The Dividing Line

For the last few decades, but especially the last four-plus years, I've watched it with growing alarm. Otherwise wonderful people, committed Christians, good-living, God-fearing individuals, are fighting and losing friendships and even relationships with family members - now even in public fora like social media - about things that (to my way of thinking) should not even be an issue.  Politics.  Doctrine.  Human rights. 

Seriously?  When Jesus said that He came to bring division in Luke 12:51, He wasn't talking about these kinds of obsessions. He was talking about the simplicity of the Good News.  He was talking about Himself, about the Scandalon (the stumbling stone) of the Gospel. He was predicting family members turning each other in (in other words, turning in believing family members), ratting on them to the authorities because of their own lack of belief in Him. 

As for those who are fellow-believers, Jesus prayed in John 17 that they would be united - that they would be as united with each other and with Him as He was with the other members of the Trinity. Not in the sense that we all believe the same way about the same things, but in the sense of loving and accepting each other the way we are, in spite of our differences in thought or method. 

He said nothing of external politics. He said nothing of believers hating and bullying one another over piffling little details that mean nothing. 

Photo "Girls Looking At Each Other" courtesy of Stuart Miles
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

The dividing lines that I've noticed lately have been whether this or that leader is the right one for our respective countries. Or whether women should or should not preach. Or whether someone is white or a person of colour and whether that matters. Or whether certain people should be allowed to fall in love with each other and get married. Or whether people do or do not have the right to identify as male or female, or other. Or whether climate change does or does not exist. Each side -by and large - uses scripture as a weapon against the other.

Again I say, SERIOUSLY??

Ever since the dawn of humanity, there have been differences of opinion. And there will continue to be differences of opinion. Trump, Trudeau, democracy, socialism, feminism, etc., etc. Pick a topic, and someone has at least one opinion about it.  I even know someone who has three opinions on just about everything, and who will argue with herself without even anyone there in the room with her! 

But all these differences of opinion -- especially if we are believers -- are opportunities to show love to each other rather than excuses to fight one another. Otherwise, we poison our own testimony. And the cause of Christ suffers.

The world sees us fighting one another, putting one another down publicly, making fun of each other, and so forth, and what is the first thing they think? "If that's what being a 'Christian' is, I want no part of it."  And they are perfectly justified in saying so. Some believers, wanting no part of what passes for Christianity today, have decided that even though they believe in Jesus, they no longer want to be considered Christian because of the negative image it conjures up.

ENOUGH!! 

I submit another, more deserving, dividing line: a line in the changing sand of the times, so to speak. And I dare each of us to cross it, and to pay attention to the changing times while we do it. That dividing line is LOVE.

Enough with beating each other up over things that won't matter in a hundred years. Enough with trying to look good by making other people look bad. Enough with the martyr mentality (oh look at me, I'm the only one who has it right and you're just making me suffer...). Enough with the siege mentality where it's 'them against us'. Or 'us against them' more accurately....whoever "them" is! Most likely, it's usually the current villain in the crusader-mindset of religious folks: anyone that doesn't look like, act like, or think like we do. 

Come on, admit it - we've all done it in one way or another. We find a way to set ourselves apart from other folks. This kind of practice has earned itself the term of "othering" - treating another group of people as "less than" us because of some sort of difference we feel uncomfortable with. So let's step over that line from "othering" to "ANothering" where we love one ANother, bear one ANother's burdens, meet one ANother's needs. It doesn't mean we have to be doormats, but it does mean that we need to accept one ANother the way each of us is. 

And I think that Jesus would do the same. I know He did with me.

Kids kids

It was about 1994. My two children, barely aged 5 and 2, were running around the church sanctuary as the worship team was practicing the songs. I let them run because nobody else was there yet for the service, but as people started to file in, I began to tighten the reins.

"People are coming in," I told them. "Time to stop running and play quietly."

They listened - for as long as small children's attention span lasts. Especially when one of them has undiagnosed ADHD. 

So they started making noises and playing under the seat. Their giggles mingled with thumps their feet made on the underside of the pew as they lay on the floor. Occasionally one of them would run around and I would have to go and catch the offending one (usually the youngest) and cart them back. 

I was getting more and more frustrated as more and more adults turned toward me and glared.

Free Image courtesy of chriswolf at Pixabay.com

One of the greeters at the entryway was a large, jovial man named Blair.  He watched the kids and saw my frustration. As I was carting my toddler back for the fourth time (it felt like the tenth), Blair touched my arm. I stopped, still holding the child under my arm like a football. By this time, the oldest was coming closer to investigate.

Blair smiled at me. "I'm going to tell you something that my kids' Ukranian grandmother said to me when our children were their age," he announced, jerking his head toward my children. He looked me straight in the eye and said slowly, "Kids kids."

I stared back at him quizzically, confused by his statement. "Kids kids?" I queried. 

He chuckled. "She didn't speak English all that well. What she meant was that children are going to be children no matter where they are. And they are children for such a short time. So let them be children." 

He grinned as I slowly grasped his meaning. He was encouraging me as a mother - saying that it wasn't so horrible of me to let my kids play - because after all, they were children! To let them be children was the best gift I could give them.

That statement helped form my (and our) parenting decisions from that time onward. If they wanted to play at church, I'd take them into the foyer (or outside if I could) and let them play themselves out, rather than subject a teacher to them fidgeting and their excess of energy. 

If they wanted to go into Cubs instead of Brownies, into Cubs they went - and excelled! The oldest wanted to go into Scouts - so we supported her when the time came. And when she decided on her own that it wasn't for her, we supported that too. 

We encouraged each of them to plunge into whatever they wanted and we didn't force them into activities they had no interest in. As a result, they decided to take swimming classes together - something their mom had never had the courage to do! The oldest was in her junior high school band for a little over three years, learned to play the flute, and dropped out of senior high school band when she got a "creepy teacher" (who eventually was discovered to be too "friendly" toward some of his girl pupils...) and the youngest discovered she had a gift (among the other gifts she had) for using her hands. She developed an interest in carpentry and welding before she passed away in 2013 in a car crash. 

Each person has unique gifts and fills a special place in the world that only they can fill. And it all came into focus for me that day when a man named Blair took the time to encourage a young, harried mother. 

He also had another saying, which he said quite often: "It's nice to be nice."  And he lived by it.  Thank you, Blair. Thank you.

 

And you did not visit Me.

For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’
“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’
“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’ - - Matthew 25

He lives in poverty. Oh, to look at it from the surface (because Heaven forbid you look too closely) it might not seem so, but he often has to make the choice between eating and paying the electric or the phone bill, and sometimes both bills. He is on social assistance because he has no other choice. Seriously. There are people who really CANNOT work.

His house is dirty and messy. It is that way because he cannot see well enough to clean it. He is on the list for a cataract surgery, but there is no date on that yet. He longs to be able to see. He hates living like this. He is unable to work because of his vision and many other health problems ... but he would love to be able to work to pay his bills on time and afford to do so many things that people who don't live in poverty take for granted.

He doesn't trust people, because people have always let him down. They have hurt him, or taken advantage of his generosity when he had a bit more money, or they judged him, so he has learned to be wary of people and might even push them away. He especially doesn't trust Christians. They sit back in their nice houses and designer clothes and they judge him without taking the time to know him. He has no time for people like that. 

So on the surface, he seems prickly by nature. He calls it like he sees it, and that makes people uncomfortable. So they stay away. As a result, he is lonely. And you might think that he has brought it on himself, that if he were more friendly, he might have more friends. But almost everyone he has ever known or trusted in his life has either let him down, or judged him, or used him, or a combination of all three. He can't afford to trust.

Image from Pixabay - a blur of long grass

He has his property, the one good thing he has left of his parents: his father, who died years ago, and his mother, who deeded the property to him before she got dementia and had to be placed in a nursing home. He has one beat-up little car, which he just barely manages to keep road-worthy in case he needs to drive it, which doesn't happen often.

Everything else has been stolen from him. The neighbors drive by the house and shake their heads, tutting to themselves when they see that his lawn is overgrown, grass as tall as four feet in some places. They don't bother to stop in and ask him if he would like someone to come in and cut it for him. They wouldn't do it for nothing. Rather than care for him, they would rather think he doesn't care. He does care. He just cannot physically go out there and use a push mower. He has a heart condition, a lung condition, failing kidneys, is nearly blind with cataracts, and he has other health conditions as well. And he simply cannot afford to pay someone to cut the grass, nor could he afford a ride-on mower in a million years. Simple as that. 

He used to have homemakers coming in to the house. But someone saw a rodent trap and then they refused to come in. The house has rodents because part of the house sits on a mud basement, but he cannot afford to do the home renovations that would need to be done to keep the critters from coming in. He has battled them for months ... and he is winning. But until the gateway is closed (that is, until there is a cement barrier), the battle will continue. He has asked the government for help. But there is one problem. There is no guarantee that the government will help him.

He has nobody to help. And everyone assumes that someone else will do it. So nobody does.

The church has forgotten him. They are too busy raising funds for this or that missionary half a world away while he lives in squalor beneath their very noses. They hold those upturned noses and look the other way because he doesn't attend church, so they consider him to be apostate. He doesn't attend because he has been too hurt by Christians judging him in that exact way just because he gets frustrated and loses his temper with people sometimes. Live in poverty yourself, and then see how quickly you lose your temper.  

Every unexpected bill that arrives is a crisis. Every unexpected setback is overwhelming. He has attempted suicide ... and only an intramural nurse saved his life because she called him after he had taken the pills. She called the ambulance and they came and got him. He was in the hospital for weeks, battling depression and hopelessness and panic. You didn't know that, did you? No, because you forgot him; he was easy to forget.

Strangers help him before the church would ever think to. It was strangers in a community service organization who replaced his fridge when it got broken last winter. They came in and took out the old one, set up the new one and brought groceries to put in it. And these strangers were NOT from a Christian organization. 

The only family members who do care for him live so far away that it is very difficult to make sure his needs are met from day to day. They have their own bills to pay too. They help whenever they can, but it is not enough; he lives on only $537 a month, and no more. In the day by day reality, he lives with the knowledge that others have the power to get together and help him, but they don't. Or they won't. 

And there are many others like him out there, people the church has forgotten because 'the government will look after them.'  Well - the government keeps these people below the poverty line so that they will be motivated to seek work. But this fellow can't work. What about him? 

What about you? What about me? Where do we fit into all of this? Do we - as a result of our own lack of action - keep people like this gentleman trapped in what amounts to a prison of poverty, just because he doesn't look like, talk like, or act like us? Do they have to clean up their act and be more like us just so we will look at them?

I'm not saying he hasn't made mistakes in the past. I'm not saying he isn't making mistakes now. But the fact remains that he is struggling for every last hour he remains on the planet. It should not have to be so hard. WE do not have to be so hard.

We have lost our Way. And if we don't find the Way of compassion and love, someday we may hear that WE did not feed, clothe or visit the ones in need. 

Myth-ing out

Life is hard. It's so good to have wonderful friends and family who are there and who care. Sometimes, though, friends and family have no idea how to do that.

It's amazing to me how many of God's people miss out on opportunities to step alongside someone and help them through a rough patch, or a dark and lonely valley, just because of preconceived notions - or what I call myths - about basic things like life, death, God's will, and prayer. These myths, expressed in ways intended to comfort, actually do the opposite in many cases. 

Take, for example, the person who is terminally ill. Their family is dealing with the hard facts that they may not have much time left with their loved one. I have heard all kinds of things said to the families (and to the sick person) and quite frankly, many of them do more harm than good. 

Here's one example. One of the things I have heard people say is that "it's never too late; God may still reach in to heal, so keep on believing." While this is true, and it could happen, first of all, why would you push for a return to this earth when Heaven is so much better than here? And what gives human beings the right to dictate what God's will might be for that individual or family? Secondly, telling the family to keep on believing is kind of an insult. Think about it. If there were any more prayers to be prayed, if there was any more faith to be exercised, don't you think they've already tried praying and believing every single waking moment? Isn't this experience hard enough without the family living with not only grief, but guilt and shame you placed on them because they feel they somehow didn't do enough to keep their loved one with them?

Here's another myth - the assumption that the person has already died, it's just a matter of when they stop breathing. Kind of cruel, isn't it? but people couch it in religious terminology like "Praying for peace for you and yours at this difficult time." All it really means is that (a) the person is a goner, in the mind of the person saying this, and (b) the person giving condolences distances themselves emotionally and is spouting platitudes, which are polite, meaningless noises that they think people are supposed to say when someone is grieving. "Feel better," is what this amounts to, but the person almost always has no intention of being around before the grieving one feels better.

Photo "Sadness Woman In Friend's
Arms" by David Castillo Dominici
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

A third (and this one is completely false): "God must need another angel." People don't become angels; that would be a demotion. (Look it up. Angels long to have the relationship with God that we do by second birthright.) That's the first myth. The second myth is the implication that God TAKES someone away from us, which is the farthest from the truth. When a loved one passes away, God WELCOMES them Home. They immediately step into the next phase of Eternity - a richness of life and joy that we can only barely begin to comprehend. And He is WITH the people who are left behind, available for them to weep hot tears or sit in stony, silent, excruciating heart-pain, or anything in between, for as long as they need to. His patience, love, and kindness is measureless and strong.


I get why people say these things. They say them because human beings were never created for separation. People feel uncomfortable with the word goodbye, when they know that the goodbye is for what might be a very long time. That's as it should be, really. But my point is that those people who are going to be left behind need as much help and support as we can give them, in a real and tangible way. Are we really helping them by telling them these things? Or are we just helping ourselves feel better by convincing ourselves we've done our bit? Where will we really be when the harsh reality of life without their loved one hits them like a ton of bricks? Hiding safe behind our platitudes, or walking the valley with them - in person - so they can lean on us when they need to? 

I am talking to myself just as much as I am to anyone else. Even though I have known the loss of many dear ones, every time is at least as hard, and every time is different. I know that the terminal illness or loss of a loved one is messy, and it can be very uncomfortable to witness up close; believe me when I say that the person undergoing such an experience would love to be able to NOT witness it. But people sometimes need that other witness, that person who sits with them or hugs them without saying a word, whose presence is there, comforting without the need to say anything. Sometimes that means going for a piece of pie and an iced tea, sometimes it means inviting them over for an evening, sometimes it means letting them talk and letting them cry - and crying with them - and sometimes it even means sitting with them in the hospital ward rest area and missing your favorite sitcom.

It might be inconvenient. It might be uncomfortable. But to do any less would be missing - and mything - out.

You lost me

I was in the middle of responding to a co-worker's question about my personal life. It had been a while since we talked and she was eager to hear about how things were going, particularly for my brother. 

I was telling her how well he was doing compared to the first of the year, when he was going under the knife to remove a section of bowel due to colon cancer. I have talked about the phenomenon of miracle after miracle that has happened before in this blog, so I won't repeat it all here. But the most recent miracle bears repeating - after his heart attack on October 25 and the stent operation he had (while conscious) on October 30, not only has his energy and endurance increased, but his kidney function has improved. 

Creatinine is one of the body's waste products that the kidneys are supposed to process, and a normal count in the bloodstream is a maximum of 113 μmol per liter (a μmol is a weight measure that is 1/1000 the size of that molecule, thank you Doctor Google... haha). The higher the number is, the less able the kidneys are to do their job. Earlier this year, my brother's numbers were close to 600 of these per liter (showing his kidneys were functioning at about 15% of normal). Now, they are at 225, or functioning at around 50%. 

His surgeon can't explain it. 

Of course believers know immediately what happened: God did it.

But as I was telling this lady about the numbers and saying that we knew what happened but the doctors wouldn't believe it - she was so interested and engaged and wanted to know what it was. So I told her it was "somebody bigger than you or I" - referring to God - and that's when I got "the look."

Her smile disappeared. Her eyes glazed over and she rolled them a bit (even though she tried not to.) Her whole attitude changed from interested and engaged to merely polite. She moved her body a bit farther from me.

In that moment, I knew that I'd lost her: I'd lost her interest and I'd lost her respect. I was "one of THOSE." Every negative experience she'd ever had with super-zealot church people - and I am willing to bet there was a lifetime of them - was behind that look. I've seen it before, and quite frankly, I've felt as she did before. It's not a good feeling to feel on either side of the fence.

Now, I get that some people are going to react that way. I get that. Some might argue that it was just "persecution" - but I beg to differ because persecution is what believers are experiencing overseas in anti-christian regimes - people literally losing their heads over it. But this lady's reaction - that almost gut-sick response - got me to thinking about the years of hurt (likely from judgment, shame and guilt coming from so-called Christians) that went into how she lost interest so quickly, and that makes me so very angry. Jesus' message is about love and acceptance, forgiveness and hope - and the people who had interacted with her had most likely given her nothing but the opposite. That kind of bigotry, all done in the name of God, really scorches my tail-feathers.

Photo, "Little Boy Covering His Face"
courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I've often thought about how the way believers talk actually excludes and shuns people who might otherwise flock to us. All those hallelujahs and amens ... the little turns of phrase we learn in the organized church ... they all seem to be part of the secret-handshake kind of we're-in-you're-out mentality. And the judgment!!  One wonderful man told me his story of how, as a child, a church leader asked him how he was. He replied, "Good." The man immediately said, "Oh no you're not. 'There is none good, no not one.' " And he quoted the Scripture reference to back it up. I know that that verse is in the Bible, but how he used it was as a weapon, not anything else. In that moment, because of his judgment and condemnation, he lost that little boy for the gospel. It took that child years to recover from that kind of rejection, which he consistently got from everybody in the church (how sad!!), and it took him several decades to be able to start to accept God's love for him - and that was only because God Himself took the initiative. And that is only one person. How many thousands are like him? How many struggle with rejection every day of their lives because they've been hurt by someone who claimed to represent God?

How many people - when we stand before the Almighty One - will say to us, "You lost me"? How many could we have shown love to, but we were too high and mighty to stop our holiness marches long enough to care for them? How many times were we too busy proving we were right, and jumping on every single cuss word or behavior we didn't agree with? Is that really necessary? (God's a big boy, He doesn't need our protection, and I am pretty sure His Spirit does a far better job than we can of convincing people that He's real...) 

I'm talking to me, too - I've done it! Intending to show we are different, to stand out in the crowd, we end up doing nothing but pushing people away by telling them what they SHOULD be doing, and condemning them for NOT doing it. Wow... How tragic is that!

Tempest in a coffee cup

It started when a certain coffee shop chain decided not to feature an obviously Christmas-y decorated cup for the holiday season like every other coffee shop chain.  The most vocal outrage came from .... Christians.  First they bought the coffee and wrote Merry Christmas on the cups (ummm, doesn't that put MORE money in the chain's account?) and then there were calls to boycott ... and the debate raged hot and heavy on social media .... and so on, until everyone was (and is) sick of it. 

Oh come ON.

Photo "Homeless Man" courtesy of
Mantas Ruzveltas at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Of all the things to crusade for, this is what gets attention? A paper coffee cup?  How about the homeless in your neighbourhood?  How about the teenage girls who don't think they have any other option but to get an abortion when they get pregnant? How about the co-worker who is so lonely that he is considering suicide - how much would it cost to sit with him over a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie once in a while? or smile and say hello to him by name in the corridor?  How about the neighbour who needs his grass cut but can't afford to repair his lawnmower? How about you use your imagination to see how many ways you can do some good for someone else?  Who freaking CARES what your coffee cup has printed (or not printed) on it? 

I absolutely detest confrontation.  But I am so steamed about this small example of self-righteousness that I want to confront people who argue and judge over things that just don't matter. They don't!  It doesn't matter whether Joe Blow politician does or believes something you don't agree with.  It doesn't matter if people say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays.  It doesn't!  

Stop trying to Christianize everything!  It doesn't matter whether the preacher wears a tie.  It doesn't matter whether people believe in the big bang theory.   News flash: there are a lot of good-hearted people who aren't Christians. And they (and others who aren't quite so nice) are watching us, watching how we act and react.  And they have concluded that we're a pretty pathetic bunch.  

And they're right. As a group, in Western society, we really are.  A lot of us see demons in dishrags, angels in the shape of birds, and we can't even enjoy a simple pleasure like a sunset without turning it into an opportunity to beat people over the head with creationism. Here's another news flash: that doesn't "win souls." That makes people want to avoid us - and not because we're being persecuted for righteousness' sake.  It's because we're weird. And not in a good way, but in a space-cadet, whacked-out way!!

The truth is, we don't live in a Christian society.  We live in a secular society. So did the early Christians.  You didn't see them carrying placards and staging demonstrations against the blood sport at the Coliseum.  You didn't see them writing their emperor to have the taxes lifted.  You didn't see them going around judging people either.  What you saw was them loving people, being good to people.  You saw them enjoying life, being happy, and being generous.  

Christians are real people in a real relationship with a real Person.  And that Person is really into being good to people (ALL people), loving them, bringing them joy, no matter where on the journey they are.  He went to the limit and beyond to rescue the whole world... to show us His love. 

Put that in your coffee cup and drink it.  Live THAT out in real love and compassion, without trying to one-up someone else or prove a point.  I dare you.

Moved with Compassion

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about how God's intent is to conform us to the image of His Son, and that THIS is the "good" that all things work together for: Romans 8:28 must always be read with verse 29 to understand what that good is! What got me to thinking about that was the valley that a friend of mine is going through, with sudden and serious health problems going on in two different generations in her immediate family. (To read that blog post, click here.)

Friday past, that same friend got a frantic phone call from one of her grown children in a different province. Their sister (her daughter) had taken a bad turn. The message was to the point. "I think you'd better get over here." 

She contacted me right away and told me the news - the way any mom would tell a close friend that kind of news - in tears. My immediate concern was how I could help. She asked for us to look after her cat - I instantly agreed. The hospital was a 3-hour trip away, not cheap due to having to take a ferry to get there. But there was no question in her mind; she was going.

To make a short story even shorter, when she got to the hospital, she heard the news for herself. Her daughter had died while she was traveling to be with her. 

I got a three-word text as I was getting in the elevator at work to go home. "She is gone." 

I felt the earth sink a little beneath my feet. The room that I was in somehow had a hollow, "fish-eye" lens quality, and although there were people in it, they seemed to fade to the background. All that mattered was that my friend was hurting in a way that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

That set into motion a flurry of texts and communications back and forth with both her and the church family, along with vivid flashbacks of the day in October 2013 when I learned my own daughter had died. 

Photo "Sadness Woman In Friend's Arms"
courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I knew some of what lay in store for my friend now, and the one emotion I felt (and still feel) was compassion. That compassion only deepened as she discovered the following day that her aging mother (96 years old, recovering from a broken hip and hip replacement surgery) was failing badly and unable to return to her home. Basically, she was put in palliative care. It's just a matter of time, and she's not sure how much time her mom has left. Probably not much.

One devastating loss, and another one looming. My heart broke for her.

The word "compassion" literally means "to deeply feel alongside" - one feels another's pain, or sorrow, or joy, alongside (or with), the other person. 

When Jesus was on earth, one of the most common emotional states He experienced was compassion. But in every case, the Bible doesn't just say He felt sorry for people who were hurting. It says that Jesus was "moved with compassion" ... meaning that he did not just feel the emotion; it meant that He did something about it. He was moved. His compassion put Him into motion. He helped. He healed. He met needs. He visited. He comforted. He prayed.

He also said that He did nothing on His own, but only as the Father directed Him. So, operating in the Holy Spirit, He felt that feeling of compassion, and expected God's direction as to what to do, how far to go and when to stop. He got that, and obeyed it.

We have the exact same resource at our disposal as Jesus did, the same Holy Spirit that empowered and led Him to do all those amazing things. As He relied on the Holy Spirit (for leading and for empowerment) we can too. How amazing!! We can depend on the Comforter, the paracletos (Greek: the One called alongside to help - wait - that sounds a little bit like uh, the definition of compassion!) to lead and strengthen us to do His bidding. Every moment, every day, that same energizing power is ours. 

And we can use God's dynamite power, His own person (the Holy Spirit) to reach out to people as He leads. Why would we reach out to people? Well, I have a news flash for you....it's not because we're "supposed" to!!!! It's because He loves us. Period!! Listen to Paul, "The love of Christ compels us..." (2 Cor. 5:14) It's because He loves us, because we've experienced that love for ourselves, that makes us want to be that "hand extended" - not because it's our duty but because we love Him in return for loving us first, and that spills out all over everyone with whom we come in contact. In short, compassion for others (the lost, other believers, whatever) is a natural overflow of His love for us!! 

Which brings me back to my friend. My prayer for her is that she is able to sense and experience that divine, unconditional love for her, and that (even in the midst of her pain) she can spill out some of that love into the lives of the people with whom she comes in contact....that she continually knows that "peace that [sur]passes all understanding" surging through her. 

And not only will I will pray for her and for her family members ... I will make myself and my resources available as God leads me.

David's Dead Dog - or - Ripples of Grace

He was damaged goods - the only survivor of a failed empire. In the great escape when his grandfather and father died in battle and the new king came to power, his governess dropped Mephibosheth, and he was injured - crippled for life. He was only five years old at the time. His older brothers were all killed in the people's zeal to eradicate all traces of his grandfather's kingdom.

Servants carried him to safety and he lived a quiet, unassuming life, far from the public eye. He stayed out of harm's way as the battles for the control of his country raged near and far. He contributed nothing to the war effort - he could not. His life depended on staying safely anonymous. 

And he thought he did. 

Then, the tables turned - he received a summons to appear before the king. "This is it," he must have thought. "I'm dead meat." 

But the king did something totally unexpected, way over the top. "Your father was my best friend. I want to make sure you never want for anything. So I am restoring your grandfather's land back to you. It's yours," King David told him. "Your grandfather's servant Ziba will look after it for you, it's all arranged. And as often as you like, every day if you want, you can eat with me and my sons at my own table in the palace." 

David was within his rights to have Mephibosheth - and his son Mica - killed. Yet because of Mephibosheth's father, Jonathan, David chose to be generous to this young man. You can read the story for yourself in 2 Samuel 9.

"Who am I," Mephibosheth marveled, "that you would look at a dead dog like me?" He was keenly aware that he was a cripple. He KNEW that he could contribute nothing to the king's wealth or power, that he was actually a drain on the king's resources. 

Photo "Nicely Arranged Table" courtesy of marin at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

But David was true to his word - he restored all of Saul's lands and appointed Ziba and his sons to look after it, and Mephibosheth? 

Mephibosheth ate - sumptuous fare beyond what he could imagine- every day in the private residence of the king. He was waited on hand ... and foot. He became a treasured part of the family. 

And he knew it. Never again did he ever have to ask King David if it was okay for him to walk into the palace. He just walked in. The right was already his. It was a done deal.

And he never - ever - forgot what the king did for him. He never took it for granted. He had a new life. He had a new start. His son Mica had a future. Gratitude was his daily companion. He grew to love the king.

Gratitude, love, and devotion are always the natural response to grace.

And even when David messed up big time, and eventually had to go on the run again (this time from his own son) Mephibosheth remained faithful, loyal to his benefactor. In fact, he made a vow that he would not cut his hair until the king returned to his home from being in exile. 

In the meantime, Mephibosheth's servant Ziba lied to David, saying that his master had designs on the throne. David believed him and gave Saul's lands to Ziba. But Mephibosheth stayed at the palace. He had been given that right, and it was never taken away.

After Absalom's death and David's return to the palace, Mephibosheth was able to tell the king the truth - that he had never wanted to return to the monarchy - that Ziba had lied.

David didn't go back on his word to Ziva - he just said that now Ziba and Mephibosheth would be co-owners of the property (remember that in those days, land was wealth...)

But this time it was Mephibosheth's turn to surprise David. "Let him have it all," he said. "I just want to stay with you."

"I just want to stay with you. Yes, Ziba wronged me, spread lies about me, and stole the inheritance you gave to me, away from me. But as long as you and I are together, my king - that's all I really want."

If we'd been able to ask Mephibosheth how he was able to let go, why he was so devoted to the king, I'm sure he would have said, with a shrug, "He rescued me." In other words, "He had every right to have me killed but he showed me mercy instead. I already have everything I need with him; why would I hold onto something else? I hold no ill will toward Ziba - I just want to be with the one who chose me." 

That's how grace works - from the top down - from the inside out. It creates ripples that touch everything and everyone with whom we come in contact. It remakes us. It transforms who we are, how we think about ourselves, and inevitably how we think about the people in our lives.

Life eternal - and grace so big - what's not to love about that?

Until Morning

This week has been a sad one. 

Two wonderful ladies I've known for a very long time both passed away this week.

The first was one of the first women to take me under her wing when I first started exploring the world of the Spirit-filled life, about 32 years ago. Jean was ... unique. There was such an inner thrill in her - and it didn't take long to figure out why. Her joy when she sensed God moving in someone's life just bubbled out of her like large bubbles coming up to the surface from deep inside. Her passion for people to be free, her perseverance and power in prayer, and her willingness to do whatever God said, when He said, for however long He said, was phenomenal. 

The thing I'll miss most about her, though, is the way she would give what I came to call her "holy hugs."  She'd wrap her arms around me and start to pray in the Spirit ... then she'd sense God's presence and she'd start to chuckle, a low, deep sound that reminded me of toffee cooking on the stove. She'd squeeze tighter as her joy just overflowed; I couldn't help but be touched. 

The same thing would happen when she hugged others as well. Her joy was contagious; people couldn't help but be affected. 

When I heard that she had passed away this past week, I felt sad - not for her but for me. She is happier, freer than she's ever been. But down here won't quite be the same without her.

Photo "Lighthouse At Sunset" by
Serge Bertasius Phtography at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Then, this morning, I learned that the second lady had passed away last Friday. I've known this woman for even longer than I knew Jean. 

Elma and her late husband were what I think of when I use the term "salt of the earth." Generous, giving, and accepting, she was in the running to become my mother-in-law at one point (yes, I dated her son for a while) and although nothing ever came of it, I always felt privileged to have met her and her husband, and held a special place in my heart for their whole family. 

She and her husband were so kind to me when I was pregnant with Arielle - and so sick I could barely drag myself out of bed, much less care for a toddler. When I was at my lowest ebb (hours away from being hospitalized for severe dehydration) they came over here and looked after our oldest, did housework and never expected any payment at all.... while I sat on the sofa and cried with mixed helplessness and gratitude. It was just what they did. They did what they could to bless people. And it worked. We were blessed ... beyond belief.

Our girls considered them their honorary grandparents. There was just something about Elma - sweet and humble and gentle, soft-spoken but yet respected (out of love) by her children. 

I will miss her.

Whenever someone passes away who is a believer, especially if that someone is special to me or to my loved ones, I have a habit of drawing something on that date on my calendar - the outline of a setting sun on the horizon. It reminds me of the old gospel song, "Sunset" - the chorus of which goes, "God paints the clouds in the evening sky to show me the way to the palace on high, and stars mark the pathway lest my feet should roam; it's Sunset, and I'm going Home." 

The promise of Heaven is not a hope-so-maybe kind of hope. It's a "know-so" kind of hope - a calm assurance that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. I know that Jean and Elma are there - enjoying the bliss of being face-to-face with Jesus. They are in that Never-ending Day - where there is no darkness, no pain, no sorrow, no separation. 

Good night dear ladies. Rest well - enjoy - and I'll see you in the Morning.

Hugs and hand grenades

I grew up in a church that called itself fundamentalist. In hindsight, it was a lot more about following rules than it was about following Jesus and His Way of love. It was much more about making people behave themselves than it was about listening to them and caring about them. 

One of the major tenets of this particular church (and from what I've seen since, a LOT of fundamentalist churches) was this concept of "witnessing." 

Now, first of all, I am perfectly willing to share my faith as the Holy Spirit leads me and as the situation gets set up by Him. (And as I listen to Him, He also tells me when to be quiet and let Him do His work.) And He gives me opportunities to share a few words about my relationship with Him - sometimes where and when I least expect it. 

But there is something here that I think a lot of believers miss. The word "witness" - for the most part - is a NOUN and not a verb. Especially as used in the Bible. "You will be My witnesses," Jesus said in Acts 1. That means that it is something that we ARE, not something that we DO. 

So witnessING (as it is done today, and I'll give examples below) is contrary to the pattern of scripture. In fact, in my experience, it only HINDERS someone from accepting the good news because without exception, it makes unbelievers feel as though we Christians believe ourselves to be better than they are. (Ummm, we're NOT.)

It's true that believers are born again into a war in progress. It's true that we can wage spiritual warfare. Successfully, I might add. But this warfare is not accomplished with weapons of destruction. People need love. People DON'T need judgment. People are NOT the enemy. People - INDIVIDUAL people - are our MISSION.

HEAR ME.

Bumper stickers, tracts, Facebook posters, and other 'blanket' affirmations and platitudes just don't work. They are like throwing a hand grenade into the middle of a crowd hoping to make a statement about the power of God. There is a LOT of collateral damage. People get hurt. Badly. Such tactics don't take the individual into consideration at all. They just open fire and give those who "throw the grenade" a false sense of having "witnessed" and thus having fulfilled their Great Commission obligation. 

How tragic.

Messages or Facebook posts or tracts that use guilt or fear to get people to engage in these harmful behaviors (done in the name of good) only serve to keep God's people in bondage and hinder their ability to earn a hearing when the people around them are hurting. 

You see, using spiritual hand grenades absolves us of any responsibility to reach people who need reaching, to find those people who are searching, who are ready to hear, (ever think that someone in your circle of friends might NOT be ready to hear and be turned off by your obviousness? think about it!) and to show them the love of Jesus in a personal way. What these people need are hugs, not hand grenades. Hugs are personal. They can be messy because they involve human contact. And they only target one (or at the most two) at a time, so there is a considerable increase in time investment. 

Let me illustrate. 

About thirty years ago, my dad had a pretty major heart attack. Thankfully, he survived it!!  He was in the hospital, flat on his back with machines hooked up to him, monitoring his heart rate, his breathing, and his oxygen levels, only allowed to see one person at a time, and the pastor of the local church came to see him. The first thing out of his pastor's mouth was not "How are you?" but "Are you saaaaaved??" 

If Dad could have gotten up out of that bed (he told me later) he would have punched that guy in the mouth. HARD. If the story had ended there, my father would never have had a valid opportunity to respond to the Good News.

A few days later, another fellow came to see him. He sat with him, visit after visit, engaged him in conversation about the things that mattered to Dad, listened to him, and ended the visit when Dad showed signs of fatigue or of needing sleep. He never spoke a word to him about his soul, not for nearly three weeks. But he came to see him every day, took an interest in how he was doing, what he cared about, and how he felt. He really showed my father that he cared about HIM.  And finally, when he heard the Spirit whisper, "Now," he asked my dad's permission to ask him a personal question. (Read here: RESPECT.) Dad agreed. And the man simply said, "Are you fully trusting Jesus as your only way to a relationship with God?" Dad thought for a moment and simply said, "Yes. I am." And from that moment onward, his life and his attitudes changed. 

This is an example of what I mean by hugs and not hand grenades. 

Photo "Sadness Woman In Friend's Arms"
courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

If our friends know us at all, and if we have been true to our beliefs in our own lives and choices, they will know what our stand is, and whether we are Christians or not ... because they're smart people. We don't have to beat them over the head with it, and we don't have to be "in their face" with it all the time. All that does is make them want to run screaming in the other direction!! There is nothing that we can do to MAKE them become Christians, to see the "error of their ways" (can you begin to see how insulting that kind of attitude is to people?)  In fact, convicting people of their sin and bringing them to Jesus is not our job. It's God's. "HE [that is, the Holy Spirit] will convince the world of sin, of righteousness and of judgment," Jesus said in John 16. 

When I used to "witness" the way that I hear people trying to convince other believers to do - with a Bible in one hand and a club in the other - one person told me that the reason she became a Christian was NOT because I kept nagging her or reminding her about it. If anything, she said that my behavior toward her kept her from embracing the gospel because she didn't want to be that "in your face" kind of believer. (News flash!) What convinced her was not anything I said. In fact, the thing that spoke most to her was that she saw how happy I was now. She'd seen me at my worst ... and she knew that in spite of my obnoxiousness (and trust me, I was sickeningly zealous!) I was truly happy for the first time in my life. And THAT - above all else - was what got through to her. 

Huh. Who knew. 

The world needs more genuine hugs and far less impersonal and judgmental hand grenades. And so does the church.

Just saying.

I'm just along for the ride - thank God!

A couple of evenings ago, I gave a little talk at our church for a bunch of ladies who had asked me to give "my testimony." They gave me carte blanche, which I suppose is a dangerous thing to do. However, after praying about it, and not getting any "red lights"... I decided to do it.

A couple of people have expressed disappointment that they weren't able to hear me speak. Although I can't imagine that, I did speak from extensive notes, so, to accommodate them, I have decided to transcribe what I said into this blog post.

Here is the text of what I spoke.

Romans 8:28, 29

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who are (the) called according to His purpose.

“For whom God foreknew, He also did predestine to be conformed to the image of His Son.”

Philippians 1:6

“Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will (continue to) perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Most of you know that six and a half weeks ago, my youngest daughter Arielle was killed in a car crash in Alberta. Since that time, God has worked miracle after miracle in our lives, in our relationships, in our spiritual walk, in our attitudes, and in the lives of so many more people.

I couldn’t begin to tell you how many miracles there have been; I’ve lost count.

But anyway, about a week ago, I was talking to Neil and we were discussing how we would have reacted to “all this” if we both were the people we were five years ago.

We both shook our heads. We would each have dealt with it far differently. He would have dived even farther into a vodka bottle. And I – instead of standing before you tonight – would have been on the prayer chain because I would have been in Unit 9 - the psychiatric ward.

Seriously.

So in order for you to understand the miracles that have been happening lately, maybe I’d better let you know what miracles He started doing back when our lives were so far in the toilet that we thought we’d never get out.

Before I start, I need to let you know that I’m not telling tales out of school. Neil has given me permission to share anything about him that I need to share in order to show you how strong God is. And I have to stress above all, that this is not really our story so much as it is God’s story – the one He is writing in us. In me.

This is what my life was like five years ago.

I was a wife and a mother of two girls aged 19 and 16. I was in the music ministry with my husband of 28 years. I had just started a great job in the government, one I liked a lot. It looked like I had life by the tail.

But I was miserable. My husband was an alcoholic – he was drinking two fifths of vodka a day just to stay normal, and he’d go to a forty-ouncer a day to get to a blackout so he could get rid of the pain of living life with no emotion at all. He was unable to feel anything unless he was drinking. The girls were dealing with his problem the best way they could. And I was trying to keep it together. But my keeping it together was making everybody crazy. Including me. I was hiding his problem from people at work, at church, from his friends and mine. I was afraid of losing him, of losing my kids. So I tried to control them. Every last second of their lives!! That was my secret life.

In the meantime, I was living in Denial. I lied to people that I was doing great, Christian lies. Masks.

My home life was a joke. My kids hated having me around. I was judgmental, controlling, and manipulative. I could host the greatest guilt trips going. Everything was about how they were hurting me, attacking me, or attacking God. I’ll give you an example. The television.

I forbade them to watch certain shows. This show is SO New Age. That movie is Witchcraft 101. They watched them – behind my back – and they resented me for judging them. The truth was, I didn’t want to discuss those things, felt uncomfortable around them and didn’t want to see them myself. So I prohibited them. And I called it “standing for righteousness.” They didn’t see it that way. They saw it as me being a “Christianazi.” And they resented me. And they resented the God I thought I was serving. As for me, what this whole thing was about was not standing for righteousness at ALL. It was all about fear. I was afraid they’d turn their backs on God. And without knowing it, I was making sure they did.

God on the other hand, was getting pretty tired of this. I’d been deluding myself. And my worst fear of all – of Neil’s alcoholism – was the very thing He used to get me to the place where I was willing to ask for help.

I was so arrogant, so hypocritical. And I was hurting. So. Much. In my pain I accused him of choosing to drink, thought that he chose alcohol over me.

He drank more. I threatened to leave. He drank more. I was mean to him. He sank into silence and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. I wept. He drank.

Finally, in December 2008, I couldn’t hide any more because his drinking led to him losing his license. For six months. At the beginning of winter.

Now you might or might not know this … but I hate winter. Hate the snow, hate the ice, hate the cold. And I HATE driving in it, shoveling it, wearing bulky clothes in it. It might seem like a small thing – but a very small puff of wind can topple a house of cards. And I could see the cards slipping.

And I was scared.

The kids blamed me, of course. I blamed them – especially our youngest, who was at that time in full rebellion mode. And I knew that if this kept up, I’d lose everything: my marriage, my kids, and my ministry.

I was desperate. I prayed one of those “Peter prayers.” You know, like the one he prayed on the Sea of Galilee during the storm after he got out of the boat, when he started sinking below the waves.

“Lord, HELP ME!”

That was the beginning. God led me to a counsellor at the treatment centre. I went there … not to help ME, I told myself, but to help NEIL. To get him to stop drinking. I walked into my first session. That was in January 2009.

God had other ideas.

Over the course of the next year, He taught me a few things about myself in therapy. He taught me about life, and how to really live it. I won’t tell you about that whole year, because I've only been given 20 minutes! But here are some things I learned in that year:

• It is I who need help. Even more help than Neil needed in his addiction.  
• I was truly bound. I was truly addicted to controlling people and to getting my own way.
•  The roots of my problem went back to my childhood. I had deep, unresolved issues and I was so very full of anger and self-pity.
• I believed awful things about myself. And I told these things to myself all the time. You’re not worth anything. Nobody can like you… if they really knew you they’d reject you. All this is your fault. Neil’s drinking because you are so hard to live with. Things like that.  
• I was a victim. I let others walk all over me and I overcompensated by bullying my husband and children. They were AFRAID OF ME, of my temper, of my judgment.

Now … here are some of the things I learned about God.

• He’s not interested in my brownie point system. You know the one, where I keep score of what I do for Him so that He’s obligated to do what I want Him to do. It doesn’t work that way. It never did.
•  He accepts me just the way I am and He loves me. For ME. 
• HE. IS. FAITHFUL. He’ll NEVER give up on me … NEVER. EVER.

During that year, I learned that NOTHING I thought mattered, really mattered!!  That God is about one thing and one thing only: INTIMACY – and that with respect to all the baggage I carried, He was all about ACCEPTANCE … NOT judgment.

I learned how to do this: (Put both HANDS UP, and STEP BACK).

That is, I learned that people have boundaries. (Who knew?) Really. I never had boundaries growing up, and so I thought there weren’t any; they didn’t exist! But He taught me that they do exist, it’s healthy to have boundaries, and that everyone has them. And that it was okay for ME to have them, too.

I learned what forgiveness is (and what it isn’t) and I learned HOW TO DO IT. 

(… and that’s a whole other talk!!)

Again…. GOD DID THIS.  JUDY DIDN’T DO IT. JUDY COULDN’T. Judy had tried to do it and had FAILED MISERABLY.

All the time that my attitudes were changing because of what I was learning, my behavior was changing. I didn’t have to TRY to change it. It just happened.  “HE WHO BEGAN A GOOD WORK IN YOU WILL (continue to) PERFORM IT…”

My husband and kids were the first to notice it. And as I became more accepting, those relationships started to change.

Oh… did I mention that two months into this process, Neil got sober? And with God’s help every day of his life, he’s been sober since March 25, 2009.

I began to see how my own behavior caused the very things in my kids that I was trying to protect them from. I had to let go of those things. I had to let go of THEM.

So I needed to tell them. I needed to apologize to them for things I said, attitudes I held, things I did. Against THEM.

And you know … THEY FORGAVE ME. And relationships started to build.

There was a lot of damage to undo and I made a lot of mistakes along the way. But I’d learned how to live life. And God was more real to me than ever. My relationship with Him turned into this moment-by-moment friendship. I kept growing, kept learning. I still am.

FAST FORWARD NOW, to about a year or so ago.

Was I perfect? Were my husband and kids perfect? Of course not. But at least we could talk! And God still had work to do (and by the way, He still does).

The relationship between me and my youngest was still rocky. The one with my oldest was turning around some, but the one with Arielle… well, she was running with what I considered to be the wrong crowd. They were into drugs, alcohol, and more, and she was breaking every rule she could.

It was horrible. I had spent a whole year learning this new lifestyle of acceptance and freedom, of non-judgmentalism and letting go .... and it seemed that life wasn’t working. I just knew that when I clamped down, she was worse than ever. So I kept on letting go, as much as I knew how.

Before I go any further, I need to say that during this time I actually GAVE UP praying for Arielle. Unless it was to get her out of a scrape.

I’d given up hope that she’d ever change. I didn't think that even God could reach her. With her friends, she was amazing, patient, compassionate, wonderful. But with me… things were strained and she kept pushing the boundaries, even stealing from us. When she started doing that, and we had proof she’d hawked some of our possessions, we had to protect ourselves and her sister, and we showed her the door.

She never saw it coming.

I had to let go of her all over again, a whole new level of letting go.

She was so unhappy. There were so many strikes against her - her ADHD, her emotional problems, her work history, her lack of education … they made it impossible for her to get a job here on PEI.

So within a month, she decided to move to Edmonton with a friend I didn’t approve of at the time. I was TOTALLY against the move – but I could do nothing to stop it. She left.

I let go. Every day. And God protected her. Every day. Kept her from being mauled by a bear on the way up there, kept her from getting hurt by some nasty folks in northern Ontario. So many times, in so many ways over those months.

And I kept in touch with her. We texted nearly every day, more often as time went on and the relationship just … well it got better and better.

She’d been in Alberta about 2 and a half months when the unexpected happened. At least I didn’t expect it.

God stepped in. 

In the space of 24 hours, He set things up and she had a powerful, real encounter with Him, and felt His presence so very strongly. She KNEW He was real. She’d believed since she was three, but this was one of those transformational, one-of-a-kind God-moments. This young man she was dating had just had a personal encounter with God and he told her about it. And she felt something warm, she said, all through her torso. 

At one point he had to get out of the car, and so she pulled over and let him out. And she prayed. "God, I don't know if I'm just feeling his emotions or if this is something more. But if it is real, I'm going to need a sign."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she began to sob, deep wracking sobs. She felt God's presence in a real way. 

Christmas 2011 - we'd given her tickets to see her
favorite comedian, John Pinette, live.
She was so excited!!

 The young man came back into the car and asked her if she was all right, she was crying so hard! She told him about what had happened and he grinned. "It happened like that for me too!!" he said. 

And they spent the whole night praying and talking about God.

 My daughter. Praying.

She couldn’t wait to tell me, to tell her father, Dorothy, her friends, … everyone… what happened.

It was this experience and this transformation that got us through the next month of her life as she became homeless less than two days after this experience, living in her car, while fighting sickness, muggers, thieves, and cold – which affected the quality of her sleep – and of course lack of money. She wanted a home…so much. A little over a month of this lifestyle, and then, ... she was gone. Just like that.

And it was her experience in God that has comforted us so much since we heard of her accident. The healing has come from the love we have felt from literally hundreds of people whose lives have been touched by hers. Including the young man with whom she went to Edmonton. Because of her, he's celebrating five months clean and sober this week. And the young man who was in the car with her that night. 

And there have been so many more … in Alberta, in PEI, in Newfoundland, in this church, in others, at work, at school even. I haven’t spoken in a lot of detail tonight about this part because it is so very fresh, and there are still some things that we don’t know about what happened on that road that night. 

But from experience I can say this to you, about what is happening IN HERE.  INSIDE.

GOD is faithful AND GOD is strong, WHETHER YOU THINK YOU ARE OR NOT. But He proves Himself faithful and strong THE WEAKER YOU REALIZE YOU ARE.

IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW MUCH FAITH YOU THINK YOU HAVE OR HOW MUCH YOU FEEL YOU HAVE TO PRAY. GOD WILL DO WHAT HE PROMISED REGARDLESS. NOT BECAUSE YOU TWIST HIS ARM, BUT BECAUSE HE WANTS TO. BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU, BECAUSE HE LOVES ME.

AND GOD WILL DO ANYTHING, ALLOW ANYTHING IF IT WILL GET YOU AND ME TO THE PLACE OF INTIMACY, BECAUSE ONLY THERE WILL HE BE ABLE TO CONFORM US TO HIS SON’S IMAGE. THAT IS “THE GOOD” THAT ALL THINGS WORK TOGETHER FOR!!! THAT IS THE “GOOD WORK” THAT HE IS DETERMINED TO COMPLETE IN YOU AND ME.

AND HE WILL DO IT. BECAUSE IT’S HIS THING. IT’S NOT SOMETHING WE DO. HE DOES IT.

HOW? How do we cooperate with what He's doing?

HOW?

GOOD QUESTION.

 

THIS IS HOW.

HOW is spelled H – O – W

H stands for HONESTY. Be honest with yourself. With God. Masks DON’T WORK. You will rob yourself of a lot of joy by lying to yourself about your motives. Pray David’s prayer, “Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me, and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me. Lead me in the everlasting path.” (Ps. 139)

O stands for OPENNESS. Be open to Him. Be open to the thought that you might not know everything … and let Him teach you. Be open to being changed. Be open to being found. Stop hiding from Him. Let Him in. That word, intimacy – think of it this way: “Intimacy equals into me see”. Understand that this is a process. God’s not going to ZAP you. Intimacy takes time to develop. Let it happen. It's worth it.

W stands for WILLINGNESS. Be willing to take the lid off. Be willing to look at those things that you might be afraid to look at in yourself. Old resentments, old hurts, attitudes you’ve been holding onto and thinking to yourself that “that’s just the way I am.”  Ask Him to reveal those things to you and trust that He will walk through the process with you.

Because He will. HE WANTS to. So He will. 

A lot of things have changed in my life in the last five years. And I've not done any of it. It's all been Him. And it's been His love, expressed in so many ways. Including you people.

I'm so grateful.  Thank you.