Communion and Thanks.

The last two times I've taken communion at church, I have had quite the experiences.  One was at least a month ago. Our pastor was speaking on the restoration of broken dreams, broken lives, etc.  I can't remember all the details perfectly at this moment, but the three seasons he spoke about that revolved around these broken dreams went something like this.

When God speaks a word over your life, you go through three seasons. First, it seems IMPOSSIBLE. Then, it is DIFFICULT.  And then, it is FINISHED.

The next thing I remember was communion being passed around the sanctuary. The bread got to me, and I about lost it. The presence of God was so heavy and so thick, this pregnant lady just about dropped to the ground immediately. He was filling my empty spaces before I even got the bread in my mouth.  I looked over at David as if to say, "Hey--God's got me in a beautiful headlock, if I pass out, I'm ok" but it did no good because he was in his own God headlock...catching his own wave of Restoration.

The next time we were at church, it was our turn to serve the communion.  After my incident the previous week, I was hoping that I could keep it together just enough to actually pass out the goods to everyone else---without spilling grape juice all over the carpet.

Thankfully, all went well.

Until I reached the communion cart.

I started to put the leftover bread and juice back on the cart, and the next thing I heard was our pastor saying something about Fire.  You know, God, our friend--the All Consuming Fire.

Before I could even attempt to keep it together, I was holding onto that cart for dear life. Heat washed over me, and my body was shaking. Fire, it was. "Oh God, consume me. Burn up the dross. Let me burn."  It was a fantastic prayer in the moment, and He was giving me tangible evidence that He was answering.

A few weeks go by, and that Fire started to manifest in my life....you know practically.  That's how God often works.

And you know what I started to do?

Complain.

"Oh, God. This hurts. I'm mad, I'm frustrated. I can't take this anymore! Whine, whine, whine."

And then it occurred to me. Whining is often my default position....you know, right before God totally shows off. Kinda of like some friends I like to read about, the Israelites. They'd be wandering in the Wilderness starving, and then God would show up with food from Heaven. They'd look at the manna and say "What is it?" Then, they'd complain...wanting something ELSE."

Same here, Israelites. I understand your futility. Default position: "Whine."

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a total heathen. I whine in the midst of grasping for Faith. Desperately grasping for Faith.  But the thing is, in order for that faith to be pure and restful and joyful, I have to be burned.

Alive.

All the things that keep me from moving forward have to fall away. It doesn't mean that God isn't coming through with the promise He spoke. Remember the stages? Impossible, Difficult, Finished.

It just reminds me not to be in such a hurry. One of the things I've been learning the last 5 years is to relish in the moment. I've been soaking up the simple things. Cadbury Creme Eggs. A curly-Q toddler and her big dog. Hiccups from the baby in my belly. Crying really good when I'm upset. Breaking out into song...in public.  And you know what, it's changed me. Transformed me.

When the going gets tough, I often tend to still default into whining. And to a certain extent, there are emotions that definitely need to be released.  I used to be an emotion stuffer. I've got about 21 years of unresolved "stuff" making it's way out over the last 9 years. That's a pretty big deal.

So, when I get to the point of "feeling", I allow it. It must come out.  But when I get to the point of whining, then it's time to re-evaluate.  That's usually where the Fire comes in. We go from Glory to Glory. Life to Life.

The life I was leading was serving me just fine for the time being. It was where I was at.  And, now, God's offered me a promotion. In His graciousness, I accepted the challenge. I prayed the prayer.  And now, He's answering it.

And I have yet another chance to respond.

It is tempting to pout. "Hurry up. You're not moving fast enough." But how rude is that?

Very.

So, instead, I'm attempting to be proactive in my ways of gratitude for the manna He is dropping in my lap minute by minute.  A lot of you have probably heard of the book "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. Oh, is it good! I'm reading it with a few of my friends currently, and we are in the beginning stages of capturing our thoughts by giving thanks instead of saying "gimme gimme gimme".

I'll leave with you a line from Chapter 3, which I just finished yesterday. She's been reading my mail, I think.  Or, rather, I'm reading hers. Or both.

"I, too, had read it often, the oft-quoted verse: "And give thanks for everything to God the Father in the name our our Lord Jesus Christ" (Ephesians 5:20). And I, too, would nod and say straight-faced, "I'm thankful for everything." But in this counting gifts, to one thousand, more, I discover that slapping a sloppy brush of thanksgiving over everything in my life leaves me deeply thankful for very few things in my life.  A lifetime of sermons on "thanks in all things" and the shelves sagging with books on these things and I testify: life-changing gratitude does not fasten to life unless nailed through with one very specific nail at a time.

Little nails and a steady hammer can rebuild a life--eucharisteo (communion) precedes the miracle."

And so, when I look around at life and what I might feel like is not happening the way I'd like it to, I go back to that first sermon. Impossible, difficult, finished. We're definitely passed the impossible stage. I know it's possible now. I got through the demon who was guarding his territory. Now, we're in difficult.  And instead of whining, I want to choose joy. I want to be thankful for what I have now. And in this thankfulness, I can excitedly expect the best of God to move in even greater measure.

Because that's who He is. He is the I AM. Provider of all my needs.

So, with that, I leave you on TGIF! Thank God it's Friday. I have a whole weekend of exciting things to look forward to. On Sunday, I will lovingly embrace my eucharisteo.  And when Monday comes, I will have just as many miracles to look forward to--even if they pose more difficult than the weekend.

I've already started my list of One Thousand Gifts....and I'm not about to stop now.

Woo hoo!



"Rejoice in the Lord always (delight, gladden yourselves in Him), and again I say rejoice!" Philippians 4:4

(Yes, I definitely did see that 44!)

Half-Way There.

I started to write this blog almost a week ago.  I got the idea for this particular blog probably over two weeks ago. I put "blog" on my To Do list even though there was no way I would forget to write it.  It's been on my insides, gnawing away at my soul.  And yet, I haven't been able to find the words to actually write it.  I'd have one idea and then realize that it wasn't really going that direction, only to get another idea and realize it wasn't really going that direction either.  In all reality, it has been a string of revelation over the last few weeks...in between tears, and joys, and hormones. Doctors say that hormones surge yet again in a pregnant women's third trimester.  My husband is their witness. Poor guy. It sure is a good thing he loves me and knows that I usually don't live in "crazy town" all the time. When I sharply responded to him that "3rd trimester hormones increase at a rapid rate--just so you know" after he simply asked why I was being so "mean", I had to laugh. And so did he. And then I let my stress go. Just as amazing as this Easter dotes me with momentary lapses of inexpressible joy, I think the suffering of Lent was in close second the two weeks.

Holy Moly.

Rolling away the stone is no joke, people. I'm exhausted.

Being un-offended is not as easy as it sounds.  For those of you just catching up, I started making a Red List of people in my life I needed to forgive. Ouch. You might not want to do that nonchalantly. It will then rock your world---because in the midst of you moving toward forgiveness with them, all hell breaks loose.  The enemy pulls out the "big guns".  Even if you haven't talked to them in years, or months, or whatever, those offenses seem to come crawling or slamming right back into your face--or shall I say, my face.

As it all started to pile up, I had yet again--a choice.  It was like a stanky-breathed demon was there sitting on my shoulder-- "You really want to let that go? That was really awful. And you were blindsided, you had no right to be treated that way."

"Um, yes please, I'd still like to let it go...especially cause your breath is rank! Now please leave me the freak alone, so I can get back to work!"

And so, after about of a week of that, I was finally able to move forward a little bit easier.  That stanky breathed thing was just guarding his territory, scared about where I was busy going.  To Skull Hill.  He knows what happens after Good Friday.

Three days of silence. Rest.

And then,

Easter.

The way I see it, I'm at a turning point in my little journey. I've gotten through what feels like the worst of this transition. The Bible says we go from glory to glory. Yes, indeed.  And in between those two glories is usually fire.

Fire has this brilliant quality to it. It is warm and inviting, we can make smores with it, it cooks our food.  And yet, it is All Consuming. God was often described as the All Consuming Fire.  In His love, we are burned alive.  The dross can then be easily smudged off, and what remains is a beautiful, shiny piece of gold.

Easter.

Resurrection.

There is communion with Jesus in suffering that is so intimately divine.  It's not punishment. It's sharing.  We often have looked at our lives going haywire and wonder "Am I a horrible person? Why is this happening? What did I do wrong?" When in all reality, it's an invitation.  To share....

In brokenness, in humility, in forgiveness.

We can only be intimate with someone to the extent that we share ourselves. To the extent of our vulnerability with another person.  Jesus is no different. He is not high and lofty, He is closer than a brother. If anyone knows suffering, He does.

And if anyone knows Joy, He does.

Remember? Those who have often experienced the most pain in life are often those, who when they choose to, can receive the most joy.

I don't know about you, but I bought myself a 4 pack of Cadbury Creme Eggs on Sunday.

Joy.

So far, I've eaten 2. I'm halfway there. And I am so looking forward to savoring the next 2. I know I'll crave them at just the right time I need them.

Nails couldn't hold him down, and they won't hold me down either. Nor will stanky breathed demons who are trying to guard their territory and make me turn around.

I'm busting in.

You're busting in.

Easter is coming.  Easter is here.

Happy Tuesday, ya'll!!

(More coming.....soon.)

Early Easter: Part 2

 ⁴³ “You have heard that it has been said, ‘You must love your neighbor and hate those who hate you.’ ⁴⁴ But I tell you, love those who hate you. (*Respect and give thanks for those who say bad things to you. Do good to those who hate you.) Pray for those who do bad things to you and who make it hard for you. ⁴⁵ Then you may be the sons of your Father Who is in heaven. His sun shines on bad people and on good people. He sends rain on those who are right with God and on those who are not right with God. ⁴⁶ If you love those who love you, what reward can you expect from that? Do not even the tax-gatherers do that? ⁴⁷ If you say hello only to the people you like, are you doing any more than others? The people who do not know God do that much. ⁴⁸ You must be perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect. (Matthew 5:43-48)


Yup, I'm starting with a Bible verse--because it has been proven to me yet again that I don't react very well when I don't have my spirit nourished.


In all reality, when we're persecuted or said bad things to or just flat out ignored, it's pretty frustrating.  Even if we're Jesus, we're going to have to work through some emotions--because it's not right to be treated that way.  It's also not right that there is rape, and abuse, and violence.  Justice definitely needs to be served.


And yet, the more and more I learn about Justice, the more and more it looks like Reconciliation. See HERE.  And, honestly, that is not what society teaches us--and it's also not usually what most of us have been taught growing up.  We're usually taught one of three ways: 


If someone hits you, hit him back.


Or


If someone hits you, just take it (because Lord knows you did something wrong).


Or


If someone hits you, get away as fast as you can.


Now, let me give you a fantastic, personal illustration of this.  I may or may not be exaggerating a little to explain my point.


One day, a blonde headed gal is walking along in the sunshine, strolling her curly Q-ed daughter, holding her sweet butterball of a belly...soaking in the reality of a really great day.  Out of a nowhere, a big dump truck recklessly starts driving toward her.  As she starts to cover herself, the driver of this dumptruck practically runs her and her babies over.  Then, the passenger in the truck flips her the bird.


As if.


The reality is, she should be mad. She has every right to be mad.  But after she releases her emotions-- preferably in a healthy way (you don't definitely don't want those things stuck inside), it's her choice as to how she wants to move on.  She can choose to stay mad, isolate protectively, and not move forward--never taking another walk outside with her babies.  Or, she can utilize her free gift.  The cross.  She's been a dumptruck at some time in her life as well--even if it was never to this extent.  And, as she starts to understand more and more of the unconditional love of her Father, she can give out more of that unconditional love to others.  Jesus died saying "Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."


We sure don't.


Because religion sure has gotten in the way of salvation.  I say "religion" in reference to the Pharisee's in Scripture.  The ones who say holiness is a matter of self-effort, the ones who judge others for mistakes, the ones who have a plank in their eye while pointing out the speck in their brother's eye.  Pharisee's are demeaning, belittling, and they crucified Jesus.


Jesus, on the other hand, was full of humility--and not false, self-mutilation humility. Real humility is strength and confidence.  There's no need to feel important from others because a humble person knows that he is his Father's son.  He knows who he belongs to. And because of that, he is willing to lay his life down for his brothers and he can also graciously pull life and hope out of others, because death can't hold him down.  This is Jesus.


And yet, when people started to abuse Jesus' lifegiving advice--like resting, and not working or selling things, on the Sabbath--he got mad. He threw their tables UPSIDE DOWN.  Why? Because they took Him for granted.  They took His gift for granted. He was about to die a horrific death for them, and they weren't even listening in the slightest bit.


So, after I got flipped the bird, I threw my table upside down. I was ticked.  (I didn't react quite as perfectly as Jesus though--just an FYI. I'm still a dumptrucking, table thrower. I'm a work in progress.). And then, I started the process of letting it go.  Time to hug that cross and watch Him rise.


I know a Pastor named Kent Maddox in Alabama.  He once shared the story of how he met Jesus.  He was a drug dealer, feeding his wife's drug addiction. It was a real mess.  Somehow he ended up in an old school Pentecostal church.  And wouldn't you know it, there was an altar call.  Before he knew it, he had stood up. He walked up to that altar not even completely realizing what the heck he was doing, but he knew he needed to do it.  He knew he needed this man named Jesus. Surrounding him were several elders from this church, and they laid hands on him to pray for him.  As he hilariously retells his own story, he says "All I knew was that it got really hot. Really hot. I was on the floor with Pentecostal preachers screaming prayers at me. Some of them were screaming "Hang on!" and the others were screaming "Let go!"'


Isn't it so true? We need to hang on and let go all at the same time.  The only thing steady in our whole equation of life is Jesus.


Religion won't save us, it will kill us.  We must learn Love instead. And Love was proven in the Red. Blood. He paid the price.  Good Friday is called Good for a reason.  It is the beautiful paradox of hanging on and letting go.  It's the exchange of death for life.  He was perfect. We, in and of ourselves, are not.


When He meets our imperfection, it is beautiful. It is full of Grace and Truth.  And the purpose is then to give that Grace and Truth to others.  Even when they crucify you.  Even when they say bad things to you. Even when they are violent toward you. Even when they drive recklessly toward you with their dumptrucks and then flip you the bird.


It's that pain that you've carried--that I've carried--until the Joy comes. Until the Easter is made tangible in our hearts. Easter is already here, but it's our choice to grab ahold of it now.


Hang on to Him, let go of everything else.


We can lose our religion.......together.


I love it when I get Good News!!


Happy Friday!