My life with the dog!

Some Past Posts

2010-11-20T05:01:00.000-08:00

For those of you who've been reading these posts it won't be a surprise that I've been on a journey of grief. A journey that instead of becoming easier to bear over time has strengthened it's hold on me.

I've felt punished, I've felt that I must have planted a bitter crop to be reaping the harvest I find myself reaping. I've felt depressed because it seems that God is hell bent on punishing me for something horrible I've done yet I have do idea what that was.

So I've been carrying this pain of constant loss, the pain of injustice, the pain of thinking that no one can or does understand what I feel, the pain when some well meaning people want to point out the reasons why it is "crazy" for me to feel the pain I feel and still be at this level of grief.

But where I believe that I've miss the mark the most is my need to focus on my pain, to allow it to burst forth a boiling cauldron of hot putrid acid. Spewing from my mind and hands in these blogged rants and raves. So, I've removed those past posts and today and perhaps only for today, I've decided to look forward with hope. To focus on good possibilities and to ask God to show me how He wants to use this situation, to mold me, to train me, to create or refine in me a specific character or pattern of behavior that He can use for His glory and for His Kingdom.

Judges 3:1-2 (NLT)
These are the nations that the Lord left in the land to test those Israelites who had not experienced the wars of Canaan. 2 He did this to teach warfare to generations of Israelites who had no experience in battle.

It’s not about punishment at all. For a more rounded focus, I have to read the entire Bible and stop taking the verses that have been misunderstood for generations out of contex and understand them in conjunction with His grace, His Word in it's entirety. To know that it's not God who brings bad things on me. But it is God who takes all situations and works them for my good and His Glory. That maybe it’s about discipline? One definition of discipline is; “Training expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior.”

Complicated Grief

2010-11-16T10:31:00.000-08:00

I found a term today that may describe me - but I'm not exactly sure. It's called complicated grief. The definition goes something like this; Complicated grief is unresolved grief that is a term used to describe a prolonged sense of mourning.

That pretty much sums it up for me right now doesn't it? Unresolved grief. Here's the problem, everything I read talks about helping the person get past the death of a loved one - helping them move through bereavement, mourn it out as it were, to get to place of health. Strangest thing though, I couldn't find anything telling me how to get past the type of loss that I am experiencing.

Recently I was praying and thinking that I don't ever want Andrew's mother to go through, to feel the things, that I am feeling. That I don't want her to have to reap what she is sewing and then it hit me.... What did I plant that the crop I'm reaping is so very bitter?

Jay's Tiny House Tour

2010-07-18T14:55:00.000-07:00

I'm Wanting Less

Lately I've been feeling burdened by things. The house, the extra set of dishes, my DVD collection (that I never watch), the refrigerator in the garage, the extra bedroom suite in the guest room, the closet full of close in the guest room I no longer wear and even by the kitchen table that is really too large for that space. Now this isn't the first time that I have had these type of feelings. I've given away an above ground pool with deck as well as offering up the hot tub and surprisingly I've never regretted those decisions. And the more I think about it the more attractive it becomes, the loosening and letting go of things. Because it seems that it's the "things" that tie me down and hold me back, that keep me imprisoned on the path of maintaining the "things."

So I'm not sure if makes sense or not, but I dreaming about Jay's Little Tumbleweed house and how liberating having one like it of my own would be.

Facades and Barriers

2010-06-25T06:04:00.000-07:00

Okay, let’s face it we are all flawed. In some way or the other - we have warts! I do find it amazing that we humans seem to think that our view is the “right” view and that everyone else is warped. Come on, you know that sometimes you think that way too.

Why is that I wonder? Now I know it’s probably not healthy to always be thinking that everyone else has it together, has it right, understands the world better, etc. than I do. But why do I (dare I say we?) so readily jump to the conclusion that we have it all together and that everyone else has it all wrong?

Have you ever known a person that when you first met them you thought of them one way, but once you’d taken the time to really get to know them, took the time to see beneath the surface, a completely different character was revealed than that first view? Their facade didn’t represent their core?

So let’s look at facades for a minute. Webster’s states: “a false, superficial, or artificial appearance or effect.” Now for some reason when I read this definition I think of bandaids. Now my grandkids, they love bandaids. The brighter, more colorful the happier they are. If allowed they’d plaster these band aids all over their bodies! And how about those broken arms and legs your friends had in grade school? How cool was it when you got to write something clever and sign your name on those casts? I think I’ve said it before, I wanted a cast in the hopes that people would want to sign it! When I look at it like that, it’s not the wounds, hurts and brokenness I see. I think for me, then and my grandchildren, now we are only seeing the “glamour” of it.

But there are other bandages, other facades. These are the bandaids that aren’t so brightly colored, the skin tone ones that are almost hidden once applied, bandages where the wound beneath seeps through and stains the surface, the cast so covered with signatures you can’t even see the plaster anymore, it just appears dirty to your sight. Facades that have developed one wound at a time, layering one on top of the other, until eventually all you see is shell, that crust that is so thick and so harsh that all that is left to view are the negative aspects of it.

What would happen if instead of seeing it as someone putting on a false front, a superficial layer or appearance, what if I stretch my view just a little and realize that many a facade (most?) are protective bandages, casts, protective barriers. While these facades do conceal let’s not forget what’s beneath the surface, the hurts, the brokenness and let’s not forget that facades like bandages/casts may be needed in order for those wounds to heal.

I think it’s important too to remember that sometimes the facade we see on the other person isn’t always their facade at all but a reflection of one of our own. Barriers we project out so that we are not stretched into taking a personal risk for a deeper understanding of the other individual. In other words, sometimes it our problem we are seeing.

I was told yesterday that at times I seem unapproachable and I know that - I see that about myself. It’s a facade that I’ve been working on removing for years and with God’s help I know one day will be totally gone. I am blessed to have people in my life that love me enough to share insights with me, about me, and I do take them to heart - think about them, dissect them even, and then do my best to make appropriate changes that present my heart. I also try to take it one step further and make myself realize that if it hurts me that people have a “perception” of me that doesn’t truly match my heart - how many people do I hurt by accepting my perception of them without taking the time, taking the risk to get to really know them.

So here it is. If you think of someone as unlikeable, why not spin that thought and actually choose to like them? If you see someone as unapproachable, why not try approaching them? To put it bluntly (and yes I’ve been told that at times I’m too blunt) I just do not believe that it is 100% my responsibility to change your perception of me. I believe that we all carry a responsibility to realize that first, second and maybe even third impressions, are not always correct. That we have a responsibility to own our perceptions as our own thoughts and not necessarily universal truths of another individual. We carry equal responsibility in approaching one other in love, and while we may not always agree eye to eye on everything, I believe we all hold the responsibility of not laying another layer of facade onto one that is already too heavy of a burden to carry.

My prayer today is that I be an agent of change and renewed perceptions! That God grant me the ability to see beyond myself and my perceptions to the view He has. That He give me the ability, for today, to stretch my heart deeper and wider, to be His hands and His feet. That today that may mean approaching the unapproachable, loving the unloveable, and really listening to those who normally I cannot or will not hear.

Childhood's Country Pathway

2010-05-05T14:59:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl my father’s mother owned two small houses that were nestled in the “crook” of two mountains in Eastern Kentucky. To get to her place, you either had to walk the path from the main road up the mountain, following the trickling brook that was her natural drive or catch a ride and get bounced around on the hard metal bench seat of her Jeep Willy (which was the only vehicle that could safely make that treacherous run).

So we'd arrive and Dad would park the car just off the main road, then we'd embark and travel the short distance to my other grandmother’s front porch whose house was situated at the foot of the mountain. Dad could only sit for a short while before he'd start to fidget and before you knew it (barely enough time to be polite most days) he’d be asking “Who’s walking up the creek with me?”

Now, I never volunteered to walk “up the creek” with Dad. There were two reasons for this, neither of which were that I didn’t like spending time with Dad. But Dad was always in a hurry to arrive at his Mom’s and if I was going to walk that path, I needed the time for the adventure that this path lent itself too. And, if I couldn’t walk it alone I’d rather wait on the Jeep Willy and take the bumpy ride up the mountain! But, if I was really lucky I got to walk it alone or with my brothers and sister who always ran off ahead of me and left me alone to my imagination.

The path was marvelously secluded and within 30 yards from Grandma’s back door it took the slightest of turns and immediately her house and yard were effectively blocked from sight and I was transported to a far off uninhabited land. This land was filled with exotic animals, cool breezes and the choices of foods that you could pluck right off trees or from vines growing along the ground.

The first opportunity for adventure was what I lovingly called the “jungle.” Strange and mysterious, the jungle was just too my right as I made it past the first incline up the mountain. In reality this was a small grove of trees, maybe 20 or 30 in all, the largest with a trunk of about 4” in diameter with heights topping out at about 10 feet. These jungle trees were speckled with small hard red berry clusters that you could not eat - so I always thought of them as Snow White’s poisonous apples. I never knew where my imagination would take me or what I might encounter if I ventured into the jungle, but I did know that if anyone was with me they’d not share the interest I had in tarrying there for a spell.

Once I had spent the necessary time to slay a few dragons, or pet the few tame lions and tigers I’d find, it was time to continue on my way. Staying on the pathway, steadily climbing higher and higher, the next area I entered was an enchanted forest. The trees were larger here with limbs so long they drooped against the ground sweeping it clean as they swayed in the breeze. A canopy so thick above you that all you could get was the “impression” of sunlight as it peeked through the shadows and murkiness created by the heavy foliage. The ground carpeted in a thick lush sweet green moss which was the perfect place to lay down and rest for awhile or to remove my shoes and allow my toes to tickle in the smoothness of its mossy goodness.

From here I’d have to make a choice, to remain on the path or to jump into the stream, whose coolness beckoned to me. If I was feeling hungry or if I thought it was the right season for it, I’d stick to the path as I knew that just over the next little rise there was a tree that loved to tempt me by holding its treasure just beyond my normal reach. I’d take a deep breath and plunge forward running as fast as I could to give myself the needed lift to jump high enough so that hopefully I could harvest a few berries from this temptress. Huge dark purple berries simply dangling there giving me the motivation to “almost” fly and what a glorious victory when I was successful in grabbing a few of these, savoring each bite as they'd burst, hot and sweet on my tongue, creating a party in my mouth that is indescribable to this very day some five decades later.

Eventually if I hadn’t already done so, I’d take whatever shoes I was wearing off and splash into the stream. Wild mint grew abundantly along the little hump of ground that rose in the middle of the stream and as I waded I’d pluck a few leaves and munch on their goodness as though it was chewing gum. Within another 30 or 40 yards the tunnel of greenery would begin to open and I could see the stream getting smaller and smaller as I looked to the right and up the mountain with a dirt road immerging and taking a sharp turn to the left. Just where this dirt road and stream met a burst of sunlight could be seen making an assault on the water, cutting diamonds of light and tossing them up into the air in what seemed every direction.

When I was younger I’d stop just inside the umbrella of the trees, looking for crawdads or witch doctors, wishing I had a jar or box with me so that I could catch a few to keep like I did lightning bugs - always planning on bringing one with me the next time I came.

As I grew older and the fascination with crawdads and witch doctors began to fade, I’d stop at this exact spot, looking ahead to the small field that ran just to the left of the dirt road before it made its last assault upward to the house. There I’d imagine my young prince, setting proud on a beautiful horse, blond, blue eyed and waiting to effortlessly reach down and toss me up just behind him.... but we never got to ride off together as by this time, every time, there would be someone calling my name waking me from my adventures and I’d run up the last little hill to grandma’s stopping only long enough to pluck up a few wild strawberries along the path, totally forgetting about crawdads, witch doctors, and handsome princes in my quest to see the folks waiting for me just around the bend.

Advocate Needed!

2010-03-04T11:03:00.000-08:00

I was doing some reading the other day and came across a story that really caught my attention. It’s a story about a horrible turn of events in the life of a rancher. According to the story this guy was a successful man - in fact he was considered one of the wealthiest men in his area. The story actually listed some of the livestock that he owned 7000 sheep, 3000 ostriches, about a 1000 head of cattle and 500 or so chickens. He seemed to me to be a well diversified.

Now this man had a really large family, seven grown sons and three daughters. The sons, all married with families, lived right on the property and when they weren’t working the ranch together they were throwing parties; taking turns having their family members over and just spending time together. Now by this point I’m thinking this must be one extremely well adjusted family, made me stop and wonder if my family could be that close and still get along...

Another point in the story that really jumped out at me was how the author began the story by talking about what a good man this rancher was, living a life of integrity, always trying to do right and in spite of all his success he appeared to be a really good man. He had never been involved in any type of scandal, was honest and made it a practice to help his neighbors where ever or whenever he saw that there was a need.

Then one day while he and his wife were away, I don’t remember exactly why – maybe a vacation, a devastating tornado hit his ranch resulting in total destruction. He lost his home, he lost his family, he lost his wealth; you see all he had, all he owned was tied up into that ranch. When it was over he and his wife were left with only the land now swept bare by the storm, the only homes the graves of their entire family and ranch hands. Can you imagine, in one afternoon losing everything? Your children, your grand kids, friends, and people you loved and felt responsible to keep safe?

Even with all this destruction, and in the midst of his mourning this man somehow found it within his spirit to praise God to continue to give God the glory! It was amazing the faith he had.

Now you’d think that this man had suffered enough and I don’t know if he caught this disease or if it just happened because of the horrible stress that he’d been under but within what seems like days he broke out with a skin disease, a rash that covered every inch of his body. According to the story there wasn’t even one spot on him that wasn’t covered with the rash, it itched so much that when medicine couldn’t give him any relief he actually scraped the skin right off his body.

And still in the midst of this, he praised God. His wife couldn’t understand it! She even asked him, “Why are you still trying to maintain your integrity? Go ahead curse God so you can die!”

About this time three of his friends show up, now I don’t know why they weren’t there before when he had buried his family, but suddenly here they come to comfort and console him. You cannot imagine how shocked they were! When they saw him, he looked so bad that they didn’t know it was him, couldn’t recognize him. When they saw how he was suffering it was too great for words; so they just sat there beside him. For seven days and seven nights, they sat right next to him and didn’t say anything. For one entire week these men sat together and not a one of them uttered one word.

Just think about that, friends just setting with you, setting beside you, holding you up, just being there for you in your pain for an entire week and not saying one word. What do you think about that? It’s hard for me to even imagine.

After seven days of being held close, being consoled in silence, this rancher finally can speak, so still deep in his grief he begins expressing his hurt and frustration. While he still won’t curse God, he does curse the day he was born, curses the very night he was conceived and wishes that that night be blotted off the calendar - that that night be totally childless. Think about that, he is in so much pain that his cry is that no child would have been conceived on that night - but since that can’t happen his one wish is that he die; he is so deep in his despair that the only thing that he can think of to make the pain stop is that he dies. Mourning so deeply he cannot eat, groans are pouring out of his mouth like water, what he most dreaded all his life has come true, he has no peace, no quietness, all he has - all he can see is his troubles.

Then after being so supportive, after setting there for a week offering silent support his friends start speaking. The first friend quickly tells him that he needs to be patient and accept the punishment for whatever he has obviously done wrong, basically that he has brought these catastrophes onto himself because of his wrong doing. He even goes so far as to tell the rancher that God gave him a vision telling him that there is no way that the rancher is innocent, no way he can be pure and that he needs to take the punishment, listen to his (the friend’s, not God’s) counsel and apply it to himself.

In other words his friend is saying, I don’t care how good you looked you’ve had to have brought these things on yourself through some bad behavior. I always knew you were no better than me and now I can see you’ve must be worse! I’ve never had any of this happen. God is obviously with me. Now suck it up, stop complaining and take your punishment after all God is just and He wouldn’t have let this happen to you otherwise!

When this doesn’t really go over too well with the rancher, his second friend speaks and informs him that if it wasn’t you who did wrong, then obviously it had to be your children so their (the children’s) punishment was well deserved. They wouldn’t have been destroyed if they hadn’t been wicked.

At this point, I’m completely surprised that he hasn’t sent his friends packing. Maybe he would have if he’d had any strength left. I wonder how many times I’ve done what was right, shown the proper support and love to my friends to only wipe it out my opening my big mouth and making mean and hurtful statements disguised as truth.

Well as you can imagine the rancher has plenty to say, which leads his third friend to step into the conversation. I mean these three guys leave their homes, their jobs and their families and haven’t done anything for an entire week other than set with this rancher, which should have earned them the privilege to speak their minds, right? I mean after that, shouldn’t have the rancher been happy to hear their views on the matter? So by now these friends seem to be pretty ticked off too, so in anger the third friend now speaks up and basically blasts the rancher that anyone can say they’re done nothing wrong – that his words don’t prove him innocent! The destruction proves to the contrary, that someone either him or his children or both are to blame. This is all about karma, that rancher just couldn’t have been living the right kind life!

Well as expected the Rancher is done with talking with his friends. He is miserable and feels as though they’ve set him up – given him false hope that he could grieve, could speak his mind and be open and emotionally vulnerable with them. But their words have wiped out all the good they accomplished in those first seven days.

What do you think about this story so far? Have you ever heard it? Who do you think the rancher is?

Yes Job! I remember reading the book of Job and really being confused by it. I’ve got to tell you, for years I totally missed the seven days of silence and really sort of thought that the friends, while not wise in their timing and presentation were speaking some truths to Job. Now be honest, who is with me in that?

But what if this story really isn’t about earthly catastrophe at all? Or how our friends do or do not respond to us. What if it’s about something totally different?

Let’s look at just a few of the verses in the first portion of Job:

Job 1:5b
He would get up early in the morning and offer a burnt offering for each of them. For Job said to himself, “Perhaps my children have sinned and have cursed God in their hearts.”

Job 1:21 and I Tim 6:7

I came naked from my mother’s womb and I will be naked when I leave. The Lord gave me what I had and the Lord has taken it away. Praise the name of the Lord!

Job 4:9 and 2 Thes 2:8

A breath of God destroys them. They vanish in a blast of His anger.

Job 16: 7&8
Oh God, you have ground me down and devastated my family. As if to prove I have sinned, you’ve reduced me to skin and bones.

Are you maybe seeing a pattern? What are your thoughts on this? What I hear is the basic theme that they are overwhelmed with their fear of God.

Now the way I see it, it’s this fear of God that is the strongest motivator for both Job and his friends. Job has lived his life up to this point based on his fear of God and it’s one of the things that kept his friends trying to get him to reconcile that he is to blame, that he needed to stop complaining and just take his punishment. Just stop whining or God just might blast them all away with the breath of His anger!

But Job wants more, he wants to be able to speak with God – to cry his heart out to the God of universe both in pain and rejoicing and he wants to know that not only will God hear him, but that God will actually answer him – face to face! At this point he actually wants to take God to trial. He wants someone to be his mediator, his advocate.

Job 9:32 and Rom 9:20

God is not mortal like me, so I cannot argue with him or take him to trial.

Job 10:1, 2

I am disgusted with my life. Let me complain freely. My bitter soul must complain. I will say to God, “Don’t simply condemn me – tell me the charge you are bringing against me.

Job 16:19

Even now my witness is in heaven. My advocate is there on high.

Job 16:21

I need someone to mediate between God and me.

And finally God does speak, He answers Job. Actually does a pretty good job of putting Job in his place. When I read God’s response, I don’t know if it’s my personality coming through, but I hear some sarcasm.

But Job finally receives the true desire of his heart. It wasn’t that, Job wanted everything to be answered in his favor – he just wanted answers from God.

Here’s Job’s comment and oh, how I love this one!

Job 42:6
I had only heard about You before, now I have seen you with my own eyes!

Now, I have seen you with my own eyes! This really brings my heart joy. The way I understand this, once for Job, there was just the fear of God. He did what he did, out of fear – in the hopes of a good response. When he was grieving, Job looked for a friend to pour his heart out too, his wife wasn’t much help and his three friends while starting out well finished poorly and actually brought more hurt and pain to Job than he had already experienced. But Job wouldn’t stop. Even in his pain, with his laments, he still sought God. He asked for a mediator, a true friend, someone to stand between him and his fear of God.

For everything that the story of Job is and that the story of Job tells us, I am convinced that it is the very heart of all of our stories. The story of all mankind, how our wrongness, our sins separate us from God. How it is impossible for us to really comfort and console one another. How it is really impossible for us to bridge the gap from fear to friend. From trying to figure out the reasons bad things happen to being able to talk to God face to face about everything that happens.

Because you see when God answered Job, He answered that desire (filled the empty God hole) for all of us. All that we have to do is to seek it – even when or especially when we are in the very depths of our trouble.

2 Cor. 7:10
For the kind of sorrow God wants us to experience leads us away from sin and results in salvation. There’s no regret for that kind of sorrow. But worldly sorrow, which lacks repentance, results in spiritual death.

You see God gave us a mediator, a perfect mediator! A mediator that wants to come along side of us, to comfort and console us – a mediator that took our guilty verdict upon Himself so that the charges wouldn’t be placed on us. (I’m convinced the evidence has been wiped clean, washed away.) I am reminded of the woman caught in adultery that was brought before Jesus by the Pharisees. They wanted Jesus to condemn her and have her stoned to death because of her sins. After writing on the ground for while, he simply states, “Those without sin, throw the first stone.” Doesn’t take long for her accusers to scatter, then He looks right in her eyes and says, “Woman where are your accusers?” When she states they are gone, He says, “Neither do I accuse you, go and sin no more.” (John 8)

First Timothy 2:5 states:

For there is only one God and one Mediator who can reconcile God and humanity—the man Christ Jesus.

When we see Jesus, we see our Mediator, we’ve seen God with our own eyes!

The Cost of Forgiveness

2010-02-04T07:03:00.000-08:00

I make it a practice, every morning to read scripture. This is my personal time of study, prayer and devotions to God. And it never fails that regardless where I’m focusing my attention that God will bring something to the front of my mind that I’ve never really seen before. Any of your guys ever have that happen to you?

The other morning I was reading in the Old Testament studying that time after God had brought His people out of slavery in Egypt and under Joshua’s leadership was giving them the promised land, one battle at a time - this verse caught my eye:

Judges 1:6-7 (NASB)
But Adoni-bezek fled; and they pursued him and caught him and cut off his thumbs and big toes.
7Adoni-bezek said, "Seventy kings with their thumbs and their big toes cut off used to gather up scraps under my table; as I have done, so God has repaid me." So they brought him to Jerusalem and he died there.

WOW! Can you imagine – having both your thumbs and both your big toes cut off? I read that and stopped dead in my tracks, trying to think just what that would be like. How humiliating. Especially for a warrior – instead of a steady and purposeful walk, I’d always forever after be wobbly with unsure feet. And that’s not to mention never being able to handle a sword again which I think was the weapon of choice then. I mean, how’d I even hold a fork? You know a lot of scientists say that the biggest difference between humans and other mammals are our apposing thumbs…………. Needless to say I spent several days just pondering having my big toes and both my thumbs cut off.

I just kept going back time and time again to these two verses and I finally landed on that 2nd verse. King Adoni-bezek himself had done this very same thing to 70 kings who afterwards were reduced to gather the scraps from under his table as they were no longer able to provide for themselves……

When I was a little girl, I loved to hang out with the adults. Listen in on their conversations and maybe if I was lucky be the center of attention for a little while. I remember it feeling so good, and eventually I’d start acting out a little – something my Mother called being “brigaddy.” Any of you ever hear that word, brigaddy? Anyway I’d start showing off, and one of the adults (usually one of the Aunts) would look me straight in the eye and say, “Little girl you’d better watch yourself, cause you’re going to reap what you sow.” Might not always be those exact words, sometimes it was “Laugh now, cry later;” Or “won’t be near as much fun if your Daddy catches you acting like that!” Man did they know how to dampen a party and bring me down. Because regardless of their exact words, I got their meaning! I was acting badly and I was going to pay for that bad behavior! I was going to reap the consequences for my behavior.

The more I read the more it seemed to me that King Adoni-bezek must have grown up around some of my relatives because he certainly was “getting” that same concept. He himself said, “As I have done, so God has repaid me.”

Now while I believe that there are consequences for my behavior, it doesn’t always set well with me when I’m pondering God’s mercy and grace in the New Testament with His “an eye for eye and a tooth for a tooth” in the Old. Any of you ever think like that, or am I the only one?

I mean it sort of seems that God is pretty ticked off through a lot of the Old Testament. Just look how quickly the victory in chapter 1 of Judges turns to God’s anger in chapter 2. It seems almost instantly the Israelites have gone and done it again and it isn’t near as much fun when Daddy catches them acting badly again!

Judges 2:20-23 (NLT) 
So the anger of the LORD burned against Israel, and He said, "Because this nation has transgressed My covenant which I commanded their fathers and has not listened to My voice,
21(I also will no longer drive out before them any of the nations which Joshua left when he died,
22in order to (test Israel by them, whether they will keep the way of the LORD to walk in it as their fathers did, or not."
23So the LORD allowed those nations to remain, not driving them out quickly; and He did not give them into the hand of Joshua.

So which is He? Is He the “Eye for an Eye,” God or the “Mercy and Grace,” Savior?

No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t come up with an answer that made sense to me, so I decided to just keep reading and trusting that God is love and love is all about mercy and love is all about grace and trusting is all about faith. Faith that even when I can’t understand and don’t have the capacity for it that God is always faithful and true and can be trusted. Then I came to the third chapter of Judges.

Judges 3:1-2 (NLT)
These are the nations that the Lord left in the land to test those Israelites who had not experienced the wars of Canaan. 2 He did this to teach warfare to generations of Israelites who had no experience in battle.

Wait a minute, maybe it’s not about punishment at all. Maybe it’s about discipline? One definition of discipline is; “Training expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior.”

God wasn’t just being mean, punishing the Israelites for bad behavior. He was disciplining them – teaching them to be warriors so they could defend themselves. He loved them so much that He wanted them prepared for life and even though it was in His power to do so, for some reason He just didn’t hand it over to them - they had to do some work for it. Really sounds like a parent doesn’t it. His heart was for His children’s good, so He allowed a situation, circumstance, through which they could learn a specific character or pattern of behavior – He had an outcome in mind other than retribution! He wanted them successfully involved in their outcomes!

So this thought begs the question, when was the last time you had your thumbs and big toes cut off? What was your situation? Did you, like King Adoni-bezek, believe or even say, “God has repaid me?” Or maybe you tried to figure out what you’d done that made God mad enough to bring the catastrophe, this situation I'm seeing as punishment?

But let’s take a closer look.

Judges 2:11-16
The Israelites did evil in the Lord’s sight and served the images of Baal. They abandoned the lord, the God of their ancestors, who had brought them out of Egypt. They went after other gods, worshiping the gods of the people around them. And they angered the Lord. They abandoned the Lord to serve Baal and the images of Ashtoreth. This made the Lord burn with anger against Israel, so He handed them over to their enemies all around, and they were no longer able to resist them, causing them to be defected as as He had warned. And the people were in great distress.

Let’s continue....
Judges 1:16 Then the Lord raised up judges to rescue the Israelites from their attackers.

Now, let that all sink in just for a minute. How many times have I always focused on the “punishment,” here and not really comprehended everything that is being communicated.

1) They had been warned, time and time again - instructed on how to behave. Were told that they behavior had consequences. They refused to listen, like many children, believing they knew what was best and that they didn’t have to follow God’s
(Daddy's) instructions.
2) When their behavior opened the door to catastrophe, like most children do - they cried out to their Daddy (God) to take over and save them and get them out of a horrible situation (one created by their behavior).
3)God’s love for His children is so strong that even though it happened time and time and He knew they’d behave badly again and again, He stepped in with a plan to save them. (Judges 1:16)

He forgave them, put a plan in place that would give them the tools to be successful and it didn’t cost them anything. All they had to do was receive it. Sounds pretty good doesn’t it? Sounds like mercy, grace and love to me. Sounds like I've been focusing on the wrong portion of the scriptures!

According to Timothy Keller’s book “Prodigal God;” “Mercy and forgiveness must be free and unmerited to the wrongdoer - if the wrongdoer has to do something to merit it, then it isn’t mercy.” But this doesn’t mean that forgiveness is free, “forgiveness always comes at a cost to the One granting the forgiveness.”

You see God not only stepped in with a plan to save the Israelites this time, but because He’s God, He knew that they’d need help time and time again. He knew that we’d never be able to manage it either on our own either. He knew that forgiveness would be costly, not to us - but to Him. As Keller writes, “Jesus was stripped naked of His robe and dignity so that we could be clothed with a dignity and standing we don’t deserve. On the cross Jesus was treated as an outcast so that we could be brought into God’s family freely by grace. There Jesus drank the cup of eternal justice so that we might have the cup of the Father’s joy. There was no other way for the heavenly Father to bring us in, except at the expense of our true elder brother.”

He loves me so much that He's willing to discipline me as any good parent does and He willing paid the costs involved in forgiveness. How awesome is that?

We Forgot Music

2010-01-30T18:27:00.000-08:00

We gathered at the church with our immediate family and two best friends, so the church was mostly empty. The preacher performing the ceremony was from my parent’s church, he stood with a solemn expression just in front of the altar. No one thought to lower the lights and I was blinded by their glare as I sat three pews back beside my Mom.

Someone finally took charge, I don’t remember who, and I was directed to the front. My dress, pink over pink, was short - striking just above my knee. His suit brown, perhaps the first one his parent’s had ever gotten for him, and a green shirt. I was shocked by that green shirt, it just didn’t seem appropriate for the occasion.

My best friend stood beside me as my maid of honor. We arranged for his little sister to be flower girl but hadn’t bothered with actually bringing any petals for her to drop. Our wedding rings, plan gold bands to precious for us to trust to my nephew to carry as ring barer. His father’s words still ringing in my ears of our irresponsible in spending money on such nonsense as those rings.

As I stood just in front of the preacher waiting for the service to begin, my mind traveled back over the past two months. His mom’s anger and never ending lament of “How could you do this to me?” His father grim statement, “Well son you’re stuck with her now;” speaking as though I was invisible and not standing there right beside his son as he spoke.

I couldn’t figure out why my parents allowed his father, after long fervent insisting, to take me on that mad trip to Paris, Va (without them) thinking we could “secretly” get married there even though only 17. Or his bringing us into his kitchen and chastising us (me) for telling someone that I was pregnant as though anyone with any awareness couldn’t easily see that I was only gaining weight around my waist. Besides it wasn’t like it was going to be going away.

The Ceremony finally began and was over very quickly. The only sound I remember, the clicking of my knees as I tried to stand still and pay attention to what the preacher was saying.

I signed the marriage license then as he signed his name, I stood just behind him twisting the wedding band round and round on my finger wondering if I just say it right now and take the ring off before we walk out of the church that this craziness would end and we’d not be married. I could just go back to being a senior in high school.

But I didn’t say a word - just stood there in total silence and to this day the one memory that over shadows all others is the deafening silence. The wedding, with no joy, no congratulations, and absolutely no music.

I Too Have a Dream

2010-01-20T10:47:00.000-08:00

My entire life I’ve really struggled with understanding racial prejudice. How is it that the pigmentation in our skins – a detail created by less than a 2% difference in our DNA – can create a situation or mind set that allows a person to think less of a group of people and more of themselves?

In the mid-fifties while I was a little girl, my family moved from the hills of Eastern Kentucky to Huntington, WV. Our house was located directly across the street from a good sized hospital where many of the employees were people of color. This was the first time in my life that I can remember ever seeing anyone who really didn’t look like me and I was totally fascinated. I would set on the front porch with my mother and watch the people as they came and went from work; talking with each other, joking, laughing - with skin that looked to me like chocolate silk. I wanted to get closer, to be able to touch that skin and look directly into their eyes, maybe even talk with them some, but my mother’s answer to that request was, “stop staring Peggy, it’s not polite.”

Before I was in grade school we moved across the Ohio River to Chesapeake, Ohio, which for all intents and purposes was a totally white community. So, the only time I’d see anyone of color would either be on television (usually the news), or on our twice monthly public transportation rides (we rode the City Bus) to town to pay bills and to do a little shopping. As we journeyed, the bus stopped frequently allowing people on and off and it was a mix, a casserole, of skin colors and nationalities. Once again I was totally fascinated. I wanted to get closer – to touch and see. But my Mother’s voice was still loud and clear; “Peggy, stop staring it’s not polite!”

I remember watching Martin Luther King on the news in 1963 as he gave his address “I’ve Got a Dream!” I can still feel the chills and the emotion it brought to me even at the tender age of eight. His words motivated me and I wanted to go and be an active part of the solution instead of part of the problem. It was around this time that I discovered books, so a whole world opened up to me and I remember reading the library out on every book that covered the topic of the Underground Railroad - I identified which of the houses just to the east of us were a part of that road to freedom so many years ago and my active imagination would run through different scenarios of those journeys, the hardship, the hiding in the dark, the perils to both the runaway and those assisting them.

It’s not that I wasn’t aware of prejudice, even though I lived in an entire “white” community and thus didn’t see it in action - I did hear the talk. I heard the conversations that the adults thought were going over my head as I sat on the floor playing jacks. And, I remember all too well the times that I was urged to be quiet when I so desperately wanted to question what I heard, being told that I was just too young to understand… Well I didn’t understand then and I don’t understand now.

I’m not saying that I can understand any person’s or ethic group’s personal struggle, just as they cannot totally and completely understand mine. I’m just trying to figure out why we have to approach our differences in this manner.

Maybe it has more to do with an individual that I recently had to let go from work. You see I supervised her and her supervisor during her short tenure and while it wouldn’t be appropriate to go into the reasons for the dismissal, it never entered my mind to let her go for any reason other than her individual conduct and performance. Yet, now she is saying is was because she is a person of color. She appears to be on a massive campaign (not her first during her employ with us) trying to involve the media and trying to discredit not only me, but my company as well. Never touching on the personal responsibility that is hers based on her actions that has nothing to do with race.

My usual response is to stay quiet, not speak out, not question; because as my Mother used to admonish me, it’s just not polite. But is that the correct response? Is it okay to lay blame where it doesn’t belong, to create reasons that don’t exist just because there is always someone who is going to be willing to listen and believe? I know that the answer to that question is it is going to occur that way because we live in a fallen world after all. But God is in charge and all things work to the good of those who love Him and are called to His purpose. So my prayer today is that God rains multiple blessings on this woman. Blessings of provision and blessings of peace – that He place people in her life that will help her along her walk and that He draw her closer to Him with each and every breath she takes. I ask this for myself as well and that He completely blankets us both in His truth.

Mom

2009-11-20T18:54:00.000-08:00

Perhaps the best place to start is at the beginning of the end. That day wasn’t much different than many of the others that I had had to face with my Dad. Began with a phone call, “Peg, this is Dad. Your Mother has fallen and I can’t manage to get her up by myself.” “Have you called an ambulance?” “Should I? I called just before I called you.” “Is she conscience?” “Yes.” “What happened?” “She was on her way to the bedroom, with her walker, she stopped at the doorway – there just over the floor furnace grate. I asked her what was wrong, and she said her legs were going to give way. I tried to catch her, but before I could get there she was on her knees, holding herself up with just her arms. I was trying to get onto floor with her, but there wasn’t much room to maneuver, she said that perhaps she could push herself with my help through the door and over to her bed, and we could get her up from there. I moved the walker to give this a try. We hadn’t really started when she said she thought her arms were going to give way too, her arms began that uncontrollable tremble, before I could react her arms gave out and she fell hard to the floor. Hit her head.” “Dad, you’re taking her straight to the Emergency Room?” “Yes.” “I’ll meet you there.”

I was at work, in the warehouse when the phone call came and while not that different from the dozens of other phone calls I had received from Dad over the past two years since Mom’s stoke, this call took my breath. I felt like I had jumped into a pool filled with ice water, and even though it was an unseasonably warm evening in October I broke out in goose bumps and a cold sweat.

I ran down the rickety steps to the ground floor. Calmly stated, “Got to go, Mom’s fallen and I need to meet Dad at the hospital.” Concern from those present, “Is she okay?” “No, I don’t think so.” Their questions came heavy and slow as though being filtered through thick syrup, my statements and responses coming from somewhere outside of myself. Silently screaming at myself, “Hurry, Hurry! How can you be so calm!”

The drive in many ways seemed longer than normal, yet because of my fears and what I thought I would have to face it ended to quickly. “Please let her be alive, please let her be alive, Lord if she has to go tonight, please let it be after I get there, please God, please God,” I pleaded over and over again. That drive is magnified in my mind’s eye. The night sky clear and dark with a golden tint coming from where the sun had just fallen beneath the horizon. The lights from the Ashland building on the hill over the 6th Street exit sparkle as I pass. How can it be so beautiful? How can anything bad happen on a night such as this one? “Please let her be alive, please let her be alive, Lord if she must go tonight, please let me there before she leaves. God, please. God, please.”

I was so sure of this day’s outcome that I called my boss while in route. “Mom’s fallen, I’m going to meet her and Dad at the Emergency Room.” “Is she okay? she asked.” “No, I don’t think so. You’ll need to call Roger and make sure the warehouse is covered, I don’t know what will happen. I don’t think that I will be available.” “Call me when you know something,” concern in her voice. “I’ll do my best.”

I try calling my sister, no answer at either her Charleston or Charlotte numbers. I leave messages at both. “Sharon, this is Peggy. I’m on the way to meet Dad at the Emergency Room. Mom fell in the hallway, on top of the furnace grate.” I call my older brother, and though nearly paralyzed with fear, I assure him that everything is okay (Oh God, please let it be so) and that I’ll call from the hospital. He is to call our other brother, Tom. After I hang up I wonder why I said that? Do I really believe that everything is going to be okay? I’m afraid that I’m so selfish that the reason is that I want her last living moment to be with me, only me. No, that’s not it – she is going to be alright, she will be going home. I’m not ready to be without my Mother.

Mom reached the hospital in her ambulance at almost the same time that my Dad and I arrive in our cars. I’m directed back to a small room, where my mother is lying on a hospital gurney much to small for her girth, already in a hospital gown her body is doing it’s best to bust out of. She has managed to keep her pants on though and appears more comfortable for that fact. Her nose is scraped and there’s a small red bump coming up just to the side of her forehead.

I lean over and stroke her face and hair with both my hands. She looks into my eyes and smiles. States in no uncertain terms, “I need to pee now!” Before I can get the nurses to get me a bedpan it’s too late, Mom soils her pants. No problem, easy clean up. “I love you Mama,” I say over and over again. I feel foolish, so sure this was the end. Yes she’s bruised, but in fine spirits. Talkative as usual, a magpie.

Hospital personnel arrive and whisk her away for a CAT scan. Dad and I wait in her small room. He repeats the events of the day. Mom got up with a headache, maybe he should have taken more notice. She has chronic headaches, how was he to know that this one might be different. How will he get her home, they will have to keep her until she can walk. If she can’t walk how will he take care of her. The thoughts swirling around and around in his head are coming in a steady stream out his mouth. I try to calm him the best I can, feeling such relief that my mother appears not to be at death’s door that I find a spot on the floor and finally allow my body to just give way onto it. The multitude of problems that are facing Dad too insignificant in comparison with my thoughts up to this point.

Mother’s return to her room in the same high spirits. Restarts the conversation as though she hasn’t been gone for the better part of an hour. Her conversation is music, never ending soothing music. “Peggy, I dreamed of Dale today.”

Dale is my aunt, not by blood but by decision. She is the daughter of my grandmother’s (my father’s mother) second husband. Dale lived most of my life on and off with us as I was growing up, like a sister to my Mother and a surrogate mother to me. She died on December 3, 1992.

“What was your dream? I ask Mom.” “I dreamed I was somewhere with Dale, but I don’t know exactly where, it’s wasn’t familiar. We were taking care of a baby. That baby was the prettiest little thing, had blond hair. Oh, Peggy we were having the best time! I really hated to wake up.”

“Peg, I got to go again.” “No problem, I’ll go get the nurses.” Again, too late.

For the next several hours Mom needed to go like clockwork every 15 minutes. “What did you drink today?” “Nothing different. Oh, there I go again. No warning that time.” The nurses finally wise up and put in a catheter.

The doctor comes in, stays two minutes and leaves. The physician’s assistant comes in and says that the CAT scan is really unremarkable. Shows us what “might” be a shadow, or it could be where she moved during the procedure. If it’s a shadow, it’s probably where her brain is bruised from the fall. They’ll let us know more later.

I still think that we will be taking Mom home that night, Dad doesn’t think so. If she can’t walk how will he get home much less take care of her. We’ll cross that bridge when it comes is all I can think.

More tests and more waiting. Mom magically scoots to the foot of the mini-bed and is unable to get herself rearranged. The nurses are called again and get her back in position. The PA returns stating they will be keeping Mom over night for observation.

Mom hates being in the hospital. All her life it’s been one thing or the other, mostly asthma and she dreads every moment given over to a stay. She doesn’t like to stay alone. I’m torn, because I know this. I also know that I will need to go to work tomorrow and that I will be dead tired after sleeping in a chair by her bedside. “Mom, would you like for me to stay with you.” “Peggy I hate for you to have to do that, with your bad back and all.” “I don’t mind, I love being with you. I will need to run to the house though, bring the dog in the house and get some clothes for work tomorrow. Dad can you get back by say 7:30 or 8:00am?” Dad smiles, “earlier if you want.” “No, 8:00am will be fine.” “Dad, you won’t go before I get back will you?” “No, as a matter of fact she’ll probably still be here – you know how slow this place is to do anything.”

I kiss my Mother, telling her I’ll be back as soon as possible. My Mother’s last words to me are, “I really hate for you to do this, are you sure you don’t mind?”

I arrive home, still relieved and begin to prepare for the next day. It’s after midnight and my poor dog has been chained up outside since 7:00am! She is wired and needing to play. After I pack I set down to play with the dog and work off some of her energy before I put her in her crate. The phone rings.

“Peggy, you better get back fast.” My fathers words over the line. “Why? What’s happened.” Not long after you left Mom wanted to set up on the side of the bed so I helped her up. She started picking at the bottoms of my shirt, trying to rip them off. Then she started trying to get up off the bed. I said, “Inas, what are you doing? You know you can’t get up, and you’re going to rip my shirt.” She told me plan as day, “Yes I can. I’m going to walk over there and set in that chair for a while.” Well, I talked her out of that then she began trying to rip the buttons off my shirt again. I knew something wasn’t right so I got the nurses. They have your Mom back doing another CAT scan.

I’m on my way.

I don’t remember one moment of this second trip to the hospital. It is as though I was home and then suddenly I was back at the hospital.

Mother is in a different room, larger so that more hospital personnel can get in and care for her. The PA meets me at the door. “The CAT scan shows a large accident. She’s bleeding into her brain. The speech area of her brain is gone, she won’t be able to speak to you and I think most of her memory will be going soon as well.” Blunt and to the point, but she did keep her hand on my shoulder through the entire conversation. She walked me over to show me proof on the CAT scan film. There was a dark ball taking up about a quarter of Mom’s brain.

I run to Mom’s room. The nurses carefully explain that Mother can’t speak to me, but can hear everything. That it would be good for me to talk with her, reassure her, tell her goodbye.

I walk up the bed. Larger this time, cradling her girth. I lean over the bed and stroke her face and hair with both my hands, “Mom, I love you. Have they explained to you what’s happened?” She looks up at me, a very direct look, unreadable. Fear isn’t mirrored there, only longing. I’m struck with just how beautiful my Mother really is. Her eyes are simply fantastic.

I see peace there, in my Mother’s eyes. And something else – perhaps longing.  Dad returns. Confused and in denial. Tells me that another doctor was there earlier wanting to make some decisions, but he told him to come back after I got there.

The Doctor arrives and wants to talk about our options. Dad wants to leave Mom’s room, the doctor states even though she can’t speak she can hear us perfectly well, that any conversation we have regarding her is her right to hear.

He breaks horrible news. There is a massive bleed and there won’t, no can’t, be full recovery. He tells us that if she lives, and it will be a miracle if that happens even with dynamic effort, she probably won’t remember any of us and she’ll definitely never be able to speak again.

By this time Mom has slipped away, still alive but unconscious and who knows if she can hear us or not.

The doctor’s news is grim and Dad is barely in control. I ask the doctor, if we go for dynamic measures what does that involve. He describes surgery, busting into Mom’s brain by removing a portion of her skull - massive long procedure that can only be done after they get her blood thickened (she has been on blood thinner for years). He explains that the very act of taking her off the blood thinners may create a clot that either migrates to the lungs or the brain which in itself may end up killing her. I look the doctor dead in the eyes and ask him point blank - is your mother still alive. He answers yes. If it were your mother, right here, right now and you were making the decision for her - what would you decision be? He doesn’t hesitate, tells me that he’d take her off of all live support and medications, thus creating a situation where she would simply fade away from us.

Dad and I discuss the options and decide to go with the doctors recommendations. Just after the decision is made, my brothers arrive and everything has to be retold and the decisions made again. I’m beyond exhausted and feel as though if they don’t stop talking that my head is going to explode. Finally, they wheel Mom to her room and I set up to spend the night.

That night turned into six nights. People came and people went, I flew my kids in from across the country (my son from California and my daughter from Texas) so that they could say goodbye to a warm body. I went for 72 hours before my body forced sleep on me - so afraid that she’d pass without me aware. You see I had to be there, it was so important to me to be there when her spirit left her body. I don’t know why - it just was all I could think of. Either that she’d open her eyes and all would be well or her spirit would slip away and for either I had to be there.

The six days and nights that Mom lingered we clung together as a family. Cousins, aunts, nieces, nephews, sons and daughters, grandchildren, we came together as though it was a reunion. We loved each other and we were horrible to one another. I think back on that week and wonder how any of us survived the tension and stress of waiting for Mom to die.

One of my last memories is standing by the bed, stroking Mom’s hair, willing her to open her eyes and be okay. A longing came over me so strong that I still wonder why I didn’t act on it. To just crawl into the bed with her and hug her tight. You see when I was a little girl, I loved finding Mom alone in her and Dad’s bed and crawling under the covers with her. I loved her scent and the warmth of her skin as well as the sound of her deep and steady breathing. I was so over whelmed with that old longing, to crawl in that bed with Mom just as I did when I was a little, that to this day I don’t know how I managed not to follow my heart. But I didn’t do it, I stood there and pushed that longing aside and to this day oh how I wish I had followed my heart.

Six days after she fell, around 11:00am on a dark and rainy day Mom quietly slipped away. The six days that she lingered were the most emotionally wrenching and stressful time of my life. Images forever burned on my brain. Yet I cannot remember the exact day in October or the exact year of her death and I always wonder why that is.

Fall Blues

2009-09-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

Fall has come and so it seems I’m going through a weird time, one of indecision and uncertainty, with vague aches and pains, migraine headaches and a stuff body that is refusing to move as I direct it. Why? Well to be frank – I don’t know nor do I understand it.

This time of uncertainly is not the first such episode of my life, and does seem to come more often in the fall than any other time of the year. The first visit occurred in the fall of 1966 and I remember it well. I was in the 7th grade. Me and a friend of mine were walking around Chesapeake Junior High at lunch – that’s what we did, we ate and then because we thought we were too old to play on the monkey bars or giant stride, we walked around the building until the bell rang sending us to our afternoon classes. I vividly recall my emotions (I hesitate to refer to them as thoughts, they just seemed to out of control to be that) as they twirled and swirled around inside me; emotions of indecision and uncertainty, of longing for something (maybe love?) and stability; something that I could grasp onto and make some kind of sense of for my life. I remember thinking would things ever really be different?

As we walked the topic turned to children and a longing so strong rose up in me. I could actually feel the weight of my child in my arms and that sweet smell of baby whiffed up into my nose and my senses. I felt, what I thought had to be, perfect love. As that thought passed another replaced it, in my mind’s eye there was me and I was surrounded by 5 or 6 of the blackest children I had ever laid my eyes on ranging in age from about 2 to 4 years. In my arms I cradled a black baby, perfectly soft, perfectly created and sleeping restfully. This vision was quite a shock to me, since I was totally surrounded by white. The town was white, the school - white, everybody there was white, so much so that when in the 8th grade a student enrolled that was from Puerto Rico he became an instant hit not because he had such a winning personality but because he was a novelty. As this picture began to fade, and while I didn’t have a strong understanding of the word, I clearly heard “missions” spoken to me. At that point I knew I was being called to something beyond myself and my current understanding.

This event so impacted my being that to this day I can describe to you how my hair was styled and exactly what I was wearing. But, I didn’t tell a soul. Never once in the following 30 years did I tell anyone about this event! At the age of 12 I simply did not have a frame of reference to explain the vision (and yes it was a vision, I’m certain of that) or to explain how I clearly heard the one word directive. I couldn’t even speak it in my thoughts that God had spoken to me, how was I going to explain it to anyone else?

So I filed the memory away, got past what I eventually came to call my fall blues and began living a life of my own choosing.

Falls came and went with varying stages of the blues and occasionally the memory of that vision in 1966 would be brought back to me, but as the years passed less frequently until eventually it had almost completely faded from my memory. And I had changed, my life had changed. I had two wonderful children that were the center of my world and my focus was on them until one day in the fall of 2002 it dawned on me that I was alone, with one adult child living in Texas and the other in Germany. I realized I was thoroughly dissatisfied with my life and decided I needed a change. So, God opened a door and I moved to the unlikely place of Cincinnati, OH. Wonderfully, my daughter, in Germany decided to join me so immediately my satisfaction level raised about 1000%!

Once here, I still had my “fall blues,” and after about 4 years God brought back to me that vision of so many falls ago, and along with that memory a new vision. In this one, I’m standing on a small knoll covered in dirt that is similar to red Georgia clay. It is hot and I’m dressed in some sort of wrap around multi colored skirt and t-shirt, I’m thinner than I am now and my hair is blowing gently in a small breeze, the sun so bright I have one hand over my eyes to shade them, my body tanned and my cheeks highlighted in red from a slight sunburn, and there are three beautiful black children clinging to the hem of my shirt while I hold a black toddler on my hip. I hear the word “missions” again, but this time it reverberates through my being and hits my heart with the heat of the tropics. I also hear two years and assume that I have two years to ready myself for this calling.

In those two years I complete studies at the Vineyard Leadership Institute and wait with anticipation for God to “reveal” to me His plan once I graduate. Graduation comes and goes, but I hear nothing. The summer after graduation comes and goes, still I hear nothing. So here I am, it’s the fall – the time of the year that is always the most difficult for me emotionally and I feel like I’m struggling to just get through each day. My body hurts, both shoulders stiff with limited range of motion, migraines that I have not really suffered with for many years have reappeared and are with me almost on a daily basis, I’m suffering pain in my left hip and in the lumbar region of my spine, and even with exercise my weight is not budging down even one pound. I’m a mess, but have decided to speak life and not death into the situation so am prodding on the best I can and trying not to complain.

I am praying for God’s leadership and direction. I am praying for healing and restoration and for the will and ability to make life changes that will impact my body weight and overall health. Praying for patience that I not jump ahead, but wait to hear from the One that does know what is best and will direct my path. Oh, I forgot to mention, when God brought that second vision to me, I asked Him, “How, how now at this old age and this current level of physical ability (or disability); with these health issues?” His answer was Joel 2:25 “Then I will make up to you for the years that the swarming locust have eaten, the creeping locust, the stripping locust and the gnawing locust, my great army which I sent among you.” Wow, those locusts really do sound like so many aspects of my past, at my choosing I allowed them to swarm, creep, and strip and gnaw away at me – but God has promised restoration! I don't know what the future holds, or how God will use me but that's okay. These fall blues will pass and He will guide my path in His time and not mine.

Sept. 25, 2009 Muslim Day of Prayer

2009-09-26T08:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, on Sept. 25, 2009,fourteen days after the anniversary of 9/11 tens of thousands of Muslims planned to pray for the “soul of America” in mosques and outside the U.S. Capitol. I didn’t watch the news so don’t know what if any coverage the event received from that media – but really didn’t find much coverage of the event on the internet this morning either. So, I don’t know anything at this point regarding the turnout.

But many of the responses I have read prior to the event were comments along the lines of; a group of people praying to a demon god or praying to a non-existent god. I have been taught since I was a child that the god Muslim’s pray to is not the god of Abraham, even though they believe that he is. Now, these type of statements make me truly shiver and I’m not always sure exactly why.

Why is it that as Christians we can recognize the God of the Jews as God and that they just have it wrong in regards to Jesus and we can’t recognize the god of the Muslims along these same lines? Is it just because of the Koran? Then what of the Jewish Talmud? Is it because we believe Islam has rewritten the books of the Old Testament in such a way that they don’t match up to the Torah (if my understanding is correct, Isaac is replaced by Ishmael in the story of Mt. Moriah as one case in point)?

Why do I shiver? I think I shiver, not because I am appalled of what is being said, or that it isn’t truth, or that I believe it was Ishmael and not Isaac. I think I shiver because I hear fear in the words; fear of satan and of satan’s dominions. We are afraid of the capacity of this group of people to do evil and to harm us. We are afraid of their holy jihad. I don’t believe that it is unreasonable that we fear – 9/11 taught us that.

But is that fear controlling our thoughts, reactions, words? If we are soaked in fear how do we take up the “Great Commission” and approach these lost souls? How well they ever hear our witness when we stay locked in our fear and while never speaking directly to them continue to call their god a demon or non-existent in our writing? I believe that God’s heart is that they come to Him through Jesus and that Jesus is the bridge of understanding between the two of us.

As with a good majority of Christians, Muslims believe what they are taught and are not reading the books of their faith anymore than many of us read our Bibles. They are taught that Jesus was a prophet; that it is He who will usher in the end of the world (that He will return) as a prophet – just not as the Son of God. The book of John for the Muslim is the Injel. The same book of John where we can find what Jesus said of Himself. That He alone is “the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

I’m not saying that the bridge is going to be easy to walk across. I’m just saying that I don’t think I have chance of being heard by my Muslim brothers and sisters, of presenting to them what one of their books (the Injel) has to say on the topic of Christ if my fear is turning my heart to use words that are going to push them harder away from me, to want them either gone entirely or to turn them into what I see as a good American, instead of having a heart that desires they come into the family of God and accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior. He is the only way to the Father.

That label is so loud, I can't hear what you are saying!

2009-09-06T08:44:00.000-07:00

I got up this morning and began my usual morning routine of breakfast at the computer. You see, I go to the web for news of world and to Facebook for news of my friends. I especially love Facebook even with all it’s unnecessary clutter (nope not really interested in your Mafia status) as it helps keep me up to date on people that I would be totally out of touch with. I get to see pictures of family I’ve never met and on occasion read a comment from the heart that opens my understanding of who they are and what’s truly important to them. I find this freaking amazing!

I also like a good debate. If I listen, really listen, a well articulated viewpoint stretches my thought process, pulls out questions I’d never considered and allows me to know the things about my friend that are important to them. I gain a better understanding of the life they live, how they process information and think through problems based on that particular filter. If I listen to everything they are communicating it gives me a road map to the care and perseverance of a friend. In other words it can bring me beyond myself, outside of my view, outside of my filter and open up a whole world of understanding. Debate for me is not necessarily about swaying but understanding the other’s viewpoint. It’s about learning about one another those things that make us who we are – the things about each other that make us unique!

What I don’t get is the nastiness that can come through a difference of opinion; the name calling, the mud slinging and just the plain ugliness that spews forth. It saddens me that if we the nation, exercise our rights under the constitution that we are labeled as “Nazis,” “unpatriotic,” “bitter clinger,” “evil monger,” “angry mobster,” or a “mob.” By the same token these same people that are being so labeled come carrying signs stating “A village in Kenya is missing their Idiot.” wearing t-shirts with a picture of a white faced black eyed Obama labeled as “joke,” or one with “Chairman Maobama,” logo across the front. Or by someone thinking it’s okay to call anyone hypocrite because they believe that Michael Vic should not be allowed to play professional sports again due to his dog cruelty conviction because after all Sarah Palin reportedly shoots wolfs from a helicopter and calls that sport.

What I’m saying is I believe our views are lost, deeply buried, in the meanness of our response when we react in these manners, with these types of words and actions.

As it states in Romans 13:1-3, I believe that there is no authority except from God and that our leaders are placed by His hand. That we are to submit to this authority, and protest against it, in such a fashion that honors God, and shows respect to everyone (1 Peter 13:17) and Titus 3:1 states; “Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe with all my heart that each and everyone has the right to a viewpoint, an opinion that is different from mine. If you think differently than me it does not make you evil, it does not give me the right to name call or sling mud at you, it does not make you stupid or ignorant, it does not make you a hypocrite, it does not turn you into a Nazi, it is not a sign that you are unpatriotic or that you don’t care about the “working poor,” nor does it give me the right to hit you with racial or ethnic slurs.

As a Christian I am called to pray for my leaders. “I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone – for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all people to be saved to come to a knowledge of the Truth.” (1 Tim. 1-4) Now, I don’t believe that this is a call to stick my head in the sand and ignore the “issues” of the day or to not speak out; but what if while I’m speaking out my goal is to be a representative of God and to show His love? I don’t know about you, but pray changes the condition of my heart; it makes it impossible for me to hold hatred toward a person or their view when I’m on my knees in prayer for them.

Can our prayers change God's mind?

2009-09-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

Last night at my Monday small group meeting this question was thrown out; “Can our prayers actually change God’s mind?” My answer basically, “I have no understanding of things that are not understandable.” While this answer brought a “chuckle” to the group (even to me it sounded much like Orwell’s double talk/double think process) it is still my stand on this and most any topic concerning God. I simply do not have the intellect, the ability, the brains, whatever you want to call it to comprehend the awesomeness of the Sovereign Lord God Almighty!

According to Robert B. Chisholm, Jr. Department Chair and Professor of Old Testament at Dallas Theological Seminary, “It depends. In the Old Testament not all statements of intention are the same, some are decrees or oaths that are unconditional and bind the speaker to a stated course of action. Others, which may be labeled announcements, retain a conditional element and do not necessarily bind the speaker to a stated course of action) Now to me that really sounds more along the lines of the explanation of a covenant than the answer to the question of whether or not God changes His mind, even though Dr. Chisholm makes many points which he richly substantiates with scripture references. .” (Does God “Change His Mind?” http://faculty.gordon.edu/hu/bi/ted_hildebrandt/otesources/02-exodus/Text/Articles/Chisholm-ChangeMind-BSac.pdf

Beneath the Cross states in their article Does Prayer Change God’s Mind? “There are two primary views of prayer in Christianity. One is that God uses prayer as one avenue to bring about his sovereign purposes in the world. The other is that man uses prayer as an instrument to bring about his will in heaven and on earth.” Okay, I’m not a theologian but the previous sentences seem a little over simplified. Further, “Open Theism is the theology that God does not know the future and he is, therefore, “open” in his relationships and dealings with people. Because of this belief, Open Theists claim that prayer can change God’s mind. Greg Boyd, one of the spearheads of Open Theism, says that this view of prayer helps God decide or change his mind, since he does not know everything. E.M. Bounds, the 19th Century Methodist minister, wrote, “Prayer affects God more powerfully than His own purposes. God’s will, words and purposes are all subject to review when the mighty potencies of prayer come in. How mighty prayer is with God may be seen as he readily sets aside His own fixed and declared purposes in answer to prayer” (the author’s emphasis). http://jamespruch.wordpress.com/2008/03/04/does-prayer-change-gods-mind/ Again, not a theologian, but aren’t the statements “God does not know the future” and “Prayer effects God more powerfully than his own purposes” well, just wrong?

Numbers 23:19 (NASB) states “God is not a man, that He should lie, nor a son of man, that He should repent; has He said, and will He not do it? Or has He spoken, and will He not make it good?” Yet Jonah 3:10 states, “When God saw what they did and how they turned from their evil ways, he relented and did not bring on them the destruction he had threatened.” (TNIV)
So which is it? I say again, “I have no understanding of things that are not understandable;” but I can see a pattern when I read scripture. A pattern of religious ritual in an attempt to earn God’s favor and to manipulate Him by man’s own actions into doing the things that man desired. Following God’s decrees just enough to look good, to appear obedient to the world, just enough to maybe say: “God you owe me, I’m your chosen people and I’m keeping your law, burning incense toYou and sacrificing burnt offerings on Your altar. See I’m doing my part, now You do Yours!”

I believe these, man’s self serving actions, are dealt with in Jeremiah 6:19-20, 7:21 and Amos 5:21-26 which states, "I hate, I despise your religious festivals; I cannot stand your assemblies. Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings I will not accept them. Though you bring choice fellowship offerings, I will have no regard for them. Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps. But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream! Did you bring me sacrifices or offering forty years in the wilderness, house of Israel? You have lifted up the shrine of your king, the pedestal of your idols, the star of your god, which you made for yourselves.”

Maybe it's the condition of the heart? When the Lord is informing Moses of His plans to destroy Israel, Moses’ concern was not for himself or to make himself look good in the eyes of man or even to be exalted by God! Moses heart, his concern was for the Lord and the Lord’s reputation. Exodus 32:9-14 reads, "I have seen these people," the LORD said to Moses, "and they are a stiff-necked people. Now leave me alone so that my anger may burn against them and that I may destroy them. Then I will make you into a great nation.” (My emphasis) But Moses sought the favor of the LORD his God. "LORD," he said, "why should your anger burn against your people, whom you brought out of Egypt with great power and a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, 'It was with evil intent that he brought them out, to kill them in the mountains and to wipe them off the face of the earth'? Turn from your fierce anger; relent and do not bring disaster on your people. Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac and Israel, to whom you swore by your own self: 'I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and I will give your descendants all this land I promised them, and it will be their inheritance forever.' "Then the LORD relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened.”

Jesus, our perfect example, who lived a rich prayer life as detailed throughout the gospels, not only instructed us regarding how to pray, but reminded us in Matthew 6:8b that “your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.” These words of Jesus re-confirm for me the sovereignty of God. That He does have foreknowledge of all things, that His nature is to be concerned for and aware of our needs and is the best argument for me against many of the statements of Open Theism.

The Bible tells me that God is pleased with the prayers of my heart! Psalm 141:2 tells us that our prayers are incense to God and the lifting up hands is like the evening sacrifice. And, that while the Lord detests the sacrifice of the wicked, the prayer of the upright pleases Him (Proverbs 15:8).

So, no I can’t tell you with total certainty that prayers will change the mind of the God; what I can tell you is that my plan is to seek His will and His heart as much as I humanly can and when it’s beyond my human ability I plan to ask Him to bring me closer to Him outside of that ability. Through pray I’m going to worship Him, seek His guidance and continue to make petition to Him. James 4:2 says, “You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. You do not have because you do not ask God.”

But my friend Kevin, I think said it best last night. It’s like dealing with toddlers. We usually have a plan for what we are and are not going to give them, but sometimes just because we love them so much they ask for more and our hearts open and we relent, and give them sometime good. Isn’t that what Jesus was talking about when He asked, if your son asks for a fish will you give him a snake instead? (Luke 11)

Tension between the Two!

2009-08-25T12:59:00.000-07:00

I am currently the Site Coordinator for VLI at VCC , a volunteer role that allows me the privilege of being able to view the classes and Weekend Intensives even though I’ve already graduated and am no longer a tuition paying student. So last night, since as usual there wasn’t much on TV, I decided to watch the first two Systematic Theology II lectures being taught for the first time by Homero Garcia, Ph.D.

Now Roger Olson teaches Systematic Theology I and has done so for the past three summers that I’ve been involved with VLI. The book he authors “The Mosaic of Christian Belief: Twenty Centuries of Unity & Diversity” is one of reference books recommended for the topic. After viewing the first Intensive, One of the students (Adam) mentioned to me that he really needed to re-think some of his beliefs, to dig in and unpack further teaching on the subject as Roger made some pretty compiling points for his theology and had basically rocked Adam’s world.

I wonder what my friend Adam is thinking now after viewing last weekend’s Intensive by Dr. Garcia?

Oh did I fail to mention that Dr. Garcia is a 5 point Calvinist, while Dr. Olson is thoroughly Armenian? Okay students and Professors hold on to your seats cause Q & A was a wild ride!

So, why the wild ride? A quick look at the different theologies will bring that into focus (the Reformed side represents the Calvinist view and the Remonstrant side represents the Armenian view).

Reformed Views (TULIP) (monergism)

1) Total Depravity
· The fall has affected every aspect of human nature; so, people are totally dependent on God’s grace to seek God or to will or do good.

2) Unconditonal election
· God sovereignly predestines some fallen people to be saved.

3) Limited atonement
· Christ’s atoning death on the cross was done only for those he unconditionally elects or predestines for salvation.

4) Irresistible grace
· The elect cannot resist God’s grace. God’s effectual call can only be responded to with repentance and faith.

5) Perseverance of the saints
· Those unconditionally elected by God to be saved will persevere in grace and not fall from it.

Remonstrant Views (synergism)

1) Not total depravity
· Humans still have free will.
· They can choose or reject God.

2) Election is conditioned by faith
· God knew who would freely believe In Him. Election is conditioned on what a person would do.

3) Unlimited atonement
· Christ died for all human beings.
· Although he died for all, only those who believe in Him are saved.

4) Grace can be rejected
Humans are free to choose and therefore can resist the grace of God

5) Believers can lose their salvation by failing to keep up their faith.

Starting to get the picture? Those “strongly” in one camp or the other can get pretty darn emotional when this topic comes up with both sides evoking this answer to seemingly unanswerable questions, “Well that’s the mystery of God.”

Now I was raised as a “Free Will” Baptist and when I first came into contact with a 5 point Calvinist I was amazed that there were people out there who actually believed that God pre-ordained those who were to be saved and those who were not to be saved. That just wasn’t the God I knew! I mean what about John 3:16? “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” Or, 2 Peter 3:9? “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but desiring that everyone to come to repentance.” Then, as my Calvinist friend argued, what about Romans 8:29 & 30; “For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.” Well these verses put my mind into a tail spin especially as I am assured by Steve Robbins (Pastor and VLI Director) an ancient Greek scholar that the word translated as predestined is indeed translated correctly and does not mean simply fore knowledge. WOW! How do I ever unpack all of this and many more Bible verses that seem to set in contradiction to one or the other of these theologies? Do I fall back on the “mysteries of God” statement and just let it go at that?

When faced with this dilemma my mind keeps wondering back to the covenant that God made with Abram. Let’s begin with Genesis 12:1-3 which states “The LORD had said to Abram, "Go from your country, your people and your father's household to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you and whoever curses you I will curse; and all the peoples on earth will be blessed through you.” Psalms 135: 4 states “For the LORD hath chosen Jacob unto Himself, and Israel for his peculiar treasure.” So when I read these verses (coupled with the teachings of my youth, how I was raised to believe) I can see that God did choose a person (Abram) and through him a people (Israel) and because it was the Old Testament and the old covenant never really saw how it might fold into the new covenant and this question of Calvinist vs. Armenian.

Let’s visit again the portion of the verse above that states, “and all the peoples on earth will be blessed through you.” Now for years and years I thought that this was just a prophecy of Jesus and didn’t really focus too very much past that thought. But what if I look closer at that statement? What if I see not only the prophecy but also what it meant to Abram in that day? Yes it was a prophecy of Jesus, but it was also a reason that Abram was elected. He and his seed were “elected” by God to be a blessing to all the peoples of the earth. Could it be, that by electing Abram, God was not rejecting everyone else but was raising a priestly people proclaiming the source of blessings, to proclaim God to the nations? That God’s purpose was that all nations should come to Him even under the old covenant?

Well, it seems to me that God called Abram and his descendents to be his “peculiar” treasure (one translation of the word peculiar means moveable); God also gives to Abraham and his seed a land flowing with milk and honey that just so happens to be geographically positioned so that in the Ancient Near East if you wanted to trade you pretty much had to pass through that region – thus bringing the nations into contact with Abraham’s seed (God’s priestly people).
When Israel was given the law, it was not set out as a path to salvation (they were already elected to this through Abram who’s faith was credited as righteousness; see Genesis 15:6 – not who’s keeping of the law was credited as righteousness). The law was given to set God’s people, His treasure apart, to show them how to live in a pagan world. As I understand it, not given so that the nations could see they were “exclusively" God's, but to be the highlighter of how God’s people live and to draw the nations (inclusive) to the one true God.

So what happens if we take this election of Israel and lay it over these two theologies? Does it illuminate or does it bring up more questions? Could it be “both / and” instead of “either / or?” Could it be that yes God elects, not so He can reject others, but so that these elect can be His priestly people; called to proclaim the light of the one true God to the nations (the unsaved).

I haven’t presented this well and what I’ve written doesn’t totally express exactly what I started out to communicate. But as always, I have more questions than answers and know that I need to do loads more studying and unpacking to bring this idea into sharper focus and I would love to know your thoughts on the topic.

One thing stated by Dr. Garcia I am in 100% agreement. He told a story of a pastor's response to the question of eternal security as detailed in Calvin’s 5th point. The pastor said, well I can live my life one of two ways. I can decide that because I believe that through election I have eternal security I can live my life anyway I want. Or, I can live my life as though there is no eternal security staying focused on God and my relationship to Him. When I die I will find out the truth. If there is eternal security and I’ve lived my life as though there wasn’t I’m still going to be with Jesus. But, if there is no eternal security and I’ve lived my life in sin because I thought there was – what a horrible mistake I’ve made!

It Involves all the Senses!

2009-08-23T17:23:00.000-07:00

First of all I guess you might need to know a little about, well me. You see, I have a tendency to latch onto an idea or concept, not being able to let it down until I’ve discovered as much information about it as possible. Now this might sound noble or outright studious if they weren’t questions, ideas and concepts like why do we call “a toast” a toast? Or, why does something I love taste thoroughly awful if I’m expecting to taste something totally different? From the former questions research I was led to the question “Why do we clink our glasses together during a toast?” Starting to get the picture, the questions of my mind lead me down many paths and into many rabbit holes and it’s always been like that for me.

I remember as a little girl I just could not get my mind around the concept that God actually wrote the Bible. Here’s where I got confused. I was assured there was a God and even then I thoroughly believed in Him. But I’d never seen Him in person, EVER. Yet I was supposed to believe that He came down to earth and wrote the Bible. Here’s how that picture looked in my mind; God, the Ancient of Days, with long gray cottony hair and beard, in flowing white robes, with old man soft wrinkled hands setting at a desk or table with a quill pen and ink pot writing the Bible page by page! This picture led me to the question, “How did He get it published in a time when there weren’t any publishing houses (or even the technology to publish a book)?

So I decided to find out and proceeded to ask the wisest person I knew at the time, Mom. Here’s how that conversation went. “Mom, did God write the Bible? Yes honey He did. How did He do that, did He come to earth and write it out page by page? No sweetie, He had people here on earth write it for Him. Well, how did they know what He wanted them to write? Well He told them. Did He come down to earth to have a conversation face to face with them? No, He led them to the thoughts that they wrote down. How does He lead someone to write something, you think He might lead me to write something like the Bible someday? Well honey the Bible is already written so He probably isn’t going to need for you to write any more of it but with those who did He just put the information in their mind. So Mom, there was more than one person writing the Bible? Yes there was! How did they know which part they were supposed to write? Well I don’t think they worried about which part they were writing, they just wrote what God told them to write. Mom? Goodness Peggy, go ask your Dad!”

Now as crazy as it seems I’ve since had these type of conversations with church leaders, where I simply just did not understand what they were teaching me and the conversation was very frustrating (I’m sure for them as well as me) with me in the end metaphorically being sent to, “Go ask Dad!”

For a moment here let’s go back to my original question stated above regarding why the glasses clink together during a toast or the sharing of a glass of wine? Well I found some solid background taking it back to both Greek and Roman times, linking it with the poisoning of a someone’s drink – but the explanation I found and liked the best is this. When we share a glass of wine, as we pour the wine we experience it’s rich color which involves our sense of sight, we pick up the glass (which involves our sense of touch) swirling it in the glass to release the full aroma involving our sense of smell, right before we take our first sip of the liquid (involving our sense of taste) we clink our glasses. Now without the “clink” the only sense that would not be involved is our sense hearing….thus, today we clink the glass so that all of our senses are involved. It involves all of our senses.

Okay I’m sure, since you’ve stayed with me until now, that you are asking yourself what does that clink of that glass have to do with my childhood questions about the Bible? The answer is simple, for me to fully understand the answer to that question, and many other Biblical concepts I struggle with, I need to have all my senses involved. I need answers based in something other than someone’s beliefs and faith that it is just true, like Mom’s well meaning answers so many years ago. I desire to be able to converse with people in ways that defend my beliefs, yes I need faith (Mom had loads and loads of faith) but I need an understanding or at least have a chance of coming to an understanding about what God is actually saying to me through His word.I need an education that involves all my senses to empower me to search out these answers for myself and I found that here at VCC attending the Vineyard Leadership Institute at a Distance’s two year academic program.

Vineyard Leadership Institute (VLI) was created to integrate hands-on training, ministry experience, spiritual formation, and academic understanding with an uncompromising commitment to excellence in biblical-theological, ministerial and spiritual-formational training. Without sounding like an advertisement it is important to note that VLI’s instructors are experienced pastors, teachers and recognized theologians who are experts in the fields they teach. Professors qualified and experienced to teach at university and graduate levels. Teaching courses on interpreting scripture, church planting, leadership, preaching and teaching, power ministry, counseling, spirituality and many others. It is an empowering, distinctive, cutting-edge curriculum that allows students pragmatic training in church leadership as well as challenging studies into spirituality and theology.VLI has advantages that most traditional seminaries do not offer, training students practically, spiritually and academically for ministry in the context of the local church.

As a student I enjoyed the benefits of hands-on ministry training, developing a relationship with a mentor from the pastoral staff and at the same time receiving excellent-theological instruction.Was it difficult? Yes! Was it time consuming? Yes! Was it a blessing? Yes! Yes! Yes! It involved all my senses and thus has developed my abilities to search out the answers and to read the Bible in context, cause as Steve Robbins (Pastor and VLI Director) says, “It’s all context dependent!” and “ It can never mean for me what it would never have meant for the original audience!”

Oh, something I figured was true – but I also discovered along the way, Mom was absolutely correct, God did write the Bible!

Illumination

2009-08-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

When ever I get in a hurry, am questioning God on His obvious lack of keeping me informed or giving me vision; He gentles brings me back to an incident that occurred about 9 or 10 years ago.

It was a warm, breezy fall evening. Just that time of day as the sun is dimming and twilight is just falling, with deep, lush and long shadows. Danielle (my daughter) and I decided that it was the perfect time for me to ride my bicycle alongside her while she ran. I hadn’t had the bike out in a while, but figured all was well, so I hopped on and we took off together. The plan was for me to take it easy and pace alongside her. Only problem was, I couldn’t keep up. Even taking into consideration that I was definitely not in shape, this didn’t make any logical sense. I was riding in low gear on smooth, level terrain and that ride was totally gruesome for me! Especially considering the fact that I wasn’t about to admit defeat and confess that my 21 year old daughter could outrun me, with me on a bicycle no less!With heart pounding, face blood red, gasping for each breath and I'm sure with elevated blood pressure I forced myself on. After begging Danielle to not run off and leave me (if she wasn’t there who was going to administer CPR for her hard-headed Mom?) we finally and with great relief made it home. I gimped off the bike, so proud I didn't fall, pushed the bike into the garage, and turned on the light only to discover I had made that entire bike trip with two totally flat tires! You can surely imagine just how silly I felt.

Once I had started on that ride I wouldn’t stop. No matter what the consequences, I was bound and determined to finish my task, my chosen path. Had I just turned on the light before the ride, allowed the illumination in, I would have seen that I was not fully equipped to successfully make that journey.

The bible says, “If a man desires to do His will (God's pleasure), he will know (have the needed illumination to recognize, and can tell for himself) whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking from myself and of my own accord and on my own authority.” John 7:17 Amplified Bible (AMP).