Measure and extravagance

The patriarch of my family was my grandfather. I adored him, despite his stingy heart. When some of us think of misers, we picture Scrooge Macduff, sitting on his pile of money. Misers may have tons of money in their mattress, but their poverty comes from their heart. And it is devastating.

I married the most generous man I know. He's like Santa. Always generous, always giving. When he stays tapped into the love of His Father, the richness of his heart can be outright ludicrous. :)

This challenges me because my generosity is measured. It is weighed. My grandfather rears his hoary head in my soul and evaluates what has been given, and received. Everything must be equal.

Over the years my soul is challenged again and again, and it is becoming more frequent. People give to me more than I can repay. They give me their talent, their time, their money. I CANNOT REPAY IT. It drives me bonkers. I'm afraid they are like my grandfather, waiting for repayment. My guilt can be crippling.

We just moved to a tiny town in Oklahoma. After feeling claustrophobic in a highly residential neighborhood in Connecticut, we are reveling in the big skies, quiet farmland and smiling people. What we did not expect were neighbors. Each lives a quarter to half mile away, and still they 'popped by' the first week we were here. They give us space, but they wave every time they drive by. I congratulated myself by busting out cinnamon rolls and taking them over last night to say Merry Christmas.

I really think God gets amused by my giving.

Just now one couple dropped by with Christmas goodies. And not just goodies, overflowing Christmas bags of presents for the kids. I was blown away. With our recent move our finances have been tighter than we'd like at this time of year. My Santa husband is struggling, but my more measured generosity sees it as a chance to teach character. LOL!!!!

God is such a good Papa. And He is anything but measured. God is lavish. He is abundant. He doesn't weigh what He has or what has been given. He gives ALL.

He gave all He had because of how much He loves us. He gave Himself. I love my grandfather dearly, but I want to look like my Papa. Extravagant.

Little Flames

Four years ago I was one month away from giving birth to my son. My first two were daughters, and even though I had brothers, I didn't know what to expect when it came to boys. It's been a joy every day since I saw his chubby face. 

Eben is very physical. He hits and kicks everything, including his sisters. Sometimes he just walks and kicks and punches, while saying, "Kick! Punch!" He's a living comic hero; I keep expecting Kazam! and Kapow! to appear in bubbles over his head. My husband and I are constantly teaching him boundaries about physical contact. 

What I didn't expect was that I'd be his queen. I'm perfect. The most beautiful. I make the best food. I sing the best songs. A couple weeks ago when I dressed up to go out, he swatted my bottom and said I was 'dewishous'. I can't imagine where he learned that... ;)

I was a little conflicted by this hero worship. I'd seen the same dynamic with my brother and my mom, and I didn't like it. I'd also seen countless mothers resist the mother/son separation that eventually ends in marriage, and I didn't like that either. 

So this is what I'm learning. I love being worshipped. God and I have something in common. :) But being god in my son's life has huge ramifications; how he views and treats women hinges largely on me. 

This is what I will teach:

Be gentle. Listen. Be strong. Be sensitive. Treat women like ladies, but have boundaries. 

I'm sure that list will grow, but it's a start. 

Someday my boy will worship another, and I will celebrate it while shedding a few tears. I choose not to worry about this eventuality, because the reality is that I have someone else that worships me and doesn't leave. :)

Today I said this to a friend, "Keep the homefires burning because the little flames leave." The love I share with my husband isn't as blind as the love my son has for me, but it's better. Intimacy can be scary. My husband will tell me what he thinks. Sometimes he corrects me. Often he challenges me. And the very best thing, he always chooses me. It's dewishous. :D

The Biggest Battle

Today was a day of multiple lessons. I'm learning to organize, plan and schedule. I'm not deterred by the fact that I haven't done that much in the past years, I was building a house instead. So now I'm building my family. Better late than never. ;)

First move; tweak my parenting. I'm reading Parenting the Powerful Child by Dr. Kevin Leman. I recommend it, as all my children are powerful. As I'm a staunch advocate of Danny Silk, I want my children to be powerful. I just don't want them to become insensitive pricks. :D (sorry, that was a Men In Black moment)

We have two puppies that love to chew. Recently they found stuffing from who knows where and spread it all over the yard. I'd given the kids multiple opportunities to clean it up but they didn't and the job got bigger. Providence slept in till ten today so I thought it was a job she'd have plenty of energy for. But it was not so. It was to big, too hard, she just couldn't do it! I told her I was willing to do it, but I was busy and it would cost her fifty dollars. (she just got fifty dollars for her birthday) She chose to pay me fifty dollars.

I was flummoxed. That didn't go the way I wanted it to, so I prayed. Then I went and raked the yard. Took me twelve minutes; most lucrative twelve minutes I've ever worked. Lightbulb! The barn was trashed with paper, broken glass, and misc things that the puppies had pulled out.

I called Providence. "You have the opportunity to earn back your money. I really wanted to take you clothes shopping. You have thirty minutes to decide if you want the job." Five minutes later she was walking to the barn with a trashbag. Sweet! I thought...

The battle wasn't over. Ten minutes later she came back inside. She'd given up; it was too hard, too big, she just COULDN'T. I looked at her, prayed, and then unloaded.

"Your biggest battle is yourself. The job is small. you are letting your fear of spiders, of amount of work, be bigger than you. It's not hard. It's easy. Tenacity and determination are muscles. You have to CHALLENGE them. If you never do this, you won't become interesting enough for an amazing guy. You won't finish college. You won't do anything."

I was worried I was too harsh. A few minutes later, she silently left to try again. Fifteen minutes later it was done. I asked her if she was proud of herself. "NO." She replied. But I saw a grin sneak into the corners of her mouth as she walked away. ;)

Building

On Saturday we stopped at a yard sale and I scored three gallon ziploc bags of Lincoln Logs, all for three dollars. My tech savvy kids spent a couple hours playing with them, until Eben, my three year old decided to spend his time doing demolition instead of building. It reminded me of playing with my brother, who once he had passed the years of destruction, longed to play legos and FischerPrice town with me.

I hated playing. I had dolls, stuffed animals, My Little Ponies, Strawberry Shortcakes and a couple Barbies. (my mom hadn't made up her mind about Barbie) But I didn't play with them. I 'fixed' their hair. And then I looked at them.

When my brother hit age six this all changed, because he began receiving Lego sets for Christmas. I was thrilled. He was a little too young to put the castles together, but I was the perfect age. I built most of his castles. He wanted to arm the soldiers, fight, conquer...and just play. All I wanted to do was build. In those early years we never saw eye to eye, because the other was driven by a totally different perspective.

I recently noticed this same paradigm in the giftings of people around me. We are all so different. I like to create, imagine and build. So does my husband. The people closest to me love to manage, to pastor, to lead and inspire. It seems simple enough to notice gifting. Or to know if you're a builder or a manager. But most of our experience has been the direct opposite.

We are surrounded by criticism. The detail conscious is told they aren't time efficient. The trouble shooter is told they are lazy. The efficient is told they aren't meticulous enough. And the cycle begins again. Why the comparison? Do we really expect a person to have both brilliant ideas and impeccable follow through? Yes. Yes we do. In our high value for individuality, we expect every single person to be a jack of all trades, and master of all. Unconsciously, I expect that of myself.

Jesus doesn't think this way:

Ephesians 4:11-13New Century Version (NCV)

11 And Christ gave gifts to people—he made some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to go and tell the Good News, and some to have the work of caring for and teaching God’s people. 12 Christ gave those gifts to prepare God’s holy people for the work of serving, to make the body of Christ stronger. 13 This work must continue until we are all joined together in the same faith and in the same knowledge of the Son of God. We must become like a mature person, growing until we become like Christ and have his perfection.

The best support for what some would call the five fold ministry is that no one person can do it all, and that God didn't intend us to. In order to make the Bride mature, He gave us gifts; apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers. To equip us. To prepare us. To make us like Him. Whole and complete, lacking nothing.


Do you know what you are strong in? Do you like to create or do you like to manage? How has God created you? We already have an accuser of the brethren. Don't listen to him, and don't use his words towards others. Just dream a lot, do what He tells you to do, and encourage the Body. :)

Psalm part one

Deal with me; my heart is hungry and you are silent.

You called, I answered and then you left me here. 

You are the Faithful One; where are you?

Is God Good?

I think this is the scariest question that anyone, believer or non believer can ask. Whether we believe in Him or not, there is a part of us that hopes He is good; bigger, smarter, and more wise than we are. Something groans in our hearts at the devastation in the world. The poverty. The rage. The bereft earth.

Growing up, I couldn't see Him. I was saved at an early age, but it was an intellectual choice spawned from a fear of hell. The culture in my home was rarely one of love, most often one of discipline, punishment, control and violence. I felt like my soul was being slowly robbed of oxygen. God is good? How can God be good when I'm in so much pain?

I'm not going to get into a theological discussion about this. That's for another post.

I also didn't believe that I was good. I yearned to be good, but I felt like goodness wasn't possible for me. Somehow in my infancy I'd signed the contract; relinquishing goodness to those more sweet and malleable than I. No matter how much I tried, it was impossible to please my parents, and infinitely more impossible to please God. I believed every label I was given; rebellious, controlling, moody, unsaved, worthless.

A good friend suggested that I ask God to show me how I was good in my childhood, and to show me His Hand throughout my life.

This took a degree of repentance from my opinion of my past. I had to be open to the possibility that I was wrong. But I was desperate so I asked.

God often speaks to me through childhood books and this was no exception. I heard Him while rereading The Horse And His Boy by CSLewis. The story is about a prince who grew up a slave; in oppression and pain. And his journey to freedom. In this passage Aslan, the Jesus figure, is explaining His part in Shasta's life.

Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. and then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the Tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since had had anything to eat.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.

“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.

“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two lions the first night, and …”

“There was only one, but he was swift of foot.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the lion.”

And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you as you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

As I read this I was struck by His presence in my present and my past. I had a cat who did very uncatlike things. And other animals who surrounded me with comfort and love when the people in my life were unsafe. God was present. He wastes nothing.

As I begin to see Him, how I see myself has gradually changed. I loved to question and argue, because I wanted to understand. But I obeyed, not because my parents deserved honor, but because I understood authority. I had a very strong will, but as soon as I discovered truth, I'd set my will towards it. I had a hard time trusting, but I wanted to be teachable, so often I trusted the untrustworthy. I'm not saying I was perfect, but I'm seeing myself as a Child of God.

Often I feel His presence in my daily life. I've had to allow Him to train my heart, but the process was worth it. All I can say now is that He is Good. He is so Good.

The Responsibility of Sight

There is a blessing in knowing the process of God. Because now you can cooperate. -Graham Cooke

I constantly ask God for eyes to see and ears to hear, but I've discovered that those senses comes with added responsibility. As do all His gifts. ;) I am hugely big picture. Often I think of the Church in the sense of the Bride, Big C Church. I have a high value for balance, so if a local body is leaning to one side I push to the other. Only I know what I'm doing so obviously it creates confusion in everyone else.

In maturing, it can be exceptionally difficult to know what to do with the tools He gives us. For myself, I don't always do the right thing with what I see. Most of the time He's wanting me to view it as an invitation to pray with Him. Instead I put my stick in and stir.

Recently something came up that offers big changes. All the variables are in place. It could be epicly big. Does it get me excited? Sometimes. Mostly it scares the shit out of me. Today I'm discouraged and I feel like an idiot. Yesterday I felt amazingly hopeful.

So I was trying to pray and I remembered how the spies were sent into Canaan to assess the land. Joshua and Caleb saw abundance and prosperity, and the other spies saw giants. The people listened to the ten spies and had to wander forty more years in the wilderness.

Graham Cooke says the forerunner spirit searches the earth for those who want to go in front. I realized that all twelve spies were forerunners! They all went ahead of the people! They all saw the same land, but only two chose to focus on what God wanted them to see.

So what I see in front of me is huge, but it is up to me if I choose to look at the abundance or the giants.

I'm going to choose to look at the Promise. And really, it gets easy when I remember I have a huge Lion padding by my side. :D

Strong Willed

When I was a child, James Dobson was the Christian parenting whisperer. My mom read his book, "The Strong Willed Child", and it armed her for the fight. With me.

I'm not exactly sure what I was like as a child. I was quiet and reserved. I heard I was strong willed. I was a thinker. I argued if it didn't make sense, not for the fun of it. Although that's what it seemed like. As a mom I understand that it isn't always easy to explain things to a child, and sometimes it's not the right time. So I give my mom grace.

As I look back over my life, I appreciate my strong will more than anything else. It has been the thing that formed my powerful choices, and my follow through.

When I was six, I gave my life to Jesus. I didn't see any evidence there was a God, but I was morbidly afraid of hell fire. (pronounced hell fahr) ;) The choice seemed obvious to me, so I chose. Then I spent the next ten years forcing my brain to conform to my choice. Because my ability to choose was stronger.

I remember the day I chose Adam. It came a couple weeks after I thought I had chosen him. The first time was because he had kissed me. I had a kiss vow with God. The real day I chose him was the day he showed his heart to me. I didn't look back.

Our culture tries to convince us that we are at the whim of our circumstances and our instincts. Somehow this teaches us that we are powerless in the tide of our feelings or mentalities. But this is not true. For example, lets say I really want to drink an entire pitcher of beer. My brain tells me that that amount of alcohol will cause pain tomorrow. My feelings tell me that it will make me feel better. So then I choose. Going with logic or feelings is not the problem. Rather, it's not realizing that my power was in my choice. I can't blame either, because I chose. Every time I refuse to take responsibility for my choice, I hand over my power to something that was smaller than I.

Making a powerful choice is like designing a career path. This is the way, walk ye in it. It was my sheer stubborn will that has kept me on the path of my choices. I felt like I was betraying myself if I broke a commitment. Today my best choices are no longer held by force of will. Adam is everything I thought I saw back then and more. I am in love with him more and more each day.

I don't really know how to define how my relationship with Jesus has become bigger than reality. I had a friend challenge me to start blogging about how my knowledge and encounter are meeting, and I'm still working on that one. I only understand that I am in love with this Person that makes me more whole and joyous with every passing day. My head understands more and more, but His Presence reminds me I'm a baby. My heart is growing like the Grinch's on Christmas day. God still does not show up for me like I want Him to, but I think He has a better idea of what I need and I trust Him.

In today's sermon, the pastor ended with the question, "Is Jesus Enough"? I have a lot of dreams for myself and my family. Really big dreams. It scares the shit out of me to consider that they might not come true. But when I look at Jesus I know that my walk with Him has no limit, and that my life is just seventy or eighty years at the beginning of eternity. I may dream big, but it's because I'm like Him, and His adventure with me is just beginning.

He Makes Me Brave

Military basic training ingrains three principles into it's recruits; physical strength and endurance, excellence in weaponry, and command structure. Once trained, a soldier is equipped with everything he or she needs; the ability to discern a threat, to listen and obey commands, to work with a team, and to conquer.

The Believer is called to rest in the tension between two positions; to live in peace, and to be a warrior.

1 Thessalonians 4:11 …and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands, just as we commanded you.

Ephesians 6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.

Revelation 3: 21 He who overcomes, I will grant to him to sit down with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne. 

We weren't born in a Kingdom just to develop character and then be carried away into the sweet by and by, we were born into an Army of Grace. Jesus broke the power of death, but it is our job to retake the ground that Adam surrendered. Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. That prayer cannot be enacted in passivity. It has to be enacted in that tension; the tension between rest and battle.

Some of the day to day crap we go through is self inflicted, and some of it isn't. Make no mistake, whether self inflicted or not, the Enemy is set to sabotage you. And God's plan for you. The battlefield is in the mind. You may not see demons behind every rock, but discouragement is not a heavenly fruit.

Jesus was attacked in the wilderness at His weakest point. The Enemy questioned Who He was, and what He came to do. Jesus didn't get rocked, but I get rocked in this all the time.

Right now this is my biggest fight; Who I am, and What I am supposed to be doing.

God is hard at work in my life; teaching my Who and Whose I am, giving me a lion heart, preparing my hands for war.

Psalms 18:34 He trains my hands for battle, So that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.

Ephesians 6:13 Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, stand firm.

Notice that standing firm is the last step. Fight, resist, then stand firm.

Faithfulness and forbearing are amazing fruit, but they make aren't the only weapon we are designed to wield. Is a soldier only trained in physical fitness and then sent into the Enemy's camp? Nope. He puts on camo, a kevlar helmet, bullet proof vest and carries a semi automatic weapon, grenades, a bayonet, a ka-bar knife, and possibly a handgun. He depends on his buddies for strength, and he does exactly what he's been told to do. If he gets overwhelmed by enemy fire, he retreats or hunkers down. But he doesn't go into battle with the purpose of hunkering down. He goes in to win.

I'm practicing the tension; learning peace and learning battle. I'm not going to let faithfulness become passivity. Fighting from a position of rest and identity. He makes me brave. :)

Theology and Encounter

I really like words. Words convey thought. I like finding out exactly how and when a word came into existence and how culture adjusted it's meaning throughout the years. My favorite word website is etymonline.com. It gives me a better understanding of the full implications of a word as opposed to a simple dictionary.

Etymonline describes the word theology as thus:

theology (n.) Look up theology at Dictionary.com
mid-14c., "the science of religion, study of God and his relationship to humanity," from Old French theologie "philosophical study of Christian doctrine; Scripture" (14c.), from Latin theologia, from Greek theologia "an account of the gods," from theologos "one discoursing on the gods," from theos "god" (see theo-) + -logos "treating of" (see -logy). Meaning "a particular system of theology" is from 1660s.

Encounter is defined as:

ncounter (v.) Look up encounter at Dictionary.com
c.1300, "to meet as an adversary," from Old French encontrer "confront," from encontre (see encounter (n.). Weakened sense of "casually meet" first recorded in English early 16c. Related: Encountered; encountering.

I actually thought that encounter just meant 'to meet'. Isn't it interesting that the word originally meant more than a casual meeting?

I've been involved with worship music since I was seventeen. As part of a worship team, and also in the classes I attended in Bible college, I was privy to many views on the purpose of worship. You'd have to go back and study the history of church music to get a full understanding of how it has evolved; I don't want to get into it here. Suffice it to say, it's usually just an argument of old vs. new, hymns vs. choruses, etc. I think one side is always arguing that one kind is holier or more accessible to the congregation.

One of the observations that have been expressed is that many of the songs written today have little theological depth, or even worse, flawed theologically. This is true for many songs. Both hymns and new worship alike. But there are several factors we need to examine instead of deeming something theologically fluffy.

For example, have you read President George Washington's State of the Union address and compared it to President Barack Obama's? I haven't. I've only read excerpts. But the disparity of the language is immense. Today's second grade level verbiage hardly compares to yesteryear's intense, weighty and verbose rhetoric. Some of this is because we are all more stupid. Really. Some of it is because we have found simpler ways of conveying heavy topics. Just because something is more wordy doesn't mean it's saying more. Like this blog. ;)

Theology is just the study of God and His ways. Studying doesn't necessarily lead to KNOWING. I could read a biography about my husband but in no way can that be compared to being his wife and knowing him through close relationship.

I don't mean this to be offensive in the slightest, but for us academic types, studying is the easy way out. It is so easy to sit down with a book, take notes, think a bit and then write a paper. I have read and studied the Bible. I have read countless books written by Bible scholars from centuries before. At the end of the day, my mind has just been filled with words and opinions. I am as close to knowing Him as I would have been reading a biography of my husband.

What are people talking about when they refer to theology? For most, they are talking about an intellectual, cerebral grasp of the God and His ways. Theology doesn't have to be intellectual. I can learn about God through experience. When I experience His goodness, and then read about it in Scripture, it has been confirmed that Goodness is one of the attributes of God. I KNOW it.

I can't KNOW something intellectually. In the sense of belief. What convinces a person that something is true? Is it logic or reason? Or is it a feeling? I can argue for and against the existence of God and achieve a rational argument for both sides. But it is my EXPERIENCE  that convinces me that God is real. Feelings aren't supposed to be separated from thought. From a neurological standpoint, feelings are actually hormonal flags supporting other thoughts. We cannot separate them. You can tell me till you are blue in the face that God loves me, but if I have no frame of reference, if all I have known is hardship and abuse, this means nothing to me. Love is only an idea until it is felt. Once it has been experienced, one can start structuring reason on top of it. If it is not experienced, your mind can be changed be a better argument. The structure of truth on top of experience is crucial however, because once the experience has past, your present feelings can influence your mind.

From a worship leader's standpoint, should I lead the people in songs that are theologically accurate? Of course. Should I teach them about God through the songs? Of course. Should they have theological depth? Come on, what does that even mean? Does that mean we should get out our pens and paper and take notes and look into the Greek and perhaps delve into commentaries to see the different opinions of the (supposedly) more learned scholars?

One cannot convey depth academically. Words merely convey thought. Not heart. 

What they can do, is open a door. Words are an invitation; depth is a process of walking further in.

Not everyone learns academically or intellectually. In fact, spiritual depth can be communicated simply. In a sentence, spoken over and over. How is that?

Revelations 4:8   Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under his wings. Day and night they never stop saying: "HOLY, HOLY, HOLY IS THE Lord GOD ALMIGHTY, WHO WAS, AND IS, AND IS TO COME."

For infinity past and infinity to come, they sing the same thing. Why? I personally think that every time they circle around the throne they are aware of a new aspect of His holiness. Now that's depth. Ever closer, further in, higher up.

I feel that leading the Body in worship should be a combination of three things;

1. Know your flock. Understand where they are spiritually. Neither discount the immature or the mature.

2. Create an atmosphere that blesses God. God inhabits the praises of His people, and He shows His presence in the place where people are hungry for Him. Make God and His agenda foremost.

3. Choose songs that invite. You can't lead people into a place you haven't been. Seek His face. Spend time in private worship. The songs don't have to be theologically complex to teach. Simple is best.

Last but not least, we cannot separate theology from encounter. If encounter is first, it needs to be followed with knowledge. If knowledge is first, it must be followed by encounter. Being a friend of God doesn't mean being a bookworm. ;)

Lies and Desire

I was taught that desire was evil. Unless it was something of God or of some practical use. Like, if I desired to be kind. Or if I desired to wash the dishes. All good. Any other desires might be fueled by pride, a need for attention, or just a mistaken view of the harshness of the world. Don't hope for anything, because disappointment is crushing.

Growing up I always wanted to sing. I'd run through the pasture singing The Hills Are Alive, or America the Beautiful. I was sheltered from pop music so I didn't sing Like a Virgin. I guess that's a blessing. I was so hungry to sing, but I questioned that desire with every ounce of my being. Here's my check list:

1. I want attention
2. If I'm meant to sing, I'd have a great voice.
3. I don't have a great voice
4. If I'm meant to sing, I'd do it anywhere at any time and all the time. I'd wait till I was in private.
5. Anything I want can't be from God.

Eventually I shut all that down in order to pursue voice in college. But I developed acid reflux from stress and entirely lost my voice. So, I took that as a sign from God; He doesn't want me singing.

After years of pain during singing, I came to a moment in worship that required a decision. Basically, I said, "Screw this, God! I'm going to sing and worship you! Even if it hurts! At least I'd give my last little bit to you instead of reserving my voice for me." And for the first time in my life, I felt God touch me.

That started a long process of faith. My voice often hurt, but not nearly as bad. I began practicing, took vocal lessons, and set my feet towards Him. The funniest part was that I still hated my voice. I had a friend tell me I sounded like Julie Andrews. That cut me to the quick. I didn't want to sound like Julie Andrews. I wanted to sound like Adele. :)

I started singing in a worship team at church. That was trippy. Here I didn't like my voice and I had to hear it magnified by the mic, through the monitor and into the mains. Happy happy joy joy. (make sure you enter sarcasm there)

I was scared every time. It sucked. But do you know what? After a long period of time, only one of my two major truths remained. I wanted to sing and I hated my voice. Which one do you think was allowed to stick around? :)

I'm still not particularly brave. I'm working on it. I still don't think my voice is fantastic, but I don't hate it. Know why? Because I've got the only one. God made only one of me. There is only one voice fully mine, and if that's how I'm going to express myself to my Jesus then so be it. If He is happy with my voice, then I will be too.

Desire is not bad. Finding out where the desire will lead you can be a bit tricky, but if you hand it fully to Him, the path is fulfilling and brilliant.

May your every moment be filled with desire and passion. May you set your feet towards the Author and Perfecter of your faith. :)

Sunbeams and Unicorn farts

24 Jesus presented another parable to them, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field. 25 But while his men were sleeping, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, and went away. 26 But when the wheat sprouted and bore grain, then the tares became evident also. 27 The slaves of the landowner came and said to him, ‘Sir, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have tares?’ 28 And he said to them, ‘An enemy has done this!’ The slaves said to him, ‘Do you want us, then, to go and gather them up?’ 29 But he said, ‘No; for while you are gathering up the tares, you may uproot the wheat with them. 30 Allow both to grow together until the harvest; and in the time of the harvest I will say to the reapers, “First gather up the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them up; but gather the wheat into my barn.”’”

Jesus was very countercultural. He was Jewish. Israel was under Roman occupation. Talk about a lot of rules!!

We have a lot of rules today too. Government rules, cultural rules, society rules. Not to mention Christian behavior rules! Trying to understand what Jesus came to do is like teaching a toddler how to talk quietly in public. :)

The Jewish faith was about behavior and obedience. If they did what God told them to do, He would bless them. If they didn't, He allowed surrounding nations to subdue them. On one hand it was a reward culture, on the other hand a punishment culture.

Life with Jesus is totally different, but we can't assume that the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament are disparate Gods. He is the same. God wanted us to see that we can't do things our way to get to Him because no one can be holy in themselves.

Before Jesus, life was about rules and obedience. With Jesus, life is about relationship and growth. We can't please God by following rules; we please Him by going after His heart. When we follow His heart, the right fruit grows automatically.

The Church has a really hard time with this. We struggle with weakness, with sin and failure. As if the blood of Jesus is supposed to make us magically better, and afterwards its just sunbeams and unicorn farts. ;) The blood of Jesus satisfies the tragedy of Adam's sin and makes it possible to have relationship with God as He originally intended. But it doesn't make you think perfectly or act perfectly.

Our primary responsibility is to love God and love each other. Most of us have no idea what that looks like. We think it's about doing the right things, serving, saying kind things, and confronting sin. It really isn't. It's about learning to lean close to Him, and then do what we see Him doing and say what we see Him saying. Like Jesus.

I grew up in a family and a church culture that was hyper afraid of encouragement. Don't praise too much…you don't want so and so to get a big head! As if the automatic fruit of encouragement was pride.

I believe that pride is our solution for not knowing who and Whose we are. We are desperate for identity, desperate for praise, desperate to find out we are special. Encouragement, or prophecy, is pulling out the gold in each person. We are all made in His image. None of us are alike. What voice do we want each other to be hearing, the one that tells them they are amazing because of who and Whose they are, or the Enemy's voice?

The Enemy communicates two lies. You are not good enough no matter how much you try, or, if you try hard enough you can be good enough. Neither is what God says about us.

It's time for the lovers of Jesus to start loving. Speak the good you see in others. Throw a party! Be God's cheerleader! People are desperate to hear His voice.

I posted the parable of the wheat and the tares because this is what Jesus is talking about. Criticism and rules before being rooted in His love will just stunt growth or uproot a person entirely. The Holy Spirit really is the best Teacher, and we can't be afraid that encouragement will excuse sin. Just love, and He will begin pruning when the heart is established in Him. :D

The Little Tree

Once there was a little tree in a garden.  It had been planted years ago by the Gardener Himself, Who then gave the responsibility of care taking to  His apprentice gardeners.

The little tree was rarely without attention. The apprentices had great ideas about gardening, and as soon as it had branches the size of your pinky, stretched the little tree's branches upwards and out and tied them to stakes for stability. The little tree continued to grow, but it's branches twisted and writhed around the stakes, and the fruit it bore was bitter.

One day the Gardener visited the little tree. What He saw made His heart very sad. It was very small and sickly, it's leaves yellowed and withered, and it's fruit diseased. "What happened to you, little tree?" He asked. Two great, sparkling tears fell from His cheeks and splashed onto its leaves.

The little tree shuddered from agony and joy. It had been so concerned with it's pain it barely heard the Gardener's voice, but oh, it felt His tears. They burned, hot and deep.

The Gardener began to dig. All around the base of the tree He dug. Until finally, the little tree's roots were exposed. "I see the problem." He said. He clipped and pulled; stretching the root bound tree apart. He found little grubs and killed them. Then He began to replace the earth around it; gave it fertilizer and water. All the while, He spoke.

"I know the plans I have for you, little tree. Plans to grow you. Plans to challenge you. I have a beautiful future in mind; I love you. Life has been hard, so just rest. Rest."

The little tree ached and wept. It's roots had been exposed. They had been cut and pulled and stretched. Everything had been brought to light, and the pain was dreadful. But the little tree also felt something else.

Hope.

Time passed and the tree was obedient. It rested. Then something happened; something altogether amazing. What had looked like death not long before now had signs of life. New roots dug deeper, new branches stretched higher. The leaves grew big and green. And then the most splendid thing happened; it flowered.

The care takers were amazed. "What happened to you, little tree?" They began to study the tree. As the little tree began to bear fruit, the care takers examined the fruit. Some they recognized. "This is marvelous!", they rejoiced. "Well done, little tree!" But some they did not recognize. "What is it?", They asked. "Is it good for food?" So they tasted it and then spit it out. "How awful!", they cried. The little tree shuddered. The caretakers began to prune again; selecting branches that bore sweet fruit to live, and cutting the branches that bore the offensive fruit. The little tree burned with shame.

The next day the Gardener approached and was aghast. "Little tree, what has happened?" The little tree quavered and cried, but soon the Gardener had heard it all. He quietly began to untie the stakes that still bound the branches and gently place His hand on it's trunk.

"Little tree, I designed your seed. In it I placed all my plans for you. My caretakers love me, but they have never seen you before. There is no other tree like you. My caretakers are amazing, but sometimes they only love the familiar."

As He removed the last stake, the little tree felt very strange. "Don't I need those?" It asked. The Gardener laughed softly. "No. Trust your roots; I have planted them in good soil. They will remind you Whose you are."

In time it grew into a mighty, sheltering tree. The Gardener guided his caretakers and gave them new wisdom. The mighty tree grew both sweet and bitter fruit; but when used together, would both cauterize and heal the most grievous wounds. Many found rest under its branches and on a quiet day, some would hear a song reverberating from deep within.

A song of rest, of hope. Of majesty.


Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans that I have for you, declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.

Revelation 22:2 On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.

Jeremiah 17:8 For he will be like a tree planted by the water, that extends its roots by a stream and will not fear when the heat comes; but its leaves will be green and it will not be anxious in a year of drought nor cease to yield fruit.