The Dead Man Walked

I am listening to a song that touches my heart more than any other every time I hear it. Press On. As I am writing, I don't know who wrote the song, although I know I could Google it. I do know that when I hear Selah's version, it always brings tears to my eyes.

In Jesus' name we press on.

Last September I had the privilege of singing this song along with the choir that I belong to. As our choir practiced the song in the weeks preceding our presentation, it was interesting how many times whole portions of the choir would be choking back tears as we practiced.

Press on.

It's a phrase that speaks to that courageous portion of the heart that is in all of us.

A man was blind from birth. Jesus' disciples asked who had sinned--the man or his parents--that he had been born blind.

The reply "...this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life." John 9:3

He had never seen distance. He had no idea what a mountain looked like. The color of his hair was brown, but he didn't know what brown was. A cloud in the sky? What is the sky?

I don't know how old the man was. But let's make him a young man--20 years. Twenty long years. Get this, though. It wasn't because of the man's sin. "...this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life." For God?

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A favorite brother has died.

Not only was he a special brother, he also had a special friend. Jesus.

Jesus, who could heal. Jesus, who could make it all better quickly. Jesus, who wouldn't turn his back on any needy soul. Jesus knew he was sick.

Jesus stayed away and he died.

Did someone not have enough faith? Was it Mary...or Martha? Did Lazarus have a secret, hidden sin that kept Jesus from healing him?

"...No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it." John 11:4

Four days. Four long, short days. For God?

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I can easily think back more than 30 years to a night when life took on what has always appeared to be a "curse." Why me? Was I more a sinner than others? What did I do to deserve this? Why did it take more than 25 years for God's rescue effort to even begin?

Four days after Lazarus took his last breath, Jesus showed up. He cried with the sisters. Their grief was His grief. He cries with us. Our grief is His grief. And then he asked for the stone to be removed from the tomb.

And here is where five little words in the story of Lazarus literally slammed me in the gut yesterday.

The dead man came out. John 11:44 NIV


Listen, people. You've got to get this: I am the dead man!

Think about it!

You are the dead man.

*************************

Jesus mixed spit with dirt and rubbed it on the blind man's eyes. Radical therapy!

But the blind man had to press on for healing. He had to take himself to the pool and wash away the spud (get it?--spit mud :-)). And when asked how his eyes could now see he replied, "The man they call Jesus."

I can only imagine the number of souls who finally believed that yes, Jesus was the Messiah.

When Jesus finally arrived at Lazarus' home, Martha commented that if he had only been there a few days earlier, her brother would not have died. Then she pressed on. "But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask."

And the dead man walked.

Martha believed in the resurrection. She knew that her brother would rise again when Jesus returned at the last day. John 11:24

But Martha's belief pressed on a little further. "...even now..."

Therefore many...put their faith in him. John 11:45

Ponder the implications. You have something going on in your life. Maybe it's four days long. Maybe it's forty years long.

What if it's not about you? What if it's about God?

Should we not then carefully consider how we are responding to the less than pleasant, downright ugly chapters of our life?

Yes, it is about sin. God never intended life to be even remotely like this. He created perfection.

But if he is using what we experience on this sin filled world to lead others to put their faith in him, then somewhere in that thought I will consider it a privilege to bear that cross. I will press on.

Yes, I believe in the second coming resurrection. I also believe that I don't have to wait until then for a resurrection.

Because thanks to this Jesus, I was the dead man...and now I walk!

Fear

I have to share this quote I heard in church yesterday.

"Fear overcomes us when we subtract God's infinite power from our feeble initiatives."


Take some time to digest that one. I wish you could have heard the whole sermon.

30 times 2 - Silence

I worship in various ways, depending on the day, the weather, my mood, the time.


Often I worship at night sitting in a chair under the stars and moon, snuggled in a blanket, talking to God.


Sometimes I worship on the top of a mountain with a gorgious view, talking to God.


Most mornings I worship at the breakfast table. Yes, I admit it. I eat and read at the same time. And I talk to God.


I worship through music by singing out songs while blow drying my hair, while driving, while showering. I listen to Christian radio and CD's and worship while harmonizing with whoever is singing.


I worship by writing verses that have been meaningful to me on index cards and posting them on my cubicle walls at the office. As I work, I repeat the verse that I posted for that day or week. Some verses become so meaningful that they are posted indefinitely.

I worship by praying. On me knees. At my desk. In my car.


I worship by reading books that dig deep and force me to ponder and think about something other than the economy and the price of gas. BY THE WAY---- Have you read The Shack? (by William Young). It has been my most recent life-changing read. I was a little reserved about bringing up this book. Depending on what your beliefs are, certain parts of this book may clash with your theology. If you can read with an open mind and set aside those parts that may be "clashing", the treasures to be found in this thought-provoking book are well worth the investment of your time.


If you're not getting this, I will be transparent. I believe that God does use sheep from many folds to bring us to our knees.

This week I have been deep in thought about how much my worship to God involves me. It's really all about me.

And I began to wonder--does God even have a chance of reaching through to me? With all my reading, singing, praying, sermon listening ways--when is it His turn? When do I give Him the opportunity to make His voice known?

I realize that I am never silent. Oh yes, I can sit silently and you may think that nothing is going on with me. But more than likely, I am composing a grocery list, a chore list, fuming about some injustice I have encountered, planning my next day's schedule, and on and on and on.

So today, I am making a commitment to take this verse literally:

"Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10

I am committing to sitting for 30 minutes every day and doing nothing except allowing myself to be available to God.

No soft music playing in the background.

No Bible in my hand.

No prayer from my lips.

I already know this is impossible for me.

I will become distracted in the first sixty seconds. My thoughts will be all over the place. At the very least, I will be wanting to petition God for some need that I have. My eyes will see something that needs my attention. Work thoughts will invade my space.

I will want to talk to Him, instead of waiting for Him to talk to me.

And so, before I begin my thirty minutes of silence, I will pray that God will place a wall of angels around me to prevent Satan from interfering. I will expect Him to do that.

And then I will wait.

It may take a day. It may take a week. It may take a month.

I may want to give up and go back to my old ways. But by posting this publicly, I am making a commitment and allowing my friends to hold me accountable.

I believe--I wholeheartedly believe--that if I stay commited, eventually the clatter and chatter in my head will clear, and God will make Himself known. And I will recognize His voice.

30 times 2?

This doesn't negate the fact that my participating in worship to God is important. The singing, Bible reading, sermon listening, praying part of worship still needs to be an important part of my life. God does want to hear from me!

So during another part of my day, I will continue to commit 30 minutes to active Bible reading, praying worship.


"Be still and know that I am God"

Would you like to join me? As time passes, I will come back and add my own comments to this post sharing with you my experience. I will also share my failures. Keep it real.

Broken Hearts

Hi Friends:

I am going to write a message this evening that is difficult. It won't be comfortable for me to do, and yet I feel the message God has spoken to me through the experience is one that all of us could spend some time pondering.

I didn't start this blog so that I could just share thoughts that are fun or entertaining or easy.

Early this year, I met and began dating someone who was "just perfect" for me. He had the spiritual depth that I look for as well as the awesome good looks that I could only hope for :-) Along with those qualities, the way in which we met and other small details in timing, etc, allowed both of us to say more than once that it appeared that God, Himself, had brought us together.

A trusted counselor told me once to make a list of maybe ten qualities that I wished for in someone I would like to have a relationship with. And then using that list, decide how many were absolutely necessary, and which ones could be negotiated. (No one is perfect, right?!) Also, to know which ones of the criteria were absolute deal breakers if they couldn't be met.

Well, on my list is a criteria that is rare, and yet it is so strongly implanted in my heart that I feel God placed it there. To me, it's like a "calling".

It also disqualifies 99.99% of the male population that I can hope to be exposed to.

And so I don't spend a lot of time even hoping that I will meet someone with this particular quality. But if God put it on my heart...?

He met the criteria. The rare one. The hidden gem that can't be found in the general population. It just made our whole relationship even more "blessed" and filled with more certainty that this was the "One".

Four months later, it was over.

For four months I had lived and breathed this relationship. My first thoughts upon waking and my last thoughts at night. I could physically feel my heart for the first time in life. I was planning my future and forgetting my past.

Clouds in the sky looked like hearts and his number on my caller ID made me drop whatever I was doing and sit down to give our conversation my full attention.

Eagerness.

Longing.

Sheer Joy.

Anticipation.

Devastation...

Devastation...

Devastation...

Jeremiah 31:3 I have loved you with an everlasting love.

The ending of this relationship allowed me for the first time in my life to catch a tiny glimpse into how God suffers over my absence in His life.

For weeks and months afterward, I longed to hear something, anything. I tried and tried to open the door. My first thoughts upon waking and my last thoughts at night. I longed for him to know just how much I loved him and for him to respond, once again, to that love.

The heart that had physically "felt" love, felt the loss of that love to an even greater depth.

The darkness of the future without him was unfaceable.

I was willing to go to any lengths to restore the relationship...to bring him back. I loved him, and no separation or silence or absence could change that.

I ached.

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God.

He loves me.

He wants me.

His first thoughts and His last.

No separation or silence can change that.

His heart physically loves me. My heart, injured by six thousand years of sin, cannot fathom how much He physically feels love for me.

I am certain He hopes upon hope that I will talk to Him today. That I will give Him my undivided attention. That I will spend real time with Him--not just a moment with my hand on the doorknob as I rush out.

How He must hurt over the separation and silence that I alone am responsible for.

How dark His days must be as He waits and waits and waits--hoping for just a piece of my attention.

He doesn't want to face the future without me. It's too unfathomable for Him.

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I am coming away from the above experience with a keen awareness of how much pain I can inflict on my God, just by my silence toward Him.

Do you have an ache? Someone you love deeply has left you? Maybe through choice; maybe through death; maybe through distance.

Feel that hurt in your heart. How much more than we can even fathom is the hurting in the heart of God over our absence.

I do not want to hurt Him ever that way again. Because now, I have a tiny, tiny glimpse of His love and how His heart must hurt.

He aches.

For all of us.

The Broken God

Just a short thought for you all tonight from the book of I Samuel.

The Israelites were heading out to fight the Philistines once again. And once again, they were trying to do it on their own. They never seemed to get it, that God was their warrior, their hero, their triumph.

So this time, after a rousing defeat, they decided to get the Ark of the Covenant from the sanctuary and bring it with them into the battle. How could they lose with God's ark right there with them?

It was sin. And they did lose.

The unthinkable happened. The ark was captured by the Philistines.

After the Philistines had captured the ark, they took it and placed it in their temple, beside their god, Dagon. The next morning Dagon was found on the ground, fallen on his face.

And here is this amazing thought. I Samuel 5:3 "They took Dagon and put him back in his place."

Have you ever had to pick your God up and put him back in His place?

The following morning they once again found Dagon fallen on his face with his head and his hands broken off.

Friends, this is what I want you to repeat today...and tomorrow...and the next day. When your future is cloudy and your mountain is too steep; when the darkness presses in:

My God NEVER has to be picked up. My God NEVER has to be put back in His place. My God NEVER has to be dusted off, cleaned up, or pieced back together.

In fact, my God picks ME up...
He dusts ME off...
He puts ME back together...
and He sets ME back on my feet!

Amen.

Relentless Affection

I went for a walk today at the Carl Sandburg Farm in E. Flat Rock, NC.


If you haven't been there, you must go. The hike up Big Glassy Mountain is my favorite.


I go to the Sandburg Farm anytime I am feeling especially stressed or anxious...anytime I need to remove myself from the busyness surrounding me and really air out the brain cells. Today was one of those days.


I woke this morning wrestling with God over something that I am uncomfortable with, but through the trusted council of a spiritual advisor I feel that it is something God is calling me to do anyway. He never lets us chill out in the "comfortable", does He?


So this "thing" that God is calling me to do is something that in the end may bring ME absolutely no benefit whatsover. In fact, there is a big chance it will make MY heart hurt. But guess what? It's not about ME. And that is why I am rebelling.


Let's face it...we all have that selfishness in us, don't we? We are more than happy to be instruments in God's hands, as long as we are left with a "feel good" result. But what if what He is asking us to do is so completely about someone else...that we know (or we think we know) that there is little chance we will experience any result but pain.

So with that in mind, I headed to my retreat with the trail at the Sandburg Farm. I have never failed to come down off that mountain feeling anything but refreshed. Never, that is, until just a few short weeks ago...

It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and I decided that I “needed” some think time at the Sandburg Farm.

I arrived around 6:00 pm to the sound of thunder. It appeared that most people were coming down off the mountain, but I was in a frame of mind that made me determined to be at the top. I needed to be at the top. So up I climbed.

Okay, no need to tell me that I was making bad decisions all around that day. Alone. Trail. Thunder. Evening. I know, I know.

I passed a small handful of people coming down the mountain within the first few minutes of my hike, but then the trail was quiet and I walked the 1.3 miles to the top with the trail to myself.

By the time I reached the top of Big Glassy, the thunder was moving off in the distance and the view was spectacular as always. It was peaceful. Peace was what I was searching for that day. I sat down and just absorbed it into my soul.

A few minutes after arriving, a family of four reached the top. They enjoyed the view for maybe five minutes and then they turned and started back down, and once again the mountain was mine.

I sat there for almost a full hour entirely by myself. I just didn’t want to leave. Up there it was easy to remove myself from everything that was bothering me down below. It was easier to feel close to God.

Eventually I realized that I had better start the trek down before dusk settled in, but I moved rather reluctantly, slowly starting my stroll down the trail, hating the thought of reaching the bottom.

Shortly after starting down, a man came jogging UP the trail past me. Why would anyone want to jog UP a trail? :-)

If you have read my previous blog, you will know what one of my biggest fears is. Now you will know what another one of my biggest fears is. Being alone on a trail and meeting a man. Sorry, guys, I’m not trying to offend you. Blame it on the news media.

However, that fear doesn’t usually stop me from hiking. The desire to be outdoors is greater than the fear.

He looked like he was training for something, because he was carrying a backpack and drinking from one of those thingies where there is a pack of water and a long straw that goes into your mouth. I have no idea what that is called, but it made me feel more safe thinking that he was training for something.

I kept up my slow stroll downward, and shortly Mr. Man made it to the top of the mountain and was on his way back down, passing me. He was out of sight.

A minute later I rounded a corner and there ahead of me on the trail was Mr. Man. Except this time he wasn’t jogging. He had stopped and was turned facing my direction. Standing. Looking at me. Looking at me. Looking at me.

Ladies, I can only say that my legs turned to jelly instantly. It was my every fear turned true. My hand instantly went for my cell phone in my pocket, but I was fumbling and it wouldn’t come out.

Then ever so calmly he spoke…..…”There’s a bear.”

I looked directly past him, and there standing in the middle of the trail was…. A BEAR!!!

If I only had words to describe what my body was going through at that time. In one instant I thought an ax murderer was coming to take me away and in the next I thought I was a goner in the jaws of a bear. I can only say the human mind/body can’t take that kind of shock too often. I almost wet my pants!!

For one long eternal moment which seemed like sixty minutes but was probably more like ten seconds, we stood staring at the bear and the bear stood staring at us. And my hand was STILL struggling to get the cell phone out of the pocket. Oh yea, I knew I was too far from anything to get help in time, but I decided if I was going to die at the hands of that bear, I wanted someone from 911 to hear it happening.

Then the bear turned and lumbered off the trail, crashing through the woods and making plenty of noise while doing it. We could hear him for quite some time as he disappeared into the mountain.

In the span of thirty seconds, the ax murderer became my hero. I can only say I was practically worshipping at his feet…”I am so glad you were here!” “Thank you for being here!” “OH, I am SO GLAD you were HERE!” "Thank you for stopping!!" (to which he replied, "Well, I really wasn't going to pass that bear.)

Poor guy. He really just wanted to jog.

When I look back on those moments, I can't help but think of God. Isn't that how we are with God? We hit a rough patch, or a snag, and we think He is the meanest, cruelest, uncaring, distanced, you name it. How could HE treat ME like this? Who does HE think HE is? Why isn't HE taking care of me?

Thirty seconds later, something good has happened and we are "Praise God." "Thank you, God" "Isn't God good?" "Look what God did for me."

From ax murderer to hero.

I heard a song last Spring that had two words in it describing God's love for us. Relentless Affection. Those two words have stuck.

re·lent·less
: showing or promising no abatement of intensity, strength, or pace

Do you have a bear on your trail right now? Something is terrifying you or seems insurmountable? Impossible? Unfaceable? Maybe you don't even want to get up tomorrow morning?

Satan wants you to think that the One who is trying to lead you through it is the ax murderer. Satan wants you to be afraid to proceed.

I want you to know that the One willing to lead you through it is the Hero. His love will not slow in intensity or strength. Just give him those thirty seconds to open your eyes to His real character.

Relentless Affection.

Relentless Love.

Cricket Theology

Hi everybody,


Thanks to all of you who have contacted me and said you were reading the blog. I enjoy hearing from you!

About 3:45 am the other morning, I was awakened from my sleep by a very loud voice, "MOM!" Trying to fight my way into reality, I half sat up and once again that voice from across the hallway. "MOM, WHAT IS THAT?"


Now one thing you must know about me. I am the biggest scaredy-cat in the world. Especially after dark. That kind of yell is enough to have me instantly in burglar, kidnapping, stranger-in-the house mode. (I blame my brother. When we were children, he used to tell me that at midnight he turned into a wherewolf, and he would come out of the closet to get me. Trust me, I used to lie in bed with my eyes glued to the closet--petrified!!)


Heart beating wildly (with a normal heart rate of 59, beating wildly for me is 75) I struggled to make sense of the "THAT". I could hear IT, and thankfully I was quickly able to identify IT because I had heard it once before.


A cricket in the house.


Now, I am one who loves to sit outside after dark and listen to the night sounds. In fact, probably four nights out of a week, you will find me sitting outside under the stars saying my prayers before I go to bed. I love the moon and stars and the night bugs.


You know how loud those night bugs can sound. However, thousands of night bugs outside in the big, wide open space are nothing compared to ONE cricket in the house.


I am serious. It is incredible. The two times this has happened to me, I have been amazed that one little bug can create such a ruckus.



For those of you who don't have old, buggy houses I will assure you of this...once the cricket wakes you, you will not go back to sleep while he is singing. It is more disturbing than the smoke alarm going off.



So I dragged my weary body out of the bed and went in search of the cricket. It was easy to narrow the noise down to the bathroom right beside our bedrooms, but as soon as I stepped into the bathroom, Mr. Cricket went silent and my bleary eyes just couldn't focus in the rudeness of the light to find him.


I crawled back into bed and thankfully, he decided it was close enough to dawn to muzzle it and we heard nothing more.

Until....

...the next evening.


Just as the house started darkening for the evening, Jason and I both heard it loud and clear. The unmistakable chiiirp, chiiiirp, chiiiiirp.


Once again, we found ourselves in the bathroom and once again, Mr. Cricket fell into silent mode at the sound of our footsteps. Except this time, I knew we had to find the little critter or we were in for a looooong night.


I checked around the tub, sink, windowsill, on top and underneath everything. Before long I was crawling around on the bathroom floor on my hands and knees. At this very moment, my brain says, "There's a devotion in this situation somewhere".


I have a weird brain.

"The true test of a person's spiritual life and character is not what he does in the extraordinary moments of life, but what he does during the ordinary times when there is nothing tremendous or exciting happening." Oswald Chambers

I have been debating as to whether crawling around on the bathroom floor looking for a cricket and wondering to myself just when I last cleaned the bathroom floor could be considered an ordinary or an extraordinary moment of life.

You ladies will agree. It's ordinary. On any given day, we are "called" upon to take care of a myriad of situations that could suck any bit of "Importance" out of our psyche. Just when we feel like we are all put together, we have to pull out the plunger or clean up the puke.

The cure? Sing anyway. Praise God anyway. That's what the cricket does!

I did find the cricket. The linoleum on the floor is loose and I lifted a corner of it and there he was. I personally escorted him back outside to his own world once again.

That cricket belongs outside under the night sky, in the grass, with a million other crickets. However, for a couple days of his life he was stuck under my bathroom flooring, all alone, not a blade of grass nor a star in sight. Any yet he sang his little heart out, because that is what God designed him to do.

We belong on streets of gold, in mansions too large to measure, surrounded by a billion angels, with our Father, singing, laughing, swimming, living eternally.

However, for a few "days" of our life, we are stuck here in the muck, separated from the environment we were meant to be in and from a family we have yet to meet.

Sing anyway. Because that is what God designed us to do.