“Lean on, trust in, and be confident in the Lord with all your heart
and mind and do not rely on your own insight or understanding.  In all
of your ways know, recognize, and acknowledge Him, and He will direct
and make straight and plain your paths.”  Proverbs 3:5- 6 AMP

My middle daughter turned 13 a few weeks ago.  She wanted to have her
ears pierced for her birthday, so we headed to the mall.  After the
successful piercing, we decided to meander around the other stores for
a bit.  “Mom, I’ve got to go!”, one of my daughter’s chimed.  There’s no
easy place to find a restroom in the mall, but I knew we were close
to the food court, so we headed that direction.

There used to be stairs and an escalator at this end of the mall, but with remodeling
they had removed the stairs.  I’m not a fan of escalators.  

I didn’t grow up terrified of escalators.  I kind of thought they were fun as a
youth, and like most kids, I would ride them in circuit if I could
get away with it.  A few years ago though, some damage was done
to my inner ear, and certain movements send me into panic mode.  Much
has improved, and I usually can do motion a lot better, so I thought
surely the escalator ride would be a breeze this time.  I also didn’t
want to search a near by department store for an elevator, which is
what I normally do.  So, I sent my daughter ahead of me, and stepped
onto the moving steps, holding onto the insync rail.  I stared at the
steps in front of me, not wanting to miss it when I had to step off.
You know the awkward stumble off if you don’t.  All was good, until
about three fourths the way up, and all of a sudden it felt like I was
going to fall backwards off the thing.  My grip tightened.

In an instant, my heart was pounding, my hands and feet cold and clammy, my
face red, and images of falling filling my head.  I tried leaning
forward as far as I could, and called my daughter’s name in
desperation.  I jumped off the thing, unnerved, and headed to the
bathroom.

My husband and other kids met us before we were to head down.  “I need
to find an elevator.” I stated trying to explain to my husband.  I had
almost changed directions when I heard the voice in my ear.  “I want
you to go down the escalator.”  “What?”  Immediately, I tried to
reason with the Holy Spirit, as my pastor calls Him, Holy Sneaky.  It
didn’t work.  He said, “Remember the boat?”

A few years back when our churches merged, Papa talked to me a lot of
about getting into a boat, which of course is not the best place to be
when you have motion issues.  That summer He had provided the
opportunity for a day with some friends on Lake Junaluska.  What He taught me is
that is if you keep your eyes on the horizon, then you won’t feel sick
and in my case panic.  At the time, I didn’t even know this to be a
proven scientific thing.  I had just trusted, obeyed, gotten in the
boat, and for dear life kept my eyes on the horizon.  I lived.  It was
actually somewhat fun until we went in circles.  But I made it with
little issue.

“Don’t look at the steps.  Keep your eyes up on where I am taking
you.”  I knew immediately what He meant, but at first I wanted to run
to find the elevator.  In a split decision to just trust Him, I
grabbed the shoulder of my husband in front of me, and took that first
precarious step to ride the escalator down.  I resisted my instincts
to focus on the moving steps in front of me, and looked out where I
was going to go in the mall.  I was fine.  I could hardly believe it,
but it hadn’t bothered me in the least.

I have found in the last few weeks, this event something Papa has
referred me back to over and over again.  See, you really can’t submit
and obey with your whole heart, unless you can trust your heavenly Father.

What if He asks you to take a step into the unknown?  What if He asks
you to speak a word of encouragement that makes no sense? Or how
about a complete change of direction in ministry?  Or maybe it’s
saying yes, when asked to do something by a leader or your spouse, and
it’s not what you wanted to do?  Can you trust your heavenly Father,
to take care of you, to work it out for your good?

We can play it safe, never stepping out, and missing what God has for
us.  Or we may try to figure out all the steps, and find ourselves
dizzy, panicked, overwhelmed. OR if we can just trust God, take the leap
He’s asking us, get our eyes off the steps, and onto Him and where He
is taking us, we will find the ride much more pleasant.  It might even
feel like fun!

“Trust and obey for there’s no other way to happy in Jesus, but to
trust and obey.”  The words to the old hymn ring true.  You really
can’t have one without the other.

I’ve listened to the song, “Good, Good Father” a lot in the last
couple of weeks, as I have grieved a transition in my own life.  I don’t
like change.  I like safety and stability.  I’m not normally a cliff
jumper seeking a thrill.  I have issues riding escalators!  But
whether it’s jumping off a cliff, or stepping on moving steps, it all
takes some trust, some courage to do what you’re afraid to do.  It takes some
submission to His authority, and an act of obedience.  You really
can’t know that you are truly trusting someone, without the action of obedience.
Just keep your eyes up, dear friends, and your focus on where He is
taking you.  It will be a fun ride.

Activation Prayer

Father,I trust you.  Help me to trust you.  I can’t do anything outside of
you.  Everything good comes from you.  You have filled me with the Spirit
of Jesus.  I am more than an overcomer, because Jesus lives in me, and
the very nature and essence of God fills my being.  I am confident in
you!  I lean completely into you!  If you move, I move.  My eyes are
fixed on you and where you are taking me.  Not on the steps, because
they can feel overwhelming at times.  Holy Spirit, I trust you to
guide me, to lead me into all truth, to lead me down the paths that
you have for me.  You are the great counselor.  I won’t lean on my own
understanding, but in all my ways, I will acknowledge you and look to
you for guidance, so I know what  steps to take.  I trust you to lead
me on the right paths, and to make my way straight even when it seems
windy, or unclear.  I trust you; therefore, I submit and obey, because
I know you.  I know your character.  I know you love me!  I trust you,
because I know you love me and have my best in interest in mind!  I am
yours.  You are mine.  In Jesus’s Name, AmenI

Last week I lost my Daddy.  He was 89 years old, a kind man, a gentleman and a good Daddy too.  I wrote this post called, “Veteran’s Day,” on Veteran’s Day 2015, but I thought it was worthy of a repost to honor my Daddy:

This morning the Lord showed me a vivid image of my Dad on the submarine he served on in World War II. He was on deck watch at night alone. It was extremely dark out across the sea and he felt small and alone. Yet he knew very strongly that the Lord was with him. He looked at the brilliance and the vast number of the stars and knew he was not alone. Father God said that at that time my Dad was like Jonah, a prophet that he took to his destiny by traveling beneath the waves. He took Dad from the desert of Texas to the seas and transported him back and forth across the Pacific until he arrived in Los Angeles so he would meet Mom and fulfill his destiny.

Like Abraham my Dad became a father to many.  A stepfather/Daddy to my two sister’s, a father to my brothers and me, a grandfather, great-grandfather and now, at 87, a great-great-grandfather.  In addition to all of us, he has been a father figure and strong support to many who were family by choice.

The image was so clear and so unexpected, like a movie playing in my head.  The really neat thing is that I didn’t even remember that it was Veteran’s Day, but the Lord honored my Pop’s service before my very eyes.  How much better salute can a man get?

Recently, my wife posted a wonderful blog about her journey in the Land of AWKWARD. So, if you haven’t read it yet, take a few minutes, go to her blog on this site and read it – then come back here if you want. That’s OK. I’ll wait…

[🎵 Music on hold.. 🎶 ]

[🎼 🎻 Dum diddle de dum🎹 🎷]

Welcome back! How did her blog grab you? Is this happening to you? Do you ask God for a word from Him about someone and act on what He tells you?

Adel has become really diligent at doing this. I’m coming along. In fact, I felt that I was lagging behind my wife in her spiritual walk and hearing from God, so I did something fairly radical (for me, anyway) – I asked God to help me take time to not just ask Him for stuff, but to help me hear what He has to say when I pray.

I didn’t really know what to expect. How would He do that? Would it feel like the way cartoons show it – a voice coming out of a cloud with a lightning bolt? A voice in my head (Lord, please don’t make me a weirdo, hearing strange voices!) Would he stir something in my brain and let me know with a still, small voice that it is God talking?

As Adel wrote, there have been times that He gives her a word of knowledge about someone and guides her in what to say. It’s awesome when He has given me another dimension on that word and I join in.

So… I’ve been on a business trip for the past 2 weeks. I stayed in a nice hotel, had most of my meals there and got to know a number of the servers. Most of them were open to me talking about God and Jesus and stuff. One young woman who is a believer was especially receptive. But it didn’t get terribly deep. After all, I didn’t want to be this religious nut, especially since I was representing my company, and this was work.

But my last meal there, I decided to celebrate and get a really good steak dinner. I planned to go out of the hotel and try a different restaurant. But when I went to the Hotel Lobby, I ran into the young woman, with whom I had several conversations, and was going to say goodbye and then head out. When I asked her where to go for a really good steak, she asked if I hadn’t had a steak at the Hotel Restaurant, because that is what they were known for (and named after – duh!). So I walked into the seating area and got a table.

My waiter was a young man, early 20’s, millennial, ambitious. When he said that he would be my “food and beverage specialist” for the evening, I asked if that meant he would be my waiter and laughed. But he was very serious.

He guided me through the choices, recommended a wonderful steak selection and a great side and I ordered a glass of wine that paired with the meal. He also said that he would send out their famous bread made with yucca flour and cheese, accompanied by a tomato salsa.

The steak came out, and the side dish, but no bread. It was a slow night there and I was halfway through the meal when he returned to the table to ask me how the steak was. I said that it was absolutely delicious and then joked that it would be even better with their yucca bread. He asked if I would like some and I reminded him that he had said he would send it out. His immediate response was, “That’s not my fault!” After a moment he said he would bring some out to me.

His defensive response of blaming someone else and taking absolutely no responsibility for a very minor thing that went wrong really hit me the wrong way. I admit that my flesh rose up and I had to hold my tongue. AWKWARD.

But when he left my table and headed for the kitchen, I quickly asked God if He had something He wanted me to tell this young man. I waited just a moment, looked up to see if there was a cloud with lightning (sorry, not really) but immediately thought of Gideon! And then I remembered that when Gideon was being a coward and hiding in a wine press to thresh wheat, the angel of the Lord appeared to him and said, “Mighty hero, the Lord is with you!”

The angel of the Lord did not point out Gideon’s weaknesses – He pointed out how God saw him. He called Gideon into his identity and destiny.

The young man came back with the bread. The Lord inspired me to ask if he dreams a lot. AWKWARD. But I did. He had a rather shocked look on his face and said, “Yes – I dream a LOT! How do you know that?” I told him that I had been praying for him and that God put in my thoughts that he dreams. I asked if he wanted to know more, and he said “Yes!” So I told him that God sees him as a strong leader, but that he doesn’t always step into that role when he knows he should.

He was really shocked. He said that is exactly him and asked how I guessed that by only hearing that he dreams. I told him that I didn’t guess, I simply heard from God about him when I was praying for him. I asked if he is a Christian and he said something like – not really, that he that he grew up in church, but is studying psychology and is looking at different motivational and meditation techniques.

Then I asked if he knew the story of Gideon in the Bible. He said he had never heard of him so I asked if he knew that God parted the Red Sea and took Israel through it when they left slavery in Egypt. He did know that story, so I told him that in the Promised Land, Israel was under attack by Middianites, and told him about Gideon hiding and God calling him a mighty warrior when he was not acting like one. He saw the parallel with his own behavior.

His only Bible was a King James and he didn’t ever read it. I suggested that he download the Youversion App and read Judges 6 & 7 in the New Living Translation. He said he definitely would do that! I gave him the basics of the story of Gideon, about the fleece, how God shrunk Gideon’s army from 32,000 to 10,000 to 300 and then used that 300 to defeat the enormous enemy army. Neat story. But the neater story is how God showed Gideon his identity and destiny by simply calling him Mighty Hero! And He did the same for that young food and beverage specialist that evening.

Turns out, it wasn’t so AWKWARD after all.

Recently, after a busy day, my family and I stopped in for a late lunch early dinner at a pub we had been wanting to try.  It was around 4 pm so it was not very busy.  Just one other couple in a booth and a guy at the bar.  We ordered some fish & chips and a beer. The young waitress seemed bored and distracted.  The place wasn’t quite what we had hoped, but the Lord really took my attention to our server.

In my mind’s eye I saw her as a dancer and a swirl of what I can only describe as creativity encircled her.  Holy Spirt shared some other insights about her with me and I felt like I had the beginnings of the picture He wanted to share with her.  Well we were waiting for our food and she was clearly bored, so I excused myself from the table and approached her at the bar.  I smiled and said, “Hey, when you passed by just now, I had an impression that you are a dancer.  Is that true?”  AWKWARD!

I was really hoping she would say yes and I wouldn’t have to figure out what to say next.  “Well”, she said, “I used to be.”  “Oh yeah”, I said, “I feel like it was a real passion for you.”  “Yes, it was” she replied and explained why it had ended.  I asked, “Are you painting now?  Her eyes got big and she told me about the painting class she was just considering taking.  I excitedly supported her inspiration about taking the class.  I told her a few of the things that Holy Spirit was opening up to her and the way she might use that to inspire people and to show them the love of God.   She was so excited and the scornful look had vanished.  In its place was love and enthusiasm.

I asked if I could pray for her about the things God was doing in her life.  “Yes, please!” she said.  We stood holding hands over the bar and we had a great time praying in agreement with the things Holy Spirit had showed me and, though our meal was mediocre, my sister in Christ had her eyes lifted up to a new level.  She could now see a larger picture of the destiny God has planned for her instead of the sad and tiny picture she was experiencing before we walked in.

Another day, I was heading into the gym.  As I walked to the door, a very large, very powerful looking man was ahead of me.  He opened the door and looked past me, seemingly waiting for someone.  As I approached he acknowledged me and held the door open for me, but he kept looking searchingly beyond me.  I am not easily intimidated, but I thought to myself that this man was the real deal.  A truly tough man.  Not just physically strong but truly tough.  My impression was that he was some kind of enforcer.  Maybe hired muscle for some organization.  Their was an air of calm about him, but also a deep hurt and longing that was noticeable.

I went on in to the gym and got on the elliptical machine.  The machine was next to the window facing the street.  As I was getting on the machine and putting on my headphones, I was aware that the man entered the gym and walked behind me to the cubbies where he was setting his things.  He still seemed to be waiting for someone.  I had just settled into a good rhythm when I noticed a power box coming out from the grass mow strip near the street.  In my mind’s eye the power box suddenly had many cords plugged into it.  I understood that this was a message the Lord wanted me to communicate to the giant, intimidating man.  AWKWARD! And risky!

I quickly stopped the machine and took my headphones off as I headed over to the man who was preparing to start his workout.  I wanted to get to him before he began so I wouldn’t interrupt.   I introduced myself and asked if I could talk with him for a minute.  “Sure,” he said and told me his name as he shook my hand with his giant one while looking down on me.

I told him that I had noticed his strength when I saw him outside.  “But,” I said, ” I feel like everyone taps into your strength and that you feel like they all use your strength for their own purposes, but no one is ever there for you.  Does that sound right?”  As I spoke, his whole giant focus fell on me.  AWKWARD!  But, as my words came out, he nodded his head in agreement. I could feel the fatigue and sadness.  “How do you know that?” he asked.   I answered him, “Well, sometimes God talks to me about people.  Today He wanted you to know that He is your power supply.  He wants you to know that He is strong for you and He is always there for you.  He will never leave you and you are never alone.  He wants you to lean on His strength and talk to Him about the things that concern you.”

This giant of a man blinked away a tear.  He seemed doubtful that God would want to talk to him.   In my nervousness, I didn’t spend much more time with him.   I suddenly felt a little like he would think I was hitting on him like some cougar! 🐾 AWKWARD!   I should have prayed with him, but that day, I just went back to my machine.  I don’t always and probably never do it perfectly.  The more I do it, the more comfortable I get with awkward.  I have hope that one day I will overcome the fear of man enough to entirely focus on the person in front of me.

On any given day when you’re just minding your own business, going to the grocery store, the coffee shop or a pub,  the Holy Spirit can drop a thought in your mind or show you an image  or impression about a fellow shopper that you were not expecting.  More than that, many times He isn’t just telling you about them, but enlisting your service!

If, like me, you happen to be actively trying to hear and distinguish God’s voice, and see people the way he sees them, life has become an adventure in THE LAND OF AWKWARD!

God just doesn’t seem to mind making us uncomfortable.  In fact, I think He really enjoys putting us in opposition to our pride!  Often times I sense a mischievous smile behind His instigation.  I know His heart and I know He is a multi-tasker who rarely, if ever, accomplishes only one thing at a time.  I trust Him that my obedience, however AWKWARD it feels, will bring something good for the person to whom He is sending me, and grow my trust in Him too.

In the early days of my obedience in these adventures, it did feel like I was sent into the land of giants and they surely looked at me as if I was a grasshopper.   I cared a lot about how I was perceived and my stomach would quiver and my hands shake as I went to speak with the person God put before me.  I’m sure I exhibited signs of the crazy person I feared they would take me for.

For me and my family, the scenes I described above are not unusual.  They are a daily occurence.  Sometimes the word comes to me, other times to my husband or sometimes both.  The times when it is to both of us are fun.  Holy Spirit gives us complimentary information to make up the whole picture.  We get to minister to the person together!

When it is me, He calls my attention to a particular person by various means and then gives me a word of knowledge or a prophetic image that I must interpret.  Then comes the first AWKWARD part. Was this really His voice or was it my own?  Did I understand correctly what He was showing me?  Did I interpret it correctly?

In the end, it’s not a question of WHETHER I am going to say something to this unsuspecting stranger, but a question of WHAT I’m going to say and HOW am I going say it.  I want to approach the person in a way that opens them up to God’s heart for them and, hopefully 🙄,  makes me seem not entirely crazy!

Almost always, the piece of information He has given me is pretty minimal.  Not enough to put the whole story together.  This is where faith comes in.  I have to trust that once I start talking, He will download the rest of what I need quickly and fully.  Now I just need a way to start a conversation about the topic I’ve been given.  AWKWARD!

Occasionally, I miss it.  I will ask them a question about what I think I have seen or heard to see if it applies.  “No,” they say!  “I don’t have a brother named Stephen, why?” DOUBLE AWKWARD!

It is a little embarrassing, but when I admit that I’m learning to hear from God and I must have made a mistake, I am, almost always, let off the hook.  I know that God DOES want to bless this person, so I ask if I can just bless them anyway.  Very rarely am I turned down, and sometimes the greatest blessing comes in praying with this child of God.

SOMETIMES only as I begin to pray does my sneaky savior give me the download, and THEN He touches the person in an amazing way!  Most likely I will never see this person again in this life.  But at the very least, they go away knowing that God has a good opinion of them.  That they are treasure in His sight.

If I focus on what the person before me might think about me, it becomes all about me and I lose sight of the treasure that they are to God.

By giving me a word of knowledge or prophetic word about a person, the Lord has opened my eyes and given me a glimpse of the treasure he sees in the person.  If I overcome my fear of man and speak the little that he has given me, it becomes a window and sometimes a door to see more fully and, more importantly, for the person to see more fully the heart of God toward them and the treasure that He sees in them!

Several years have passed since I began following the Lord into the Land of AWKWARD and it is still a bit unnerving every time.  It probably always will be.  But I want to be able to come back to God and show Him the fruit of the land; the precious hearts, that He has sent me to reconcile to Him. I want to see the treasure in people the way God sees it and share the truth of what He sees with them.

Father, help me to stay focused on the treasure you have put before me, and your desire that I value them and bring them into your heart. Help me to see how amazing they are and how awesome it is to treat them as my own brother or sister.   Help me to overcome my fear of AWKWARD.

“But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Is. 64:8 ESV

At the beginning of this week, I sat with Gary Wilson, master potter. I went to observe him crafting clay mugs. It was all out of character for me. God had set me up the Saturday before as I had asked Him what He wanted to write about. He said one word, “TRUST’. Sometimes I feel HE has such a funny sense of humor. Me, write about trust? Trust has been something extremely violated for me. And yet it is one of the sweetest things He is growing in me. So, I probed further with the Lord. What scripture verses do you want me to write about? “The potter and the clay”, HE responded.

Over the course of the next two days, I found myself not only with Gary Wilson’s contact information, but me corresponding with him about a possible time to come and observe him creating his pieces of art. I am not one to contact nor go to the home a man I have never met. There was a time I fought with my mom over who would call the pizza man. And yet, there I was sitting on a stool next to a master potter throwing his clay lumps on a wheel in his garage. This is what I learned from that experience.

First of all, it’s the water that makes the clay moldable. The water lubricates the clay to allow the potter to form it in his hands as the wheel spins around. The water would be likened to the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives, as the Father molds us into what He wants us to become. If there is too much water sitting in the clay, the bottom will crack and the pot will become useless. Just like if we sit in the presence of the Holy Spirit, soaking in His goodness, but don’t allow Him to change us, and use the gifts and calling He places in us, we become soggy, cracked, useless. We must be willing to not only hear what He is saying, but do it. Trust is an action. We can say we trust someone all day long, but until we take the action of obeying, we aren’t really trusting them.

Trust defined is a firm assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something. One in whom confidence is placed. I like how the Amplified version expands the meaning to “Lean on, trust in, be confident in the Lord with all your heart and mind…” Prov. 3:5 Leaning in on him, putting your weight on, so that He’s carrying you. I was horrible at playing the trust game growing up. I only tried it once with a guy friend in college, and I literally could not make myself fall back on him. Can I fall back on Jesus, leaning myself into His chest?

Mesmerized as I watch the masters potter’s hands, I hear Abba’s whisper in my ear. “You can trust me, daughter. My hands are the most skilled, gentle, loving, yet firm, and know exactly how to pull up the clay, work out the small stones and imperfections. I am the master potter. I know what I am doing. You can fully trust me. Relax back into my loving hands.”

As Gary is working, he is explaining to me the process. “A good potter, only needs to lift the clay three times. You can’t overwork the clay.” Lifting is the process of making the sides of the pot or in this case, mug. Our heavenly Father won’t pull us more than we need. He won’t overwork us.

He goes on, “Natural clay has small rocks in it. You must work the rocks completely out before placing it in the fire, because if you don’t, as it heats up the rocks will explode destroying the pot and damaging the kiln.” Can we trust God to work all of our rocks out of our hearts, so we won’t self-destruct when the heat is turned up?

As I continued to watch the potter caress the clay, I listened as he spun stories of family and friends, lessons from a life well lived. That whisper came again to my ear, “Trust is built through relationship. Trust is formed through intimacy. Coming back into listening again, Gary says, “You know that this ball of clay may want to be a pretty vase to sit on my shelf. But I love this one, and I created it for intimacy, so I will make it into a mug, and it will always be close to me.”

I asked him, “Do you know what it’s going to look like before you start?” I was surprised by his answer. “No.”, he said, “You are responding to what the clay lets the potter do. The potter works with the clay, and every clump of clay is different.” So, though the potter knows the function for which the clay is purposed for, the clay determines how that mug or pot will look. “Some clay is simply unworkable, and there is very limited things I can do with it. The more workable the clay, the more I can do with it, and the more beautiful the piece in the end will become.”

This struck me more than anything else. God knows the purpose for which He has created us, the function we are to have. But all of us are so unique, that He chooses to work with each of us in the way each of us will respond to His touch. His touch is so attuned to our uniqueness, strengths, weaknesses, personality traits and quirkiness. He knows just how to help us to become the beautiful piece of pottery that He desires, but it is our willingness to allow Him to shape and form us that determines what He can do with us. Every lump of clay responds differently to the touch of the master potter. He knows this already. He loves us, and works his beauty through it all to the degree we allow Him to.

Sometimes it’s easy to get into striving and thinking that I am responsible for things that are not mine to take.  Often times Abba needs to remind me who is really in charge. I hear Him saying over and over, “Daughter, lean back into my arms. And just trust me. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.  I am the potter. You are the clay. You can trust my hands. I know what I am doing.” The more I yield to His touch, the more He can do in me and through me. So, trust His loving hands, dear friends. Let Him remove the little stones, and impurities, so you don’t self destruct. Let Him mold you into the beautiful creation He desires you to be. Yield to His touch. You can trust Him.

Freedom. I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve grown so accustomed to the fence around me. And yet I see myself in a wide open field and my heavenly Father has kicked down the fence.

“Come enjoy the field. Come smell the flowers and eat the fruit,” I hear my Jesus beckon. I find myself standing there in the middle of where the fence once stood. It feels safer here, but there is no abundant life standing here in the middle of this self-imposed prison.

Can I really venture out and explore what’s beyond? What is freedom without stepping out and learning to enjoy all God has made for me? The destiny He has called me to.

The enemy would love for us to stay locked up behind the fence, but the fence is already gone. So the next best thing is to paralyze us in fear of the unknown, or condemn us that we aren’t worthy to enjoy His life and freedom, when really we have nothing to fear. Our good shepherd has already defeated the lying thief.

So I take the shaky step out of my imaginary fence line and with each step I take my confidence grows. I have been so afraid of making a mistake, but even if I do fail and fall or begin to wander, the Shepherd promises to pick me up, to lead me safely home to Him.

Trust. It’s takes much more trust to go enjoy the field. Can I trust Him? He won’t leave or forsake me. I choose to trust Him. So I step…

The gentle rain. It’s steadily coming down as I sit under cover listening to the calm. Refreshing, rejuvenating rain patting the pavement with circles.

Sometimes my heart feels like the parched ground in desperate need of a long cool drink. Today I take a long draw of that life giving water. “Come to me who are thirsty, and I will give you a drink.  Come to the table those who are hungry, and I will fill your mouth with good things.” To the Samaritan woman at the well… “If you had a drink from the water I would give you you wouldn’t thirst again. It would bubble up in you into eternal life.” Now we are talking.

Rape. To be stripped of one’s dignity, respect, sexuality, honor, purity, virginity by the selfish lust of another. For one’s soul to be crushed, especially the younger this happens to. To call it by another name, makes it more acceptable, not as hard to say. But for those who have been stripped and humiliated by it, it feels like a whitewashed wall, like you are trying to hide what it really is. One in three women have been touched by it. I was one of those.

Though I understand the pain, I also have met the healer. I remember the trauma of it, but I no longer feel it’s pain as I once did, because I have let His love into those painful places. His love never rapes. It’s taken me a long time to believe that. Trusting Father God not to give me a stone, when I ask for bread has been extremely hard at times. But I am learning He truly is good. He truly does love us. And He truly understands our pain. He takes away the shame of our youth. He heals the broken hearted. He never wanted those things to happen to us, but sometimes He chooses to suffer with us through it, rather than take us out. Free will is a concept I still wrestle with God on. But I know He promises to make it all right in the end. And as hard as it is at times, I can trust Him.

Dry, stripped ground, desperate for a drink of life giving water. Wells gone dry. And He shows up at our well. And says give me a drink. We know full well we have nothing to offer Him. Our own well water has been polluted, violated by the enemy, poisoned by our own self hatred or unforgivingness, by the sin of others and ourselves. I hear His voice tenderly whisper, “Here. Let me help you.” He knows our condition, and He still offers Himself, the living water. Can you see yourself taking a drink of it? Maybe a sip at first on dry parched lips. The living water He gives begins to seep into our souls deep down into the ground filling the well inside of us with a bubbling brook. No longer just a well, but a river of life.

The quiet sound of the rain… Gently loosing the ground so that His love can seep in. Let His love seep in.

Walls.  Some are thick, others are thin, tall, short, stone, brick, wood, plaster.  They are used to protect.  To keep something out or to keep something in.  Most times they are constructed so that others can’t see what’s behind them.  Certainly they can be useful.  I’ve used them well to protect myself from others’ brokenness or to protect them from mine.  The walls we erect to protect our hearts are amazingly complex creations and sometimes extremely useful, but they almost always isolate us in our brokenness behind them.

God has been faithfully removing my walls for years now, stone by stone, mostly, but sometimes He has exploded them.  My heart has been a labyrinth of walls, a maze of cold stones that I built to protect myself.  I don’t blame myself for that.  It was needed when I was a child.  It felt I had no safe place growing up, no one who I could trust with my broken heart.  Woundedness is like that, especially deep, bleeding wounds.  Why do we tend to hide them instead of running for help?  Maybe because when we got our first wounds they were overlooked, or ignored, or another wound was added.  So we hide behind walls and bleed to death slowly.

But light loves to penetrate darkness.  It has a way of seeping through the cracks in our walls and begins breaking through.

I was talking to a trusted mother in Christ about thoughts I was struggling with recently.  For the first time in my life, a mom figure looked me in the eyes and said, “We need to have a girl talk.”   I am in my late 40s and I don’t ever remember having a girl talk with a mom figure.  She leaned in, with no flinching and shared with me her struggles, in her own thought life that had matched mine.  She offered me a great gift of communion with my suffering.  She sat with me in my shame, and offered me a piece of Jesus’s broken body.  That stronghold in my mind came crashing down.

Sometimes we don’t need great advice or Bible thumping. Sometimes we just desperately need to be known behind the wall, and have someone offer us the loving communion of being there, of letting us in behind their walls.  Isn’t this what Jesus did?  Touched the untouchables.  He restored limbs and fingers eaten away by disease, restored the untouchable outcast to humanity to community, to family.   He walked right through walls offering His wounded hands and side to a doubting Thomas.  ”Press into my woundedness, doubting one and be healed.”  But Jesus won’t come uninvited.  When He knocks on the door in the wall, we have to let Him in.

I once led a women’s Bible study at my home.  It was during a very hard time of pulling walls down in my journey.  I found myself being very raw with these ladies in an effort to stay sane.  They would often nod their heads in acknowledgement, but just listen to my pain.  Then one day after months of this, in desperation, I asked, “Doesn’t anyone else struggle with bad thoughts or feelings like these?”.   Then the eldest and youngest of the group spoke up acknowledging that they indeed did. But why had they left me struggling in my thoughts for these months without a word?

Maybe we are afraid that in speaking of our weakness,  we will somehow become weaker.  But what I keep finding is when I am weak, He is strong.  When I let trusted others behind my walls, the walls themselves begin to crumble.  Even that requires risk, because all of us come with some broken places.  All of us have the ability to cut each other.  But how long is it going to take for me not to be afraid of being cut?  Isn’t the fear of being broken or of breaking others what has a kept me the prisoner behind these walls anyway?  At first we may feel protected by them but, in the end, walls around our hearts imprison us.

Now I am not talking about wallowing together in negativity.  The purpose is never to get comfortable together in the pig stye, but to offer a hand to lead to the house of the Father.  To make a sacrifice of praise, embracing the cross together.

Maybe, just maybe it’s time to begin letting some light in those cracks.  Maybe it’s time to step from behind the walls and take a fresh breath of God’s breath.  Breath in and out communion with Him, then maybe even with some trusted other broken ones.  Maybe it’s time to let Jesus press His wounds into ours and be healed.  Maybe it’s ok to let others see our wounded places, and it’s ok to see theirs.

It’s scary.  I know.  Believe me.  I know.  I’ve been cut deeply before and had to hide the wounds in order to survive.  Sometimes it feels like a kind of death, death to my pride, to my survival mechanisms.   But when will I finally lay down the fear, let the walls be demolished and walk free…

The seed that was planted in the ground must die for it to bring forth life.  The husk that trapped life within must fall away and something entirely different springs forth.

Jesus’ earthly body was laid to rest in a borrowed tomb.  Who borrows a tomb?  Someone who intends to give it back when it is no longer needed.

On the third day, He rose again to new life.  He rose again in a glorified body that was entirely new and different from what was laid in the earth.  This new body could walk through walls and appear and disappear in a breath.

In Genesis 1:11, on the third day of creation, all of the seed bearing plants and trees were brought forth, the ones that produced fruit and seed after their own kind.  Similarly, on the third day, when Jesus arose from the tomb, He produced seed-bearing fruit after His own kind.

When He ascended He did not take those who believed with Him, but left us, whom He had produced, here to continue producing seed-bearing fruit after His own kind.  New Life.  Everlasting life. Fruit that will last.

God says, “Rebuild the road! Clear away the rocks and stones so my people can return from captivity.” Isaiah 57:14 NLT

Last night as I got off the phone after a conversation about preparing the way of the Lord, I heard, “It’s time to get rid of some more stones on the road.”  So, when I woke up this morning, He said, “Come take a walk with me.”  I have not walked and gone to my secret place with Him in over a week,  not since encountering an intrusive runner.  My secret place for the last month has taken the form of a stone table under a blossoming tree facing the sunrise near our home.

Last week, a male runner distracted my attention multiple times and invaded my space to the point I felt somewhat violated by his presence.  I have never carried pepper spray, but after talking with my husband, we felt for the first time in my adult life, I should carry some in my pocket.  So, I took my pepper spray and headed out the door.  I immediately felt irritated, like something gnawing beneath my skin.  I was mad, and I wanted to use strong words to express my displeasure, but I am supposed to be spending time with the Almighty, and had been pretty much dodging Him for a week.  He had said the last time, He wanted to give me compassion for the abuser, and then this skinny, sweaty runner invades my space forcing me to come out armed.  Papa nudged me, encouraging me to share how I felt with Him, so I did.

I quickly began to realize that not only had I been angry with this unknown man, but I was pretty miffed at God for revealing our secret place.  I felt exposed by God.

When I say I saw a vision, I mean I see a picture in my head, and sometimes that image almost looks like an overlay on what I’m actually seeing.  My feet continued to pad the ground toward my destination.  There in front of me I saw an image of Jesus on the ground.  I heard Him say, “Take your anger out on me then.  I can handle it.”  He lay there completely vulnerable to my angry fists balled up.   I thought of Him willingly being beaten for my sins, His precious flesh hanging like ribbons.  I couldn’t do it, and found myself crying, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Realizing this is going much deeper than what happened last week, I began to let Him go deeper in my heart.  Then He said, “Whose to blame?”  I could hear me shouting my name.  The self accusations flew again, “I was not strong enough to stop evil. Something was wrong with me. I was to blame.”  I saw an image of my mom slapping me across the face, which happened multiple times growing up.   I saw myself as worthless, helpless, internalizing shame, that I was unfixable. I was bad.   Now barely able to see thru my hot tears, and slightly embarrassed at my avalanche of emotions, I kept my face towards the ground.

Finally, I sat down at my rock table.  Jesus said, “So this little girl, this is the one you blame”, and I saw myself about age three sitting across from me at the table.  He then began to tell me how He sees this little one.  Innocent, strong, blameless, one willing to lay down her life for others, pure, brave, loved, full of love, safe, and a safe person.  I was undone.

Then He said, “So whose to blame, those who hurt you?”, and I saw a line of little children.  I decided it was best not to answer Him this time,  nor did He give me a chance. I heard Him say, “I will hold them accountable for their choices, but did they start off as abusers, or were they abused, hurt little children themselves?  Did they not believe lies told to them? You did not chose into becoming an abuser, even when you were forced to abuse, but even for those who did, I have compassion for them, for I see them as little, broken children.”

“So, who is to blame then?  The evil forces of darkness, the spiritual forces, that lie and deceive my creation, that is where the blame lies.  But I am far greater than even this.  It’s time to let these old mind sets go.  It’s a process I know.”

A process for sure.  Layer after layer.  Deeper and deeper still.  His love is unrelenting sometimes.  But I’ve learned that even if His touch causes pain in opening a wound, it’s always to bring healing.

“I want you to write the little girl sitting at the table a letter.”, He whispered in my ear as the breeze gently blew the new, baby leaves of the tree above me.  And so I did…  A letter of healing, of forgiveness, of identity.  A tear stained letter.  I left my secret place that day a little lighter, a little freer.