Christian living

When Church Happens

He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross. Colossians 2:14

I went to church but I didn’t go all the way in. To be honest, I just didn’t feel like hearing another sermon. I have heard it all before. I have sat and filled in the blanks dutifully, like one more task I have to check off. Done. On to the next thing.

I miss the interaction. I miss how at my old church they would ask if anyone had a burden, a need. And then others standing by would surround them, touch them, hands like gentle doves lighting on shoulders, backs…….. and the Pastor would pray. Sometimes they would cry and we would want to cry too. There is something powerful about the laying on of hands…..passing the Spirit from one to another.

It unifies us all.

Somehow I can’t escape the feeling that we are leaving with our burdens intact. There might be a burning need right next to me, and I would never know it. An inner cry for help like a dial tone unanswered.

We leave as the islands we are. Untouched. Still carrying the heavy load.

I wonder and not for the first time if the Spirit is not quenched with all our organization. Just one Sunday I wish the Pastor would stop and say, “Now everyone turn to your neighbor, not the one you came with, the one you don’t know, and pray for each other for 15 minutes.”

And I miss the altar call. Some say it’s just not needed anymore. It makes people feel embarrassed, singled out. But I disagree. I feel like it’s what draws us all in, and holds us together. Makes us remember when we were the one propelled out of our seat, and how that aisle looked impossibly long.

And when it was just you and the Lord, and no one else. And somehow, you know that this one thing, this one moment will change the course of your eternal destiny. What in the world matters more than that? I believe churches are robbing their congregations when they take this Holy moment away.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in the church more than ever. When I miss it, something is wrong. But I also think that church happens more often than not after we leave the building.

As we sat yesterday with old friends, listening to all they have been through since we had last seen them I felt church happen with the exchange of tears. When she said she was finally getting help in dealing with the death of their little boy. That little boy who was their whole world and in some ways still is.

I can see how that little boy is so alive to them still. And how if he knew what a shadow his death made on their marriage, how sad he would be. I wish I would have told her that if he knew his Mommy was finally getting help, that he would smile from Heaven.

We talked of how it will never go away, he will never go away. But you learn to make some kind of peace with it. And go on for others who still need you.

Church happens when love happens, and not just on Sunday. But over coffee, in between classes, in parking lots, in school buses, everywhere God is.

It happens when we remember the Cross and what was done on it, for us. And that every single thing we bear in this life, He already dealt with.

It was nailed to the cross when He was.

In light of that, we stand at the edge of eternity every day. And with each day, no matter what we have to handle, our gratitude can’t help but grow.

We just can’t stop counting the gifts. Join me today? And Ann at Holy Experience here.



A day in the life

 

Staying one step ahead. That is what you consistently have to do. And if you forget, it throws the whole day off. That kind of living alters your life. It’s very much like having a toddler in the house, you must think of things they may get into before they do. Secure the area at all times.

You leave the washer open in the morning and ready for her soiled PJ’s to go into. And you never  leave washed clothes in the washer, soiled clothes will go on top of them. Many loads had to be repeated because of that.

Check room for dirty clothes she puts back in closet.

Secure unopened mail. Put it somewhere she won’t find it.

Leave phone turned down, always.

Don’t leave suitcases out unless you are ready to answer 100 questions about where you are going and when.

Signs on doors, on microwave…….so many rules.

Yesterday the pacing was bad. Every time I settled down to write she would come back in the door. Or go out again. The silent close of the screen door……50 times a day. And every time, the air conditioner would click on trying to keep up with the raised temp in the house.

There used to be a zoo in my hometown that I liked going to, but I always felt sad for the coyote. He paced all day in his little cell. As a kid I wanted to set him free and live the life he was meant to live, running through fields chasing rabbits. I have never really liked zoos since.

I know Joyce must feel a bit like that coyote, and I can’t imagine what it’s like inside her mind. So I really try to be patient. We take her to Walmart and buy her an ice-cream and let her sit on the benches and watch people. She likes that and so far has only wandered off a few times. Security had to be called.

But yesterday I was in a hurry and just wanted to get there and back.

By the end of the day I felt like the coyote as well, so I went to the store again……..I found myself whistling in the aisles…..I felt that sense of freedom that happens when you are suddenly sprung. I understand now how women with small children feel, just wanting to go…….anywhere away.

Elaine dreams of Alaska with an unlisted number.

This is our life right now. And Jesus is here with us. So it is going to be okay. Because…..

“Never will I leave you or forsake you…….”

Asking the big questions

Therefore do not be unwise, but understand what the will of the Lord is. Ephesians 5:17
 
I slept late because I took a Walmart sleep aid. I missed prayer this morning……and running. That threw me all off.

Then I was messing around with the template and header on my blog yesterday and messed it up. So now it is beautifully off centered…..and the lettering is also not centered. Bless Dusty Rayburn for sending me the code. I know what he sent was right because he is a very smart guy, and a techie. But I put the code in and nothing changed.

And I decided that was okay because my life is very much like my crooked blog header right now. A beautiful picture  but gloriously off center. Not perfect. So I decided to leave it like that as a reminder.

“How did you love today?”

At the close of each day it’s what I ask myself. It seems more often than not there is a big fat red “F” on the report card in my heart. Mentally I check off everything I did wrong. I see fail after fail. Glaring at me from inside their smug little boxes.

We need to ask ourselves the hard questions as Christians. That was what came out of the church service on Sunday morning and ever since, I have wondered. Have I fit Jesus into a comfortable niche in my life?  Am I a “friend” or “follower” like on Facebook or Twitter, or am I a Disciple?

Disciple has definite connotations.

I felt the weight of it all as I stepped out the door to finally go running. I needed it to clear my head, and heart. And as I ran, something happened. I felt it lift. As I heard the words to East and West, I felt the warm oil of His grace from the top of my head all the way down to my toes.

It was like the oil I was anointed with once for sickness. And now I was feeling the healing of His Grace all over again.

Grace that is always greater than all my sin.

And where grace enters in, He always brings His love with it.

Oh God, this is it. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, for the assurance I am still and always Your child.

Only in Jesus can I be that picture of perfection. God sees my heart. The truth is, there is a lot I will get wrong today too, but there are some things I will get right.

I will get up and try again tomorrow with Jesus. And I thought another thing too this morning. That like Alzheimer’s? Once we confess to God, he not only forgives, He forgets all about it.

He has given me a living, breathing example of that right in my own home.

I guess you could say that God has a form of Alzheimer’s too when it comes to our sin.

As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us. Psalm 103:12
 

Love, Dad

—–Original Message—–
From: Lyleret8 Lyleret8@aol.com
To: Lheyd59 Lheyd59@aol.com
Sent: Sat, Sep 1, 2012 8:41 pm
Subject: book

Hi Lori, We worked on the fence today as I told you. The real hard part is done. Ron forgets I am 84. We did bending over all day, I can not do that….I came home and took a shower and relaxed in bed for awhile. I went out on the back deck in the cool breeze and took Merton;s book and you Prayer Closet book to read. I ended up reading your book for an hour and a half. You know I read good books but I was mesmerized by your writing, you write like Thoreau or Kathleen Norris. about nature and life. I can’t tell you how absolutely blown away by your talent. I Love you, Dad.

This email was sent to me by my Dad. And surely he could not have been talking about me, but about someone else…….I teared up when I got it, because I realized again how incredibly blessed I am to be surrounded by people who have sent me things like that my entire life. Not because I am so great, but because they are…..I don’t mind telling you, it made my night.

There is no price we can ever put on the value of good words. And because it was done for me, now I make a habit of doing it too. I never leave my Mom and Dad’s without leaving something under their pillow to find after I leave. And I leave notes around the house where I know Elaine will find them too. She had many words thrown at her growing up, but many were not good. Most were negative.

Edifying words have the power to convince someone they can really do anything they set their mind to do. But negative words have the power to demoralize and destroy. Sometimes those words make someone set out to try even harder to succeed, but all too often they leave a wake of destruction.

Some people spend all their lives recovering from the sting those words leave behind.

God loves it when we give out good words…….He knows their incredible ability to heal, to mend, to uplift.

And that person who has been on your mind? It’s time to write them a note or email . It may come just in time.

And then leave one for God too, even though He already knows what you are going to say…….

And if you have ever thought about setting your blog to print, I would encourage you to do so. It makes a wonderful gift for someone you love. Sure, they can get on the computer and read it, but there is something about being able to hold your words in their hands. Like having a bit of you with them.

Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:24

Telling the story

The most authentic story is the one we are living out right now.
I felt like a kid on the playground who got picked for a game. You remember that feeling, the lineup, the choosing sides? If you are like me, you hated it. I was always short and not very competitive so I never got picked first. Michelle Fromm always got picked first, and you always wanted to be the one she picked first. I was always somewhere in the middle, and that was fine with me, as long as I wasn’t dead last.  
Today, over at Bibledude.net Duane Scott is launching something very special.
I was invited to take part in this wonderful opportunity to share some of my stories, and though I’m still not sure why, it is a great honor. I think maybe God had something to do with it. The reason this means so much is because I believe in it so strongly. We all have a story and no one story is more important than any other, especially to God.
God has written our story on His heart, and more than anything, He wants us to share His story with each other, and with the world. After all, His story is the one that matters most. Like the old hymn says:
Tell me the story of Jesus,
Write on my heart every word;
Tell me the story most precious,
Sweetest that ever was heard.
Tell how the angels in chorus,
Sang as they welcomed His birth,
“Glory to God in the highest!
Peace and good tidings to earth.” 
Well, that is part of it anyway. This song, written by Frances J. Crosby, tells the redemption story. The most important story that will ever be told. And, your story, our stories, matter.
So pull up a chair, sit down beside us on the bench and we will share a story together. Who knows what we may learn from each other…..
Many thanks Duane, again!

Prison Break

“For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” Romans 8:15

I have been trapped in a spirit of oppression lately. I have labeled it work because that is the easiest thing to blame. There has been much stress there, but the main stress has been within myself. Sometimes we just lock ourselves up in prison all over again, even when we know down deep, that once upon a time Christ set us free.

The circumstances of life make us forget.

And I had to be honest. I had to admit, first of all,  that there were very valid reasons why I was stressed. Sometimes it doesn’t help to label all the reasons why you shouldn’t be stressed, or fearful, or depressed. I acknowledged my blessings…..I do everyday.

I see the pictures of the flooding, and the wrecked houses, and lives, and I know that is not me.

And I thank God everyday for what I have, and it is a lot. And everyday I have many moments of joy, but there was something that wasn’t right under the surface.

And though I don’t have to worry about food, or live in a mud hut, or fear that I might be raped at any second as so many women in other countries do…….or fear for my life.

The exhaustion I felt as I held my head in my hands yesterday was real. On the way to work today I felt much the same. Head pressed to the carpet, I prayed just to get up and go in. To put a step in front of the other and keep going in that direction.

For some reason, the words kept coming back to me when I was driving……..

“My chains hit the ground…….my chains hit the ground……my chains hit the ground.” Just like the song we sing in church just about every Sunday. Yesterday, it was the other song about freedom. “My sins are gone….I’ve been set free…..my God, my Savior has ransomed me…” and I didn’t know why.

But now I do.

Because God wanted to tell me something. And this morning He whispered it to my heart so I could hear.
He said…….“Lori, you need to embrace your freedom.” Just that. And immediately I knew it was the truth because tears sprang. I had forgotten my freedom and put myself in a prison of my own making.

My chains are gone……I’ve been set free.

And today right now, I feel better. And another praise, a big one. Elaine passed all her Commercial driving tests today. There is now a new bus driver in the Apache Junction School District. A new path has opened for her, and I just know God is going to bless all those kids through her.

Thank you Lord!

Letting my yes be yes

“But let your statement be, ‘Yes, yes ‘ or ‘No, no’; anything beyond these is of evil. Matthew 5:37
waf·fle 2 (wfl) Informal
v. waf·fled, waf·fling, waf·fles
v.intr.
To speak or write evasively.
v.tr.
To speak, write, or act evasively about.
n.
Evasive or vague speech or writing.
I have learned this one the hard way. I am someone who likes things peaceful and smooth. I don’t like conflict and I am many times too quick to agree or not agree with something if it means not making waves, or making someone else happy. I want to please people. But in the long run, I end up not pleasing them or myself.
Many times in life I have found myself in the uncomfortable position of volunteering or saying yes or no to someone or something and then almost immediately regretting it. In my defense, I have to say that I have gotten better in this area.
I have only come to understand and appreciate what Jesus is saying here more and more as I have gotten older. What he is saying is: “Hey, you will save yourself and others a whole lot of grief if you just give a simple “Yes” or “No.” If you vacillate and agree to something you really don’t agree with or want, you will compromise your character and more than that, and this is the part that’s really painful:
It is poor reflection on God’s character as well.
Not to say that God’s character can be changed because of what I do, it can’t. But if I say I am a believer and people know that? They have a right to expect a certain amount of integrity.
And if people can’t trust my word?
They can’t believe what I say. And what I stand for is in question too.
I had a friend who always had to pray about everything before she agreed to it. Secretly, I used to think that was kind a cop out. A way to get out of doing things. But now?
I am starting to see the wisdom in it.
It saves a lot of time and trouble in the long run when I don’t have to run around doing damage control. It makes others feel much more confident in me.
And me more confident in myself.
What do you think? Have you ever agreed to something and then been really, really sorry?

A Mama’s Prayers

See, I will bring them from the land of the north
    and gather them from the ends of the earth.
Among them will be the blind and the lame,
    expectant mothers and women in labor;
a great throng will return.
They will come with weeping;
    they will pray as I bring them back.
I will lead them beside streams of water
    on a level path where they will not stumble,
because I am Israel’s father,
    and Ephraim is my firstborn son.
 
Jeremiah 31:8,9
 
Ever feel like you’re in exile? I think we all do at some point in life. Maybe you are in a job you hate but you know you need to stay there until retirement. Maybe you are in school and you feel like that is exile. Maybe, God forbid, you are in jail or prison. Wherever or whatever that exile is, you are not where you want to be yet.
 
As I have been reading through Jeremiah, I have wanted to get to the “good part.” Israel rebelled as a nation, adopted other religious practices that went against everything God and everything He stands for, even going as far as sacrificing their own children on altars to foreign gods. It is painful to read, knowing what’s coming.
 
Knowing they will be exiled from their homeland, expelled, taken into captivity. Again.
 
And yet, when I read these words, I thought about Israel today. I think about all they have had to go through as a nation and how God was faithful to His word. None of the powerful nations that went against them are around anymore, and Israel is still standing as a nation, as a people.
 
Flash forward to my life right now. And my life up to this point. How like Israel I have been, ignoring God, thinking I knew best, thinking I didn’t need church, breaking my Mom and Dad’s heart when I decided to give up food. And yet……
 
God was so merciful. He never left me. He brought me out of exile, back home where I belong.
 
I am at a crossroads at work right now, and as I was praying this morning, I knew that I had to once again, give it up to the Lord. I am burned out. There is no spark left in this fire.
 
And yet in other parts of my life the fire is blazing.
 
And anytime someone invites me to write or says what I wrote helped them? I am saved a little bit more.
 
There was a time long ago. God brought it to me again as I was praying this morning, like a sweet balm to my soul. All at once I was back home in front of the fire with my Mom. Tears sprang to my eyes as I remembered how she would get up in the morning before I got ready for High School and start a fire. She and I would watch 700 Club together, just the two of us.
 
And she would take my hand in hers, voice trembling, and pray for me.
 
She knew High School was my exile. It was so hard for me in so many ways. My Dad would have prayed too, but he was in his own exile at that time. A job he hated. And yet God brought him out of that too. Because of his never taking sick leave, he was able to retire at 62. A free man.
 
And because of my Mama’s prayers, I graduated and was removed from my exile too. Through it all God taught me the lesson of faithfulness, and never giving up because someone else is believing in you. And that God is with me wherever I go. And He caused some good things to happen in those four years too.
 
I wrote a poem for my favorite teacher back then, my music teacher Wylie Moffat. Even then words were longing to break free in me. He had it framed and it hung in his house up until he died. And my words were used on the cover of his memorial service bulletin.
 
Today, I am thankful for fireside prayers. They are still working.
 
Thank you Mom, for being so faithful.
 

Change a comin……

The relentless heat has tired us all out, even the birds. The desert is waiting for change, waiting to be relieved from the oppressive grip of summer which will surely come, it always does. Just not when we’re ready. In the desert, you live by its rules, not your own. But there are ever so slight whispers of it nonetheless.

This morning I sat outside and there was a breeze and it was bearable. Enjoyable. I sat there thanking the Lord for moments of peace and time off after a challenging work week. The garden yielded a beautiful watermelon yesterday. When I think that this patch of green was a patch of dirt not too long ago, I think of what God does with our lives, that is when we let Him.

Elaine is off to Texas for a few days for a cherished and much anticipated visit with her Aunt Billie Ruth and her cousin Sandra. Billie Ruth is 88 years young, still active doing tours for local historical buildings and spending hours in the library doing genealogy research for others.

I have been alone with Elaine’s Mom and it has been interesting. She keeps asking where Elaine is, and I keep giving the same answer. We are both learning steps to a new dance, neither one is us sure of the steps. But so far, so good. The hygiene issue is ongoing though, and I never thought I would be thankful for the absence of the sense of smell, but at times like this it does come in handy.

Work is stressful right now, and though I have a few days off now, work looms large on Thursday. The biggest challenge? How can I glorify the Lord in a place where I am fearful and anxious?

I feel it sapping my emotional, mental, and creative strength, nipping at my heels even when I am not there. And even though I am so very thankful for this time off that replenishes, Thursday feels like a steamroller and each day brings me closer to its flattening shadow.

Yet, when I think of all that the Lord has brought me through there from my very first day until now, and how He has been with me with every step, it humbles me greatly.

This will be my seventeenth year there, and while there have been countless anxiety ridden moments and nights where I have tossed and turned with worry, there have also been countless victories, and God has brought me some wonderful friends I would never have met otherwise. Friends who I know will be with me for life.

All along, each worry and fear has been calmed and tempered by His gracious Spirit who has been with me every moment, and with me still. Somehow He always keeps the wave from engulfing me totally and until such time as I am able to walk out the door for good, I want to be faithful with what He has given me.

The only possible way is by leaning on Him. Totally.

And to keep a count of all the good, and there is much that is……….cool morning breezes, whispers of rain that hit my window, fresh melon from the garden, Elaine being able to make this trip, that my niece loves her new school, a wonderful Birthday, telephone conversations with friends and family that always lift spirits, fresh batch of books via Amazon, His daily grace raining down even when I don’t deserve it, words that somehow come together, time off……..always grateful for that. #922-932

Lattes in Church

It’s a curious phenomenon. Ever since bigger churches have started adding bookstores and coffee stands, I have noticed more and more people carrying their lattes into church. It kinda bugs me. Now, anybody that knows me, knows I have a passion for coffee and books. Nobody loves them more than I do, I just think there is a time and place for everything. Maybe it’s the Baptist in me. I think they should be able to put their latte down for an hour or so, at least in church.

Here in the desert, it is very hot and very dry, so I totally understand a bottled water in church. After all, the Pastor may have need of it. He might just have a coughing fit right in the middle of the sermon, or have a bad case of cotton mouth. You could be the hero, offering your water. But coffee is a leisurely drink. Something to have in the fellowship hall (remember those?) after church, with a bad store bought cookie or donut.

To be honest, I even have mixed feelings about having those places on the church premises, although I frequent them myself. It is confusing. I know the money goes to good causes, but even so, my legalistic side imagines Jesus coming in with a whip and tipping over the coffee cart and scattering books everywhere.

I know, I am mixed up.

That’s why I blog, to share my mixed up feelings with my fellow believers, and anyone else who will listen. I have some hangups, I know. I just feel a certain decorum and reverence should accompany church attendance, and yet I love it when our Pastor uses YouTube videos to illustrate a sermon point. And I love that he uses an iPad.

I definitely believe in laughter and humor at church. My Grandmother on the other hand, didn’t think laughter and church belonged in the same sentence. She also didn’t think there should ever be any guitars or drums involved at any time during worship and certainly no clapping or raised hands. She didn’t think church was the place to show any joy or expression of any kind.

She believed in paying attention……well, she paid attention mainly to what everyone else was doing. She sighed loudly in church and embarrassed us all. Bless her heart.

She also picked the quietest time to unwrap her Reed’s peppermint candy and offer one to everyone else in the pew. It also bothered her that after Amy got her divorce, she was still allowed to be the church organist. I can still hear her to this day……”She should be in the back of the church….”

Well, now you can understand why I have all these conflicting feelings about how church should be and how you should behave in it. Just last Sunday, I saw two of the shortest skirts I have ever seen, at church. I want to ask them, “Do you know where you are?”

And I am still surprised when I see tattoos in church, though I shouldn’t be. I do, however believe in drums, and guitars and raising my hands and laughing in church.

After all, if being saved from hell and living forever with Jesus isn’t a reason to rejoice, I don’t know what is.

Maybe I need to sit in the back of the church with Amy the organist.