Yahshua paid a mighty price for my life. I want to understand the fullness of what He did and what it was intended to do for the sons of Yahweh. I don't want to miss one ounce of it. I cannot go halfway in this reality. I cannot give half. I cannot pay it lip service on certain occasions only to forget it as I go about my daily life.
The Kingdom of Yahweh is! And He does not want my sacrifices! He wants my passionate all, my praise, my heart, me. My will.
It is no sacrifice to know You, to love You, Yahweh.
He does not label us as sinners if we've been made new in Him. So if you are a believer who still identifies yourself as a sinner, stop! And come into agreement with His identity concerning you. You are His, created in His image, to look in the mirror and see the visage of Christ, clothed in His righteousness!
He purchased my freedom and with that, I boldly enter the throne room of my God. I take my seat at the feast He has laid out before me. I own the identity of a son: the robe, the crown, the scepter that He's given me.
This is not rhetoric, theology, philosophy, or a Bible class. This is what happens when we immerse ourselves in Him, and everything else, including our beliefs, must bow before Him!
Holy Spirit, I make no apologies for being completely yielded to you. Holy Spirit, flow in my life, in my children's lives! I receive from You change, maturity, understanding, discernment, life, love, Truth beyond all measure.
You are worthy of my praise, Yahweh, and to You I give it unabashedly! I am no longer identified as a sinner who needs a Savior. Oh, that so many in Your church would gain this understanding. Today I am a daughter joined to my King. And the King has work for us to do in His Kingdom. Today. Here. Now. We must put our authority into action.
I enter His presence and purpose with joy, because I can. Because He made a way. And to do anything less would be such a waste!
Bless Your church, Father, to know Your heart and Your plan in this earth.
Bless You, Yahweh, with all that I am, and may Your name be great in Your earth.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
You Just Think You Like Angry Birds
A delightful evidence of spring in Vermont is the first sighting of the lovely Redwing Blackbird. Isn't it beautiful?
Well, don't be fooled. These horrible birds are angry. And territorial. And domineering. And, well, here's a little story about why they scare the living daylights outta me.
A few months after I had Levi, the weather warmed and I finally got back into running. I hit the country trail that paralleled the two-lane highway and slowly increased my pace, starting to work up a sweat. The weather was perfection in the upper 70s, and the landscape had really greened up. I was enjoying the solitude and the beauty and the time alone with Yahweh who, for His own amusement I am certain, did NOT warn me of what was about to happen.
Of all things, nature is something I appreciate and respect greatly, and here was this bird that I was happy to bless and appreciate and leave alone coming after me like a shark after blood. As a new mom myself, I just knew there must be a nest of babies close by and that I had spooked the mother. So what did I do? I began sprinting, top-speed away from the angry bird, shouting, yes SHOUTING, that I was not interested in her babies and that I was a safe place.
"I'M A SAFE PLACE!" Feet pounding the gravel. "I LOVE YOU, MOMMY BIRD!" Pound, pound, gasp, gasp. "I WISH YOU NO HARM AND BLESS YOUR BABIES ALL TO LIVE LONG, SUCCESSFUL LIVES!"
Angry dive-bomb for my head.
The bird took a few more shots then went back to the top of a tree back where the assault had started behind me. I was glad she understood English and trusted me, then I slowed down my pace and just laughed.
That's when I heard her from behind me: "ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!"
"Whatever, crazy bird! I get it, OK?" I thought.
Then I heard from a tree ahead of me an eerily similar echo: "ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!" just before another Redwing Blackbird from the tree ahead of me sling-shot himself straight from his branch and straight for my head. These birds were organized! I was half a mile from my car out in the middle of nowhere and under attack. I found a stick on the ground and waved it up in the air, sprinting, flailing, shouting. After I passed that bird's tree, and he felt he'd done enough intimidating with swoop after swoop after swoop, me gyrating and dodging and tripping over myself, he went back to his perch that was now behind me.
"You've got to be joking," I thought, heart racing, white knuckles still clutched around the stick, eyes darting around in paranoia. I stopped to catch my breath when I heard it again.
Angry Bird Number Two behind me began to release the staccato "ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!"
I looked back unable to comprehend why my sunny day run was turning into an Alfred Hitchcock film then warily looked ahead to the next cluster of trees. My worst fears were realized.
A third Redwing Blackbird (I cannot make this stuff up) from the trees ahead of me replied: "ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!" just before engaging in the bullet flight right for me.
I was being targeted, and I knew not why, but I'd never been a personal witness to nature acting up in this way. He swooped down, then back up, then circled just above me, clacking, "ACK! ACK! ACK!" Angry Bird Number Three was in it for the kill, I could tell. I didn't know if I should run forward...but no, I was going to have to go back to my car at some point. So I made a decision.
I turned around to face these demonic birds like a real woman. I found two small branches about 18 inches long and an inch and a half thick. I took one in each fist. Then I took off running at top speed, waving the sticks overhead as crazily as I could to fend off the attacks. The birds descended and swooped and "ACKed" at me, each taking their turn as I entered their zone. I sprinted and spluttered and gasped for air and waved the sticks in the air as though my life depended on it. I believe to this day that it did. They would have pecked me to death.
I finally reached what I considered to be the outer boundary of Angry Bird Number One's territory, and lo, he took one last swoop then landed on a telephone wire just behind me and "ACKed" me into a world of shame. He was laughing. He was mocking. When I knew they'd won and were now content to have humiliated and defeated me and continue on with their day, I stopped to reacquaint myself with oxygen. Numerous vehicles had gone by during the whole charade, and it must've been a jolly good laugh for all those clever drivers who were safe in their cars and didn't stop to offer assistance.
But clearly I was some crazy woman on the loose from their vantage point, so why would they?
I never ran on that trail again. To my everlasting shame. But I did learn a valuable lesson. All those Disney movies in which the characters are animals with complex lives that get interrupted by human activity are not fiction.
On that day, I traveled to a place where birds ruled and humans were not welcome, and I can say from actual experience that this Angry Bird business is no game. Except to them. To them, it's The Hunger Games. If you ever find yourself entering their arena, all I can say to help you is, "May the odds be ever in your favor." And run for your life.
Well, don't be fooled. These horrible birds are angry. And territorial. And domineering. And, well, here's a little story about why they scare the living daylights outta me.
A few months after I had Levi, the weather warmed and I finally got back into running. I hit the country trail that paralleled the two-lane highway and slowly increased my pace, starting to work up a sweat. The weather was perfection in the upper 70s, and the landscape had really greened up. I was enjoying the solitude and the beauty and the time alone with Yahweh who, for His own amusement I am certain, did NOT warn me of what was about to happen.
A sudden swoosh blew forcefully just at the back of my head like a swift gust of air. I turned around to see nothing. Facing forward again to continue my run, though, I figured it out. Up ahead of me, dive-bombing like an arrow directly for my face, with the resolve of a Kamikaze pilot and no indication of letting up, was a Redwing Blackbird. I darted to the side and held my hands up over my ducked head. He swooshed just above my head, zoomed back up for some altitude, turned back towards me, and started his angry attack again.
Of all things, nature is something I appreciate and respect greatly, and here was this bird that I was happy to bless and appreciate and leave alone coming after me like a shark after blood. As a new mom myself, I just knew there must be a nest of babies close by and that I had spooked the mother. So what did I do? I began sprinting, top-speed away from the angry bird, shouting, yes SHOUTING, that I was not interested in her babies and that I was a safe place.
"I'M A SAFE PLACE!" Feet pounding the gravel. "I LOVE YOU, MOMMY BIRD!" Pound, pound, gasp, gasp. "I WISH YOU NO HARM AND BLESS YOUR BABIES ALL TO LIVE LONG, SUCCESSFUL LIVES!"
Angry dive-bomb for my head.
The bird took a few more shots then went back to the top of a tree back where the assault had started behind me. I was glad she understood English and trusted me, then I slowed down my pace and just laughed.
 |
| Watch your back, dude! I'm not the only victim: http://faceintheblue.wordpress.com/ 2009/11/27/redwing/ |
That's when I heard her from behind me: "ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!"
"Whatever, crazy bird! I get it, OK?" I thought.
Then I heard from a tree ahead of me an eerily similar echo: "ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!" just before another Redwing Blackbird from the tree ahead of me sling-shot himself straight from his branch and straight for my head. These birds were organized! I was half a mile from my car out in the middle of nowhere and under attack. I found a stick on the ground and waved it up in the air, sprinting, flailing, shouting. After I passed that bird's tree, and he felt he'd done enough intimidating with swoop after swoop after swoop, me gyrating and dodging and tripping over myself, he went back to his perch that was now behind me.
"You've got to be joking," I thought, heart racing, white knuckles still clutched around the stick, eyes darting around in paranoia. I stopped to catch my breath when I heard it again.
Angry Bird Number Two behind me began to release the staccato "ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!"
I looked back unable to comprehend why my sunny day run was turning into an Alfred Hitchcock film then warily looked ahead to the next cluster of trees. My worst fears were realized.
A third Redwing Blackbird (I cannot make this stuff up) from the trees ahead of me replied: "ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!" just before engaging in the bullet flight right for me.
I was being targeted, and I knew not why, but I'd never been a personal witness to nature acting up in this way. He swooped down, then back up, then circled just above me, clacking, "ACK! ACK! ACK!" Angry Bird Number Three was in it for the kill, I could tell. I didn't know if I should run forward...but no, I was going to have to go back to my car at some point. So I made a decision.
I finally reached what I considered to be the outer boundary of Angry Bird Number One's territory, and lo, he took one last swoop then landed on a telephone wire just behind me and "ACKed" me into a world of shame. He was laughing. He was mocking. When I knew they'd won and were now content to have humiliated and defeated me and continue on with their day, I stopped to reacquaint myself with oxygen. Numerous vehicles had gone by during the whole charade, and it must've been a jolly good laugh for all those clever drivers who were safe in their cars and didn't stop to offer assistance.
But clearly I was some crazy woman on the loose from their vantage point, so why would they?
I never ran on that trail again. To my everlasting shame. But I did learn a valuable lesson. All those Disney movies in which the characters are animals with complex lives that get interrupted by human activity are not fiction.
On that day, I traveled to a place where birds ruled and humans were not welcome, and I can say from actual experience that this Angry Bird business is no game. Except to them. To them, it's The Hunger Games. If you ever find yourself entering their arena, all I can say to help you is, "May the odds be ever in your favor." And run for your life.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Adieu, 2011-How Shall Thine Memory Linger?
Ah, but lo! If I peer deeper, I make out more than mere challenge. And so I ask again: how shall I remember thee? And how shall I answer when you're recalled in the curious questioning of my children?
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| Fine art by Joseph Huber, http://www.josephhuberart.com /2011/10/weary-traveler-fine-art-print. html |
Shall I take on the buckled despondence of the road-worn traveler and quietly close the door on you, wiping your dust off my feet, and sighing, "Good riddance," as others who saw your challenge shall choose to do? Shall I toss you away so carelessly as if your sunshine, your changing leaves, your life lessons, your birthday celebrations, your aspirations, failures, and successes were for naught?
the faithfulness of my mighty, loving God.
Here I stand, at your closing and passing, grateful to stand. I celebrate the air I breathe and every moment of each of your 365 days that provided me with one more opportunity to...live.
How, then, shall I remember thee to mine children, 2011? How then shall I capture thee in mine own memories?
You, 2011, are Victory. You are another year we embraced, we lived, we drained, and in so doing, we changed into greater newness, greater versions of ourselves. Wisdom rose as your pendulum swung. Lessons triumphed as your sand filled the lower orb of your hourglass.
Therefore, I shall not place trial on any pedestal where its victory ought shine. I shall not rob Yahweh of the glory that is due Him. I shall not cast off all your treasure merely because it shared the same earth's revolution as your adversity.
My children shall hear your tales and be emboldened with the reality that at your closing, you were the best year yet, as we moved from glory to glory. My children shall recall from my memories and stories that you, 2011, were one more glowing opportunity for Yahweh to show Himself faithful, strong, loving, and mighty. You were one more opportunity for twinkling birthday candles, first steps and words, excited anticipation, wedding dances, new music, new vision, and broadened revelation.
As I bid you adieu, 2011, I turn now to my friends reading this to wish a Happy New Year to you and yours. May you especially recall all the happiness, simple and grand, that this past year has bestowed, and step into 2012 with a knowing grin and a twinkle in your eye.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Mr. Jones and Me
Searching for a car to buy is weird. You're sort of comparing apples and oranges with each one, because the pros and cons over here might be totally different than the pros and cons over there, so which pros and cons matter most? But then it starts to get fun.
I'm pretty proud of Jed and myself, because we've already gotten into negotiations for two different cars, and we are Negotiation Royalty! I wrote a little while ago about how we want to be really wise and circumspect when we make this new purchase. We don't want to be swayed by impulse, by "coolness," by what the Joneses are doing, or definitely by what amount of debt we could squeeze ourselves into and still get by. We are the Joneses, and we'll decide what's best for us based on wisdom, and we do not want any unnecessary debt. ANY.
The first car is this one, a Chrysler Town and Country (read: minivan), and sorry the picture's terrible:
So, we sat down to make a deal with this guy, George, and he was young and possibly still learning the ropes with this whole car sales thing. We want to trade our Impala for whatever we get, and it's an awesome, fully loaded car the trade-in value of which we're fully aware from the Kelley Blue Book people. So when George told us what he'd give us for it, I told him that was unacceptable and that I was not in love with his van. He needed to do better, because Kelley Blue Book told us we could get so many dollars.
"Well, there's your problem right there," George pointed out to me.
I'll pause here to give you some helpful information. Of all the pregnancy moods I could've been in, I was not in a jovial or weepy or emotional mood. I was in a no-nonsense mood. I was not desperate to get a new car for all my precious cargo, as most salesmen would likely have assumed upon seeing my globe of a stomach precede the rest of me through the door. On the contrary, I was ready to hold on to our money until someone bent over backwards for us. But George told me I had a problem. Poor George.
One more helpful point: I asked Jed if we could play "good cop, bad cop" with these guys, and could I please, please, please be the bad cop. Suffice it to say, I don't think George was quite prepared.
Jed said there was only one moment when he almost hopped over the desk to sit with George and defend him, but he assures me the rest of the time I was friendly enough, though firm. It had something to do with the extended warranty, I don't know.
But George told me about the Kelley Blue Book thing that that was my problem right there, listening to Kelley Blue Book. They there at the dealership go through N.A.D.A. to get their quotes, because that's what the banks use, yada yada yada. And N.A.D.A. gave them a quote that was two grand less than ours. Like I said, unacceptable.
So after I punished him ever so slightly for telling me I had a problem at all, he did the whole Salesman-Rides-A-Merry-Go-Round routine where he kept going "to the back," then coming back with "OK! Well, we can knock another $243.17 off this price!!!! That is THE BEST I can do," just like he said every other time. Though it was slightly exhausting to watch, it was most humorous. Every time, we were like, "Well, you know what we can do, and that's not it, so....no."
To which George retorted, "OK, well what? If I got that monthly payment down to whatever-amount, would THAT make you happy?" Poor George. After I punished him ever so slightly for that attitude, he went back to the drawing board.
Honestly, the final deal was a great deal for some family, just not for ours. And despite our most valiant efforts at repeating and clarifying for him what we were able to do, and him continuing to come back with something different but equally NOT what we could do, we finally ended George's agony and reached a stalemate. Because the deal was decent, he was dumbfounded. About the proposed monthly payments, he almost whined, "I mean, come on, it's not like it's $600 dollars a month!"
You see, George is used to seeing people fall in love with cars, get emotionally involved in the negotiations, then see George return from "the back" with "the greatest deal ever," and see people thank him for coming down on the price so much, figure out a way in their minds to justify that little monthly payment they hadn't intended to adopt, and sign on the dotted line. Most people George sees love debt. They're glad for that little bit of indebtedness to walk out the door with that great deal on that car.
But somehow, Jed and I got this revelation that there are plenty of cars out there to choose from. And we are not desperate for anything even if we will have to finagle a little with what we have once Roxie comes, if she comes before we can find what works for us. We are in every way ready, willing, and able to hold our line.
So we walked out. George was a mess, and he called Jed about 12 times the next day to tell him another couple was taking it for a test drive, to tell him maybe he could work something else out, to ask him if we'd be stopping back by...
Meanwhile, we found another car that I was out test driving that next day while George was calling Jed. This one we like even more. It's a Chrysler Pacifica and is a better price to boot:
When Jed told George I was out driving another car we liked, George really went into overdrive. When Jed also told George that we researched the trade-in value of the Impala with N.A.D.A. and came back with a better quote than the one from the Kelley Blue Book people, George really changed his tune and came back with an offer very close to what we want.
So now, with the Pacifica people, we told them we'd like to try and work something out, but their salesguys are on vacation till Monday, so we'll have to wait and see. Jed's sending in the big guns all by myself to work this one out, and after the George Incident, I think Jed feels pretty confident I'll do an OK job. The guy helping me with my test drive must have been just an office manager or something, because I walked in and told him we were interested and this is what we wanted, and he just said, "Yeah, I don't know why that wouldn't work out. Sounds like a great deal!" When I checked in with him later, he reported that he'd talked to the salesguy on vacation who nearly panicked at the thought of settling so easily. He came back with his usual jabber about what they could actually do, so I'm gearing up for a good time with him Monday morning.
So we "Joneses" apparently know exactly what we want, and meanwhile we still have George salivating on the sidelines.
Poor George.
I'm pretty proud of Jed and myself, because we've already gotten into negotiations for two different cars, and we are Negotiation Royalty! I wrote a little while ago about how we want to be really wise and circumspect when we make this new purchase. We don't want to be swayed by impulse, by "coolness," by what the Joneses are doing, or definitely by what amount of debt we could squeeze ourselves into and still get by. We are the Joneses, and we'll decide what's best for us based on wisdom, and we do not want any unnecessary debt. ANY.
The first car is this one, a Chrysler Town and Country (read: minivan), and sorry the picture's terrible:
"Well, there's your problem right there," George pointed out to me.
I'll pause here to give you some helpful information. Of all the pregnancy moods I could've been in, I was not in a jovial or weepy or emotional mood. I was in a no-nonsense mood. I was not desperate to get a new car for all my precious cargo, as most salesmen would likely have assumed upon seeing my globe of a stomach precede the rest of me through the door. On the contrary, I was ready to hold on to our money until someone bent over backwards for us. But George told me I had a problem. Poor George.
One more helpful point: I asked Jed if we could play "good cop, bad cop" with these guys, and could I please, please, please be the bad cop. Suffice it to say, I don't think George was quite prepared.
Jed said there was only one moment when he almost hopped over the desk to sit with George and defend him, but he assures me the rest of the time I was friendly enough, though firm. It had something to do with the extended warranty, I don't know.
But George told me about the Kelley Blue Book thing that that was my problem right there, listening to Kelley Blue Book. They there at the dealership go through N.A.D.A. to get their quotes, because that's what the banks use, yada yada yada. And N.A.D.A. gave them a quote that was two grand less than ours. Like I said, unacceptable.
So after I punished him ever so slightly for telling me I had a problem at all, he did the whole Salesman-Rides-A-Merry-Go-Round routine where he kept going "to the back," then coming back with "OK! Well, we can knock another $243.17 off this price!!!! That is THE BEST I can do," just like he said every other time. Though it was slightly exhausting to watch, it was most humorous. Every time, we were like, "Well, you know what we can do, and that's not it, so....no."
To which George retorted, "OK, well what? If I got that monthly payment down to whatever-amount, would THAT make you happy?" Poor George. After I punished him ever so slightly for that attitude, he went back to the drawing board.
Honestly, the final deal was a great deal for some family, just not for ours. And despite our most valiant efforts at repeating and clarifying for him what we were able to do, and him continuing to come back with something different but equally NOT what we could do, we finally ended George's agony and reached a stalemate. Because the deal was decent, he was dumbfounded. About the proposed monthly payments, he almost whined, "I mean, come on, it's not like it's $600 dollars a month!"
You see, George is used to seeing people fall in love with cars, get emotionally involved in the negotiations, then see George return from "the back" with "the greatest deal ever," and see people thank him for coming down on the price so much, figure out a way in their minds to justify that little monthly payment they hadn't intended to adopt, and sign on the dotted line. Most people George sees love debt. They're glad for that little bit of indebtedness to walk out the door with that great deal on that car.
But somehow, Jed and I got this revelation that there are plenty of cars out there to choose from. And we are not desperate for anything even if we will have to finagle a little with what we have once Roxie comes, if she comes before we can find what works for us. We are in every way ready, willing, and able to hold our line.
So we walked out. George was a mess, and he called Jed about 12 times the next day to tell him another couple was taking it for a test drive, to tell him maybe he could work something else out, to ask him if we'd be stopping back by...
Meanwhile, we found another car that I was out test driving that next day while George was calling Jed. This one we like even more. It's a Chrysler Pacifica and is a better price to boot:
When Jed told George I was out driving another car we liked, George really went into overdrive. When Jed also told George that we researched the trade-in value of the Impala with N.A.D.A. and came back with a better quote than the one from the Kelley Blue Book people, George really changed his tune and came back with an offer very close to what we want.
So now, with the Pacifica people, we told them we'd like to try and work something out, but their salesguys are on vacation till Monday, so we'll have to wait and see. Jed's sending in the big guns all by myself to work this one out, and after the George Incident, I think Jed feels pretty confident I'll do an OK job. The guy helping me with my test drive must have been just an office manager or something, because I walked in and told him we were interested and this is what we wanted, and he just said, "Yeah, I don't know why that wouldn't work out. Sounds like a great deal!" When I checked in with him later, he reported that he'd talked to the salesguy on vacation who nearly panicked at the thought of settling so easily. He came back with his usual jabber about what they could actually do, so I'm gearing up for a good time with him Monday morning.
So we "Joneses" apparently know exactly what we want, and meanwhile we still have George salivating on the sidelines.
Poor George.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
"See my tie, tie my tie, see my tie, tie my tie..."
Fully prepared to write a silly post over at .snug.button. about how insanely cranky I am with this pregnancy, I've been lured into a complete about-face by a fabulously raw and honest conversation on Facebook about signs and wonders, culminating thus far on the topic of speaking in tongues.
I've almost developed multiple personality disorder trying to figure out just who my "audience" is for this post, and I guess it's anyone curious. Some of you who read this speak in tongues as a matter of course in your everyday lives, just as I do. Some of you consider it a vile abomination against the Truth. Some of you have no idea. But I'd wager that most consider it a somewhat distant idea that's just weird. Weird if you're a Christian. Weird if you're not. Actually, come to think of it, I think it's weird.
Most of us probably associate it with the image of hyper-charismatic wailing that surely is way more emotional than in any way holy, with "wang-doodling" preachers who end every other word with the additional "-ah!" (as in "Jesus-ah! wants to give-ah! you your blessing-ah!!"), or (speaking of blessing) with the extreme brand of the "Name it and claim it" crowd who have sort of become a "Bless Me" club. These uses of Holy Spirit giftings can be lawless and misleading at worst and are just immature or uninformed at best, but speaking in tongues has become for me one of the most practical, everyday means of prayer and interaction with Yahweh that I have. I often refer to it as "praying in the spirit," versus praying in the natural, which is just using English and my own understanding. And here's the part where I could break into a whole interwoven tapestry of an explanation, drawing from all kinds of different sources, but I'm determined not to overdo it on my first try.
Is it just for personal edification? Does it always necessitate an interpretation? What about in public settings? OK, so it's in the Bible, but it's somewhat unfamiliar and extraordinary, and bottom line, what's the point?
We could trudge verse-by-verse through the Bible, but that starts to get more complicated than I intend for this post. Some of you put no stock in the Bible anyway. (Though I whole-heartedly recommend it!) If you read this and wonder about specific Bible references, please ask! The whole New Testament talks about the Holy Spirit, signs and wonders including speaking in tongues, crazy miracles, and the basic movement of all the believers establishing and growing the early church. It's a total trip, and what an exciting time. And it was just the beginning, our foundation.
I'll answer my last question first. Speaking in tongues does have a point. I'm the kind of personality who values logic, used to be quite cynical, and now just holds a healthy dose of skepticism but is willing to acknowledge something that seems to maybe have validity. I like to know there's a reason for things. So the purpose of tongues: You could say it's an avenue to get outside of ourselves, to push beyond our natural thoughts and emotions in the moment, to stir up the Spirit indwelling us. My apostle (or pastor or spiritual father) has described it as akin to "lifting weights on the inside," building up your spirit man.
But who needs that? That might sound a little fluffy, ungrounded, void of respect for solid, foundational doctrine. All I can say is this. We are called to live not as mere mortals. Yahweh's original intent was for man to walk in open relationship with Him. We botched it. The whole Old Testament He is creating opportunities to bridge the gap, prophesying the whole time about His Son and how He will ultimately be that bridge that connects us back to the Father by the Spirit. In the New Testament, Yahshua (think "Jesus" if that's better) bridges the gap, then tells the disciples who lament His ascension that it's better for Him to go, because when He does, the Father will send them the Holy Spirit to live in them. According to Yahshua, "in" is better than "with," so all those Christians who say, "Oh, I just wish I could've been right there with Jesus when He was walking the earth" are missing this revelation of His presence currently in the body through the Holy Spirit and that He Himself said that this way IS the better deal.
In public settings, I think corporate praying in tongues serves the same purpose, but I do believe that there should be some sort of interpretation. When we pray in the spirit at church, it's either part of worship, so it's a personal thing for each person, or there is interpretation. Usually several people will get up to share what they've seen or heard, and it's uncanny, it can only be God, that more often than not, everybody was seeing or hearing a separate piece of the same larger picture, or were seeing the same picture altogether. When you experience that time and time again, you begin to see the validity. And it's not just for us to "ooh" and "aah" over each other and give pats on the back. Nor is it for us just to "ooh" and "aah" over Yahweh. It's, again, for a purpose. It brings direction or encouragement, but it almost always is a nudge or a call for action.
Praying in tongues is a fruit of being filled with, or baptized in, the Holy Spirit, something that can happen by someone laying hands on you or can happen when you're on your own and receptive to it. When I was first filled with the Spirit, I was so adamantly opposed to faking a response that I was almost dead-set on not falling over, on not going nuts. So I was rather stoic. And I didn't burst out into tongues the moment it happened (though that was Jed's experience). Why him and not me? Well, I guess part of it is that I was dead-set against it even though I told myself I was open to it. Funny we people are.
Then over the next few days, I was so stirred in my spirit, so alive and hungry and thirsty for more. I told my apostle that if praying in tongues is legit, and it was starting to appear that way as I watched some of my firends' lives, then I wanted it. But I felt like a turtle guarding myself at all costs. (Something about the spirit and the flesh at war...) But I wanted it. I knew by then that it was right. But yeah, it's weird. So, my apostle told me to just go somewhere quiet and begin to worship, to tell Yahweh how much I love Him and to let it pour out of me and to be open to whatever happens in the spirit. This will sound contrived to some of you. I can't convince you of how opposed I was to contriving things, so you'll have to trust me. But what he was suggesting was right for me: "Let down your guard. Trust. If it can happen, it will. But you must let go a little bit for the reality to even be a possibility." So I did it. And I started praying in tongues. And it was the most hilarious thing, because I thought I sounded like such a freak, but I couldn't stop, and I was so relieved, and I began to experience a strength that I've now come to rely on.
In the end, when I read this stuff in the Bible, I wonder about those who are so adamantly opposed to it. I understand the trepidation that comes from the unfamiliar element. I understand that when you get into subjective experiences, people begin to become skeptical of one another. I also know that true subjection to the Holy Spirit makes you that much MORE accountable, not less, to the reality of our spiritual lives, to the words that you hear and to the Holy Spirit in those around you as iron sharpens iron. At first, immaturity will cause people to think they've heard weird things or to not be sure if it's Him or their own thoughts, and that's why having people of maturity around you, people off of whom you can bounce it all, is highly beneficial. But I wonder about adamant opposition to things of the spirit, because these things are, perhaps uncomfortably, rampant in the Bible. If it was good enough for Paul, for the seventy, for Timothy, it's good enough for me. Does it not make a person even curious as to what that was all about and how it might be a part of our walk and who we are? I'm loath to discount something like that altogether until I've given it a fair shake.
As I re-read this, I am painfully aware of all the gaps I'm leaving for the sake of "sticking with the basics for now." I think I'm about to birth some sort of "Foundations" series or something; I'm not sure.
For now, know that for the walk we're called to walk, I don't believe it can be done in fullness without the spiritual access opened through the gift, available to all, of praying in tongues. To me, this whole thing goes waaaaaaaay beyond just having a different spiritual philosophy than other religions.
And, by the way, with the severe crankiness of this pregnancy, any guess at what I do to get Holy Spirit perspective, put my fickle feelings in their rightful place, and overcome it? ;)
I've almost developed multiple personality disorder trying to figure out just who my "audience" is for this post, and I guess it's anyone curious. Some of you who read this speak in tongues as a matter of course in your everyday lives, just as I do. Some of you consider it a vile abomination against the Truth. Some of you have no idea. But I'd wager that most consider it a somewhat distant idea that's just weird. Weird if you're a Christian. Weird if you're not. Actually, come to think of it, I think it's weird.
Is it just for personal edification? Does it always necessitate an interpretation? What about in public settings? OK, so it's in the Bible, but it's somewhat unfamiliar and extraordinary, and bottom line, what's the point?
We could trudge verse-by-verse through the Bible, but that starts to get more complicated than I intend for this post. Some of you put no stock in the Bible anyway. (Though I whole-heartedly recommend it!) If you read this and wonder about specific Bible references, please ask! The whole New Testament talks about the Holy Spirit, signs and wonders including speaking in tongues, crazy miracles, and the basic movement of all the believers establishing and growing the early church. It's a total trip, and what an exciting time. And it was just the beginning, our foundation.
In the beginning, there were two trees in opposition in the garden. The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil that represented natural things was forbidden. It did not bring life. It brought death and separation from God. But the Tree of Life was of the spirit. We are created and called to abide in the spirit realm, transcending our natural selves as we abide presently in Him now, not just someday in heaven ("Your Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven"). And Paul talks about how the spirit and the flesh war against each other. I want my spiritual eyes and ears and thoughts to have the upperhand over my natural experience or mind capacity or emotion. Whew! OK, so if we're to understand the deeper things and abide in the spirit and really have a relationship with Almighty God, that has to require getting outside our merely natural selves. Praying in tongues is a hugely practical way to do that.
 |
| We're created to feed from only one tree. Only one will satisfy: feed the spirit. |
As for interpretation, that's another of the practical reasons for praying in tongues. I don't know Yahweh's will in every situation. He warns us not to bless or curse haphazardly, and so now when I pray, I take it very seriously, especially if a person has asked me to pray for them. I think, "Geez, well, what are you doing here, Yahweh, and how can I pray and prophesy to back you up?" I pray in the spirit until I begin to "hear," with my spirit ears something clear to pray, then I'll pray that in English. But I have no interest in praying something for someone that might be working against what the Father wants. It's usually through praying in the spirit like this that I get words of knowledge or visions. And especially for issues that hit close to home for me where my emotions and thoughts are totally convinced and hell-bent on one war path, I must pray in the spirit to get some perspective and to make my natural soul, thoughts, and feelings submit to the greater authority. We canNOT be ruled by our experience but by His will, His voice of direction. That might be the most practical application right there. Every time I start praying in the spirit, I might still be distracted by my to-do list, or a patch of dust I suddenly can't ignore, or my thoughts and feelings, then I press on and press in and suddenly I begin to experience what I'd call a breaking through where suddenly I'm in the flow. As I get started, I am cognizant of merely yielding myself in worship to my Father. Once I'm in the flow and have gotten past all the immediate life issues, I start hearing Him. It's awesome. I don't always get direct answers, but I guarantee that when I'm done, I've just communed with the Most High and my spirit is amped, and I do have direction, regardless of what my original intent or question was.
In public settings, I think corporate praying in tongues serves the same purpose, but I do believe that there should be some sort of interpretation. When we pray in the spirit at church, it's either part of worship, so it's a personal thing for each person, or there is interpretation. Usually several people will get up to share what they've seen or heard, and it's uncanny, it can only be God, that more often than not, everybody was seeing or hearing a separate piece of the same larger picture, or were seeing the same picture altogether. When you experience that time and time again, you begin to see the validity. And it's not just for us to "ooh" and "aah" over each other and give pats on the back. Nor is it for us just to "ooh" and "aah" over Yahweh. It's, again, for a purpose. It brings direction or encouragement, but it almost always is a nudge or a call for action.
 |
| Alright, get me to pray in tongues. No, really, can't you tell it's what I want? |
Then over the next few days, I was so stirred in my spirit, so alive and hungry and thirsty for more. I told my apostle that if praying in tongues is legit, and it was starting to appear that way as I watched some of my firends' lives, then I wanted it. But I felt like a turtle guarding myself at all costs. (Something about the spirit and the flesh at war...) But I wanted it. I knew by then that it was right. But yeah, it's weird. So, my apostle told me to just go somewhere quiet and begin to worship, to tell Yahweh how much I love Him and to let it pour out of me and to be open to whatever happens in the spirit. This will sound contrived to some of you. I can't convince you of how opposed I was to contriving things, so you'll have to trust me. But what he was suggesting was right for me: "Let down your guard. Trust. If it can happen, it will. But you must let go a little bit for the reality to even be a possibility." So I did it. And I started praying in tongues. And it was the most hilarious thing, because I thought I sounded like such a freak, but I couldn't stop, and I was so relieved, and I began to experience a strength that I've now come to rely on.
As I re-read this, I am painfully aware of all the gaps I'm leaving for the sake of "sticking with the basics for now." I think I'm about to birth some sort of "Foundations" series or something; I'm not sure.
For now, know that for the walk we're called to walk, I don't believe it can be done in fullness without the spiritual access opened through the gift, available to all, of praying in tongues. To me, this whole thing goes waaaaaaaay beyond just having a different spiritual philosophy than other religions.
And, by the way, with the severe crankiness of this pregnancy, any guess at what I do to get Holy Spirit perspective, put my fickle feelings in their rightful place, and overcome it? ;)
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Our Savior with a Side of Beef
They say (something along the lines of) if you make seven new friends on your first visit to a church (or maybe your first few visits; I'm not all "read up" on church growth methods) then you're more likely to "stick" there. So there are those churches that greet you when you pull into the parking lot and direct you to a spot (how do you do it all by yourself at the mall, I wonder?), then greet you at the outside doors and maybe have tables with literature on the inside with another greeter waiting to meet you and answer your questions. And so on. It's nice to feel welcome, to be sure.
We hear the catchphrase "seeker sensitive" all the time, and there is no shortage of churches that are quite high on the entertainment factor. One time, probably a decade ago when we still lived in Texas, Jed went to a church where the praise team had a giant screen behind them. On the screen was a music video of those worship leaders all wearing similar khakis-and-white-shirt uniforms, but each with a different color sweater tied loosely around their necks, singing the song they were leading for the congregation. And the real-life leaders, on the stage, that were leading the song, in front of a giant screen of them wandering around in grass leading the song, they wore the same outfits. It seems a bit much, but so it was. That was absolutely a "seeker sensitive," program-driven, entertaining church. To this day, it's huge. It's good to have a place where seekers can seek, to be sure.
(As long as it's the Kingdom, the King, they find.)
Then there are places with coffee shops and all kinds of different "Your Label Here" groups, and I'm not saying that either of these things are (always) bad in and of themselves, but I am saying that we can easily tread a fine line trying to make Christianity appealing and become distracted by scratching a carnal itch, or caressing the soul (minds and emotions) or even just feeding the bodies (cushiony couches, coffee, and donuts) when the Real Deal Christianity is about as appealing as it gets. When it's not watered down to a social club. Or a Do-Good Society. Or a "Let's all hold on till we get to heaven" sing-a-long when we're commissioned to bring heaven to earth.
My apostle says, and now I say, "We shouldn't have to tie a steak around Yahshua's neck (that's Jesus) to get people to like Him." And he also says, "If I have to tap dance up here in a Big Bird suit to get you to come, I'll have to keep tap dancing up here in a Big Bird suit to keep you."
There. Has. To. Be. MORE. When you read the stories in the Bible of those who walked with God, when you read the words and actions of Yahshua, our Savior, who did not concern Himself with making the Truth palatable, and when you embrace the abiding power of the very Holy Spirit of God in your own life, you realize more and more how what you've seen and known isn't enough. You want more.
When you begin to witness miracles, become healed, encounter demons but see them subdued, and see visions or have words of knowledge that are beyond anything you ever could have known, then you realize, "Holy cow! This thing is REAL!!" If only a person can come to experience the very real living Presence of Almighty God, they won't care whether they have a coffee right then or not. They won't care if everyone's wearing matching sweaters or not. How can one experience Him or even just read the realities of this life as presented in the Bible and not be searching for more than just the programs, the rituals, the rules? Once you experience Him, the Big Bird suit becomes offensive to you. Makes you want to scream at Big Bird: "There's MORE!!" How, then, can people experience Him? It happens only when He's accurately demonstrated, either through legitimate, genuine personal seeking or, more commonly, through a son of God on assignment who IS, in fact, demonstrating Him. Not flash. Him. That is, Yahweh. How important that we get it right and don't get lost in other...stuff. Missing it by an inch is still missing it. Only worse.
I would be so upset if I realized too late that I was content with the mundane milk and all the while the real meat was right there, just always masked by pomp and circumstance, by a flash in the pan. No wait. Not masked. It can't be masked. It's either there, exploding in your face, or it's not there, being kept from rising in power. The real deal cannot always be predictable. That scares a lot of people.
We don't have church attendance at The Rock of Greater Burlington. You either know that you're joined by the Spirit or you aren't. Isn't that weird? So few do it that way. But making someone sign a form isn't going to make them stay, or if it did, it's obviously not for the right reasons. And since our success is not measured by what kinds of numbers we're sending in to the boards higher up, we're free from that formality ever the more.
So this is kind of funny, to talk about meat around Jesus' neck, but one more funny thing before I wrap this up. The Bible says that the Kingdom smells like life to some and death to others. The Kingdom is polarizing. Once encountered, people either dive in and can't get enough or they run screaming. Our goal, then, is to follow Holy Spirit's direction at every service so that we know we're releasing the Kingdom, unadulterated, and so often our services take a completely different turn than any of us, including my apostle, ever would've predicted that morning when getting ready. And we've found that Bible verse to be absolutely true. For those of us joined there to that purpose, by the Spirit of God, we smelled life and have remained at all cost to play our role. But we have had people walk in the door into the power and the unfamiliar freedom of our worship and literally run out the door! And I don't mean that our music has "unfamiliar freedom" in that there's lots of charismatic gyrating and snake charming or whatever weird stories we've all heard, though we do dance. If there's another thing I love about our church, or house, or ekklesia, it's that there is authority and order. But the Spirit always has free rein to move. And our music takes turns into new songs none of us has ever heard before, and the weight of Yahweh's presence is so palpable, it scares some people away. Like, literally, one girl ran out. So funny! Does it sound strange to hear a Christian talk like that? I hope so. And no, we didn't chase her out. We let her go. She saw the Kingdom and had a perfectly viable reaction.
So, if you're a seeker (which is where most all of us start), take the Savior with a steak tied around His neck if that's the best way to get you to be willing to meet Him. Then really get to know Him. Get to know the Father. Dig for the deeper things. And then you'll be challenged and drawn to that great adventure where the real meat is, and having tasted and seen, you'll know He's good, and you'll never look back.
We hear the catchphrase "seeker sensitive" all the time, and there is no shortage of churches that are quite high on the entertainment factor. One time, probably a decade ago when we still lived in Texas, Jed went to a church where the praise team had a giant screen behind them. On the screen was a music video of those worship leaders all wearing similar khakis-and-white-shirt uniforms, but each with a different color sweater tied loosely around their necks, singing the song they were leading for the congregation. And the real-life leaders, on the stage, that were leading the song, in front of a giant screen of them wandering around in grass leading the song, they wore the same outfits. It seems a bit much, but so it was. That was absolutely a "seeker sensitive," program-driven, entertaining church. To this day, it's huge. It's good to have a place where seekers can seek, to be sure.
(As long as it's the Kingdom, the King, they find.)
Then there are places with coffee shops and all kinds of different "Your Label Here" groups, and I'm not saying that either of these things are (always) bad in and of themselves, but I am saying that we can easily tread a fine line trying to make Christianity appealing and become distracted by scratching a carnal itch, or caressing the soul (minds and emotions) or even just feeding the bodies (cushiony couches, coffee, and donuts) when the Real Deal Christianity is about as appealing as it gets. When it's not watered down to a social club. Or a Do-Good Society. Or a "Let's all hold on till we get to heaven" sing-a-long when we're commissioned to bring heaven to earth.
 |
| Jesus is down with that. The Buddy Jesus from the movie "Dogma." |
My apostle says, and now I say, "We shouldn't have to tie a steak around Yahshua's neck (that's Jesus) to get people to like Him." And he also says, "If I have to tap dance up here in a Big Bird suit to get you to come, I'll have to keep tap dancing up here in a Big Bird suit to keep you."
There. Has. To. Be. MORE. When you read the stories in the Bible of those who walked with God, when you read the words and actions of Yahshua, our Savior, who did not concern Himself with making the Truth palatable, and when you embrace the abiding power of the very Holy Spirit of God in your own life, you realize more and more how what you've seen and known isn't enough. You want more.
When you begin to witness miracles, become healed, encounter demons but see them subdued, and see visions or have words of knowledge that are beyond anything you ever could have known, then you realize, "Holy cow! This thing is REAL!!" If only a person can come to experience the very real living Presence of Almighty God, they won't care whether they have a coffee right then or not. They won't care if everyone's wearing matching sweaters or not. How can one experience Him or even just read the realities of this life as presented in the Bible and not be searching for more than just the programs, the rituals, the rules? Once you experience Him, the Big Bird suit becomes offensive to you. Makes you want to scream at Big Bird: "There's MORE!!" How, then, can people experience Him? It happens only when He's accurately demonstrated, either through legitimate, genuine personal seeking or, more commonly, through a son of God on assignment who IS, in fact, demonstrating Him. Not flash. Him. That is, Yahweh. How important that we get it right and don't get lost in other...stuff. Missing it by an inch is still missing it. Only worse.
I would be so upset if I realized too late that I was content with the mundane milk and all the while the real meat was right there, just always masked by pomp and circumstance, by a flash in the pan. No wait. Not masked. It can't be masked. It's either there, exploding in your face, or it's not there, being kept from rising in power. The real deal cannot always be predictable. That scares a lot of people.
We don't have church attendance at The Rock of Greater Burlington. You either know that you're joined by the Spirit or you aren't. Isn't that weird? So few do it that way. But making someone sign a form isn't going to make them stay, or if it did, it's obviously not for the right reasons. And since our success is not measured by what kinds of numbers we're sending in to the boards higher up, we're free from that formality ever the more.
So this is kind of funny, to talk about meat around Jesus' neck, but one more funny thing before I wrap this up. The Bible says that the Kingdom smells like life to some and death to others. The Kingdom is polarizing. Once encountered, people either dive in and can't get enough or they run screaming. Our goal, then, is to follow Holy Spirit's direction at every service so that we know we're releasing the Kingdom, unadulterated, and so often our services take a completely different turn than any of us, including my apostle, ever would've predicted that morning when getting ready. And we've found that Bible verse to be absolutely true. For those of us joined there to that purpose, by the Spirit of God, we smelled life and have remained at all cost to play our role. But we have had people walk in the door into the power and the unfamiliar freedom of our worship and literally run out the door! And I don't mean that our music has "unfamiliar freedom" in that there's lots of charismatic gyrating and snake charming or whatever weird stories we've all heard, though we do dance. If there's another thing I love about our church, or house, or ekklesia, it's that there is authority and order. But the Spirit always has free rein to move. And our music takes turns into new songs none of us has ever heard before, and the weight of Yahweh's presence is so palpable, it scares some people away. Like, literally, one girl ran out. So funny! Does it sound strange to hear a Christian talk like that? I hope so. And no, we didn't chase her out. We let her go. She saw the Kingdom and had a perfectly viable reaction.
So, if you're a seeker (which is where most all of us start), take the Savior with a steak tied around His neck if that's the best way to get you to be willing to meet Him. Then really get to know Him. Get to know the Father. Dig for the deeper things. And then you'll be challenged and drawn to that great adventure where the real meat is, and having tasted and seen, you'll know He's good, and you'll never look back.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Offense: The Painful Massage
Even if you're staring at someone you trust with all your heart and you ask them for it, it's never fun to be told that something about you needs to change. (Perfect as we all are.) Unless you're just a glutton for misery, which some people actually are, or find your identity in being "not good enough." But no, even then, it's not happy.
Offense. It is... offensive. It likes "to irritate, annoy, or anger; cause resentful displeasure in" (good ol' dictionary.com). One of the most helpful things I've learned over the last 9 years has been that Yahweh is not above offending me. Sometimes that's the best way to get me to take a look at what needs to be changed. And every time he does it, whether it's straight from Him or through a situation with other people, He does it with an intent on leading me to a greater understanding, a greater glory. He's always trying to show me, "Hey, look. Here's something you believe so fervently, but what if it's not quite right? Would you be wiling to reconsider?" Or, "This thing that matters so much to you has started to matter too much to you. Would you be willing to let it go?" Those things that we cherish are the ones we cling to. And sometimes it's hard to change our minds, our paradigms, our emotional responses. So many of us have lots of these things tied up into our very identities, our very structure of who we think we are.
That's why in my little "About Me" section on this blog, I've written that there are a lot of roles I play but that at the end of the day, I am and always will be nothing less than a daughter of God on assignment. That way, I don't have to have my self-worth or sense of identity tied up in being a worship leader or a Vermonter or a Texan or a conservative or a brunette or whatever other strange things might creep into my perception of what makes me "me." If God told me today to stop leading worship, it would not destroy my self-worth. As it is, He actually did tell me that at the beginning of this pregnancy. About two days into the euphoric thrill of realizing we had another baby on the way, I was folding laundry and suddenly thought of worship at our church, and I heard Him as plain as day say, "You're not going back." That meant that once I got far enough along to take time off for the delivery, I wouldn't be returning as the worship leader. That will no longer be my assignment. And while it is truly bittersweet, my identity is not wrapped up in the task I'm performing. It's in the One who gives me the task. He's got plenty more in store for me, to say the least!
Finding out who we are. That is a big deal. It was a big struggle for me in my earlier years, and in my own experience, it seems that so much of that struggle for anyone is that we are learning how to trust and whom to trust. If a hateful, belligerent bully offends me, I bow up and might very well toss whatever he had to say. If my sister Deborah says it, I listen. Because I trust her. The poet Lord Byron had issues galore, but he was a great poet and said something I really like: "In solitude...we are least alone." Ah yes, that's where you hear all the inner voices and the solid, deeper stuff starts to surface. And one thing that makes me really hurt for someone is when I see that they are struggling with deep issues and sadness, jadedness and deep dissatisfaction, but they refuse to look it in the eye and address it. They would rather make their lives so noisy and busy than get quiet and listen to the deep inner voice that is crying out for help but that will absolutely lead to pain and offense on the way to Truth and healing. The only way to have success in that vulnerable place is to know that you can trust. Nobody wants to go there if they can't trust the others in there with them.
But if you can trust anyone, you can trust God. Sound a little trite, cursory, religious? Nevertheless, it is the TRUTH. And He always has a sent one somewhere close by that can be found if prayerfully sought out. And He is all about helping us all know what's real, what's true, who He is, and therefore who we are. True identity. Going back to the garden. Creating man to tend to the earth and walk and talk with Him.
What He will not do is take away the offense. But what He will show you about the offense is that whatever that painful thing is, whatever that soft spot is that doesn't like to be touched, it is not truly who we are. We may have received it for so long or courted it for so long or become so familiar with it that we are scared to part with it even though it's hurting us, that we think we cannot be separated from it and survive. Be it a long held belief, or a way of reacting to people or life, or a habit, sometimes the only way for us to get past it is to face the offense of being told it's got to go. And part of the healing balm that comes with that edict is the reality that that thing is not a legal part of us, not what He had in mind for us, and is an invader He's trying to rout out for our benefit.
If we know that it's for our best, if we know that God sees a picture bigger than what we see, what is it about us that would rather hold on to it than go through the edginess of change and come out in a greater glory? We are creatures of comfort after all. Or maybe sometimes we're just too proud.
Regardless, though, what is our best solution? To embrace offense. We ought never take it personally, because if it's something that must go, it's something God's pointing out as "It never was you, anyway, and I'm removing it, if you'll let me, so that you can be free of it and free to move on to a new level of revelation."
If He's trying to work on your behalf, don't stand in His way! Let Him. If it hurts, and it usually does, do what I do: think of it as a massage on really sore muscles. :D
Offense. It is... offensive. It likes "to irritate, annoy, or anger; cause resentful displeasure in" (good ol' dictionary.com). One of the most helpful things I've learned over the last 9 years has been that Yahweh is not above offending me. Sometimes that's the best way to get me to take a look at what needs to be changed. And every time he does it, whether it's straight from Him or through a situation with other people, He does it with an intent on leading me to a greater understanding, a greater glory. He's always trying to show me, "Hey, look. Here's something you believe so fervently, but what if it's not quite right? Would you be wiling to reconsider?" Or, "This thing that matters so much to you has started to matter too much to you. Would you be willing to let it go?" Those things that we cherish are the ones we cling to. And sometimes it's hard to change our minds, our paradigms, our emotional responses. So many of us have lots of these things tied up into our very identities, our very structure of who we think we are.
That's why in my little "About Me" section on this blog, I've written that there are a lot of roles I play but that at the end of the day, I am and always will be nothing less than a daughter of God on assignment. That way, I don't have to have my self-worth or sense of identity tied up in being a worship leader or a Vermonter or a Texan or a conservative or a brunette or whatever other strange things might creep into my perception of what makes me "me." If God told me today to stop leading worship, it would not destroy my self-worth. As it is, He actually did tell me that at the beginning of this pregnancy. About two days into the euphoric thrill of realizing we had another baby on the way, I was folding laundry and suddenly thought of worship at our church, and I heard Him as plain as day say, "You're not going back." That meant that once I got far enough along to take time off for the delivery, I wouldn't be returning as the worship leader. That will no longer be my assignment. And while it is truly bittersweet, my identity is not wrapped up in the task I'm performing. It's in the One who gives me the task. He's got plenty more in store for me, to say the least!
Finding out who we are. That is a big deal. It was a big struggle for me in my earlier years, and in my own experience, it seems that so much of that struggle for anyone is that we are learning how to trust and whom to trust. If a hateful, belligerent bully offends me, I bow up and might very well toss whatever he had to say. If my sister Deborah says it, I listen. Because I trust her. The poet Lord Byron had issues galore, but he was a great poet and said something I really like: "In solitude...we are least alone." Ah yes, that's where you hear all the inner voices and the solid, deeper stuff starts to surface. And one thing that makes me really hurt for someone is when I see that they are struggling with deep issues and sadness, jadedness and deep dissatisfaction, but they refuse to look it in the eye and address it. They would rather make their lives so noisy and busy than get quiet and listen to the deep inner voice that is crying out for help but that will absolutely lead to pain and offense on the way to Truth and healing. The only way to have success in that vulnerable place is to know that you can trust. Nobody wants to go there if they can't trust the others in there with them.
But if you can trust anyone, you can trust God. Sound a little trite, cursory, religious? Nevertheless, it is the TRUTH. And He always has a sent one somewhere close by that can be found if prayerfully sought out. And He is all about helping us all know what's real, what's true, who He is, and therefore who we are. True identity. Going back to the garden. Creating man to tend to the earth and walk and talk with Him.
What He will not do is take away the offense. But what He will show you about the offense is that whatever that painful thing is, whatever that soft spot is that doesn't like to be touched, it is not truly who we are. We may have received it for so long or courted it for so long or become so familiar with it that we are scared to part with it even though it's hurting us, that we think we cannot be separated from it and survive. Be it a long held belief, or a way of reacting to people or life, or a habit, sometimes the only way for us to get past it is to face the offense of being told it's got to go. And part of the healing balm that comes with that edict is the reality that that thing is not a legal part of us, not what He had in mind for us, and is an invader He's trying to rout out for our benefit.
If we know that it's for our best, if we know that God sees a picture bigger than what we see, what is it about us that would rather hold on to it than go through the edginess of change and come out in a greater glory? We are creatures of comfort after all. Or maybe sometimes we're just too proud.
Regardless, though, what is our best solution? To embrace offense. We ought never take it personally, because if it's something that must go, it's something God's pointing out as "It never was you, anyway, and I'm removing it, if you'll let me, so that you can be free of it and free to move on to a new level of revelation."
If He's trying to work on your behalf, don't stand in His way! Let Him. If it hurts, and it usually does, do what I do: think of it as a massage on really sore muscles. :D
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