God The Builder

Hebrews 3:4 – “For every house is built by someone, but the builder of all things is God.”

With the threat of Y2K on the horizon, I sold my home in Lufkin and packed my children and belongings bound for Crockett.  I left behind the home my late husband and I built with counters and floors he labored to lay, with stucco front, with glass block window in the bathroom we shared.  The morning of his funeral God filtered in on a thousand rays of glory shine through that window, and infused me with grace and courage for life beyond the death of my spouse.  My parents feared I might be on the verge of a breakdown for on the day I buried him I attended worship beforehand, having seen the Lord and not died myself.

Eight years later and forty-five miles away, I purchased an acre and a half a few blocks from my parent’s lake house.  The kids and I moved into their home for the year it took to build a home of our own.  With their help and that of other family and friends, the house slowly took shape.  The heavily wooded property sloped dramatically.  We hired loggers who came in and raped the land of the timber leaving behind a disaster to clean up.  In the days that followed oily appearing water surfaced.  An underground spring supplying trees and lush vegetation now bubbled up making mud soup.  The contractor determined to build the home on pier and beam and did extensive dirt work to level a pad to support the cinder block foundation.  Many stories regarding the building of this house took place between this paragraph and the next.

Several years into living in this house I noticed the floor in the family room seemed to give a little when I walked in front of the sofa.  For months I dismissed this change, but finally determined to crawl under the house with my Dad to survey the cause.  On opening the small access door a musty smell greeted us.  Flashlights in hand we crawled toward the center of the house to inspect the underside of the floor.  Growing in the moist sand every variety of mushroom and fungus surrounded us.  Colossal toadstools of all colors thrived beneath the house.  On looking up we noted the subflooring had a mottled appearance, particularly in the vicinity of the den.  Thankfully, the supports remained firm, but the flooring required immediate replacement.  First we treated the entire underside of the house with Clorox bleach drying the area thoroughly with fans to kill the mildew.  Next, my Dad removed and replaced the flooring from the topside.  Finally, he put a moisture barrier (tar paper) on the underside of all flooring and likewise covered the supports.

This took care of the present damage, but in order to preclude this from happening again, the crawl space needed light and air circulation.  He removed covers from all vents put in place during winter months.  Then he installed two large exhaust fans in the access doors on both sides of the house.  Cross ventilation and more light made the space inhospitable for all but daddy long legs which congregated under the house by the thousands!!

As in houses, so spiritual foundations must be properly laid and maintained in order to prevent compromise.  We must invite and permit the wind of the Spirit to continually and freely circulate and the light of God’s Word to radiate to keep our life in the Lord sound.  Barriers to corruption and decay need to also to be put in place.  There are times when our foundation may need attention or maintenance – times when our Christian life seems unstable like the springy floor of my living room!  On those occasions we need to ask our Father to enter the crawl space with us to examine and reveal any problems in need of immediate attention.  Abba may well need to replace lies with truth, to uncover hidden festering wounds, to heal and repair brokenness.  I am so thankful the Lord builds and rebuilds when necessary a spiritually healthy, secure environment for us to live in.

    

Safe in the Shadow,

Terry 





For more spiritual refreshment visit Spiritual Sundays at www.bloggerspirit.blogspot.com 

Hear Him, Live, and Write

“So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in Him, rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness” Colossians 2:6-7

 

On the first eve of a writing conference God revealed He had lessons (gifts) for me not mentioned on the conference syllabus.  He informed me that long before I planned to attend, He planned for me to download A Thousand Gifts on my Kindle.  He appointed the book along with fellow conferees to serve as both curriculum and teachers delivering perfectly timed messages.  During breaks in the conference and at night, He drew me repeatedly back to the book.  I realized He intended to give me more than “my money’s worth,” as both His daughter and steward of His story!!  To my surprise, His agenda didn’t include dynamic and inspiring speeches on nonfiction writing, rather whispered messages on gratitude – the entry point into joy and the abundant life.  In the face of my dashed expectations and ingratitude, the Giver of Every Good and Perfect Gift spoke and on this evening captured my attention.

I spent most of the day assessing, evaluating, critiquing, and comparing writing conference A to writing conference B.  Mind you, I have only attended two writing conferences!  My eye roved about the facilities, flitting from dated décor, to persons in attendance, to an overstocked book store dominating the room.  I smelled the world – dank carpet, subtle greed, dust collected on messages drawn from an elementary book on writing delivered in monotone.  I replayed in my mind the amount spent on this conference and for a time got stuck!  On entering sleep deprived this tired hotel, a battle with disappointment ensued.  My focus on getting what I paid for, what my friend paid for, threatened to prevent my receiving anything from this conference.

By the grace of God, my traveling companion was on a different page and wavelength.  This helped me to begin to hear – to tune in to the voice of God, which on occasion rose from the floor where lay a woman with a spinal cord injury, humbly receiving, teachable, and delighted to be present. As the day wore on, God continued to sober me directing me to engage in people watching with an open mind.  This provided fodder for the lessons taught later that evening.  I looked long at the professor and his wife seated at the table beside us, at the creases deepening again and again in the corners of their eyes as they smiled.  Both relished being taught in the company of people who shared their interest.  Retired and now exploring a new outlet for the expression of their lives, these model students often glanced back at my friend and I and beamed as if to say, “Life is so good!”  Behind us sat a woman who had attended multiple events put on by this organization.  She had nothing but praise for the hosts.  Each conferee spoke of their passion behind writing and contributed food for thought, rounding out the speaker’s shallow address.

God began identifying attitudes and lies impeding me from receiving His best at this conference.  First He pointed out that I felt I had been “ripped off,” “taken advantage of.”  Underlying this feeling an equally unpleasant feeling (lie):  that due to my naivety, gullibility, and stupidity I had wasted money and time in coming for the weekend.  Beneath this, doubt that I had indeed heard and followed God in registering for this conference (in seeking further training as a writer).  Satan approaches from every angle to undermine God’s promise that as His sheep I hear His voice.  In addition, feeling God must be frustrated/disappointed with me for grappling with and expressing these feelings (complaining).   Finally, regret over inviting my friend to join me in attending such a costly event given the sacrifice on her part.  On agreeing with God, He encouraged me to open my hand and let go of all the aforementioned feelings.  Then He said, “I brought you here to hear from me – not from speakers.  I have secrets to share with you out of this experience, gifts to give, and fellowship for you to enjoy with your friend!  Shift gears and listen, sweet daughter of Mine.  I love You!!”

My Sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me

With renewed enthusiasm I set out to listen and to mentally compile my own gratitude list for God’s gifts on the trip!  Frequently, I confessed my desire to humbly hear, to walk freed from a critical prideful spirit, to discern truth and righteousness.  The following is an abbreviated gratitude list for all God gave me:

* Forgiveness for complaining

* Holy Spirit counsel, repeated attitude adjustments, His love, patience, mercy, viewpoint

* Delicious dinner at Bruno’s Italian Restaurant overlooking the canal in the company of

   my dear friend

* A luscious late night piece of chocolate cake

* Visits until after midnight with my friend

* Perspective on things happening in our world (Japan, Libya, Waco…)

* An understanding of how feelings and lies beneath them hinder hearing God’s voice

* An understanding of how quickly God can remove obstacles to hearing if asked

* What I need to know about writing summed up in three words:  Hear Him, Write!!

* A friend who points me to Jesus, who suggests, “Let’s be thermostats.”

* Time away to rest

* A soft pillow and comfortable mattress (our prayer beforehand)

* Late check out, discounted room, a kind housekeeper who opened the door for us

* Encouragement to always reward the reader – represent God well by giving readers

   valuable inspiration/insight for their time (and if applicable money)

* Lots to think about regarding travel and devotional writing

* Next steps in the journey I’m taking with God as a writer

* A change of heart – opportunity to practice heart tending (SOZO) with my friend

* Opportunity to share our dreams/vision for parenting adult children and for

   grandparenting

* A room full of passionate students with a message from God glowing in their hearts

* Two Hershey kisses in the candy dish on our table

* So, so, so much more (including a reminder not to use too many adjectives!!)

And once home, late afternoon bird song outside my window, children’s laughter making merry in my ears, my active imagination that follows sounds until they are well out of earshot, and time to finish reading the book He put in my hands….  Thank You Lord for a fresh and priceless lesson on gratitude which opens wide the heart to receive and hear from You!!

  

Call to Me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and 

mighty things, which you do not know.  Jeremiah 33:3

Heart tending in His Shadow,

Terry

Visit Spiritual Sundays (http://bloggerspirit.blogspot.com) for more spiritual refreshment.

Providence Behind The Scenes

 

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those

who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."

Romans 8:28

I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe in coincidence.  Coincidence, the occurrence of events that happen at the same time by accident but seem to have some connection, leaves me wanting!  Providence, on the other hand, explains the Unseen Hand behind coinciding events.  This wonderful word means divine guidance or care.  When capitalized, Providence means God conceived as the power sustaining and guiding human destiny.  Catching a glimpse of Providence behind events, seeing by faith Providence at work behind the scenes adds to life’s mystery the love of a PERSON working all things together, at all times, for my good.

The past few years I’ve been employed by a local hospital which happens to be named Providence.  From the moment I stepped through the doors of this hospital to interview for a nurse tech position, I somehow knew life would never be the same.  By faith and with the insistent encouragement of a friend and fellow nursing student, I applied and soon found myself reporting to the surgical department.  Little did I know that Providence (the Lord) had planned for me to undergo months of “heart surgery” while gaining experience as a believer in the medical profession.  Have you ever entered a surreal setting in which it seemed all sights, sounds, and forms of stimuli were at once bombarding you right and left, yet in slow motion?  I have.  Surgery for me represented culture shock, sensory overload, and daily reality checks in the company of strangers comfortable in this sterile world that totally terrified me.

I recall my first visit to the locker room to don scrubs.  The memory causes me to laugh now, but at the time I could easily have lost control of all emotions and done anything but laugh!!  I pulled on clothes not my own, covered my shoes and my head with the prescribed disposable coverings, and looked at this clown in the mirror who felt so incredibly silly, like an imposter in this get-up!!  My own eyes frozen in fear stared back – the look of sheer panic did nothing to cheer me on.  Still, by faith I stepped out of the safety of that locker room into the inner corridor designated for surgical personnel and patients only.  I might as well have stepped off a plane in Siberia or set foot on Mars.  I found myself totally outside my comfort zone in the Twilight Zone!

I have to backtrack for a moment and tell you of my first visit to the break room of this department.  While I would have preferred to remain invisible, that not possible, I hoped to at least make a good first impression on coworkers.  So I strolled into the room where a number of OR staff were talking shop and eating the strangest of fare, and just so happened to choose the funny ha-ha chair.  I don’t really think that this chair had a name, nor was torture for the sake of everyone’s entertainment on the menu, but it just so happened that when I planted my rear end on this chair the hydraulic base immediately took me for a ride nearly to the floor.  My chin now level with the table edge, I looked around the room like a two year old child and surveyed all eyes on me and wide grins beneath them.  Never good with timely comebacks, I’m sure I said something equally ridiculous to my circumstance, and then laughed nervously in an attempt to recover composure.  Hopefully, you begin to see the work of Providence in me, for you see God had me exactly where He wanted me.  Surgery to deliver me to the uttermost from performance-based thinking and living was well underway!!

While I’ve already alluded to the terror I felt on entering the world of medicine, I must say Providence, The Heart Hospital, supernaturally appealed to me.  Following my husband’s sudden death twenty years ago from an MI, I found myself compelled to take CPR, to issue warnings regarding signs and symptoms, and to share the comfort I received from God as a young widow with many.  I didn’t consider nursing at the time, but heart disease had touched my life and left its mark.  Add to this experience, my Mom suffering for years with CHF, and it is easy to understand my growing desire to somehow make a difference in the lives of people dealing with heart disease.  More so than these events, Providence chose the perfect time, perfect location, and perfect conditions for beginning a new work of liberation in me.  He drew me to Waco, to MCC to study nursing, and to Providence Hospital where He opened a position for me.   My lack of confidence as a nursing student screamed in protest, but God carried me over the threshold of that hospital, and began equipping me to stand by faith on the threshold of heaven with the hurting and dying.

That may sound overly dramatic, but to God be the glory for the DRAMATIC changes He has made in me.  I write of these changes out of a compulsion to do so.  I write to reveal Providence behind change – not the changes themselves.  I write because God who lives in me longs to express His desire to liberate all of His children into their destiny and purpose on the earth, to love them lavishly in the process, and to fill them with unspeakable joy on seeing Him over and over working behind the scenes of their lives.

 Only recently did it TRULY dawn on me that during every minute of every day God has been working in me (and around me), completing what He began.  I’ve read verses promising God’s ceaseless activity on my behalf countless times, but to know on the cellular level that this is indeed my reality – always happening -- is quite another thing.  It is to be in touch – in touch with His Presence.  And it is glorious.

This awareness of God, ever for us and at work, is progressive in nature, and will be so until the day of Christ Jesus, but it seems to me that of late God is “popping up all over the place.”  His doing so is not new.  He has been here from the beginning, evident in His works (creation), and in His tireless working.  The problem lies with me (us), with perception or better put reception.  Like an old television set with foiled rabbit ears, we tend to have poor reception, and often don’t detect what is really happening in our world, both our inner world and the world we live, breathe, and move about in.  We are receivers (recipients in every way), and until we really explore the meaning of that with God, somehow we miss out on the abundant life and exceeding joy He longs to bestow.

Perpetual change describes well the hospital where I work.  Construction and remodeling are ongoing seemingly without interruption.  During my time in surgery, we often congregated at the one window in that world of stark artificial light, and watched the building of a multi-story employee parking garage topped with a heli-pad.  Like children gathered around an anthill, we discussed as though experts all the phases from ground up, and laughed at times at the actions of the workers below unaware of our intrusive eyes.  The daily ritual of men in colorful hard hats lined up at the taco truck tickled us.   Sometimes we amused ourselves with made-up dialogue for random scenes observed through this porthole to the outside world.   This provided a welcome break from the gravity of what went on in this department.  I welcomed the distraction from remembering the faces of gravely ill patients wheeled by on gurneys.  Here at this window, believe it or not, I also did a lot of soul searching.  Directly below the window were large compacting trash receptacles.  Many times I looked out over the medical waste and those handling it, and then beyond at the new construction.  Metaphors were everywhere.   As a member of the cleaning crew in surgery, I started my career in the best place possible.  Providence (God) saw to this.

And I Know He Watches Over Me!

 One experience in particular lives on in memory.  I stood alone for a moment at this window I’ve described and while looking at the waste below, the dam on my tear ducts broke unexpectedly.  About that time, Ed, a coworker, walked up and noticed I was crying.  I had over time gotten to know Ed fairly well and we enjoyed a mutual exchange of encouragement and prayer.  He had a penchant for making me laugh – for helping me not to take life too seriously, desperately needed at the time!!  He also on occasion shared his grief and sorrows.   More than once I tried to “fix” things for Ed, to be a diplomat.  I set about trying to mend and mediate relationships, to right wrongs in surgery (on a small scale, mind you), to fix people or the way they treated one another.  Surely I was good for something in this interim time here in this department – even as a pip-squeak ORA.  I kind of saw it as my mission, I think – to bring about something good, particularly since I seemed to be failing to fix matters at home, and my heart was broken in two over it.  I probably redoubled my efforts on the job to in part to feel I had some value and purpose in life beyond motherhood – there at that window I came face to face with my inability to fix or save anyone.  I don’t recall if it was raining outside that day or not, it seems like it was, but I do know that internally dark ominous clouds swirled about and cast a gloomy shadow upon my heart.  I risked sharing that day my sadness over my son’s loss of the desire to live.  I didn’t say much, but just enough to release a small measure of the pain in me, and to open my hand in humility to receive.  Ed didn’t say much either, but much was communicated, and for what seemed an eternal moment, I received God’s understanding and comfort.  I came through my first heart surgery humbled, experiencing through members of the “cleaning staff” the friendship of God, appreciating them for who they were, who WE were, in this messy world of ours.

Safe in the Shadow,

Terry



For more spiritual refreshment visit:  http://bloggerspirit.blogspot.com/

Mighty Breath of God Breathe in Me

How does a woman become a writer for God’s glory when she fears man’s disapproval or worse disinterest; when, by nature, she is a conflict avoider, OCD peacemaker (perceptive of everyone’ emotional undercurrents), and unable to abide with being misunderstood?  How does a woman who has lived emotionally under a banner of abandonment, proclaim the faithfulness of Abba Father, who promises to never leave or forsake us?  Sounds impossible, doesn’t it?  Well, humanly speaking, it is.  BUT GOD. 

As in all things, God chooses the least likely candidate, a person after His own heart, and then He calls that person to do what is only supernaturally possible.  I am the woman spoken of above, delivered of much and becoming a writer for God's glory.  My Great Physician, Counselor, and Best Friend took it upon Himself to undertake training me to express His life dwelling within through the penned word.  He called me to write while He heals, counsels, trains, and perfects me -- to live from now on in a contented state of becoming, of permitting Him to complete what He began.

He initiated the process of my becoming a writer by first pulling down walls and teaching me to trust Him in the sweetest intimate encounters a human being can experience and survive.  Then, not long ago, He anointed me for the divine task (writing in the Spirit for His glory, and the encouragement of others), and gave me the assurance that I had ears and a heart to hear His voice.  The rest is history – HIS STORY.  Much like David, who went from shepherd boy to king, God has taken me, His anointed, on paths I never dreamed I would walk, assigning new roles and responsibilities en route to my God-appointed “destination.”  He blesses me with opportunities for the development of a true servant heart, and continues to patiently teach me how to travel light, relying only on the Holy Spirit.  He coaches me daily in becoming child-like, and a student (of His life and ways, of other people, of life in the world around me).  He gently unpacks my emotional baggage and grants incredible breakthroughs, to equip me to truly care for, comfort, encourage, and heal others.  He liberates me to speak unselfconsciously of the joy He has given me, living free under His banner of love and belonging.  As His beloved reporter, my prayer is to faithfully exhale the transforming messages He has breathed into my life experience with Him.

I am so thankful to be on this journey with my God and King, with My Daddy, sitting on His lap and listening with adoration, mesmerized as He lovingly transforms me into the image of Christ by His very breath.  In His shadow I’ll ever blissfully abide.

"For You are my refuge, a high tower where my enemies can never reach me.  I shall  live forever in Your tabernacle; oh to be safe beneath the shelter of Your wings!"  Ps. 61: 3-4
 "I lie awake at night thinking of You -- of how much You have helped me -- and how I rejoice through the night beneath the protecting shadow of Your wings."  Ps. 63:6-7



Tonight we worshiped as Daddy’s little girls down on the floor at Bible study.  Each one co-created a painting of a tree with Father God.  His life breath was repeatedly exhaled through a straw, blowing paint across a canvas, and forming a unique intricately branching tree.  To the tree, leaves and blossoms were added with a Q-tip dipped in paint.  Note that Q-tips, generally used to clean the ears, were applicators -- a reminder that hearing God is essential to blooming and fruit-production.  (Hey, I never overlook a symbol!!)

I experimented earlier in the day with how best to "paint-blow a tree," and during that exercise God spoke using several object lessons.  During my first experiment, I started with non-diluted acrylic paint.  Due to the viscosity of the paint, I had difficulty coaxing it to "grow," and produce branches.  I thought about the importance of "consistency" in my faith walk with Jesus.  Through this first stunted tree, God revealed that in order to move forward with Him in creating a flourishing life (a tree with a beautiful crown atop its trunk), we must consistently abide in The Vine, and yield to the flow of the sap of the Holy Spirit in us.  Otherwise growth is stunted.

The second principle I learned with experimental tree #2.  With this tree, I used diluted paint and tilted the page I was working with to take advantage of gravity.  Instead of resisting the paint's movement with a flat sheet of paper, I facilitated the creation of long graceful branches culminating in fine twigs as the paint ran and I blew it in the desired direction.  Of course, there were still surprises!!  At times my breath took the branch on an unexpected detour or split it into two new branches.  Such is life when we cease fighting the gravity of our circumstances and flow with both the "tilt" of life and the breath of God taking us in unforeseen directions.  This branching by His design produces a tree (united life) that can support extensive foliage and fruit for the shade and nourishment of many!!

Amy

Terry

Nereida

Carrie

Brandy

 

Luana

Sherrie

 

Nancy

Blow Mighty Breath of God!!!

Job 33:4 in the Amplified version says:  “[It is] the Spirit of God that made me [which has stirred me up], and the breath of the Almighty that gives me life [which inspires me]” Not only does God breathe life into our physical bodies, He breathes life into our dreams and desires. He breathes new life and inspiration into our hearts.  Scripture also teaches, “It’s not by our might. It’s not by our power. But it’s by His Spirit (the living breath of Almighty God).”  I thank the Lord for establishing and anointing me, for entrusting me with the care and influence of others for His Name and Kingdom's sake!!

Try to pay attention in coming days to your breathing.  As you do, picture inhaling the breath of God (in prayer, Bible study, all forms of communion with Him), and then exhaling His life thorough yours.  It is a beautiful picture of the true Christian life of unbroken intimacy.  You might also like to listen to a few of the videos at right that correspond to this article.
Abiding In His Breath and Shadow,
Terry

One Last Breakfast In Bed

This evening I pulled out of the driveway headed to work and happened to notice that my MaryAnna pink magnolia was beginning to bloom!!  I planted this tree two years ago in memory of my Mom, Maryanna.   It has served as an annual reminder of the new life Mom enjoys with Jesus in heaven.  This year, it also reminds me of the new life God is birthing in me, of the dream He is dreaming in my heart concerning writing and speaking for His glory.  It seemed God's timing that I planned this evening to write about the final (and most memorable) "meal" I enjoyed with Mom, and enter it into The She Speaks Contest.  Five hundred ninety-five dollars will be awarded to two winners, enabling them to attend the Proverbs 31 She Speaks Conference this summer in North Carolina.  (Please visit link below for additional information).  I've been praying about the possibility of attending, and my sister informed me of this scholarship opportunity.  Who knows??  My Daddy knows!!  Of this, I am sure, He has come to give life and life more abundant, and He gives good and perfect gifts!!  He may surprise me with the unexpected means to go to North Carolina or He may make another way altogether.  No matter, He is GOOD all the time, and the two of us thoroughly enjoyed writing about the last few moments WE spent with my Mom before she left for Home.  May you too be blessed by the account.

My MaryAnna Tree in Bloom at Night

Sunlight flooded the room turning all things golden.  Dust particles floated like the downy feathers of angel wings on the morning rays.  Mom broke the silence with a smile and a welcomed request for something to drink.  She had slept soundly for twenty-four hours on the hospital bed delivered the day before by Hospice Supply.  Now on heaven's threshold, she knew her battle with congestive heart failure was soon to be won.  Surrounded by her children, cradled by Jesus, she rested like a baby for the first time in weeks.  We watched and prayed, much as Jesus had asked His inner circle to do in the Garden before He drank the cup.

This last supper with Mom was my most memorable meal.  Time had come to pour her a final cup to refresh her parched throat.  She pursed dry lips to sip, and savored several drafts of 7-Up.  The whites of her eyes had turned honey gold.  I knew as a nursing student it wouldn't be long.  Her liver was failing.  Dew disappeared from the roses on her pale cheeks, and she looked up and said, "I'm hungry."  My sister immediately excused herself and ran to the kitchen.  She soon returned with a perfectly lovely piece of lemon pie, Mom's favorite food on Earth.  Jesus had prompted a neighbor to bake and deliver the pie that very morning.

Mom's smile widened on seeing the treat.  The peace of Christ emanated from her as she opened her mouth to be spoon-fed.  She commented on how wonderful it tasted and then said with a grin, "What if I live?"  We all understood that this was her way of saying, "To live is Christ and to die great gain."  Filled, although we hadn't taken a bite, we returned her smile. 

Mom's fight to live now over, she taught us one last lesson around the family table:  how to trust Jesus with our dying breath.  She had been a superb cook herself, an incredible hostess, always inviting people to her table.  How fitting that Jesus invited her to breakfast in bed in the presence of loved ones, serving her her favorite dessert on a humble plate.

To refer to Mom as a survivor would be an understatement.  She outlived her siblings and parents, and possessed a stubborn will to live life to the fullest.  Perhaps God's greatest miracle in her occurred that day, when He granted her faith to yield to the dying process, to enjoy every moment of coming home with Him.  The memory of this scene served alongside a shivering slice of lemon pie half eaten feeds my soul to this day.  Mom taught us much about how to live, more importantly she finished well and taught us how to die.  This she did at the table God prepared for us in her bedroom.  Following the meal, she drifted off to sleep and never woke or spoke again.

For additional information on She Speaks, visit http://lysaterkeurst.com/2011/03/she-speaks-scholarship-contest-2011/
For more spiritual refreshment, visit Spiritual Sundays.

Forever You've Marked Me, Mom!  I love and miss you!!!

 

Learning to Fly in His Shadow,

Terry

Kingdom Builders and Rulers

Today was a day of peering into Congress Avenue shops while waiting to dine on spicy fish tacos at the Congress Street Café  We were casually looking for a reasonably priced picnic basket (which we did not find), and a bronze skeleton key for Lori to wear as a necklace charm.  In Uncommon Objects, we walked up and down neatly arranged and somewhat color-grouped rooms flocking narrow aisles.  There were items from a medical school (anatomy charts, old medicine bottles, bones and skulls, trays and instruments), many statues of the Virgin Mary, an Elvis lamp we joked about purchasing as a wedding gift for Al and Sarah, lots of antique furniture from different periods, and more than the eye could take in!!  The pleasing, and at times disturbing, arrangement of random relics was but a foretaste of what was later to come. 

  From here we wandered through a few consignment shops, home to vintage clothing, every possible design of cowboy boots, and jewelry from years past.  Just before brunch we roamed through Monkey See, Monkey Do, a shop that carries all things monkey, where I bought baby Eyth a Curious George book for week 14 of Charlcie’s pregnancy.  (I’ve been buying a book each week, building my grandbaby a library.  Some have been purchased on vacations, or special outings – this one on my birthday weekend).

After brunch we went to the Umlauf Sculpture Garden and walked the pathways of this outdoor museum where “art is framed by nature”.  Statues peered at us from their perches creatively situated around ponds and a waterfall, posing for our admiration.  Wooden bridges and islands with larger than life figures – many of lovers, biblical characters, saints, or mother and child captured our attention.  From here we went to another of Austin’s cultural attractions:  the Cathedral of Junk!

When looking at something unusual, I often ask, “Lord, what do You see?  I invite His interpretation and ask Him to share with me any messages hidden in what I’m looking at.  This was the case as I toured the curious work of “yardist,” Vince Hannemann.  I wandered and wondered what inspired this man in a tired Austin neighborhood to begin such a project?   What, after twenty years, continues to motivate him to modify, add to and subtract from this creation of his.  I meandered inside and around the structure noting “artistic elements” (arched openings, skylights, use of lighting to enliven the space).  I applied rusty principles of design and art appreciation to the study of this cathedral, admittedly a bit distracted by the JUNK itself.  All the while, I listened for God’s voice.  It seemed to me the artist probably intended for his work to raise questions in the minds of visitors.  It seemed he erected this building, different from any other, not only to keep Austin weird, but because he had something in his heart and mind to express.  Something he hoped might interest others.

Vince Hannemann on his throne

Before launching into what the Lord shared with me concerning the cathedral, I need to provide you some personal background.  God has for the past couple of years been inviting me to come to Him and find rest; rest from worry, rest from fear, and rest from trying to recreate or redefine myself.  During this season of emptying my nest, of admitting to myself that my identity has little to do with accomplishments, roles, or relationships with those closest to me, God has consistently and gently coaxed me to come to Him to discover who I truly am, and more importantly Whose I truly am.  By His grace, I’m beginning to see that my efforts to build a house for Him, a life for Him to dwell in with me, a temple complete with a throne for Him to occupy, compares to building a cathedral of junk.  Not that the Father has not appreciated my heart and even my efforts in “this project,” He just has longed to free me to live in the house He is building for Us; the house He’s designed and wants to add rooms to for generation after generation of my family line.  It is funny to me now to look back and see all the ways God has been seeking to communicate this invitation to me.  He has in more ways than one been drawing my heart out, and into His Grace House.

His desire all along has been to build a house for the two of us, a house filled with His presence, a house from which His life emanates.  God’s one-of-a-kind floor plan for Our Home, filled with secret chambers of communion, rooms without walls between Us, and glory windows through which His beauty can stream, takes my breath away!!  He has invited me to rest in His arms and allow Him to design and build this Temple for two!!  In exchange for self-reliance, He offers me life in the Spirit, not as a nice sounding concept, but as REALITY:  He in me and I in Him.  Words fail me, but I begin to understand the difference.  I can honestly say, I have ceased striving to build a house for God to dwell in – a fine Christian life that might attract attention to my Savior.  I’ve ceased trying to build or uphold an image, to perform to the crowd I am surrounded by, to find my sense of value in the people He has graciously allowed to be a part of my life.  No doubt I’ll stumble and attempt control again for self-reliance is a deeply ingrained pattern hard to break, but there is a shift in me that God is responsible for, and He will not fail!!

Glory streams from His Cathedral

There were a number of parallels in the cathedral of junk to a believer attempting to build a life to God’s glory.  Many of the building materials for the cathedral at one time no doubt shaped or expressed the preferences and personality of their former owner:  television sets (media influence), toys (action figures, Barbies…), sporting goods, mirrors (our view/perception of ourselves), CD’s (music), typewriters (tools of one’s trade)…  All of these objects were wired together to form walls, create and frame openings, and even to “landscape” the area surrounding the cathedral.  It reminded me of the fact that we are more than the product of our past (the influence of others and the world upon us, and of our own perceptions of ourselves).  We can attempt to build a house pleasing to the Lord with these materials, and with lots of well-meaning flesh effort, on the dusty soil of our humanity.  OR, we can accept God’s offer to build for us a Home to come into and dwell with Him.  This Home, perfectly suited to who we REALLY are, is a forever shelter.

We entered the “Court” of the Cathedral of Junk through a wide and rickety gate too heavy to swing smoothly on its hinges.  The pickets were heavily laden with hubcaps and various nailed on objects.  The cathedral, invisible from the street, was situated in the back yard of an older home with trophies adorning the awning over the front porch.  Littering the front lawn, were miniature piles (arrangements) of “junk” scattered about, hinting at the three-story structure behind the house.  Just as with the Cathedral of Junk, much of our life is hidden, so to speak, in the backyard!!  We may put a few trophies out front to attract attention, and even expose some of what is “down under,” but our REAL life is known only to God.

My Delight is to Tabernacle With Him

  

Donations were accepted at the gate once you got beyond the barking of harmless dogs.  I thought about the torn veil into the Holy of Holies.  How privileged we are that Christ paid our entry fee, but our response of love to God’s grace blesses Him as did our donation the creator of the cathedral!!  This cathedral, playground to puppies tumbling about, seemed a whimsical place, child-friendly, purported to be engineered to withstand storms.  The cathedral creator was perched atop his creation working leisurely to transform the ever changing face of his building.  He warmly invited us in, boasting of the soundness of his structure.  He wanted us to come up where He was working.  The three story building had a vaulted ceiling and a large concrete throne no longer centrally located.  We were told the city recently demanded the owner dismantle a portion of his building located too close to his property line due to codes.   This isolated the throne off to the side, leaving it exposed, and no longer logically surrounded.  The wall left standing behind the throne interestingly enough was comprised of stainless steel crutches.  In these elements I saw countless reminders again of the story typical of man’s life:  brokenness, healing, tearing down, rebuilding and off to the side a manmade throne, massive but out of place (meaningless).  In our efforts to build a spiritual cathedral for God, to house Him, we tend to also set up a throne more or less off to the side, relegating Him to our own concept of what His rule should look like.  We expect certain behaviors out of Him, and base our security, our faith on this illusion of who God is.  We are easily disappointed.

There were shiny objects throughout, which made this Swiss cheese pile of junk “beautiful”: silver CD’s glinted in the sun as they twirled on invisible fishing line in columns, broken pieces of stained glass, mirrors, colorful bottles, chrome, even tin foil.  These reflected the sunlight and caused it to dance about on the dusty floor open to the sky above.  There were windows, one which my daughter leaned through, Rapunzel-style, letting down her hair!  The window looked to be made of a wheel rim.  There were arched openings and tight passageways adding to the feeling that you were traveling back in time through a structure you might have built as a kid when imagination was without limits.  Staircases were nonexistent, only ladders wired to precarious walls of various items, with rope handrails.  Wind chimes played, adding music to our experience of this cathedral.  The artist behind the cathedral had a green t-shirt on with gold letters spelling out “REUSE”.  He looked rather ordinary, not what I expected, a friendly eccentric collector who believed in recycling.  I thought about My Creator and the House He is building for the two of Us.  I imagined the message that might grace “His shirt” were He to wear one.  I feel sure it would read “REDEEM and RESTORE”.

I couldn’t help noticing the large head of a dragon hanging on the fence, smiling with eyes fixed on this counterfeit cathedral.  This caused me to think about the enemy of our souls who delights to see us building cathedrals of junk even as believers.  He is amused by our failure to understand our true identity.  He hopes we never will discover the freedom God offers when we cease performing and enter into the House God is building for us to enjoy with Him.  There were several toilets worked into the walls, oddly grouped with bouncing horses.  Random!!  This and so much more, and a beautiful old oak at the back of the property looking on.  Because it was the dead of winter, no vines climbed the walls to obscure the view.  It was abundantly clear to me I no longer want to build to amuse, rather I want to move completely out of performance based Christianity, and live in the Grace House God is building for Us.  I’m thankful He has been dismantling the cathedral I’ve built – removing lies and false beliefs, giving me in exchange the security of being truly at Home (in myself) in Him, covered as with the Tabernacle coverings, known, deeply desired, belonging to Him forever.

In God's presence is fullness of joy; At His right hand are pleasures forever. Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. And He said, "My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest." The LORD is near to all who call upon Him, To all who call upon Him in truth.

Earlier I asked a question:  What was in the mind of the creator of the Cathedral of Junk?  I propose that in the heart of this artist lives a desire to build and to reign, one he has artistically expressed more openly than most.  He may or may not understand this God-given desire, but the cathedral he has raised pictures well the longing in all of us.  For just as there is a God-shaped vacuum in the soul of all men, there is also a desire to build and rule a kingdom.  We were made to dwell in God, to live securely in the House He will build in the empty void of our longing hearts.  He desires to share His life with us.   We were made to rest in what He has done for us, to trust Him absolutely.  In fact, we were knit together in our mother’s wombs as worshipers, with an undeniable desire to worship Him in the Holy of Holies – the cathedral – He promises to build in the heart of every believer.  From this place of unparalleled intimacy with our God and Father, He will restore us as builders in His eternal kingdom.  He promises that in union with Him we will also reign.  While He shares His glory with no one, He shares His very life that we might experience His glory inside of us, escaping through us to affect the entire world!!

The redemption story is written into the fabric of who we are.  It can be perceived in unforeseen places and persons if only we ask for eyes to see and ears to hear the Lord.  He desires we know the freedom of a relationship with Him, not the bonds of religion.  He desires we live in Him more than for Him!!  He desires we live according to revelation not reason.  He desires we surrender and know the blessing of being cared for!!  He desires we rule and reign WITH Him, not alone or in opposition to Him.  In the end every knee will bow and every tongue confess that He is Lord.  Those who do so before He returns enter into their kingdom destiny, and join Him in the home built for them in heaven, where He will graciously satisfy every desire forever and ever.  Amen

Lord I want YOU to occupy the Throne of My Life!

Singing in the
Shadow,

Terry

From Cathedral of Junk to Tabernacle

More to come on the subject of the Cathedral of Junk, a thought-provoking “masterpiece” Lori took me to in Austin over my birthday weekend!!  Thank you to my precious children for giving me the joys of being a mother most of my life.  The three of them, plus B, help me to glimpse the love the Father has for His children welling up and spilling over continually.  Enjoyed the weekend with you all.  I love you guys!!!  Mom

How He Loves Us

"His love is like a hurricane and I am a tree..."

Have you stopped lately to consider God’s love for you?  Have you in amazement meditated on Holy God’s jealous desire for you??  Have you pondered His great affection for you, or the fathomless ocean of grace you swim in every moment of life?  Sometimes, God catches me unaware with a warm personal reminder of how deep, high, wide, and eternal His love is for me.  Then, in ecstasy, I have to somehow find a way to respond to His love while still remaining in this skin.  My heart in those moments yearns to depart from my chest and run upon the waves toward Jesus, to throw longing arms about His neck and cover Him with kisses forever.  Tonight God shone His Beauty all around me, and swept me away in His love!!

"If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking..."

I wish you could step into my heart and know a little history, but I trust God can make personal for you His message of love and hope without you possessing such knowledge.  Nothing limits God!!  So, on to the encounter.

Driving home from lifegroup the Lord brought to mind in vivid detail a patient I had cared for the past two nights.  Then He turned the spotlight on her name, her first name.  It so happens, that God inscribed this name on my heart in June 2010.  At that time He endeared me to a little girl bearing the same name who changed my life forever.  I can’t describe how I felt as God repeatedly spoke this name to me in the car until it hit me.  I had been addressing my patient by her last name all this time, overlooking her first.  God took me to a scene from the night before when her brother called her repeatedly by her first name!  It finally dawned on me, God had much to say concerning this person and His heart for her.  He now had my undivided attention!!  I treasure His voice and His timing.

The Lord spoke to me His thoughts about this patient, intimate personal thoughts about how deeply He loved her, viewed and valued her, and how He strongly desired to speak HOPE from heaven over her right this minute.  I glanced at the clock on the dash and realized that I had 30 minutes before visiting hours would be over at the hospital.  I drove past the street leading to my home, cut over to Highway 6, and headed for the hospital.  I felt profoundly compelled to go, all the way the words of God playing continually in my head.  He expressed that He wanted her to know that He had a future and a hope for her.  He inspired prayer en route for the breaking off of chains potentially contributing to her current state of health.  He led me into battle for her in the heavenlies.  Then He prompted me to pray for full restoration and recovery of all bodily systems, and indicated I was to do this again audibly at her bedside.  Excitement rose in my heart, mingled with the tension that accompanies entering a room with such a mission from God.  After all, He held out to me an invitation to step into “impossibility” with Him and ask for miracles, something a little outside the norm and comfort zone.

"Go ahead.  Step into the waters with Him!!"

I opened my car door and the biting wind tousled my hair, and resisted my approach to the building with an icy hand.   Nonetheless, I proceeded with a holy compulsion from the Father.  He reminded me of the lengths He went to in pursuit of His chosen ones, with a message of love and hope burning unquenchable in His heart.  He simultaneously lit a fire in me, and it was a delight to be warmed by Him from the inside out!!  I bounded up the stairs and entered the room to find family present.  I told them what God had said and directed me to do, asking their permission.  Then I stepped up close, put my hand on her forehead, my lips to her ear, and while stroking her hair spoke and prayed the heart of God over her.  I felt nearer to Him than I can describe as He breathed through me His words of hope, of love, and of life.  As I left the building God encouraged me to continue to believe what We had prayed would indeed come to pass!!  And I asked Him for more faith to keep on believing in the miracle He desired to give to this one so precious to Him.  I experienced His heart for her and for me, much as I did months ago under the summer Ugandan moon.   On my way out, I thought about the price He paid to set  captives free, to heal every disease, to gather His redeemed ones up in His arms and delight them with the indescribable joy of knowing Him.  How can you say thanks for a gift of such magnitude??

"You're my Healer, Lord!!!"

I turned on Kari Jobe and took the highway home.  Two songs back to back were God’s answers to my prayer for more faith.  I sang them with God over my patient.  I encourage you to listen to Healer and How He Loves Us posted at right.  May you be blessed as I have been this evening by how He loves us!!  Oh to walk with God in this life!!!  He is such an awesome Father, Friend, Healer, Lover, and thrills to take us on adventures of restoration, if we will only listen and brave the winds of resistance.  Please pray with me for the patient mentioned, for this apple of God’s eye, whom He desires to heal and restore.  He knows her name!!

Dedicated to Jesus and a special little one of His!

I love You, Lord, more than I can say – burn deep and bright inside me – fill and consume me with Your holy fire, and take me up and into Your glorious purposes for others in my sphere.

Praying Boldly In His Shadow,

Terry