Stand by My Side

Please don't
Walk away,
Even for 
A moment.
I need you
To stand by 
My side.
Even if you stay 
Silent
For this moment.
I need you
Here.

Time will tell
What truth to this threat
Reveals; until then,
Please don't
Leave me alone.
Please don't 
Abandon me 
To a possible invasion
Of our love.

I grew up 
With people
Who grew silent
In the face of threats.
Scared of what demons
Could be unleashed
In anger, they became mute
When their words
Were the protection I needed.
I grew silent myself, wondering
Where and why
My guardians chose to reside
Instead of beside me.
In their absence,
I was left to words that stung
Like wolves with teeth like daggers.   

You wonder how you may lead.
You wonder if I will give you the chance.
I want to.  
But will you be my guard 
When another may undermine
What we have?
I need you to stand.
Even if
You are silent 

Until God gives you the strength
And words to confront;
Until then I can speak,
But will you stand 
Beside my body so 
He has no chance 
To think he may have a chance?
Treasures are meant
To be protected.
So, will you please 
Take a stand
Beside me?

I know a fire
Brews inside you,
And you fear 
You will cease to contain it.
The grace God has given you
Has been emptied for an enemy.
But could God give you the courage
To stand and pray when you 
Have run out?
Could God give you the heart
For redemption
In the way it was given you?
Is your fleeing 
Because God has been speaking,
Or out of fear?

I know 
Neither of us 
Can do this
Alone.  
In this moment,
I feel surrounded
By pain.
Yet, I know
Even in my tears,
Our Father is surrounding us.
I don't know 
What the answer should be
Or how long we must battle.
What I do know is
We will win
When we are together.

Waiting

I always said 

I was waiting for the one You brought me.  

Never had a man to call my own, 

Before; it is easy to say.  

But the past dreams I wrote 

In secret 

Prove I never waited.  

Or...

I stopped waiting 

Long before I confessed.  

I poured out myself, longing to be loved - 

Justifying it,
Because who else 

Would cherish me the way You do? 

 
I did not wait.  

I have stirred up love before its time. 

And now that You have brought the one 

Who You meant for me, my heart refuses to remain patient.  

Why should I?!  Haven't I waited long enough?  

Oh, but wait.  

I haven't.

All those moments 

Where I brought imaginary men into my bed

Are the moments I must admit my guilt.  

You have called me out.  

If these men were real,

Would these men or their families feel like 

I raped them mentally?  

I had them in the bed of my mind 

Without their consent.  After all, that's how I felt 

When a man asked for my body, 

Even though he never touched me.

Oh, but the touch!  

Isn't that what I long for?  

In my separation from family and newfound loneliness, 

I wondered who would love me as me. 

I missed the welcoming hugs that invited me 

Into a home greater than my own.  I leaned into 

The imaginations like I did when I was a child.  

Alone, felt unloved; 

I would mind my own

And create the belonging I so craved for.

I should be grateful 

That the man You gave me is a delight to my senses.  

However, the forgotten sensations 

In adolescence are woken again, 

And I don't want to sleep again.  

My childhood ignorance met my adult sin...

And with the kiss of his love, 

My patience does not want its perfect gift.  

Desire for him grows;

To convince me to wait 

Only makes me frustrated 

That I cannot take hold of what has been promised to me.

Can I just have a peek?  

"Can I just have a poke," 

Is more like the lust that screams, "NOW" 

When You say, "Not yet".  

Deception has its perfect lie 

When it grasps onto the complete truth, 

But takes one step out of line.  

And my mind is convinced that because he will be, 

Treat him as is.

Oh God, sanctify my heart, 

And renew my mind.  

Restore the innocence of my soul 

That was shattered years ago.  

     Help me to wait.

A Response to the Cessationist Argument

Taken from a Facebook post

     Tongues aren't gibberish. I agree. They are a holy language between a person and God. It is a way to speak to God, when we do not know what to pray (Romans 8; 1 Corinthians 14). Prophecy - as vague impressions, can allow for someone to have a word of knowledge to explain what is on God's heart. Prophecy is not a "Christian form of fortune telling". Moreover, when I have seen prophetic words given, mostly, it isn't in a vague impression. The way that God gives me a word is often a Scripture, and then I ask God what He is wanting to say. Sometimes we want more specific words; my experience has shown me that a prophetic word has been just a step of direction, but not a complete blueprint of God's plan. And it is also meant to be coupled with confirming words (to back the 2-3 witnesses needed). Prophetic words are not scriptural, so yes, they need to be weighed and prayed through/for. Prophecy is hearing what is on God's heart to speak to people.
     As for healing...this is a tough one, because I think so many people have been hurt. I can't tell you how many times I went up to be prayed for to be healed, and my hand is the same. It is very easy to say that healing must happen automatically. Or, to spare ourselves from disappointment, we simply pray, "God, if it is Your will," and create a safe prayer. I think God honors bold prayers. This isn't to say we should do what some charismatics have done which is "name it and claim it". Rather, I can see what God has done, and I say, "God, I ask..." knowing that His timeline for healing is broader than my own. But I still am hopeful and expectant. God does heal in progress, in heaven, but I have seen Him immediately. I have seen shoulders healed, a student come out of a car accident alive when they should have died immediately, rheumatoid arthritis disappear, and even my own leg grew.
     I think - and I may be incorrect about this - that many who side on that the charismatic gifts being unbiblical, or dead are 1) from a Western perspective and/or 2) have been hurt in some way by people who have used those gifts immaturely or incorrectly. On the Western perspective- we have grown so reliant on our technology and intellectualism - especially with the matter of enlightenment and atheism abounding, why else would we need God to move in great ways? We can just think about "what should be said". But those in nonWestern cultures, I don't know...hey understand there is a spiritual realm, and therefore, need spiritual intervening. I know we, in America, do still have need of Jesus - and we find ourselves in great distress, which leads to my second point.
     We often have been hurt when the gifts have been used incorrectly or immaturely. Incorrect, meaning there is intention to harm, immature due to people really wanting to share God's love and heart, but may have misspoke, misheard, or misunderstood. God is perfect, and there is no error in Him. But, we still being human, still can fail. We have been saved by grace, and we work through grace. But we see and know in part (see end of 1 Corinthians 13). That is why prophetic words are to be weighed. I have often felt prophetic words are supposed to be used to confirm what God is already saying, not necessarily supposed to be the starting point. When we use the prophetic as the start, then we decide to make it into a fortune telling. Words of knowledge are a means to pray for someone, and if led to share, do so that will bring Christ's love and grace into the conversation. And ALWAYS, when sharing, I don't say, "God said", but rather, "I feel God is saying....does this make sense". This allows people to give room for the Holy Spirit to check and weigh the word. I was in Mexico last February, and received prophetic words and words of knowledge that were ON POINT. And these people spoke a different language, and never met me. There is NO WAY they could have known my heart for missions, other than that God - because HE knows me - revealed that. And the thing about prophetic words...like healings, their fruits are not always immediate.
     I think that is where we often make the mistake. And I do understand that in the Bible, Jesus healed and it was immediate. But what of the man who was blind, and the first time that he was prayed for, he saw people as if they were trees? What of the man who was healed when Peter and John prayed for him (Acts 4); he waited 38 YEARS for healing- and I bet you, he prayed. It doesn't mean that God didn't want to heal, but God's glory - in the healing - was for a set appointed time. And God's glory is still revealed even in the waiting (see Hebrews 11). We want God to work so much NOW and in certain ways, that if God speaks or moves, we either cynically say, "FINALLY, God did something [scoffing attitude]," or we can miss it altogether.
     God still moves. I know it, scripturally (are we going to deny 1 Corinthians 12-16?), as well as through experience. People have walked in those gifts wrong; and yes, I have been hurt too, but I have seen it done right, with care and compassion and wisdom. Now, this is the purpose of those gifts: I believe they are needed, because God still remains the God He was, and He desires to show His love and grace even in tangible ways. I believe He remains a relational God who still speaks (and note: prophetic words are NOT to counter Scripture, and if they are specific, then carry with a soft hand) and wants to communicate with His people. Most of all, they are to glorify Him and introduce Him to people. And walking with Him, the Holy Spirit continues to speak (it's not just to get people saved).
     I have learned to be dependent on God, and I have grown to trust Him, and ask Him for bold things. But I also trust that my Daddy is sovereign and will take care of things, even if it's not exactly how I had asked for. This includes timing, specific places, people, and ways. But I can say that I know that the gifts are needed in that they help share the Gospel. This isn't to promise that if people believe in Jesus, all there problems will be resolved, but God speaking and continuing to heal reveal God's heart for us.

Singleness is Not a Season

Obtained from
Google Images

"Enjoy this season,” many well-meaning married Christians say to singles.  As if, there is a point to their specific status of uno.  Granted, being single and living a godly life introduces a need for maturation, but that comes with age, anyway.  However, the main concern that is prevalent is how often being single is used as an excuse for a season of preparation for something more…as if marriage is the end goal.  I do not disagree with the sentiment that while in singleness, one should be growing in character.  However, why is singleness described as a season as if it is something to pass from into something else?     Because seasons change.  And though I am at the stage in life where I am in a romantic relationship with someone, I still remember the pains I had being a single person.  I remember feeling like I wasn’t catching anyone’s eyes, and wondering how much I was supposed to grow in order to finally attract someone.  I wondered if I had some character defect I was supposed to work out before meeting someone…which only then left me feeling I had to become the perfect person before meeting my perfect person.  I remember feeling left out of certain friends’ circles, because they were couples and I was not.     That hurt.  And I never felt like I was going to be enough to be enough for someone.  Moreover, and this is the problem with describing singleness as a season is - unlike seasons, what if someone’s relationship status never changes?  There are people who do not get married, whether or not it was their desire.  What do we say of those who chose to stay single in order to use their life as a full-time ministry?  Oh wait.  We are okay with that, because then it is a gift of the Holy Spirit.      We can unintentionally judge Christians who are single, because we continually say, “enjoy this season”, when we do not consider that this “season” may or may not pass.  And that is the problem.  We can often discuss marriage as a higher season (wait, isn't that a life-long commitment?) to reach; and if it isn’t that, then it is having children.  “I learn more about God’s unconditional love in my marriage season,” or “I understood the depth of God’s love when I became a parent.”  Can singles learn this, too?  And I am not discounting the claims of the lessons I am learning in having dated.  I just want to make sure we are not discounting our single people from the lessons that God has for them, regardless of their relationship status.     We have often made marriage the goal for life-long happiness.  I know many mothers who have pointed out men to their daughters, in the name of “just wanting them to be happy”.  What makes them being single a determining factor that they are not happy?  I actually enjoyed my singleness while in my twenties.  It was the being left out that was the hang-up for me.  Even in singleness, I still needed community.     Now, for any single person reading this, I may come across as another newly-engaged person telling some advice that isn’t wanted.  However, considering that my fiancé was my first and only boyfriend, and I was single for a long time before meeting him, I think I have some understanding of what it is like to be “in the single season”.  And if willing to read on, this is what I wish to say:

    I want you to go after all that God has for you.  Whether you are single, dating, engaged or married.  Seek after Him with your whole heart, and follow His lead.  He is always at work, and He chooses to work His story in you,  with you, as well as in your life.  I would much rather encourage you to jump in whatever God has in store, for every chapter (year) of your life, rather than calling this stage of your life a season.  Single or not, God will bring people beside you in the forms of friends, family and if it comes, a marriage life partner.     Take this time to invest what God has for you, because the reality is, it isn’t going to stop when in a relationship with someone.  Enjoy the moments of happiness, and mourn the moments that bring tears.  And these will happen in marriage, too.  Start reflecting on your character, and where God convicts, address it.  But do not expect that you have to have it all figured out by the time you may meet someone.  Just prepare the habit, because when you start knowing someone, trust me, you’ll realize that you’ll get to know more about yourself, too.  Nevertheless, allowing God’s grace to have its perfect work is something we Christians are supposed to do, anyway, whether we have a ring or not.     Recognize that your wholeness is never grounded in what you can do, or in the being of another to stand next to you.  Ain’t it a funny thing that we do have a tendency to define ourselves by our accomplishments, and others by their existence?  However, the worth of any and all beings is solely defined by the Creator who formed them.  YOU were created for such a time as this, God loves you, and desires to walk with you in the fullness of your life.  As frightening as that sounds, it is a comfort, because He already unconditionally loves you.  And whatever you accomplish for Jesus’ name has already been predestined  by His plan for you, and is enabled by His grace.  So, will you stand and go forth?     Because the Church needs you.  We need our single people to go forth in all that God has.  Not because we think you have so much more time to serve than us.  That is, admittedly, an immature way at looking at ministry.  (Because even in marriage and parenthood, we do not cease to be called as ambassadors of Jesus’ sacrifice.)  No, we need you, because God has created you each, specifically with distinct personalities, interests, gifts, desires and passions.  And you are able to jump into them, now.       As someone who is in a relationship, I want to let my single friends know: I still need you in my circle.  I still need your perspective, your friendship and your prayers.  If I decided to walk away from friends, because they are not married, who else will I have in my corner?  Yes, I can say, “Other married couples, of course!”  But where will the gift of my single friends be, if I forgot them?  I’m so sorry that we have made marriage an idol, and only include you if you are interested in relationships, or when we have a service project.  We have called singleness a season, as if you are supposed to prepare for something other than what God has for you.  And frankly, if singleness is only a season, then what will that say when some of you will not marry?     The truth is, you are the gift.  Aside from your relationship status, occupation, accomplishments, mistakes, or experience - YOU are the gift.  And the Church needs you, because, as a Christian single, you are part of the family. 

     I am grieved how singleness has been addressed, or treated in the larger sphere of the Western church culture.  It isn’t a season.  People should always be growing, and yes, when one is single, it is important to be learning about yourself before anyone comes into your life.  However, can we PU-LEASE stop making singles feel like they have to go through some initiation before we include them in ministry…or more so, as part of our lives?  I wonder if singles are only included in larger spheres of people and conversations when the topic is too general, or when they can help with something (“You’re free, so can you babysit?”).  Can they be chosen as friends, brothers and sisters?      The Church is a family that is made up of many parts.  And we need every single person (no pun intended).  We need our children, as well as our elders.  We need the ones who haven’t said “I do” yet, and the ones who have.  We need the clean-cuts, and the rough bunch.  We step into arrogance, when we believe that because someone else doesn’t have a shared life experience, that we somehow have no need to be in relationship (i.e. friendship) with them.  Jesus died for the world, saved us by His grace, and unified us by His love.  Let us live as such.

My Love Story Thus Far

  

I really set myself up, going into my internship.  Though I had let go of the idea that I had to be married to be happy or fulfilled - finally understood that my life could be well spent even if I had no family of my own - I still joked that maybe I would meet someone.  Well, there was this one guy…of course, this is my telling of our tale, but finally sharing the love story that God has written for me remains to be a blessing and privilege.     Jerrad Coons would tell you that the very day I walked through the doors of Destination Church on September 18, 2022, he was completely smitten.  For me, it didn’t take too much longer.  Within a month, most specifically, when our church had a game night, I took notice of him, as well.  His long hair, beautiful and dark brown eyes, and the tattoos told me that this guy was not your “suit ‘em up” kind of man.  Quiet, but very observant.  I thought him cute.  But wisdom told me that I needed to make an acquaintance of this man to see if the first impressions were matching up.  Furthermore, my heart at this time was still holding onto the hope of going back to the Rez.  It was ill-suited to stir up a romance if I was going to leave, anyway.     As my internship went on, I was cleaning the church, and when I needed someone to take over those duties as I increased my school subbing, my pastor suggested that I contact Jerrad.  With the two of us, the cleaning would have been finished in two hours.  In reality, it took double the time, because…well, we talked.  And talked quite a bit. Mostly minor things, but usually centered on background family life, as well as thoughts on politics, the Bible and ministry.  I really liked cleaning the church with Jerrad, and noticed that I was looking forward to Sundays a bit more, as well.     I kept this all under wraps, however.  Again, if I was going to leave - which I still believed that I was as of February 2023 - then why keep stirring things up?  God was revealing that I needed to let go of the Rez, but frankly, I was still holding onto old hopes and dreams.  Nevertheless, even if my interests were masked to the man himself, I told my brother and my mentor. And, boy, the mercy they gave me.  Every little thing that Jerrad said or did, I questioned, “Does he like me?”  My brother just met Jerrad as of last Friday, but he has known about my interest for a year now.  My mentor wanted me to work through this Bible study on breaking free from old wounds, but almost every week we met, I HAD to bring up this guy I couldn’t keep my mind off.       It wasn’t the bad boy that I was interested in.  Okay.  Maybe not completely.  There was something about him that I could tell he was rough around the edges.  I have grown up knowing that I wanted to do missions and probably wouldn’t have your usual picket-fence kind of life.  I wanted the forgotten ones.  And the man that I wanted to marry had to be someone who wanted to go after those who people would otherwise be discarded.  He had to not be afraid of the shadows.  My heart also needed a safe place where I could discuss matters important to faith and health, but also cheerful enough to make me laugh.     One of my favorite memories when we cleaned the church consisted of him finding a homeless man camped out behind our building.  “Laura, what should we do?”  I suggested we do what our pastor has often done: while having to evict the person we could offer a cup of hot coffee or water.  On the way to giving the man water, Jerrad piped up, “If we get shot, it’s been real!”  Ha ha!!  I still laugh about it (and for family and friends - Jerrad would have made sure that he would have protected me).     Jerrad and I remained as friends at church all through my internship.  The irony is that I never caught on to his interest in me.  Even when he would act like he was going to trip me, while I was cleaning. Even with his willingness to help with whatever I needed. Even when he gave me two packs of gum.  Okay.  That actually made me wonder, but I was told friends give friends gifts.  Even going into the summer and while we hung out, I held onto my secret, but I figured we were just friends.     We would go for walks.  I’d call him up to help me move things into my new apartment.  We even would have dinner together.  Now, this is where men would laugh and go, “Yeah, that’s a date,” but I still had no clue!  Maybe it was naivety or being a blonde, but while I liked this amazing man, I only hoped he liked me back.  Then August 14th came up.     There was an ultimate frisbee game, and as the evening grew into night, Jerrad and I remained at the park while everyone else left.  Seated, Jerrad asked me, “Why do you like to hang out with me?”     “Because I think you are cool,” I replied.  He wasn’t buying it.  “No, really.  Why do you like to hang out with me?  And don’t just say ‘because I’m cool’.”  I answered truthfully, “I enjoy your company and being able to talk with you.  And I feel protected and safe with you.”  Our conversation continued on, and I mentioned something about men with long hair, and beards.  “Well, that answers my third question,” Jerrad commented.      “What’s your third question,” I asked.     “What kind of men are you interested in?”     “Why do you want to know?” (See how I beat around the bush?  Truth is, I wanted to tell Jerrad I liked him, but I wanted him to be the first to say it.)  With a deep breath, he finally confessed, “Because I like you and I think you are cute... I had a crush on you since you came, and I don’t just think you are cute.  I think you are beautiful.”  It was out in the air, and the romantic I am, I responded, “Ditto.”  We talked some more and connected the dots over the last year.  We revealed how we tried to show we liked each other, and how we still were trying to keep it under wraps.  Relieved to know we share the same interest, we decided at that moment that we would date exclusively.     It didn’t take long for me to fall for Jerrad.  Even by Labor Day, I was asking God if it was too early to admit that I loved him.  In my waiting, I figured out what kind of man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with; moreover, the kind of man I needed.  I wanted a man who I could have shared interests and shared values.  I wanted a man who had a hospitality heart, and was willing to help.  I wanted a man whom I can discuss anything with, especially my faith.  Growing up, feeling like I was too much when I tried to discuss faith, it was such a safe place to find that Jerrad and I talked about what God was teaching each of us, as well as things that we identified as needs for our neighborhood.     I wanted a man who was willing to move where God is calling us. I needed a man who has a compassionate heart, but could also help curb my overextension in ministry involvement, and to focus on the actual thing God is proposing for us.  I needed a man who treated me with care and the utmost respect - and boy, does he ever! I wanted a man who was down to earth and willing to step up.  I wanted a man who wanted to reach out to the unwanted.  I wanted a man who was willing to develop his own relationship with Jesus, with and without me.  I wanted a man whom I could have an adventure of a life with, extending out to neighbors.  And in all of these things, Jerrad is.     This last weekend, Jerrad asked for permission from my dad for my hand.  My father said yes, and soon after, so did I.  We are hoping to be married in the springtime.  I know that for friends and family, this seems all of a sudden.  Might feel rushed.  And yet, things were clicking, and they continue to click.  On a regular basis, I am amazed at what kind of man Jerrad Dean Coons is, and who God is growing him to be.  He will tell you he is still learning, but both of us are.  Neither of us are perfect - for no human is - but we have found that we are each other’s perfect fit, and I am excited to spend the rest of my life with him.     As I look back on our story, I also see God at work in my own life, personally.  I remember being in my 20s wondering if there was something wrong with me, because I wasn’t getting hitched. I wondered how much I had to mature spiritually before I was fit to be wed.  Men had caught my eye, but all for the wrong reasons, and it was God’s protection that nothing ever progressed into an actual relationship.  I am so thankful that in the waiting, God revealed the perfect man for me.

Engaged on October 6, 2023

    And perfectly, like in God’s fashion, He went above and beyond what I asked or thought (see Ephesians 3:20).  For me, the fact that Jerrad sees me - not just as cute, but beautiful - whether I’m in jeans, a dress, or even in my sports shorts is incredible.  I thought I had to fit into a specific box to be seen as feminine, but he already sees me as such.  And yes, he loves cooking and cleaning!  Now, I’m not going to put all the household duties on him.  In fact, we like the idea of cooking and dividing house chores evenly.  Nevertheless, here was a man who didn’t expect me to be the stereotypical woman to be worthy of his love.  My character, personality and how I carried myself - the way that God intended - was enough for him.     I am so happy, but I am so thankful for how God worked in my love story.  It wasn’t like the chick flicks would write, but it was perfect.  I am grateful that Jerrad and I began our acquaintances as friends, and had that foundation as we progressed getting to know one another. And he really has become my best friend.  We can talk about anything, ask questions, and inquire together how God wants to lead.  I absolutely love it! And as we have engaged ourselves to be married, now we have begun dreaming, wondering what God has in store for us.  Only time will tell what God has yet to reveal.

Reflections from a 2015 Invasion

 From September 17, 2015
     

     My emotions have been swirling the last couple of days due to something that happened on Facebook.  In short, a man sent me a very inappropriate message (he asked to have sex with me for $100, and to video it).  Then, I found out that he did the same thing to one of my students.  I have felt disgusted, sad, angry, and lastly, I felt hatred.  It's not wrong to be angry; I know I'm angry for all the right reasons.  But anytime I thought about this guy, I felt a temper rise, and would imagine what I'd do if I could see him.
     But God says that "Vengeance is mine." (Romans 12:19).  So, according to the Bible, I'm supposed to forgive this guy.  Not as easy as it sounds.  Like I said, every time I thought about what happened, I would either become sad or angry.  However, finally letting God know the honesty of how I truly felt, I realized that I had to forgive him, and let God.  Sin is sin, and all separate us from our Heavenly Creator Father; all are in need of His mercy.  This man is not my enemy; the perversion that's seeded in him is.  This man is just a pawn...
     Don't get me wrong.  I still want justice.  I want this man found, caught, tried and finally, put away.  I wish what happened, didn't, but I know that God is greater than any of the devil's schemes.  Nevertheless, in the span of eternity, I hope that this man will be able to come to know Jesus Christ.
     I wrote a poem, and it has helped me heal, and I hope that it can help others heal as well.  If anyone has questions, I understand. Go ahead and ask.  God bless.

“Dissipate the Rage that Wants to Hate”
“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” –Romans 12:21

He asked for my body;
He offered a price.
Now, I hear that he’s gone after my sisters;
He’s asked for our daughters.

I am grieved.
How dare this man define our worth as women
To be found in the bedroom?
To shame us to believe our hearts will never be desired.
Though he spoke through a cyber-screen,
How dare he introduce fear, making us look
Over our shoulders at night, making sure
No one is following?

I am angry.
Righteous indignation is rising
For purity wronged;
For innocence gone.
I wish I could have shielded my sisters
From such a monster.
What I wish I could do if I met him…
Abba Daddy, my hands carry a deep red rage.

But I know.
My war is not with flesh.
But God, it sure is hard to not hate
An enemy with a face.
How do you pray for someone who preyed on us?
I know I should forgive, but I don’t know if I can.
I desire Justice.
God will You be it?

Broken heart, realize
Mercy was given to the undeserved.
Oh, how deep a wound
We hold in all humanity’s soul!
How massive the grace
Found on the cross
Covered with blood not meant to save
Just the sinners that were “good” like me.

Proud of These Scars

My daddy always
Told me to be proud
Of my scars.  They are 
The marks that tell stories
Of the wars waged
In life;
Real or imagined,
In play or in strife.
When the fire burns,
And a decision is made
To run toward the flame,
Not away,
These cracks in the skin are
The evidence of courage
Tried and won.

But as I gaze
Across my body and see
The scars I bear,
Shame encompasses their tales.
A rope wrapped around the neck;
Stomach pains produced from
A self-inflicted poisoning;
Lines along the forearm reveal where
I called a knife a friend in a moment.
There are more.
How can pride be found
When the marks borne
Revealed I fought a battle
Calling myself the enemy?

But there is Another 
Who bears scars.
Inflicted on His behalf,
Descended from heaven
To adopt the guilty charge 
That was my own.
I stand ashamed.
However, the King
Who became a criminal 
For my sake
Demands that I refuse to retain
The refuse of my past.
The burden borne is
No longer mine;
I do not stand condemned.

His innocence exchanged
For my guilt, pain, and suffering.
His body broken so
That I might be healed
Wholly.
So the specks I wear now
Are evidence of a war
Already won;
The cross and empty tomb
Of Jesus defeating
the satanic enemy
Who abhorrently hates
And cunningly deceives.
His love compelled Him

And now I stand

Justified in His stead.
These scars reveal a grace
That goes deeper than my shame.
My face is His delight 
As He calls me His child;
His face is my delight
As I call Him my Redeemer.

How Labor Day Revealed God's Grace

It was Sunday eve of Labor Day.  My boyfriend and I were sitting in his car talking.  We had been dating for two months, but an official couple for three weeks.  Another blog will have to tell the story, but both of us realize that neither of us are in this for kicks.  We truly feel like this is going towards marriage.  The poor man - using all the self-control he has to restrain himself - had the toughest time when I said, “no touch”.  By that Sunday evening, I had heard from well-intentioned Christians say, “Ask God to lead,” but also say, “It’s okay to do…”  So, I figured a hug was okay.     The hug lingered.  He held me so close, and for so long.  While in the car, he held me.  And I liked it.  Very much.  But even in being with the man that I know I want to spend the rest of my life with, I was wrestling.  Something was off despite enjoying being with him.  A reminder that I was blurring the lines.  Thankfully, we didn’t make out.  The way we kept holding onto each other, we were lucky.  No.  It was God’s protection that we didn’t push the buttons more than we had. 
    Though I loved what happened, even when I returned home and talked to my mom, I felt a grieving begin.  By the next morning, I was repenting, knowing I dishonored God and the man I’m with by not standing firm.  It’s not that a hug is a sin.  But, considering my history with romantic fantasies, a hug with the man I love is WAY too much of a trigger for me to fall haphazardly into old ways of thinking.  If there was to be any physical touch, it would have to be minimal and something else.     But first I had to repent.  My boyfriend and I were burned.  Later that day, we talked.  We repented to and forgave one another.  We had to backtrack on what touch would be okay.  However, in all this - navigation is our favorite word to describe learning to walk godly in a relationship - where I failed, I found God’s grace.     Immediately after realizing what I had done, I came quickly to my parents who were visiting for the weekend.  My dad - bless his heart for being soft-toned when he easily wanted to cuss both of us out - gave us godly wisdom.  Moreover, my heavenly Father reassured me how my standing as His righteous daughter wasn’t abandoned, because of my actions.  He reminded me through my devotions. Reading through Romans, God reminded me that He justified me, rather than my own actions.  He died for me - not when I proved I was a good person - but while I was still a sinner.  Yes, I was burned.  Yes, I needed to learn something.  But God, in His discipline, values teaching me to become more like Him, instead of punitively punishing me for not meeting His standards.  Rather than condemning myself for my actions, I found myself sitting in peace, because God’s grace stands firm even when I screwed it all up.     This Labor Day weekend was a sobering, humbling reminder that as much growth as I have gained, I am never too far from going backward.  I can be just as apt to fall into sin as the person next to me.  Walking with Jesus is an interesting journey sometimes.  The more I walk with Him, the more I realize how broken of a person I really am.  But…I am also finding out - because of the level of my depravity - the amazing depth of God’s love and grace truly extends.  Every day I choose to depend on what Jesus did for me at the cross, I realize I don’t have to be held by my past.  God is a God who is in the process of transformation.  And I - I am still transforming.

Sin of Pitying the Poor: Forgetting the Elderly

“As long as you have breath in your lungs, God’s not done with you,” is a common phrase spoken within Christian circles. The last group I want to discuss in the series of pitying the poor is how easy it is to forget the elders.  So often, the emphasis of life is raising children and building up the next generation. I fear that sometimes we may forget the ones that have gone before us.  Those who have lived and worked suddenly enter a new chapter of retirement.  Depending on health concerns that come with age, sometimes those of the silver and golden years are treated as washed up.  Maybe it’s pure idealism.  However, if we really believe that people continue to have a purpose on earth until their dying breath, is it possible that even in a changing season, the elders still have something to give?     The matter of figuring out one’s calling is one of the highest anticipating conversations, right next to choosing a marriage partner.  But does one’s calling ever end? Or does it sometimes just shift? I’m sure that there are overarching passions and designs that God has for each individual, but perhaps the way in walking out that calling transfers as time and people come through our lives.     Concerning the elderly, I know there are still passions and heck - they have wisdom that can be shared with the younger generation.  In this season, I’m slightly mourning that leadership training can only include the younger generation, and I’m thinking, “What about any of our older members?”  But as I write, a thought comes to my mind.  Are there any elders (meaning the older population) at church who are actively stepping into leadership capacities?  How many are - on their own account - may have taken themselves out of the picture, because they have seen churches pattern their attention to the youth and/or they believe themselves to be washed up? This may be a both/and situation where people on both sides need to reach.     I admit that of the three topics in this series, I am the least knowledgeable or experienced.  But as someone who is of the age - a bridge between those who are younger and those who are older - I am mindful that a gap needs to be closed.  If the Church is a family, with Christ as the head, then family is more than just staying in our huddle spaces.  I understand that we all have our circles and close friends to whom we go to.  Nevertheless, we also need to learn how to regularly say, “hello” to people outside these circles.  If we stay within our comfort zones, families will turn into factions.  Groups will turn into cliques.  And how can the Body function as such without all our members?  As I look forward in how my Christian community can rally together, my brain is scrambling for ideas on how we can connect with those who we may only see once a week. 

The Fact that SPED Neglects to Tell - Change Still Needed

This morning was great.  I had a job interview for a SPED para position.  However, by this evening, my day has come to a mourning.  Anger and frustration…I wanted to get my license updated, as is per the law when someone moves.  However, when they noticed my right hand, and found out I live with cerebral palsy (even though it is VERY noticeable that it is a minor case), they wanted me to take a driver’s test to prove that I am a safe driver.     In my interview, I presented my apprehensions about being passed over for the concerns of having a disability.  And here it happened!  I have to jump through extra hoops, because someone found out I was disabled - and yet, I have evidence (my Montana driver’s license) that I have demonstrated myself able!  Why do I have to keep proving myself?  Can people trust that I am a capable driver?  No other able-bodied driver has to take the driver’s test when updating a license after moving.  No other able-bodied driver has to keep demonstrating they are a safe driver every time they go to the DMV.     And I get it…I live with a disability.  But come on!  With the presence of a license - with hardly any restrictions - maybe that means I don’t require those restrictions.  Ever thought of that?!  And if someone is concerned over my condition, let me share: I have to go see a medical professional annually.  If there is any change to my condition, I will discuss it with my doctor, and we will discuss if there needs to be alterations to my independent lifestyle.  However, there has been no discussion, because there hasn’t been any need for it.  But I shouldn’t have to divulge my confidential health history to prove that.     SPED gives equal opportunity for those with disabilities to reach their full potential.  But if it is required that I still have to do extra steps and have modifications that I frankly don’t need, that makes things harder on me and keeps me in a low-unable to climb-position.  I believe the word “handicapped” comes to mind.     I feel like I’m always going to have to carry medical documentation.  Perhaps a resume of all the physical accomplishments just to prove I have an ability to perform a task.  “Played softball for eight years, completed a Spartan race in 2018 (which requires carrying 40-50 lbs for women, 60-80 lbs for men, running the length of five miles)”.  I hate that I have to continue substantiating myself.  I’m tired of it!!!!!  (And is this a form of discrimination, because they are determining my ability just with a look?)     I already have the evidence that I am a capable driver (that is what a driver’s license is for, right?).  So, why not let it be?  I’m not angry at the individuals who attended to me.  I am pissed at the system.  And this is the fact that SPED has neglected to make known to parents, children and their families.  In the schools and classrooms, we aim for every student to be successful in the academic sphere.  We write IEPs, 504s, and make accommodations and modifications to the curriculum, as deemed necessary (we don’t give every accommodation, nor modification to every SPED kid, because it is a case-by-case addressing specific needs), for those who require them.  Children are not a one-size-fits-all; and we address that.  But today revealed to me that the adult world doesn’t work that way.     This is not the only example.  Last year, I wanted a 504 for my cerebral palsy, so that I could be protected in case I needed assistance with a two-handed activity.  I was told to make sure my accommodation wasn’t bumming my job onto somebody else.  After the initial meeting (which required me to go to a doctor to file medical documentation…which, like, um…look at my right hand - it’s quite evident), I never received the 504 paperwork.  Which means that I probably worked without protection all last year, for an accommodation I may have needed for my disability.  That experience showed me that if I have a need for an accommodation, an employer possibly may not consider me (which makes me even more grateful that the school I interviewed with today said they were willing to support me where it was needed, because I still have a lot to offer elsewhere).     I have two friends from church who are on disability assistance.  Both want to be contributing members of society.  However, because of their conditions, and the benefits they receive, if they were to start working, they would lose all the benefits (which they in fact, DO need).  Yes, they need assistance, but that shouldn’t mean they should be barred from working.  Heck, they are both more able-bodied than me.  But because they have a legitimate dependence on the system, the system literally handicaps their potential.     And then today.  Judging how well I can do something, although I have already done that work, is disheartening.  This isn’t asking for a doctor’s note to prove that I have a disability and yet, am safe enough to drive.  Honestly, that would be irritating if I had to get that, but it would be more understandable than a full driving test.      Maybe I should have hung my right arm lower.  Made sure they didn’t catch the look of my hand.  If one thinks I am being absurd, then please take this into account: I had driven myself to the DMV, in my own vehicle, without any modifications.  I don’t drive much differently than any other able-bodied person (because let’s face it - any other person drives one-handed anyway).  Furthermore, if they were that nervous about me being a safe driver, then why let me drive myself home?  There is an utter incongruence, and it sucks.       My dad is paying for the windshield to get fixed for the test, but that isn’t what bothers me.  It is the fact that after all this talk of a chance to thrive in one’s own community, the reality of the public is that those with disabilities are still looked down on and forced to prove their place.  How much longer must I have to validate my position and ability, before people actually believe I am indeed capable, without judgment?

Sin of Pitying the Poor: Mourning the Disabled

Tokyo 2020 Paralympics, taken from
Google Images

If anyone needs a quick source of inspiration, finding someone who has struggled with a disability of some form is an easy choice.  How can one not be inspired?  I absolutely LOVE a good overcoming a major trial story (The King’s Speech is one of my favs).  However, when it comes to those of us living with disabilities, I think, as much as we appreciate being the source of encouragement in facing obstacles, we still dismiss our actual influence if it only makes one feel gratitude over not having it as bad as other people.     Yeah.  That’s a thing.     The truth is, we all have challenges.  We all go through things that make us question, “God, are You real?  If so, are You even listening?”  And yes, as a body of believers, it is important to show how God has been faithful in our individual storms to bring comfort (see 2 Corinthians 1:4).  But living with a disability and overcoming the hardships isn’t my only gift.  And dissuading you from feeling the pain of your hurt, in the name of “it isn’t as bad as hers”, will not help you to grieve through the process, ask the faith-based questions that are needed, and see how God can show Himself present in your situation.     Ironically, though we have IDEA (Individuals with Disabilities Education Act of 1990), and Special Education has grown in their aim to bring out the best in every student, no matter their ability level, sometimes we settle.  We settle for life skills.  We settle on teaching social norms.  We are educating those (my mind is considering those mostly with a form of cognitive delay) in such a way where they can function in society, reasonably.  We are willing to befriend people with disabilities, in an effort to be nice.  But would we ever dare to be friends with them, for real?  I mean - the kind of friend where there is mutual trust and having each other’s back?  Most of our approach in inviting the disabled’s gifts is in a matter of self-soothing or alleviating the conscious.     Back when I was still doing my internship, I had to read a book called Garden City.  The premise was that work was good, and a goal in life for every human is to cultivate the world around them.  Quoting the late Tim Keller, “Work is rearranging the raw material of God’s creation in such a way that it helps the world in general, and people in particular thrive and flourish.”  The author, John Comer, furthermore added, “We glorify God by reshaping the raw materials of the world in such a way that, for those with eyes to see, God’s beauty and presence are made visible.”     I was reading this right before doing a sub gig in a special education class, and all I could think to myself was, Am I doing enough for my students so that they are actually thriving and not just getting by?  Am I actually seeking out the gold nugget that God put in them, and willing to draw it out?   Have I bought into the lie that those with disabilities (more severe than mine) can only contribute to society in a limited capacity?  Or, have I determined that God wouldn’t call someone with physical or mental disability, as He would call someone without?     I asked these questions - being a special education teacher AND living with a disability myself.  Honestly, I should know better, but even I have had my lapses where I misjudged the width of what someone could contribute based on their ability.  Cripes…  And yet, I don’t think God is limited by our limits.  Nor does He determine our callings solely on what we can bring.  Yes, His strength is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).  But He is also the one who uses the weak to confound the wise (1 Corinthians 1:20-29).      So often we mourn over those who are disabled, because we now see their lack.  We question what their futures hold.  I do not mean to naively idealize that anything is possible, because “we just need to set our minds to it”.  Rather, I am now reminded that God is greater than anything our stories can be written.  He can do…what only He could imagine being done.  So often, we determine credibility by the amount of effort, education gained, the amount of people known, and the experience lengthened.     But God seems to get more glory when the credibility doesn’t seem to fit.  God used a murderer to be one of the most impacting missionaries in the first century (Saul/Paul of Tarsus).  He used an uneducated fisherman to introduce the Gospel and Holy Spirit to the Gentiles (Simon Peter).  He used a man who struggled with depression and suicidal tendencies to strike fear into an unrighteous king (Elijah).  He used an orphan girl to save a nation (Esther).  In all of these examples, it wasn’t about what they could or couldn’t bring.  It was a matter that God called them, positioned them, and equipped them for the work He set out for them.     On the matter of those with disabilities - we must approach them in the same manner.  I know a diagnosis will require a season of grief - after all, the life’s plan has upped and changed.  But when the tears have come and gone, I think it’s of the utmost and imperative step to then ask God what He has up His sleeve.  Ask Him what the treasure and gift the person holds.  God created an entire person, and it is not only determined by their disability.  He has knitted every child in the womb; He knows each one by name.  And still, He chooses, and He calls.  Who are we to say that God, in all of His sovereignty, could not use such ones who have a disability?     And maybe in all of this discussion, this is the lesson to glean: that there are those who were disabled, and they stepped into their calling, in spite of what lack they had, not a sense of giving gratitude to a family who doesn’t have it as hard.  (Can you imagine the ache in a mother’s heart knowing that some are relieved they don’t have to have her specific trials?  It would hurt.)  But rather, are we each willing to step into the things God has called us, no matter what lack of credibility or ability, or surmountable fears or struggles we bring to the table?  It is those who have dared to go where God has sent them, in spite of threat or adversity that we find the heroes that inspire us.  It was never supposed to be about proving one had a place in society; it was about becoming who God already planned that person to be and equipping them to walk it out. 

Disability Pride? Month

Colors represent: Green- sensory disabilities, 
Blue -psychiatric disabilities, White -
undiagnosed/unseen disabilities, Gold -
neurodivergent or cognitive/intellectual disabilities, 
Red - physical disabilities

Last month was Disability Pride Month, and though from the disabled community, I was perplexed as to what exactly I should be proud of.  Pride insinuates something good - something to be celebrated.  I didn’t know that living with paralysis was something I should glorify.  Or what about living with cognitive delay or mental health issues? Or being overwhelmed by sensory impulses?  This is supposed to be all celebrated?  Granted, I am assuming that if there is any pride involved, it matters more about how I have overcome obstacles.  Nevertheless, I think that the wording is missing the point of what the disability community really needs.     I don’t mind a month dedicated to educating the public about those with disabilities.  We have fought hard to be integrated as part of society and be seen as equal members of the populus.  However, if there is a nationally recognized month, I prefer the term “Awareness”.  I want people to understand the actual complexities of specific disabilities.  I want them to know how not to jump to conclusions of what I can or cannot do, based on what my disability may be.  I want them to see me beyond the disability.  Most of all, I want it understood that the disability is only a component of my life, not the sum of it.  Disability is not my identity.     I appreciate the notion that because of how complications can be introduced due to the various disabilities, people want to celebrate us for the moments we overcome obstacles.  But celebrate my personhood, not my disability.  I realize that in writing this, I am treading on a controversial topic.  Other people from the disabled community may (and probably do) disagree with my position.  Note: I am speaking for myself.  They want to celebrate the disability, because it has made their children or personhood the way it is.  It has been the cause for tears, confusion, but also resilience and hope.  I acknowledge that.     One reason that I’m up for any physical challenge is because early on, people wondered if I could do something.  So, the best way to answer their questions was to prove them wrong.  I have accomplished SO much, in spite of my physical limitations.  I cannot deny how living with a disability has affected my life, including the trials and the testimonies (to put it in Christian lingo).  But growing into adulthood, pride over my disability has grown.  And not in a positive way.     Because my reality, now, is that because I learned early on to prove people wrong about misconceptions, I still have the mindset, whether or not people are judging me.  I am still in fight mode.  I still try to make myself physically tough in front of new crowds, out of fear that I may be looked at as weak.  I know asking for help is a healthy thing to do, but years of making sure that I wasn’t the handicapped one in the group has made my heart learn not to trust.  I have determined it not to be a good thing to be in need.  This isn’t pride.  This is insecurity.     We need to bring education about disabilities into the public eye.  I am leery of how it may be done - in the name of pride.  Because as a component of pride, it raises the subject high above all else.  “Look at me!  I got CP!  Look at my right side!  Woohoo!”  Do you realize how NOT desirable that is for a kid growing up in elementary school?  I wanted to be seen for me, not just for my ability (or lack thereof).  And maybe that is the whole point of the Disability Pride Month - an acknowledgement of those with disabilities, an education to understand the said complications, and finally, a pride that they are part of the overall community.  I still don’t agree with the terminology, but I would understand it more, if that is the intention.     Nevertheless, pride still has an ugly connotation in my book.  Because, as a Christian, I believe that when I am in heaven, I no longer am going to be disabled.  I will have a new body; one that is perfect and will not have any issues.  There will be no more pain.  There will be no more sorrow.  There will be no more disability.  That doesn’t mean the personhood of the individual with the disability is no more, however.  I do wonder if those with autistic and creative traits will keep the creative traits but lose the inability to read social cues.  Those with cognitive delay will keep their sense of innocence and joy but lose their inability to grasp onto maturing concepts.  Those with bipolar will still have their personalities but lose their inability to control emotions.     In these examples, the disabilities will be lost, but who God created them at their core is not going to be lost.  After all, the disabilities we live with are not our identity; just one of the themes in the stories of our lives.  This is what should be celebrated in the month of July when Disability Awareness/Pride Month.  It isn’t the condition that should be celebrated, but the person.  It isn’t the trial, but rather the enablement and gift that is found in each person.  I realize trials are part of our stories, but it isn’t the cumulation of who we are.  And if someone wants to dare sit with us, we’ll show you how.

Sin of Pitying the Poor: Looking Down on the Impoverished

      It seems to be a rite of passage for every teen who grew up in the church.  No, not attending youth camps, although that brings its own experience in of itself.  I mean the spring/summer break mission trips. The object of our attention usually involved serving the poor - by that - I mean the impoverished.  Either because the homeless was our aim, or going to a rough area that was plagued by trauma, death, addiction, low-income families were the pursuit.  And many times, the lesson that was brought back from the experience was the amazing gracious hearts of those served.  How they were so generous with the little they had.     Wait.  Wasn’t the trip supposed to be about serving them?  Oh, don’t worry. There was that component, as well.  So often, there is a highlighted note that the poor are receiving so much of what we, as Americans can give.  And yes, we should be generous with the gifts that we have, as one of the wealthiest countries in the world.  However, in my observations, I have found a subtle lofty idea of giving what we have, but only receiving the tangible gifts of those we minister.     I am grateful that my youth pastor challenged my peers to bring back the lessons we learned from our mission trips.  Otherwise, I think we would have come out of these experiences thinking too highly of ourselves.  “Look how much we helped them!  See how they blessed us!”  Uh, wasn’t this supposed to be about Jesus?  Frankly, sometimes though we look to alleviate their circumstances of the poor, we still think of ourselves as superior.  We are guilty of pitying them.     Pity has a different connotation than empathy or sympathy.  The latter two communicate a willingness to sit in with a person’s sorrow and really understand them.  Pity, adversely, sees the sorrow, but can lack compassion.  And maybe there is a level of compassion in mission work - after all - why else travel to these unfortunate places if not to help better them?  The mistake I see, nevertheless, is that often (short-term) missionaries see that they are bringing something for the people but leave no room to actually learn from those whom they are serving.  This is where - even in the most evangelistic ways of showing Jesus, negative stereotypes can be perpetuated.     The truth is that every group of people is broken.  Every group of people is littered with sin.  But more so, every group of people has been made in the image of God.  And with their languages, cultures and perspectives, each group of people has an understanding of Jesus that we can learn from one another.  We create a grave mistake when visiting the poor and commenting on how they are so willing to bless out of their lack, then move on to the next subject.  Why not learn from them?  As an American, are you willing to bless others even out of your lack?  Oh wait, but God surely wouldn’t ask you to do that…But peoples’ lack may differ.  And are we willing to trust Jesus, nonetheless? That is the lesson.     When we choose to pity the impoverished, we only see where they are suffering.  We forget to see the gift in them that God innately created within them.  We fail to see our needs and deny our own brokenness - and the truth is - there is something in my brothers and sisters in third world countries that we, as Americans, so desperately require.  Are we willing to invite them into our lives and share with us what Jesus has given them?  Furthermore, are we willing to open our hearts to see things from a different perspective, so that we may grow in ways that we never would have, if they were never a part of our lives?      I learned so much from living with Natives what grace actually looks like.  I learned how to mourn with others in sorrow, rather than alone.  I learned how to laugh and joke even in the face of hardship.  These are lessons that I missed in the Western culture.  When I was visiting Jordan, it was there that I learned about the “new life” that baptism represents, not just dying to my sins…which, understanding the power of the gospel, it is crucial to have both components.  (Could you imagine if the Gospel was only including the death to our sins?  It would mean having to wait until heaven to have fruit from our sanctification!)     We miss so much when we are only aiming to serve the poor, as if they have no gift of eternal value.  Honestly, I think it’s a crime in the eyes of God.  I wonder if so much of the racism that has perpetuated over centuries is due to the nonsense that we have something to give, but the ones we serve have nothing to give (unless it benefits monetarily…hint, hint, imperialism).  The body is of many parts.  And we function best, when we have every component bringing what they have to build the kingdom of heaven.  So, when we go on mission, let us remember the words of a British friend of mine who has served in South Africa: “Wherever you are called, you will receive from the nations, and you will deposit to the nations.”  Nations, together, bring Jesus to the world.