Recovery

Never Too Many

I don’t remember when I wrote the above lines in my journal, but it is just as true today as when I wrote it. On any given day we are deluged with a cavalcade of words. It can be staggering. Too many. Our attention spans have shrunk. Our phones have taught us to measure information in snippets precisely because it’s a kind of survival. We can only handle or absorb so much. Should I add to the torrential flow? That’s what we deal with as writers. Can I add anything of value that hasn’t already been said?

I sense a whisper from the Holy Spirit saying, “How much is too much when you consider all that God has lavished on you?” Exactly. There are never too many words to describe how wonderful, how amazing is His love for us. It’s the balm that heals the soul when everything you see and hear in the world gets to be too much. If “the labor and heavy laden” describes you, He’s got you covered.

“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

He meets us where we are. In the days where nothing seems to come together. Or when you feel like there is a mushroom cloud of dread over your head and you have no idea why. Or when you suddenly want a glass of wine because that was your cure for many years, even though you already fought that battle and have won the victory in Jesus.

It was an off day yesterday, but today the tea is comforting, I found a book I wanted at the library, and my sense of well-being is intact again. Also, the first of the winter birds were back at the feeder this morning. The gray tide of unrest has receded until next time. Living this side of Heaven, we can rest assured there will be a next time (but that’s okay) I will be ready. I have my Spiritual armor handy. This can be found in the book of Ephesians (6:14-17)

I have found a steady and true Joy ever since I have found that plumbing the depths of Scripture is not merely a discipline, but survival and a way of life. I heartily recommend a strong Bible study with someone who you know to have experience and gifted by the Holy Spirit to teach. This has been life changing, truly.

The weather is changing and it looks like we will be getting an actual Fall soon. The leaves are hinting about coming down, some are anxious to get it over with and are losing their grip already. Soon, they will be raining down and filling the streets, “Dirty nasty trees” Elaine calls them. She really liked how clean and orderly the desert was. I have to admit; it was clean looking. Cactus just pretty much stay cactus after all. Even those brilliant blooms make no mess in their wake. As I have found, every place has a distinct beauty all its own. I have to admit I do sometimes miss Arizona, the crisp brightness of it all, and those magnificent violent storms with their breathtaking skies. Here is one of those:

And to end today’s post, a restful bench I found on a road trip to Globe, Arizona. Until next time, may God fill you with His grace and peace……

We Miss you Charlie

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It’s been a year since Charlie Kirk was gunned down mercilessly. I remember so clearly that day. I remember I didn’t move my calendar off of September 10 for a long time. I didn’t just want to skip over it, business as usual. For it wasn’t and it still isn’t. What was his crime? Encouraging an open forum for any and all opinions, tossing shirts, giving away hats. Telling people who disagreed with him to “come to the front of the line.” He dared to stand up for Jesus, no matter your opinion of his politics. It seems it’s open season to kill those you disagree with.

I remember also the story of the preacher on the street corner, also shot in cold blood in Peoria, Arizona. You can read about it here. I think of the heroes of the Bible we have been studying all year. Truth has in fact been leading to a death sentence for a very long time, since just about all of the Old Testament Prophets, as well as Jesus early Apostles died martyrs’ deaths as well. 

It seems to me the world has gone even more off the rails. We’ve lost our collective minds. Now a woman has murdered her three children and it’s called into question whether she should be held accountable. It really doesn’t matter what we think. It always matters what God thinks. His Word is pretty clear on the matter. 

Just last night I was reading again how John the Baptist was thrown in prison (and ultimately killed) for telling Herod that he was sinning with his brother’s wife. So, not a new thing. Now, people don’t even want to be told the truth from the pulpit. Historically, that was the one place we could always hear the truth. But this should really be no surprise. The flip side of this is that when evil is exposed, righteousness shines all the brighter. And we are called to be salt and light in a dull and increasingly dark world. 

Now more than ever, we need to share Jesus to a world that needs Him more than ever. As Billy Graham used to say, “Now is the accepted time…” There are no guarantees that we will get another day, or another minute. And if I could only tell you one thing, I would tell you from my own life that whatever you lose or give up in this life, Jesus will fill up that empty space in ways you could never imagine.

Not long ago, the Bible once again came alive to me as it once did when I first became saved. A dear friend (click link to hear lectures) and Bible teacher flipped the switch via the Holy Spirit, during a Bible study on Corinthians and I began to really think about how I was living my life. After that, I said goodbye to a friend I thought I would have forever. This friend accompanied me for every celebration, holiday, evening, weekend, dinner out for years. That friend had a hold on me. I truly thought if I gave up that “friend” I would always feel a loss that couldn’t be replaced. The friend was alcohol, and I did love it. Absolutely. I was captured by the image of the writer with his glass of whiskey, clacking words to life on an old Smith Corona in a corner cafe. The whole fellowship of the thing that was drinking.

Now, I no longer have it in the house. I am just about living a life of sobriety though I do have a glass of wine from time to time with dinner out. I was never an alcoholic, but I can honestly say, it had a hold on my life like a millstone. I was at the very real place in my faith where I didn’t want anything to have a hold on me but Jesus.

All this to say that Jesus has replaced that old habit with his “Living Water” and I have never been more at peace or more joyful. And friends, whatever you are holding onto in this life (other than God) let it go. He will replace it with something so good, in fact He will replace it with Himself. It’s my new story and I will keep telling it as long as anyone will listen. God is SO good. Just give Him your one and precious life and see what He can do.

He will never disappoint you! In Jesus love, Lori

Be Grateful

In Prayer this morning I was reminded again that I have a heritage in the church that I am so grateful for. As far as I look back, I have memories of being with God’s people. Were they perfect? Not by a long shot, but in those hallowed whispered halls of quiet, I learned of God. I heard the stories of David, Samuel, Noah, so much so that they were not strangers to me. WOW, I grew up and realized that not everyone has that. I am SO grateful for every church that I attended, no matter the denomination, folks. Denominations, I believe, only seek to divide us, but we can glean what we can from them anyway if we are open to what God would teach us.

I was thinking what a wonderful thing that heritage is to pass on to the next generation. It only takes one generation to forget God entirely. I guess my point is, be grateful that you have any memories of church, however restrictive you think it was, you heard the Word spoke, and that will never move through your soul without lodging itself somewhere. That somewhere will come out when you least expect it in the words of an old hymn you thought you forgot about. Thank God that someone took you there. Maybe it was VBS where all you remember is gluing colored macaroni together to make a picture of Jesus. Thank God for it.

I remember, oh how I remember now, and I didn’t think much of it then. The rustling of choir robes right before the first note. The procession of the Cross and the Acolytes down the aisle in my short stint in the Episcopal church. Christmas programs and the brown paper sack filled with treats, and nervously trying to remember my verse when my turn came. The night my mom didn’t give in when I wanted to wear my ratty jeans to church. The large line waiting to see the very charismatic Pastor John at my aunts church. My Baptism and the way the white robe billowed around me, and proclaiming my faith at 13 barely knowing what that entailed. God chased me my whole life and now at (almost 66) I have entered an even deeper knowing of Him because a year or so ago, I realized that playing around with the world was not what I should do.

I am SO thankful today. God has been made real to me so many times in my life. Two very pronounced ways, once when I was healed of Anorexia, and once on a quiet foggy morning in an empty house near Christmas where I had an encounter with the Holy Spirit that I don’t talk about much and I will never forget. And now He has drawn near to me again, fulfilling His promise in James that says:

Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts, you double minded. James 4:8

And think about this, His Holy Spirit takes up residence inside us when we invite Him in. No matter how we have strayed or lost time, God is faithful. He won’t remind you of it, He will only welcome you back with open arms and redeem the years. That’s the kind of God we serve. I am so grateful for those Pastors and Teachers who speak the Word faithfully. Getting involved again with a Bible Study has been the best decision I have made. Listen to those wonderful sources that have the Living Water flowing through their veins. If you want to know what is going on in Israel today give these wonderful folks a listen here, and if you want sound Biblical teaching from a wonderful friend of mine go here

That is my offering today, folks. Have a blessed and peaceful weekend and remember, God is making all things new as we speak…..Where there is breath, there is hope.

Left at the Altar

(A writers lament)

In my mind I see an altar swept clean……I come before you Lord, waiting, wondering, why I find my altar stripped bare of words, bereft, swept clean. Maybe now I can write what is only for You. Maybe that’s what you wanted all along. I misplaced the words, but You can find them. Arrange them on Your altar of Holiness the way you want them, Lord. 

Fill the place in my soul that aches, tears that have dried up spring unbidden to my eyes as I acknowledge that place I remember. That calm before dawn where I sat with the cat in the swing. Nature calls but I hear traffic. Transform it Lord into something you can use. 

A Holy offering of love. I hear You say, “Those tears will do. “ Sometimes there is a Holy Gift exchange. I do believe that when we give something up here on earth, there is a rift in the clouds of Heaven. This is something I know. God has answered my prayer this year and I am eternally grateful. He has replaced my thirst for alcohol with thirst for the living water that never fails. 

I am the Samaritan woman at the well. Thank you, Jesus, that this well will never run dry. 

Oh God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Psalm 63: 1

We are all in recovery…..

“You can kiss your family and friends goodbye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world, but a world lives in you.” Frederick Buechner

Yes indeed, even if they are gone from this world. Recovery seems to be a big issue now, there are reams of writings and data, and the library is filled with books on how to stop one bad habit and replace it with something healthier. I wonder, did anyone even say the word a century ago? I think mostly they were too tired at the end of the day to even wonder about the word, let alone the actual thing itself. I think of my grandma and grandpa coming to California, starting over after leaving their farm, animals (some of whom they thought of as friends), not to mention their little girl’s grave. If anyone needed recovery, certainly they did. But they just buckled down, worked hard, learned English as their second language, and carried on. I have grown up listening to the stories.

And I am proud to carry some of their DNA. I wonder, how much of those experiences have carried down through me, buried in my own DNA. I like to think there is a strength I have borrowed from them. There are also other things floating around, the not so good things. On my paternal Grandparents side there was alcoholism. My Grandpa recovered, my grandmother did not. I carry some of that DNA as well. I have battled my own love of alcohol with several come to Jesus moments over the years. Counselors say that we need to know our weaknesses, keep a journal. Write down when you want to drink, get angry, eat compulsively. I know one thing, addictions can kill body, mind and soul. They want to obliterate the best that God wants you to be. Paul says this:

O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death? I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord. So then with the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin.” Romans 7:24,25 KJB

So, we are terminally ill without Jesus. You can read all the self-help books you want; and sometimes they do have their place but ultimately, they turn your mind inward and get you to focus more on yourself. What we need is something bigger than ourselves. I concede with the Apostle Paul that unless I have Jesus, who is the only one who truly never gave into temptation, I have limited success in this life and none in the next.

I am one of those people to whom a party is not good news. I immediately stress out in mixed groups. If there was alcohol served, I was slightly relieved. Then I made sure to have a drink before I left for good measure. Now, thanks be to Jesus, I still get anxious, but I pray instead.

As I do most times, before I got to sleep last night, I thanked God for the roof over my head and thought of those nearly under the freeway sleeping in the dirt in the midst of their own garbage. It’s epidemic here in California. It’s so easy to play the us versus them game. I am guilty of that. I wonder why able-bodied young men choose the streets and addiction rather than just getting a job. “But God,” I prayed, “Help me to not see them as just the sum of their parts. Not just people who steal and throw garbage everywhere, but people that have gone wrong.

Just like I’ve gone wrong so many times in my life. Just like we’ve all gone wrong. It would be so tragic is there was no remedy. But there is:

Hand Jesus your life. You will never regret it. Trade the band aid for the Cure. It’s not easy, but its effects have immediate and eternal ramifications. Message me if you want to know how. Believe me, I’ve been there.

“But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:57 NLT

Walking Dust

“My hope is in what the eye has never seen. Therefore, let me not trust in visible rewards. Let my trust be in Your mercy, not in myself. Let my hope be in Your love, not in health, or strength, or ability, or human resources.” Thomas Merton

Ash Wednesday reminds us of our universal frailty. At lease it should. We are all just walking dust, after all. Our waking lives are filled with equal measure of it. Frailty, that is. Being human means that in every given moment we can simultaneously feel “blessed” or “stressed” beyond measure. Haven’t we all felt that shadow of “dread” that can come upon us even when things are going well? It’s like the feeling of falling mentally. For those of us who feel the very real feelings of social anxiety it’s kind of a normal state of mind. It can be considered a weakness, but for me, it amplifies my dependance on God. I guess that’s kind of what the Apostle Paul felt about his particular “weakness.”

The Bible doesn’t say what that weakness is, but it’s been fodder for speculation in many discussions and Bible studies. Going back to Ash Wednesday, I like the tradition of wearing the ashes outwardly, although I have never actually gone to a church that supplies them for application. Most Protestant Churches don’t offer them, but maybe they should. I tend to wear mine on the inside.

I have recently had my anxieties amplified by going without alcohol for 30 days. It’s a bit like having the band-aid ripped off the rough edges of life. It was something I felt I needed to do for a time, after being prompted by lots of introspection (and prayer) brought about by the Bible study I started earlier this year. It was hard. Day 3, I was wondering if I could actually pull it off. A genetic predisposition of Alcoholism ran from both Grandparents on my dad’s side. My Grandmother died at a young age resulting from a love of the bottle, and my grandpa quit after being given an ultimatum by his second wife. It was a deal breaker, and he quit forever, to his credit.

It skipped a generation and landed on and my brother and me. We both shared a love of drinking. My brother died unexpectedly in 2023 as a result of many health issues, some of them accelerated by excessive drinking. So, this has become a part of my journey at this (late) time in my life. Better late than never, I guess. It was time. One my own personal thorns of the flesh that needed to be put to death. We are all in good company. Even the Apostle Paul wasn’t exempt.

As Paul said of his personal “thorn in the flesh”:

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Cor. 12: 7-9

So, this can be encouraging, whatever your weaknesses are. No one gets out of this life alive. But as Christians, even in the midst of our “ashes” we can be encouraged. For when we are weak, Christ’s resurrection power rests on us! I don’t know about you, but as I get older, I am more confronted with more and more weakness.

Today, I wear my ashes inside, carrying about the dust of immortality. Always, carrying about in my flesh the knowledge of how close I came to the licking flames of hell, but also knowing I have escaped it only because of the Cross and the terrible road Jesus walked for me.

This my friends, is cause for celebration. Easter is coming. And in the midst of this life, we can have joy unspeakable and full of glory!

Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and though you do not even see Him now, you believe and trust in Him and you greatly rejoice and delight with inexpressible and glorious joy, 1 Peter 1:8

This Pandemic

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At first it was kind of like a snow day. A little euphoria, our Spring break extended. School was put off, then cancelled for the rest of the year. It felt like a small taste of retirement. Hey, I had free time to do all the things I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. And books. I had books. Then the library closed. And our favorite places of business. The sidewalks emptied. And people got this virus here in the States and some died. It got more real.

Time stretched on, and I discovered to my surprise that I really liked Suduko. Easter came and went and it was nothing like any Easter we ever had, because there wasn’t one. Of course in the biggest sense there was. And maybe because of the way the world  was this year, the Resurrection felt even more meaningful because the life as we all knew it here had kind of died.

One day we found ourselves in an unbelievably long line (seniors only) at Costco. People pushed their carts Zombie- like, masked and unmasked alike. The line undulated like a snake around and around the parking lot. We all shuffled along looking a little bewildered. We got behind a talker in a tank top, adjusting his mask between words all through the line.

I think it was around day 28 of lockdown that it all came crashing in for me. A kind of bleak despair. It stopped being fun many days ago. The endless rules, and the endless news. The not knowing what or who to believe. As someone who is a bit on the antisocial spectrum of reclusiveness anyway this was coming too naturally for me and I didn’t want to surrender to it.

I can’t help wondering how many families and businesses will still be intact when this is all a memory? I hope and pray they will come back stronger than ever. As for me, I’m ready for open signs and full parking lots. I’m ready to actually go to church (maybe without the shaking hand part.)

Despite all this, there has been good. I think we have remembered how to be kinder and help each other out like good neighbors used to. Trips to the grocery store for those home bound have turned into reconnaissance missions.  Just taking a short drive has felt like being sprung from prison or military leave.

Something of this time I hope will remain. The forbidden luxury of hugs and closeness that I don’t want to take for granted anymore. The rhythm that is life has slowed for us all and that’s a good thing. But while slowing is good, stopping is not.

It’s time to get back to business because this is hurting us in more ways than one. Americans were meant to thrive, it’s what we were built on. So let’s wear our masks, wash our hands, and get to work. It’s time. Quarantine the ones who are sick and let the rest of us live.

Let freedom ring again.

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This is the mysterious thing about prayer.  It often happens even when you’re not intentionally trying to pray. It’s like riding a bike. If you thought about everything that goes into it you would probably not get yourself down the road. It’s like the other morning, wide awake at 2:00 AM. “I should pray,” I thought. “Why can’t I be more like those “Holy” people who get up and pray and seek God in the middle of the night instead of finding something to eat or drink or read?”

And this is the crazy thing. I got up and started talking to God about just that. Sometimes the best prayer sessions start when you’re not even trying. You’re just talking to the God who created you. Who knows us better than we know ourselves.

It’s reawakening to the knowledge that as believers, we stand saturated by Grace.  And that Grace never leaves us. Not even when we feel undeserving of it. We know we are undeserving and that leaves us breathless with thanksgiving once again.

This is the intimacy the Psalmists knew:

In the morning O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.” Psalm 5:3

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.” Psalm 13:5

For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling.” Psalm 116:8

And my favorite:

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thought from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down. You are familiar with ALL my ways. Psalm 139:1-3

I like to think prayer is what happens while we’re making plans to pray. You don’t have to have just the right setting or the right moment. The time is right now, today. In every moment; every time we thank Him for the weather, the birds, our health. Prayer is giving words to our very breath, as Acts 17 says: “In Him we live and move and have our being.”

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted and it feels good. If I can only move one person closer to knowing God with my words, then it’s all worth it.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

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Everyone knows me knows that I have a long running vendetta against spiders, (except Charlotte). The first time I read Charlotte’s Web was the first time ever I was exposed to a heroine that was a creature that I had loathed all my young life. And I saw her as pretty with eyelashes, that’s how the artists portrayed her anyway. As the story unfolded I saw Charlotte as good, saw her spinning away prettily in her web the words that would save Wilbur.

This one was small, almost microscopically as he brazenly walked across my robe. I must have collected him (or her) outside and they hitched a ride. Because it was so small I deemed it worth saving. What is it about something shrunk down to a minimal size that renders it helpless. Had it been enlarged by about 10 times I would have called for its destruction in haste. But it was so small, and so vulnerable.

It was trying to spin a little web, away out of its trouble maybe. Maybe it sensed disaster looming. It sunk down into my pocket and I tried to get it to attach itself to the Kleenex I offered as a lifeline. No go. Then I got a straw and poked it down towards it and it climbed aboard. Victory!

I took it outside where I thought it might flourish, left it on the tomato plant outside. I felt I had done what God would have me do. I guess maybe I felt like maybe He feels about us. My heart was moved by a creature so small that it needed my help to get it back to where it truly belonged.

I don’t know about you but I need help each and every day to get back to where I once belonged. In my heart, in my soul, in my mind. All of us feels the loneliness that rocks us to the core at times. It’s the inborn sense that things just aren’t right and we need Someone bigger to reach down and help restore that feeling that we are truly on our way Home. Or at the very least, stumbling in the right direction.

You see, no matter how shattered we may feel today, God is in the process of making all things new. We serve a God of restoration. Everything we are going through right now will someday make sense. In the forest of Mirkwood it’s so dark you can’t see the sky but that doesn’t mean the sky isn’t there. (Read Chapter 8 of the Hobbit) It is, you just have to climb a little higher to see it. Look up my friends. Look for the shaft of light in your particular forest today. It’s Hope, and it’s always there. He’s always there.

Problems, like spiders,  can all be shrunk down to minimal size in the light of God’s Presence in our lives. He is in the process of putting all the pieces back together again. Everything in this whole crazy mixed up, messed up world. That includes me and you and everyone we care about.

The Writing in the Sand

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Where are your accusers? That was the question Jesus asked the woman who was caught in adultery. I’ve wondered all kinds of things when I’ve read and reread this story. This time it became more alive to me. I could see Jesus there……hear the stones thudding against the ground……..one, then one after another. I saw the dust fly up in my mind when they hit. I put myself in the woman’s place. I wondered where the man was?

We wonder don’t we, what Jesus wrote in the dirt. He did it twice kind of bending down almost as if He was pretending He didn’t hear the question. We’ve all done this from time to time. Someone asks you something and you don’t want to answer right away or maybe at all. You look off into the distance, look down at your hands…..sigh heavily. I think maybe Jesus did sigh heavily as He stared at the ground and moved his finger through the dust.

Where are you today? What guilt are you dragging around that you long to let go of? Where do you fall short in your accusers eyes and who are they? Is it a parent? An adult child? Yourself? The Church? A world that has dashed you into the rocks one too many times, one too many waves of grief……pain……loss.

The week is over and where are your accusers? Maybe it’s you telling yourself how you just don’t measure up against some standard you put on yourself. God doesn’t see us as failed experiments, friend, and neither should you. If it was you they dragged in front of Jesus that day with their fingers of blame the result would be the same.

The writing in the dirt, that line in the sand is for all of us who fall short, and we all do, everyday. Romans 3:23 kind of gives me hope: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

Maybe on this Mother’s Day you are remembering a Mom who made you feel like you never measured up. Maybe you aren’t a Mom and others made you feel less than because of it. Maybe they even made you feel that because you never were a parent you don’t have the capacity to love fully. Don’t let that lie sink in. The stones of your accusers are falling like rain.

Here is a truth: there is a little mother in all of us. It’s how we’re designed. We are made in the very image of Who birthed the world itself. That is not to minimize the importance of good Mothers everywhere, but to bring us all up to where and how God sees us as individuals.

Embrace this simple truth today: “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” It’s a good day to be released today. To forgive and be forgiven. The air of freedom is there. Take a deep breath and remember that there is room at the base of the cross for all.

But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” Isaiah 53:5-6