Recently, a woman approached me in our church lobby in a secretive manner. “Psst. I know you write under the name Charismata. I’m sure you do that to give the glory to God and not yourself.” Chuckling to myself I thought, “I wish it were for such a holy reason.”I looked this woman in the eyes, smiled, and just shook my head. “Um. Not exactly. It’s an act of obedience. God told me to write under that name, because it’s a name He gave me. It’s more about identity, than me being so holy as to do that.”

Years ago at a women’s event, the speaker challenged us to go home and ask God what His name for us was. Reluctantly, I tried the experiment and heard, “I call you Charismata.”

My initial reaction was actually fear, intimidation, distress. I actually hated the name, and I wrestled with Him over it for weeks.

“Why?” you may ask? Well, I was terrified at the thought of power, because I was very afraid that if I was powerful, then I would hurt someone.

I looked up the meaning of the word. It had everything to do with having power and influence over people. Later, I found another meaning, that said the power of grace. That made me feel somewhat better.

So, why so afraid of power? Well, quite honestly, I grew up powerless, around those who would dominate me, in attempts to control and manipulate, and I saw what “powerful” people could do. Having power meant that I could destroy myself or other people’s lives. It was safer to remain powerless; better that, than become like those around me. My life revolved around playing it safe, erecting walls of protection, not just to protect myself from others, but to protect others from what I could potentially envision myself becoming: the Dr. Jeckle/ Mr. Hide.

So, when Abba called me “Charismata”, it was loaded with rounds of love ammo aimed at all those lies deeply embedded in my heart.

When He asked me to write under that name, He was saying, “ Sweetie, it’s OK to be powerful in me, in my grace. You are my daughter, and you will use power to help people.”

Power should be used to help others, not hurt them, to lift others up, not tear them down, to give others a voice, not silence them. Empowerment is to empower others. It is to stand for the widows and children, for the survivors, for the broken hearted, those who can’t stand for themselves.

When leadership or persons in power strip you of your voice, making you feel like you should just remain silent, condemning or devaluing you, you are standing in the face of the demonic, for that is a work of the enemy. I am not saying the person is a demon, but there is an agreement with darkness.

I recently read that if we are standing on the edge of the cliff of the world, then if we stumble we may indeed fall off the cliff. But if we are standing in Jesus far away from the edge, then if we stumble, we fall into Him. In other words, you don’t just wake up one morning, and abuse your kids. It’s a series of steps towards the edge of a cliff that if you continue, will lead you over the edge. I choose to stand on and in Jesus Christ. He is my keeper.

Through the years, Charismata has become a term of endearment to me, a name that, when He calls me by, I smile.

I still deal with the lies from time to time of “What if you lose it?” or thought-flashes of becoming an abuser. But I know that’s not who I am. He loves me, and He calls me by a new name, an intimate name, a name that brings joy when I hear Him say it over me.

What’s He calling you my dear friend? It may surprise you.

“How do you hear God so well?” or some version of that, is a question I often hear people ask me.  My usual answer is something like, “Well, God and I have walked together through hell and back, so I learned out of desperation to hear His voice.”

I remember one such time with Jesus. In a type of prayer ministry I have received, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I was taken back to a horrific memory, and was desperately trying to visualize Jesus in that place with me. At first, the man I thought was Jesus, when he approached me, was vile with evil lurking in his eyes.

Quickly, I asked for the true Lord Jesus to come. He did. The precious lover of my soul walked into my hell, and bent down in front of a little, terrified girl, who was me. Holding out His scarred hands where I could see, He said, “Daughter, see my scars. This is always proof of my love for you. Always look for the scars, and that way you’ll always know it’s really me, for my love never takes from you. It always gives. It doesn’t rape you. It protects you. It always sacrifices for you. It doesn’t demand a sacrifice of you.” I remember the love that flowed from His heart to mine. I will never forget that moment.

Love is to be experienced, and that experience of receiving the truth of who He really is began to unravel a web of lies that had held me deeply captive.

So, my intimacy with God, who I now can call my Papa, my Father, developed by Him loving me back to life, by the many times He has spoken what He thinks of me over and over again, by my experiences with Him. He is love. But His love is also jealous.

In worship, recently, the Holy Spirit jolted me. I felt like He said, “My children choose masturbation over the real thing.” Well, honestly, that shocked me, but I have learned to lean into the voice and ask for understanding, rather than dismiss it.

In a marriage, obviously, the most intimate time is sexual intercourse. Many times though, lovers chose an imitation to the real thing like masturbation and/or pornography, because it’s something they can control and manipulate, satisfying the flesh without exposing their heart.
In the intimacy of the marriage bed, flesh to flesh, heart to heart, we can’t hide. Our imperfections are exposed. We are also vulnerable, which should be a beautiful thing; skin to skin.

God awakens us to His love. Jealous for our affection, for our naked heart, He will not settle for an imitation, instead of the real thing.

He is done with His bride running to everyone else for what they should be getting from Him. He is drawing His bride into His intimate love. He’s jealous for us. Nothing can substitute for the real thing.

Sometimes we want a facebook kind of love or relationship, instead of a face to face, heart to heart friendship with God. What I mean by that is we tend to only put our best foot forward. We only show people what we think they want to see. We don’t show who we really are. It’s a psuedo friendship. Could you imagine only relating to your spouse through social media? For many of us, that’s our comfort level with God.

I’ve been really talented at running and hiding, because I thought in the exposing of my heart, I would be disappointed, or expose something ugly in me that I didn’t want to face.

I’ve walked through at lot of hurt, a lot of broken promises. People disappoint all the time. In fact, I almost cringe when someone says I’ll always be there for you, or we are forever family. I know the intentions are good, but honestly, I’ve found that’s usually the point the commitment to friendship is tested and many have walked away from relationship.
I think many do the same thing with God. As long as He is able to be controlled, and we can have Him on our terms, then we are good, but if He asks us to obey Him in the hard time, well, some walk away.

I can hear Jesus asking His disciples, “Will you leave me was well?” after all the crowd left offended and only the twelve were still there.

If your love is infatuation, it’s not really love. 1 Cor. 13 talks about what real love is. Love is patient. Love is kind. It doesn’t envy. It doesn’t boast. It’s not proud or rude. It’s not self seeking. It’s not easily angered and keeps no record of wrong. It always trusts, always hopes, never gives up. It never fails.”

So, intimacy and my ability to hear Him are all tied up together in a loving relationship with Him. Because I have experienced His true love and grace, even in the worst places, it has opened my heart to want to respond to Him, to want to obey Him. It’s not based on performance, but on relationship. I love Him, because He first loved me! I hear His voice, because we are face to face, breath to breath.

Do I still struggle with fear? Yes. Do I still get tripped up with lies? Yes. But I run to Him, not away from Him, because I know that He will respond to me out of perfect love.

In perfect love, there is no fear of punishment. God is love. His love is jealous for us, for our devotion to Him. He is relentless in His loving pursuit of our hearts. And He won’t take a fake, shallow love for the real thing.

“Don’t drive hangry!” “Please forgive me for the things I said when I was hangry.” “Maybe I’m hangry or maybe everyone really is this irritating!”

H-anger is real! As proof of this statement, yesterday morning I found “H-anger” in the Bible!  No really.

I was in Isaiah…ISAIAH of all places…and found this gem: Look to God’s instructions and teachings! People who contradict his word are completely in the dark. They will go from one place to another, weary and hungry. And because they are hungry, they will rage and curse their king and their God. They will look up to heaven and down at the earth, but wherever they look, there will be trouble and anguish and dark despair. They will be thrown out into the darkness. (Isaiah 8:20-22 NLT)

See! I told you! “And because they are hungry they will rage and curse their king and their God…wherever they look, there will be trouble and anguish and dark despair.” SEE! Like many recent scientific discoveries, this one too is already a known truth in the Bible and spoken about by God. H-anger is real and the world is in a tizzy because they are starving for God’s Word!

So where da food at!?

That is where our Royal Priesthood comes in. Us, believers, the Body of Christ. We are the caterers for this party. We are the problem solvers. We are the honey that refreshes!

Check out  Malachi 2:5-7 (NLT) “The purpose of my covenant with the Levites was to bring life and peace, and that is what I gave them. This required reverence from them, and they greatly revered me and stood in awe of my name. They passed on to the people the truth of the instructions they received from me. They did not lie or cheat; they walked with me, living good and righteous lives, and they turned many from lives of sin. The words of a priest’s lips should preserve knowledge of God, and people should go to him for instruction, for the priest is the messenger of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.” (emphasis mine)

As I said, the hangry world is in a tizzy, they have “trouble, anguish and despair.” As priests, we, have “life and peace.”

The hangry world “rages and curses their King and God”;  as priests, we demonstrate reverence and awe of His name. (Aside, if you’re not sure He will take them back after this rebellion, check out Psalm 107).

The hangry are “weary and hungry.” We priests have truth, good instruction and intimate knowledge of God; sweet and soothing food with which to satisfy the hunger of the people.

They are hungry to be filled with the truth; that God sees them as beloved sons and daughters. They are starving to know that He has already taken care of the sin problem that separated them from Him and He is holding His arms out to them to receive them in an everlasting hug!

We priests are to deliver the Bread of Life to the people, the sustaining truth that He will fulfill their every need. He won’t leave them, but He will help them to grow up, stand up as mature sons and daughters who are warriors who battle from victory.

They should hear from our lips that He sees them as royal sons and daughters who are co-heirs with their brother Jesus, who are to rule and reign on the earth in the authority He has purchased for them. This is the pleasant duty set before us priests by the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.

Did you notice that last bit? Our pleasant duty of bringing the truth and the intimate knowledge of God to His people is mandated to us, not by El Shaddai, (God Almighty) nor by Immanuel, (God With Us) nor by any other name, but instead our mandate comes from the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.

Our role as priests who bring life and peace, truth and intimacy, reverence and awe of God, is a military role. We are a demonstration of the art of spiritual warfare.  Our warfare is not of this world, but powerful! (2 Cor 10:4)

Did you know all those complicated old testament duties that the priests performed were always about ridding God’s people of guilt and shame and the curses that came with sin?

As new covenant priests, we bring life and peace by assuring people that Jesus has done it all for them already and they need only turn from their own way and receive from Him.

We are privileged as priests to be with God in the intimacy of the Holy of Holies, which, by the way, is now wherever we are because His Spirit dwells within us.

From that place of intimacy we bring this abiding Presence to the hangry people and the fruit of His Spirit spills out of us satisfying their hunger with life, peace, joy, rest from their weariness, perfect love, patience, gentleness… all the nourishment that they are STARVING to receive.

You know when you are hungry, the slightest whiff of food catches your attention. Well, we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved…(2 Cor 2:15 NIV)  So just be. If you have spent time receiving from Jesus, just be and His aroma will draw them.

We are table hosts leading the hangry to the feast.  We invite them saying, “Come to the table!  Every satisfying thing your heart desires is in Him, there is peace to fulfill every appetite. The mouth-watering Bread of Life is there in abundance. It belongs to you. Nothing will be held back from you. No need to go hungry. No need to be hangry. The royal table is set before you and you are welcome. Let’s feast together.”

The kings and men of authority in this world rule oppressively over their subjects, claiming that they do it for the good of the people. They are obsessed with how others see them. But this is not your calling. You will lead by a different model. The greatest among you will live as one called to serve others without honor. The greatest honor and authority is reserved for the one who has a servant heart. The leaders who are served are the most important in your eyes, but in the kingdom, it is the servants who lead. Am I not here with you as one who serves you? Luke 22:25-27 TPT

Sleepily, I rubbed my eyes and with blurry vision glanced over at the clock. 3:00 AM again. I sighed. In my mind, I heard the faint whisper, “Luke 22:25”. Reluctantly, I fumble for my phone, tap the screen, and begin scrolling through my apps to find my Bible icon to search for the reference I’ve just heard, while trying not to wake my sleeping husband.

Born into a pastor’s home, I have grown up in church my whole life. Sometimes that’s been a positive thing, and sometimes not. Through the years, I’ve seen many leadership models, programs, and church structures come and go. Friends have questioned me again and again as to why I’ve stayed in the organized, corporate church for I’ve had every reason to walk away. In truth, I have, but “Papa” loves people. He loves His body, and He compels me to stay. I used to be afraid of being outside a local body, because I was raised in a fear-gospel that was far from being good news, but now I don’t stay out of fear. I stay, because I love Him, and I love people. It is family to me.

My paradigms about “organized church” have been shifting though. His kingdom is an upside down one. My three o’clock revelation was one such moment.

Cultural systems typically fall into a pyramid-like structure. Many people at the bottom that support the few or the one at the top. The top is commonly somehow “elite”, “set apart”, and in many cases “untouchable”. Think “Pharoah”.

People also tend to want to put leaders on pedestals. Throughout all of history, this is the model that government, business, and even most of the time, “church”, has fallen under. Many times we look to the “man of God” to solve our problems, to be our “priest” between God and us. It’s more comfortable to send someone else to go on our behalf to the mountain of God than to go ourselves, because it doesn’t require much of us. Unfortunately, this fosters a welfare mentality, even in the church.

Every structure will have some resemblance to the pyramid model. We function best in a social environments with leaders. Cultural systems through out all history have some form of leadership. Even when the system was nomadic, there would be a clan or family head. The family unit is God’s idea, with the father at the head, then the mother beside him, and the children around them. Even God’s kingdom, is just that, it is a kingdom. He is the “King of Kings”. It’s not a democracy. It’s not a republic. It’s a monarchy.

There are aspects of the Kingdom of God though, that I think we should try looking at a little differently. Perhaps flipping that pyramid upside down would help us to have a better understanding.

The Jews in Jesus’s day were under the thumb of Caesar, a self proclaimed “god”. Generations before, the Jews had sought “a King” to rule over them, instead of choosing into the God of the universe being a King and them being “royal priests unto Him”. When Messiah appeared on the scene, they were looking for a dictatorship. They wanted a King, like King David, to come and rescue them from all their enemies. When Jesus came as a servant, they just had no way of wrap their minds around that concept. A servant King made no sense to them.

On a weekend excursion, my family found ourselves peering up at the most amazing tree I’ve think I’ve ever seen, the Angel Oak, the icon of Charleston. As I pondered it’s massive trunk, and hundreds of branches that reached out mangling in all directions, pushing outward, and upward like octopus arms weaving in and out, up and down grasping for sunlight, the Holy Spirit spoke to me. “This is like a family structure.”

I pondered what I felt He was saying. The trunk of the tree is at the bottom, supporting the branches with life giving flow. It serves the rest of the tree, by supporting it with it’s deep, deep root system, sucking life from the soil and stabilizing the massive body of the tree that rises above it. It’s the lowest to the ground, the most massive part of the tree, but not more important than the rest, though it is vital to the tree’s survival. It holds up the rest of the tree, so that the tree can flourish.

Jesus came to serve, to lay down His life for His children, so that He could win us back. The leadership model He leaves us with is very different than what we would expect. According to the verse from Luke holding a title in the church doesn’t equal authority in the kingdom of God.

We are to honor those whom God places in authority, absolutely. In fact, the word tells us to honor each other, to and love each other regardless of title, especially in the family of God. Honestly, we don’t really have a good grid for honor in our culture. Honor means I put extreme value on a person or thing. I treat it as precious.

There are times though that I’ve seen more spiritual authority operating in an unnoticed mama of babies who tirelessly serves her family or a forgotten elderly man who has spent countless hours on his knees in prayer, than in some church leadership. Why?

God doesn’t look at things the same way man does. He looks at the heart of the person, the way that person served others, laying down their lives for those around them. He gives authority to those who walk in humility, honor, love, who serve well, and forgive well. Authority doesn’t always look like a title or a position.

The offices of pastor, teacher, evangelist, prophet, and apostle were meant to serve the body until we all become mature enough to step into a priestly role in unity. And their calling is to nurture and prepare all the holy believers to do their works of ministry, and as they do this they will enlarge and build up the body of Christ. These grace ministries will function until we all attain oneness into the faith, until we all experience the fullness of what it means to know the Son of God, and finally we become one into a perfect man with the full dimensions of spiritual maturity and fully developed into the abundance of Christ. Ephesians 4:12–13 TPT

Have you ever read what a true apostle looked like? These are Paul’s word describing the office of apostle:  It seems to me that God has appointed us apostle to be at the end of the line. We are like those on display at the end of the procession, as doomed gladiators soon to be killed. We have become theatrical spectacle to all creation, both to people and to angels. We are fools for Christ, but you are wise in Christ! We are frail; you are powerful. You are celebrated; we are humiliated. If you could see us now, you’d find that we are hungry and thirsty, poorly clothed, brutally treated, and with no roof over our heads. We work hard, toiling with our own hands. When people abuse and insult us, we respond with a blessing, and when severally persecuted, we endure it with patience. When we are slandered incessantly, we always answer gently, ready to reconcile. Even now, in the world’s opinion, we are nothing but filth and the lowest scum. 1 Corinthians 4: 9-13 TPT In other words, I don’t think most of us would run for the office of “apostle”, if that’s what we thought it would be like.

Even the prophet, Samuel, when examining the sons of Jesse, thought surely he’d hit the jack pot with this fine line of robust young men, but God said no to them all. They summoned the ruddy, runt of the pack, the simple shepherd boy in from the field, and God said, “Yes. That’s my man.” He also proceeded to tell Samuel that He doesn’t look at man’s outward appearance like we do, but He looks at the heart. Most of the time, the girls of the family were the shepherds in Jewish culture, so David actually worked a lowly position in the eyes of his family. Some believe he was given the job, because he was a half-brother. Whatever the reason, he was not the favored son of his father by any means. But he was God’s favorite.

So, elders in the early church, what was their function? Well, initially, they were called to distribute money, food, etc. to help the poor, the elderly, the widows and children. Jesus said that undefiled religion is this, that you care for the orphans and the widows. Their function was to care for the body.

In 1 Corinthians 12 TPT, Paul talks about the parts of the body of Christ. He says, In fact, the weaker our parts, the more vital and essential they are. The parts we think are less honorable, we treat with greater respect. And the body parts that need to be covered in public we treat with propriety and clothe them… God has mingled the body parts together, giving greater honor to the ‘lesser’ members who lacked it. There is no hierarchy here. No line between the church leadership and the congregation.

He continues to talk about the spiritual gifts and offices, but at the end says that He will now show us a more excellent way.  In 1 Corinthians 13, he talks about that way. It’s the way of love. For all our prophecy, words of knowledge, titles, spiritual giftings, and positions will amount to nothing if we don’t have love. Agape love. In fact, many will stand before the King and have done many “good works”, but the “Righteous Judge” will say, “Depart from me. I never knew you.”

Leadership is valuable and needed, but maybe our view of the body needs to shift a bit. Spiritual authority is given to those who serve others the best with the right heart. If we will be like our blessed Savior, walking in the kind of love He did, we will be great in His kingdom. That matters to me far more than any title or position. We will be like the tree planted by the streams of living water, stable, full of life and vitality with deep roots and supporting many branches, helping others receive from the life giving Son, and bearing much fruit for the kingdom!

Blessed Christmas to you and yours!

In the video below,  Heaven’s Heartbeat, Mercedes Lambey of Kabod International has summed up the gospel from the perspective of Christmas. Mercedes has graciously allowed me to share with you.

I am blessed to have entwined my heart with the mother/daughter team, Lisa Gotz & Mercedez Lambey of Kabod International. These precious women and their families have been missionaries to the nation of Belize for 14 years and see the gospel changing many lives, including their own, everyday.  Take a listen to Heaven’s Heartbeat:

In a nation deemed, “The Fatherless Nation”, Kabod is introducing many of the Father’s precious children to His loving embrace. Click to GIVE to the ministry of Kabod International; restoring a nation to the heart of their true Father.

Follow Kabod International on Instagram too.

Many blessings to you and yours in 2019!  Thank you for following http://www.WholeHeartedWomen.org!

Caked in bloody fluid, innocent flesh wiggled it’s way out of the constricting canal. Calloused, leathery fingers gently, but firmly grasped the matted, black hair and twisted the head back and forth to aid his arrival. With lungs bursting full of fluid, the newborn fearfully gasped to fill his chest with his first breath. Fear. For the first time, fear had overwhelmed the tiny form, a completely foreign feeling.

Wails of a baby’s first cry filled the square, adobe-like walls, as anxious bystanders peered over the worn mother’s limp shoulders to a get a glimpse at the newborn now being held high in his father’s burly hands. “My first born, son!” cried the father, but “the knowing” convicted his heart as he declared the words.

“He looks like his mother.” whispered an aunt to her daughter peeking through the narrow doorway that lead to the rooms upstairs, where the relatives crammed into the one guest room of the family abode. Overcrowded conditions had forced the young couple into the quarters were the animals were kept.

“How can you be sure who the father is?” jabbed a cousin from behind a pulled, tattered curtain. The new mother’s cheeks burned red. A lamb bleated for milk dripping from the nearby nipple of the ewe. The infant’s eyes blinked open at his mother’s sigh of embarrassment, but all he could see was blurry shadows. A land filled with shadows. He had known no shadows before now.

The father placed the screaming baby in the gentle arms of his mother. Blood smeared across her cheek, as she kissed his forehead. Born in blood. Skin to skin.

The warmth calmed the baby’s cries, as the father grabbed his freshly sharpened dagger tucked tightly in the worn leather belt that hung from his hip. He quickly grabbed the umbilical in his hand and sliced the life flowing connection between mother and son. Though not painful, the boy knew He was now separated from everything He had known before.

A new, gnawing sensation overcame him. Hunger. Again, a foreign feeling. Tears filled his clear, brown eyes, as he began to whimper and then nuzzle, his perfect lips sucking her skin searching for nourishment. The mother quickly pulled him to her engorged breast, as the tingling sensation of milk flowing surged. Quickly, the suckling soothed his tummy’s growl with the life–sustaining gold, as richness dripped from the corners of his mouth. Contentment spread over his tiny frame, while a sense of wonder filled his mother.

A warm, wet cloth enveloped the baby’s limbs one by one, leaving a clean coolness on his skin. Then strips of muslin were wound around and around with his arms and legs tucked up against his body, constricting and confining his movements. “How can the one who created the universe be confined in flesh?” thought the mother.

“What’s his name?” came the gruff voice of an uncle from across the room.

“Jesus. His name is Jesus.” Joseph simply stated.

The uncle shook his head in disgust. “Couldn’t even give him a family name? Maybe the rumors are true. But why didn’t he just put her away quietly?” he thought to himself.

The baby knowing the condemning thoughts, glanced in the direction of the Uncle. Sadness rose. “What is this feeling, Abba? Abba? Am I all alone now? Do you hear me?” he thought.

A still voice from within whispered, “I’m right here, my son. Yes, you will now know sadness. You will be known as a man of grief. You will feel this often.” Again, a tear appeared in the corner of his eye, while two rams with manure caked bellies butted each other in the corner.

Cradled against the smooth skin of his mother, he drew a deep breath of air mingled with the musty scent of dirt, hay, lanolin, dung, and a pot of stew brewing upstairs. His eye lids grew heavy. He blinked to stay awake, but finally he gave in to sleep. While rocking and singing a soothing Hebrew lullaby sung throughout generations, his body went limp in his mother’s embrace. His breathing slowed and deepened.

Her voice trailed off, “numi numi k’tanati, numi numi nim!”(sleep, sleep, my little one, sleep, sleep) The aunt shushed those remaining in the room sending them upstairs and off to bed.

The mother and father stared at the child resting in her arms. “How can this be?” she thought. “The Holy, I Am, asleep in my arms?” She turned her face towards her young, betrothed husband. “How can this be?”

A gentle knock came to the door. “Who could it be this late in the evening?” said Joseph. The thought of a cruel Roman soldier demanding a loaf of bread flew through his mind. Seething, his heart beat quickened and sweat beaded across his tanned forehead. He moved quickly to avert the intruders, before they woke the baby.

Reluctantly, the beaming face of a young shepherdess appeared in the darkened doorway. Light shone from her eyes as fire from within danced. Several other shepherdess crowded in behind her, pushing to see in.

“We’ve come to see the baby.” the leader of the small band breathlessly declared.

“The baby? How did you know?” Joseph stood motionless for a moment. “Well. Come in. Come in. Of course, you can see the baby.”

A tale of a host of angels appearing in the sky announcing the birth of Messiah tumbled from their trembling lips all at once. “We left our sheep in the field, and ran to where the new star showed us.”

“The new star?” questioned Joseph. He ran outside to see for himself this miracle. With his head cocked backward, a glorious light shone above the Bethlehem home streaming beams of light like a beacon down to earth.

As the young girl cautiously approached Mary, the baby stirred. “Come. Come and see Messiah.”

Jesus awoke staring into the face of a child not many years older than he. The young girl smiled, touching his cheek softly. “A baby. Messiah comes as a baby.” She turned to Mary. “The angel said, ‘Fear not. For I bring you tidings of great joy.’” She turned back to look into the gentle eyes. “Messiah.” With a hand on her heart, she stepped back for the others to see.

Great joy and compassion filled the heart of the baby, as he watched each shepherdess stare in wonder. “For these, Abba? I’ve come for these?”

“Yes, my son, for the least of these. They are ready to receive you.” came the whisper inside again.

“Abba, will all receive me as these precious ones?”

“No, my son, many will reject you. You will rejected by many in Israel. But not all.”

The door closed behind the young girls as they rushed into the night to tell others of the wonders they had just witnessed. As the story was retold to many unexpecting bystanders, the story of angels appearing to lowly shepherds many wondered what could this miracle mean.

“Joseph, we need a place for Jesus to sleep.” Mary meekly reminded her husband.

“Of course, my dove. Of course.” He quickly looked around the room to see what he could use. The only thing suitable was a feed trough for the animals. He sighed. “Why couldn’t Messiah have been born in a palace or to rich people? He is the King.” Joseph shook his head in dismay.

“I am not fit to be the father of Messiah.” This time Joseph spoke to the ceiling.

“What is this feeling, Abba?” thought Jesus.

“That is the feeling of guilt and condemnation. Our enemy’s finest weapons. Many will use that against you. One day you will bear all their guilt, my son.”

Jesus let out a small whimper at the thought. Mary checked his cloths. “Time to change him. I’ll take care of Jesus, my husband. You prepare his bed.”

The leg of the feed trough was loose, so Joseph being a good carpenter always carried a nail and hammer in his cloak pocket. Resourcefully, he pulled out his tools and hammered the nail into the wooden plank holding up the trough. Bang! His hammer missed the mark smashing his thumb.

“Ouch!” He flung his injured finger back, then thrust it in his mouth sucking on it. Silently, he whispered curses under his breath. I can not even get the manger fixed right!”

The sound of the hammer hitting the nail and thrusting through the wood alarmed Jesus. As his father cursed in pain, a sharp sensation jabbed through the baby’s own wrist. An image of the nail being thrust through his tender flesh flashed across his mind. He wailed, as his mama patted dry his behind and wrapped him tightly in clean cloths again.

“Abba, is it true? Is that what I’ve come to do?”

“Son, you’ve come to lay down your life, so that they can be free. I love them, my son, it is the only way.”

A lamb bleated, Jesus turned to look to see where the noise had come from. “Like a little, innocent lamb, Abba?”

“Like a little, innocent lamb, my son. You will become the sacrifice that takes away the sins of all mankind.”

Joseph finished his work, lay fresh hay in the trough, gently took Jesus from Mary, laid him in the manger. The baby drifted off to sleep again, as the sheep settled around him. Joseph wrapped his arms around his exhausted wife. As she leaned back into his embrace, she too found sleep, while Joseph watchfully guarded the precious treasure that was entrusted to his care. 

For He (the servant of God) grew up before Him like a tender shoot (plant), and like a root out of dry ground; He has no stately form or majestic splendor that we should look at Him, nor (handsome) appearance that would be attracted to Him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrow and pain and acquainted with grief; And like One from whom men hide their faces, He was despised, and we did not appreciate His worth or esteem Him. But (in fact) He has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows and pains; Yet we ignorantly assumed that He was stricken, Struck down by God and degraded and humiliated by Him. But He was wounded for our transgressions; He was crushed for our wickedness (our sin, our injustice, our wrongdoing); The punishment (required) for our well-being fell on Him, And by His stripes (wounds) we are healed.” Is. 53:2-5

Caked in bloody fluid, innocent flesh wiggled it’s way out of the constricting canal. Calloused, leathery fingers gently, but firmly grasped the matted, black hair and twisted the head back and forth to aid his arrival. With lungs bursting full of fluid, the newborn fearfully gasped to fill his chest with his first breath. Fear. For the first time, fear had overwhelmed the tiny form, a completely foreign feeling.

Wails of a baby’s first cry filled the square, adobe-like walls, as anxious bystanders peered over the worn mother’s limp shoulders to a get a glimpse at the newborn now being held high in his father’s burly hands. “My first born, son!” cried the father, but “the knowing” convicted his heart as he declared the words.

“He looks like his mother.” whispered an aunt to her daughter peeking through the narrow doorway that lead to the rooms upstairs, where the relatives crammed into the one guest room of the family abode. Overcrowded conditions had forced the young couple into the quarters were the animals were kept.

“How can you be sure who the father is?” jabbed a cousin from behind a pulled, tattered curtain. The new mother’s cheeks burned red. A lamb bleated for milk dripping from the nearby nipple of the ewe. The infant’s eyes blinked open at his mother’s sigh of embarrassment, but all he could see was blurry shadows. A land filled with shadows. He had known no shadows before now.

The father placed the screaming baby in the gentle arms of his mother. Blood smeared across her cheek, as she kissed his forehead. Born in blood. Skin to skin.

The warmth calmed the baby’s cries, as the father grabbed his freshly sharpened dagger tucked tightly in the worn leather belt that hung from his hip. He quickly grabbed the umbilical in his hand and sliced the life flowing connection between mother and son. Though not painful, the boy knew He was now separated from everything He had known before.

A new, gnawing sensation overcame him. Hunger. Again, a foreign feeling. Tears filled his clear, brown eyes, as he began to whimper and then nuzzle, his perfect lips sucking her skin searching for nourishment. The mother quickly pulled him to her engorged breast, as the tingling sensation of milk flowing surged. Quickly, the suckling soothed his tummy’s growl with the life–sustaining gold, as richness dripped from the corners of his mouth. Contentment spread over his tiny frame, while a sense of wonder filled his mother.

A warm, wet cloth enveloped the baby’s limbs one by one, leaving a clean coolness on his skin. Then strips of muslin were wound around and around with his arms and legs tucked up against his body, constricting and confining his movements. “How can the one who created the universe be confined in flesh?” thought the mother.

“What’s his name?” came the gruff voice of an uncle from across the room.  “Jesus. His name is Jesus.” Joseph simply stated.

The uncle shook his head in disgust. “Couldn’t even give him a family name? Maybe the rumors are true. But why didn’t he just put her away quietly?” he thought to himself.

The baby knowing the condemning thoughts, glanced in the direction of the Uncle. Sadness rose. “What is this feeling, Abba? Abba? Am I all alone now? Do you hear me?” he thought.

A still voice from within whispered, “I’m right here, my son. Yes, you will now know sadness. You will be known as a man of grief. You will feel this often.” Again, a tear appeared in the corner of his eye, while two rams with manure caked bellies butted each other in the corner.

Cradled against the smooth skin of his mother, he drew a deep breath of air mingled with the musty scent of dirt, hay, lanolin, dung, and a pot of stew brewing upstairs. His eye lids grew heavy. He blinked to stay awake, but finally he gave in to sleep. While rocking and singing a soothing Hebrew lullaby sung throughout generations, his body went limp in his mother’s embrace. His breathing slowed and deepened.

Her voice trailed off, “numi numi k’tanati, numi numi nim!” (sleep, sleep, my little one, sleep, sleep, sleep!). The aunt shushed those remaining in the room sending upstairs and off to bed.

The mother and father stared at the child resting in her arms. “How can this be?” she thought. “The Holy, Great I Am, asleep in my arms?” She turned her face towards her young, betrothed husband. “How can this be?she thought. “The Holy, Great I Am, asleep in my arms?” She turned her face towards her young, betrothed husband. “How can this be?” she whispered.

A gentle knock came to the door. “Who could it be this late in the evening?” said Joseph.  The thought of a cruel Roman soldier demanding a loaf of bread flew through his mind. Seething, his heart beat quickened and sweat beaded across his tanned forehead. He moved quickly to avert the intruders, before they woke the baby.

Reluctantly, the beaming face of a young shepherdess appeared in the darkened doorway. Light shone from her eyes as fire from within danced. Several other shepherdess crowded in behind her, pushing to see in.

“We’ve come to see the baby.” the leader of the small band breathless declared.

“The baby? How did you know/?” Joseph stood motionless for a moment. “Well. Come in. Come in. Of course, you can see the baby.”

A tale of a host of angels appearing in the sky announcing the birth of Messiah tumbled from their trembling lips all at once. “We left our sheep in the field, and ran to where the new star showed us.”

“The new star?” questioned Joseph. He ran outside to see for himself this miracle. With his head cocked backward, a glorious light shone above the Bethlehem home streaming beams of light like a beacon down to earth.

As the young girl cautiously approached Mary, the baby stirred. “Come. Come and see Messiah.”

He awoke staring into the face of a child not many years older than he. The young girl smiled, touching his cheek softly. “A baby. Messiah comes as a baby.” She turned to Mary. “The angel said, ‘Fear not. For I bring you tidings of great joy.’” She turned back to look into the gentle eyes. “Messiah.”  With a hand on her heart, she stepped back for the others to see.

Great joy and compassion filled the heart of the baby, as he watched each shepherdess stare in wonder. “For these, Abba? I’ve come for these?”

“Yes, my son, for the least of these. They are ready to receive you.” came the whisper inside again.

“Abba, will all receive me as these precious ones?”

“No, my son, many will reject you. You will rejected by many in Israel. But not all.”

The door closed behind the young girls as they rushed into the night to tell others of the wonders they had just witnessed. As the story was retold to many unexpecting bystanders, the story of angels appearing to lowly shepherds, many wondered what could this miracle mean.

“Joseph, we need a place for Jesus to sleep.” Mary meekly reminded her husband.

“Of course, my dove. Of course.” He quickly looked around the room to see what he could use. The only thing suitable was a feeding trough for the animals. He sighed. “Why couldn’t Messiah have been born in a palace or to rich people? He is the King.” Joseph shook his head in dismay.

I am not fit to be the father of Messiah.” This time Joseph spoke to the ceiling.

“What is this feeling, Abba?” thought Jesus.

That is the feeling of guilt and condemnation. Our enemy’s finest weapons. Many will use that against you. One day you will bear all their guilt, my son.”

Jesus let out a small whimper at the thought. Mary checked his cloths. “Time to change him. I’ll take care of Jesus, my husband. You prepare his bed.”

The leg of the feeding trough was loose, so Joseph being a good carpenter always carried a nail and hammer in his cloak pocket. Resourcefully, he pulled out his tools and hammered the nail into the wooden plank holding up the trough. Bang! His hammer missed the mark smashing his thumb.

“Ouch!” He flung his injured finger back, then thrust it in his mouth sucking on it. Silently, he whispered curses under his breath. “I can not even get the manger fixed right!”

The sound of the hammer hitting the nail and thrusting through the splintered wood alarmed Jesus. As his father cursed in pain, a sharp sensation jabbed through the baby’s own wrist. An image of the nail being thrust through his tender flesh flashed across his mind. He wailed, as his mama patted dry his behind and wrapped him tightly in clean cloths again.

“Abba, is it true? Is that what I’ve come to do?”

Son, you’ve come to lay down your life, so that they can be free. I love them, my son, it is the only way.”

A lamb bleated beside him.. Jesus turned to look to see where the noise had come from. “Like a little, innocent lamb, Abba?”

“Like a little, innocent lamb, my son. You will become the sacrifice that takes away the sins of all mankind.”

Joseph finished his work, lay fresh hay in the trough, gently took Jesus from Mary, and laid him in the manger.  The baby drifted off to sleep again, as the sheep settled around him. Joseph wrapped his arms around his exhausted wife.  As she leaned back into his embrace, she too found sleep, while Joseph watchfully guarded the precious treasure that was entrusted to his care.

“For He (the servant of God) grew up before Him like a tender shoot (plant), and like a root out of dry ground; He has no stately form or majestic splendor that we should look at Him, nor (handsome) appearance that would be attracted to Him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrow and pain and acquainted with grief; And like One from whom men hide their faces, He was despised, and we did not appreciate His worth or esteem Him. But (in fact) He has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows and pains; Yet we ignorantly assumed that He was stricken, Struck down by God and degraded and humiliated by Him. But He was wounded for our transgressions; He was crushed for our wickedness (our sin, our injustice, our wrongdoing); The punishment (required) for our well-being fell on Him, And by His stripes (wounds) we are healed.” Is. 53:2-5

Have you ever fallen in love and become so passionately in love with the object of your desire that you want to mingle all of you with all of them? This is the essence of sexual attraction right? When we fall in love we desire to be one with our beloved. We want to connect fingers, toes, lips and every part in between to our counterpart in such a way that the line between us and them disappears. That is the consummation of intimacy.

Recently, not for the first time I heard Bethel’s Bill Johnson talk about the often quoted phrase people use when they want to say that they need to be more Christlike and less fleshly as they work for the Lord. They paraphrase John the Baptist as they say, ‘More of you Lord and less of me.’

Bill has a funny comeback to that phrase because he feels it is a misunderstanding of how God sees us. He says he imagines God hearing us say that and saying in response, “I don’t want less of you. I had less of you before I made you and I didn’t like it.”

This morning as I heard Bill say that, I had a realization that God is in search of greater intimacy between us and Him. To say that in love making I want less of me and more of my husband would be just weird. It would leave him ultimately alone and without the object of his passion. Not to be weird, but the same is true of our intimacy with God. To say more of you and less of me removes the “me” part of the relationship of intimacy that God is after.

I think God actually wants ALL of me and ALL of Him to co-mingle. He made me and you uniquely different from one another. When I give all of me and work together with Him in unity of Spirit, the result is unique. It cannot be reproduced by His union with anyone else. If I give of my true self and give ALL that I have to the work He sets before me, THEN He is satisfied and pleased at our union. He gets to enjoy the unique “me” He created me to be.

Similarly it has become a bit of a thorn in my side to hear fellow believers say, “Use me Lord” or, “I just want the Lord to use me…” Again if I apply this phrase to my relationship with my husband, it gets kind of weird in a hurry. I don’t think the Lord wants to “use” us. In this analogy of intimacy, that would be likening us to a prostitute, not a bride. I think the Lord loves to partner with us in our work for Him and with Him. He comes along side, He goes before us and behind us. He sets us up for success, and when we obey He calls it our win!

On the contrary, when I say less of me and all of You, I am waiting on God to fulfill both parts of the relationship and consummation is not possible.

If in human covenant the Lord designed us to desire oneness with the object of our love, is it too much to think that His love for us means that He desires to have His forehead to my forehead, His nose to my nose, His fingers to my fingers, His toes to my toes?

All of me and All of You Lord!

Have you ever looked out of an airplane window and marveled at how small the people, cars and buildings are down there. In fact, it doesn’t take long to get high enough that you can’t make out the people at all, even though you are still well within the atmosphere of the earth. When I was young, on one of my first flights, I quickly took this revelation of my smallness and expanded on it to think, how small I am from the perspective of space, just outside our atmosphere, and then from the perspective of God who is far beyond the outer reaches of space.

When you get a few minutes, about 8 minutes actually, check out this video, Our God Is Indescribable by Louie Giglio. Louie takes this little revelation and makes it visual for us.

Dame Julian of Norwich was a 14th century saint whom Catholics would call a mystic, but us Charismatics would call prophetic. Simply put, she was a woman who was in constant conversation with God. During one of her many “shewings” the Lord showed her all of Creation…ALL of Creation, contained in something the size of a hazelnut. Here is a quote from her writing entitled, “All Shall Be Well,”

“And in this he showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazelnut, lying in the palm of my hand, as it seemed. And it was as round as any ball. I looked upon it with the eye of my understanding, and thought, ‘What may this be?’ And it was answered generally thus, ‘It is all that is made.’ I marveled how it might last, for I thought it might suddenly have fallen to nothing for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God.”

— Julian of Norwich

In the book she goes on to describe how God holds this little hazelnut, ALL of Creation, in His pocket and cares for it, because He loves it.

Over the years since I first read the book that came from her journals, I have marveled at the fact that God loves us. That He has relationship with us, conversation with us, that He knows the full content of our thoughts, emotions, history, future, the number of hairs on each of our heads.

Recently, as I sat in a lovely shaft of light coming in the window of our home, I saw the many little particles of dust that I could only see because the light was shining on them as they drifted by. It occurred to me that God’s relationship to us humans could be likened, quite literally, to me having an intimate, lifelong relationship to each particle of dust in my house.

If I knew the deepest thoughts, longings of heart, questions of the soul, desires, loves, wounds, pleasures, memories, dreams, favorite relationships, every relationship, every word, every thought, every breath and which would be its last, the number of days of its life on earth, every detail of the life of this speck of dust. If I cared deeply about all of that, so much so that I would lay down my own life for that speck of dust to live and be free. If I communicated in every possible way to the speck of dust and told it how I see it through my eyes of love and if I spoke life and a future to it and I did this with every speck of dust in the universe of my house and then did ALL so that each speck could live with me forever in intimate relationship, this would be a little bit like what God has done for us, each of us, the dust He formed and then breathed His life into.

In this light, consider that the God of the Universe, the Maker of all that is, the Lord of Heavens Armies, I AM, speaks to me and to you. That He cares enough to speak life to us, to prophesy our lives and tell us of the good plans He has for us so that we have hope.

Consider that this same God gives us commands, assignments, and requests. I find that first amazing, but then too, somewhat daunting. This BIG God trusts me with the other specks of dust whom He loves and cares for too. This BIG God has called out a destiny for my speck of a life and He desires to see that destiny fulfilled…AND, He gives me a CHOICE about whether or not I obey Him! That might be the most amazing thing of all!

Recently I talked with a friend who was struggling with the bigness of the words that God had spoken to her. It just seemed too much for her to believe she could work that out in her lifetime. Actually, SHE can’t. It is often the case that the word of the Lord to us brings up in our minds (and too often out of our mouths,) the negative self-talk that we see Gideon display in Judges 6. But the truth is if we are not agreeing with God and partnering with Him toward the words He has said are for us, then we are partnering with the enemy instead against our own destiny. In that moment, it is our role to help our friends see themselves through the Father’s eyes and agree with who He says they are. My friend is a mighty warrior like Gideon. Her life doesn’t currently fulfill all of what God sees, so she was struggling, but I’m pretty sure, and now so is she, that He is probably right. 😄 We are practicing together to speak the truth and hold each other accountable to our true identity in Christ.

Most of us at times care deeply for the opinion of some of the other specks of dust in our lives, and yet, we often receive a word from God and either deny it or forget it just as quickly.

Until a few years ago, I had only learned how to give a prophetic word; how to hear from God and translate it into a word of edification, encouragement, or guidance for someone else. However I had not been taught what to do with those same kinds of words when they were given to me. If we assume that they are initiated by the Holy Spirit, then they are God-generated and therefore valuable. Shouldn’t we steward these words and cherish every word to us much-loved specks from the lips of our glorious God?

What would it look like if I truly believed that the destiny and plans that God has spoken forth for my life would come to pass? What would it look like if His words to me are precious? If I know and believe that God is not a man so He doesn’t lie, nor a son of man so He doesn’t change His mind,” (Numbers 23:19) what steps would I take toward the truth of His word? How would my prayer life change? Would I be constantly inquiring of the Lord for the next step, and then the next one? Would I stop worrying about whether or not it seemed right to anyone else in my life. Would I stop worrying, and instead, in times when the dream looks like it is on its last legs, proclaim from my mouth what God has said instead?

In the vastness of God’s plan, His design of all that is, He has a dream in His heart for my life and your life, because He loves us and He loves those He will touch through us. If we’re listening, He shares His dream with me and with you. In that moment of receiving His precious words, His dream for my life, my own words fail me. But when my voice returns, the most important thing I can say is, “Yes Papa, I agree with you. I don’t know how to get there, but I trust you.”