I Believe

I believe in the power of the Holy Ghost

I believe in the power of the cross

I believe in the blood of Jesus Christ,

It can save those who are utterly lost.

I believe in redemptive salvation

I believe in the working of faith

I believe in transformation

It’s truly a gift of grace.   

I believe in the overcoming

I believe in the blood of the Lamb

I believe in the resurrection

I believe in the Great I AM.

I believe He alone can save us

I believe He alone can heal

I believe He brings forgiveness

It’s His love that is true and real.

I believe in his holy power

I believe in unmerited grace

I believe in a God who loves me

And prepared a heavenly place.   

I believe in the guiding Holy Ghost 

When I’m filled with heartache and loss

I believe in the blood of Jesus

And the wonderful work of the cross.

                I believe. 

So many voices speak to our minds over multiple platforms these days. Images, words, soundbites, music. All of these enter our subconscious - infusing parts of themselves, bending our current beliefs to embrace counterculture; over time, and with vast consumption of news articles and social media, truths which were once ours will seed alternate outcomes in a life not rooted in a strong belief system.

Peter. the fiery disciple who swore he’d never deny the Lord, but later did, was passionate about his knowledge of Jesus. Said plainly, Peter understood who Jesus was in his life and in those around him because he spent time with the Word. (John 1:14) 

To Peter, Jesus was not Elias, or John the Baptist, or any other prophet as some said. He had witnessed far too much to confine Jesus to the title of ordinary human being. Jesus math skills alone would have serious VCs knocking, having witnessed his “yield of return” when He prayed over the loaves and fish! 

Add the miracle from the wedding at Cana, a few other observations of demonic deliverance, plus Peter himself walking on water at the beckoning of Christ, and you have a heart rooted in understanding His place. That was Peter.

Though his mistakes are blatantly obvious in the scripture, what is not often written about is Peter's unmistakable understanding of truth; a seed planted as he spent time in and out of towns following Jesus.  And to this end, Jesus confirmed Peter’s assumption.

Mark 16:15, 16  

Jesus speaking to Peter . . . But whom do ye say that I am? And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou are the Christ,  the Son of the living God. 

Dear friend, if you’re struggling with life issues, trying to piece it all together between sound bites from Podcasts or audio clips offering partial truths but don’t deliver solid life changing solutions, allow me to offer you real truth: Jesus.  

Jesus is the Christ. The Son of the Living God. His word will change your life.

He alone forgives, heals and saves. 

Peter knew this.

And you can too. 

Wounded Heart

A wounded heart beats 

beneath concealed bones

metered hurt pulses

                                                                                                   

Invisible pain - fresh tattoo 

Sear mark of the soul.

No regard, they who wound

Iced smugness 

Whet knives.

A wounded heart 

Softly pumping

Bleeds out metered hurt.                                                                                             

Photo cred@sherryarthur

It may be easy for a human heart to understand and even deflect an insensitive remark or rude comment from someone we hardly know. We may convince ourselves “it doesn’t bother me” because we have no relational investment in the person.  

By the same token someone close to us, perhaps a fun coworker, someone who makes life easier with silly re-tweets, Tiktok sharing, or commandeering a Starbucks run, just might say or do something off the cuff -- even hurtful, and, BAM! A spiral of emotions ices the friendship for a few days. 

Sound faintly familiar? Let's unpack why humans react when pain comes into our lives.

Psalms 55:12  . . . For it was not my enemy that reproached me, then I could have borne it.

David was familiar with taunting, acquainted with pain imposed upon him when he was in battle, perhaps even accepting it as part of life.  He endured offenses and even expected to be hurt from his enemy. But it is David's remark, “if it was my enemy – then I could have borne it," which offers a glimpse into our own hearts, when we too are hurt by close friends or family.

In modern terms, David worshipped together with a buddy, considering him a friend, yet experienced betrayal and rejection. And when it came to understanding the offence, David was surprised at how much it hurt. He wasn't prepared, perhaps hadn't considered the battle of: "What should I do when hurtful remarks come from a church buddy, or a close friend?" 

One of the biggest devices the enemy wields to destroy relationships is birthed by hurt and pain. Pain left unchecked, breeds unforgiveness and bitterness.  

My friend, this is not how God designed relationships. His best design was demonstrated when he gave up his life – his gift to you. His entire life is all about restoration and unity. David's example of friendship shows us the 'how' to move forward when we experience hurt. He identified the source of his pain and offered it unto the Lord.

To know the source of contention and division in this world, is to know the source of a wounded heart: What’s behind it, what drives the unforgiveness and bitterness? How do I eradicate it? 

The book The Bait of Satan is one of many great resources available showcasing our enemy’s devices. It uncovers many lies and tools Satan uses to sow discord. Coupled with prayer, this easy-to-read resource will help you live in harmony with your friends, church family and coworkers. 

Lastly, if you’ve been hurt, if you’re currently carrying pain in your heart over an offense, I urge you to pray. Ask God to heal the hurt, ask Him to help you to ‘see the other person' as He sees them. Pray for the person who hurt you and ask for restoration and unity in your friendship again. If you still feel you’re at an impasse, then seek counsel and discuss your feelings with a Pastor, or a mentor.   

God truly cares about your hurt and wants to help you let it go. 

                                                                                                    @theawkwardyeti

Crystal Gems

Crystal gems

surround his feet.

Sunlight ricochets prisms

translucent sparkles

d*

         a

n*

       c  

 e*

Specks of glitter

wind driven, fly

then fall

e

  v

   e

     r    so gently.

A downward cast

reveals treasure;

unspoken prayers crystalize:

fear

worry

doubt

heartache

Spiritual coal

under pressure

reveal crystal gems

ready, 

gift worthy,

to pour at His feet.

1 Samuel 1: 10, 11, 13. . . and she was in bitterness of soul and prayed unto the Lord nd wept sore . . . only her lips moved for she spake in her heart.

Prayer: private conversations shared between your heart and God. 

Some prayers are simply articulated agreements, affirmations to attest that ‘yes,’ I prayed and agree with you on that subject. 

Some prayers are recited, memorized, spoken easily as if in native language. And yet, there are prayers – gut wrenching, agonizing, tear-staining-the-dusty-floor prayers which come from the most desperate place of our being.

These prayers, like those of Hannah’s, show an intense desire of the human soul to connect with God, to hear from Him and to know he has heard our prayer. 

As she was praying, Hannah offered God ‘her coal,’ pouring her tears out as she petitioned. Her prayer wasn’t selfish: the gift she’d asked for was to be returned, i.e. given back to the Lord. 

Unknown to Hannah at that time, her ‘coal’ would ultimately become a ‘crystal gem’ in the hands of the Lord. 

Friend, you have no idea what gems the Lord is creating out of the tears you’ve shed in prayer. My hope for you is that you are encouraged today in knowing how He hears our prayers, takes our pain, and makes it beautiful. 

Wilderness

                                                                               

Distant.

So far away, your voice gives

No direction. No affirmation.

Numb.

What I feel, no emotion 

No true depth. No connection.

Silence.

All around me, voices -

You speak not. 

Waiting.

In the stillness, I wonder

To continue. No direction.

~ I am here. 

                                                      Acts 17: 24 – 27 

VS 27: That they should seek the Lord if haply they might feel after him . . 

Jonah. Elisha. David. A specific theme among these biblical characters surfaces when we exam their lives. Each had a specific task. Each completed their task. But somehow during the course of their assignment they found themselves in a ‘wilderness,’ the murky unknown, when what you see or can’t see doesn’t add up. It’s kind of like the game you played as a kid at a birthday party where you reach into a dark cloth bag and, and while your arm is still partially submerged, you feel around for an object and guess what it is. There are varying ways of how to play this game, but you get the point: guessing the outcome of something you cannot see. 

Oftentimes we want the ‘end of a thing’ before it’s even half over, before God is finished teaching us what He wants us to learn. That’s when trouble happens. No one enjoys re-taking a test after failing the first time. Among other things Jonah learned obedience, Elisha learned humility, and David learned patience. These truths didn’t come easy or quickly. 

Often our lessons aren’t easily seen (remember the cloth bag game?) Sometimes we need to ‘feel our way’ while we’re in the wilderness . . . But take heart.  The same God who formed the world, the nations, and set boundaries in place calls us to seek him – to feel after him, (and to remember) he is not far from us. 

He knows our outcome, its timing - the end of the thing. 

*Best not to rush the wilderness test. (Remember the Israelites’ 40-year lesson?)

A Look Through Time

                                                

   

The steel blade approaches, 

wooing a cadaver from 

the gray metal table.

Alphabetic artistry opens

its chest cavity. 

Filleted – exposed.

A transparency known 

only to the dead,

carefully extracted secrets

lay barren.

Memory by memory.

Tear by tear. 

Hurt by hurt

skillfully removed,

weighed and balanced.

In the shadows lie 

a reminder of what was. 

What is kept is truth: 

incision,

extraction, 

removal,

 loss.

              1 Thess 4: 13-18  . . . wherefore comfort one another with these words.

In this present life, death presents a stark reality, perhaps even a brutal finality, taking all joy and hope -and offering what remains as its final destination; a life shrouded in fear. Death’s wake may trigger insurmountable sadness and uncertainty. It’s hard for people to see anything positive, any hopeful outcome, when dreams are pinned on people, possessions, and passions of this world. 

My friend, life hand will hand you attractive, yet life sucking elements to enjoy - but they'll leave you empty, eventually decay, and one day be no more.

As Christians we are IN this world but not OF this world; our mindset is and should be - entirely different! We shouldn’t be afraid of death, stake our life’s outcome in government leaders, or policy, but in the unshakable truth of God’s word. 

 If by some chance you aren’t familiar with the Hope I’m referring to, I encourage you to reach out (to me) for further discussion and clarity so that when you come to the end of life, when you take your last breath, you're not filled with dread or fearfulness, but with the wonderful knowledge of where your journey has brought you: into the loving arms of your heavenly Father. 

The Gospel offers hope, love, and everlasting life rooted in the knowledge of Jesus Christ. 

I pray you experience this Hope and embrace the peace that only He can give.

Changes Come

                                                           Seasons of Gray

She dribbles when she walks. Sometimes you can’t see the dribbles until she walks by; the spots tell stories like Hanzel and Gretal, a trail of where she’s been. I watch her. Carefully, closely, observing her gait. I wonder what others think. Do they see the pee?

She walks like it hurts. Hips shuffle. Moving. Unequally yoked pelvis rocks side to side carrying an old body. Worn cartilage. Bone on bone. Barely able to get into the car. Scary thought. 

She dribbles when she walks. Not every day. Just some days. Sometimes every day. Sometimes she drools. I see it on her face. It drips down onto the floor. Next to the invisible pee. Strength and youth the outflow of a life that once inspired conversation. Her hair, gray. A giveaway. Extra hair protruding from small bumps. Small bumps of facial skin. Multiple tiny projectile hairs jutting out. A lost set of tweezers.

She walks by. A faint smell of urine follows. To care for her is endless. Life is seasonal. Temporary. Herein lies a truth of aging. The ebb and tide of life. Of living unselfishly, of caring, helping, hoping. Of building, restoring and being restored; these years precede the giving of our own life. We age. We fade. Our lives rest in caring, loving hands.

For all its mystery, its darkness - for the delusional misunderstandings of age, aged, and aging, a life well-loved enters ever after shrouded in acts of mercy, acts of kindness. Of support, justice and of grace. 

She dribbles when she walks. 

And sometimes I can’t see the dribbles until after she walks by. 

                 

The above essay, Seasons of Gray, was written earlier this year as a tribute to my selflessly devoted black lab mix, I affectionately named Carlie. Carlie was my fourth child, my fur baby, my constant companion since I adopted her as a young pup, a rescue pet, in 2005. After she came into my life, I had forgotten how much care it took to train, and house break a puppy, to teach it rules. It was very much like having another child! 

Gradually through time and consistency, Carlie grew to become a great deterrent around strangers as well as a wonderful running mate. She often ran with me during my training runs, up to five miles at a stretch. Running together became our ritual, something we both looked forward to every morning. However, over the years as we both aged, Carlie began having hip and joint pain and could no longer run long distances. This saddened me somewhat. Though she could still walk around the trails with me, it was not the same. At least not for me. I knew her body was breaking down.

One day while caring for her dry cracked paw pads I considered her age. Carlie was thirteen-years-old in human years. Rumors tell me she’s old, but I lived in self-denial, with a can of Lysol at my side, and score of clean shop towels nearby. 

Caring for an aging dog, in my simple opinion, is much like caring for an aged parent. The cloudy film in Carlie’s eyes when she looks at me, willing a treat from my hand, reminds me of the way an aged parent looks at their child-willing conversation. While my own children have living parents and grand parents, I do not have that honor; they passed while I was young.       

Still, as difficult as it was to watch her  body break down, to clean up dribbles of urine which leaked unknowingly from her, to carry her to the vet when her legs gave out, and soothe her during thunderous rainstorms, I considered it an honor to care for my aging dog, who once trained alongside me-chasing squirrels every chance she got.

                                                ~*~

In a Unique Way

          Hey Mom, do you have a tea cup I could use? Ashley needs one as part of an object lesson in  her message today?

 The text message blinked across my Fitbit as I prepared to leave for the Florida District Ladies Conference.

          Ummm, let me check...
         How's this?
A picture of a teapot with detachable teacup emerges on her phone.

      Perfect. Thanks!

         The texted question came from my daughter Hannah as she assisted her friend Ashley, who soon would be addressing a young female audience. What will her topic be?  Quickly wrapping the cup to avoid damage, I headed out the door to my car and arrived in enough time to check for lint, and smooth out wrinkles. I handed over the cup to an assistant  and took a seat near the back.

   
         Waiting for the service to begin, I thought about the tea cup, it had been in our family for a number of years. It actually was a gift to Hannah, but when she moved to Chicago a few years earlier, it was left behind. Placed on a shelf, the teacup stayed in her old room for a while, unused. I sometimes dusted around  it thinking about how lovely it was. Still, it just sat there.

         After the conference was over the teacup was returned to me in a small bag. Once home, I placed it back on the mantle where it'd been for some time. As I thought about the teacup, God began speaking to my heart.

         Unlike other teacups which held various kinds of teas,  this teacup was going to used in a unique way. The Spirit of God spoke to me and said, "The teacup sat for months, even years, seemingly unnoticed but I never forgot about it. I placed it carefully aside, for a season, to use it for this purpose." 

I stood motionless as the weighted words rested in my soul. God's timeline is careful, purposeful and uniquely tailored to our gifts and talent. Even the timing of a tea cup.

        Then I began to think of biblical stories where common items were used in a different manner. Moses' rod is one of those.  I reread Exodus chapter four with a fresh perspective and observed  the most interesting thing about Moses' rod: it carried with it an unmistakeable anointing! When Moses doubted his calling, God asked him,

          "What is in thine hand?" He replied,

          "A rod."

His answer was simple; Moses carried a useful common tool. God took the simple functionality of his staff and wrapped an anointing around it to use if for a greater purpose. Greater than fielding sheep, or leading people, Moses' rod gave freedom to people who would have otherwise remained slaves. Exodus 14:16. What a neat example of a simple tool being used in a unique way!

          As I continued through the rest of my afternoon, I couldn't help but think about the speaker, the message, and the teacup. Ashley reminded us to guard ourselves against the convenience and ease of just going with the flow. Red Soho cups are disposable, but fine china is meant to have lasting value.

Tea cups are meant to hold warm and flavorful teas. But today, the tea cup held the hearts and attention of young ladies desiring to be changed by God.

Who would've ever thought that an ordinary teacup would be called to serve in such a unique way?