster tried to determine how this could happen. Then as i was watching the smoke, we all saw it, those who did, the plane on the left hand of the screen plow into the parallel building. And I knew, though I’d never thought this word before, immediately my heart lurched, “terrorists.” Maddie became fussy, pushing and pulling, trying to get what my mind had accidentally, unconsciously shut off. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. We were under attack.

    I watched in horror. As the story unfolded, but Maddie had to eat and I wasn’t letting down so I forced myself to turn the TV off. It dawns on me that I never called Brian, and he didn’t call me. My one concern in all the world was her – Maddie, the sweet baby girl trying to rest in my arms. I took her to my bathroom. I don’t know why. It was small and enclosed and I had spent most of my pregnancy there, it had become a safe place. I sat on the floor, rocking her and singing and all the while praying for her, for us, for our protection, for our country, for our president, for Jesus to come and get us.

    I fell asleep there. I woke up about 30 minutes later to even more chaos. More planes and downed towers and debris and bodies and more fear and anger and questions gripped my heart. As I watched the smoke from the gaping hole in the ground and the same billowing out of the pentagon, and the ruins of the collapsed towers, I remembered the woman giving her report from the building close by just an hour before. I wondered, and I still do, is she gone? Her voice still haunts my mind at times, it was so free and light, no fear, just the thoughts and sounds of an observer. I cried. It wasn’t fair! I drove to mom and dads. I didn’t want to be alone.

    I remember it was a picture perfect day. The sky was clear and blue and as I drove I watched the jets fly over head and helicopters in the distance. There was rumor that the president was an hour and half away. The military was positioning. This was war.

    A million thoughts went through my head that day, a million voices, a million scriptures, and ten million prayers. Our lives were changed that day. Our feelings of unconditional security was stripped. America the beautiful was now America the compromised, America the vulnerable, and America the hated. Yes, our pride rallied and we held hands for about six months realizing our frailties and calling on God our only protector and keeper, but as our strength rebounded our faith dwindled.. We began to trust again in our horses and chariots and dismissed the need for a powerful God.

    I do remember powerfully one other thing from that day. My faith in God grew and my hope in my destiny was grounded. I was ready. I would do whatever the end required of me and I would trust that there was a Hope that waited with open arms for when the fight was done. And with that knowledge came peace beyond human understanding, a peace that never waned, a peace that abides still. For the second time in my life when the question “what if this is it?” filled my heart, I was able to respond with powerful truth, “then we go Home.” And, my resolve became greater, my heart more moved, and my spirit more willing to help the unfortunate, the lost, the weak, and the hurting… So that they too might join me in that final homecoming. They too might experience His peace.

    Maddie is up and about now, eating and playing and smiling and laughing. She is safe. And for that I am grateful… To God first who saves us all and to our troops and first responders who went into action that day and everyday before and since, who risked there lives, gave up their families, and allow us a look back 10 years to a day we will never forget.

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  • For the LOVE of us

    I was listening to a discussion last week in which someone said, “God didn’t create us for any other purpose but to worship and glorify Him.” I knew where they were coming from when they said that, but, as I thought about it, I had to disagree. You see, what most theologians shy away from talking about and what pastors don’t really chance to say is this: Our God is vulnerable. Yes, He is mighty and He is infinite and He is Life and He is Truth. He withstands the passage of time. He has always been, will always be, and is yet to come, but He has deep, emotional longings, and those longings culminated in us.

    When God created the earth, He had a plan. He already had angels, they were His worshippers, His Yes men, His go to guys…or spirits…we aren’t sure if they actually have a gender. If worship was what He was looking for, He had it in mass and in surround sound! No. There was something else God desired in man. He longed for companionship…He wanted a heart that loved Him, that sought Him, that wanted Him, not because it was created to or had to, but because it chose to. Therein lies the heart of God for man.

    We cannot forget this, because God is still moved by the heart of man. He still desires companionship, He longs for connection, and He seeks those that will worship Him whole-heartedly. It is this vulnerability that makes me love Him more. It should make us all love Him more…to know that the God of the universes isn’t content to simply make us but that with each stitch of bone and marrow, He planned a life with Himself!

    This is why it is important that we know our worth. This is why it is important that we feel His love. This is why He takes every day of our lives to remind us that we are not a mistake, we were not created in vain; we are chosen, we are loved, and we are His. He wants us to know…not just think, suspect, or assume…but KNOW that we are loved. Not so that we feel good about ourselves, not to stroke our egos, or give us a God-complex, but because He longs for us to accept His love! He reassures us so that we will feel good about Him! He desire’s for us to live in that truth so that we can boldly speak the power of His great LOVE to all that will listen…because then THAT person will choose to love Him, and His vulnerable heart is filled yet again, and His quiver is that much fuller, and His Son’s purpose is fulfilled.

    Jesus died, for the love of us, and it is because of that same amazing love that God created. Don’t mistake Him for a tyrannical celestial King, He is our Ever-present loving Father…seeking all that, like Him, long to be loved.

  • Hurricane Lily

    I admit that when we named our youngest child, we weren’t thinking about the fact that she would share the name with a hurricane, a very bad one, at that. There was no way we could have foreseen such activity from her, either. I’d already had one child, so when I had to jiggle my belly and consume large amounts of chocolate before this one would even roll over or stretch, I figured, “This is gonna be easy!” Ha! I would like to say I am sure in those moments the Lord above chuckled with a mysterious and knowing twinkle in His eye.

    Oh, we weren’t clued in at first. No! She was a sweet little baby..she cooed and giggled and fluttered her little lashes. I couldn’t have been more pleased!

    Fast forward a mere 8 years later… Holy Cow! Let me say, I love my Lily! She is a boisterous, energetic ball of fun, but I had no warning signs, no premonitions, just BAM! Hurricane Lily! She doesn’t stop until her little body just gives out. She wakes up ready for the day (most days…we all have our days) and she goes to sleep in pretty much the same strain of energy. I marvel at her. I am convinced that if I could bottle that I would be a quatrillionaire! (And yes, it would be a number! I would make it a number. I’d be a quatrillionaire!) But seriously, she is teaching me.

    This child is ignited and saturated with passion! She passionately loves, and she vehemently hates! And she can switch from one to the other in zero point three seconds. It’s fascinating to watch. It doesn’t take much, either. It can literally play out like this: “Oh yes, you made brownies! You are the best mom in the world!! Wait. No milk. You HATE me!” I admit it’s a little stressful, wondering what might set her off…but here is another thing about her whirlwind of emotions – they play out quickly. She absolutely does NOT hold a grudge. She has a great memory – she does like to tattle on her sister, but when it comes to her grievances, she will sooner let them go than anyone I know…myself included.

    She’s compassionate. It’s as if she instinctively knows, “This person needs me to be sensitive.” She is a good helper. In first grade she sat next to a girl that lost one of her arms to cancer – Lily made it her job to help Aiyana color when her arm got tired, and when we prayed at night, Lily always remembered Aiyana and prayed for her. In fact, this summer, when we got the news that Aiyana had gone to be with Jesus, the hurricane stopped; she looked at me with big blue eyes, wet with tears and said, “She’s coloring with both hands now.” Yep. That’s my Lily.

    She loves to make others happy. It thrills her to make us laugh, and most the time the humor is potty-related. But, she makes me belly-laugh faster than I can type LOL. She brings a smile to my face when she is concentrating on something, and when she gets it, the brightness in her eyes is precious. She writes love songs to Jesus, and tells me, “Momma, I love you one million and 76, but I love God twenty million and 77!” She loves her Daddy more than any other man on earth, and she has often pouted because he is married (and shoots me a sideways evil-eye because he married me.) She’s not perfect. We still struggle with sharing from time to time, and not a day goes by that I don’t find a new claw mark on her big sister; but she’s 8, I give her grace.

    Why am I telling you all of this? Well, today, as I was cleaning up her room (and ironically, she keeps it very tidy most days), I realized I miss her while she is at school. She really is a light in this house. She brings me more joy than I ever imagined, and I know that she makes God smile, too – probably more so then myself, because He knows what all those characteristics mean, and the woman of passion and purpose that she will one day become.  But for now, I’m still waiting for the bus to come, waiting until I hear Hurricane Lily storm in. She’ll probably rush in with a tattle on her tongue over something her sister did or some funny story she heard at school, or urgently request a new Barbie (probably a Ken doll because she is convinced that the one she plays with is cheating on President Barbie with Mermaid!)  With her, you never know, but I love it. Around here, life is never boring!

  • A Painting Snake

    It all began in the garden of Eden, when the birds were singing and the lion was napping in the embrace of the lamb, a thought entered the mind of man, a lie was spoken and doubt was planted, and we believe it still today: “God is holding out on us.”

    Whether or not we consciously admit it, we believe it. No matter how long and how hard we speak to the opposite that God is love and He is nurturing and He is kind, there is still the part of us that doubts, that wonders, that thinks the same corrosive thought. Oh satan is good, a smarmy charmer in snakeskin, he knew just what to say to make us doubt. So, when the question was posed, “Didn’t God say not to eat from this tree?” He knew good and well, that the next rational thought would be, “Why?” He waited, no doubt with an eternal smirk on his face as he planned the fall of all mankind as Eve searched for an answer, and then he pounced, forever bringing to question the love and honesty and Truth of God, “You will not surely die…You will be like Him.” You can sense the audible gasp in the garden! What? You mean, our Creator, the One that says we are created in His image, the One that loves us and made us, He doesn’t want us to be like Him?” And the lie sets root and the thought sets deep and all mankind is left to doubt, “God is holding out on us.”

    Isn’t this the very lie that holds us back? We would be bolder in our faith, speak louder, reach farther, live courageously, hope unswervingly, but what if…? What price will we pay? How much will He ask? Can I trust Him? We cautiously wade out, not trusting that the water can hold us…that walking is too hard, or the step wasn’t small enough or large enough, and so not even two steps from the bow we are clinging to the boat. We shout to the people in the boat, “Look. See? Trust Him!” and the whole time they are watching with eyes wide, disbelieving because why would they even venture to the side if you can’t even let go?

    The lie becomes more pervasive when we face the unexpected. When we get the diagnosis we didn’t want. When we hear the words we never thought we’d hear. When we face the circumstance that we never wanted and even begged God about. When we pray in belief and still our loved one dies. These are the moments that the lie wraps itself around our timid faith and we begin to call into question every good, loving, nurturing, kind characteristic of God. And the enemy whispers, “He’s holding out on you.” We agree, though we might never admit it. “Yes! He could have healed her! He could have rescued her! He could have saved her! He could have ended it!” And bitterness grows…and distance deepens…because the God that we now picture fixes us with a steely gaze and could care less about our pain, and isn’t as powerful as He once appeared. And the enemy sneers…because he’s given you the picture that he wants you to see, the picture that will strip you of hope and rob you of peace and kill your faith. The same picture that snake’s been painting for a very long time.

    But, I don’t find this picture of God. Even in the desperate sin of man and the overwhelming sadness of misfortune and illness and pain, there is not a single glimpse of this God. We can believe that lie only so long as we don’t pick up the Word of God…because when we pick up the Word of God – the reflection of Himself, His Story of His nature – we find far more. We see the eyes of a loving Father that even in the fall of man, protected and nurtured them to be a mighty nation. We see the love of a Saviour that looked beyond the grime of sin and shame to the heart and need of a people that would surely die without His sacrifice. We see a gentle Shepherd that will leave the 99 in the gates protected and provided for to search out the little bleat that insinuates danger. We see the passionate Lover that will romance us and seek for us and all the while desires the joy of knowing that we seek and long for Him. We see the Almighty God that calms the seas and heals the unlovely and sets the imprisoned and depressed free. We see the Friend that sticks closer than a Brother that weeps and grieves at loss and beckons us closer so that He might comfort our tear soaked souls. We see this God, Who gave it all, Who took it all, Who bore it all…not because He was holding out on us…but because He wants to HOLD US. Our desperation leads us to His grace. Our fear seeks His peace. Our longing needs His fulfillment…and He doesn’t hold back. He gives. The enemy knows this…and knows the power that this picture of God holds…a power that he will never have, a love that he’ll never know.

    So the rational question we all face in the midst of adversity is “Why?” I’m asking it, too. But the answer isn’t “God is holding out on you.” I know this. I don’t know what the answer is, but I know that my God is loving, caring, nurturing, forgiving, giving, and compassionate…and though He may sometimes tell us “No” it’s never because He’s punishing us. I believe this. Enough to step out of the boat. Enough to pray again, and believe again and hope again and trust again…and if you could see me now, you’d see that I’ve let go of the side of the boat.

  • Waiting Room

    There is no greater weight than waiting. It weighs heavy and doesn’t budge. You can’t push it or pull it or put it off. Waiting is a burden. It doesn’t matter what you are waiting for. I think when you have to wait it is the closest you get to understanding that you are not in control. When you are forced to wait you are reminded that there are some things that aren’t instant and as much as you feel like you can do anything, you are limited.

    I don’t do waiting well. Can you tell? Whether it’s waiting on my place in line or the phone to ring or an email to be returned, waiting and I are not friends. I really don’t do waiting well when what I’m waiting for is so very important … Like waiting for a baby to be born (especially your own!). Every day feels like a million and you think, “Maybe if I went to sleep I could wake up and she’d be here and everything would feel less long.” Sadly, my morning sickness wouldn’t let me sleep for 9 hours much less 9 months! And time doesn’t pass all that fast when your head is in the toilet.

    Waiting on death is miserable. I’ve been there, too – waiting for a healthy heart to stop beating while the rest of the body slowly shuts down. You beg for God to move swiftly and gracefully all the time hating yourself for making that call, because wouldn’t life be best? Not always. You watch the family struggle and watch the body slowly look less and less like it should, and, all the while, deep down, you know He knows and you Know He is working even when you can’t see, but it is the waiting that gets to you, tires you out, upsets you.

    Waiting on God to reveal His will is hard. Whether it’s a vision that you’ve foreseen and believe will come to pass or whether it’s the next step in your career or ministry, it isn’t easy. You wanna spin the dial or find a piece of wool somewhere or any kind of fabric really, I’ve even used paper. I’ve never found a piece of paper bone dry the next morning…that would be something, but I’ve never had that happen. It messes with your mind, because you know He is there. You know that He hears, and you Know that He has a plan…if only He would pull back the curtain and fill a sister in! (Oh wait, or brother).

    I wanna go back to the days of detached hands scrawling words on the wall. Heck! I’d even take an airplane writer in the sky, it doesn’t have to be so miraculous. I can just see some guy in a hangar waiting to take off and all the sudden he gets an idea and before he really knows what he is doing he’s written: “Leave your job” or “Take the second door” or “Wear the heels!” Of course, it might cause all kinds of confusion for others that see it, but hey! I know what it means! I’ve seen that door, I’m leaving that job! I know just the heels! Sighhh. Yeah, now that I think about it, it probably wouldn’t work.

    Waiting. I am. Are you?

    “Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.” Psalm 27:14

  • Open the Box

    It’s time to take God out of the box. We don’t do ourselves any favors by keeping Him there. He isn’t limited by what we don’t see. We are limited by what we don’t believe. Lately, my faith has been tested. I’ve been introduced to the prophetic, interceded with the tongue speakers, and covered the feet of the spiritually slain. I don’t get it. I haven’t experienced it, but to deny it is God, well, that just crams Him back into the box I’ve rebelliously fashioned. God is beyond our understanding, He works outside of our comprehension, and He moves outside of our line of sight. For that we should be grateful!

    Let me introduce you to Gloria. Gloria doesn’t put God in a box, mostly because He’s never fit in one and secondly, because how she came to know Him. Do you ever question if God loves sinners? Gloria doesn’t have to. See, Gloria was introduced to God, to the Spirit of Almighty God, high as a kite and drunk. And it all started with a question, “How you gonna come to me like this?!” See, she’d just gotten a call, from a Christian couple that wanted to help her out financially, but first they wanted to pray with her. So Gloria, not wanting to show up looking like she was three sheets to the wind, “prettied up” and met up with them, and obediently she prayed. But, something happened while she prayed. A song welled up from her chest and broke through her drunken haze and resounded in the air. She admits that she didn’t know what it was, or where it came from at first, only that it was, but as she continued to sing, a high like she had never experienced before hit her. Euphoric, we’d say. “Like that first hit of crack,” she explained. “You know, when you take that first hit, it feels so good. It takes you to this place you ain’t neva been, but what you don’t know when you get it is, you ain’t eva gonna get it again. It’s what makes crack addicts addicts. They still looking for that first high. But it ain’t comin’.” I had no idea what she was talking about. I hadn’t had that first hit, and up until that moment, I’d never talked with someone who admittedly had. She confessed that she found it strange, but she instinctively knew it was the Spirit of God. She left her friends place amazed and encouraged, because crazy as it seemed she had met God.

    I know, our God in a box wouldn’t meet a junkie in the midst of her high. He would wait, until she was sobered up or reaching out and singing “Just as I am” in church right before an alter call. You won’t convince Gloria of that. Her testimony continued, “So when I got home after that prayer and that crazy moment of high with Jesus, I came down and said, ‘God, if that’s You, You gonna do that again?” She was skeptical, but she sat in her room, completely dark, and started talking to God and sure enough, the Spirit hit her hard, just as intensely as before, just as beautifully, just as amazingly. She shook her head in the that part of the retelling of her story as she obviously felt that thrill all over again, “And I realized then, that wasn’t like any high you gonna find on earth…that God ain’t about giving one time hits and it’s over. That high was available to me at any time I asked, because my Jesus loves me.”

    It’s taken me a few days to process this testimony. It has taken me some time to wrap my arms around this God, so different from the One that I’ve grown up with, so different from the box labeled “Acceptable experience”, so different from the stories I’ve heard in the past. But as always, the proof of God is the life that is changed. Oh my beautiful Saviour, is Gloria a life changed! He might have met her as a sinner but He saved her to be more, and she hasn’t disappointed Him. See, my story of being saved at six and journeying through life and experiencing God at every turn might be enough to soften someone’s heart for Jesus, But a crack addict, a junkie, a soul desperate for the next fix, they need Gloria’s story. They need to hear that when we sing “Just as I am” we really mean wherever and whenever that might be. They need to know that God doesn’t wait for them to put on some respectable clothes and clean up, He wants to clothe them with grace and mercy, a wardrobe that withstands the test of time. They need to know that God isn’t sitting in a box somewhere waiting for some pious, religious person to deign to release Him on the masses. He is real and reaching and calling to them “Come.” He isn’t limited by our boxes, but we limit the True Life He gives when we relegate Him to one.

    It’s time to open the box, for His sake, for Gloria’s sake, but most of all for YOUR sake.