"If" by Rudyard Kipling

 

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And don't look too good, nor talk to wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master;
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Clearing Out the Cobwebs

I always tell the kids that it's OK to feel negative emotions, to be disappointed or angry or sad.  Such emotions are natural.  But I always tell them to never let those things grow big in their hearts and take over.  They can acknowledge those things and mourn or cry or talk or ask questions, and then through all that, they can find a way to get beyond the issue.  I tell them to guard their hearts, to guard their emotions, to guard their thoughts, to ask their heavenly Father and their brother/Savior/King Yahshua to help them stand guard.  I tell them that to harbor those negative things is to give them power, and that power can eventually grow so big as to take over inside them and make them feel worse; they can lead to bitterness, offense, unforgiveness, and an overall yucky feeling inside.  If someone hurts them, shame on that person.  But if they let it grow big inside them, shame on them.  That's no one else's fault but their own, which is the same for all of us.  All the sudden, perspective is gone, God's true reality is lost in the mess, and they could find themselves beholden to a lie.

It's all about perspective and walking that fine line between what's real and what's...real. 

Because we have before us what's real:  our experiences, good, bad, neutral.

We also have before us what's real:  the word and purpose and identity of Yahweh, Truth, always good, sometimes uncomfortable, never neutral.  He calls us higher, to come up here where our view is above the storm.

Yahweh's word, written in the Bible and spoken to you, is what's really real.  The spirit realm is real.  And if we get to know Him and His great love for us, His heart and purpose for us, we begin to understand something that often transcends our experience.  We then have the glory of walking out our life in a way that makes our experiences match His Truth.  For example, if your parents told you that you were never good enough, you might have that ingrained in your identity and might respond to a lot in life out of that feeling of lack.  But Yahweh sees worth in you.  Which is more real?  Your experience or His word?  Even though you feel your experience, it's a lie.  His word is all that matters.  Sometimes our experience is a lie, even though it's the one thing right in front of our faces. 

I have to laugh, because in my recent post about life's challenges, I got some replies that made me think I may have come off as pretty down.  I didn't mean to do that!  But it's OK.  I've read it a few more times and realize that some cobwebs did, in fact, creep in and muck up my perspective.  For instance, I am not often shell-shocked by the experience of being a mommy, even though I said that.  I am sometimes shell-shocked.  For sure.  It seems more often to me, because I'm used to having everything perfectly arranged and under control, and life is blissfully messy and spontaneous.  Truth is, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I could go on and on about personal stuff that is a-brewin' right now, but that's not important.  What's important is that life is always a-brewin', thank the Lord.  It's got mountains with glorious vistas, valleys with quicksand and desperation, oceans full of life and light over here but murky shadows over there.  That's all part of the adventure.  It's that way for us all.  The big question as you hike along your way is, who is your guide?

What voice do you trust to help you navigate your path, to tell you what's worthy of your attention?

[Insert a joke here about Justin Bieber that I decided to remove.  ;)]

So many voices want to crowd the others out and become big in your head, spreading out like cobwebs, causing confusion and distraction.  For prophetic people who are somewhat like radios with giant antennae and access to every station all at once, things can get really loud and full of static, and fast.  Someone said one of my sentences in the "challenge" post had 66 "and"s in it.  That's a lot of noise. 

Or, to sound cliche, merely being a part of our wonderful generation brings its noise from all the access to information and entertainment that we have.  Oh, we must guard our minds and our hearts.  So many voices.

To be proactive rather than reactive is a steady, willful choice.  To reach up and swipe away all the cobwebs is an act of liberty.  Maybe every one of them represents something on your radar that's even good or worthwhile, but if it's distracting and not for now, let it go.   

The cobwebs come down, the grating noises slowly die away, and the weight that tried to aggrandize itself is lifted like the inconsequential vapor it really is.  "My yoke is easy; My burden is light," He smiles.  Therein we are free to relax and smile back, "I love you!  I've come to do Your will!"  It all boils down to a relationship with the God of the mountains, the valleys, the oceans, the galaxies, the atoms, you.  To know Him, to know His voice, makes everything else so very small.

To close, here's an incredible and simple song that perfectly expresses my heart for this post, and it's been bubbling out of me all week.  My friend at church wrote it, and it is anointed and full of revelation. 

Your Word
(c) Misty Angelini 2010

In the quiet time, I am listening

I hear Your voice, calling me to go on

It's a refreshing wind, touching everything

Removing all that is not of You

And I lay down my dreams

I set aside all Your promises

I lay them at Your feet

And I listen for Your word

For You alone are my strength

You alone can lead me deeper

My passion lies in You

I live and die by Your word

And here's an ultra high-tech, squished-to-fit video if you want to take a listen:  :)

Have a happy day of lucid vision and peace in Him, and as always, thanks for stopping by.  :) 



The Goofiest Love

If in the last post we talked about the reality of life's challenges--and the greater reality that we've totally got this even when we don't have all the answers--well today we ought to relish some gushy stuff.  Hallmark wants us to, and I don't need much arm-twisting this Mother's Day to kiss the fool outta my babies.

I am totally gaga in love with them.

Mother's Day is usually all about what we do for them, but I can't help but be moved today by the profound impact they have on me, effervescent and curious and hilarious as they are. 

(Yahweh's kind of a sneaky one that way.) 

They also have an especially profound impact on my appearance...

And despite this hair, she's still smiling.  Who wouldn't be moved?

Happy Every Day to all you mothers!

I Have No Idea What I'm Doing

What on earth is going on??!!

From where I sit, a noticeable portion of me and my crowd are wading through what appears to be a constant deluge of challenge.  Complaining's of no use, so I'll avoid it at all cost, but something mighty fishy is going on!

Adelaide is almost three, and I keep putting off potty training her.  Levi was about three when he officially got it, and I don't put a lot of pressure on the process.  Obviously.  But now I know she's ready, and I am determined not to buy another package of diapers!  No pressure, right?  Today, I decided to put Adelaide in regular underwear so she'd feel when she went and then complain about it and start putting things together in her mind.  She peed about 4 times in the first hour and didn't say a word to me; I just discovered the puddle or her saggy, wet underwear.  The girl doesn't care.  Next approach.

Roxie is a mama's girl.  Levi and Adelaide were used to being passed off at church services to other people while Jed and I lead worship when they were only a few months old.  But with Roxie, I stepped down from that activity at Yahweh's leading.  So I held her constantly.  I nursed her for a year.  She. Loves. Her Mom.  They say that during this age, they have their favorite adult, and that adult is also the one on which they are the hardest, on which they unleash their greatest disdain and displeasure and need.  If I'm out of the room, Roxie will play contentedly and have fun.  If I walk through the room to get something, the little peach will start screaming at me relentlessly to pick her up.  Then she'll fuss about the other things that aren't right, whatever those are, because she doesn't speak English yet.  She just started walking, and she loves to climb, so when I'm not holding her, I pretty much follow her around anxiously.  She is the sweetest thing, but this bit she's practicing on me is nothing short of emotional terrorism, and I'm a blubbering mess.  Well, I was.  Now, after a conversation this afternoon with another grown-up, I'm realizing I've been totally played by the most classic of wee manipulations.  Roxie, I'm on to you, little peanut dollface.

Levi is magnificent.  He is curious, inventive, smart, and sensitive.  He is so sensitive.  Because he is older, and so capable that I often find myself treating him as older than he is, and because the girls require so much of my, well, everything--attention, mental focus, patience, deep breathing, creative magic-working, emotional energy, physical presence--when the girls go down for a nap, I either want to space out or I have grown-up work that needs my attention.  And my son, who craves quality attention, sometimes doesn't get it because it's all going to the girls.  And my heart breaks.  And he does get one-on-one attention, especially with homeschooling, and it's good for kids to grow up realizing they have to share with others and incorporate their identities and expectations into the family, but there are those moments when it transcends all that, and I'm beat, and he is gracious, and I love him.

My heart cries out to be the very best mommy, to represent Yahweh accurately, to expose them to all kinds of greatness in the world and in the spirit.  But here's a little secret. 

I have no idea what I'm doing. 

This is especially difficult, because I'm good at everything. *cough*  It's no indication of my character or worth as a human being; it's just one of the strengths/weaknesses/flaws/quirks/facts about me and my personality.  It's just a phrase, too, because there's plenty I'm not good at.  <--Like reworking every sentence that ends in a preposition.  But because my experience has been a proclivity to understand situations and patterns and information and therefore to "get" stuff, I am really in a jam.  Because in what I consider to be my most important job, rearing these sweetlings that are a treasure from God, I am pretty shell-shocked most of the time. 

I am also not a great homemaker.  It's true.  So true.  I mean, we have a home.  It is homey and ecclectic, and it is ours, and we are cozy here.  But it is not spotless, and my battle with clutter is ongoing.  I need someone to lay hands on me and impart some kinda mystery ability, 'cause I ain't got it.  It has never been Priority 1, but I'm getting better.  I ask Yahweh to please help me care about it more, because sometimes I just don't care about all that stuff the way I feel I should.  I care so much about other things, just not that as much.  Anyway, I climb uphill on that one as well.  

Then there's the rest of life: the people we love, our purpose on the grander scale, our relationship with God, making ends meet financially, demonstrating to our kids the principles that matter in the everyday, getting outside, raging against the machine, and other such stuff.

Then there's the other other stuff: mail, dirty floors, grocery trips, selling stuff, getting to the post office, leftovers, spills, pee puddles, kids crying, crying, crying, be it of the screeching kind or the deeper, hurt sobs, and this little list of the mundane could fill pages if I kept going. 

At freshman orientation at Boston University, my welcoming faculty counselor read my essay and looked up with raised eyebrows.  "Are you sure you don't want to be a philosophy major?" he inquired.  There was no way I was letting staff at Boston University teach me philosophy; this much I knew.  No, I was Poli. Sci. all the way.  But he said it, because I philosophize.  I have a lot of stuff going on in my head.  Always. 

I think about feeding my family real food and what I must do to learn more about that and how to do it economically and how to find the time to research it all and uplifting the vision of Yahweh and my apostle for New England and even the world and keeping my kids safe from harm when we're walking the park in our small town where creepy little groups come out right after dinnertime and they're probably fine but I am on red alert that whole stroll because I'm ready to mangle anyone who does anything to my kids and about type1 diabetes and how it's very different from type 2 and people say, "Is that the scary one?" and I have to put my hand around Levi's shoulder as I say, "Not to us," and how we can beat this thing that can be beaten even though a bunch of thugs say it's incurable and how I fight every day, every meal for his life, and go on like it's not happening inside me and how media is a great big crock of mularkey and needs Kingdom people to work hard and qualify themselves and get in that place of authority and also in education and health and politics and every high place that influences the lives of the masses so that rightness can flow freely and how I want to adopt every child in need on the whole face of the planet and how I want Jed to have his own, fully equipped studio because his heart beats for it and he is passionate about it and he is anointed for it and masterful at it and called to it and how I have song lyrics and melodies bouncing around inside me looking for a piece of paper upon which they can rest so that they can then soar out into the atmosphere and how I wish I had time to write them and how it's the exact same with my book that plugs along in fits and spurts but I cannot let it die because it wants to live and how the fire of Yahweh and His truth burn in me and how I see my friends go through struggles of their own and I pray my face off for their victory because sometimes I see the behind the scenes spiritual aspects and I fight, fight, fight, because I am a fighter and I will go to bat for the Body and I intercede and direct traffic in the spirit realm and how I want my kids' homeschool education to be stellar and I want all my kids' hearts to beat for Yahweh and to love truth, justice, life, kindness, while also being violent for those things and how I can hardly stand to see or read anything relating to abortion and how I want my kids to have good, rich memories of a warm, thoughtful, smart mom who guided and loved them and always had her face set to Yahweh and His word and who fought for them and lived for them and also showed them they were not the center of all things so that they could be grounded and refreshed and off-the-hook on that count and how I want to lift Jed's arms and show him how desperately I admire him and to keep little toys and random articles of clothing off the floor and how I know in 2 or 3 years I'll look back on these days that seemed just moments ago and reflect fondly on all the sweetness and loveliness and hilariousness of having ones so small and so demanding and so loving and how right this second when I just need to catch my breath I have to fight the wrong thought that wants to make me feel guilty.  For I don't remember what.

I've never considered myself high-strung.  But right now, I'm seeing challenge all around me (and in my own life that's not just related to child-rearing), exacerbated by the sweet challenge of the everyday, especially with kids so little.  To the degree that it's a push from the enemy; that is, the dark side, Satan's minions, what have you; it's been what we've called a war of attrition.  A constant, incessant pushing, pushing, pushing.  Sometimes you're having some hard days, and you can't pinpoint just exactly why it's so crunchy, but man, is it ever crunchy.  You know something's up.  Some people say something's in the air or there must be a full moon.  Maybe.  But sometimes you're under a little attack.  And when you've set yourself for the ultimate purpose of establishing the Kingdom of God and eradicating the holds of sin and death and, there they are, those minions again, well, they get scared of you and try to stop you in one form or another.  It's usually in your thoughts.  So guard those.  With your life.  'Cuz those little buggers are weaklings, but they can spin a yarn.

So I've never considered myself high-strung, but I've had to address stress in my life lately.  And with aaaaaaaaall that and more going on in my head and heart, I begin to feel like that proverbial rubberband that's streeeeeeeeeeeetched to its eeevvveeeerrrr-lloooooovvvvviiinnnnnnng limit, so close to snapping. 

If I have seemed at any point to any of you to be someone who has it all together, I do not.  I am strong.  And my faith in Yahweh is rock solid.  But that is my cornerstone.  I know who has the answers, and I'm eternally grateful.  And I believe what He says about me and allow it to make me stronger and better because of His presence in me.  But it is only because of His presence in me.  Otherwise, I'd surely have been found in some ditch years ago.  But sometimes I lose my temper and realize I'll have to spend the rest of the day saying however many true and gloriously uplifting things to the kids to undo whatever damage I surely caused them when I did snap.  No, I'm not a shrink.  Yes, I believe our words matter.  So yes, I'm serious; I go out of my way to encourage them to high heaven and back, above and beyond my normal affectations, when I have spoken to them in a way that I know in my spirit is wrong. 

But it's not lost on me that a significant number of people are fighting significant battles, some deeply personal.  I am too.  And it's no coincidence, and guess what?  We've already won, come what may.  This is how you're used to me talking--about rising up.  I felt down in my gut that since so many are going through things, maybe it might be nice to see another layer of my life that shows that we all go through storms.  Most of the time you hear from me about crossing and staying the course and reaching the other side, with little mention of the storm.  But, dude, trust me.  I know enough of storms.  And sometimes they're crazy, and I have no idea what's going on.  But that's OK.  I don't have to know; sometimes it's when we're really out there on a limb and beyond our understanding that we really break through into the good stuff that only comes from Him.  And sometimes I feel the weight of little eyes on me to see how we'll come through.  And I turn my eyes to Yahweh, and say, "Come on, babies, let's worship."  I cry to Yahweh for help, for guidance, and He most certainly gives it.  And I decide to keep sailing.  I decide to keep standing.  I decide to keep pushing. 

I decide to lean into the storm and speak words of fire, words of my God from the direction only He could give, for I am His daughter, and I give the charge, "PEACE!  BE STILL!"  And I manage my craft and steer until we've lighted safely ashore by the grace of God.  Heart, hope, passion, yearnings; they are all unto Him. 

And there it is!  Aaahhh... Sweet rest in Him.  May that be your experience and anchor no matter how your storm is raging.  Light and goodness triumph.  They must.  :)

When Demons Crave Attention, and We Keep Our Gaze on Yahweh, and They Run Crying Back to Hell

We were in church, and the man was just writhing all over the floor.  Every wiry muscle was tensed and stringy under his taut skin, and his face grimaced in rage and pain.  He was baring his teeth, growling and screeching.  Did I mention we were in church?

I was standing in front of a microphone up front with the rest of the band, pouring out my heart, helping to lead our time of praise and edification. 

It was really weird.  I know the demonic is real and am not surprised by how weird they are, but it's so seldom that they raise such a ridiculous ruckus in our services that it sort of surprised me.

But here's one thing I love about my apostle.  Just listen to how he handled it.

Sometimes with spirit-filled believers where there tends to be a degree of revelation about and familiarity with spiritual warfare, there can be a tendency for everyone to hone in on that thing and go after it ferociously till it's gone.  It's an opportunity for us to demonstrate our God's might and victory and how He abides in us.  It's an opportunity for us to test out what we believe.  But it's also an opportunity for the demonic to create a scene and be a giant, dramatic distraction:  "Pay attention to ME!!"

But in this case, instead of allowing it to create that giant, dramatic distraction, my apostle very calmly, and with kingly resolve, summoned a couple of pastors and leaders in the church and instructed them to remove the man to a church office just a few yards away and handle the demon privately. 

The Calm Voice of Authority

He could have gone right down into the fray and commanded that thing then and there.  He's certainly dealt with the demonic plenty of times.  But what he did and said instead have spoken to me all these years later.

First, he trusted the job to some of the other men.  He didn't treat the demon like a formidable enemy that needed him to drop everything and go after it, because it isn't.  But he did see those men as mighty, capable sons of God, because they are.  He knew he could just say the word and move on.

Second, here's what he said:  "I have a specific word to deliver today and specific instructions of what's on Yahweh's heart and what He wants ministered here.  I will not allow some ridiculous demon to come in and get us off course.  We'll handle it privately so we can get on with Kingdom business out here."

So the men hauled the demonized man to the office and worked on his behalf.  I say "hauled" not because they were callous about it, but with all his protestations and flailing, it was quite the ordeal.  Once back there, they told the demon to get lost, and it did.  They set out to free that man of the onslaught of oppression, and they did.

Meanwhile, we moved on with church and gained ground and rejoiced. 

Holy Spirit asked,

"Why are you singing to them?"

Apostle sometimes tells us a story about his days under his own apostle in Panama City, FL, where he was the youth and children's pastor.  One day during a powerful youth service, they were singing passionately a song, telling demons and dark spirits that they were pushing them back.  Everyone was all fired up and really into it when Apostle heard Holy Spirit say, "Why are you singing to them?"

And he thought for a second and realized that was a very good question.  So now he is very careful to teach us not to get our gaze so far off on what the devil is doing when all we need to do is keep our gaze steadily fixed on the very real work our God is doing.  Beating darkness is only accomplished through shining a light.

I will probably be writing more about my apostle and the apostolic in days to come, because I love him and it's really important.  Even in spiritual warfare, which is odd and exciting and just like stories in the Bible, he is steady and listening for Yahweh's direction in that moment, rather than behaving defensively as a reaction.  Some of us can get so giddy with our authority in God that we then get giddy to wield it, which is not totally wrong, but then we might lose focus and become enamored with the demonic, always trying to discern what they're doing so we can head them off.

But who really cares what they're doing?  They're lawless, clueless, and scared.  If Yahweh wants to tell you what's going on with them so that you have direction or discernment, then listen.  But one thing I love about my apostle is demonstrated in this little post of mine. 

He cares what Yahweh's doing.  That's always been and always will be all that counts for anything, and it has given me life-sustaining perspective and strength in the highs and lows and strangeness and normalcy of this wondrous, crazy privilege of life.