Sealed

Choosing to attend Saturday night's Easter service, I decided to give my Dad a call. It was last minute, and I almost chickened out on asking. The invitation was met with a hearty acceptance, and the seven of us piled into the church at a quarter to six.

Hours later I would be tucking my oldest son into bed, going through our regular routine of prayer. After a kiss on the forehead, his next words would change everything . . .

"Grandpa raised his hand."

Matthew's eyes sparkled. A tiny curl rounded his mouth. His eyes held the greatest part of the day - and after sharing it with me, he waited for my reaction.

"Really, are you sure?" was my response. "Do you promise?"

It is difficult for me to put my feelings to words. His announcement pierced my heart, shattering a wall of unbelief. Crocodile tears poured out of my face as I experienced a confusing mix of emotions. Joy unspeakable carried piercing pain. I stood face to face with the reality of God's existence, and the undeniable fruit of true travail. I remembered the details leading up to this day. God's promise to my heart months before had been sealed.

The story began long before I was even born, but I won't venture to take you that far back. Let's dip into last summer, when a snapshot of God's hand was taken. The post below will explain it all. I invite you to join me for a glimpse of God's faithfulness . . .


August 25, 2007 -- Two or Three

Last night, my Dad accompanied us to the Harvest Crusade. It may sound like a simple statement, but you would appreciate the miracle if you knew our history.Growing up we never stepped foot into church. The name of Jesus was only uttered in vain, and the idea of "religion" was something that was uncomfortable and avoided. God has really done an amazing work chipping away at my Dad's resistance.

Our family has been through a lot the past five years, and I attribute my Dad's openness to the trials.I was a little bit nervous about how my Dad was going to react to everything. The worship, the raising of hands - the "in your face" message of the gospel. He seemed to be enjoying himself as the evening wore on. He stood when we stood, he clapped when we clapped. I could tell that he was quietly taking it all in.

Then the moment came. Droves of people began walking to the front, and my Dad wasn't one of them. It was an awkward moment. I tried not to look in his direction, giving him a little bit of room to make the choice. He and I exchanged some dialogue during that pocket of time. We were laughing and joking about things - which is the best way that my Dad and I communicate.

Then, he said it. The phrase that just about broke my heart. "There is no way all of those people are making a decision right now . . . I could understand if maybe two or three . . . but not all of those people."What could I say? My Dad's defenses were up and his cynicism seemed to be winning. My response was to lock eyes with the man who raised me, the man I love like nobody else - and nod. My silent reply was, "yes Dad, it is real."

From that moment on, I felt like I was back in the third grade seeing through eyes of doubt. Negativity was what I was raised in. It was my Dad's way of protecting himself, and those he cared for. We were coached never expect anything really good, because disappointment was inevitable. We were taught that we weren't qualified for the good things in life. A limited, defeating and strangling point of view. Suddenly, I became skeptical of what lie before me. For a moment, I was able to see through my Dad's eyes, and my heart broke.

We all left the amphitheater in a lighthearted and giddy mood - even my Dad. I can't help but to believe that there was something about the evening that my Dad let in. He may not have knocked people down to get to the front, but I trust that in God's perfect timing, he will get there.Generations of anger, fear and cynicism - broken in this generation. Are you a first generation Christian like I am? I'll tell you, it is really difficult breaking patterns and strongholds that have been placed in your lap. The enemy is extra furious about the turn around of one. The Bible says that it leads to the blessings of thousands.

I stand today, believing that my Dad will be the turn around, not me. When I knelt to pray for him a while back, God's Spirit confirmed that my Dad would be saved. My response was an overwhelming thankfulness - and that hasn't changed. His salvation doesn't hinge on whether or not Greg struck a chord. It doesn't matter if the music was louder than my Dad would have liked, or that he couldn't see past the two or three.God whispered to my spirit even before the first song began . . . "This is a seed planting night."

The wolves of discouragement knock at the door of this frightened little girl's heart. But she stands immovable, knowing that the Good Shepherd is on His way . . . ready to chase the doubt away for good.


Thank you to Pastor Dave, for delivering a message that was true to your own heart. Thank you Eli for the exquisite set (my Dad loved it). Thank you ushers and greeters for providing an atmosphere of love and acceptance. Thank you Mordecai, for your steadfast prayers.

I send a praise to God with every breath of my being. My relationship with my dad won't end at death! Our connection here on earth is just the beginning. His step out of darkness into the Light is the greatest miracle I have ever seen.

He is risen -- INDEED!

Resemble

Bit by bit, God is healing this heart. Strangled by years of insecurity and fear, I am beginning to recognize my own voice again -- for the first time in probably thirty years. I've learned to silence her so well, that I've forgotten what she sounds like. How wonderfully it feels to be free.

Looking back to my younger years, before I committed my life to Christ, there was nothing but darkness. I operated in a state of mass confusion, looking this place and that for fulfillment only to wind up empty-handed and broken. The moment God made His first appearance in my heart, I knew things would be different. Far better than any self-help strategy, I was finally at a place where I understood that I couldn't help myself.

The difference is like night and day. The shadows have disappeared, darkness (though continuously looming) is kept at bay. Courage breaks through blankets of paralysis, one mountain at a time. Even on the outside I look different. I look at pictures of myself from years back, and I can honestly say that I look nothing like that shell of a girl. My companionship with Christ has made me a new creation.

God has taken me to places I've never even dreamed - convincing me that yes, He wants to use me to build His Kingdom. Lil' ol' me!! I have taken the appropriate steps. More times than not I have heard and obeyed His voice, always to the demise of my flesh. But deeper still is a tangled ball of uncertainty, that is manifest through guilt, condemnation and fear. On the outside nobody would notice. The torment is within, and sadly, God's ambassador finds herself in a familiar prison, filled with shackles and lies.

I post today on this subject, not to disclose the delicate underbelly of my being, but for the glory of the One who will bring deliverance. I've come a very long way, God has healed so much! But there is more He wants to uncover, new places to find healing for. I am making my way toward freedom, one dip into God's Word after another. His TRUTH is my only hope.

And when all is said and done, I will look nothing at all like that little blond waif . . . from head to toe the girl within will look a lot like the One who ransomed her life.

I will most resemble Him.

(I recommend two links if you would like to read more about insecurity and combating the lies of the enemy. Visit "A Day in the Life" and "Dave's Wave - March 16" for other great views.)

Reverence

I've got an awful lot floating around in this melon of mine today. Household chores keep my hands busy, but my mind is somewhere else. Tucked next to a very dear friend's pillow, are my concerns and my prayers. She is in bed today - yes, on a day as beautiful as this she is confined to her bedroom. Fear and pain are her companions.

It happened so suddenly. One day she was fine and the next she wasn't. Day to day routine came to a screeching halt as dinner dishes and homework papers were replaced with the unbelievable pain of surgery - and then a diagnosis that seemed unbearable.

So many of her plans, her ideas of springtime have been dashed. No trip to Disneyland, nothing fun to speak of now. Just the cool feel of clean sheets and a good book. Contentment reigns where restlessness once lived. She spends hours in silence, looking out the window - whispering a silent plea. Please God, more time.

I speak not of the protagonist in a good novel, nor the lead actress in a daytime movie. This brave heart, this champion I speak of is one of my favorite people in the whole world - my friend Debbie. She is everything I could ever hope to be. Strong, courageous, discerning and so funny. A snapshot of surrender, a portrait of beauty.

My thoughts fade from her, and onto the One who holds her this day. His strong arms cradeling her weary heart. The sweetness of His presence quieting her fears. In prayer, I stand beside my friend echoing the same plea. Please God, more time.

This Friday before Easter is indeed - very good. A silver lining surrounds every cloud. This has always been Debbie's take on things. Today is no different. As I picked up the phone to dial her number this morning, my phone call was met with optimism not defeat. The storm that rages may be fierce, but as Debbie has said from the first twinge of pain, "Our God is bigger."

This Good Friday, remember to thank God for the simple pleasures in life. A trip to the store, preparing a meal, going for a walk. I cannot say it enough - every breath is a gift.

Jesus gave you this breath, and that one, and that one too . . . as He breathed His last. His surrender on a tree calls for a tread of reverence -- and for trust of the greatest kind.

Sunday will come.

I'm Back

Like a step back into a comfortable pair of jeans, I begin the pursuit of blogging once more. I have taken some time away - a bit by choice and a bit not. My last posts landed sometime in January I think, with the dream of beginning a devotional on the names of God. Creating this enormous project for myself pretty much brought me to a stand still. I was paralyzed beneath the smoke screen of failure. I am an all or nothing kind of girl, and not being able to pour my whole self in . . . well, I guess that meant throwing in the towel.

This blessed morning, a very dear friend of mine gave me the kick in the rear I needed to get things going again. She encouraged me to pick myself up, dust off and keep going. She gave me a different perspective, one I hadn't thought of before. Thinking of this as a ministry - yes, that makes a lot of sense. Loving God, loving people . . . all by sharing my awareness of His presence, so strong, so sweet.

The good Lord knows I have an ocean full of jewels to share, but I don't want disclose too much all at once. I'm headed for a plop on the couch with a pan full of brownies about to come out of the oven. Life is good - so very good.

Every single breath.

Aloha

I've mustered up the courage . . . and begun a new blog. You will find today's post under http://www.divinelyordinary.blogspot.com/. If you have stuck with me this long, I want to say thank you. Your readership means the world to me.

This has been one of my first publications experiences. You have been a part of such a magical season for me. May God continue to bless your journey. I hope that these humble and casual posts have cultivated an awareness of the presence of God.

At His Feet . . . just like Mary, may you always choose the better thing.

Alter

Okay, I have to admit it.  Not posting for a few days makes me feel really panicky.  I guess I am disclosing probably a little bit too much about how wacky this girl can be.  So many times my fingers have wanted to rest on the keyboard.  The feeling was very much like restless leg syndrome.  There was a tingling, agitated feeling.  My fingers just couldn't sit still, my mind went from one subject to another.  But amidst feeling like I was forgetting something . . . something important like a pair of glasses or a child . . . I forced myself to take a break.

Ah, how great it feels to slip back into motion.  The sound of my keyboard tapping, the rest of my right thumb on the space bar . . . how wonderfully my thoughts seem to flow onto the screen like rushing water.  How I love to write.  It doesn't matter what I am writing about, or who I am writing for.  Composing a paragraph, editing a document, correcting a sentence - it matters none to me!  Communicating with words is absolute bliss.  I know that I know that this is what I was made to do.

Aside from wanting to take a little break, I have been toying with the idea of altering things a bit.  Now that I have successfully created the habit of writing a bit each day, I think it is time for me to take things to the next level.  There are writing projects I have really wanted to work on - and I feel the Holy Spirit's nudge, saying that the moment is now.  Why would I want to wait another minute?  

So for the next couple of days, I will be in prayer about which direction to take.  I will be changing my blog somewhat - or possibly creating a brand new one.  Hopefully, this new project will have a different look and feel.  My plan is to begin writing on purpose, with an end in mind.  I am not really much of a talker, but when it comes to the keyboard and a couple of minutes of quiet - there is obviously a whole lot I have to say.  I look forward to seeing how God will use this new found passion of mine.

For those of you who have hung around, and have put up with my mood swings - I thank you.  It must be the author in me that gets excited with the thought of people actually reading my stuff.  I am not looking to get published necessarily, but if that ends up being a part of God's plan - I have to be honest and say that I will have no complaints.

I look forward to beginning this new year with a revolution of my own.  A new writing project or two, all to the glory of the One who is worthy of every last word.

To my readers, you are loved very much.  I send a heartfelt aloha . . . hello and good-bye.  Yes, just like my toe dipping into that blog all of those months ago - this sentiment feels just right.

Format

No format today. With Christmas literally right around the corner, I am in the throws of baking cookies and tending to some last minute wrapping.

I've got some family staying with me tonight, helping me welcome Santa and all of those reindeer. I could very easily let the complication and pain of family drama bring me down - but not this night. There is far too much to be thankful for.

I am thankful for my health and that of my family's. I am thankful that Mark and I both have great jobs, that my kids have some special surprises tucked under the tree . . . and most of all, I am thankful for Jesus - like Pastor Dave said today . . .

"He's here!"

There is a line in my favorite movie of all time called Overboard. I won't go into the details, but Goldie Hawn discovers that Kurt Russel (her real life love) has returned to rescue her. It is in this moment that she whispers, "He's here!!" Gets me every time.

I feel very much the same about the idea that Jesus is right here. My pulse quickens and my eyes twinkle. I am bouncing up and down, just waiting for His rescue.

Jesus is not only the reason for the season, He is THE REASON.