I could write a generic story about how we are soldiers for God and how Hearts of Beauty weekend is like boot camp, tearing you down, then building you up, but, the best writing is like a strip of scotch tape–transparent. So, (sigh), here goes…

It’s really difficult to watch the blessings fall down on others like rain and you feel like you are in a drought. I have told friends, “Don’t worry, God is in the blessing business.” But in the back of my mind, I would say. “Except me.”

I have always been the dependable one, the one who is taking care of things. But I was disheartened to find that the ones that I had sacrificed the most for, were not there in my time of need. The worse feeling in the world can be when you are down for people closest to you, but they are not down for you and won’t even open their mouths to say, “Thank you.”

I would often think, “I am a good person. Why don’t have someone who is there for me like I am for them?” I have had people who were there actually so I don’t want it to seem like there was NO one there. But, when the ones who let you down are the certain people that you held to a high esteem, it stings quite a bit.

So that was my mindset while I was on my drive to Pulaski, MS a few weeks ago.  I look at the time and I think to myself that maybe I should not have left so early; it’s only a little after 2:00. I wish that the campground is further away as I nod my head to T.I.’s song, “Warzone.” It’s not that I don’t want to go; I simply want to feel like I am further away from my problems at home. In the back of my mind, I do question my motives. I wonder: If things at home were peachy-keen, would I even be going on this retreat? But I do feel that somehow, I am meant to be here. I just don’t  know why.

I see the ladies there, smiling at me as I pull up and being very helpful, even taking my luggage. While I am there, I get hugs. The hugs, oh the hugs! They vary from light squeezes to-

“Mama?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I can’t breathe!” –

That’s just a little TV nostalgia for you. Oh yes, the tight hugs are warming to my spirit. Ladies come up to me and tell me that they just feel drawn to me. And they can’t seem to stop giving me these bear hugs for some reason. “Wow,” I say to myself, “I must look like a pitiful hot mess.” I think to myself that the staff must be told at the meetings, “Remember, ladies, A.B.H. Always Be Hugging. When you see someone hug them. Hug, hug, hug. Don’t put on too much perfume in the morning because you must hug. You can’t hug enough. We want them to feel welcome.

But Deborah comes up to me and says something and it clicks. These women are simply a conduit. Jesus is so happy to see me that He just has to run up and hug me and he needs a body to do it. It’s like that auntie that hasn’t seen me in years and is so glad to see me. Jesus is so filled with love for me that he can’t help himself. He has been pursuing me all my life. I feel the Holy Spirit when I get these hugs. I find myself walking up to get a hug now. They feel like Amoxicillin, an injection of spiritual antibiotics to clean up my inner infections of bitterness, one squeeze at a time. He loves me!

The only thing that I didn’t like was the quality of sleep that I got. I would love to say that it was the mattresses, but the truth of the matter is..well, my body craved what it usually has to have in order to lull me to sleep.  Alcohol. Yes, I was used to getting sloshed before sleeping and had gotten sloshed the night before I left. Here’s some tea- not from Long Island- about boozing it up for those who don’t imbibe-it can cause a mean case of insomnia. Sad to say, I am truly a desolate woman, as I would find out on my retreat. My passiveness has built up a hornet’s nest of bitterness and resentment in my spirit and my pesticide is booze, which is really poison on top of poison. The hornets fly away for a while, but they always return the next day.

Now onto my roommates: The first one that I meet starts speaking into my life before she has even she has even really processed my name. I do feel God speaking to me through her before I even start to unpack and make my bed. God has already started to romance me although I wouldn’t quite realize it quite yet. 2 of the ladies are women that I had met before so I assume that it was set up deliberately by Sharon or Niki. I would later find out that it was random; in fact, the ladies pray over the roommates list!

I have 3 Black roommates and 3 Creole roommates-that’s an inside joke. They are white, and my first thought is that I hope that nothing comes up missing on their end and one of us doesn’t get accused of stealing. I am ashamed to be writing that now, but I flash back to years ago when I had a white roommate and those painful memories resurfaced.

Cynth, the first lady that I met is a short lady with an extroverted personality and a lot of energy, which is good ‘cause I’m an introvert. The cadence of her speech kind of reminds me of Wanda Sykes actually; I feel like she is the comedian of the group. There’s Farah, she’s a itty bitty thing and has a quiet personality. I wonder if she can sing. I picture her with an acoustic guitar, maybe singing a Joni Mitchell or Joan Baez song. Her voice and sound machine have a calming effect that helps me finally sleep-at least the first night.

There are two Kim’s the one closest me has a kind soft voice, and for some reason, I feel like she is a woman who likes things of the earth, like nature or gardening. The other Kim, is has a big energetic spirit. Both Kims to me have a mother hen spirit. Amy is energetic to me too. To me she seems like she would be the kind of woman you can call when you are feeling down and after 5 minutes, you wonder why you were so down in the first place.  Then there’s Sylvia, the lady that I have previously met but had not really connected to. She is one of the healers in the group. She has her essential oil diffuser and fills the place with two things in particular: her lavender essential oils via diffuser and her energetic personality. Her energy really starts the connection between us seven, obliterating the “ice” into a cloud of dust. She asks us what revelations we had that day.

One night, we are giggling and talking about how our Lord is continually romancing us, like we are at some sleepaway camp talking about some cute boy. I smile in the moonlight and alcohol is the furthest thing from my mind. He loves me! It is so good to be around women and there is no cattiness and jealousy. Well, I must confess some jealously on my part. I hear them talk about how God talks to them and I realize I want Jesus to whisper in my ear. I long to “hear” and even feel a warm sensation of Him that I have heard others speak of. I want to feel like He is guiding me to make decisions in life and to tell me what to do. I want Him to talk to me in my dreams.  How many times did He kiss my eyelids awake only for me to slide past him, too hungover to acknowledge Him? How many times has He romanced me and kept me while I was too drunk or angry to notice?

Well, God did guide me and romance me while I was there constantly and actually, there are really too many to name. But I used to write-I’m quite rusty as this is the first time I have written a piece in several years-Obama was in his first term in office. One of the questions posed to us was, How do I want to live this life? One of the things that I wrote down was that I’d like to start writing again. Lo and behold, what do I get as a door prize the next day? A journal. He loves me!

Well, I had an unfortunate canoe tipping incident that left me drenched. I joked with Cynth that I was thinking of getting baptized again but uh-not like that. She urged me to make that happen and well, I will get baptized on Sunday! He knows me—He know that I would ponder that and probably not do anything and let’s face it. My lease here is going to be up one day. He loves me!

The experience of Hearts of Beauty to me is this: It’s like an extended weekend romantic getaway with your boo: Jesus. Now, having a boo thang in the physical sense has its value. But all of my married friends tell me that married life is anything but a honeymoon every single day so..like Coltrane’s opus, His love will stand the test of time. His love will never wax and wane. There’s no silent treatment and no end to the days when He will pursue me.

Before I know it, time has marched on and it’s time to leave. I pack my things and my truck and notice a large goose sitting off on the bank of the river where I got capsized/Canoe baptized- ha ha-  in. Will he fly off? I stand off for a minute and breath in, thinking about going back to reality. I envision Satan lying in wait, his feet up, with a sly expression on his face.

“How was your little trip? I missed ya.”

I close my eyes and breathe in again before I get in my vehicle. They sure were right. I don’t want to leave, I think to myself. But it’s okay.

I’ll be back.

Over a year ago, I found myself penning a single cross on my left wrist daily. Some former cutters do this to show they are now transformed into a new creation in Christ. I began doing it for a different reason.

I wanted a daily reminder that it’s ok to be broken, imperfect. That Christ came to allow Himself to be broken for me. That somehow He presses into my broken mess and brings something beautiful out of it.

“And Jesus took the bread and broke it, saying this is my body, take and eat. “ Matt. 26:26

But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.” Matthew 13:23

The seed must break open and die for the plant to come forth. The plant bears the fruit of the grain that must be threshed and then crushed to make the bread. The bread must be broken for us to receive life.

In Jesus’ brokeness is where I find healing, wholeness.

Some might say that I’m going through a mid-life crisis.

For my birthday this year, I decided to make my penned artwork a permanent part of me. If you would have told me two years ago that I would’ve set foot in a tattoo parlor, much less actually subjected myself to a needle, I would’ve thought you were a little off upstairs. Ok. Maybe a lot off upstairs.

There was even a time, I would’ve judged someone with a tattoo, or at least felt uncomfortable with being around them. Drinking. Dancing. Yep. All of those things made me really uncomfortable.

I was raised a good Southern Baptist girl after all. Rules, and lots of them.

I remember being afraid of being in a movie theatre when the rapture happened. I’d surely get left behind.

Please hear me say that any of those in excess, even food, I believe is not good or pleasing to God. Papa loves us and wants us to come to Him for fulfillment and wholeness, rather than look an idol to comfort us.

Two of my trusted friends even challenged me on the tattoo idea. My husband couldn’t understand the my new desire for one either. All I know is something inside me wanted a permanent picture of what God is doing in my heart. I wanted  it to be a picture that became a part of me.

I went to scriptures to see what Papa really had to say about it. Was it evil as I had been taught?

Two verses in particular really spoke to me.  “Father has our names tattooed on his hand” Isaiah 49:16, and “He has branded us with His love as his own.” Ephesians 4:30

On a personal level though, I asked Him what this was about for me. I heard Him gently say, “It’s my brand of love on you.”

The night before I was to have it done, I was looking online at different cross ideas to see what I really wanted. You would’ve thought I’d have nailed that down a lot sooner.

As I was looking, I heard Papa say to my heart, “I want you to have a cross made out of roses.”

The very next picture I came upon was a cross with a large rose in the center.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I always want you to remember that I make beautiful things out of your broken and surrendered life.” He answered.

I was undone.

Roses have many meanings for me as well. The Rose of Sharon for example grows in the most difficult of places, but is one of the most beautiful flowers. So, for Him to say He wanted it out of roses brought me to tears.

The following day, I met my friend who was to go with me to offer encouragement, and get a new tat herself. It’s always good to have a cheerleader who’s willing to jump in the chair herself.

We followed GPS to the location, a place in an old warehouse in the middle of nowhere. There was a skeleton sitting in a chair as their curb appeal. If it hadn’t been for my faithful companion, I’d have chickened out.

As I stood in the middle of the tattoo parlor, looking around in disbelief that I was even in this kind of establishment, I felt the presence of the Lord surround me. His gentle spirit was right there. My artist, a believer, began chatting about the last woman he had who couldn’t take the pain.

My friend went first and managed to give me a smile to reassure me. Then came my turn.

So, I hopped in the chair, laid my wrist up on his table, and let this man draw a beautiful design of a cross made out of roses on my wrist.

One of the hardest things about walking out of extreme abuse is being able to see who God has made you be outside of it. So many times, the trauma still colors my lens, and I look at myself as a broken mess. When I’m working through my emotions and my the reactions still feel very extreme, its so easy to feel discouraged like I’ve not changed or made progress.

Then I look at my wrist, and I see the image of surrendered, suffering love, and the beauty He is creating out of it.

I found myself struggling through some really tough memories and emotions this week. It took my breath away. Fear asphyxiates you.

The very next day after trying to work through the lies I had believed, I was supposed to be a part of a special prayer event across our state. To say I didn’t feel qualified is a gross understatement. So, I argued with God questioning my involvement.

Papa, of course, corrected me and sent me on my way to be part of it. When it was over, I walked on our church property to a place that has a pond and small bridge over one end of it. As I came close to the bridge, I heard “Stop”.

I did for a second, and then continued to walk. Again, I heard “Stop”.

So, I fully obeyed this time.

Immediately, a hawk took flight. He swooped down over my head, and perched in front of me. He then took flight again and surfed the airwaves above me.

As the bird flew off, I heard Papa say gently, “Don’t ever mix up who you are with what you’ve been through.”

On the one hand, we are all broken. But our brokenness can become something whole and beautiful when surrendered to the Master’s loving hands. He does make beautiful things out of our surrendered, broken places.

Sometimes, that means pressing into the pain of it with Him. Pain is not bad. It’s just an indicator that something is wrong. When we allow him into it with us, He will bring truth in love that will heal the deepest wound.

He also wants us to remember that who He has created us to be in Him and who He is, is not the same as what we’ve been through.

As we come to believe the truth about who God says we are, the lies that were told us in the dark lose their hold. We can walk in freedom.

I don’t know the timetable of when I will finally, completely believe the truth. I think there may always be some brokenness in me this side of heaven. And that’s ok. Because every time I take my broken places to Him, He makes beautiful things out of it.

I really enjoy good wine! I grew up in California, maybe that’s it? Maybe it’s because I really love food…GOOD food paired with GOOD wine!

To me, good food and wine is a wonderful part of the abundant life that Jesus has provided for us. Even in the old covenant, King Solomon said that we should eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all our labor- this is the gift of God. (Ecc 3:13) How much more should we be able to enjoy life now, as partakers of the new covenant?

Back in California, when my husband and I began learning about wine and learning about wine/food pairings, the exploration and experiences were a necessary part of the learning. In this way, growing in understanding of wine is much the same as growing in our understanding of God. You can’t just read about God and ever truly KNOW Him, you must experience Him, you must explore Him and His ways, you must taste and see!

Thankfully I have a good Papa, who has provided me with interesting friends who have wholeheartedly stepped into the exploration and experiences of knowing God. Because we have all jumped into the experiential portion of life with God, we feel comfortable to share with each other the odd experiences, communications and Holy Spirit rabbit trails. We discover aspects of God’s nature, His heart for us and our inheritance in ways beyond just reading our Bibles. Don’t get me wrong, we are all avid Bible study-ers. But our study leads to application in all sorts of ways.

Recently I invited a new friend to be a guest speaker at a ministry meeting I am hosting. I was excited to have her speak on her passion, healing through dance. After we talked, I wondered to myself how I would introduce her as I considered the questions that people might have about the event: “Adel, what does this have to do with our spiritual journey?” Or “How does this relate to your stated goal of bringing the Kingdom on Earth as it is in Heaven?” (People ask interesting questions in my imagination.)😉

As I pondered, the Lord brought to mind the illustration of old wine, new wine and wineskins that Jesus gave to questioning people. This conversation was recorded in Matthew 9:1, Mark 2:22 and Luke 5:33-39. He brought to my mind the qualities of old wine and new wine and how they are different.

In the world of wine, you may have heard that some wines need to be tasted young or new and others really need a few years and taste better when aged or old. What? Why?

Well a young wine has been recently bottled while an aged wine has been in the bottle for some years. If you tasted the same wine, bottled the same year over time, you would be able to taste the difference the time has made.

A young wine has a flavor profile that is called “fruit-forward.” I think that is so very appropriate to the new covenant. Fruit flavors are at the forefront of your palate. The fruit that is actually in the bottle and other fruit flavors that never were put in there.

A new wine is changing, maturing, growing. It is very much alive! Fruit is a result of Life not works. In the new covenant, fruit is the evidence that the Holy Spirit is living in us and that we are connected to the Vine.

Like believers in a new covenant relationship with God, a new wine is very much alive, growing and developing to its full potential. This is why an old wineskin will not do. The old wineskin has already been stretched to its maximum volume. A new wine will grow beyond the capacity of the old wineskin.

In a new wine, some of the flavors that are perceived were not actually put into the bottle. In the new covenant, some of the “flavors” that are perceived are not actually spelled out in the covenant, but they were in the ground, and in the atmosphere of the Father’s heart for us. They develop in the free and creative oxygen of the Spirit of God.

An old wine has gone through a maturation process as over time, tiny amounts of oxygen have penetrated the cork. The original flavors of a mature wine have changed and grown in complexity, and even the color of the wine has changed. Instead of the vibrant ruby red, or bright magenta, the color of the wine may now appear muddled and brownish. The obvious flavors of the fermented grape juice that was put in the bottle are now more subtle and the many qualities that made up the atmosphere of the growing grape vine begin to step forward on the palate; the minerals in the ground, the flowers and herbs planted nearby, acidity or tannins have become softer. Later another more subtle range of flavors develop, things that were not truly in the bottle whose flavors now step forward, leather and earth and spices…the list goes on. This is why an old wine can pair better with many different foods than a younger bottle of the same wine.

In the same way but not as positively, the old Mosaic covenant had matured and become complex, it bore the imprint of the atmosphere it had grown up in, an atmosphere marked by the pagan cultures all around. God designed complex rules to protect and separate His people from common-ness; to make them holy. His laws, however, did not dishonor or disrespect.

What God had put in the old covenant bottle, was now muddled with the ideas of men; over 200 new laws created by the Sadducees and Pharisees. Those man-made laws left the foundation of love, respect and honor toward God and people in exchange for religious values designed to look good to man. Those values invited judgement and dishonor against others rather than self-reflection and repentance.

In the last days of that covenant, the days that Jesus walked the earth, things that were not in the original bottle (covenant) had been added by the Pharisees, making the wine unapproachable until it had passed its peak and became a dead wine. Sadly, it was still being force fed to the people of Israel. As it always does, the religious spirit caused people who wanted to engage with God to feel far from Him and separated by judgement and rejection.

On the cross, just before his death, Jesus was offered a sip of “sour wine.” Sour wine is another way of saying, DEAD wine. Dead wine has either aged past its life or been exposed to air prematurely and turned to vinegar.

Jesus fulfilled the law by both his sinless life and by his perfect sacrifice on the cross. In fulfilling the law, He brought it to its intended conclusion, death. He rejected the dead wine. In a sense, He verified the death of the old covenant, the only possible end of the law. As he died, so our flesh also died to the law and is raised to life in the new covenant.

In Romans 7:6, Paul tells us: ⁶ But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new [wine] of the Spirit, and not in the old [wine] of the written code. (My word [wine] replaces the actual word ‘way’).

It seems like an important statement that the last thing Jesus did in His ministry before dying was to reject the dead wine of the old covenant.

It also seems important that the first miracle Jesus did in His ministry was to make about 180 gallons of really amazing wine! He created new wine that John the Baptist, the last prophet of the old covenant, was not allowed to even taste.

John the Baptist, the last and greatest prophet of the Old Covenant was not allowed to drink wine. He “sang the dirge,” Matthew 11:17 the funeral song of the old covenant. But Jesus began his ministry playing the wedding song of Isaiah 61, the Good News of what, “on earth as it is in Heaven” is to look like for His bride.

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
    to proclaim freedom for the captives
    and release from darkness for the prisoners,^[a]
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
    and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
³ and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor.

Good news, freedom from captivity, release from darkness, beauty, joy, praise, a display of His splendor! These and much more are the fruit of the new covenant that Jesus bought for His bride.

As his first miraculous act, Jesus, the first prophet of the New Covenant, made a tremendous amount of really good wine for a wedding celebration! He did this for people who had been partying for days and, according to the master of ceremonies of the wedding party, were inebriated enough that they could no longer tell just how good it was. I am not implying that Jesus intended that they become more drunk. Only that he always provides both a choice and an opportunity to rejoice. Psalm 104:10-15

This better wine was an unexpected and abnormal order of service to the MC of the event. Usually the host of a wedding would serve the good stuff while everyone was aware of flavors and qualities, before they had drunk too much to care about taste. Jesus was not capable of producing something that would fit with their expectation. He was generous in His heart toward them, He was generous in His provision for them and the fruit of his new ministry was outside the standards of their cultural expectations. For Jesus, the Wine and the Wedding are inseparable.

The generosity of God’s heart toward us is available to us in the new covenant. To believers living in the old covenant or mixing old wine and new wine into the old wineskin of the religious system they knew, the new covenant wine blows their wineskin-minds!

As we learn and grow in the new covenant, we read again the scripture verses that have always been right there before us, but our minds were not ready to receive the great gifts available to us. What is ours as partakers of the new covenant?

Could healing for some conditions caused by our enemy be as simple and glorious as expressing praise to our Father with our bodies? Healing through dance, healing through song, healing through anointing with oil, through laying on of hands, emotional healing through intentional praise, life altering promotion and acceleration by claiming the promises of God over our lives?

In 2 Samuel 6:14–17, David danced with abandon before the Lord as he celebrated bringing the Ark of the Covenant up into his city. David was leaping and dancing before the Lord. Why? Because he was now allowed to host the Presence of the Lord. As New Covenant believers, we have the privilege and miracle of hosting His Presence every day of our lives. His dwelling is within us.

In Jeremiah 31, after the Lord stated that He would be the “God of all the families of Israel, and they will be my people,” He went on to describe how “His people” would respond to his goodness:

They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion;
    they will rejoice in the bounty of the Lord—
the grain, the new wine and the olive oil,
    the young of the flocks and herds.
They will be like a well-watered garden,
    and they will sorrow no more.
¹³ Then young women will dance and be glad,
    young men and old as well.
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
    I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.                                     (Jeremiah 31:12-13, NIV)

I’ll say it again, to Jesus, the wine and the wedding are inseperable!

The New Wine of Jesus brings with it the oil of joy. The New Wine makes our hearts like well-watered gardens with much fruit growing up effortlessly. The New Wine brings comfort to our hearts and a shine to our faces. In my opinion, when we recognize the fullness of our inheritance as the Bride of Christ, we have plenty of reason to dance, to enjoy the fullness of what the New Wine means for us as overcomers and to receive every good thing our Winemaker/Groom has promised us. I encourage you to drink deeply of the New Wine.

Two weeks ago, my breakfast area, and eventually the rest of my downstairs, became a sheep’s pen. Literally. My daughters are apart of a 4H program at a local farm, at which they raise dairy sheep and goats. As a 4H project, “the horse lady” as she is affectionately called, allows the children to foster baby lambs during lambing season with the purpose of training the lambs to eat from what is called a lamb bar. It’s a bucket filled with formula with nipples stuck in the sides. Straws from the nipples stick down into the milk inside. So, to take the lambs from bottle fed babies to drinking from the straw is the goal of the project.

Last year, when this time came, I wouldn’t even consider the project. I was afraid I would hurt them somehow. But for some odd reason, this year I was compelled to do this project with my girls. So, two precious little lambs came to live with us for a week in our home.

We cuddled, fed with bottles, and even put diapers on the babies. They soon began to figure out how to leap over the barriers I had created and chase each other through our living room, school room, dining room, and kitchen. Lambs are not potty trainable, so my girls followed them around cleaning up their messes.

After the first day, I noticed one the lambs was breathing hard. We took it’s temperature to find it was 104. Yes, you can check their temperature, but not orally. In the sheep world that means the lamb probably has pneumonia. A daily trip to the farm for the week ensued for shots and check ups.

On Sunday of that week, I stayed home from church to watch over our temporary treasures. “The golden twins” the farmer had called them. “her favorites” she had said. Nervously, I had consented to care for these two, and I wasn’t about to leave them now.

After feeding them their bottle, they jumped down to explore the paper magazines under the coffee table. The boy named Noah tired of it first and ran to leap back unto the sofa onto my lap. His back legs dangled, as I lifted him on up to cuddle next to me. His sister, Nola, decided it was her turn as well, but she was not as nimble as her brother. She managed to get her front two legs on the sofa, and with pleading eyes, made her bleating cry. Of course, she too ended on the sofa, on the other side of me nestled beneath my arm.

As I sat there, Papa began to talk to me. I had read some about sheep in the past. In fact, the Ps. 23 story is one I’ve had memorized since age three. I love the idea of Jesus as my shepherd. So, I immediately thought He was going to talk about me being His sheep.

As He spoke to me, He tenderly said, “You now are a shepherd like me. You’ve done a great job of caring for my lambs.” I began to tear up, because so many times I’ve felt like a horrible mother, much less shepherd. It had been easier to see myself as the dumb sheep.

He continued, “You would lay down your life for the lambs. That is a good shepherd.” My tears fell on the lambs’ wool. “They know a good shepherd.” he continued. “They trust you. That’s why they want to be with you.” I looked down as both lambs had fallen asleep at my side breathing peacefully.

A week later, the lambs had gone to their proper home. I found myself alone, feeling sick. Anxiety about what was wrong with me had almost been debilitating. Exhausted for several days and feeling like strength had been drained from my body, I lay still on our sofa. I turned on a daily sermon by Joseph Prince. In the first few words, he said, “ If we understood Jesus as our good shepherd most sickness would be gone.” My ears perked up. He continued to say if we understood Him as our shepherd we would never have to worry about another thing, we would be at complete peace all the time, and we’d know that He’s got us covered behind and before.

I had been taught from a very early age to obey those in authority over me, but in my world, it was obey or suffer greatly the consequences. The fear of the Lord meant that I must stay completely submitted to authority, even if that authority were evil, or God would zap me. God was just waiting for me to step out from under the umbrella, and when I did I was going to get pelted. The enemy, the devil, would be allowed to destroy my life. In fact, growing up in a twisted religious environment, if I disobeyed those in authority over me, I was made to believe I would be completely turned over to Satan, and he would destroy me. I had no concept of a loving father or of right correction. I’ve stayed in church all my life many times more because I was afraid of not being under the covering of a church or pastor. But it was all fear based, not love based.

Recently, I have to wrestle a lot with those fears all over again. As much as Papa has shown me how much He really loves me, these fears have been overwhelming at times in the past few weeks. But Papa doesn’t give up on His children ever.

As I lay silent and listened to this message, again Papa began to whisper in my ear, “Would a good shepherd take His little lamb and feed it to the ravenous wolves? Or would He beat the crap out of any predator who tried to come after His sheep? Sheep are prone to missteps, make messes where they shouldn’t, sometimes wander, and they aren’t too smart preferring poisonous weeds to green grass and muddied waters to clear streams. Still would you have allowed the ravenous wolves to devour your lambs? ”

“No, Lord! I’d do anything to protect them.” I replied.

His quiet answer back, “So, would I. I’m a good shepherd, dear one. I may discipline my lambs in love, but I don’t destroy them. And my sheep know I can be trusted, so they want to be close to me. Just like the lambs you cared for wanted to be close to you. They couldn’t do a thing to take care of themselves. Left alone, they’d have never survived. That’s why they need the care of a shepherd. I cover my lambs. I am their protection. I am everything to them. I am their only way to survive and thrive. Don’t be afraid, little lamb. I’ll always take extra good care of you.”

When I still have felt anxieties rise up within me, I’ve been pondering His words. I have reminded myself that I don’t have to have all the answers. I don’t have to be perfect. I will misstep from time to time. I may poop where I’m not supposed to. Well, hopefully not, but I certainly make messes from time to time. But even when I do, He is lovingly caring for every detail of my life. I can’t make it one day with out His watchful care. All I really need to do is stay close to Him and follow His lead. He won’t ever turn me over to the wolves. I’m just a sheep in the care of a good shepherd. He is my covering. He is my protection. I trust in Him.

The girl was sad. Her stepfather was drunk again and the whole apartment was smothered by fumes of alcohol. His increasing drunken shouts, like the background music, bounced around the girls’ mind. It was her birthday and her mother had made salads and dressed the cake. She was dressed up and waiting for classmates who were invited to the party. But while the clock unceasingly walked forward, and the stepfather become irrevocably more drunk she got smothered by even more complete and horrendous throbbing; the realization that nobody was coming.

Any bursting bright joy that she had felt this morning had been choked away and was now dead. First she cried because bitterness like charcoal burned her chest. Then she wanted to scream, but since the stepfather had already done that, there was no room left for her desperate screams.

When the clock was already 2 hours past the time guests were supposed to arrive and all the tears had gone, she was poking around the salad bowl that the mommy had laid before her. She cold not talk even to her anymore, because mommy had already begun her angry dispute with stepfather.

This quarrel was as all others, a well-known waltz, a cruel dance that they performed in perfect precision – the same accusations rolled against each other, the arguments and threats and screams until the hands were launched too, and everything ended up with a cry of pain and fear imposed like the lid over the last argument of any dispute.

The girl knew it, and since the dance of their despair and anger had already begun, her pain was no longer their concern. She was alone to deal with it. “Oh God! I don’t understand! Why are they fighting? Why are they hurting each other? Why? All of it so wrong! Where are you??!!!!”

The girl felt like sinking…

“Want to join me in my Father’s hiding place?” Offered Yeshua who was sitting on the wooden floor. He leaned against the old warm oven that stretched from floor to the ceiling and radiated quiet warmth. He was relaxed but his expression was sad. He was looking at the girl.

”You came!” The little girl exclaimed. Tears began to roll again over her cheeks.
“I never left you.” Jesus quietly said. The girl reached out to him, clung around his neck and wept.

“All will be well. I promise.” Jesus quietly, but certainly whispered in her ear.

“It hurts so SO SOOOO MUCH!!!” she hiccupped and murmured.

“I know honey, oh I know.” He whispered in her ear while she poured out her hurt on his shoulder. A silent tears were running down his cheeks too.

Despair and hurt poured out in flooding waves. Jesus was holding her in his arms and absorbed it all until the broken dumb empty silence came. Have you ever been to this silence? In the place when everything is cried out, screamed out, beaten out at the walls…. and the silence as a heavy blanket rolls over you?

The girl was done with crying. She was sitting beside Jesus in some strange place. Was it a tent? The arch shaped walls meeting above their heads. It had a strange soft glowing blue. She could not understand what is it exactly that she was seeing around her, so she stretched out her hand and touched one of the walls. These really were feathers!

“Where are we?” She mumbled

“Under my Father’s wings.” Yeshua said with a smile.

The atmosphere was pregnant with peace… it was a place where everything good was possible. All that is good, pure, secure, joyful, beautiful, creative, ALL was being born here, in this still, pregnant place of creative peace.

She breathed in deeply and relaxed with every breath taken. The heavy emptiness in her loosened up and filled with Peace and they both rested and enjoyed the time of just – being. When was the last time you could just be? Be who you are, as you are? No need to pretend or make something up? With someone who just “gets you” as you are right at the moment?  The girl enjoyed this moment and thought that this, in spite of all that had happened still is the best birthday ever – being with the best friend who understands her and who wants to be with her and they can simply – be. She sighed while pondering it all and smiled.  “Thank you Yeshua. … for everything.” she whispered.

After some time she started to notice that they were not entirely alone. The earth breathed life and if you looked carefully you could see what was going on beyond the walls

“What is out there?” She quietly asked

“Well…” he said getting up to the sitting position beside her. Yeshua looked in her eyes filling up with enthusiasm and sparks of joy. “From here you can see things the way they really are. How they have been created to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything is alive here. When you spend time here you become alive again too. And as you yourself become more healed and restored to the truth, you can see again the true nature of everything else.”

She paused while thinking on it. She was thinking about daddy and mommy locked in their dance of hate and hurt. She felt like she could almost hear the echo of their anger tune somewhere far away beyond these walls… but it was somehow different now. She was not sure how, so she turned her head and looked over her shoulder.

Out in the open was a platform were two more kids were standing on the opposite side of the huge mirror/window. The platform was slowly turning around and from her safe hiding place the girl and Yeshua were observing the scene.

The two kids were looking at each other through the glass of this window screaming and crying. A girl with shoulder-length brownish black hair, in a yellow dress and gray sandals on her feet. Here hands were flexed into fists. Her face red with anger and hurt was looking into the mirror … but the reflection/ image she was seeing was not the boy. She was seeing the huge evil grinning monster with drunk swimming eyes, with big hard hands with curled fists. This monster did not have ears and he was blind. His face was filled with arrogance and cruel anger. He was laughing at the tiny girl on the other side of the glass.

When the platform turned around the girl gasped and squeezed the hand of Yeshua. She was seeing that there was no monster on the other side. There stood a small boy who looked angry and hurt too. He was thin and his muddy brown pants were worn out and stitched in so many places. His shirt probably in its early days was white but now hardly fit him and had a grayish look to it. He was trying to stretch bigger then he was, almost standing on his tiptoes the entire time while shouting to the image on the other side of the glass. The tears of helplessness and despair were running over his cheeks faster than he managed to wipe them away.

The image he was looking at was impressive. A woman-like monster with cold expressionless face and empty eyes was standing there and every time this thing opened its mouth a flood of black substance poured over the boy’s tiny figure. He screamed in pain and fought back.

The platform was turning around and the tiny fist that was protecting and fighting off the black wave of monster on the other side of the mirror turned into the huge fist whipping to the ground the girl in the yellow dress.

“What IS this?!” gasped the girl who looked to Yeshua. “Who are they?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know!” Then she stilled. She heard the familiar voices and words of accusation. She gasped and turned to look again. The two kids were talking and shouting in the voices of her parents.

“What is going on?” She turned to Yeshua again.

“Do you recognize them?”

“Yea.. I think so… but how? Why? I still don’t understand!”

“They are fighting their monsters but they miss the fact that the only ones they are able to hurt in the process are themselves and the each other. The monsters just feed on the misery and anger and fight.”

“But how come? Why they are doing it? Why don’t they just stop and talk?!”

“They cannot talk to monsters,” sadly remarked Yeshua. “I understand that.” he sighed.

“But why are they even trying to talk to the monsters? Why are they not talking to each other??!!” the girl asked, feeling exasperated.

“They have lost each other. They don’t see each other anymore. All they see is the monster in front of them. So they’re just defending themselves.”

“They are blind!” gasped the girl quietly and sank down to the floor. “ Could they come here and heal? Can you help them?”

“They are welcome here … but they don’t talk to my Father or me, they do not listen. Yes I can help them,” Yeshua wishfully commented, then sighed, “but they don’t want help. And now my Father said unless they ask me for help it is rude to invade. Everyone is welcome here, but they must come willingly. I sometimes wonder myself, why people are too busy hurting each other and themselves. They cry out and accuse my Father for all the pain but they don’t want to spend time to come here, to listen, to heal, to be! ”

“I will talk to them!” decided the girl while still watching an endless carousel of her parents beyond her hiding place.

Then she started to remember her own angry words toward her stepfather and mommy and she was seeing how her words were creating the monsters that were adding pain to them. Then she remembered her own angry words to God and all suddenly made sense, like some one turned on the light bulb.

A hiding place where she can heal…. words that create monsters…. blindness to each other… pain created…. anger toward God…

“OH!!!” she gasped. shame and fear arise in her. “I am sorry! I am so sorry! Forgive me! I did not realize… I never wanted to hurt them too! Oh Yeshua, I am so sorry…I did that too! I was angry at God too … !! Will He forgive me? Oh forgive me God!”

“I know,” Yeshua added, now being a bit silly,  “but He loves you anyway. He understands. Just TALK to Him, He loves to talk to you and He loves to be with you. You are here now! You will heal!” He smiled now looking at the girl. “ You can ask my Father anything! He always listens to you! I know He always knows how to talk to people and then we can talk to them together! I would so love to fight these monsters for your parents too!”  Jesus commented eagerly, his eyes sparkling in the anticipation of future victories.

Wide eyed she stared at Yeshua. A thousand questions ran through her mind. “What do you mean? Who is your father? I don’t know him! What do you mean – he listens to me!?

“Oooh. He LOVES you! He is soooo happy you wanted to be friends! He’s been waiting for that day from the beginning of time! He treasures every moment we are together. He listens to every word you say. To every thought you have, He is so in love with you. You are his chosen treasure, remember?!” Yeshua was joyfully proclaiming the statements that were so alien to the girl that she just kept looking to him in awe. Yeshua paused, then grinned with all his face and eyes and being and added “this is so cool! This is the perfect gift for your birthday!”

“What is?” whispered the girl.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Yeshua laughingly asked .

“Don’t get what?!”

“You being HERE today, you seeing your parents as they are now!” He was looking at her with anticipation.

“I … I still don’t understand” the girl uttered almost soundlessly.

“It is ok.” smiled Yeshua. “What did you want, what did you ask before we met?

“I wanted God to be real and for us to be friends.”

“What happened?”

“You came.”

“What did you want today?”

“I …. wanted to know why my parents are the way they are…”

“And my Father showed you that! He loves you! We are here, under His wings so you can rest, heal and be whole again, and feel safe! You still don’t understand? He IS YOUR FATHER TOO! ….. if you just let Him.”

As Yeshua was talking all the atmosphere stilled… then filled with a presence of Majesty. A man had silently come and joined them. He called the girl by name. Then opened his arms inviting her to embrace. She made one tentative step towards Him and He was already bending down toward her and scooping her up in embrace. Quiet words of reassurance, love and acceptance poured over her heart. One more dam of hurt collapsed and she emptied herself in tears in the safest place to be found, in the arms of the Majesty, King of the universe, her Father.

Her room was dark. The birthday table was cleaned up. As always – Her napkin neatly folded on the chair beside the table was waiting for a new day . As always – tomorrow she will go to school again. As always, her parents after their routine fight were asleep in the next room. But she was so full of the wonders from today’s visit, she could not sleep. Nothing was as always in her life now. She met her Father! She still could not believe it- God wanted to be her Father…. “Daddy.” she whispered and smiled. She loved the sound of this word and the feelings that this word created inside her. Daddy … Daddy…. Daddy… she repeated in her mind and smiled. “It is so cool to have you, Daddy”, she added in her mind.

Yeshua was stretching beside her and the kids were whispering to each other

“I want to give Him a gift.”

“Hmm? What kind of gift?”

“I don’t know. Something that would make Him smile. Does He like gifts?”

“Sure He does!”

In her mind she formed a kiss in the air. “For you, Daddy!” She whispered.  She blew the Kiss, then the Kiss stretched, the Kiss arranged its bright red dress, pinned her bright red hair with a sparkling water-drop pin and boldly marched upwards. The kiss ran into the throne room of the King, it climbed up His robes until it reached His face, then stretched her hands as wide as she just could and clung to His cheek! Booming laughter filled the atmosphere when the King found the Kiss from His little daughter hanging tight onto His cheek.

“I love you too!” He whispered. And the girl finally fell asleep.

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.  Psalm 91:1-4

Hello Sisters and Brothers,

It is a first for me to share something other than an original work by one of our contributors.  This stirring word from Lana Vawser goes to the heart of why Wholehearted Women exists – namely, to see believers step into the fullness of their identity in Christ.  I hope it inspires you to believe and move into the fullness of who you are IN Christ Jesus.  Love and blessings to you.

Here is the post from:  LanaVawser.com

THERE IS A GREAT OUTPOURING OF THE REVELATION OF HIS LOVE UPON THE DAUGHTERS OF GOD THAT IS GOING TO BRING THE GREATEST MANIFESTATION OF FREEDOM THEY HAVE EVER KNOWN

“Are you real?”  Where are you? I’m so scared and so very much alone!” A little girl of 7 or 8 was sitting on the end of an old bed hugging her legs and hiding her face in her knees. She was crying and talking to God: “In that fairytale you opened up the sea! And our neighbor, old Martha, said you are real and you hear what we say. I don’t like to be alone. Do you really hear me? Oh I wish so much you would be real! Please, be real!” she was sobbing and mumbling on.

“Lena has an imaginary friend. She was telling us about this friend who never leaves her and they play together all the time! My Mom thinks that is silly and it is better to play with real friends. But…. perhaps… could You, God, be my imaginary friend? How cool would that be? We could play together and you could stop the rain so we could stay outside longer! You could tell me if Uncle Oscar is sober and if it is safe to go home or not. You would know things like that, wouldn’t you? God knows all things, right? Oh! I wish you were real!”

“What if I am?” A calm voice filled with love and peace whispered the question inside the girl’s mind. She breathed in sharply and her breath caught in surprise and went still, listening and waiting.

IT WAS a dark and dirty room. The electricity was turned off a long time ago, so when evening came there were no bright lights to scare away dark shadows from scarce furniture, and long lights from passing cars were creating ghostly shapes on the old yellowish wallpaper.

“Hi. I would love to be your friend! “ A boy about the same age was mimicking the pose of the girl while sitting on the opposite side of the bed. But he was looking at the girl. There was something special about this boy. There was no fear in him. Endless peace and life radiated from him and all the room felt light. His curious eyes where fixed on the girl, waiting on her reply. She looked up from her knees and stared at the boy. She ought to be afraid to see a boy in the room, sitting on her bed, but there was no room left for anything but the miracle of this meeting.

“Cool!” mumbled the girl.  And then she added outlaid, “What’s your name?”

“Yeshua.”

“That’s the strangest name I have ever heard!” Then smilingly she added  – “But I like it! Will you stay and play with me?”

“I would love to stay with you! And I love to play too.”

“What is your favorite game?”

“Depends. But I love to fight monsters! Come!” He said to the girl jumping off the bed and stretching his hand out to her. She hesitated.

“I … I don’t like fighting. I will lose. And I definitely don’t like monsters.”

Yeshua stopped, came back to the bed, sat closer to the girl and gently said,

“I know. It’s not fun to lose. But I’m here to show you how to win. When you’re with me I won’t let any monster touch you. And…it’s gonna be SO MUCH FUN!” He added longingly. The anticipation and joy was brimming over him and becoming almost tangible. He could hardly sit still.

The girl had to smile. You know, true joy is contagious. Yeshua stood up from the bed and stretched his hand out again in invitation.

“Trust me! Come on! It IS gonna be FUN!!”

“Ooooh! Ok!” She said and jumped out of the bed and put her hand in the hand of Yeshua.

A school yard. It was sunny day and the kids where on their lunch break. In a small cluster they were enjoying their lunches from home. Laughter and conversation filled the small courtyard of the school. The biggest group of kids was sitting under the tree, and some others were on the grass.

“Look there!” whispered Yeshua.

Yeshua pointed to the end of the courtyard where three boys were standing. Two of them were laughing at the third one. The third boy was sitting on the ground and hiding his face in his arms, while the other two were shouting sarcastic and angry words at him.

“HEY YOU! Chicken!….CHICK- KEN!”

Then as the words were said, suddenly a huge and angry hen appeared in the air. It was twice the size of the kid yelling the words. The chicken ruffled its feathers, looked around and then when it found the subject of the words, started to go towards the sitting boy.

“Do you see it? Asked Yeshua anxiously.

“Wow! Yeah, what is that?”

“The chicken; the word-monster created by that boy!”

“What!? she looked at Yeshua perplexed. “There are NO word-monsters!”

“Yes, there ARE! Don’t you SEE?”

“Where did it come from?”

“The boy created it!”

“How?!”

“Every time you say words you CREATE what you proclaim!”

She looked at Yeshua stunned. Then she looked at the ugly chicken that was approaching the boy.

“YOU UGLY CHICKEN!!!” Yelled the pair, and with every word the chicken-monster grew even bigger. The hen attacked and the boy shrugged every time its huge beak bit at his head, shoulders, arms and back.

“Do something!” cried the girl. “You said it was gonna be fun, and it’s NOT!!” She was anxiously shaking Yeshua’s arm.

“Just wait and see!” Yeshua told her and ran up to the besieged boy. He whispered something in his ear. The boy got still, and then he looked up.

“I forgive you,” he whispered. “I am an eagle.” He quietly but confidently pronounced.

At the same moment a mighty eagle appeared and ascended from the sky above. With one swift circle he plucked up the ugly, screaming chick and threw it in the air where it disappeared. Then it flew down and stood behind the boy, covering him with its wings.

Yeshua was hooping and dancing beside the boy. Then he looked at the girl and called out,

“I told you IT’S SO MUCH FUN!”

The girl watching the scene was stunned. “Yeah!! But what happened? What is it?”

“Simple!” Said Yeshua while sitting down beside the girl.

“Life and death are in the power of your words. Choose life! Proclaim life! CREATE Life!”

“But it’s not real!” Protested the girl.

“Oh, really? Does it hurt you when some one calls you names? How can it hurt you if it is not real?”

She was thinking. Remembering all the hurtful words said about her in school and at home. In her mind every word became a sword or an axe; and then she saw the monsters attacking her, cutting her open and leaving her bleeding. Tears again started to run down her cheeks. A quiet but concerned voice caught her attention,

“I would love to help you? Please, honey I can’t watch you suffer like this, please, please let me stop this!” She looked at him and tilted her head.

“Can you? Please!”

In the next moment, both of them were in an open space. The air was filled with the smell of honey and flowers. Feelings of comfort, security, love and coziness filled the atmosphere. Yeshua sat down in a big bean-bag chair and breathed out in relief.

“Come, we need to talk” she was still looking around in amazement.

“Where are we? What is this place?” she asked.

“One of the hiding places in my Fathers house.”

“Your Father’s house?”

“Yeah.” Replied Yeshua smilingly. “I come here every time I need to think or hide or rest. And by the way, He said to tell you that you are always very welcome to come here too!”

The girl looked at him with wide eyes filled with surprise, hope and disbelief. But Yeshua was back to the subject He had started on before,

“Listen. I have some questions for you. You said you don’t believe that words can hurt, but they do! Do you know WHY or how?”

“I am not sure.” the girl remarked sadly.

“They hurt because they become REAL when you believe them. They are real monsters, created by those who speak them into existence. But you have the power to stop them.”

“How?”

“Easy!” Smiled Yeshua. “First, you must recognize that they are lies, know that they are not true. Then, you think the opposite and CREATE that by pronouncing it aloud. You, as champion, will win over the monster! Simple. Do you see?” announced Yeshua, beaming with a smile.

“But there are so many of them!”

“I know,” remarked Yeshua gently. “But we will fight them one by one. And I will be with you! I will help.”

“OK.” she said.

A sound from somewhere became audible;

“That worthless brat!” and a sound of braking dishes filled the old room.

The kids were sitting on the old bed. The girl froze. Yeshua looked at her and his eyes were full of joy and anticipation.

“Here we go! Trust me! I am with you! Lets have FUN!”

“THAT BRAT…!” and through the wall a gray misshapen monster started to appear with black empty eyes… .

“You KNOW this is a lie, right?”

The girl just nodded.

“Look at me! Don’t look at him, look at me!” the girl looked at Yeshua with eyes full of tears and fear. Yeshua was brimming with love, joy and confidence. Little flames of laughter danced in his eyes. “Repeat after me. That is a big fat lie!”

“That is a big fat lie” whispered the girl in a trembling voice.

“You are an AWESOME TREASURE!”

…. Silence. Tears ran down her face.

“I can’t say it. I don’t believe it.”

“I believe it! I know it! Say that I told you that you are an AWESOME TREASURE! You can say it in MY name. Use MY faith. It’s OK!” the boy Yeshua offered eagerly.

“OK. I will try…Yeshua says that I am an awesome treasure.” Whispered the girl and the room stilled.

“Good! See, it works! Say it again, and louder, so that this thing hears it too!”

“I am an awesome treasure, that’s what Yeshua says.” Pronounced the girl out loud.

The monster stopped just five steps from the kids. It started to tremble, crunched up its face and started weeping out loud. Then the girl repeated her announcement and a shining brilliant stone, like a flower bud in appearance materialized from the sound that the words created. Yeshua touched the stone and it opened. Bright blue and white light shot out filling the room destroying any darkness and presence of the monster.  The girl started to laugh and every sound coming out of her mouth formed different shapes and colors creating marvelous creatures that wrapped both kids in Royal Presence…

“You ARE AN AWESOME TREASURE!” Yeshua proclaimed with wonder.

The old woman next door was talking to her old friend – God. “Thank you for my little friend!” she said. “She needed to meet you. Now I am in peace. I know you will take care of her. I was concerned, but if not for your advice I would never have thought that the story of Moses and crossing the sea would be the one that would catch her attention! Thank you Lord!”

And the angels were standing guard by the window of the praying old lady and the little girl who was enjoying her newfound friend, Jesus.