There remains a Sabbath rest……….

“There remains therefore a Sabbath rest for the people of God. For the One who has entered His rest has Himself also rested from His works, as God did from His.” Hebrews 4:9,10

The chair creaked as I settled into it in the dim light of early morning. The first line of my prayer was a grateful sigh. There are times when sighs can be prayers. The end of the week once more and I wondered again at how I got here so fast. Settling into sabbath…..I gazed down the trail of years, wondered and wandered along the halls of my memories.

As I wandered, images and sounds came softly, floating over and through and then emotions along with them following close behind. “A Mighty Fortress” was the theme song of the little claymation cartoon I used to watch on Sunday mornings before church, Davy and Goliath.

I hear the echo of our voices in the upper room where we had children’s church and then after, Sunday lunch at Helwigs, Chicken on a Bun. And my Grandma sighing out loud and crinkling her Reeds wrappers while the Pastor is speaking, and my Mom being so embarrassed.

I remembered the way the light slanted the shadows as we walked to Sunday evening service on warm summer nights. And there was choir practice and the rustle of robes coming off hangers and the silence right after we all stood as one and waited for those first notes from the piano.

Service upon service……all through the years. All through the denominations, each one I loved in different ways. I hear the rustling of onion-skin pages as we all found our places as one. I find myself sometimes missing those days before iPads and iPhones in church.

As the candle flickers in the corner, these are the Holy gifts I unwrap one by one.

And someday, I will unwrap these days too.

This is Sabbath rest right here and now.

Spiritual Misfit (no book giveaway, I’m keeping mine thank you!)

After all, that’s what grace is, isn’t it? The ultimate do-over. The infinite second chance. God gives us another chance, and another and another. Day in and day out. He works with us, he works through us, he does not give up on us. Michelle DeRusha

Michelle DeRusha dared to ask one question and it turns out that one question, “Why Not Believe?” was all God needed to crack a window of hope in her soul and launch her on a spiritual quest that ultimately found her surrounded by God’s love and grace.

I was deeply touched by the humility, honesty and laugh out loud humor that I found on every page of this book. If I ever met Michelle personally, I would want to hug her just for the Cheezit story alone!

Growing up Protestant in the Evangelical Church of the 1970’s Jesus Generation, my experiences were a bit different from Michelle’s. God was not distant for me, in fact He seemed to be everywhere I turned. You might not think of California as having its own Bible Belt, but it did. In my hometown there was just about a church on every corner and we went every Sunday, sometimes Sunday nights as well. I have early memories of talking to God like some kids talk to imaginary friends. I even had a glow in the dark plastic Jesus that I kept on my windowsill. There was something reassuring about that florescent glow.

I honestly don’t remember a time in my life when I had a serious doubt about whether God existed or if He heard my prayers. I also know that it’s nothing short of a miracle of His grace, surely not as a result of anything I ever did right. My doubts came cloaked in the form of fear. Fear of what would happen if I really let go and let God. I was the kid clinging to the side of the swimming pool even as my Dad held out his arms saying, “I am here to catch you, just let go!”

The church I grew up in was a bit on the restrictive side. Deep down, I always felt like I didn’t quite fit with what I perceived to be the “Baptist Mold” I saw others conforming to. I didn’t go to Church camp because secretly, I was afraid. In my head there was this social performance meter going on and I was convinced that if I went, I would fail some sort of test. I might have really enjoyed it, but now I will never know.

Every now and then, I went to certain “youth gatherings” and I always dreaded when the awful games would start. The ones that were supposed to be fun. I will never forget the one where we all lined up, boy-girl-boy-girl each with a tooth-pick between our trembling lips, passing life-savers from mouth to mouth. I was mortified. To a girl who was extremely self-conscious about her bad complexion it was traumatic. The life-saver was red, even all these years later I still remember that, and that the boy’s shaky upper lip was covered in blond whiskers.

The Pastor of our church didn’t believe in clapping or applause after a good musical performance, or talk, or anything, and the older members clearly were not comfortable with any of the new modern translations of the Bible, for them Jesus spoke in the King James version only. I do believe if He had shown up in the middle of our service, they would have wanted Him to shower, shave and change into a suit.

What I loved most about Spiritual Misfit, is the way Michelle relates the story. I felt like I was right there with her on the plains of Nebraska, and in seeing her, I recognized myself. I saw again how He blesses us when we are not afraid to ask Him the questions, when we crack the door of our heart open just enough. Just enough, is all He needs. Augustine said that to search for God is to have found God. I think there is some truth to that.

It goes without saying that I heartily recommend this book. As I finished, I found myself kneeling by my bedside in tears, wrapped in His grace, I thanked Him for being with me on my own journey and for being with Michelle on hers. I thought of all the times I have failed Him, stumbled, fallen, left the trail, flailed in the middle of the pool, only to see Him right there waiting where I left off.

And with a smile and an arm around my shoulders, He says, “Welcome back my child,” And we set out again.

Jesus with a cane

“Let’s turn down this street,” she said, “I want to show you someone’s house and I won’t even have to tell you which one it is.” First of all, I need to preface this by saying the lady is of German descent. Now, I was raised in a town pretty made up of Germans from North Dakota and one of their characteristics was extreme cleanliness. In the days before all the water restrictions they would hose their driveways and sidewalks until they glistened. That goes for the garage too. I am pretty sure some of these people watched out the window for stray leaves that never had a chance to land on the perfectly sculpted lawns.

Anyway, I digress and she was right. I picked out the house right away. Nary a rock out-of-place. (Not many lawns here)

On the way home, we passed a man leaning on a cane talking on a cell phone. Before I go any further, I must tell you that my friend is like a dolphin when it comes to finding people who need help. She has a built-in radar for people and situations that others just never take the time to see. I can’t tell you how many times we have been to the store and she asks me, “Did you see that lady? She looks confused, I think she might have lost her car.”

My answer is usually, “Let’s do another loop around the lot. We’ll see if she finds it, or him, or whatever it is she lost.”

So last night she said, “Should I ask him if he’s alright?” I said, “Well, he was talking to someone on a cell phone.” We drove back by and she asked him if he was okay. He said, “Well, I was trying to decide whether to go to Home Depot, I have something I need to fix on my house. I am okay right now.”

She drove off, but uneasily. By this time it was getting dark, and me, the ever observant one, was still not getting why she was so conflicted about leaving. After all, he had a cell phone and we could hear the other person talking to him. As we drove down the road a ways, she said, “That street is no place for a blind person to be after dark.”

Me: “He’s BLIND???”

Her: “Yeaaaaa. That’s what the white cane with the red tip means.”

Me: “Ohhhhhh, no wonder you were worried!”

Her: “Did you think I was just stalking him?”

Then it struck us funny. By this time, he was tap, tap, tapping down Broadway at a pretty good clip. I had looked up the non-emergency police number and the dispatcher said they would send someone right out. We sat at a stop sign while we waited, holding our breath at the light while he crossed. Around 6 minutes later the police came and pulled over next to him. We watched as the cop helped the man into the back seat.

We proceeded to follow them to Wal-Mart where we stopped to talk to the patrolman that picked him up. He was very nice and explained that the guy wanted to buy some door-knobs for his house which he was trying to fix up. And he thanked us for calling them.

As we drove off, we wondered out loud how someone blind would go about repairs on a house.

She said, “What if that man were Jesus?”

I said, “That means that I flunked the test and you passed.”

She said, “No, you passed too because you did the right thing, that is after you figured out he was blind.”

Personally, I think she is cutting me some slack there, I should have noticed right away that he was blind, except my stomach was growling and my mind was fixated on the fish tacos waiting at home.

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

When you don’t fit in and it’s okay

I grew up in a church that was somewhat legalistic. I didn’t think much of it until the first time I went to an Assembly of God church where people clapped and raised their hands, and not just shoulder height, all the way up! It was like a whole new world opened up to me. You see, in our church we weren’t even encouraged to clap. I am not sure what’s wrong with clapping. Maybe they thought it would lead to other outward expressions and then God forbid where would you draw the line? There has to be some control after all. Otherwise you might have people jumping over pews and rolling in the aisles.

I say that tongue in cheek, but looking back I always felt somewhat restricted there. One false move and you might be visited by two men in dark suits. I will never forget the time we had an outstanding musical performance and someone must have forgotten the rule because there was a burst of applause. It started strong, but then the Pastor raised his hand in admonition……”No, no clapping please.” The people (us) being properly chastened, it quickly died down.

I remember never quite fitting in. Don’t get me wrong. I have many good memories of church and I am thankful, so thankful my Mom insisted we go. I have to say, I got a wonderful Scriptural foundational knowledge there. People that love the Lord with all their hearts still go there. And yet, when I got out. I remember feeling a profound sense of freedom that I had never had before and it was a little bit of Heaven.

My joy was no longer contained……I felt like a balloon taking flight for the first time. I could feel totally comfortable lifting my hands to the sky, or equally comfortable going down to the altar and planting my face to the indoor outdoor carpeted step. I finally felt I could express my joy over being forgiven, being redeemed properly.

I have taken part in all different types of church services, and I am glad I have. I consider myself bit of a church mutt. I have been immersed in liturgy and felt extremely moved by its beauty. I have been to services where people felt totally free to kick off their shoes and dance in the aisle. And what I have come away with is this:

There is no right way or wrong way to praise God and as soon as you start making people believe they have to do worship a certain way, then you are excluding those who don’t quite fit your mold.

There is room, my friends. Room for all of our individuality at the Cross. And as long a congregation is true to Scripture, it’s all good. Just because I lift my hands in church doesn’t mean someone else has to. Their hearts might be bursting with praise within. God knows hearts. He knows each thought, each feeling, He hears whispered praise as well as praise that shouts to the sky.

He is big enough to contain it all.

Hope with a big “H”

We sat there, all of us potential jurors. There were about 100 of us who drew the short straws, whose group was not ticked off the list. I sat with my Kleenex and stuffy nose and heard others hack and cough. There was one loud talker, as it seems there always is. He sat in the front row and we heard his whole life story told to the hapless man next to him. Maybe it started with a comment, and that was all it took to throw open the gateway of conversation, albeit one-sided. But that was okay, he gave us all something to listen to as the minutes ticked by.

The clerk came in and we all watched a video about what an honor it is to serve on a jury. And really, it is. And yes, I do take it for granted. We all do. I complained about going, I got up early on my day off. I put makeup on, selected a nice outfit and drove the 30 minutes to a small town east of me. A depressing town, really. The main source of work are the several prisons there. Yet on the perimeter of my heart the question taunted me, haunted me really. What if it was someone I loved on trail? What if it was me? What if there were no one to stand for you? What if you were innocent? What if you weren’t?

When we finally got up to the courtroom they began the selection process. One by one names were called. Down to the last 26. I wasn’t among them. The rest of us sighed almost collectively when the last name was called. Now began the questions. We weren’t off the hook yet. We all sat through several rounds of questions given to the 26 selected. A few were eliminated, so three more names were called from our group to replace them. Still wasn’t me.

Then came questions from prosecution……then defense.

We heard stories, lots of them from the prospective jurors. Things came out. One woman found it hard to talk when she was asked if she had ever known anyone personally who had been arrested. She had to put a restraining order out on her abusive husband. And he came for her and held her at gunpoint. The SWAT team had to be called. I could tell it all came back to her…….all that heartache.

What I came away with was this:

All this procedure for a theft. And yes, it is right. It is just. It is how we do things in our country. It’s how we do justice.

But for many in other countries, and this one too, there is no justice at all. I am thinking about the African Bloggers today. I am thinking of the things they have seen over there. The people they have met. Where is the justice for all those children who have no parents. Who stood for them when their parents were mercilessly killed? Who stands for them now? Where is the justice for the 1,000,000 who were murdered? Who will stand up for them? Well, I can tell you there are people who stand for them now, who want to make a difference, who are making a difference. Read about one such group right here. Read all their updates, I know you will be moved.

Someone has given these precious children in Africa Hope. Hope with a big “H.” For the first time in their lives, they have a heritage. They have a family.They know that someone cares very much what happened to their parents, for He was watching, and He will never forget. And when He hands out justice, it will be swift. It will be right. It will be final.

Someone is also giving them Hope so they in turn can give that Hope to others. Now they know they have a Dad who is so big that He can swallow up all the sorrow they ever held. For good.

There are all kinds of unfair things that happen everyday. Maybe you are one to whom life has been very unfair. I can tell you one thing that will make a big difference if you accept it. There was one very unfair thing that happened around 2000 years ago. The King of Kings willingly died a criminal death. He was put on a trial that wasn’t even a real trial. There was no jury selection of His peers. You would have had to call down Angels for that. Yes, God Himself was there, and the Holy Spirit was uttering the few Words He would say then. But no words could have ever saved Him.

He died so that we might have the justice that we don’t deserve. He died and rose again so that we might receive new life and a new heritage. And life with Him forever for in a perfect world, a world very unlike this one. Read Romans 5:6-10

Amidst the turbulence and heartache everywhere, there is One who embodies Hope. That’s our story, that’s our message. Blogging and writing is our way of holding up the light of Jesus to a weary world who needs Him more than ever.

Bring Him into your daily mess. Nothing scares Him.

Photo source: http://worldhelp.net/missionaries-build-cathedrals-not-strip-malls/

Just As I Am……

“How then will they call on Him in whom they have not believed? How will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher?” Romans 10:14

I felt like I was time-traveling as I sat and watched the recent Billy Graham telecast, My Hope. It was that voice that brought it all back. Suddenly it was the 1970’s again, and I was in my early teens. Somewhere out there were still hippies and leftover flower children. Nixon might have declared the war in Vietnam over, but it still went on, over there and over here. But I was young and times were simple, peaceful in the evangelical world I grew up in.

The seventies brought modern translations of the Bible like “The “Good News for Modern Man” and the revolutionary,”The Way.” The old guard at my Baptist church didn’t approve. According to them, only the King James version was acceptible to God. And Jesus wore pin-striped suits. Yeah.

Those were the years of “Campus Crusade for Christ” and “Up with People”

We read spellbound about how gang member Nicky Cruz was brought to Christ by David Wilkerson’s fearless witness.

The Hiding Place movie came out, the story of what happened to Corrie Ten Boom’s family during the Holocaust.

And I am sitting in my Grandma’s warm kitchen watching the ORU singing group, the World Action Singers on her black and white set. She had an open line to the Prayer Tower and she was fond of both Oral Roberts and Ronald Reagan. Their pictures were scotch-taped in strategic places on her walls. In her broken German accent she could never master Oral’s name, instead it came out something like “Earlen B. Robbins.”

We watched Billy Graham crusades every time they came on TV.

I remembered the line he always said right before he gave the invitation to do that something bold.

That something bold was to step out of your seat and make your way to the aisle to start that trembling, wobbly, floating on your feet walk down the aisle to make a public declaration of your faith.

His message has never varied, it was always and only the Cross. Billy saw no need to fancy it up, to change with the times because he knew its message is timeless.

It’s what was known as the Altar Call. Some churches still have them. I remember the line from every crusade I ever watched. What Billy always said was, “Everyone that Jesus called he called publicly.” He always said it with a grand sweep of his arm as only he could say it.

Once, Billy Graham’s team came to my hometown and held a crusade at our festival grounds. He wasn’t there but another speaker was. All these years later I can still see his face, Lane Adams was his name. I knew by the end of that crusade that I would make that walk down my own church aisle the next Sunday.

I was fourteen and It was the best decision I ever made.

Then there was the time we all went to an actual crusade. I will never forget it. It was a hot, sweltering night in California’s beautiful capital city of Sacramento. We had to walk for what seemed like miles.

And I saw him from far, far away, and heard him speak. And it was powerful. A singer sang that night and I remember thinking, who is that girl and why does she have two first names? The singer was a young Sandy Patti. She was unknown then, but she went on to win Grammy’s and Dove awards. And she still has one of the finest voices you will ever hear.

And then Billy’s closing statements, and there was a hush as people fidgeted in the heat, shifting positions. And then the opening bar of “Just As I Am……” I can still hear the rustling of all that movement. A sea of people rose from all directions and just kept coming. It seemed there might be more up front than out in the crowd. I’ll never forget it.

My last church had an altar call, but I haven’t been to a service where they had one in a long while. Now it’s the declaration of “eyes closed, and heads bowed and a wave of the hand.” Somehow that doesn’t work for me. It’s just not the same. To me, it’s the most Holy moment of church and it brings us all closer together.

For how can we celebrate as a church family if we don’t even know it happened?

How can we acknowledge it when it happens behind closed doors?

For everyone Jesus called, He called publicly.

And He said unto them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Matthew 4:19

Church on the Mountain

“And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.” Matthew 26:27-29

“I have an idea!” She said. “Let’s have church on the mountain tomorrow.”

“Excellent!” I said…….”Let’s do it, and we’ll have communion up there too!”

When you are between churches like we are right now, sometimes you have to be creative, leave a little room for the Spirit to work. So this morning, I packed it all together in my camera bag. Cranberry juice and oyster crackers stood in place of the bread and wine.

On the way up the trail, nestled in my bag, I heard them clink together softly and I smiled to myself.

Jesus and I had a secret.

I paused by a Joshua Tree, remembering the words I had read earlier that morning about how they pushed the cruel crown of thorns down on His brow until it bled in rivers down His face. God’s face.

As we got to the top, I paused to let a family come down. Their two little boys were very loud and I was ready for the quiet, for the moment to pause and remember. I waited for E to join me. She had to backtrack because she was talking to a lady hiking with her dog and got side-tracked and missed the turn for Huff and Puff.

We scrambled over rocks and carefully picked our way to the top and I jostled around looking for a flat place to set up. As I presented the heart-shaped doily and stemmed glasses, she laughed. “I should have known!”

Nothing is too good for Jesus, after all.

It was a bit windy, so she held onto the glasses while I aimed for the shot. This was our view.

While they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after a blessing, He broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is My body.” Matthew 26:26

There on the mountain, we each settled with our elements in hand, having lost only a little a splash of juice and a few crackers that had rolled down the mountain. I didn’t even need to find the verses in my iPhone because the words were already in her heart, and they sprang free, flowing out like rivers of living water as she lifted her glass:

The words come naturally to one whose life has truly been changed. No rehearsal is necessary.

“Do this,” He said. “As a remembrance.”

The lady on the trail had asked if we were sisters. E told her yes, sisters of the best possible kind.

Soul sisters. Kindred spirits. Sisters of the heart. Sisters in Christ.

“For where two or three gather together as my followers,I am there among them.” Matthew 18:20

When you no longer recognize your church

It is a relatively modern phenomenon. One church, several locations.
Here’s how it works. It runs a bit like a corporation; with one main Pastor or CEO who runs the show and several co-Pastors who man their individual “Campuses.”

The way it happened in my last church was that our Pastor retired and another Pastor came in, one who already had a church in a neighboring town. All of a sudden we had a real live Pastor twice a month. The other time we saw him via a video feed speaking from the other campus.

The first time we went, it was so slick and polished and coordinated and pre-packaged…….and fast, we wondered if we had actually just attended church. Instead of speed dating, we were speed churching. It was like church drive-by.

We left. There was no more spontaneity, no more prayer for needs in the service, no more holiness. More than anything, I didn’t feel the Holy Spirit there anymore. It was like he packed up and moved out.

It’s really hard to get God to work in a constrained and prepackaged formula. The Holy Spirit needs room to breathe, room to work in and through His people. He doesn’t stay where He isn’t welcome.

Now it has happened again. Our church building was sold out from under us by the developer and almost overnight, we had to find a new home. The church that was interested in buying it backed out when they found out we didn’t even have a clue the building was up for sale. It was a bad deal all around.

Another Pastor who already had three “campuses” in other towns, offered to let us continue, but under his church name, and as part of his church organization. We were now the East Valley branch.

There is only one problem with it. We are unrecognizable from what we were before. We are them now, which to some people is just wonderful. Our Pastor is still the Pastor, sort of, but he doesn’t speak, he just introduces the other “hosting Pastor” who does his talk via video. I assume he will get a “turn.”

So this past Sunday was our make or break Sunday. Will we stay or leave. And we decided we will leave.

I think it is safe to say that we had both already decided when we heard a song by Stevie Wonder filtering into the church coming from the stage where we used to hear praise music. Nothing against Stevie Wonder, I love his music, just not to open a church service.

And when we saw the flat screens projecting, not church messages, but football scores, and an actual game, I got a vision of Jesus and the money changers in the Temple. I pictured him with a baseball bat bashing out the screens. This is the question that has haunted me ever since.

Have we gotten to the point where we really want more world in the church instead of more church in the world?

And someone kidnapped our outstanding music group with another guy who smiled a little too much and sang every song in a monotone. Elaine leaned over and whispered that “all that was missing was the mosh pit.”

Communion is also done differently than any church I have ever attended and I have attended a lot, in just about every denomination. The plate is passed and you eat and drink the elements right then before you pass them on.

It’s craziness. People trying to pass and balance, hurry and not spill looked more like people doing oyster shooters and shots of vodka than communion. By that time my sense of humor either saved me or failed me, whichever way you want to look at it. I had to bite the sides of my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Where is the holiness, where is the reflective pause? Where is the feeling of community where we all gathered at the table and received it together.

Am I missing something?

The “talk” was short, and meatless. I felt more like I had just been to family counseling session than church. He had some very good points, and he smiled at the right times, and looked sympathetic and humble at the right times. He spoke like he has been through the Dale Carnegie school of public speaking…….more than once.

And again. There was no “altar call” and if that is just too evangelical for you, no time for “a decision.”

We will be looking for a new place of worship, needless to say.

And it makes me sad that once again, we have to do this. But do this we will. Because I believe in the church more than ever. Both as a body of believers and as an actual place to go.

I don’t need it relevant.

I need it real, and full of Jesus and some imperfection please.

If anyone is reading this and loves all the changes taking place, please don’t be offended. These are my thoughts and mine alone. I am sure the Pastors and staff are all wonderful people and want to do what is good for the community and are following their hearts. There is always the possibility that I am way off base with my synopsis of the way things are. I am by no means any kind of spiritual health meter of churches.

And yet, when it’s all said and done, each of us has to go where we are fed.

And my prayers, you can be assured, are with you always.

I would be interested in comments. Has anyone had similar experiences?

Our hope is in the Lord

After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight. They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.” Acts 1:11

I barely watch the news anymore. And the opening MSN page that I hastily retreat from on my way to Facebook? I barely give it a glance. I don’t care about the Kardashian’s latest escapade, or what happened to Lindsey Lohan’s Mom. I scan the headlines to see if there is something I really need to know. I put my foot in the pond of world events and stay there long enough to know what is going on and then I get out. Looking around at our world today, it would be easy to cave in, to despair. To forget that there is still so much good.

I got to prayer late this morning. I allowed myself the luxury of going back to bed. Not to sleep, to read. I grabbed my cup of coffee and propped myself up on my pillows with two cats settled on either side and read all the way through to the end of “Odd Hours,” the fourth installment of the Odd Thomas book series by Dean Koontz. I felt the pressures of the week closing in and I wanted to close them out. I wanted to beat back time. I needed fiction. I needed to know that the terrible events happening in the book were just that, fiction. And that just maybe I would get a happy ending out of it.

I wasn’t disappointed. The bad guys died. Every single one. I needed that. I wanted to close the book and feel some relief that things are not nearly as bad in the world as the events in the book I just read.

Because all too often in real life the bad guys don’t die, or get caught, they thrive. They prey, they get away with murder. They steal from innocent people who are just trying to get through the day and keep what they worked so hard for. They show up at a Navy Yard and kill an innocent custodian among many others, who never failed to show up for work. He was only doing his job. Like they all were.

Soon, we will have Obama care going into effect. It is something rich people and the politicians who pushed it through will not have to worry about. They will all have their own plans. They will not be bowed down with extra taxes if they fail to commit to a government plan. It’s the working people who will. We will be punished if we don’t buy into it. None of us asked for it, but we are getting it just the same. I don’t usually comment on politics on my site, because my hope doesn’t lay in any politician or world leader. Thank God.

And today, it hit me like a thunderbolt as I was coming home. It’s like I really got it. I knew why the early persecuted church found so much comfort in each other.

Where there is more turmoil in the world, there should be more love, more strength, more unity in the church.

We need to be reminded that our hope is in Christ and there is nothing we need to dread as long as we keep our focus on Him. That’s pretty much what my devotional said today and I needed to hear it.

Here is the last paragraph:

You inhabit a fallen, disjointed world, where things are constantly unraveling around the edges. Only a vibrant relationship with Me can keep you from coming unraveled too. Jesus Calling, Sarah Young

May this give you hope today, it does me. There is so much good still in the world. As long as we keep our eyes on Him, He will bring those things into our path and we will once again be recharged, renewed, imbibed with hope.

“Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to render to every man according to what he has done. Revelation 22:12

Even as we are one

I remember a time.

before all the crap, all the baggage, all the pain that gets between us all……..

when we just held hands and felt nothing but God.

With lifted hands and eyes full of joy we sang choruses, I remember.

How we loved Him.

And oh how happy we were because we ran smack dab into Heaven and,

for just a moment, we knew what You meant

when You said that You wanted us to be one as You and Your Father were.

Why can’t we do it again?

Why can’t we do it now?

Let’s do it today.

My prayer that we could open our eyes and see, really see each other.

Not just mutter adlib an answer as we walk away

Forgive me when I give your precious words of diamonds and gold

no more than a cursory glance.

Let me not admire them inattentively then cast them aside

like just another pretty stone.

Let me hold your face in my hands and look into your soul

And really see where you have been.

Let me always see Jesus in your eyes.

Then……

Let us grab hands and travel this path together.

Both of us together……

All of us together. Side by side.

Toward Heaven.

I am praying not only for these disciples but also for all who will ever believe in me through their message. I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one—as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me.“I have given them the glory you gave me, so they may be one as we are one. I am in them and you are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me. John 17: 20-22

I believe that with everything going on in this world, that we need church unity more than ever before.

Let us hold each other close.

photo credit: creative commons some rights reserved: damselfly58

Lori's Prayer Closet

"And when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done is secret, will reward you……"Matthew 6:6

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