When It's Time to Tell the Story

I wanted to wait until I was at the end of my journey to write about this one. The problem with that is, this won't end until my life on earth is done. That will be the day I'll receive my heavenly body and the story that I am living now won't really matter.

It matters now so it is now I will begin the telling.

Food, weight, body image, diets, exercise and anything in between has been a life long battle. I attended my first "diet club" meeting at the age of 13 so it's fair to say that for thirty seven years I have waged war in some way or another. There has never been a moment when I didn't care but a million moments where I didn't know how to care. If you think about it, finding one answer to weight loss for every person on the planet hasn't been done. Because every body is created  in such a unique way and every human experience has fed into the problem the answer itself is personal.

In Facebook terms, my relationship status with food would look like this:

Of course that would apply to body image and a dozen other pieces of my life as well. I suppose it has been a long time coming but for my own body, my own spiritual, emotional and physical health, the knots of confusion began to unravel over the past few years.

As I try to figure out just where the beginning of this healing path began for me I'm finding that there has never been just one piece of the puzzle. There hasn't been one great epiphany or discovery. It is all part of the journey. I don't even know if it's a new path as much as a new portion of a very long path for me. Just as living an unhealthy life for so long and not knowing where to get off, this has been a slow road to health in which I am not sure just where I got on.

In fact, after years of taking "before" pictures, there isn't one for this. With countless photos that have no "after" I gave up on creating a line in the sand. After years of feeling like a failure weighed in on me heavier than the scale at the gym did, I wasn't willing to purposely document this one. This turned out to be a great decision because the one portrait I turn to for comparison can only show you my outside progress. What you can't see is that the joy of healing and grace and peace had already rooted so deeply in my heart that the smile in my eyes tells more than the size of my pants or my favorite grey sweater.

There are some significant moments along that way that I can point to in this road of change.

*A blood test that pointed to a pre-diabetic condition steered me away from eating certain food and in the path of healing nutrition.

*When the understanding of God's grace took deep root in my soul, I began to understand the freedom He intended to lavish on me from the beginning.

*The beauty of being His beloved overwhelmed my heart to settle into me the depth of His love and my worth in His eyes. It doesn't change with my eating habits or my size. It is a immovable and steadfast as His love for me.

*He used soul sisters to reveal the gift of food in ministry and community as we break bread together. Food He created is a gift we can share and the sacred ministry of sharing a meal with another being, if embraced, can bring unity and healing and strength.

*Perhaps writing An Open Love Letter (to My Own Body) helped me see things in a new light.

As in any place in our lives that demand growth, to be sure, there are things that I have had to give up. Anyone who tells you that you can attain health without giving up unhealthy habits is selling something  This is my Creator I am talking about. In the giving up of those things, I have opened up the space for experiencing life, not death.

Micah 6:8 "He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you But to do justly, To love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God?"

Matthew 22:37,28 “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul. Love him with all your mind.(Deuteronomy 6:5) 38 This is the first and most important commandment." 

Two of the many Scripture that have made this part of the path make sense. I'm a woman who needs direction and it is in the pages of God's Word that I find the most. After all, He created me for a relationship with Him and food to sustain this body so I can have a relationship with you.

While I still reside on earth, I don't expect there to be a true "after" but a I hope you don't mind if a few "during" shots show up here

 and there.

Always, 

Hope

What I Was Made For

This past Friday night was my second speaking event in two weeks. It was all that I anticipated it would be and more. It was as if I was relaxing in a room full of friends, telling stories laced with laughter and tears. Recounting the saga of infertility, adoption, loneliness grace and faith. The stories that have built my faith are testimony to His faithfulness. Speaking to the struggle of a life that measures beauty by unattainable standards. The testimony of freedom giving hope to those who seek His peace.

We remembered the woman with the issue of blood who pushed through a crushing throng as they surrounded Jesus. She just wanted to touch the hem of his robe. In the account in Luke 8:43-48, she takes the time to tell all who will listen about what Jesus did for her. Then He says this: “Daughter, be of good cheer; your faith has made you well. Go in peace.” (NKJV)

I am that woman


It's time for me to tell all who'll listen how He touched me. I no longer need to be afraid of those things that would try to keep me from Him. The hemorrhaging of my soul stopped as I pressed through throng of fear to touch His hem. He has released His healing power to renew the woman He always meant me to be.

As I stood in front of those women, testifying of His healing touch, the love of my Savior sank into their bones. The softened faces of dear sisters glistened with tears of faith and those who came for prayer went home in the arms of grace.

My heart is overflowing with gratitude for what He has brought me through. This journey is far from over with so much to learn ahead of me but I'm ready to speak life into those He brings my way. This is the beauty worth pursuing!

Isaiah 52:7a
"How beautiful upon the mountains
Are the feet of him who brings good news,
Who proclaims peace,
Who brings glad tidings of good things"

Always,

Hope

One of Those Days

There are days in your life that are memorable because they mark celebration or accomplishment.

Other days you know for the deep sorrow, pain, loss.

Today is one of those days.

Before the sun had risen on that day 23 years ago, I awoke to my father kneeling by my bed. I was staying with a family friend as we prepared for my wedding less that three weeks away. He sat there without tears, just the hollow expression on his tired face.

You always remember the words someone uses when they deliver sad news. "Your brother went home to be with the Lord." shocked but not utterly surprised. As I went to bed the night before, it had settled in my heart that the diagnosis given just four days prior was grim. Although he had flown in from his rural town to one of the world's best cancer hospitals, the diagnosis came too late to save him. God has a way of preparing our hearts. We just don't always recognize that.

My soon to be husband and i drove to his work to request a leave for a few days. While sitting in the cab of his El Camino I was amazed at how the cars next to us were filled with people going on with their days. It was so obvious to me that their world was still intact. It seemed as if the world was still going around us as I sat in a blur of grief laced emotion.

As the firstborn in our family, Glen had to navigate life on a path unfamiliar with the rest of us. Born in 1954 to a dad who had been raised by a single father became a prototype for the rest of us. Parenting theories were tested on him as were many of his generation. Thankfully we had one of those dads who was willing to work at being a better parent.

Reading was a struggle for him. Somehow the way he processed letters and words was off so he had to try harder. He had a fifth or sixth grade teacher who didn't give up on him. They came up with a system that allowed him to read more fluently. The influence of Mrs. E went far past elementary school.

My brother loved baseball. He didn't just go to the games, he actually kept score on the program each time we went. His love for the game was contagious. Even after he moved away, we rehashed the big plays on long distance calls back when you paid by the minute.

He didn't just pass on his love of sports. A love of George Winston's music, In-N-Out Burger and a passion for education were gifts he imparted. His belief in the underdog never went unnoticed by anyone who knew him.

As a gifted educator, he always encouraged me to follow my dream to teach. His voice is still in my head. While assisting in a sixth grade science class last week I thought of him the entire time. I could picture his interaction with each student. His odd sense of humor, twinkle in his eye and unmistakable compassion drew out the best in his students.

He left me his love for education. Although I never became a licensed teacher, I am an educator. He is often on my mind when I encounter students that need an extra dose of patience or a cheerleader to break through the feeling of impossible.

On the day of my wedding, during picture with my family. The photographer told us, "After this one, Mom and Dad will step aside and I'll take one with you and your brothers." I remember gasping, turning to my mother to exclaim "They're not all here!". She talked to him quietly and he took a break to "change film".

There have been countless moments since then when it is so obvious that he isn't here. When my grandmother passed away, we gathered for a "cousins" photo. Something was said about everyone being there. I turned to one brother and whispered, "Am I the only one that knows we aren't all here?" It hadn't escaped his notice either.

Today, as life goes on around me, while people get on with the business of their day, I am aware. Just as aware as I was on the day he left us that he is not here. We can think of all the helpful things about him being in our hearts, how we'll see him some day but I miss him. I always will.

Always,


Hope

Hurt People, Hurt People

Photo Courtesy: A Shared Lens

Being back in the ministry has brought so many lessons to learn on this journey. One of the most basic is Christ's ministry to reconcile us to Him and then to each other. There is beauty in reconciliation. Graciousness gives us freedom to move beyond emotional pain not only when we receive grace but when we extend it as well.

I've always wondered, why are some people so hurtful?
Why do they lash out with ease?
Where does the judgement come from?

They are broken

They are hurt

Hurt people hurt people

If we all could just grasp this idea, then maybe we can begin to help heal broken people instead of judge them. We can lead people out of their despair and into the loving arms of the One who was broken to heal our pain.

It is no question that the people we feel hurt by the deepest are the ones we love the most. So this thought came to mind this evening, what if, when we encounter someone who has hurt us, we reach for the love instead of the hurt?

We have a choice to reach into the place in us that will move growth forward or we can just stay in the pain to slide backwards into a pool of bitterness. It is our choice. To choose growth is to choose grace. It is to choose love.

Grace, unmerited favor doesn't wait for the pain to completely go away. It is the conduit of healing for that pain. When you extend love by offering grace, you invite wholeness into relationships and hearts.

Look into the face of a Savior who was beaten, spit on and crucified. He looked into the crowd as He asked for the forgiveness from a holy and righteous God. He showed love long before we repented and offered forgiveness before we asked. He came to save us from judgement, not bring judgement. We don't get to withhold grace because we don't think someone deserves it. We get to be gracious because someone doesn't deserve it.

Grace is part of love and healing and forgiveness and speaking life. Grace brings life.

Always,

Hope

What the Good Samaritan Taught Me

I try not to talk about what the church "isn't" doing, preferring to focus on what is good, pure, lovely, etc. Sometimes it is in the contrast that we see the beauty that is hidden. The true gift that community is supposed to be, sometimes needs a little help rising to the surface.

The Princess and I were sitting at the church office, visiting with our Guy when the youth pastor dropped in to ask a few questions. Part way into the conversation he looked over at our girl and said "She really should come to youth group. It would be good for the kids. She would really like it too." Wide eyed and choked up I pushed out an astonished "That would be great. She would love that, but how would we get her upstairs?" He replied "We would figure something out." Tears blurred my vision as I just sat stunned, overwhelmed, thankful, determined.

If you are new here you may not know that our sweetness uses a wheelchair. She doesn't speak, wears diapers and drools (sometimes profusely). We stash a rag on the back of her chair, an extra in one of her backpacks. Now she uses a g-tube to get all nutrition but a few years ago she was still using a bottle to to get any bit of nourishment we could literally squeeze into her body.

For four years we pastored in a small town about 20 minutes east of town. When it was time to return to our church home, we had to rethink more than just ministry. Our little girl was an infant when we left. Now she was old enough for the kid's programs.

The first Sunday back, I was excited for our sweet one to be with a large group of kiddos, singing, praising and worshiping. As the children gathered, the worship leader took her seat, I took The Princess out of her chair, sat her on the floor next to the others in front so she could see. I stepped to the back of the room to watch. The lady with the guitar acknowledged her, mentioning how happy she was to have here there.

When all the children had filed in, crossing their legs on the floor, the leader stood up, walked around to the back of the group telling them to get up and turn around to face her. It was kind of an exercise to get those in back to experience the front I suppose. My stomach completely dropped as the most vulnerable child, my own daughter, unable to turn herself around just sat there, facing no one. As tears burned, threatening to spill over on my hot cheeks, I  snatched her off the floor and carried her upstairs, leaving her wheelchair sitting empty, unnoticed, at the back of the room. Choking back tears, I declared to my husband, "I can't do this. This isn't going to happen. Please get us out of here." 

But we stayed.

For three more years we showed up. We would serve where we were allowed and participate where we were welcomed. Increasingly it became evident that those places were few. Even our beautiful daughter was not seen as a blessing but rather a burden. Even after offers of holding a training to demystify and quip others to enjoy her and other children with differences, it was clear, she was too much work. There "wasn't enough help" for her to be allowed to attend Sunday School. 

Can I explain something here? My daughter is the easiest child to care for in a contained amount of time. She doesn't misbehave, she can't run off, she doesn't disrupt the class and she LOVES all things Jesus. She loves other children, music and stories. Even then, it isn't just about her. All children benefit by being around a child who isn't just like them but that didn't happen because unless we were able to set up a special person to care for her, she was not allowed. For us, as long as we made it to first service, we were covered, if not there was only one other option. That was to take her in to church with us.

We would sit, pull her up on one of our laps and we would all worship. Then announcements would come. That was our cue to head out to the hallway. There were monitors there. We could crane our necks but at least we were getting to hear the teaching, right?

Well, that was great in theory but it is really hard to listen when everyone on their way to the bathroom or corralling a rowdy toddler wants to engage you in conversation. Where the rules inside were stifling, (every peep seemed frowned upon by leadership) the hallway was the opposite. There was no way to get in a full lesson. After a few weeks of this, we were spent. We were done.

It was then, at home in our office that I heard a sermon that poured into my emptiness. It gave me hope that there are still believers out there somewhere that really cared. They weren't there to preserve order in a five year old classroom but they were willing to get out, get messy and get real. I mean in the trenches where it is dirty, painfully, gut wrenching real.

They called their series "Church Without Walls". The speaker told the story of the "Good Samaritan". The man who was beat up and left to die on a roadside while people of his kind walked by on the other side of the street, ignoring his cry and his pain. It was left up to a man who by all accounts was an enemy to their people. This day, this story became new. It became real. It became my passion.

What really sunk in my gut for the first time was that "the church", is so busy doing good in the name of God that we don't see the aching souls around us. We don't see the hurting people in our midst. Some of us have gotten so focused on training our members to "minister" that we step over wounded souls on our way to endless retreats, seminars and conferences. We send our youth on trips to bordering countries to take part in church building projects to improve our own facilities. Very few are taught to serve in our own church body. The homeless in our own community are ignored. The disabled, addicted and grieving were avoided in order to get to our own causes.

We cried out for direction and our hollow sobs were heard. It was slow in our own eyes but perfect timing in retrospect.

Our new body of Christ followers welcomed us enthusiastically. They took us all in with grace and excitement. The children's team looked right past any differences to the pureness of heart in this precious person that scripture tells me is "fearfully and wonderfully made". Not only that, this new home has a vital ministry to the homeless that supports those who need healing from abuse, addiction and hopelessness.

It hasn't all been perfect. That's okay. Even in leaving our former place, it sparked movement in the hearts of some whose focus needed to be sharpened. Sometimes you need to make a bold movement to be heard.

The thing is, all of it, every bit of the journey, old, new, painful and joyous has led us to a deeper understanding of grace. We have a sweeter knowledge of a Saviour whose rejection was the passage to our salvation. If we had never walked that valley, how would  understand a family like ours? If we never knew indifference, how would we know the need for involvement within our own community?

The story of the Good Samaritan had become a new lesson for me. It is no longer just about being the Samaritan who loved his neighbor. It is about heading out to minister and not walking past those He has put in my reach. Those who need their wounds tended to along the way. I can no longer ignore the groans of those right here. Ministering in all parts of the world is still vital  but we need to be willing to attend to those on our way there.

Holding her own back pack
on the way to Mother's Day Brunch

Next month we celebrate the 13th year of life for our precious miracle. My baby is growing up. Hopefully her mommy is growing up too. We will hopefully have worked out a way to get her and a no longer tiny chair up to the youth room for Sunday morning youth church. I have suggested that we make a hole in the roof and have four kids lower her in on a blanket. The fact that there are those who want to try blesses me to my core.

Always,

Hope

What Rest Looked Like

Last week I posted my "before" of what I looked like heading into a time of rest by taking a short sabbatical from blogs, social media and the internet in general. It was a suggestion from SheLoves Magazine along with a gorgeous writing on grace. This was something I had been craving for some time without impetus to pursue it.

My initial temptation was to begin that day, jump in and just do it. I chose the better path. To actually plan ahead, making sure I didn't have any communication needs that might arise. I could truly cut myself off from all electronics in order to settle in to let my mind and spirit rest.

The morning started with my usual cup of coffee, The Princess was put on the bus for her last day of Summer School and I nestled into the quiet.

As steam swirled upward from my giant mug, I sunk back in to the pillows stacked on my headboard. Pretzel crossing my legs, I picked up my 27 year old bible, the one my Mom gave me when I was in the darkest days of my prodigal years. The binding is cracked halfway up from the bottom. I gingerly opened it to that day's reading and marveled at the peaceful simplicity of actually holding this treasure in my hands. This sacred book of hope and promise had been set aside in favor of the ease of picking up my iPod. Sometimes I would scroll through my daily readings, honestly many times I was checking Facebook. Even on the days I used it to read the bible, I was missing something.

Crinkling pages

Notes handwritten in the margins

Rainbow underlines

The feel of leather in my hands

Multiple senses engaging in a pursuit of intimacy with my God

As I slowly shifted into the sheets, I became reverent, peaceful and satisfied. This was a holy moment. Not my holiness but His filled the room. Sensing His presence all over again. Hearing the love He was speaking to me. Those things He is always saying but I am too busy to hear. Too often seeking the affirming words of others who are also hoping for the same thing. It was a priceless moment of feeling His touch. It fed me. It healed me. It moved me.

The entire time of rest that I had intentionally chosen, the separation from spiritual and emotional noise, lit a spark in my soul. Returned a hunger that I had forsaken. Without the one dimension of online interaction I was free to look into the face of a friend. We enjoyed a meal, laughter and an entire conversation with no breaks until it was time to go back home. But I didn't go straight home. I drove to the church office, just to get a glimpse of The Coffee Guy on the way home. To hold his hands, look into his eyes and bypass the usual text message, declaring my love in person. It blessed him, I could tell.

My time of abiding bore fruit. Sweetness I could share embodied in peace. In being settled with who I am and even better, whose I am.

This past weekend I returned from vacation. As I visited with friends and family, I did so with passion, with freedom. The best part was being able to value the moment. The gift of the present. The multidimensional world in front of me where emotions are not read into but felt together. The moments of missteps and miscues could be followed by real life grace and forgiveness. Living life in real time with a fresh perspective, that was true rest.

Always,

Hope

PS You should check out SheLoves Mag! There are so many lovely women who have something deep and meaningful to say and this month they are encouraging rest.

What Will Rest Look Like?

There are times when I feel so very tired. This week was one of those. I wasn't physically tired until my emotional weariness started settling in to my soul. It made me restless and I fought sleep. I was mentally exhausted, spiritually drained even. I was not completely spent like I have found myself in the past but I could feel myself heading that way. Digging deep and reaching out, I am finding strength.
Today I found a jewel at SheLove Magazine by Helen Burns. You can read it here. Such wisdom for all of us about taking on too much. I love this (okay, I loved it all but this stuck out): 
"Be a branch. Jesus is the Vine and I am simply a branch. Apart from Him, I can produce nothing. It serves the purpose of my life well to disconnect from everything else but never from Him who is my life. This demands being intentional about rest, recovery, restoration, replenishment, refueling which, in turn, will produce a personal revival."
Our home is located in a valley with beautiful vineyards in all directions. I don't have to look far to find vines loaded with beautiful grapes. As you walk up and down the rows there are two things thing that are true about each vine:
The grapes only grow off of the branches that are attached.
The branches aren't working at making fruit. The fruit is a natural outcome of abiding on the vine.
Those of us who consider ourselves part of the church must remember that we are called to rest in Him. If who have answered the call to follow Christ, you must be careful to abide. The fruit will come naturally. It is not our job to produce the fruit. Even in ministry, we need to be reminded to draw in before giving out.
Helen issued this invitation: "I want to invite you, also, to be intentional about finding rest and peace for your soul–to embrace Sabbath rest into your life."

Psalms 62:1 I wait quietly before God,

    for my victory comes from him.

2 He alone is my rock and my salvation,

    my fortress where I will never be shaken.

There is a challenge to take a 24 hour sabbatical from the internet to seek rest in Him. The assignment is to write and share about it after. I decided that this would be my before picture and when I am done, you can be sure I will share my after.
Read more about this challenge at SheLoves Magazine. I hope you'll join me!
Always,


Hope

I Need Him Still

Yesterday I wrote that I need Him. I need Him just as much when the joy in my heart is overflowing. Today, I need His presence still. Yesterday I needed Him on the mountaintop, today I need Him in the valley.


Last night, I found out that someone dear to me has betrayed my trust. A relationship that I thought was solid is (at the moment) on shaky ground. So I must trust Him. 


I have to obey Him when He tells me I must forgive. I must believe Him when He says that I can do all things through Him because He will give me strength. He tells me to love my neighbor and that means "keeping no record of wrongs" and "love endures all things" and it "hopes all things".


So today, I will lean in to Him. I will spend time in His presence soaking in the peace that the God of Love has for me. The hollow place in my soul will be filled with His Spirit. In this place, I will find the strength to forgive, to love and to heal.


Always,


Hope

50 Days to 50 - Strength to Push Through

Days 15, 16 and 17

"Sometimes" Pooh said "The smallest things
take up the most room in your heart"

This is one of those weeks of my life I will never forget

I'm not sure if I want to if that even makes sense

It wasn't memorable for the right reasons

No one has been able to make sense of it

We've all tried

He was full term

8 lbs 1 oz, 21 inches long

Plump arms, perfect hands and feet

He is gone

No one could stop it

It is still hard to believe

Today we said our goodbyes

Doctors, nurses, friends and family gathered

We cried together and we cried some more

This was an infant

There was no funny stories

No anecdotes from his life

We prayed, we mourned and we comforted

I conducted my first infant funeral

We sent balloons to the sky

Now we look for purpose

We lean on each other for strength

We push past the whys

We hold on to hope

We rejoice that one day, we will see him again

He will be whole

Always,

Hope

(NOTE: This is my Jubilee year. Scripture speaks of this year as a time for restoration and debts to be cancelled. I see it as a time to reflect and to count my blessings. Knowing how precious life is and how miraculous it is, I want to write about His goodness.)

50 Days to 50 - Destiny

Day 14

Courtesy of Sheila Nielsen

I am a firm believer that we all have a purpose and a destiny. Every person on this earth has a reason for being here no matter how long they are here or how very brief, we all have value. We all bring something and we all leave something.

I believe that we have a loving Creator that knows our pain and may not always take us out of our situations but will always offer comfort. The more I get to know Him, the more I trust His heart. These trials, in our eyes seem long but in eternity are just a glimpse. His love for us is so strong that even He himself sacrificed His Only Son so that we could experience eternity in His presence.
Yesterday, I had the honor and privilege to be with a sweet baby boy as he briefly visited this earth. Although his time here was short, his destiny was something much greater than we may ever know. It is doubtful that his family will ever understand why but I pray that the comfort of knowing that their wee one is now cradled in the arms of the God of Love will help those most keenly touched, get through. Our hearts are all heavy and his story is greater than anyone could have imagined. His destiny may have only begun.


Always,




Hope


(NOTE: This is my Jubilee year. Scripture speaks of this year as a time for restoration and debts to be cancelled. I see it as a time to reflect and to count my blessings. Knowing how precious life is and how miraculous it is, I want to write about His goodness.)

50 Days to 50 - Lessons Learned from Fiery Trials

Day 9

Mt Baldy

The above photo was taken from one of my favorite places in the world to go away and get alone. I made countless trips up that mountain during my 20's  to push my "reset button". When life would head sideways, I would climb into my little red car to wind my way up the curvy road as George Winston's music filled my soul. Sometimes I would take a picnic with friends, others were just for me to breathe in fresh air to clear the confusion from my mind. Many times it was my sanctuary. It was a place I could count on hearing from God.

Sadly, on my last visit, (it had been about 20 years) I discovered that a fire had wiped out the entire mountain the year before. It was already growing back but would never be the same.

Wildfires have a way of changing the landscape in irrevocable ways but that isn't all bad. Oftentimes the underbrush becomes so thick that new growth can't survive. When a fire occurs, it cleans out dead brush, allowing for sprouts of newness to grow up and become strong. There is no doubt that in the process, the landscape changes forever. Along with the loss comes life and a chance for a fresh start.

Aren't our lives that way? Don't we all have things in our lives that feel it is just too hot? Some experiences are even "fiery trials" that make us feel as we will never survive. These are the times when we find shelter in an all knowing God who continues to be strengthen and freshen us. All the time we feel as if we are being destroyed. Survival seems doubtful. Any hope of quality seems to be demolished but that isn't the whole story.

That is the blessing I am counting today. Trusting His heart for me. No matter what the trials are, I will continue to seek the one who pours Himself out for me. When I am parched, I'll let His Living Water quench my thirsty soul. Although my landscape will change, what grows back will be healthy, vibrant and lush. My desire is that I will be a place of quiet rest. My heart will be ready to rejuvenate others and my life will be used of God to create a place to find His refuge.

Always,

Hope

(NOTE: This is my Jubilee year. Scripture speaks of this year as a time for restoration and debts to be cancelled. I see it as a time to reflect and to count my blessings. Knowing how precious life is and how miraculous it is, I want to write about His goodness.)

Soothing My Soul

Worship is one of the things I love most about Sunday mornings. The gathering together of the saints to celebrate our Saviour and to encourage one another in the faith is priceless. I know that the freedom to meet together should never be taken for granted so every time we can, we do. (We don't meet out of obligation but out of pure joy!)
Yesterday, the worship team led one song that struck a chord in particular. There is actually a story behind it for me.
When my mom passed away, as we planned her memorial, I requested two songs that we would sing all together. "Because He Lives" reminded me that God would give us the strength to get through. I also chose it because Mom loved that song. We sang it at my niece's service many years ago and Mom found comfort there. I remember her telling me so.
The second song was "Blessed Be Your Name" written by Beth and Matt Redman. It had already been a balm to my soul and I wanted to share it with my family. The middle verses were especially perfect following 11 years of watching her battle a long drawn out illness that stole her away bit by bit.

"Blessed be Your name

When the sun's shining down on me

When the world's 'all as it should be'

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering

Blessed be Your name"

During the service the piano started to play and I knew within three notes, the old hymn, "Blessed Be THE Name" was ringing out. The pastor leaned over and began to profusely apologize. He had even checked with me ahead of time to make sure but somewhere along the line, the worship leader got it mixed up. The song I wanted to share, would stay tucked away.

So yesterday, as we have so many times since that day, I had another chance to soak it in, to sing it out and to once again feel the comfort of the Spirit pouring through me. Instead of this song taking me back to a most difficult day, it takes me forward, closer and more intimate with the Saviour whose name truly is blessed. No matter where my road leads, no matter what the path holds for me, "my heart will choose to say, blessed be your name".

Always,

Hope

Taking Thoughts Captive

I am constantly reminded of God's principles. I believe His teachings are meant to bless me and certainly His Word gives me direction I can trust to keep me on the right path. The Scriptures hold the keys to not only spiritual health but emotional fitness as well.
When 2 Corinthians 10:5b (NKJV) states: "...bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ" it gives us a plan to move forward when we can barely move. When our past paralyzes us, when we can't seem to get a grip on forgiveness or bitterness, He gives us the answer.
So how do we move forward? How do we allow ourselves to move on when pain haunts us? The mandate seems simple, but anyone who needs to move on, knows its not. The key is that we can't do it alone.
A couple of posts back I discussed how my daughter was kidnapped during a carjacking. For days I couldn't close my eyes without seeing the van drive away with my helpless daughter inside. Other times I could hear myself screaming as loud as I possibly could "He has my baby! Please help me! He took my baby!!" The panic would set in and sleep eluded me. After being home for one night, dealing with a virus and being offered sleeping pills at the immediate care, I knew I had to seek another answer.
I called a friend who reminded me to take my thoughts captive. In pursuing the  "how to" in the past I was given a great picture. Light and dark cannot dwell in the same place. To entertain the darkness and allow it to stay was inviting the consequences of those thoughts. Depression, fear, anger and unforgiveness are just a few of the emotions that can take over our lives and steal our peace. To allow the to take up residence is detrimental to our spiritual lives as well. The only recourse is to bring in the light. Allow it to penetrate our thoughts and minds.
At these times of distress, the Lord would bring back to me the familiar verses I had memorized in my younger years. One of Mom's favorite passages brings great wisdom and strength: Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things." (Philippians 4:8, New King James Version) The New American Standard Version tells us to "dwell on these things".
This one concept has brought me more freedom over the years than I can adequately express. In the areas of forgiveness,  grief and overcoming traumatic events. After working three years in the emergency room, there were a lifetime of memories that no one wants to keep. Don't get me wrong, the way our minds works, thoughts will pass through, images will still flash in my mind, but they no longer linger. They are sent into captivity to be replaced with the peace of a loving Savior who suffered more on the day He gave His life for me than I will ever experience on this earth.
Do you have dark places in your life that need to be removed? Do you seek to be healed of the past? Have you been seeking the healer of all hurts?

Always,

Hope

Are You Being Poisoned?

There are a few members of my family that enjoy a good crime drama. True life crime stories are just as fascinating. What amazes me is the lengths that some will go to in order to trap their victims. Poison can be one of the most difficult methods to detect. Did you know that poison can be sweet? It can be hidden in everyday food so its not detected by the target or those observing.

I'm finding that bitterness can permeate our everyday life in the same way. Sometimes through speech, our thought life and interactions with others.  Its often not obvious but can be slowly interjected into everyday conversation. We relay stories involving perceived hurts we have endured at the hands of others or we listen to such tales. The next thing we know we have picked up an offense against another. That is when the bitterness starts to take root. It doesn't take much to make it grow.

Bitterness is much easier to detect when an obvious fault has been perpetrated but it is no less poisonous in those cases. It destroys just as much and makes it easier for us to justify. So what is the antidote? How do we  keep from being contaminated?

In Exodus 15:23-25, the only source of water for the Israelites is in a place called Marah which is literally translated "bitter". The Lord showed Moses a tree to cast into the water which became not only drinkable but sweet.

What a fantastic picture! When we are presented with pools of bitterness, we are to call out to the giver of life. Some would even say that the wood represents the cross being placed in the midst of the bitter pool to make it sweet. Even better, Jesus heals the hurts and offers sweet living water.

When the negative comments or thoughts come in a trickle, when they are disguised as sharing concerns or getting support for the hurts someone has endured, we still have to call on the one who can make bitter things sweet. He can heal the hurtful words and keep them from killing off relationships. He can keep us from poisoning ourselves as well as keep us from injuring others.

There are at least two keys that will keep a root of bitterness from growing, one is forgiveness, the second is taking thoughts captive.
Forgiveness is addressed in Ephesians. Verses 4:31,32 admonish us "³¹ Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. ³² And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you." When we think of all that Christ has forgiven us for,  its sobering to think of the petty things (in contrast) that we hold onto.
Do you have little things that have sprouted up in your life? Do you have unforgiveness that needs to be addressed? Is today the day to search your heart for those things that only God can turn sweet?

Always,

Hope

Up next: Forgiveness and taking thoughts captive.

Seeing The Season Through Grief's Filter

I have amazing memories of the Christmas season. My feelings of anticipation are colored by the warmth it pours into my soul every year. The giving, the celebration, traditions and making memories are always things I look forward to when Christmas rolls around. Adding to the joy, I became engaged to the Coffee Guy (at that time the FedEx® Man) on Christmas Eve and three years later gave birth to my Ray of Sunshine the day after Christmas not to mention the Princess was brought home from her birth state in December as well.
Those things will still bring joy this year though at times it is muted by the pain of this being the first Christmas without my mother. Even when she lived far away, there was the trip to Macy's to see Marsha (the sweet sales clerk with years of experience) to pick out the right outfit. There will be no phone call or anticipated pictures from my Dad. Instead, this year, we will pick out a special ornament that represents her. We will think of some of the great gifts she made or found for each of us. Gladness will fill our hearts when we picture her first Christmas in Heaven and sadness will spill in tears down our cheeks when we face the empty void in our hearts.
I am aware that I am not the first person to lose their Mom, nor do I believe it was the most tragic of losses. She lived a good long life and left a beautiful legacy. What I do know that it is our lives will never be the same. Christmas this year won't be quite as vibrant and I need to keep reminding myself that little things will seem bigger. My emotions may seem unstable but its from a heart that is still healing.
To my fellow bloggers who have experienced loss this year, I pray for God's comfort to envelope us and for His peace to heal our wounded hearts.

Always,

Hope