"If you've ever felt a move of God at all, don't forget to ask Him to move again in your life. Seek Him, always, for what He wants you to do."
Tonight, I had the rare opportunity to talk to my Dad alone. So I asked him about where he thought this nation was headed--and what he thought I ought to do.
"I've asked Stephen, 'Do we need to move?' This nation is rapidly changing, alarmingly changing. I'm not sure, if this keeps progressing, we want our children to grow up here. But what do we do? Where would we go?"
Dad looked at me and answered within seconds.
After reminding me that no human entity or organization can be fully trusted--and that God is ever and always our Source of Truth and Wisdom--he started talking about the story in Judges about Gideon.
God used Gideon mightily, "a mighty man of valor," and he did mighty exploits for The Lord. But after Gideon won the battle with the Lords's help and for the Lord's people, there is no record of him having done anything else. He got a piece of land for his efforts, a house, and begin to have many children and heirs.
Yet Gideon never sought God for what was required after that battle.
Later, after the infamous Gideon story, we learn that all of Gideon's family members are destroyed.
Daddy said, "Gideon knew The Lord, trusted The Lord, did great exploits for The Lord. But why did he stop listening and seeking? Why did he stop knocking? And that's exactly why he had no further exploits" (at least that we can tell in the scripture).
And so, Dad finished by saying that we must never get to the point where we no longer ask, seek, knock on the doors to our Heavenly Father. We must seek His face and ask for His advice before we do anything. We must preserve our relationship with him.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Lessons from the Wisest Man I Know
My dad is, by far, the wisest man I know.
Growing up, and through adulthood, my dad and I would talk for hours on any variety of subjects--from philosophy and music to politics and spirituality. He himself is a great lecturer, and every time I get a chance to listen to him or talk to him, I realize that my lecturing skills were honed in our great debates of the first three decades of my life. Dad challenged me to think, to consider views he held with which I did not immediately agree. He made me wait and consider my position on a subject because, if I didn't, he would quickly tear my argument to shreds with his experienced logic.
I learned a lot from my dad back in those days. The older I get, though, the more I realize that he was right about so many things, including his predictions years ago about social programs and political and social trends.
I have long suspected that my Dad missed his calling as a professor or lecturer. Or, for those who know him, a calling to be a philosophical rabbi. He is a teacher. The skills he has demonstrated over the years, the way he explains difficult/philosophical/spiritual subject matter in a way anybody could understand, have been incorporated into the very core fibre of my being. I am the teacher I am because of him.
Since I've been married, though, I haven't had much of an opportunity to talk to him about any of the things we used to talk about. These days, there are always people around us, husband or kids or other family members, and it's hard to get his individual attention. He is a very proud and engaged "Grandpa" who puts our kids FIRST. And that's just how it should be: it's their turn!
If I get a chance to talk to my Dad alone, it is a rare gift, indeed. And because I don't often get this opportunity, I find myself at a loss in determining which topic to address. How do I determine what is MOST important?
Tonight, I had the rare opportunity to sit with him and talk alone. In the five to ten minutes we had, I jumped on the opportunity to ask him about a spiritual matter which had been troubling me of late.
His answer floored me.
I told him he needed a YouTube channel where he talked about important topics of modern relevance. I really wish everyone could hear my Dad speak. He's amazing!
Truly, he is the wisest man I know.
Growing up, and through adulthood, my dad and I would talk for hours on any variety of subjects--from philosophy and music to politics and spirituality. He himself is a great lecturer, and every time I get a chance to listen to him or talk to him, I realize that my lecturing skills were honed in our great debates of the first three decades of my life. Dad challenged me to think, to consider views he held with which I did not immediately agree. He made me wait and consider my position on a subject because, if I didn't, he would quickly tear my argument to shreds with his experienced logic.
I learned a lot from my dad back in those days. The older I get, though, the more I realize that he was right about so many things, including his predictions years ago about social programs and political and social trends.
I have long suspected that my Dad missed his calling as a professor or lecturer. Or, for those who know him, a calling to be a philosophical rabbi. He is a teacher. The skills he has demonstrated over the years, the way he explains difficult/philosophical/spiritual subject matter in a way anybody could understand, have been incorporated into the very core fibre of my being. I am the teacher I am because of him.
Since I've been married, though, I haven't had much of an opportunity to talk to him about any of the things we used to talk about. These days, there are always people around us, husband or kids or other family members, and it's hard to get his individual attention. He is a very proud and engaged "Grandpa" who puts our kids FIRST. And that's just how it should be: it's their turn!
If I get a chance to talk to my Dad alone, it is a rare gift, indeed. And because I don't often get this opportunity, I find myself at a loss in determining which topic to address. How do I determine what is MOST important?
Tonight, I had the rare opportunity to sit with him and talk alone. In the five to ten minutes we had, I jumped on the opportunity to ask him about a spiritual matter which had been troubling me of late.
His answer floored me.
I told him he needed a YouTube channel where he talked about important topics of modern relevance. I really wish everyone could hear my Dad speak. He's amazing!
Truly, he is the wisest man I know.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
The Song on My Heart Tonight
Tonight, after feeling led to read chapter three of Daniel, I attempted to let all of the meanings and messages in that chapter soak in. (I literally LOVE soaking up the Word of God! I wish I could sit all day and let it saturate every pore of my mind and spirit!)
As I thought about how I really need to invest some future quality devotion time into the further contemplation and dissection of this chapter, a song's chorus began to bubble forth in my consciousness.
Here's the chorus:
"But I know Whom I have believed
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I've committed
Unto Him against that day."
This chapter reminds me that I can totally TRUST GOD. There is NOTHING too big, too demanding, too impossible for my God. He can intervene, save, miraculously and masterfully manipulate the "laws" of our planet if He so desires. Anytime. And anywhere.
If He intervenes, He is still my God.
If He doesn't intervene, He is still my God.
He can and WILL do what is RIGHT.
But if I come out of this breathing, alive, I will come out PRAISING HIM because HE DID IT. He enabled me to walk out of the fire unscathed. The "heat" turned up in this world, in this hectic political/social environment in which we frustratingly find ourselves enmeshed is nothing MY GOD can't handle. And not just that, no. It's inconsequential.
I TRUST YOU, LORD. FOR EVERYTHING AND IN EVERYTHING.
Amen.
As I thought about how I really need to invest some future quality devotion time into the further contemplation and dissection of this chapter, a song's chorus began to bubble forth in my consciousness.
Here's the chorus:
"But I know Whom I have believed
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I've committed
Unto Him against that day."
This chapter reminds me that I can totally TRUST GOD. There is NOTHING too big, too demanding, too impossible for my God. He can intervene, save, miraculously and masterfully manipulate the "laws" of our planet if He so desires. Anytime. And anywhere.
If He intervenes, He is still my God.
If He doesn't intervene, He is still my God.
He can and WILL do what is RIGHT.
But if I come out of this breathing, alive, I will come out PRAISING HIM because HE DID IT. He enabled me to walk out of the fire unscathed. The "heat" turned up in this world, in this hectic political/social environment in which we frustratingly find ourselves enmeshed is nothing MY GOD can't handle. And not just that, no. It's inconsequential.
I TRUST YOU, LORD. FOR EVERYTHING AND IN EVERYTHING.
Amen.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Life-Changing Saturday: The Credentialing Ceremony
Tomorrow is the big day.
After two years of study and testing, Stephen and I will be receiving our Licenses through the Assemblies of God.
Tomorrow is a spiritually monumental day for us.
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After two years of study and testing, Stephen and I will be receiving our Licenses through the Assemblies of God.
Tomorrow is a spiritually monumental day for us.
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Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Project Gideon 2014: We ARE Going!
Yesterday in the office, I sat at my desk to compose my letter to the Project Gideon coordinator which detailed why we would be unable to attend the PG conference in February.
"I'm so sorry to have to write this..." I began, thinking about how I was going to admit in writing our lack of finances to attend this year's conference.
The words spilled out onto the screen.
"With all that is going on right now in our lives, we simply cannot budget this trip."
This summer, we took the missions trip of a lifetime to Florence, Italy, for 25 days. While it was AMAZING, and we had an amazing time and would go back in a heartbeat if God allowed, it really drained our resources. We are still recovering from that trip, financially. It takes time to have "extra" funds available again.
As I wrote the letter, I didn't want them to think that we were blowing off the conference, that it meant so little to us. I felt this urgency to express to them how much this conference had meant to Stephen and to myself.
"This conference has changed our lives," I said at one point. "Bishop Jakes has been a source of great inspiration to us." At another time, I referred to him as our "spiritual mentor" and "father figure."
And he is. He has been all of those things to us. Over two years ago, God directed me to that conference supernaturally. (Please read my first entry of this blog for more information.) We were DESTINED to attend that conference. Both years we have been, we have been encouraged, challenged, uplifted in Bishop's conference session.
Money could never BUY what we have experienced at that conference. It's a profoundly impacting, life-altering experience and opportunity.
"We are being Licensed as Assemblies of God ministers this Saturday, and I'm not sure we would have ever finished that labor and money intensive goal without having had the opportunity to be mentored at this conference for the past two years."
We don't have the money. We really don't.
We are getting licensed this weekend, and I would really like to have a new suit to wear. I'd really like to stay at a hotel with my family the night before. But it'll be okay. I know it will. I am trusting God for the gas and food money that will be required for the trip. I know He will provide.
But as I sat there, thinking that this coming weekend would be far easier if I didn't pay our tuition to the PG conference, that we could go in style and stay the night and wake up fresh the next morning and not have to worry about getting up and into the car and out of town in time to get there, tears started spilling out of my eyes and down my face.
"How can this be right," I asked myself. "How can this be the right thing to do if I'm sitting here crying, like I've lost something important to me?"
No. We had to go.
So I sent the PG coordinator the information she needed to keep our reservations.
Because some things in life are too important. They are VITAL for our survival. And we must trust GOD to provide.
He is the one who opened that miraculous door two years ago. There is no way we could have gotten in otherwise.
God put us in the company of great people for a reason.
I know that I know that I know that we are supposed to be there.
Project Gideon 2014: WE ARE GOING!!!!
"I'm so sorry to have to write this..." I began, thinking about how I was going to admit in writing our lack of finances to attend this year's conference.
The words spilled out onto the screen.
"With all that is going on right now in our lives, we simply cannot budget this trip."
This summer, we took the missions trip of a lifetime to Florence, Italy, for 25 days. While it was AMAZING, and we had an amazing time and would go back in a heartbeat if God allowed, it really drained our resources. We are still recovering from that trip, financially. It takes time to have "extra" funds available again.
As I wrote the letter, I didn't want them to think that we were blowing off the conference, that it meant so little to us. I felt this urgency to express to them how much this conference had meant to Stephen and to myself.
"This conference has changed our lives," I said at one point. "Bishop Jakes has been a source of great inspiration to us." At another time, I referred to him as our "spiritual mentor" and "father figure."
And he is. He has been all of those things to us. Over two years ago, God directed me to that conference supernaturally. (Please read my first entry of this blog for more information.) We were DESTINED to attend that conference. Both years we have been, we have been encouraged, challenged, uplifted in Bishop's conference session.
Money could never BUY what we have experienced at that conference. It's a profoundly impacting, life-altering experience and opportunity.
"We are being Licensed as Assemblies of God ministers this Saturday, and I'm not sure we would have ever finished that labor and money intensive goal without having had the opportunity to be mentored at this conference for the past two years."
We don't have the money. We really don't.
We are getting licensed this weekend, and I would really like to have a new suit to wear. I'd really like to stay at a hotel with my family the night before. But it'll be okay. I know it will. I am trusting God for the gas and food money that will be required for the trip. I know He will provide.
But as I sat there, thinking that this coming weekend would be far easier if I didn't pay our tuition to the PG conference, that we could go in style and stay the night and wake up fresh the next morning and not have to worry about getting up and into the car and out of town in time to get there, tears started spilling out of my eyes and down my face.
"How can this be right," I asked myself. "How can this be the right thing to do if I'm sitting here crying, like I've lost something important to me?"
No. We had to go.
So I sent the PG coordinator the information she needed to keep our reservations.
Because some things in life are too important. They are VITAL for our survival. And we must trust GOD to provide.
He is the one who opened that miraculous door two years ago. There is no way we could have gotten in otherwise.
God put us in the company of great people for a reason.
I know that I know that I know that we are supposed to be there.
Project Gideon 2014: WE ARE GOING!!!!
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Meeting a Boy: Destiny or DESTINY?
Meeting a Boy:
Last night, my niece Serai starred as Annie Oakley in a Ft. Smith production of "Annie Get Your Gun." During intermission, something happened that makes me wonder it was "the norm" for me, or something more.
A little boy behind us, a few seats down, looked directly at me and introduced himself. I told him hello. He never stopped talking, and rarely stopped looking directly at me, opening up and talking about whatever was on his mind.
His family members behind me--whom I would discover were his grandparents--kindly assured me that he "never meets a stranger."
But the little boy wasn't talking to anyone else. There were four of us in a row: Me, Psalm, Desi, and Heather, and I was the farthest from him. Psalm usually gets all of the attention with kids when they see her and she them. But not this time. When I introduced ourselves, including Psalm, he asked me her name twice so he could tell his mother Psalm's name. But he kept looking at me.
He had an honest, open face. He was aware, alert, smiling, talkative and friendly. In some ways, he reminded me of my Aunt Sue's grandchildren, Levi and his brother.
The little boy introduced me to his entire family--they nearly took up every seat on the back row and had come to see the boy's cousin in the show--and the entire family was warm, kind, obviously Christians. I spoke easily with all of them.
The people sitting directly behind me were the boy's grandparents, and when the boy was taken to the restroom, I didn't notice so much that he was limping--I thought, like many kids, he was just clumsily, excitedly trying to navigate in between relatives legs and the seats in front of him.
But when they were gone, his grandmother told me that the little boy has a deteriorating hip/leg bone which made it very difficult for him to walk and move. They've been taking him to Little Rock to the Children's Hospital there. He will have to have a total hip replacement surgery.
They were quite open about this, and I spoke with them candidly about this, their retirement from 16 years in the chicken business, and their Sunday, after church, luncheons together. They were great, sweet, honest, hard-working people who were clearly Christians.
When the boy came back, he spoke with me again--just me. I told him he's so good at meeting people that he should be a politician, "a good one!" I noted.
His mom told me that they thought he would be a politician or a pastor.
I wouldn't be surprised.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Destiny or DESTINY?
These days, I don't believe that anything happens by accident.
As I watched this boy communicate, and realized he was speaking directly to me and no one else, and my interaction with him was not awkward but, rather, flowed naturally and good-naturedly, I ascertained quickly that this was a divine appointment. Things like this don't "just happen."
I try to drop everything and pay attention to the moment when "unusual" things like this transpire before my eyes. I feel like I'm either supposed to be there for someone else--waiting for that opportune moment to pray for someone or advise them or speak love or hope or truth into their situation--or I feel like God is going to speak to me directly about something. Or both.
For the first few minutes, I listened to the boy. I couldn't help thinking, "Did he just need someone to talk to? But why me? Why me?" What a fine boy. He looked healthy, seemed good-natured, happy. As he talked, I saw his family, looked at him, then them, one by one, trying to let them know that I was a friendly face. Again, "Psalm is right next to me; why isn't he speaking to her? Why me? God, what is my purpose here? To listen? To validate his voice? To encourage him?"
I KNEW, though, that I was living in a moment of DESTINY when his grandparents spoke these words "Little Rock Children's Hospital." At that phrase, I realized all at once that THIS was connected to THAT other experience of mine. The one in Dallas.
On a family vacation last year in Dallas, I was sitting in a waiting area, totally minding my own business, when a little boy came over to me, closer and closer and closer, talking to me. I had been taken aback by the entire situation--the child left his family and came closer, closer, nearly sitting in my lap. He just talked to me, like I was Santa or something. Like he was drawn to me. I had just talked to him, like I'd known him forever. It had been awkward because, then, I felt like something was happening that I didn't quite understand. And, after the child left me there in Dallas, Stephen told me that his mother had finally called him over to give him cancer treatments. I hadn't even seen that, honestly. I had no idea.
I blogged about it, too. Knowing that that moment in Dallas was SOMETHING, some part of destiny.
But now? Well, now I'm wondering if it has more to do with DESTINY, my DESTINY.
The little boy in Dallas? A year and a half ago. Then the Ft. Smith boy. I do not think this to be coincidence.
I feel like I have just received two major puzzle pieces to my life destiny.
Ultimately, I turn to the Word of God as my finishing thought for this second experience: Luke 2:19: "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart."
And that's exactly what I will do. Prayerfully ponder these things.
Amen.
Last night, my niece Serai starred as Annie Oakley in a Ft. Smith production of "Annie Get Your Gun." During intermission, something happened that makes me wonder it was "the norm" for me, or something more.
A little boy behind us, a few seats down, looked directly at me and introduced himself. I told him hello. He never stopped talking, and rarely stopped looking directly at me, opening up and talking about whatever was on his mind.
His family members behind me--whom I would discover were his grandparents--kindly assured me that he "never meets a stranger."
But the little boy wasn't talking to anyone else. There were four of us in a row: Me, Psalm, Desi, and Heather, and I was the farthest from him. Psalm usually gets all of the attention with kids when they see her and she them. But not this time. When I introduced ourselves, including Psalm, he asked me her name twice so he could tell his mother Psalm's name. But he kept looking at me.
He had an honest, open face. He was aware, alert, smiling, talkative and friendly. In some ways, he reminded me of my Aunt Sue's grandchildren, Levi and his brother.
The little boy introduced me to his entire family--they nearly took up every seat on the back row and had come to see the boy's cousin in the show--and the entire family was warm, kind, obviously Christians. I spoke easily with all of them.
The people sitting directly behind me were the boy's grandparents, and when the boy was taken to the restroom, I didn't notice so much that he was limping--I thought, like many kids, he was just clumsily, excitedly trying to navigate in between relatives legs and the seats in front of him.
But when they were gone, his grandmother told me that the little boy has a deteriorating hip/leg bone which made it very difficult for him to walk and move. They've been taking him to Little Rock to the Children's Hospital there. He will have to have a total hip replacement surgery.
They were quite open about this, and I spoke with them candidly about this, their retirement from 16 years in the chicken business, and their Sunday, after church, luncheons together. They were great, sweet, honest, hard-working people who were clearly Christians.
When the boy came back, he spoke with me again--just me. I told him he's so good at meeting people that he should be a politician, "a good one!" I noted.
His mom told me that they thought he would be a politician or a pastor.
I wouldn't be surprised.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Destiny or DESTINY?
These days, I don't believe that anything happens by accident.
As I watched this boy communicate, and realized he was speaking directly to me and no one else, and my interaction with him was not awkward but, rather, flowed naturally and good-naturedly, I ascertained quickly that this was a divine appointment. Things like this don't "just happen."
I try to drop everything and pay attention to the moment when "unusual" things like this transpire before my eyes. I feel like I'm either supposed to be there for someone else--waiting for that opportune moment to pray for someone or advise them or speak love or hope or truth into their situation--or I feel like God is going to speak to me directly about something. Or both.
For the first few minutes, I listened to the boy. I couldn't help thinking, "Did he just need someone to talk to? But why me? Why me?" What a fine boy. He looked healthy, seemed good-natured, happy. As he talked, I saw his family, looked at him, then them, one by one, trying to let them know that I was a friendly face. Again, "Psalm is right next to me; why isn't he speaking to her? Why me? God, what is my purpose here? To listen? To validate his voice? To encourage him?"
I KNEW, though, that I was living in a moment of DESTINY when his grandparents spoke these words "Little Rock Children's Hospital." At that phrase, I realized all at once that THIS was connected to THAT other experience of mine. The one in Dallas.
On a family vacation last year in Dallas, I was sitting in a waiting area, totally minding my own business, when a little boy came over to me, closer and closer and closer, talking to me. I had been taken aback by the entire situation--the child left his family and came closer, closer, nearly sitting in my lap. He just talked to me, like I was Santa or something. Like he was drawn to me. I had just talked to him, like I'd known him forever. It had been awkward because, then, I felt like something was happening that I didn't quite understand. And, after the child left me there in Dallas, Stephen told me that his mother had finally called him over to give him cancer treatments. I hadn't even seen that, honestly. I had no idea.
I blogged about it, too. Knowing that that moment in Dallas was SOMETHING, some part of destiny.
But now? Well, now I'm wondering if it has more to do with DESTINY, my DESTINY.
The little boy in Dallas? A year and a half ago. Then the Ft. Smith boy. I do not think this to be coincidence.
I feel like I have just received two major puzzle pieces to my life destiny.
Ultimately, I turn to the Word of God as my finishing thought for this second experience: Luke 2:19: "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart."
And that's exactly what I will do. Prayerfully ponder these things.
Amen.
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