The Key is in the Lock

On Christmas Eve, 2011, as I cleaned up the dishes in the house where I have lived for over 20 years, I noticed for the first time that the antique looking door handles on my kitchen cabinets are made to resemble antique locks with the keys inserted.  That is amazing for several reasons. 

When Jimmy and I moved into this house we were not into antiques.  It was not until the kids got older and we ventured on outings with just the two of us that we began to frequent antique shops.  We slowly found a love for all things mission style from the Arts & Crafts Movement.  We began replacing our “modern” furniture with 100+ year old chairs and bookcases made of wonderful quarter sawn oak.

More recently Jimmy and I have been drawn to antique locks with the skeleton keys.  We have not been able to afford to buy any locks – they are quite expensive and desirable to collectors – but we have collected some keys.  Some are simple, utilitarian keys; some have ornate designs on the handle shaped like hearts or Victorian gingerbread.  And now I realize that this new interest, keys and locks has been staring me in the face for over twenty years.  How sweet of God to put in there years before it meant anything to me, before I could even recognize what it was, so that now I would receive it as yet another kiss from the Father.

Another development in our ever changing lives has been learning to hear God’s voice through our eyes, ears and hearts.  So when God pointed out the keys and locks on my kitchen cabinets today, I knew he was saying something special to me. As I got ready to  head up to the Christian bookstore for some last minute Christmas gifts I spied on my dresser a flameworked glass key that Jimmy had made on the torch for me.  I have been wearing it on a ribbon as a pendant.  I felt God wanted me to bring the key to the bookstore and give it to the manager, Don. Sadly, the store is going out of business after being the only Christian bookstore in the area for many years.  Jimmy and I had met Don a few weeks earlier and prayed over him for God to guide and show him the next chapter in his life. 

As I drove up the parkway I felt that God gave me the rest of the message.  I felt he was saying to me, “The key is in the lock; all you have to do is turn the key”.  Antique locks are wonderful and I would have been happy to see antique locks on my cabinet doors.  I would have been equally delighted to see handles shaped like antique keys.  But what I had was the complete package, the key right in the lock, ready to be turned, ready to open the new door, the treasure chest, the next page of my life.  It was his promise to me of his provision for the New Year.  It was his promise to the Church for her future assignments.  It was his promise to Don.  He has already given us the keys to unlock the challenges, mysteries, and assignments in front of us. 

I shared the words with Don.  I share the words now with you.  Dear Ones, embrace what God is placing in front of you.  Don’t be upset or worried about how you’re going to pull it off.  The key is already in the lock.  All you have to do is turn the key.  

Who's Your Daddy?

I remember the daddy of my childhood before my parents’ divorce in one fearful episode after the other.  I was afraid of my dad.  He was the capricious, angry authority, and you had to try to discern his mood before approaching him.  When Dad disciplined my brother one time, he took him upstairs to my parents’ bedroom and shut the door.  Although I did not see what went on I could hear my brother rolling across the floor as Dad threw him around the room, and my brother’s screams.  No wonder all five of us kids tiptoed around our dad.

I heard a pastor on the radio recently, talking about how when he heard his twin girls stirring upstairs in their room in the mornings, he would station himself at the bottom of the stairs.  When the girls emerged from their room to come down to breakfast, they would find their daddy, his arms flung wide and a huge smile on his face, waiting to enfold them in his arms.  What a very different memory those little girls will have of their dad, then I have of mine.

Thankfully, I no longer walk about as a victim of a misguided parent.  I know about the loveless upbringing my dad experienced, and I forgive him for mistakes he made.  But more than choosing not to act as a victim, or to forgive, is the fact that I am the daughter of another Father now, and I am walking in that identity.  It wasn’t an immediate realization for me when I first accepted the right God offered me to be called his child.  There were still plenty of times I tiptoed around God so as not to offend him, and tried to win his favor by doing good works.  But now I know that he’s my Daddy. 

God is the perfect Daddy.  I don’t have to hide from him, since he always knows what I am doing, what I am thinking.  I don’t disappoint him, since disappointment only results from someone not meeting your expectations for them (as so wonderfully put in The Shack).  God always knows what I am going to do whether wise or foolish, so there are no expectations involved, no disappointment that follows.  Sorrow sometimes, yes, for when I don’t choose the good things he has for me, but not disappointment in me.  Like the pastor daddy, God’s arms are always flung wide to embrace me.

And I don’t have to earn my Daddy’s favor to get in his good graces.  I know that all he wants from me is to trust him, to believe him.  The bible tells me (Hebrews 11:6) that it’s my faith that pleases him, not trying to do everything right, to perform for him. 

So here I am, loved by my Father, secure in my relationship as his chosen, adopted daughter.  I know who my Daddy is. 

Pikachu, Pikachu! Daddy’s girl, Daddy’s girl!

This morning I was helping my eight year old grandson, Owen establish his own blog where he intends to publish original Pokemon stories. Now I have to confess, I know very little about Pokemon.  But as we were researching, we discovered another Pokemon themed blog by a guy named Bob who explained something very amazing about Pokemon.  Bob states: 

“Each Pokemon has a name.  If you don’t catch what the name is, the little monster will helpfully tell you all the time.  That’s how they communicate.  Dogs bark, cats meow, Pokemon say their name.  They say it happily, sadly; they can say their names with more inflections than a surfer can say  ‘dude’.” http://radioflyer1980.wordpress.com/2009/05/29/pikachu-gesundheit/

So I asked Owen these questions:  Does a Pikachu say “pikachu, pikachu” because he is a pikachu?  Or is he a pikachu because he says “pikachu, pikachu”? Owen says, he’s a Pikachu first, and that’s why he speaks his name.  It’s all about identity.

What do I speak that lets people around me know who I am, even if they have never met me or known me?  What do my words say about who I am?  Do I walk around saying “life stinks”, or “woe is me”, or “why do the other people always win and I always lose”.  Do my words and inflection communicate that I feel like I am worthless or unloved?  Sometimes, regretfully, they do.

But that is not who I am.  So I need to take a lesson from Pokemon and start reminding myself of who I am and make sure that my words communicate that not only to those around me, but to myself as well.  Let me start here and now with these words, “said”, as Bob suggests, with a joyous, exuberant inflection, (can you hear it?): “Daddy’s girl! Daddy’s girl”. 

That is who I am.  I am a child of the Most High God, adopted into his family, precious to his heart, with all the rights of sonship/daughership including an amazing inheritance guaranteed by the deposit of his Holy Spirit living in me now.

What’s your name?

Disarmed and Dangerous.

God just did some amazing things in my family, and totally blew me away.  I was left feeling disarmed before God.  Which means that prior to this week, I was armed before God.  Let me explain.

Did you ever want something really bad, but you were afraid to ask for it, much less to hope for it?  It’s like you were holding yourself back from really going all out for what your heart was craving, because you just knew you’d never have it.  It’s like arming yourself against disappointment.

Sometimes I arm myself against disappointment, even in my prayers.  I may pray the religiously acceptable way of “Your will be done”.  That, after all, is a biblical way to pray, right? Jesus himself prayed that way in the Garden of Gethsemane.  But sometimes, if I look deep into my own heart I find that I am praying that way because I am believing lies that trap me more often than I care to admit.  “Heal that person, if it be your will,” I pray, when I am too fearful to ask for total healing based on God's word that says “By his stripes (on the cross) we are healed.”  I know he can heal, but seem to waiver on whether he wants to or not.  Such capriciousness is not what a good God looks like.  So I realize I am acting on the belief that God is not good, or that he doesn’t care, which means he doesn’t really love me. 

So when God did some major healing work in my family recently, I found myself dropping my defenses before him.  I realized that when he does things his way, the results are astounding.  I realized that I had no reason to hold myself back in safe praying, safe living anymore.  I could trust this amazing God to do what I never imagined would happen.  And do it without any help from me! 

I want to be the trusting child who comes before her daddy, asks for big things and trusts him to do big things.  He has shown me who he is, and now asks me to trust him for tomorrow, and the weeks to come.   

Come Alongside: This marvelous thing called prayer!

Recently a girlfriend I look up to asked me to come along on a speaking engagement she had, to support her and pray for her and share as I felt led.  I was so honored and blessed to be invited to be her “right hand gal” that day, and rejoiced with her when her words opened so many hearts that day.

I was reminded today about how God also invites me to come along with him on his “engagements”, to support him and pray with him about what he is doing.  I am so honored that he trusts me with the things on his heart, just like my girlfriend.

When the prophet, Daniel was in captivity in Babylon he understood from the prophecies of other prophets before him that the 70 year captivity was nearing its end.  Instead of just sitting back, relieved that God’s people would soon be going home to Israel, Daniel fasted and prayed for the exiles’ release from Babylon and return to Israel.  Why would he pray for what God has already promised and agreed to do?  In the natural, that scenario is quite odd.  If your friend tells you she is going to take you to a concert for your birthday, you don’t ask her or remind her again and again to take you to the concert.  But that is what Daniel did.  He took the prophecy, the revelation of what God intended to do, as God’s invitation for him to come alongside and pray the thing through.  So it is that God puts the desires of his own heart on those ones who are seeking him, and they get to pray in those things to completion, and then rejoice at the outcome.

So we sing and pray, “Break my heart for what breaks yours”, oh, God, and we will rejoice with you as your will is done on earth as it is in heaven.

Say What You See

Nanette caught the bug.

My friend, Nanette has attended only two weeks of “sewing class” at my home on Monday nights, but she has definitely caught the bug.  Although her only sewing experience was in home ec. class a thousand years ago, she is piecing together blocks for 3 different quilts at the same time. 

I saw the first set of blocks all sewn together, bright orange and yellow lion and tiger blocks with a brown and black starry print in between, and it was amazing.  I love that first glimpse of what a finished project is going to look like, and the excitement that wells up inside.  I imagine that Nanette is experiencing that “quilting high” right now, standing back and looking at what her two hands have done in so short a time.  What Nanette may not yet know is that there is still a lot of work before the quilt is done.  Hopefully, the glimpse of what will be is enough to keep her going to the finish line.

These thoughts about Nanette and her quilts were going through my mind this morning as I prepared the binding for one of my own quilts.  God has just done some amazing things for me, things that I have been desperately crying out for in prayer.  Not that the entire situation is completely resolved, but the amazing changes that have happened in the past two days have taken my breath away.  The Father brought Nanette and her amazing accomplishments to mind this morning and asked me the same questions I was asking about Nanette. 

“I am showing you what I am doing, just a glimpse for now,” the Father told me. “Can you keep on trusting me that I can, and will give you the finished work?”

I am reminded of four simple words spoken by Prophet Chuck Pierce at a meeting in Manahawkin, NJ earlier this year:  “Say what you see.”   Pierce was urging God’s people to listen to what God is saying, and then to speak out, declare out loud what they are seeing.  I have given you a picture of some fabric blocks sewn together to help you imagine the beautiful quilt to come.  What are you dreaming about?  What do you see?  Is it a ministry to the homeless in Ocean County?  Restored relationships in your marriage and/or family?  A 24 day prayer journey throughout Europe? A community of artists releasing God’s heart through prophetic art?  Speak, declare it out loud so God’s family can join with you in trusting God to accomplish that dream. 

In our faith community may we continually remind each other of who we are – people entrusted with God’s heart and vision; and who we serve - the God who is in the business of calling into being things that are not, as though they were.  Let us be about the “family business”, which is, after all, the business of hope.

A Runner after God's Own Heart

My brother, Dave traveled to New Jersey this past week to participate in the Atlantic City Marathon.  He finished the 26 mile course in just under five hours, in keeping with his goal.  The larger goal on his mind, however, is to run a marathon in every state.  Atlantic City marked Dave’s 22nd state.

As I went about my business on Sunday morning, October 16^th, I kept thinking of Dave running in Atlantic City, praying for his safety, praying for his influence in that rather dark place.  I kept thinking that there was some significance to Dave making the investment of time and resources to drive from Michigan to New Jersey, some 600 miles, to run for five hours in Atlantic City.  “Please, God,” I prayed, make every step of his race effective, transforming in that place.

I was reminded of the promise that God gave first to Moses, then to Joshua: 

Every place where you set your foot will be yours: Your territory will extend from the desert to Lebanon, and from the Euphrates River to the western sea. Deuteronomy 11:24

Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, just as I promised to Moses. Joshua 1:3

Could it be that the thousands of times Dave’s Nike running shoes hit the pavement in Atlantic City on Sunday, October 16, 2011, between 8:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. that God’s “ownership” of that city and region was being established?  What can happen when a man after God’s own heart makes an investment in a region? 

So I pray this morning for Atlantic City, New Jersey, and for the other 22 states where this runner after God’s own heart has run, invested and prayed.  May God’s ownership of each city be established; may circumstances and atmosphere change over Atlantic City; may unemployment and poverty be abolished in this sad place; may crime diminish as the knowledge of God’s ways and thoughts become important to the residents there. May salvation come to Atlantic City, New Jersey, in Jesus’ name.

What Does Love Look Like?

I was reading this morning in John 13 about when Jesus washed his disciples’ feet.  Knowing who he was, knowing he was God, knowing that the Father had placed all things under his power, knowing that he was about to be betrayed, knowing all these things, he laid aside his outer garments, girded himself with a towel and began washing the dirt off of his disciples’ dusty feet.

As I mused on the passage my mind kept coming back to a story I heard recently from a friend of mine who is a live-in caretaker for the disabled.  My friend told me that she and her then current charge were at odds and she had gone to her room to pray, and not allow her mouth to speak out of what she was feeling, hurt and rejected by the one she served.  Then she heard the elderly woman in the hall bathroom, crying softly.  My friend had to go to her.  She was as always, my friend’s first priority.  She found her charge standing in the bathroom covered in her own feces, tears of shame streaming down her face, helpless to clean herself up, and too ashamed to call the one she had been quarreling with to come and help her.

            “I have lost my dignity!” the lady wailed.

            “Since when does dignity come out of your rear end?” my friend countered.  “Your dignity is up here.”  She tapped her forehead and got to work cleaning up her charge.

            My friend was hurt, feeling rejected, but put aside all of that to love and serve the one God had placed in her life.

            “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:34.  As missionary, Heidi Baker teaches, love the One, and then love the one in front of you. That is what Jesus did, even loving Judas who was about to betray him.  Loving Peter, who would deny that he even knew Jesus only hours later, Jesus, the Son of the Living God knelt down and washed Peter's, and Judas' dirty feet.

            Who would you have me love today, Daddy?  Make me ready, armed with knowing who I am to you, ready to serve and stoop down to lift someone else up, to clean up the traffic off of someone’s feet, or the waste of life off of someone’s body, to love as you love.

Sprinkled, Not Poured

Jesus said that we are to be the salt of the earth.  But as Pastor Glenn Swank of Barnegat Bay Assembly of God recently taught his congregation, if you dump the whole salt shaker on one bite, you ruin the steak.  So God sprinkles the salt, disburses his kids, his salt, like dandelion seeds propelled by the breeze, to add his flavor, his presence in many situations. 

As you walk the rows of tents at certain arts and crafts festivals, you may encounter some salt when you stop at the arched tent with a sign reading, “Lampworked Art Glass by Jim Spaloss”. It may be the gleam of the glass dancing in the sunlight that draws your eye to the sparkling beads and sculptures.  But you may well get more than you bargained for when you pick up the gold-streaked, pink glory bead, or run your fingers over the raised droplets on the glistening dew drop bead.  You may get a story about how God’s glory shows up in ordinary people, just like clear glass turns pink when fumed with 22 karat gold; or about refreshing dew that does not evaporate in the heat of the day; or about an artist who worships God as he sculpts glass. You may get a word of encouragement.  You may receive a prayer for your insomnia or your upcoming back surgery.  You may even get a hug from someone who five minutes earlier was a stranger to you.

Any or all of these treasures you may receive at this salt-filled artist’s booth, whether or not you make a purchase.  The sign reads, “art glass”, but hope is dispensed here.  Come, buy and eat, you who have no money.  Come feast on Jesus, for “the one who feeds on me will live because of me”. John 7:57

What I Want to be When I Grow Up…

I saw my daughter-in-law, Nicole’s comment on facebook this week about a conversation she overheard between her daughter, Jessie, age 10, her friend, Kaeli, and her two sons, Ryan, age 5, and Zach, age 3:

“Earlier today-- Jessie says ‘I want to be an artist when I grow up’. Kaeli (my friend’s daughter that I was watching) says, ‘me too’.  Ryan says, ‘I want to be a teacher’.  Zach says, ‘I want to be a little kid’.  Ha ha!”

I laughed when I read it.  It’s so fun to listen to the kids interact.  But as I continued to muse on the conversation, I decided I had to side with Zach.  I, too want to be a little kid when I grow up. 

A little kid is trusting.  He is usually pretty happy.  It doesn’t take a whole lot to light up his face with a smile.  Sometimes just a lollipop or a kiss will do it.  And when he’s hurt or scared, he knows where to go. 

I was talking with my daughter, Rachel recently about how I find myself becoming more childlike these days.  Rachel knows about some of my special favorites and has taught the grandchildren well.  They know that if they collect a bag full of acorns for Grandma she will ooh and ahh like it’s treasure in the bag.  If they bring in a couple of pinecones, Grandma will put them as a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  They squeal and point when they see a ladybug because they know Grandma adores ladybugs.  They decorate my birthday cards with ladybugs of all shapes and sizes.  They even got me ladybug charms for my crocs.  I used to quietly enjoy these things, but now I make no bones about letting people know that acorns and pinecones and ladybugs, and a whole lot of other things, delight my soul.  Part of the reason I dance around about these things is that I am getting used to who I am, who God made me.  And I accept the pinecones and acorns and ladybugs as God’s special kisses to me since he, too knows what makes me smile.

So, yeah, Zach, I want to be a kid when I grow up, too.  I want to be basically happy with life, trusting my heavenly Daddy to take care of me and give me not only what I need, but often the pinecones, acorns and ladybugs that I want.  And if I’m ever hurt or scared, I want to always know I can run into Daddy’s arms.   

BEADS IN THE BAG

Missionary, Heidi Baker tells the best stories of how God shows up in her life.  Last week in Washington’s Crossing, PA she decided to share the “beads in the bag” story.  “This is not a story I tell very often,” she said. “But I feel I am supposed to share it with you tonight.”

The story goes that a visiting doctor was serving with her in Mozambique one Christmas. She and her team had invited everyone to a Christmas party, and I mean everyone.  She invited all the children of her village, of course.  But she also invited the addicts, the alcoholics, the prostitutes, the poor, the destitute, anyone who would come.  She handed out gifts to every one of them, even the ones who had been harassing the young men in training on her team.  Then there was one group of young girls left awaiting their gifts.  Heidi heard that the girls wanted beads, so she whispered to the doctor assisting her, “The girls wants beads.” 

Heidi told how the doctor looked at her as if she was crazy.  She and Heidi both knew that the only gifts left in the big black garbage bags were stuffed dogs, used stuffed dogs.  “The girls wants beads”, Heidi repeated to the doctor, several times and then she waited.  Suddenly the doctor screamed.  “There’s beads in the bag, beads in the bag, beads in the bag,” she chanted.  Heidi and the doctor distributed God’s beads to some very happy girls that Christmas Day.

I know lots of people, myself included, who need or want something very badly.  Maybe it’s a dream of what you always wanted to be when you grew up, but you’re stuck in a dead end job just to pay the bills.  Maybe it’s a relationship that you are longing for.  Maybe it’s a roof over your head and food on the table, healing from an incurable disease, relief from depression, or escape from addiction.  But you know there’s only old stuffed dogs in your bag.  Or maybe not.  Maybe God is really big enough and good enough to open his hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.(Ps. 145:16)  So I take Heidi’s story and say, “Do it again, God!”  Turn those old stuffed dogs into shelter for the homeless, mortgage money and jobs for the folks out of work, family for the lonely ones, lifting of depression, release from addiction, or even beads for a group of little girls who just want to feel pretty and special.

War by....Paintbrush?

I recently heard an interesting teaching by Bill Johnson in his book, Dreaming with God*. Johnson was talking about how God has used creativity throughout history to reflect his glory.  Take Solomon for example, that man who chose wisdom when God gave him a blank check to ask for anything he wanted.  The scriptures tell how the Queen of Sheba heard of Solomon’s wisdom and came to check it out for herself. 

“And when the queen of Sheba had seen all Solomon's wisdom, and the house that he had built, and the meat of his table, …his ministers, and their apparel, … his ascent by which he went up unto the house of the LORD; there was no more spirit in her..” (1 Kings 10:4-5)  The Message version says, “it took her breath away”.

Bill Johnson notes that the queen recognized wisdom not only by how Solomon answered the many questions she presented to him:  “The queen of Sheba was stunned by how wisdom affected simple things like clothing, buildings, and the like.” (Johnson, Dreaming with God, p. 44) She saw wisdom in the architecture of Solomon’s palace, the cuisine on his table, the clothing worn by his servants, and even the staircase he built to go up to worship the Lord.  Why was she left breathless over these seemingly finite creations?  These acts of Solomon were the byproducts of the creative wisdom that had been gifted to him by God. 

And just why would Almighty God want to cause people to be breathless over a work of art, or a gourmet meal?  Johnson goes on to describe a scene of spiritual warfare as recorded in Zechariah 1:18-21.     
 Then I lifted up my eyes …and behold, there were four horns.  So I said to the angel who was speaking with me, “What are these?” And he answered me, “These are the horns which have scattered Judah, Israel and Jerusalem.”  Then the LORD showed me four craftsmen.  I said, “What are these coming to do?” And he said, “These are the horns which have scattered Judah so that no man lifts up his head; but these craftsmen have come to terrify them, to throw down the horns of the nations who have lifted up their horns against the land of Judah in order to scatter it.”
In the quoted vision, God’s people, the Jews were being strong-armed by four horns, four “abusive authorities and powers” (Johnson, p. 42).  God’s answer is somewhat incredible.  He raises up four craftsmen, four artistic, creative persons to terrify and throw down the abusers.  “Not since God first sent a choir into war (see 2 Chronicles 20:21) has there been such an outlandish strategy for battle,” Johnson quips. (Johnson, p. 43).  Johnson explains that when God’s people allow his works to flow through the gifts God has given them, the enemies of God become breathless, much like the queen of Sheba.  God’s people walk in their true identity and authority, and God’s identity, authority and superiority are revealed.

God has gifted his church with an amazing number of artists, musicians, writers, and craftsmen.   Think on this concept with me.  How does God want to establish my identity, and his authority through his wisdom expressed in my gifting? The things we build with the creative wisdom given to us by God, those works may well be part of the warfare of God designed to release his authority on the earth.  Think of it, God’s dominion released through our art, like Ria Mignano’s paintings, Jim Spaloss’ blown glass glory beads.  The nature of God somehow displayed through the foods we prepare, such as Brett Conover’s amazing pot roast, and Penny Kellow’s comforting lasagna.  God’s plans revealed through Barry Brindisi’s blog, or Jamie Moffet’s original music.  Even the clothing we wear, Amanda Wilkin’s stylish belts and scarves, Sharon Ryan’s flowing African tunics, designed to establish the superiority of our creative God.

Craftsmen of Shore Vineyard, how will you allow the Lord to triumph through your hands?

*Copy with permission for non-commercial use when below info is given:
www.billjohnsonministries.com
Bill Johnson Ministries
933 College View Drive
Redding, CA 96003
(530)246-6000”

Every Day is Like Christmas...

“Let me go see what I did last night”, Jimmy said to me one Saturday morning.  To a stranger it might have sounded like a strange statement, like maybe he did not have full control of his faculties the night before and for some reason he was too impaired to remember where he had been and what he had done.  But I knew what he was talking about.  He had spent Friday evening in the studio blowing and sculpting molten glass.  When the glass is red or white hot you cannot see what the finished piece will really look like.  After a night of cooling down in the kiln, the pieces are ready to view the next morning.  Jimmy says with a sense of joyful expectancy as he opens the kiln, “Every morning is like Christmas!”

But this morning as Jimmy spoke those now familiar words, I thought of the same words and feelings that rose up in me after a night of prayer at the Shore House of Prayer last Thursday.  We had been praying over Israel and the United States, with special urgency looking forward to the UN meeting coming up in September to determine whether Israel will be ordered to return to its 1967 borders.  We felt that God was directing us to worship, and then from that place of worship to release God’s heart.  We sang over Barack Obama, calling him to hear from God, to know his true identity, to align himself with what God says about Israel.  At the end of the night I sat back in my chair basking in the sweetness of God’s presence filling the room and my heart, and thinking, “What will happen tomorrow in Barack Obama because we have loved on him tonight and sang his name before the Father?  What will happen in our nation, how will God’s Bride respond because we have worshiped and called the Bride to align herself with the Father’s heart, especially toward Israel?”

So we call out to God and ask him to move once more at the sound of his children’s voices as we worship and pray as we feel his Spirit leading us.  We cry out to God, “Let us see today in the natural what we did last night in the heavenly.  Every day is like Christmas, God.  Rain down the blessings today that you called us to cry out for in prayer last night.”

It's a Girl!

Yesterday was my birthday.  I woke up thinking about an e-card I had received the night before from a dear friend. The card read, “Celebrating you today and hoping you remember that God celebrates you every day!” As I prayed later that morning, my thoughts went to my mother who has been in heaven for over 20 years.  I asked the Lord to speak to her for me, as I do from time to time, to let her know I am doing o.k., to let her know how I still miss her and so love and appreciate her for all she did for me.  I mused on what Mommy went through for me, carrying a baby in the heat of the summer, going through labor without the epidurals given today. There were no ultrasounds in the 50’s.  With two boys already at home, what went through her mind when the doctor called out, “It’s a girl!”?  I think my mother celebrated this baby girl that day.  She celebrated that I was a daughter, and then she loved and celebrated me as she raised me up.  Mommy was always my greatest fan. 

It was then that the Father reminded me in the midst of my musings, “That’s how I feel about you, too. I celebrate you.”

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb…My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place…your eyes saw my unformed body.  All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:13,15,16

So, in my life quest to be like Jesus who only did what he saw the Father doing, how do I celebrate the people that God celebrates?  First, my prayer is “Give me eyes to see people as you see them”, to be able to recognize the gold gleaming forth under the wrappings of life.  When I find that gold, then I announce it, call it forth, celebrate it as the true identity of that one that God celebrates.  Just as God celebrates Taffy Spaloss, not just on July 12^th, but every day.  The doctor may have said, “it’s a girl”, but the Father declares, “it’s MY girl!”

LIFE LEAVES SPACES…

I had a tooth pulled this week, an interesting experience to say the least.  First my mouth was numbed with novacaine. Then the dentist pulled, tugged, twisted and rocked the tooth until he finally pulled it loose.  Thankfully all I felt was a whole lot of pressure, no pain. As I sat there, tense and trying to calm myself, I couldn’t help but think that there is a lesson God has for me in here somewhere.  Something having to do with deep rooted things being pulled out of my life; deep rooted, but not good things.  Hard to remove, some healing needed after they're gone; some getting used to the empty space....  

The next morning as I prepared to check the email at work my attention was drawn to an ad loop running on Yahoo for American Express.  “Life leaves spaces…”  I was hooked, since I was still dealing with the healing of a very physical space in my upper mouth.  The loop continued to the next screen:  “Life leaves spaces… for you to create in….It’s not just a card; it’s a canvas”. 

Who volunteers to have a tooth removed?  Who opts for pain and the need for healing afterward?  But life leaves spaces.  Empty spaces open up in our lives as God rearranges things.  “Why God?”  I often ask.  “I don’t like change.  Why can’t it stay the same?  When will it go back to ‘normal’?”

I think God is showing me that he is the one who opens up spaces for him and me to create in.  Those spaces are not a tragedy, an “oops” on God’s part, or even bad luck, but an opportunity, a blank canvas for what he is going to paint next, or have me paint next.  I am not an artist, but I do love to write.  I love the feeling of sitting down with a fresh piece of blank paper (or a new document page in Word) and starting to compose.  I am praying that God will help me to remember what he has shown me with this tooth extraction and the empty space it left in my mouth. Life leaves spaces for me and for God to create in.  It's not just a loss, a lost tooth, a lost ???, its a canvas for him, for us, to draw, paint, write, sing, dance something new, something beautiful, something to bless and not to harm.  Something from his heart to ours.

Within the grace period…

Got too busy spending money this month before Christmas, and neglected to pay the bills!  Hate when I do that, especially when I get socked with a late payment charge on top of the credit card balance.  One bill had me concerned since it was my son, Christopher’s life insurance payment.  Since Chris was diagnosed with cancer several years ago I have been quite religious about keeping his life insurance payments up to date.  Even though he is doing well now, he would not be a candidate to reinstate the policy, or get a new one, if we let it lapse.  So I put the payment in the mail, and called the insurance company the next day to let them know the check was coming.  I confessed my spending too much and not paying bills error to the customer service rep at Chris’ life insurance company and she pulled up the account.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Spaloss,” she told me.  “You are still within the grace period.”

Ahh!!! Still within the grace period….The words warmed my heart.  Not because of Chris’ life insurance policy being in full force, but because I knew they were words also spoken to me on the inside by the Holy Spirit of God. 

Sometimes I run and run and run, but never seem to get accomplished what I wanted.  Never enough, coming up short, running on empty.  But don’t worry, God says.  You are still within the grace period.  You are always, at all times, under my grace, my tender mercies when you fail, and my divine enabling to be who you need to be. 

May grace (God's favor) and peace (which is perfect well-being, all necessary good, all spiritual prosperity, and freedom from fears and agitating passions and moral conflicts) be multiplied to you in [the full, personal, precise, and correct] knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord. 2 Peter 1: 2 AMP

Let us then fearlessly and confidently and boldly draw near to the throne of grace (the throne of God's unmerited favor to us sinners), that we may receive mercy [for our failures] and find grace to help in good time for every need [appropriate help and well-timed help, coming just when we need it].Hebrews 4: 16 AMP

Ahh!

WE CELEBRATE IRGY

Not quite sure on the spelling of that word, “irgy”, but it is pronounced with a hard g.  Irgy was one of my grandson, Cade’s early words to express how he was feeling, something very difficult for a toddler to do.  Cade learned to say he was “irgy” and his astute mom and dad realized that he meant angry.  Then they could help him process those feelings, ask the right questions, give him some adult wisdom in dealing with his childlike frustrations that left him feeling “irgy”. 

My daughter, Rachel never scolded Cade for misstating what he was feeling.  Instead, she  spoke to Cade about the feelings he was expressing.  Had she scolded him and made him repeat after her to say the word correctly, disregarding the feelings expressed through his little word, Cade might have learned that he had to say everything correctly in order to be accepted, to get answers, to learn.  That would have been stifling to his inquisitive little mind.  Cade was maybe 3 during his “irgy” times.  Now he is 6 and irgy is no longer part of his vocabulary. He is creative with words and pictures, a delight to this grandma’s heart.

When we come to Jesus we are brand new, like little children, like Cade.  We enthusiastically and hopefully unabashedly try out our new lives and new language in this new Kingdom with God and our new family, and sometimes “angry” comes out “irgy”.  God looks beyond our words, hears our hearts and responds to us in a way we can understand.  He knows we won’t always say “irgy”.  But for now, it’s ok, because we are sharing what we are feeling inside and opening the door for God and others to look into and speak into our lives. 

Jesus did only what he saw the Father doing. God celebrates and accepts each of us wherever we may be along the journey, and his love spurs us on to maturity. We are called to follow suit and accept people as they are, where they are.  We are called to put aside the natural reaction to correct the way someone may express what is in his heart, perhaps for the sole reason that it is not how we might say it.  Instead we bless him for where he is getting it right and encourage him to continue to seek God and freely share what he learns.  Even if it comes out “irgy” for now.  We celebrate the ones God loves.  We celebrate what God is doing in their lives.  And yes, we celebrate “irgy”. 

DOWNLOAD AT LACEY BLOOD DRIVE

I love donating blood.  You get to sign in, wait, get pricked, wait, get pricked, eat pretzels and go home.  “But wait, that’s not why we are all here!” I mused while waiting my turn at the Lacey Rotary Club Blood Drive earlier this year.

If it’s not the pricking and waiting that motivates these donors, what is it that keeps them giving blood time after time?  I had taken my brand new copy of Culture of Honor by Danny Silk and was a few chapters into it when I was called to donate.  “Culture of honor!” I nearly spoke it out loud.  The Red Cross practices that principle for sure, I reasoned.  In his book, Danny Silk explains the “Principle of Honor behind the culture of honor practiced in his church:

“…accurately acknowledging who people are will position us to give them what they deserve and to receive the gift of who they are in our lives”.(Culture of Honor, p. 25)

I was getting excited by now as God downloaded the principle of honor in living color, blood red to be exact.  The Red Cross blesses, honors and values the people who walk in the door to donate.  They send thank you emails; they give award pins when you hit your first gallon; heck sometimes they even announce it out loud at the donation site and you get a round of applause.  They get excited when it’s your first time and make you feel like hot stuff.  They get excited when it’s your 10^th time and make you feel like hot stuff.  They give people the honor they deserve for their willingness to give of themselves, and then the donors give to the Red Cross, as well as all the people who benefit from their blood, the gift of who they are, their own life blood.  “You are valuable, appreciated, and needed!” says the Red Cross.  And the donors respond, “I love feeling valuable, appreciated and needed, so I’ll be back in five weeks to donate some more of the treasure within me!”

I shared my thoughts with Belinda, the phlebotomist taking my blood that morning.  She smiled in understanding, and shared with me another tidbit about blood donation.  She had me feel the tube in which my blood was flowing into the collection bag.  “It’s warm,” she said, “as it should be.  If it was cold, we would have to stop the donation because it would mean something was wrong, like a blood clot.  Or it could mean that your body is dehydrated and you should not be draining it of any fluids, including blood donation, at this time.” She paused as I took in this new information.  Warm, flowing blood, coming from my heart is what is needed.  Cold is not good, not helpful, not healthy… 

Then she added another reason that the blood flow might be cold and therefore not acceptable.  “If the phlebotomist inserts the needle incorrectly, plunges it too deeply, that could also make the flow cold, and unacceptable.”  So, wounding the donor can be detrimental to the donation process, too….

So, we the church, God’s family can garner a few pearls of wisdom from the Red Cross here, about encouraging a Culture of Honor in our midst. Recognize the valuable gifting in each one who comes through our doors.  Hey, not everyone is going to have that rare blood type, and not everyone is going to be a “universal donor” that gets along with everyone.  But each type is needed, each gifting, each personality.  We as a culture of honor must learn to recognize and call forth that gifting in each other, honor each other for who God made us, recognize the treasure in each one.  We need God’s eyes to do that, since some treasure is hard to see, like a pearl inside an oyster.  As we release God’s heart over each one, let them know they are wanted, loved, valuable and even desirable to us as well as to our God, we open the way to “to receive the gift of who they are in our lives”.  It will keep them coming back, not just every five weeks like the “gallon club”.  They will love, as I do, coming to the one place they feel alive, accepted and valued just for being themselves.  

SATURDAY MORNING TREASURES

We love sailing.  Yard-sailing that is.  Most Saturday mornings, Jimmy and I grab a quick breakfast and venture out, coffee cups in hand to hunt for treasures.  Jimmy is always looking for antiques. I have my eyes open for fabric and sewing items, and maybe a good book or two.  A couple of weeks ago, we found out what God was looking for at yard sales, what he treasures. 

One treasure we encountered was an older man named Keith.  Keith chose to share with us while other folks shopped his driveway, about his medical condition:  Cancer in his lungs, surgery to remove part of the lung, a prognosis of five years of life left to him.  “I’ll take those five years,” he said with a smile.  His smile spoke louder than his words: “I love life!” 

Whenever someone shares a medical condition or other need with me, I take it as God saying, “pray for this one.”  So I asked Keith if we could pray for him,  “Yes!” he answered.  “Can I put my hand on you as I pray” I asked.  Another “yes” with that million dollar smile.  So Jimmy and I prayed over Keith that God would heal him and give him life, since he had such a love for life.  I don’t know if I will meet Keith again, but treasure in my heart that encounter we had with him, and continue to pray for his healing and that he knows the love of the Father.

We continued on to another garage sale where we encountered Art, an elderly man sitting in his garage, selling off the last of his fishing equipment. Since our son is a fishing enthusiast, Jimmy started discussing fishing with the man as I listened nearby.  He obviously had a passion for fishing, and a great knowledge of the craft as well, as he told Jimmy about various fishing trips with his son over the years.  Now we had noticed that the man had a brace wrapped around his chest.  So I ventured into the conversation and asked him why he was selling all his fishing equipment. Art proceeded to explain that he had a chronic disease that affected his bones; his body no longer produced marrow to replenish his bones so that he was continually fracturing bones all throughout his body.  The brace on his chest was due to the many broken ribs he already had in his chest.  He could not do any activity at all, much less fishing, and still continued to have bone loss and fracture.  He received frequent blood transfusions that had kept him alive for the past 7 years in this condition.  “Could we pray for you, “ I asked.  He nodded yes, and I took his hand, Jim placed his hand delicately on his shoulder and we asked Jesus to give him a blood transfusion from Jesus’ own blood to heal him.  We chatted some more, met his wife who had heard us praying for him, and then went on our way.

Can I tell you what treasures I purchased that Saturday in May?  Not a one can I recall.  But God’s treasures, Art and Keith, I hold in my heart, and my prayers.