"From Here"

There is no easy path, from here.

There is adventure, blessings rich;

Heartache, labor, uncertainty,

Detours maybe, but no going back.

If we were still children, we’d be home by now.

But for us home is a tabernacle,

now gently tied,

now violently clinging, now folded and creased

For the road to the next level place.

We follow the cloud, the fire that makes

each landscape real.

Sometimes as it pauses, we forget it is there;

Sometimes we run to keep in step.

We only know: we won’t be lost.

There are no perfect solutions, yet;

But we walk along a path of perfecting.

So we pray:

Give us what we want,

Give us to know what we want,

Give us our wants, until we are only

Enveloped in the center stream

Of your will.

Teach us to trust you are already there

In the campsites and in the City

That are ours, already, but that we can’t quite see

From here.

Shared by consent of the author: Rebecca Faith Carhart

Relationships

• A person may expect you to model Jesus Christ in your actions and speech toward him/her. Those who love us should do so. But if this person is not modeling Jesus in word and deed toward you as well, That Is Wrong. If this person requires your display of Christ-likeness to be perfect—not permitting you to express the frailty of your broken human nature, That Is Wrong.

• A person may state concerns that perhaps you have a certain habit or tendency. Those who love us should do so. But if this person does not invite you to share the deep fears and wounds of your heart which may be contributing to the appearance (real or imagined) of this tendency, That Is Wrong. Also, if this person persistently makes jokes or finds “evidence” of this habit far more than he/she emphasizes positive behaviors and attributes, That Is Wrong.

• A person may encourage you to engage socially. Those who love us should do so. But if this person repeatedly emphasizes the inconstancy of friendships and/or discourages the sharing of real thoughts and feelings, That Is Wrong.

• A person may tell you that he/she loves you, display evidence of this affection in time or gifts, and may expect you to respond in kind. Those who love us should do so. But if this person begins to demand these evidences occur frequently and/or in a certain manner—including levels of intimacy beyond what is appropriate for the time and place, That Is Wrong. If you find yourself fearful that any deviation, extenuating circumstances or personal needs on your part to be “evidence” that your love is not true, That Is Wrong.

• A person may demand your honesty. Those who love us should do so. If this person repeatedly responds to your thoughts, fears, questions, or needs with silence or a lack of concern, That Is Wrong. If this person repeatedly interprets your honesty as a personal attack, criticizes, or offers only angry words in response, That Is Wrong.

• A person may expect integrity, consistency, and cooperation from you. Those who love us should do so. If this person refuses to make any exceptions for you, but frequently has an exception for his/her own actions and habits, That Is Wrong.

Do you recognize any of these as recurring themes in you own relationships? If you have been on the receiving end of one or more of these patterns, I am deeply sorry.

Do you have any questions about right and wrong relationships? Let’s be very honest here.

Heavy Lies

Job knew his ten children had just begun another round of banquets that day. He was undoubtedly thinking of his duties, as the family elder and priest, to once again offer sacrifices on behalf of his children when their feasting was finished. But Job’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a messenger, shouting that all of Job’s oxen and donkeys had been plundered; all the attendants killed except this one. Hard upon his heels came another frantic messenger, to inform Job that all his sheep had been consumed by holy fire; all the attendants incinerated except this one. Immediately another messenger arrived, panting out news of the theft of all Job's camels; all the attendants slaughtered except this one. And instantly a fourth messenger rushed in, crying that all Job's children had died in the collapse of the eldest son’s house; all the attendants crushed except this one. God is capricious. Aside from using you for his amusement, he sees no worth or merit in you. God does not love you.

Adonai Tzva’ot [“the Lord of Hosts”] gave Satan permission to attack Job. Interesting, isn't it, that Satan chose to spare one attendant from each calamity. He could have simply allowed Job to find out over the period of a week or two...drawing out the suspense, gradually heightening the tension. But Satan chose to hit hard, hit fast. In the face of God's own opinion of Job—that he was an upright man who would never curse Adonai—it seems that Satan decided to give his lie as much reinforcement as he possibly could. He even used "fire from God" as one of the manners in which he chose to attack Job. (And he used that fire to consume Job’s sheep, specifically. There is added importance in that gesture, but it’s a subject for another time.)

Satan spoke to Job through the total destruction of his legacy. God does not love you. Your service and devotion cannot please him; your children cannot please him; you cannot please him.

Satan spoke to Job in the torment of his own body: This is the extent of God’s capricious regard for you. This agony is your true priesthood, your sole heritage. God does not love you.

Satan spoke to Job through the pointed absence of his relatives and community (42:11): You have been chosen for torment. You are utterly abandoned--God has made you a blight upon the earth.

Satan spoke to Job from the mouth of his wife (2:9): "Why do you still hold on to your integrity? Curse God and die!" God does not love you. End your misery; it's more than you can bear. Get the only satisfaction you can hope for.

Satan spoke to Job through the false vision given to his friend, Elifaz (4:12-21): "Can a human being be seen by God as righteous? Can a mortal be pure before his maker? [God] doesn't trust even his own servants, he finds fault even with his angels; much more those living in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust." God finds no merit in you. Your upright conduct is a farce. He will never be pleased with you. Curse him. Then die. Lash out, and then seek respite in oblivion. God does not love you.

Job’s very foundations were assaulted from every side. A solid wave of malevolence engulfed him, and seemingly dissolved the very ground upon which he stood. On his arm, Job bore the shield of Adonai—the defense of all who seek the Lord. But he could not block all of the blows. The darkness pierced Job so intentionally, so persistently. He knew that he’d committed no sin: this punishment was not justified by any wrongdoing of his. But when the lies flood in—when feet seem to no longer find purchase on solid foundations and flailing arms can find nothing but twisted darkness to hang onto—what is there to grasp? What was Job to believe about God? What was he to believe about himself? The number of his wounds mounted. All he clutched dissolved to swirling ashes. How difficult must it have been to blindly trust in the Most High, and to believe he is Just and Good?

Job was not a perfect man. He struggled and doubted; his legs began to buckle. Repeated blows from all sides take such a toll. “Why do you hide your face and think of me as an enemy? Do you want to harass a wind-driven leaf? Do you want to pursue a dry straw? Is this why you draw up bitter charges against me and punish me for the faults of my youth?” (13:24-26) The enemy struck a little deeper than Job could bear; he gasped…and breathed in some of the ashes clouding the air around him.

“[Why give light] to a man who wanders blindly, whom God shuts in on every side?” (3:23)

~~~~~~~

Jesus spent thirty-three years on this earth. Prior to that, he spent all of eternity (not simply the finite time leading up to his birth, but all of eternity: all the time that ever can be, and all that exists outside of that time) in perfect union with God the Father, and God the Holy Spirit. And at the proper moment, he willingly relinquished it all.

Jesus faced oppression in all possible forms. The four gospels provide detailed accounts of three particularly intense struggles: Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, his time of prayer just before his arrest, and his trial and torture prior to death. Yet even as a mortal man, our sinless Messiah still enjoyed unbroken communion with God. Unlike Job, the Son of God had an unwavering foundation. Jesus’ legs could not be swept from under him; his grasp of his Father’s Goodness never loosened. Even as he labored out of Jerusalem toward his death on the hill called The Skull, omnipotent Father and obedient Son remained unhindered in their unity.

But the cross was yet before him.

Darkness gathered in this, the hour of its rule. From the moment of Jesus’ arrest, it crashed down to engulf his world. All around him dissolved to swirling ashes. He did not reach out, hoping to clutch something solid in the decaying air. He did not shout or gasp. The foundation beneath his feet no longer visible, Jesus walked deliberately forward; the Holy Spirit guided him step by step along the narrow, unseen path across the battlefield.

Satan spoke to Jesus through Judas’ betraying kiss, and the desertion of his closest friends: You are truly alone. They do not love you. Your devotion and sacrifice cannot satisfy them. You cannot triumph.
Jesus replied, “This is the cup the Father has given me; am I not to drink it?” (Jn 18:11) and stood firm in his belief of the Father’s sovereignty: “I have not lost one of those you gave me” (Jn 18:9)

Satan spoke to Jesus in the torment of his own body and Pilate’s offer of release (Jn. 19:10): Is this agony your true kingship, your priesthood? You are capable of so much more. Defend your name, and take up the honor you’ve denied yourself for so long. Otherwise I will loose them upon you like the ravenous jackals they are. I hold your life in my hands. Declare yourself! Show your power. This is the only way for you to triumph.
Jesus declared, “You would have no power over me if it hadn’t been given to you from above.” (Jn. 19:11) He clung to his Father’s wisdom: “My kingship does not derive its authority from this world’s order of things.” (Jn 18:36)

Satan spoke to Jesus from the mouths of his nation: "Take him away! Take him away! Put him to death on the stake! We have no king but the Emperor." (Jn 19:15) “His blood is on us and on our children!” (Mt 27:25) They do not love you. End your misery; it's more than you can bear. Get the only satisfaction you can hope for. Declare yourself! Show your power. Make them love you.
Jesus replied only with his silence.

The enemy took his cue. Noon had come: the hour of greatest light succumbed to the dominion of darkness. The malevolent cloud surrounding the Messiah spread wide to consume all inhabitants of the living day. Swirling ash became a tangible shroud. And although his physical body stumbled on the long, blood-soaked trek out of the city, Jesus did not gasp or falter. His trust in the Goodness of his Father did not buckle under the blows. He continued moving forward, one step at a time, as carnage and chaos ruled all around.

But the cross was yet to come.

It was now early afternoon. The oppressive pall continued to gorge upon Jerusalem—striking indiscriminately, and drinking deeply of the fear and despair that poured from open wounds. The darkness grew stronger, the people weaker.

Satan spoke to Jesus from the throats of Jew and Gentile, usurping the voice of his Bride: “Aha! So you can destroy the Temple, can you, and rebuild it in three days? Save yourself and come down from the stake!” “He saved others, but he can’t save himself!” “So he is the Messiah, is he? The King of Israel? Let him come down from the stake! If we see that, then we’ll believe him!” (Mk 15: 29-32) “Hail to the King of the Jews!” (Mk 15:18) See how they love you. See what good your love does without power. Declare yourself! Reduce them to cinders with one blaze of your glory; we both know you can. Remove yourself from this pain and claim your honor!
Jesus again turned to his ever-present Father: “Father, forgive them; they don’t understand what they are doing.” (Lk 23:34)

Jesus never faltered. He remained: hanging by his arms from the execution stake, forcing his body upward to drag air into his searing throat and drop down again. In Jesus’ spirit lay the power to break free and heal himself in an instant…or even just to deaden his nerves, or supernaturally call air into his drowning lungs. But Jesus’ feet remained fixed to the solid foundation forged by his unbroken communion with Adonai, his Father. His trust did not waiver. No ash passed his lips.

But the cross was yet to be realized.

Three hours past noon. And then the final blow, the ultimate agony: not death, but Death. The ultimate purpose for voluntarily entering into time came upon Jesus in an instant: Sin. The sinless Messiah took up a weight heavier than the cloud of lies surrounding that hill. And in that moment he incurred the absolute price: Separation. The cross had come. Sin devoured the passionate bond of omnipotent Father and obedient Son. Unparalleled agony! Throwing back his head, Jesus abused his weakened lungs to cry out in his extremity of anguish: “My God! My God! Why have you deserted me?” (Mt 27:46) Who can imagine the torn and bleeding void left in the wake of such unity! God ripped from himself…willingly…in the ultimate act of love and communion. One blow had finally penetrated!

But had it really? Even in his unmitigated torment, the words of Jesus’ cry originate in the Psalms. “My God! My God! Why have you abandoned me? Why so far from helping me, so far from my anguished cries?...Nevertheless, you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.” (Psalm 22:1, 3) The son of David repeated the prayer of his earthly forefather, declaring his undying trust in the power and faithfulness of his heavenly Father. The Sacrificial Lamb announced the fulfillment of prophecy, laid out so clearly in earlier generations.

The darkness pushed in, tearing and hacking, seeking surrender. Feet firmly planted upon ash, Jesus maintained his grip upon the severed bond—the union of which he could not now partake. But still He refused defeat. And then, with his last vestiges of endurance, Jesus hoarsely shouted, “Father! Into your hands I commit my spirit.” Quoting David once more, the Son of God vocalized his trust in the unchanging Goodness of his Father, glorifying Adonai even in the perfection of his torment. “Free me from the net they have hidden to catch me, because you are my strength. Into your hands I commit my spirit; you will redeem me, Adonai, God of truth” (Ps 31:4-5). The Word Incarnate proclaimed to all those with ears to hear and eyes to see: “Before Abraham came into being, I AM!” (Jn 8:58) Before Job…and after Job…and beyond the end of this world.

And then: “It is accomplished!” (Jn 19:30) The sacrifice was complete. The Lamb accepted death. In so doing, Death was vanquished eternally. Graves unsealed themselves, and many God-fearing men and women returned to life. The blood price had now been met. Forever. And in the instant of his death, the severed bond was restored. The gaping wound of mutilated relationship was healed. But the nail scars remained.

By forfeiting his birthright in loving obedience, Jesus ensured the permanence of his unity with God the Father and God the Holy Spirit…throughout all the time that ever can be, and all that exists outside of that time. By standing in the indefensible void, he forged a path across the battlefield. And he gained the eternal authority to share that path. The Temple veil shielding the Holy of Holies supernaturally ripped from top to bottom. We have access. The foundation can never be shaken or dissolved; our bond cannot be broken. Moreover, Jesus tempered a weapon in the fires of his torment: a two-edged sword. If we choose to walk his path through the carnage, we not only carry the shield of Adonai on our arm. We walk with the sword of Jesus in our hand. We are not at the enemy’s mercy. We will only taste ashes if we choose to breathe them in.

~~~~~~~

Job did not fail entirely. He neither blamed nor cursed God. Even as his legs began to buckle, and the bitter taste of ash filled his mouth, Job still reached out for that which he could not feel: he sought Adonai Shamah [“The Lord is There”]. Job cried out in question, and despair…until the darkness parted before God’s own sword: his blatant invitation to Job for a closer relationship. Satan lost. And Job learned of the grandeur, the majesty, and the mercy of Adonai Nissi [“The Lord is My Banner/Miracle”]. He stood, weak-kneed, on solid ground once more—now armed with a powerful sword (although it was not yet forged in completion) for future combat. As the ash settled, Job surveyed the carnage of a now-visible battle field, with an increased depth to his trust in a God who is absolutely Good. And that growth had been the Lord’s plan all along. Although it was not yet forged in completion, the Lord gave Job a powerful sword for support in future combat.

God restored to Job all that had been taken. Job regained his wealth in double measure. Of course, this was not instantaneous: even with the Lord’s favor, herds can only multiply so quickly. What sort of conversations did Job have with the Most High as he painstakingly rebuilt from scratch, I wonder? The Lord blessed Job with another ten children. Again, this would have taken some time. And the first ten would never be replaced or forgotten. I’m sure the devoted father often recalled a bright laugh, a cocky stance, or a sullen nature that he would never meet again on this earth. How heavily must Job have relied upon that Goodness at times? Job’s body was restored instantly; at least, his skin was healed—since he offered sacrifices for his erring friends, he must have been ritualistically clean. But were Job’s mind and spirit healed as quickly? It is doubtful. Usually, scars remain. And what if the long days and nights of sitting brought on some other physical problem? Job had many days left to live. He may have limped, in body or in mind, through all of them. Were Job’s relationships with his wife, his relatives, his community ever made right again? I do not know. It is clear that interaction resumed, but some of these relationships may have sustained lasting damage. At the very least, it probably took some time. No further attacks on Job are recorded. That does not mean he didn’t face any. But Job had endured some very harsh growth; Adonai does not waste such a gift. In spite of residual scarring—or rather, because of it—Job probably withstood the blows much better in future battles.

My growth is never painless. Satan is too clever--he doesn't make blunted weapons. Nor does he aim for my fortified areas. Sometimes when he pierces me, I bleed and crumple under the blow. But the Most High does not make blunted weapons either. Long after Job’s struggle toward God, Jesus Christ provided me with a double-edged sword. Satan may still pierce me; but as I bleed, I can dig my sword into the ground as a walking stick.

The Lord allows me to encounter trials in order to strengthen my trust and dependence upon him. But first, he makes me aware of the area(s) in which I am weak. This process often involves failure on my part (sometimes partial, or hidden, sometimes huge and blatantly obvious). Discovering my own pathetic state is unpleasant, even discouraging. Facing the truth can provide another opportunity for attack: You're distgusting. There's no way you deserve the love of another human being, much less the love of God. This is your identity. You cannot escape or overcome.

Everything becomes overwhelming--bleak and weighty. I carry a mighty weapon. But wounded and beleaguered, it is still easy to find myself pressed into a small corner of my own soul. All thought of taking the offensive disappears. Survival becomes my only hope...and even that is tenuous. I long for my Lord; I know he's somewhere nearby, but I cannot move to search for him. I am being pressed down too tightly. I can't raise my arms to attack, or defend. I can’t even muster the strength to push my sword into the ground to prop myself up.

But then, through the oppression and chaos, I hear the weapon I carry speaking to me: “Dear one, are you not the Child of the Most High? Are you not the Bride of Christ? You still have his sword in your hand. When the attacks become too heavy for action, take refuge in the weight of his sword in your hands. There is rest. There is protection. There is hope. You do not need to carry the fight forward, dear one; you need only not give ground—don’t retreat. He is fighting for you. No matter how great your distress, just remember the magnificent Goodness he has given you to hold. Trust him. Just grip tightly and wait—he’s coming for you.”

He does come for me. Every single time. The Most High, our Lord, is pleased to use us, particularly in our weakened state. He is faithful to save, and to heal. But regardless of whether we stand or fall, he may not choose to remove all traces of our battle scars. We'll limp for a while…perhaps until the end of time. But it serves only to make us lean upon our swords more instinctively, and cry out more quickly to Adonai Tzidkenu [“The Lord our Righteousness”]. We become less likely to crumple under the blows.

“Be strong, and fill your hearts with courage, all of you who hope in Adonai.” (Psalm 31:24)

Let God show you the lies beleaguering you. Let him sustain you through all of these attacks, gradually fortifying you against them. Take up the sword he has given you: attack with it, lean upon it. And let the loving power of the Most High remove your last doubts of his Goodness.

~ ~ ~

I originally published a version of this piece over a year ago. But as the Lord has continued leading me through many battlefields, I found myself again meditating upon the themes of this piece. I hope He revives and encourages you through these words once again. Please feel free to share any lies or battles you are currently facing, so that we can support each other.

Praying

2 Kings 6:8-20

Isaiah 61

Psalm 113

Psalm 86

the veil

"But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit." ~2 Corinthians 16-18

http://indychristianmedia.ning.com/video/scott-bateson-testimony

Walking On

Well, my friends, I spent this week having a marriage retreat with the Lord. It's been beautiful. And difficult. The Lord spent this week showing me an area where I fail to call upon Him in the ways I should be doing. He's slowly drawing me out of myself and teaching me to trust more completely in His goodness--and then act upon that trust. Since I'm wide awake at 2am, I bet our marriage retreat is not finished. So I'm off to have some cuddle time with Jesus!

And while I'm talking to Him, I will most certainly devote a few minutes to praying for you. Please feel free to share what the Lord is teaching you right now, dear reader--the beautiful and the difficult.

—composite undoing

drowning—here—in tempest flames—

dusty crumbs of—breath—devoured

—forfeit—to torrential blaze—

—and—yet——

lungs—breath breathes—overmuch—

skin—heat heals—not enough—

life—death dies—slower—still—

hope—fear fears——weak of will—

Prayer

"My Lord, you know the questions written on our hearts. Thank you for occasionally writing answers there. And thank you for more often re-writing the questions."

Suffering...and Truth

A dear friend of mine recently shared with me one of her favorite quotes. It began, “This life on earth is the closest any Believer will come to experiencing hell…”

How true that is! And every bit of this hellish experience serves a Purpose. His Purpose. Occasionally the Lord may offer individuals a glimpse of the pain and difficulty waiting down the road; more often He chooses not to do so. But there are two excellent reasons why He doesn’t need to impart that specific knowledge to us:

First, He has already warned us throughout His written word that we will face great trouble. There. Will. Be. Suffering. The details are irrelevant.

Second, He has already overpowered every enemy we collectively could possibly encounter AND He goes before us, individually—blocking or limiting obstacles, placing other Believers nearby to encourage and comfort us, and deliberately cultivating His relationship with each of us. There. Will. Be. God. The details are handled.

Far be it from me to make light of the burdens and heartache many Believers are asked to bear. My heart, my mind, cannot comprehend the breadth of suffering this world has to offer. But! Think on this: the “hell” of life in this warped, fallen existence is fleeting. Moreover, you will never have to be any farther from the Father than you find yourself in this moment. It only gets better from here, dear reader! Let’s keep pressing in.

That Which the Locust Has Eaten

~The Emporer’s Old Clothes—Part C~

So there I stood: rebelliously freed from my old garment with no replacement garments in sight.

My dear reader, hopefully you are seeking the Lord faithfully enough that He has confronted you with the Truth about some area of your life. If so, I’m sure you can relate to my dilemma in that moment of Truth: realization brought the strong temptation to panic. Instead of waiting quietly before the One who obviously had everything under control, the One who had revealed this lie to me in the first place—instead of asking, “Lord, now that you’ve shown me the Truth, what should I do about this garment? How do you want to fix my problem?”—instead of keeping my eyes and mind focused upon Him, I gave in to the frantic wish to be free of my robe immediately. I had not waited for the Lord, had not sought His solution.

Because of my own haste, I was naked. Completely exposed.

The Lord’s second “knot jerking” session—a far more extensive operation than bringing me to salvation—was under way.

I did not possess the capability of creating my own ideal. I had no concept of how to look like, act like, or dress like “Me.” I discovered that I did not know how to have an opinion; in fact, I did not really know how to think for myself. But I had long believed that I should not ask for help—I would only be a burden, an annoyance. So I could not reason or develop my own thoughts…but would not make any requests of classmates or professors to teach me how. Clearly, this was a recipe for disaster. And because of my own panic, I was still emotionally naked: I had no identity.

So, did I cry out to the Lord, admitting my inability to handle the situation? No. As I mentioned before, I had long believed that I should not burden another with my problems or apparent failure to measure up. Jesus, my Savior and Lord, was not exempt from my prideful fear of being a bother. How arrogant and blind can my human heart possibly be?

* * *

“Here is my servant, whom I support, my chosen one, in whom I take pleasure. I have put my Spirit upon him; he will bring justice to the Goyim. He will not...snap off a broken reed or snuff out a smoldering wick....Thus says God, Adonai, who...gives breath to the people on [the earth] and spirit to those who walk on it: 'I, Adonai, call you[, my servant,] righteously, I took hold of you by the hand, I shaped you and made you a covenant for the people, to be a light for the [gentiles], so that you can open blind eyes, free the prisoners from confinement, those living in darkness from the dungeon. I am Adonai; that is my name; I yield my glory to no one else….The blind I will lead on a road they don't know, on roads they don't know I will lead them; I will turn darkness to light before them, and straighten their twisted paths. These are things I will do without fail....Listen, you deaf! Look, you blind!—So that you will see! Who is as blind as my servant, or as deaf as the messenger I send? Who is as blind as the one I rewarded, as blind as the servant of Adonai?’

“You see much but don’t pay attention; you open your ears, but you don’t listen. Adonai was pleased, for his righteousness’ sake, to make the Torah great and glorious. But this is a people pillaged and plundered, all trapped in holes and sequestered in prisons. They are there to be plundered, with no one to rescue them; there to be pillaged, and no one says, ‘Return them!’…But now this is what Adonai says, he who created you…he who formed you…‘Don’t be afraid, for I have redeemed you; I am calling you by your name; you are mine. When you pass through water, I will be with you; when you pass through rivers, they will not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire, you will not be scorched—the flame will not burn you….Bring my sons from far away, and my daughters from the ends of the earth, everyone who bears my name, whom I created for my glory—I formed him, yes, I made him.’

“Bring forward the people who are blind but have eyes, also the deaf who have ears."

~Isaiah 42-43:8~

* * *

I love the ninth chapter of John. In the first seven verses alone, the Lord provides such a wealth of reasons to praise Him! Like the blind beggar, Jesus chooses us out for healing--without our asking, and often without our even realizing the need or possibility of healing exists. He blinds us in order to give us sight. And He orders us to move: calling us to participate, to "own" our new growth and freedom. I don't know about you, but I regularly find myself feeling very, very spoiled by how generous the righteous, pure, holy Most High God is with His time and resources--toward me! I am chosen… redeemed… protected… loved. Even when I do not acknowledge my own need for His attention and healing.

In the midst of my nakedness, my blind panic and deaf rebellion, Jesus chose me. He blinded me. He called me to move forward in faith. And as I did so, He began to give me sight.

[final version of Part C--begun in 2009. Part D will follow soon!]

Extended Intermission

Thank you so very much for your patience, dear reader. I apologize for the continued delay of further installments in "That Which the Locust Has Eaten." I haven't forgotten or disappeared off the face of this planet. Some interesting, unexpected opportunities have kept me rather busy of late. I hope to pick up my train of thought and resume sharing with you soon.

In the meantime, I would be honored to learn what you're learning, experiencing, or contemplating. Do you have any questions or prayer requests? Please share whatever is on your heart!

Waiting Well

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRQruZ_oX-8

The Ongoing Pageant of Salvation

“I knew something like this would happen,” Alice Wendleken whispered to me. “[Ralph and Imogene] didn’t come at all! We won’t have any Mary and Joseph—and now what are we supposed to do?”

Ralph and Imogene were there all right, only for once they didn’t come through the door pushing each other out of the way. They just stood there for a minute as if they weren’t sure they were in the right place—because of the candles, I guess, and the church being full of people. They looked like the people you see on the six o’clock news—refugees, sent to wait in some strange ugly place, with all their boxes and sacks around them.

It suddenly occurred to me that this was just the way it must have been for the real Holy Family, stuck away in a barn by people who didn’t much care what happened to them. They couldn’t have been very neat and tidy either, but more like this Mary and Joseph (Imogene’s veil was cockeyed as usual and Ralph’s hair stuck out all around his ears). Imogene had the baby doll but she wasn’t carrying it the way she was supposed to, cradled in her arms. She had it slung up over her shoulder, and before she put it in the manger she thumped it twice on the back.

I heard Alice gasp and she poked me. “I don’t think it’s very nice to burp the baby Jesus,” she whispered, “as if he had colic.” Then she poked me again. “Do you suppose he could have had colic?”

I said, “I don’t see why not,” and I didn’t. He could have had colic, or been fussy, or hungry like any other baby. After all, that was the whole point of Jesus—that he didn’t come down on a cloud like something out of “Amazing Comics,” but that he was born and lived…a real person.

Next cam Gladys, from behind the angel choir, pushing people out of the way and stepping on everyone’s feet. Since Gladys was the only one in the pageant who had anything to say she made the most of it: “Hey! Unto you a child is born!” she hollered, as if it was, for sure, the best news in the world. And all the shepherds trembled, sore afraid—of Gladys, mainly, but it looked good anyway.

[Then] everybody in the audience shifted around to watch the Wise Men march up the aisle.

“What have they got?” Alice whispered.

I didn’t know, but whatever it was, it was heavy—Leroy almost dropped it. He didn’t have his frankincense jar either, and Claude and Ollie didn’t have anything, although they were supposed to bring the gold and the myrrh.

“I knew this would happen,” Alice said for the second time. “I bet it’s something awful.”

“Like what?”

“Like…a burnt offering. You know the Herdmans.”

Well, they did burn things, but they hadn’t burned this yet. It was a ham—and right away I knew where it came from. This was the Herdman’s food-basket ham. It still had the ribbon around it, saying Merry Christmas.

“I’ll bet they stole that!” Alice said.

“They did not. It came from their food basket, and if they want to give away their own ham I guess they can do it.” But even if the Herdmans didn’t like ham (that was Alice’s next idea) they had never before in their lives given anything away except lumps on the head. So you had to be impressed.

“They’re ruining the whole thing!” Alice whispered, but they weren’t at all. As a matter of fact, it seemed to me that the Herdmans had improved the pageant a lot, just by doing what came naturally—like burping the baby, for instance, or thinking a ham would make a better present than a lot of perfumed oil.

Usually, by the time we got to “Silent Night,” which was always the last carol, I was fed up with the whole thing and couldn’t wait for it to be over. But I didn’t feel that way this time. I almost wished for the pageant to go on, with the Herdmans in charge, to see what else they would do that was different.

Everyone sang “Silent Night,” including the audience. We sang all the verses too, and when we got to “Son of God, Love’s pure light” I happened to look at Imogene and I almost dropped my hymn book on a baby angel.

Everyone had been waiting all this time for the Herdmans to do something absolutely unexpected. And Sure enough, that was what happened.

Imogene Herdman was crying.

In the candlelight her face was all shiny with tears and she didn’t even bother to wipe them away. She just sat there—awful old Imogene—in her crookedy veil, crying and crying and crying.

For years, I’d thought about the wonder of Christmas, and the mystery of Jesus’ birth, and never understood it. But now, because of the Herdmans, it didn’t seem so mysterious after all.

When Imogene had asked me what the pageant was about, I told her it was about Jesus, but that was just part of it. It was about a new baby, and his mother and father who were in a lot of trouble—no money, no place to go, no doctor, nobody they knew. And then, arriving from the East (like my uncle from New Jersey) some rich friends.

But Imogene, I guess, didn’t see it that way. Christmas just came over her all at once, like a case of chills and fever. And so she was crying.

As far as I’m concerned, Mary is always going to look a lot like Imogene Herdman—sort of nervous and bewildered, but ready to clobber anyone who laid a hand on her baby. And the Wise Men are always going to be Leroy and his brothers, bearing ham.

When we came out of the church that night it was cold and clear, with crunchy snow underfoot and bright, bright stars overhead. and I thought about the Angel of the Lord—Gladys, with her skinny legs and her dirty sneakers sticking out from under her robe, yelling at all of us, everywhere:

“Hey! Unto you a child is born!”

(The Best Christmas Pageant Ever; chapter 7, abridged)

~ ~ ~

Thank you so very much for the gift of sharing this space with me. I count it a privilege to walk with you, and an honor that you contribute your time and thoughts. My goodness, friends, it has been quite a year… I don’t know about every one of you, but I can safely say that Jesus has been refining me with a vengeance these twelve months. So many reasons to praise my Lord and Lover! My year was a journey of heartbreak…of farewells and hellos…belly laughs (the kind that leave your eyes watering and your muscles sore)…painful obedience…joy…of desperate tears and determined worship…bubbles…coloring parties…ping pong…of grace and marvelous provision. And all of this becomes part of the beautiful, quirky, upside-down, perfect pageant the God is putting on to display His eternal Glory.

So, my friends, I will wish you a Merry Christmas; but I do not ask you to celebrate “The True Meaning Of Christmas.” Goodness no! That would be silly!

I want you to celebrate much more than that.

“After all, that was the whole point of Jesus—that he didn’t come down on a cloud like something out of 'Amazing Comics,' but that he was born and lived…a real person.” The child narrator of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever is on the right track: Jesus’ birth is only part of what we commemorate with Christmas. The Son of God never sought to glorify himself, but instead to draw our gaze to the Most High God. And just as our Lord’s arrival on this earth is a part of the whole holiday, Christmas itself is only part of the whole.

I want you to celebrate so much more than Christmas.

Christmas—the events of which spanned nearly two years in actuality—is one of countless examples (Unquestionably vital! But still “one of,” not even the penultimate) which draw our gaze toward, and demand our worship of, the One and Only Lord God. Christmas would be meaningless without the thirty years of quiet, obedient, private ministry and the final three years of adamant but unassuming public ministry—all without sinning. Christmas holds little significance without the willing, tortured death of an innocent man atoning the guilt for all humanity past and future…and his triumphant resurrection three days later. Christmas is augmented by his forty-plus days of continued teaching afterwards (such a beautiful affirmation that he is indeed Emmanuel “God With Us”) before returning to his Home in power and glory. The Son’s entire earthly ministry pointed to the Father, as God unfolded the climax of His divine pageant over the course of roughly thirty-three years.

But that’s just the climax. I want us to celebrate so much more than the climax.

The whole Jesus’ earthly ministry serves as the fulfillment and the promise within the grand epic of Time. Thirty-three years preceded by millennia of God’s glory: The creation of this world and mankind. Our unified relationship with the Creator, the Source of Life. Our choice to sin and consequent separation from the Source of Life. The Lord’s gracious promise of reconciliation. And long, generations of deliberate, painful groundwork to gradually prepare humanity for the arrival and sacrifice of a Savior—the double fulfillment of a holy promise by One who is holy, and the presentation of a new promise.

Time continues to unfold. Thirty-three years succeeded by millennia of God’s glory: Continued generations of gathered understanding. Furthering of the larger, corporate relationship—with each other as redeemed brothers and sisters, and with our holy God through the intermediary of His Son by way of the Holy Spirit. The deliberate, painful groundwork continues, preparing humanity for the fulfillment of that last promise.

God’s pageant continues. The play is not played out. And we, as players on this stage, are commanded and privileged to participate in this grand epic of Time created by the Most High to display His glory. But even when this epic ends, the pageant will continue. Into all eternity. Because God will never run out of glory to display.

We are witnesses and participants of more than this epic, more than Time. We need to celebrate much more than that.

Thank you for participating in this pageant with me, dear friends. Let's give the best, most authentic performances we can! “Hey! Unto you a child is born!”

Looking Back to Look Forward

(Carrion Comfort)

Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.

But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-earth right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruised bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?

Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, cheer.

Cheer whóm though? The héro whose héaven-handling flúng me, fóot tród
Me? or mé that fóught him? O whích one? is it eách one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.

~ Gerard Manley Hopkins

* * *
December: Three

This weariness of mine, may it not come
From something that doth need no setting right?
Shall fruit be blamed if it hang wearily
A day before it perfected drop plumb
To the sad earth from its nursing tree?
Ripeness must always come with loss of might,
The weary evening fall before the resting night.

~ George MacDonald

* * *
.sustaineD

I am the
Widow’s jar
Holding only
Enough oil
For one
More
Morn
But
When
You
Pour me
Out the oil continues
Flowing in unending stream of praises

~ n4m 9/22/08

More Than Gravy and Cranberry Glop

We’re rapidly approaching the day set aside for reflection. In the spirit of worship this Thanksgiving, here are a few of the things I find myself thanking the Lord for right now:

• The basics: food…shelter…sleep…clothing…prayer…hugs…chocolate…bubbles. Because when I stop to think about it, these “basics” are not-so-basic for many people.
• Quote boards! And the witty, delightful people who help fill them.
• I have a job I strongly dislike, but through which the Lord blesses me richly. The often-painful manual labor reminds me not to complain, and also affords me plenty of time to pray and worship. The inconsistent hours cause me to lean heavily upon His provision. The negative atmosphere forces me to consciously strive to give my best, and be optimistic. Isn’t it wonderful that His ways are not our ways!
• A mother who walks with the Lord; there’s really no higher compliment to bestow.
• The rare occasions on which I have a full-blown sneeze! (instead of a small, mouse-like one)
• The imminent arrival of another lovely winter of SNOW!!!!
• Accidentally winning a scholarship for drawing/painting lessons in middle school (and yes, it really was rather accidental)—resulting in my younger sister, who has the real talent, also taking lessons. I’m thrilled that the Lord used something so random to encourage her incredible gifts as an artist! The work she produces today is zany and breath-taking, and such a testimony to her relationship with the Lord.
• Lots of “firsts”: first year with a bachelor’s degree…first car…first college loans coming due…first ten mouse carcass removals…first time being asked out, and first date (now that was an interesting experience, let me tell ya)
• Verbal sparring matches. And the slightly imbalanced people who make it possible to have them.
• A best friend, whose strengths highlight my weaknesses, with whom I share the same personality type although we’re very different, and who is often mistaken for my sister (even my twin!) but is in fact the prettier lady by far. She is brilliant, loving, generous in so many ways, thoughtful, bold, and very wise. The best mixture of sweet and salty. It’s an honor to know you, babe!
• Three little sisters—biological and adopted—who continually challenge and bless me. Personifications of the Lord’s fragrance. I love you, dear ones!
• Numerous friends younger and older than myself, through whom the Lord calls me into greater righteousness and surrender, and who somehow manage to believe I have something positive and intelligent to offer. You all humble me. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of learning from you, of sharing your thoughts and hearts.
• Striking up conversations with total strangers…and the interesting results thereof!
• I’m grateful that my parents’ genes have resulted in wild hair, cute ears, and nose hairs that don’t stick out.
• For being allowed such a privilege as to walk in relationship and learn from “Him who holds the seven stars in His right hand and walks among the seven golden lampstands.…who is the First and the Last, who died and came to life again.…who has the sharp, double-edged sword.…the Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze.…who has the sevenfold Spirit of God and the seven stars.…HaKadosh [the Holy One, I AM], the True One, who has the key of David, who, if He opens something, no one else can shut it, and if He closes something, no one else can open it.…the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the Ruler of God’s creation.” (Revelation 2:1, 8, 12, 18; 3:1, 7, 14)
• My mother’s ability to beat me, the “walking dictionary,” at Scrabble (every. single. time.)
• Whether or not tryptophan really induces drowsiness, I appreciate the psychological manifestation: Thanksgiving Day naps!!!

~ ~ ~

So what praises are you offering up to the Lord, dear reader?

That Which the Locust Has Eaten

~The Emporer’s Old Clothes—Part C~

So there I stood: rebelliously freed from my old garment with no replacement garments in sight.

My dear reader, hopefully you are seeking the Lord faithfully enough that He has confronted you with the Truth about some area of your life. If so, I’m sure you can relate to my dilemma in that moment of Truth: realization brought the strong temptation to panic. Instead of waiting quietly before the One who obviously had everything under control, the One who had revealed this lie to me in the first place—instead of asking, “Lord, now that you’ve shown me the Truth, what should I do about this garment? How do you want to fix my problem?”—instead of keeping my eyes and mind focused upon Him, I gave in to the frantic wish to be free of my robe immediately. I had not waited for the Lord, had not sought His solution.

Because of my own haste, I was naked. Completely exposed.

The Lord’s second “knot jerking” session—a far more extensive operation than bringing me to salvation—was under way.

I did not possess the capability of creating my own ideal. I had no concept of how to look like, act like, or dress like “Me.” I discovered that I did not know how to have an opinion; in fact, I did not really know how to think for myself. But I had long believed that I should not ask for help—I would only be a burden, an annoyance. So I could not reason or develop my own thoughts…but would not make any requests of classmates or professors to teach me how. Clearly, this was a recipe for disaster. And because of my own panic, I was still emotionally naked: I had no identity.

So, did I cry out to the Lord, admitting my inability to handle the situation? No. As I mentioned before, I had long believed that I should not burden another with my problems or apparent failure to measure up. Jesus, my Savior and Lord, was not exempt from my prideful fear of being a bother. How arrogant and blind can my human heart possibly be?

Fermatas, Caesuras, and Codas in the Score of Father's Time

Only three or four blank pages remain at the end of my current journal. The frequency of my entries has lessened in the last few months—trying to save open space for the “really important” events and ponderings. It will be difficult to say goodbye and move on to a new set of bound, blank pages. This journal has absorbed so many changing experiences with me. I wrote the very first entry on August 1, 2006, in the summer following my junior year of college. (For some of you, dear readers, the significance of that summer is not yet clear, since we have yet to reach that point in my testimony. In many ways, that summer marked a turning point. It was a time of tremendous growth, and also a respite—storing up strength—before the next gathering storm crashed down on my world.)

I’ve decided to share a few entries from that first year; we can walk down memory lane together.

• 8/1/06—Dear Father, thank you for prompting me to read Psalm 139 again this morning. (Thank you, Holy Spirit, for beginning to show me how to pray through scripture! Please continue the work you’ve begun in me.)
• 8/7/06—God, I’m scared and tired and worried. At the same time that I’m delighted to obey you, I doubt myself. I want to follow you, to be a faithful handmaiden…but that house is the last place I’d go of my own accord. Please rescue me from my frailty and doubt! Save me from myself and lead me down the path of righteousness for the sake of your name!
• 8/17/06—[I don’t believe this was addressed to anyone specific at the time it was written] Describing my relationship with God for you would be like describing a sunset to a blind person or trying to recreate a symphony for someone who was born deaf: there simply aren’t words. A relationship with the Perfect Father, with the Only Savior, must be experienced to be understood. [cont. 8/30] It’s a knowledge that runs through my marrow, a knowledge that becomes the core of my being: I AM LOVED. In spite of who I am; because of who I am. I am loved—forgiven, purified, and cherished. He’s offering that love to you, too. God wants to show you a love more constant and pure than any you will ever receive from a friend, a lover, or a father. It’s not about rules, or appearances, or control. This relationship is about relinquishing our broken selves to the one and only Creator, and receiving from him all that [we] can become.
• 8/30/06—There are two ways to deal with the “threat” of God: 1)Run in the opposite direction—eschew him; 2)Walk around him—acknowledge him as the holder of your “Life Insurance Policy” and the one to complain to when times get tough; get a “feel” for God and continue on your way; [cont. 11/19] 3)Take up arms and battle your life away
• 10/24/06—Thank you for clarifying the true nature of compliments for me! It never occurred to me that, as your child, a compliment to me is really a compliment to you!
• 12/20/06—Save me from myself, Father! Today when I caught myself questioning if perhaps I was really at fault—if I was in fact “on my high horse”—I realized just how worn out I’ve become. Mon Dieu! Sauvez-moi! You alone are my strength.
• 1/27/07—Adonai-Tzva’ot please teach me “tzav la-tzav; kav la-kav; z’eir sham, z’eir sham (precept by precept; line by line; a little here, a little there)” Isaiah 28:10….Father, I’m still controlling and manipulative sometimes; I abhor it!!! Take this from me, please. “Hope drawn-out wearies the heart” and brings about destruction. Isaiah 43; Psalm 56:9. Oh my Love, you have brought me so far! Please continue to deliver me from my bondages. Please liberate me from any...baggage I’m unknowingly carrying. Jeremiah 33:3
• 1/29/07—The cry of my heart this morning: My Lord, please fill me with your beauty and wisdom; I want to be an adornment for your temple—for your throne room. I long to hear you say, “Oh, look how this one sparkles and shines!” I want to be all that is wise and beautiful, so that I may bring great honor to you, my Love.
• 2/10/07—“The only appropriate war rhetoric is war rhetoric that calls our enemies spirits, and people with flesh the victims of this war….If we could muster a portion of the patriotism we feel toward our earthly nations into a patriotism and bravery in concert with the kingdom of God, the enemy would take fewer casualties to be sure” (Miller, Donald; Searching for God Knows What, pg. 88).
• 2/17/07—“Jesus did not lend Himself to war causes, to tax issues or political campaigns….to raising money for education or stumping for affirmative action. It was as if he did not trust us to build a utopia….’Follow me,’ He said. ‘I have no opinion about what color the paint should be in this prison. Follow Me.’” (Miller; Searching…, pg 194).
• 2/27/07—[a.m.] My Lord, thank you for helping me to love Becky and myself with your own pure love. When she climbed into bed with me Friday, crying and hurt, you gave me wisdom, Holy Spirit—wisdom and the urgent desire to relinquish our plans to you. Last night (Monday) you gave me insight as to how I’ve been hurting her, and gave me the words to begin healing [our relationship]….Holy Spirit, please continue to work in me.
• 3/1/07—Father, right now my head is swimming; there are so many things you’re showing me right now about yourself, about me, about others, and about life. Please speak to me—please make sense of it all.
• [undated poem]—“Wrap your arms ‘round me/ and dance on my feet/ I delight in your laughter/ my daughter so sweet/ Let me enfold you/ come dance on my feet/ Just smile through your tears/ feel my healing so sweet/ You hold me tight and/ let me dance on Your feet/ the heavens rejoice/ in your glory so sweet/ You give me joy/ make my whole life complete/ My Father, my Savior and King
• 4/19/07—My Lord, I know you love me: 1)in the context of a master whose servant desires to glorify him; 2)in the context of a long-distance lover whose beloved is purifying herself for him; 3)as a potter who perfects his vessel by re-sculpting, and by fire. But I just can’t wrap my mind around your love as my Abba—that you desire to lavish me with blessings. I can’t internalize the idea that you don’t desire to give me a boy who’s “not too bad;” you desire to bless me with a Man who is healthy, who hungers after you! It’s beyond imagining!
• 5/12/07—Abba, I want to desire to allure those I encounter to know more of your heart. You desire—and deserve—to be sought.
• 6/25/07—My Lord, I long to be fully and completely yours. Please fill me to overflowing with your spirit. Holy Spirit, bring all your power to bear in me: your mercy, justice, faith, joy, truth, love, righteousness, healing, prophecy… I want as much of you as possible. I want you to be glorified by my every breath.
• 7/2/07—Abba, it’s times like yesterday—when I was offered money in exchange for receiving oral sex—that I really struggle against the lie that I’m only desirable to scum, that $20 is all I’m worth. Help me hold fast to the truth: I am priceless in your eyes. Holy Spirit please keep me from self-pity and despair. In your love, I am complete; I lack nothing.
• 7/17/07—Abba, all I can do is choose you each and every day. But that’s all it takes, isn’t it? Thank you for holding me tight yesterday. Between what Dad did and did not say…I wouldn’t have made it without you. “He likened you to Absalom.” That’s what Mom told me last night—Dad sees me as Absalom. He sees me as trying to “steal the hearts” of his family and friends. Abba, please wipe away the tears bleeding from my heart. “God, how I prize your thoughts! How many of them there are! If I count them, there are more than grains of sand; if I finish the count, I am still with you” (Psalm 139:17-18).
• 8/14/07—“Those ransomed by Adonai will return and come with singing to Tziyon; on their heads will be everlasting joy. They will acquire gladness and joy, while sorrow and sighing will flee. ‘I, yes I, am the one who comforts you! Why are you afraid of a man, who must die; of a human being, who will wither like grass? You have forgotten Adonai, your maker, who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth. Instead you are in constant fear all day because of the oppressor’s rage, as he prepares to destroy. But where is the oppressor’s rage? The captive will soon be set free; he will not die and go down to Sh’ol; on the contrary, his food supply will be secure. For I am Adonai your God, who stirs up the sea, who makes its waves roar—Adonai-Tzva’ot is my name. I have put my words in your mouth and covered you with the shadow of my hand, in order to plant the skies [anew], lay the foundations of the earth [anew] and say to Tziyon, “You are my people.”’” Isaiah 51:11-16

It’s bittersweet for me to look back and see what has or has not changed. The quotations still reverberate in my heart. Some of my more specific prayers from that period of time (not shared here, for the sake of individuals’ privacy) have been answered; several of them, quite powerfully. All of the prayers included above are yet on my lips—prayed all the more fervently now, because as I move forward I gain a better view of how very distant I am from the goal. Yet here and there I catch the clear notes of progress. And these honey-sweet tones of growth swell, as deepening chords well up from my heart and ring forth: a hallel of honor, worship, and awe; a maskil of repentance, of lessons partially learned, and of longing for the finish line…for home.

Good Shadows

A friend of mine once posed the question: “Do you think there will be shadows in Heaven?” Light and darkness are such clear-cut metaphors of Good and Evil. Can God, as the source of light, redeem physical darkness? Could there possibly be “good shadows” in Heaven?

I recall my friend’s question every now and then as I explore scripture. Particularly any passage that describes us being protected in the shadow of God’s wings (Ps. 17:8; 36:7; 57:1; 63:7).

What does it mean to be in the shadow of God’s wing? What would a good shadow look like?

I think it would look a great deal like Moses jammed in the cleft of a rock with God’s hand blocking shut the rift, while the Lord’s glory passed by (Ex. 33:17-23; 34:5-7). When we beg God to draw near and show us His glory, and it feels as though He increases the distance. When we long to behold the light of His presence, and He seems to give us darkness instead. These are good shadows. The shadows of God's wing: Someplace small…constrained. Someplace with no detectable updraft; someplace in which we are seemingly alone, shut away from the wind currents of the Holy Spirit.

Someplace protected.

I would like to think that there will be good shadows when we reach Heaven—if only to testify that God’s creation in its entirety is Good. We can not yet know what sights await us there. But I am absolutely certain that good shadows exist in this present life. Moses would not have survived the sight of the Lord’s face. A brief glimpse of His receding glory and the whispered utterance of His holy name was enough to leave Moses glowing like molten metal. We are not yet ready to navigate the unbridled winds of His spirit. The force of such wild currents would crush us. So God protects us. He carefully instills the strength and humility to withstand his intense presence and pure name; He gradually prepares us for the true glories of soaring in His updrafts.

And all the while He guards us in the dark stillness underneath His wing.

Introspection

Jesus, I thank You that "You prepare a table for me, even as my enemies watch; you anoint my head with oil from an overflowing cup." Do I trust you enough to sit down and eat--to enjoy and be satisfied? Do I have enough faith in your protection to surrender fully to your anointing?

Thank you for your patience, faithfulness, and grace, my Lord!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWgeUrD4MHI

~ ~ ~
Everything falls into place when I look toward You, my Lord. You are Good and Perfect, Holy, Righteous, and Beautiful. I will sit down and eat; I will be satisfied by your abundance...in the midst of all that seeks to destort and destroy. I will submit to your anointing; I will surrender the mistaken instinct to protect myself, and the false notion that failure is inevitable.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=7elxC8LXfzE

That Which the Locust Has Eaten

~The Emperor’s Old Clothes—Part B~

It’s abuse.

“Abuse. Abuse? Th-that’s just not possible. My parents didn’t beat me, didn’t even hit me beyond proper spankings. Dad never touched me in anger or in lust. I have not been abused.”

Is abuse only physical? Baby, you know better than that.

“But I come from a Christian home, with Christian parents. Granted, I recall seeing Dad read his Bible on only three occasions…and he didn’t partake of church from the time I was six until sometime after my fifteenth birthday. And yes, apparently a Christian husband doesn’t usually convince his wife to stop attending Bible study and women’s group—insisting that her time with the Lord is an idol—complaining that it takes her attention away from himself. Just because I can’t remember him praying with me at any time except his standard supper and bedtime prayers…just because he never had any interest in Mom’s repeated requests for a time of family prayer and devotions…that doesn’t mean anything. Right? Right, Lord?”

Will you listen to my Truth, darling?

Tremors filled me. “But it can’t be true. It just can’t.”

And why is that?

“Because…” My stomach clenched and I released a long, shuddering breath. The words came only in a trembling whisper, “Because…it would mean that what I’ve believed about my life, my family, for eighteen years has been—…”

Has been what?

“Oh God, please! Can we change the subject?”

Has been what, dear one?

“Please…I can’t look at this. Please, don’t make me look at this.”

Oh darling, is life apart from my Truth really Life? Trust me. I am more than sufficient; walk into my Light.

One shaky breath. And another. And then: “…what I’ve believed about my life, my family, for eighteen years has been a…lie.”

As the words left my mouth, they hit the cold air of Truth and solidified into a nimbus of frozen crystals that fell, painfully refreshing against my skin. “Oh, God. It’s been a lie.”

Relief. And Fury. I alternately gulped in cold, heady breaths of each. I looked down at the restricting garment I had worn for eighteen years. It was comprised of lies. And it was thoroughly repulsive to me. I had long struggled in this garment—the robe which bore none of my own personality. So to suddenly breathe in the Truth that my robe was a lie…

I acted hastily. I was sickened to acknowledge that I had carried such an unnecessary weight for years; I felt justified in seeking relief immediately. I would not wear the ideal of someone else! I should be able to dress myself; and that’s exactly what I would do! I didn’t wait to ask the Lord what He wanted to do with my garment—I didn’t bother to ask about His plans. I wanted nothing to do with that robe! In desperate anger, I tore it off and flung it behind me.

For the first time, I discovered that I had the freedom to make and wear my own clothes. More than that, based upon the input of my new friends and classmates, I was expected to dress as myself. So I tore my way out of my father’s garment and declared myself “free.”

But…did I have any concept of how to go about creating my own clothing? No. Absolutely not. I suddenly discovered that I had nothing to wear but the now-discarded robe my father put on me so long ago. So there I stood, with no replacement garments in sight.

I was naked. Completely exposed.

[to be continued in Part C]