building a library of GOD speak

Compiling a Library of Precious Thoughts

the first in a series

John's last proclamation, in his biblical gospel account, informs us,

"Jesus did many other things as well.  If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written."

I love and hate this at the same time.

Imagine if there were just ONE library somewhere on the earth, a huge, sprawling place - which contained - maybe not exhaustive - but volumes upon volumes, by the thousands, of biographical writings about JESUS' childhood, young adulthood, spiritual instructions, "extra-biblical"  teachings, left-out miracles (John 20:30) and conversations with HIS Father.  Wouldn't we flock to it, read our hearts out?  And what if there were one room, even a small cubicle, filled with many manuscripts of musings about YOU - GOD's thought about your life, HIS plans for you, affirmations, game-plans, explanations and answers to your toughest questions and other personal "love letters" to your heart?   How much time might we spend at such a library?

One of my favorite Psalms, 139, speaks my sentiments in verse 17:

"How precious to me are your thoughts, O GOD!  and then a mind-boggling addition,
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand..."

When was last time you scooped up a handful of sand and let the grains sift through your fingers?   That's a plethora of perceptions!!!

One of the first times I remember hearing The LORD's "voice." began with a Sunday morning in my early years of marriage.  I hadn't yet any children, (so it truly feels like a million years ago) and my then associate pastor husband took the car to Church early, letting me sleep in a bit and ride my bike.  So I woke alone, with a deep hunger in my heart, a longing to be with Jesus. I longed to hear Him whisper He loved ME, to feel the reassurance that this screw-up I identified with myself was lovable.  I stared out at the grey of predawn and composed a song .   This wasn't completely unusual, as out of the depth of my soul, I sometimes sing to Jesus - making up melody and lyrics to my heartfelt prayers.  I sang "....if only I could hear You say, "I love you; well done.""  Though I remember the song was much longer, this was the essence of my cry that morning.

Later that morning, as I worshiped at a Lakeshore Vineyard Church, in Holland Michigan, I raised my voice with the rest of the congregation, and lauded my LORD with hands uplifted.  After a 25 minute set of praise songs, Pastor Paul invited us to turn and "greet those around us."  Turning to a group kitty-corner and behind me, I met the elderly mother of one of our members, who was visiting that morning.  I don't remember the member, nor the name of her mother, but what she spoke to me will be indelibly fixed in my mind as long as I live on this earth.  This precious babushka-like woman relayed that while watching me worship, GOD spoke to her.  He intimated, about me, "I am so please with her."  She took the liberty, (I didn't mind, I was weeping,) to quote to me, as if Yahweh Himself were speaking to me, ""I am so pleased with you, my daughter.""  

In the book of 1 Timothy, the Apostle Paul refers to the "prophecies once made about (Timothy),"  and exhorts him that "by recalling them, (Timothy) may fight the battle well, holding onto the faith..."  This principle is one I subscribe to, and encourage others to do as well.  I remember what The LORD has said about me, and it does help me to live my life, which often feels very much like warfare with one skirmish overlapping another, with more confidence, zeal, love land humility.

Thanks for reading an account dear to my heart.  I hope you enjoyed it.

A Collection of  Treasures

....a hopefully not too-long-winded introduction

It's comforting to carry a history of a "love language" with GOD, The Lord of Hosts, to feel truly known.  To have adored Him, walked with Him, sat at His feet for an accumulating number of years.....to have listened to His voice, known His laughter, shared His tears, read His Word, received His visions and soaked in His illustrative prophetic metaphors, are all encouraging experiences I share with my Holy Savior.  We have a history together, much like a sister who I grew up with, and now am playing "Taboo" with, and we are on the same wave-length, calling to mind random connections from past adventures and childhood memories, of which others would have no knowledge.  I can't exactly, or even remotely, read His mind (unless He wants me to ) but Jesus certainly knows me to the very depth of my existence.

My college daughter interviewed me for a Psychology paper she was writing on the experience of faith.  One of her questions asked me to give the reasons I believe God's existence is verifiable.  After expounding somewhat clumsily on the trustworthiness and historicity of my favorite non-fiction novel, The Bible, and pointing out the vast expanse and beauty of our meticulously ordered universe, I quoted an age-old adage.  "A man with an experience is never at the mercy of a man with an argument."  

I've experienced God's reciprocal friendship 1st hand.  I've seen Him in the stunning beauty of His creation, in the miracle of His healing, in the instantaneous effective change He's brought to my mindset or perspective, in the demonstration of His love in answering prayers, and in His patience in training me to hear HIS voice.  I told my daughter that I could more easily be convinced my big toe was actually made of rubber than I could be persuaded into believing God is merely some embellishment of my imagination.  The culmination and sum of a million "coincidences" equals the existence of GOD.

The language with which Yahweh speaks to us is personal, built upon our communication throughout the years, as with any friend - l guess.  For me, my brokeness, and the way I've responded to it, and process through it, are the very origins and motivators for these "communications."  When we are in our darkest trenches and most sorrowful valleys, we cry out - and HE answers.  Not that I live in the "valley of the shadow of death.." or anything, but I tend to be one who intensely feels the deficits of dwelling in the "lower regions" (ie: earth, as apposed to my eternal home.)  I am the broken pot calling out to the Potter, "...please!,... throw me again, this leaky thing's not holding water, and the sharp edges are cutting me left and right."  

Think of hurting times when you've called to Yahweh.  What did you cry out?  How did GOD respond?  What did HE say?  What did HE do?  When you recall it, write it down, draw a picture of it, build a rock sculpture commemorating it, or write a little poem, or song expounding on it.  This is what Jacob/Israel, Miriam and David - from the Bible, would do.  Remember and treasure the words GOD intimates to you.  They're a big deal!  Chances are He'll be repeating them, and building on them. 

If you cried out, and He didn't respond in any way, ask yourself these questions:  Was I asking Him a specific question, or just whining?  Did I expect Him to answer?  Did I wait for a response, give it time? Did I continue to look, listen, even smell - attentively? Yahweh loves using all the wonderfully acute senses He's given us, and His all-encompassing, and even comical, creativity to communicate with us.  If you can commiserate with me in bemoaning the deficits of living in the the "low-lands," then cry out again, in voice, or writing - an WAIT on THE LORD for a response.

Deserving a paragraph all of it's own is this bit of vital advice:  READ GOD's WORD  -  Yep, .. THE BIBLE ...  READ IT!  Though often Yahweh will direct you to specific sections of His illustrious book, or highlight particularly pertinent passages, reading The Bible diligently and daily, is a discipline that gives life and dispels lies.  God's written WORD is one of the most mysterious enigmas in existence.  Though seemingly only a book of printed ink on paper, when read aloud, the WORD of GOD is actually ALIVE, not as in "organic," but "alive" as in powerful to effect change.  When spoken out into the atmosphere, the WORD of GOD can affect change in the very cells of our body and authorize transformation to the furthest corners of the earth.  Activating and guiding our faith-seeking, God attending life, The Bible stands as our essential starting point to developing a "love language" history with The LORD.

I've compiled a long list of treasured "words" Jesus has spoken to me, and each one has a story.  My hope and plan is to take these, one at a time, and relay the brief personal truths Yahweh revealed to me, as I cried out.  My prayer is that these narratives, while helping me to remember and record my Savior's messages to me - even our shared "love language," will encourage and inspire you to call out to Jesus often, become more attentively aware of His answers, and begin a treasured communication collection of your own.   

beauty shines through brokeness

I break things.  If it isn't a cup my kids have created for me at "Playing Picasso," or a precious teapot presented to me by my Russian friends, it's a matching plate from my dwindling set of dishes - diminishing because I've broken so many.  I can almost count on anything, from my kitchen, that  I cherish, to eventually end up in my  broken pottery bin.  Here, in a plastic rubber-maid container shards of china, pottery and ceramic await some creative inspiration while they remind me of my clumsiness.

After praying for weeks about a talk I was asked to give on true beauty, God spoke to me late one night.  I'd been confessing to a friend that I just wasn't feeling very beautiful and hadn't for some time.  My Momma always told me "pretty is as pretty does..,"  But my inside pretty was looking, to me, just as bland as my outside ugly - even worse.   GOD whispered, on my way home that night, "beauty comes from brokenness."

Brokenness - now that was something I could address... something I knew about.  A memory immediately came to mind.  Years ago a friend described a vision the LORD gave her about the brokeness, from abuse and disappointment, in her life; HE showed her a marred  vase, pocked with holes and deep, angled cracks. It didn't look like much.  She hated the ugly thing. Then GOD placed a light inside of it, and out through the abrasions shown and danced patterns of beauty and splendor.  The LORD spoke to my friend  that SHE was the pot, and told her its the brokenness of the vessel that makes the light so beautiful as it shines through.

With the memory, came inspiration.  I envisioned a self portrait in 3D, a mosaic of sorts, pieced together from the remains of  all my chipped and shattered plates, cups  and teapots.  I felt that an art project, in preparation for my talk, would serve me therapeutically giving me a chance to process the brokeness which has characterized the last several years of my life.  Down to the basement, to retrieve my broken shard bin, I descended.   My metaphor began.

As I looked at the piles of pieces which lay before me, my heart ached.  I reminisced about each lovely possession, its  usefulness and beauty which had, at one time, graced my kitchen, now ruined. I felt like those pieces, useless and broken - but NOT discarded!  Why did I save this stuff?!!?  Because.... I guessed, it was still precious to me.  I wondered if GOD feels this way about us when HE looks at the broken pieces of our lives.  Then I decided to arrange the shards by color and design; I began to get excited, seeing the potential for some interesting masterpiece.  I no longer was looking at the pieces with the memory of their earlier form, but with eyes for their future possibilities.  A new picture began to take shape in my mind as I stepped out of the role of "created-but-busted" and into the role of "creator."

A man, new to our at church, with whom I was only slightly acquainted, approached me after worship one morning and hesitantly told me he felt the LORD had given him a word and picture for me.  The word was The Phoenix and the picture was of the mythological bird; I was to look it up on the web and find out more about it's story.  What this young man couldn't have known was that I was supposed to be traveling with my husband, to a pastors' conference in Phoenix, Arizona, in a only a few short weeks!  But stress and brokenness lay so heavily upon me that I was considering giving  my ticket away to a pastor friend of Kevin's, and not even going.  Depression had sapped my desire for the trip. I had been asking the LORD if HE wanted me there or not.  This is what the Wikipedia enlightened me about the Phoenix:  When this colorful bird, of gold, purple, red and green plumage, reaches the end of its life, it builds a nest and sets the nest and itself on fire.  Both burn together and are reduced to ashes.  Then up from the decimation rises the new young Phoenix, reborn out of the ashes.  I share this story because it is a picture of beauty from brokenness.

GOD was speaking to me then, about a year ago, what he was reminding me as I began affixing fragments together, assembling a mosaic from the rubble.  HE is in the business of bringing new life out of ashes and beauty from brokenness.  HE remembers that we're dust (like ashes in the first place) and isn''t shocked at how we manage to chip, crack and shatter what is precious to HIM - our lives.  I love the kind words of GOD's understanding in Psalm 103:13,14
The LORD has compassion on those who fear (honor)  HIM;
for HE knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust...

We are fragile, but HE who created us in the first place gets more excited about the mosaic than the original.  It is more colorful, it ends up stronger, but most of all, it has cracks, through which HIS light dances and shines with brilliant patterns of beauty.  2Corinthians speaks of this LIGHT GOD fills us with, as we come to trust in HIM:
"For GOD who said, "Let  light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in he face of Christ.... But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from GOD, and not from us."

He goes on to talk about the conditions in which we find ourselves - no wonder we break:

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed, perplexed, but not in despair, persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down but not destroyed (we might add:  shattered but not discarded.) - and the clincher: "We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body......LIFE ...at work in YOU!"

What does this mean:  "We carry around Jesus Death..."  I think this is the fragility of our emotions, our flesh, our life in these weak bodies - our jars of clay.  Jesus is our example of producing beauty through brokenness.  HE is GOD, who stepped down to earth, to dust and ashes, to show us how to carry HIS light in Jars Of Clay - and broken pottery.

As a baby..... HE was helpless,   HE grew to be a man.....rejected by his own people;  then HIS body  was broken - even shattered on a cross.  The Bible speaks of JESUS in the book of Isaiah chapter 53:

HE had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his physical appearance that we should desire him.  HE was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, familiar with suffering, like one from whom men hide their faces....But speaking of the cross, and HIS death, Isaiah writes:  He was pierced for our transgressions (our wickedness, mistakes, for everywhere we come of short of perfection)  HE was crushed for our iniquities;  the punishment that brought us peace, was upon HIM and by HIS wounds, we are healed."

When constructing my purple beauty, some of the broken pieces didn't fit - I had to take my hammer and re-break them, chiseling off rough edges.  It was difficult with the ceramic; the shards were strong and sharp.  I think WE are like this before GOD, already wrecked, but unwilling to be shaped, for fear of being further hurt or marred.

Our tendency, in these "Jars of Clay" is to go about life UNBROKEN - or pretending to be unbroken.  We can  become as solid as the hardest substance found - unbending, self centered, self ambitious and self protecting...our world tells us hold it together and look good on the outside.  Our honest brokenness repels us.  We don't want to look at it.  But our brokenness is beautiful to GOD, who died for us; it draws HIM to hearts, evokes HIS compassion and LOVE.  He longs to reshape the pieces into a well crafted masterpiece through which HIS beautiful light can dance and sparkle.

noticing small miracles...

"Life is a series of small unnoticed miracles which happen with great frequency"  Kevin quoted this in yesterday's sermon.  Yup, I think that just about sums up a study on the definition of modern day miracles.  Why don't most people see or know this.  Because we have a noticing and acknowledging problem.

Following our service yesterday, as we began to look back over the last couple hours of Church, and put the pieces together, we saw that GOD, once again demonstrated HIS gracious, and YES - miraculous -  ORCHESTRATION  that morning.

Kevin spoke on "The Gift of Miracles," the next in line  from the 1 Co. 12 list, which he's been systematically working through since January.  He cited over a dozen different verses from the Gospels, Acts and the Epistles, where people (Jesus, the apostles and ordinary  people without honorary titles) performed "miracles," which served to authenticate their gospel message.   MOST of the "miracles" remain a mystery, as to what they consisted of specifically.  But whatever, these "preachers" were doing, caused whole villages and crowds of people to BELIEVE in the message regarding JESUS as the Christ, and follow the performer of these "signs" and "wonders" around, with a spirit of awe.

Back to our morning service..... day before, actually.  Saturday, Pastor Kevin called Shane, who was to teach the morning's "Hearing God" - 1st-5th grade class, to make sure he knew that "Miracles" was the gift of the day.  And after their short conversation, both men got to work on their lessons.   Without any mention of Heidi Baker's ministry in Zimbabwe, or raising the dead, etc.., both Shane and Kevin were led, that evening, to the same youtube video of a testimony from 2008 - about a young man named Francis who was revived and completely and instantly healed an hour after being beaten to death by four attackers in South Africa.  Both Kevin and Shane showed this clip as a part of their teaching Sunday morning, Shane, cutting also to the end of the interview with Heidi Baker.  Shane considered this end  section of the story particularly significant for the children to hear, because Heidi, who runs an orphanage with her husband, speaks about the little children she lives with as her PRAYER MINISTRY TEAM.  She has THEM pray for miracles because they have not yet been tainted by teaching that GOD can't or won't move in miraculous ways.  Their faith is pure and strong; they see many miracles - even the dead raised!!

So, simutaneously, on Sunday morning, the children downstairs and the adults upstairs heard a  teaching on miracles, watched the same video - the children hearing also the end bit  about kids praying. Furthermore, it is our custom to bring the children upstairs to the ministry center at 11:45, so they can experience and participate in ministry time.   Yesterday, right before the children joined us, Pastor Kevin followed his sermon with an invitation to wait quietly for Holy Spirit's leading.  After this time Matt spoke up from the back of the room.  "I believe GOD wants us to invite all the children up front to pray for miracles, for they have the faith for this."  Matt, also wasn't privy to the children just hearing this part of the video, and in they marched, right on cue.  Kevin called them up front, about 10 of them that day, (mostly 8-10 year- olds,) and matched them with those who came forward asking for miracles.

Reports are still out on many "requests" of the morning - but as of Sunday night:  one of our leaders shared about his instant relief from leg pain and tightness, for which he's been receiving physical therapy, as two youths laid praying hands on him.  AND another man from our congregation walked away relived of back pain after a 10 year old boy prayed for him. :)

I'll add any reports in the comment section, as I receive them and I am hoping for healings and other miracles and lasting fruit.  But I also will take note of  the wide response and expectation to ministry time, which shows a growing FAITH among our body.  This, I will also count as great gain in the kingdom, as we all need to keep our antennae up and become "noticers" and "acknowledgers" of  the moves of GOD on our behalf, AND the way HE speaks frequently to us.

Jesus weeps

Sophie, her little cookie baking guest, (I'll call her Lucy,) and I, all looked up in surprise as lightning flashed through the kitchen yesterday afternoon. We had about 15 seconds to wonder "what was that," when the confirming crash of thunder pealed in the distance. It was raining cats and dogs.

Lucy was playing at our house while her parents visited the OB/GYN with hopeful expectations of hearing a new tiny heartbeat, and beginning the amazing family journey of bringing forth new life. Those hopes were dashed. As the first batch of chocolate chip cookies were placed in the oven, Lucy's parents returned, and with a shake of her head, Mom relayed the painful news.

Rain poured down.

People often talk about the weather when they don't know what to say, and after, "I'm so sorry," this was me,.... silent. But it did feel like the dreary darkened day spoke significance, so I ventured, aloud, a comparison of the mood with the weather. Right away Lucy's dad agreed, "Whenever something terrible happens in our lives, it always rains." "People don't believe us," he added, "but it's true. So when we walked out the the office to this downpour, we weren't surprised."

This reminded me of an experience I had a while back; I shared with my friends.

Sitting in my car, in a coffee shop parking lot, in the dark of predawn, waiting for the rain to die down, I cried to the GOD who loves me. Struggling with depression, I spoke out my sorrow, through tears. "I haven't heard YOUR voice in so long, and YOU know how important that is to me." I implored, "How can I keep going on if we don't communicate. I feel so alone."

At that moment, above the white noise of pounding rain, though soft and quiet and as gentle as it was clear, I heard GOD speak. "I'm here with you now, we are sitting here in your car, having a good cry." I watched the streams of water flow down my windshield like HIS tears washing all around me. HE knows, I thought. HE knows me to the depths. GOD weeps for me, for us.

"That's powerful," replied my grieving friends. I hoped it helped.

As Jesus hung on the cross, it didn't seem trivial for the gospel writers to describe how the sky turned black; surely the weather on that day reflected GOD's mood. And one of my favorite depictions of GOD, "angry" at HIS enemies (and, consequently, OUR enemies) comes from Psalm 18:

The earth trembled and quaked,

and the foundation tofhe mountains shook;

they trembled because HE was angry.

smoke rose from HIS nostrils;

consuming fire came from his mouth,

burning coals blazed out of it.

HE parted the heavens and came down;

dark clouds were under his feet.

HE mounted the cherubim and flew;

HE soared on the wings of the wind.

HE made darkness his covering, his canopy around him-

the dark rain clouds of the sky.

Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced,

the LORD thundered from heaven;

with hailstones and bolts of lightning.

The voice of the MOST HIGH resounded.

HE shot HIS arrows and scattered the enemies,

great bolts of lightning, and routed them.....

He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

HE drew me out of deep waters.

HE rescued me from my powerful enemy,

from my foes, who were too strong for me.

They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

but the LORD was my support.

HE brought me out into a spacious place;

HE rescued me because HE delighted in me..."

I believe in, and LOVE with all my heart, a GOD who doesn't always get HIS way on this earth, nor in what HE created - but IS IN CONTROL. A GOD who steps down and routs the enemies of our soul, while showing HIS terribly awesome power in the heavens, empathizing with the storm HE SEES in our hearts.

I believe HE shows us HIS compassion in this way. "Subjective and coincidental" one may say, about claiming to hear the LORD speak through thunder clouds and rain. When it comes to hearing GOD's voice, believing is seeing. Sometimes a person has to step through C.S. Lewis' spiritual "wardrobe" to experience "Narnia," where the creatures, the trees and even the wind do Aslan's bidding. Next time you wake in the night to driving rain and claps of thunder, take a moment to consider that JESUS weeps.

Metaphor from a "Monster Bike"

Mid-March in the high 70s inspired the first bike ride of the season; Kevin and Kyria set out on a 10 mile, with Mom, Annika and Sophie pedaling along for moral support. I usually try to pull up the rear, keeping a gage on how all are doing, but for 3 miles, Annika couldn't seem to stay ahead of me and I just couldn't idle slow enough. At the speed of the runners, the pace wasn't challenging, so I wondered at the pained look on poor Anni's face. Surely this kid was in better shape than her mom, yet she just couldn't keep up. At the City Market, our first water stop, I convinced her sister, Sophie, to switch bikes with her, suspicious that her mount was the problem. Annika needed a break.

1/2 a mile later, with Annika happily zipping along, but Sophie lagging sorely behind, a contorted frown swept across her face, I offered to ride the "monster." I imagined some difficulty, since the bike is a bit on the small side for my frame, but I was in for an unexpected amount of excruciating exercise! The next mile felt like pumping my pedals through murky mud up to my knees.

I tried different gears; even on the down-hills, the monster bike wouldn't even coast; it just slowed to a stop. As I sweated and strained, resolving to just hang out with the rhinos at the Zoo till Kev could pick me up with the car, I noticed the front wheel. I'd been working so hard, standing up most of the way, I hadn't noticed the rubber breaks pinching tight against the front tire, rendering regular resistance and a real pain in my posterior.

At the Zoo, Dad made a quick adjustment to the bothersome breaks, releasing the friction. A game of musical bikes, then, returned us all to our appropriate mounts. We were off. Everyone happily rolling along. Oh the difference properly working equipment makes.

During my one mile workout against the breaks, and for the remainder of the pleasant ride after Kevin released them, I reflected on how this experience parallels and illustrates the effects of spiritual oppression in day to day life. What should be fun and easy, the "coasting" aspects of life happenings, like family movie nights or vacation get aways, are endured with a plastic smiles, a manufactured laughs but an invisible ache inside.

The flat stretches of road, which should require little effort and offer pleasant views along the way, ie: going through the day to day necessities of keeping house, preparing meals, sending birthday cards, becomes, instead, a grueling exercise. Focus and concentration are needed to simply put one foot in front of the other, trying to not look any farther ahead than the task immediately at hand, for fear of breaking down. You pray and hope yourself to the end of the day, when you can tell yourself "I've survived! - 16 hours closer to heaven." - THIS depicts the flatlands.

And the most discouraging part of the analogy are the uphill inclines! When one of your children pitches a fit, when a relational challenge with a friend stares you in the face, when a scheduling mistake leaves you scrambling to present an apology as well as a solution, then, you are suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed. Immobile with indecision and a feeling of defeat, even before you begin, the gentle incline or bump in the road looms before you as if it were a 14,000 footer breathing down your neck, declaring "you'll never make it; don't even try."

The monster bike metaphor, fortunately, DOES end with HOPE! Spiritual oppression, like dragging breaks, can be alleviated through prayers of deliverance and inner healing. I've experienced this first hand on many occasions. I've, in an instant, felt suffocating heaviness lift from my shoulders and heart. I've seen a brightening in my vision I can only liken to what I might experience if I had been wearing dark green eyeglasses, tinted with pessimism, for months, and then, on a beautiful spring morning someone took them off. Situations and people all looked new and different, less threatening. Best of all, the fruit of these freeing prayers have remained - tangible, teachable and life-changing.

You may, like me, ask WHY am I - a JESUS-loving, trying-to-live-a-godly-life kinda gal like myself even susceptible to Spiritual Oppression in the first place?? You may have noticed I mentioned experiencing deliverance and inner healing on MANY occasions. Well.... sigh... I guess the humble answer is: I'm flesh, made of dust.

"The LORD works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed.,"

Psalm 103:6 assures us, "As a father has compassion on his children,

so the LORD has compassion on those who fear HIM.

for HE knows how we are formed, HE remembers that we are dust...."

A friend, with whom I shared my monster bike metaphor, reminded me that this process of repeatedly releasing the "breaks," of oppression, characterizes the life with JESUS. Oppressive thoughts and attitudes, deceptive defenses which don't really defend, and the residue of hurtful experiences and sinful reactions, from our conception to present, ALL work against us - towards bondage. Our enemy, the devil, also finds plenty of fodder for foiling a victorious life with GOD in all this baggage we drag along our bike path.

I highly recommend a full, out-loud reading of Psalm 103, for anyone who's been stirred by this metaphor and subject. Also, Psalm 129 offers hope.

"They have greatly oppressed me from my youth,

but they have NOT gained victory over me.....

the LORD is righteous; HE has cut me free from the cords of the wicked...."

May the blessing of the LORD be on you, readers and may your wheels roll happily along!

The Eccentricities of HIS voice

On a "spring ahead - lose-an-hour-Sunday morning," I wanted to crock-pot a roast with veggies for after church guests, leave the house in decent order, arrive early enough to package the benevolence bread (6 garbage bags full) and appear in the prayer room for pre-service prayer by 9 a.m. Thankfully, along life's way, I have birthed a small army (four great kids) to help me in all my endeavors. In the prayer room, when Kent asked me if I had any "prayer leadings" or "senses" that morning, I was embarrassed to say, I hadn't yet prayed much at all. But as 7 of us gathered for that hour btw. 9 and 10a.m., GOD came, with the awesome peace and electricity of HIS presence, and spoke in an eccentric language of connections, which we are beginning to understand.

In his teaching on The Gift of Prophecy last week, Nathaniel explained how GOD speaks to each one of us in a language especially personally and understandable. Knowing how we individually operate, what we think about and dwell on, HOLY SPIRIT (I use these three, GOD, JESUS and HS, interchangebly, understanding them as one and the same) - can interject thoughts into our mind right before we read a highway billboard, give someone else a significant picture from our childhood to share with us, just as HE is reminding us about a truth that corresponds to the image, cause a car to hover in front of ours until we notice the "PS37 18" licence plate in front of us, commit to looking it up to find the Biblical verse directly answering the cry of our heart just minutes before. All three of these examples have actually happened to me over the years, strengthening my non-belief in coincidence.

Sunday morning, again, left me smiling with gratitude that we are not left alone in prayer, to praise and petition a silent or distant God who refuses to reciprocate our communication. In reality, HE initiates - GOD put thoughts in our minds and hearts as we began to listen that morning. After waiting in silence, several people asked GOD to give us eyes to see the needs of HIS children and to see what HE was doing in their hearts. During the waiting, I had seen a picture, in my mind, of two eyes on the same face, but looking in opposite directions - out to either side. Then, in my mind's image, hands came and turned the eyes back to front facing, training them straight ahead. This repeated again and again. Then I saw those black patches by the eyes, the kind they put on horses so they don't get spooked by bicycles and such. As I saw this vision during the silent listening time, I felt GOD was wanting me to ask HIM to focus and train our eyes away from ourselves and our circumstances, and look to HIM only - HIS Glory, HIS Presence, HIS Peace.

So, as others began to pray for EYES to see, I rejoiced to join them, and felt that in this theme, GOD was leading. One man, arriving late, spoke up in prayer, rather tentatively. "Lord, I am hearing some things this morning that seem a bit strange, but, out of obedience, I will speak them out - Give Kevin (our pastor) a servant's heart and a shepherd's voice this morning" I confirmed later that this man had no idea that the theme of Kevin's sermon was "the gift of Pastors - the servant shepherd."

After his sermon, Kevin's practice has become, taking a few minutes of silence to listen for Holy Spirit's direction in ministry. During this time, GOD spoke to Matt, who had not been with us in the pre-service prayer. He shared that he believed the the LORD wanted to speak to us about our EYES; He wanted to show us where and to whom He is ministering so we can move with Him. I spoke up then, too, encouraging him in his "hearing;" thematically, this was surely something GOD wanted to speak to his "sheep" that morning.

I know JESUS was at work in many people that morning, speaking personal words of encouragement in our individual "languages," but I'll mention just one more, as it's a first hand account. During the sermon Kevin had shared a personal story about his time as a camp counselor back in college, at which time he thought "This is what I was made for" - shepherding people. That phrase jumped out at me, as Kevin spoke it, and I had the sense that GOD wanted to minister to someone in the room for which that statement caused a "stir" in their spirit. So I had written in down and circled it, so I didn't forget to share it later. After the listening time I did share what I felt GOD was saying for someone, and then, as Kevin and I were waiting at the front for anyone who wanted prayer, a man approached us. He confirmed that all I had spoken was exactly what he was thinking and feeling, when Kevin shared his story and "this is what I was made for.." phrase. GOD continued to encourage this friend, as we prayed for him, giving us pictures and words that spoke to his heart.

It strikes me that THIS is what we were all made for, to be in relationship with the ONE who created us, to help each other understand the eccentricities of HIS voice to see what HE sees and partner with HIM in what He's doing in this world.