Lady in Red.

There's a Misty Edwards song that I love that goes something like this: "He's gonna turn it all around, just wait and see. He's gonna make everything beautiful just in time."

Oh, yes. It it what we have clung to the last 9 months at our house.  Our sweet Baby Red is coming just in time.  This pregnancy has had it's similarities and it's differences from Ella.  All in all, I think it's been physically easier--except for the first trimester (you don't want to know)...and yet emotionally and spiritually, this baby girl sure is a mover and a shaker.

I often wonder if many people really understand what it takes to carry another human spirit. Sure, we're pregnant. We create a human being in our bodies and carry it until it's born--that's a miracle in and of itself. And an understatement.

But with carrying a human being, we also carry a human spirit.  We carry a double dose of God for 9 months. Double portion. Double grace.

She's changed me.  And I don't take her existence in my womb lightly.

She's changed our circumstances. She's changed the way I look at things. Her spirit interacting with mine, pulling out the fibers of who I was created to be--long before I may have even realized it.  And not only mine, but everyone else that she comes into contact with.

That's just how valuable Life is.

I often sit and watch Ella. Her prophetic nature is so wise and discerning. She has so much to say and so much to express--if given the opportunity.  Oftentimes, I end up realizing it is more in my responsibility to foster how she was created rather than to "parent" her.  Yes, there are definitely times she needs discipline, but most of the time, she just needs the space to be nurtured.  The way I see it, she's closer to Heaven than I am. I've had 30 years of backtracking under my belt--but her? She was just there.  And her uncanny wisdom flows like a River...

That's how I feel about this baby girl coming.  Her spirit has already shifted our family more towards the supernatural and away from the natural.  Her very presence shaking things up.  Her essence so close to the Creator that when she arrives, it will change us forever. Isn't that just like God?

Throughout my pregnancy, she's caused us to take more risks that we thought we ever would.  The intercession and passion she carries is unlike what we've known up to this point. We've jumped into the abyss of the unknown--into the land of Faith.  If red is the color of Jesus, then she is teaching us that. The unpredictable, yet full of nurture, Jesus. Red.

No one would have thought He would have died that death--even though He told us He would.

And, no one, thought He'd come back to life to tell about it.

And, yet, we all do.  Or--we all have the opportunity to do so.

It's like carrying a baby.  First trimester, you just feel sick.  And no one even knows your pregnant. Your immune system takes a toll because this human it's helping to create sucks all the living energy and umph out of you.  You hold onto that porcelain throne for dear life.  And for "fear" of not making it through that first trimester, you usually only tell a few people what special beauty you are carrying.  You're just laying your life down--for this beautiful hope to come forth.

And then comes the second trimester.  You are refreshed--and alive! The bump is taking shape, and it's becoming obvious that life is forming.  As you grow, you prepare.  And more people start asking about the bowling ball that is protruding from your shirt.  You can then find out if it's a boy or girl--if you want.  You can think of names and identify how God has marked her character.

And then it's time for the third trimester.  The land of waiting and getting huge.  Your pelvis starts to loosen, and heartburn is your best friend.  Water is your saving grace. You drink and drink and drink--to keep away the swelling.  Desperate for Living Water.  Oh, Jesus. You're the only one getting this baby out of my body.  I think I've said the phrase "Sweet Jesus" more in the last month than I ever have---ever.  He's all we've got.


As if the physical portion isn't enough, there's also the emotional side and the spiritual side.  We are three parts: spirit, soul, and body.  Yes, my body houses her body--but it also houses her emotions--and it houses her spirit.  Her spirit. That place where she connects with God. I house that?

Yes.  It's the great miracle of creation--and creativity.  When God said, "Let there be..."

And so I learn to follow His example.  Dying a death and birthing a life. But somewhere in the following, I realize that following isn't even the best term anymore.  Somewhere in the process, I've finally and graciously realized what He's been telling me all along--I'm no longer following. I'm co-laboring.  We are partners---connected in divine Union.  There is no separation between us.  We are one.  He took care of it all--no need to "follow". We are married.  By Red.


So, instead of my false rationalization of Faith that is often mixed with fear and unbelief and false humility, I just jump in. Obedience is no longer my guiding point--but a steward. Instead, Passion has taken over. I'm plunged into His very essence.  It's the most beautiful of all Love Stories.  Being one with God.  Coming Home.


My natural body meeting His supernatural body.  Fully God and Fully Man.

Jesus.


The bread and the wine.


He's been a co-conspirator with my baby girl.  Loving me Life.  Loving our family to Life.

Oh, Sweet Jesus.  We restfully and excitedly wait for Your arrival.  For her arrival.

There is so much good to embrace now--and so much more to look forward to.......

See you soon, sweet girl.

Creation.

One of my favorite parts of creativity is restoration.  Making something fun or beautiful or exotic is fine in and of itself, I guess.  But if there isn't much meaning behind it, it is really pretty lifeless.

When you pour your heart and your soul into creativity, though, it has great purpose and eternal meaning. It's kind of like restoring furniture.  You find this old and tattered couch in need of Stanley Steemer, a detox, and new fabric. Some people might look at it and say "just throw it away".  And then there are those creative few, who can look at it, and see the Future.  At the moment, I'm currently working on a similar project. It's my first big Pinterest one! We were so graciously given the most comfortable loveseat in the whole entire world for Ella's nursery. The only problem was, it didn't really match her room. It worked ok, but I really wanted to re-upholster it.  Not having any clue how to do so until Pinterest came along, I'm now working on a loveseat cover for it as we have placed it into Baby Red's room--and I couldn't be happier.  David asked me if it was too much for me to do while I was pregnant and that we could just buy one, but I said "no". I really wanted to do this; it's part of my nesting.

Because Restoration is part of my DNA.


Every time I wake up in the middle of the night to nurse my baby girl, I will sit and rest in this chair--with the beautifully made chair cover--and I will be full. I will have seen God's hand at work.


One of the most wonderful phrases that I've ever heard came right out of the mouth of Jesus. "Behold, I make all things new." (Revelation 21:5)

When it came out at the theatre, I remember going with a very hurting and angry friend to see the Passion of the Christ. Our relationship had really gone through the ringer. Throughout the movie, he was having a hard time seeing the screen. A little before the part in the movie where Christ is carrying the Cross while being whipped and mocked, He falls to the ground.  His mother comes running toward Him, and He holds her face and says "Behold, I make all things new." I remember praying so hard that my friend would see this part--not because I wanted to change him, or because I wanted him to follow my agenda, or because I wanted to fix him--even though he had pulled some whammies on me.  I just wanted him to see.  I wanted him to see his potential and his worth. About five minutes before this scene came on, he found his glasses in his pocket.  And I cried as we watched this very scene together....HERE.

Jesus can redeem anything--even the most hurtful and traumatic situations in our lives.


That movie was just a beginning. As I let go of my own offenses and bitterness, I saw this friend blossom.  He started to become who he was created to be. He believed...in his own way...that Jesus could make all things new.  And I did nothing to make it happen, except give him an invitation to a movie.


God is gracious enough to include us in the process of restoration. We get to be partakers in His divine nature--if we want to.

But if we really want to see transformation in our lives and in our cities, we have to let our agendas go. We have to drop our politics and also our struggles for power.  When we do that, we can truly create lasting change.


This is why I love creativity so much. It is full of power if used restoratively.  I saw a bumper sticker the other day that said "Make Art. Not War." My thoughts exactly.  If we are humble enough to lay our own lives down, just as Jesus did, we can see Him make all things new in and through us.  We can watch Him raise us to new life; we can be resurrected with Him.

Oh, there have been many times I have been whipped and mocked while carrying a cross. In fact, it happened yet again this week.  The very person I was laying my life down for--spit on me.  And it wasn't the first time.

At that moment, I had two choices. Get angry and offended--and snarl back.  Or choose to see the best in that person--and ask God how I could speak life in response. For a second, I got angry. I thought to myself "We're not past this yet? Really?" And then, I remembered Jesus.

And I let it go.

Once I remembered the well of Forgiveness given to me, I replied to this particular situation. In love. With truth and life.  I didn't ignore the wrong doing, I spoke into it. And then I pulled the Truth of acceptance and love and the possibility of all things becoming new out of this person.

This is creativity. This is Restoration.

Now, let's be clear. I did this with no strength of my own. In fact, before I did it, I came to Jesus with my fists wailing saying "We're doing this again!! Did you see what so and so did to me?? I did nothing wrong and got kicked in the backside by this person again! I know you saw it, Jesus. You were there!"

And after I let it out, He said. "I did see what happened. It made me sad, too. Now, how can we change your perspective to transform this situation? Because I want the best for both of you. You're both my kids."

And that's when He taught me how to oh so lovingly "fight back".  I didn't have to boycott this person. And I also didn't have to take the punch without any reply.

Jesus replied, He rose from the dead.  

And yet, I wasn't ready to reply until I understood the essence of the resurrection in my own life.

We can't speak love to someone if we are judging them at the same time.

It bears no fruit.

And, I don't know about you, but fruit is one of my most favorite things in the world (aside from Cadbury Creme Eggs).  In fact, yesterday, I bought the most wonderful, spiky pineapple in all of Kroger because I wanted to celebrate.

I want the forever kind of fruit, fruit that will last (John 15:16).

When I die someday, please leave me fruit on my tombstone. May it say "She loved always."

Because that is what creativity is all about.  That is why He said "Let there be Light." He loves always...He's always flipping on the Light switch for us.  Hence why, our new baby girl's name means LIGHT.

Happy Friday....may you be refreshed in all the ways He shows you love and light this weekend (and then hand it out to someone else!)....

I Love Life.

A few days ago, as I was sorting the laundry, I came across one of my favorite shirts.  I don't get to wear it very often because it's a little too big, but it works out just perfectly when I'm pregnant. I remember buying it years before Ella was in the picture. Even though it was too big at the time, I had to have it.  It's bright pink and says "I Love Life."

Oh, isn't it true?

I love life. Real life.  Day to day drudgery caused by outside anxieties or my own anxieties is not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the real thing.  When grace and truth melt together in a tangible way that changes our lives forever. That's real life.  And it tastes so very good. It tastes like Easter.

In reality, it's why I dance. Remember how I told you the story of being born with hip dysplasia? Dancing was definitely not on the list of my most likely "to do's". They thought I would limp...or perhaps be in a wheelchair.  The prognosis was not great, but God had other plans...because He loves life, too.

In fact, to take a step back even further, it even begins with something much deeper.  My very essence. I was conceived at a time when our country was in some turmoil. There was a recession, money was scarce, my parents weren't having an easy time financially.  People were worried that provision would not come. They lived in fear. And so you know what someone suggested? To just get rid of me. Thinking that aborting life was easier than carrying it through some hard times.

I've been thinking about that quite a bit this Holy Week. Life.

I see pictures on Facebook (and everywhere) of all different kinds of extremes. This battle over Life. Over the Resurrection.

It seems as though we are at a cross roads. We have people on one side saying it's a woman's right to choose and that it's her body.  On the other side, we have people saying it's a human life--and no one has the right to choose to end a human life.  We have people passionate on both sides of the coin--and I'd say a lot of those who are passionate about it may not have any idea what it takes to carry a baby to full term.  Perhaps that's why we haven't made too much progress in our campaigns.

If we look at our lives and other people's lives as a campaign or as a power struggle, we won't ever get anything much accomplished.  There won't ever be much "life" to show for it. I saw a bumper sticker today on my way to dance rehearsal (while wearing my pink shirt). Want to know what it said?

"When the power to love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace."

If that doesn't sound like Good Friday, I'm not sure what does.

Jesus, naked and broken, laid down his very life to sacrifice it for someone else. Me. You.

He suffered. He said no to any agenda, to any struggle over power or fame. He was spit on. Taunted until He breathed His last breath.

He carried His life-- and ours-- to full term, never getting ahead of Himself. He embraced the cross.  He embraced my consequences. Those decisions I've made outside of covenant with Him, He still took them upon Himself. The only question He asked was "Will you follow me?"  Sounds like a woman who may have found herself in a compromising position. A Mary Magdelene perhaps. She was one of Jesus' favorites, in fact. Broken, abandoned, wounded...maker of a few wrong choices. And yet, where did she find herself when Jesus was dying His death for her? At His feet....crying with Him. Serving Him.

On the other hand, there were others present that day on Skull Hill. We also have those cheering "Crucify Him! Make Him suffer. Where can I find a bigger rock to throw? If He says that He is the God's Son, why doesn't He just get off that cross? Save yourself!" They do all this while He hangs there, not saying a word. Just embracing the pain.  He knows that His resurrection will come, and it will be worth it.

Unfortunately, sometimes I'm not sure that we have really come very far from this scenerio.  We still have half of the population suffering under the weight of abandonment, brokenness, and perhaps a wrong choice. On the other hand, we have those judging the ones who are in that very position.  If a woman chooses life after she's looked for love in all the wrong places, she is scorned for being "unwed". She often has to fend for herself and isn't given much of a chance to survive, let alone the help to nurture a life well.  And on the other hand, if she chooses to abort, she often receives judgement, stone throwing and a life of shame.  Not to mention, there is usually no life in any form to show for it.  And then somewhere in the middle is an even more sad state, where a woman stands before the Cross and spits. Life completely disregarded. No intention of carrying any bit of promise to fulfillment.  When life isn't even considered worthy, it's the most devastating.

Speaking from a woman who has lost a baby, I know the anquish of mother whose had life plunged from her body, with no hope of survival. It's painfully difficult to understand how I can have such feelings of sadness and pain when a 6.5 week old life is stolen from my body--and yet another woman may easily "choose" for that to happen on purpose. I don't wish those feelings of turmoil on any woman--whether they've chosen it or not. It's a horrendous battle to face, even if you think you're ignoring it.

And, yet, no one is worthy of speaking into that delicate of a situation unless it comes from a place of Love. It's not about power or about inflicting our personal pain onto one another. None of us actually hanged on that cross, except for Jesus. He's the only one who gets to touch that.  Any of our meager attempts to do so in our own strength only push us further down the distrastrous cycle of death...contributing to the greatest genocide of humankind. The one that's happening in our very own backyard.

We must learn love first. It can't be about power, or winning, or "teaching someone something".  And it definitely can't be about using our own pain to blame someone else. Oh, how did our hearts become so calloused? How did we get so far away from the cross?

How did our love for "life" become a battle of mother vs. child? Isn't a child supposed to be created in the safety of a mother's womb?

It's amazing any of us survive at all with the amount of choices we're given now-a-days.  And, yet, it's amazing that any of us survive with the amount of judgement we carry toward one another in our sufferings as well.

I suppose abortion isn't typically a Good Friday sort of topic, and yet, if we're ever to get anywhere in our search for prosperity and peace as people, and as a nation, and as a world---I think it's needs to be.

The new baby girl moving in my belly reminds me of this as I type.  We've nicknamed her Baby Red.  Full of Grace. Full of the Cross.  She's my promise of a fulfilled womb after an empty one remained prematurely.

She kind of reminds me of Easter...

Full of Life and Full of Hope.  Made from Love.

We have a choice this Good Friday as to how we respond to Life.  It may not come in the packages we expected.  It may not be a child.  It may be something else, a different situation. A different crossroads.  And yet, we do have a choice.  On this Good Friday, I hope we can choose Love. I hope we can choose Life.

Just Say No to Sunburn!

Ella and I have had some what of an exhausting few weeks. The early sunshine this spring is not only wonderful, but it is also somewhat difficult to manage. Or, rather, it makes my toddler somewhat difficult to manage. Ella would play outside all day long if I let her.  And, hence, this has initiated some very long afternoons for us the past few weeks.

The other day, we were enjoying our morning outside. She ran ran ran. I sat on padded patio furniture with my feet propped up and soaked up her enthusiasm.  But then, I could start to feel the sun scorching my skin just a little bit. I realized that we had been outside for an adequate amount of time, and I didn't want either of us to get sun-burnt. Needless to say, it was time for a bath and lunch, so that she could then nap really well from all her running.

And then it started.

"Ella..."

(She tries to then hide behind the shed).

"Ella....it's time for us to go inside now."

(I hear something similar to a grunt).

"Ella, please listen to Mama. I don't want you to get sun-burnt."

(Toddler screammmm.....)

Bringing Ella inside after she has been enjoying her freedom in the back yard is one of the hardest times of this pregnant lady's day. She rarely is ready to come back inside.  It usually ends up with her saying something like "Omma--mine! Omma--mine!" This means "Hey Mom. I was playing back here--this yard is mine doncha know!"

I try to let her know that I hear her. "I know, Ella. It's frustrating when you want to stay outside, but it's best for us to go inside now."

I love when God teaches me a parenting lesson through my girl. Children are such gifts from God for many, many reasons.

In fact, it was just a few days ago that I was sharing with a friend about how children are the highways to holiness in our lives--if we let them be.  Ella is always teaching me something. If it's good behavior, I have this moment of delicious grace...like "Wow. I helped make her? Thanks, God." And when it's not so good behavior, I have a different kind of delicious grace...like "Wow. I still do that? Time to re-evaluate. Thanks, God."

I've been thinking a lot about perspective lately.  It's so often that when things don't go what seems like "my way", it's easy to get a bit frustrated. It's natural to be disappointed at first; it's a human emotion.  And yet, if I just give myself a few minutes to look up to God and to release the frustration, I see that nothing is really worth long-term disappointment. That's just not who God is.  He's always looking to turn a situation into something good. I just need to have my glasses on, so I can enjoy the process.

I've been the toddler outside playing in my grass many a time. "I don't want to come inside! I'm playing outside! I'm having fun. Leave me alone!" And yet, inside is where the heart changes.  If inside isn't taken care of than outside is really not nearly as fun as it could be.

And isn't it ironic that it's Holy Week? It's a chance to look at our places of suffering. Where we may have been wounded, or exhausted, or used, or beaten. It's a chance to come inside and to find rest. To receive nourishment.  Nothing happens by coincidence.  My pet peeves or frustrations or unfortunate happenings of today are only a result of a unresolved wounding from the past.  God isn't punishing us by bringing those things up--again. He's inviting us join Him there.  It's not until we truly embrace where He walked--suffering, abandoned, rejected, exhausted--that those old patterns can finally die. It opens us up to new life.


Because on Sunday, we will rise with Him.

After we do so, we have a much better opportunity to play outside again all evening--with no threat of sunburn. We can catch lightning bugs; we have no fear of the dark. We relish in the sound of crickets chirping and that sweet evening humidity.

Children. They are God's great gift to us. Thank you, God, for allowing me to see the beauty in myself multiplied in a tangible way.  And, thank you, for allowing me the opportunity to see the broken parts of me made whole--as you parent us while we parent them.

(And thanks for the Easter baskets full of treats to celebrate! No toddler needs to eat all that candy alone.........)

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!