Blessing: God's Father's Heart Benefits Us

 A thought: So often, we want God's blessings and favor poured out on our lives, and sometimes, I wonder, if we misunderstand what His blessing and favor are. We often assume that it is the good stuff, or the things, people, answers to prayers where we get the "happy ending" story. But what if God's blessings and favor are the things, that as a Father, He seeks to BENEFIT us, whether the outcome brings a battle or a smile? Can we trust that God is good - and means good for us - even when we lack a tangible or visible good? Can we believe we are blessed, while in poverty, in suffering, in trials, being corrected, while in doubt or lonely, because we have been redeemed by and have a relationship with Jesus? Or do we only believe we are blessed when we are in the company of abundance?

The Casualty of a Broken World?

How do I enter Your gates With praise, while I wake With tormenting thoughts in the night? It isn’t fair that the dawn Meant to bring new mercies Ushers in new fears.

The burden of sorrow
Remains in the absence
Of their presence;
No memory created; and yet,
Their existence is not forgotten.

Was this just an ambush of the devil?
Were not enough prayers lifted

To actualize Your will tangibly?
Is taking thoughts captive
Equate as denial?

I do not mean to speak
Sacrilegious heresies against Your throne.
However, if I silence articulations
Plaguing my dreams, I fear
The toll it will steal from my faith.

In Your sovereignty,
Where was Your rescue for them?
Is it to be consolation
That my brother and I survived,
Though the other was a casualty
Of a broken creation?
I know they knew no pain
Beyond death’s grave;
But is that supposed to serve as comfort?

Why were they not allotted
Your protection?
You are God; Lord of all things!
Why didn’t they receive the favor of life?
Or is Your response that
Their breath is one which will never end?

I cannot tell if my torment
Is out of guilt or jealousy.
Because of former stings, I quake
For my children’s lives.
What kind of life is that for a mother -
Cowering, instead of
Carrying hope and joy?
Is this what soldiers feel
After a battle’s finish?
God, I do not seek death.
I just wish they lived.

There are no pictures;
No gender announcements;
No name
Save that which heaven hosts.
And I must wait until my death
To greet them.
Not knowing if their life was snuffed

To serve as a mercy
Killing - no…You are not sadistic.
Such an action would hint a choice
As an avoidance of pain
Rather than carrying compassion
For the one enduring Lucifer’s influence.

Where is Your glory
Between
The silent and hidden past
And
The restoration for the future?
This isn’t even my child I mourn!
They were my mother’s,
However!

Perhaps there has been a grief
I have not been allowed to weep
Why would You choose me to live
And they die?
Did they see You move in their short story?
Lastly, because of their tale,
Along with others’ who remain untold,
Must any of my children suffer
Their shadow?  Or will You intervene?
Please…in the name of Jesus,
Break this cycle that plagues my family,
Haunts my mind
And robs my joy.

I don’t understand
Why You move and when
And when You refrain…
Why some are rescued now
And others have to wait until eternity.
Even asking these questions
Feels as if I’m in rebellion.

But if You were willing to suffer
Peter’s comparison to John,
And was willing to enter the mud and
Wrestle with Jacob for a new name,
Then can You bring solace
To a heart that hasn’t ever been given
The space to bury a sibling
And mourn a life that is wished
Could have been?
Maybe if there was a grave,
I could believe death
Would not have its resurrection.

#PPDAwareness  #Miscarriage  #TraumaInformedChristianity

Singed

Secret tears have fallen.
Scars carved remain hidden.
Emotions reveal an increasing tension;
A story told that may not be shared.
Yet, even if my mouth refuses
To utter the news,
You still know it.

Do I stand a chance
With the likes of Rocky?
I do not know how many times
I can fall, before I fail to return
To my feet, once more.
Must I beg for what I desire?

You said I wouldn't get burned,
But my clothes smell like smoke.
You said I was covered by Your hand,
But the hurricanes in life have hurled its growl.
The lions' mouths may have been shut,
Nevertheless, their claws came close.

The arrows of the night
Made their mark upon my brow.
Hope feels like it's been stolen
As fear haunts the memory
Of what was supposed to be joyful.
Can my grievances be redeemed?

Why, when the storms come,
It seems the wind and waves
Refuse to be still?
Am I to be like Job;
To go through hell
That heaven's face be seen?
Is this the agony
Many Christians feel
When beckoning for Your second
Coming to be revealed?

I know You 
Are sovereign, righteous, and good.
However, what is the deliverance 
You aim to achieve?
I know pain will be eradicated
In the second phase of Your salvation.
When you said that Your kingdom had come,
Will I be able to witness 
The fulfillment, even to an extent?

I need to find joy,
Believe in hope,
Stand in faith
And love in truth.
Help me, Jesus,
To refuse becoming a cynic -
Heal my mind from this trauma
That desires for my disappointment;
Compelling me toward destruction
In convincing me to believe something
Other than Your nature.
Help me to see Your face
In all of this.

(See Psalm 91 and 94; #PPDAwareness)

A New Mother's Joy

 (See Luke 1:47-55)

Hallelujah to the One
Who introduced me to you!
Praise be the One
Who brings redemption
From the dry places
And renews the heart
With long-awaited dreams!
Blessed be His name!

For I could not imagine
The visions He held
For me, to hold you in my arms.
I didn't fathom this goodness
To be my future.
But here you are,
My precious child!!

And the ones He destined
To be in my life,
I would not change 
Its course or story writ.
You are magnificent!
Perfectly made in the image
Of the One who knew your name
Before I thought of your existence.

You are dearly loved,
Cherished, and my treasure!
I get to proclaim
You are Mine;
The grandest legacy
I could call my own.
To bear you is a responsibility
I do not carry lightly.
There is a glory
In your humanity being entrusted
Within my arms.

I pray that my words and actions
Credit Jesus, and honors you.
My body given to be 
Stretched, cut, bled and scarred
So that you may have life.
You are my pride and joy.
It was worth it;
And I would do it again,
All for you.
Becoming your mother
Is the greatest description
Of God's handiwork
In my life being manifested.

Obtained on friend's Facebook account

The Lesson of Worship from My Late Uncle

      

Gary Hall, as a teen or early 20s, showcasing 
his love for the accordion.  He would play the
instrument until his death,
forty some years later.

He wasn’t the outspoken kind.  He didn’t draw a crowd with a charismatic personality.  He wasn’t the evangelistic type. Generous at heart, but wasn’t known for doing outreach.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get to know this uncle very well, while he was still alive.  But the few things I remember of him, he sure loved fishing, giving out of what was readily available in his pocket (usually, a piece of hard candy), easy to find him with a smile on his face, and he enjoyed music.     He came from a family where music was a common factor.  As far as I know, many if not all, were of the kind that were trained from at home and secondary school, rather than collegiately.  Some sang, others played guitar or piano.  Uncle Gary picked up the accordion.  And played it with as much exuberating emotion as one could muster.  Was he always on key?  Probably not.  Was it the background music that any of us expected to find for our family conversations?  Again, unlikely.  Nonetheless, he played, paying no mind to surrounding opinions.  He was in his world, and while he played, he did so with a sense of freedom.     I don’t know how one would measure the spiritual maturity of my Uncle Gary, but as a Christian…I wish I could have the same kind of freedom in worship as he had.  I know that whatever we do, we should do with excellence.  We shouldn’t do things “for God” with a poor effort and lack of care.  However, I have found myself in a space where as much as I desired to do things well, I still could tell I fell short.  No matter what I worked hard at, no matter how much training I accrued to hone in whatever skills I wanted to develop, if I failed in one area, then what was it for?     You know what’s funny?  In a worship service, the ones who seem the most free are either the ones who know they have the musical talent and skill to stay in tune, OR, it is the ones who have absolutely NO skill and ain’t worried about trying to prove something they know they aren’t.     I think somewhere we have forgotten the freedom of the latter worshipper.  Yes, we should do all things heartily as to the Lord and not to men (Colossians 3:23).  Whatever we do, we should do for the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31, generalized application).  But what if we have become so obsessed with trying to do things so well that we have forgotten the joy of glorifying the God we worship?  We become critical, more than jubilant.  We desire perfection on display, rather than the journey of the process.  Pleasing the Lord then takes a form where it is dependent on how much we can do, more than the work He has already prepared for, and is developing in, us.     We can claim that what we do for God is worship…but if we are weighing the worth of our offerings by the perfection of our own abilities and standards of our peers, then is it really worship at all?  Are we doing a work really for God, or for others?  Whose glory are we actually fighting for?  Sometimes, we lose track, because we are more focused on how the view of our worship may look to the outsiders than feeling the pleasure of God’s delight in His creation, when we bow before Him.     I wish I could do whatever work for God with a sense of joy of who He is, more than how it could be a proof of how good I was to Him.  Whether it be a skill I have developed, or even in an area that is outside my comfort zone.  I remember when I picked up the guitar in college.  Over the course of a decade, the instrument collected dust now and again, because frankly, as much as it was a joy to play, it was not easy with a hand that is semi-paralyzed.  Playing songs always took four times as long, and even if I practiced, I eventually would resort to singing acapella.  Eventually, I gave the guitar away, knowing it was better to have someone else play it regularly than for me to hold onto something that I wished I was better at.  Then one day, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper, “You know why I wanted you to have the guitar (for that time)?  Because I wanted you to enjoy something without the pressure to prove anything.”     Like the out-of-key, loudest singer in a church congregation, the goal was always supposed to be about how I could declare the goodness of who God is, rejoice in the relationship I have with Him because of Jesus’ salvation, and glorify Him, no matter what the world’s opinion may be.   I wish I had the freedom my Uncle Gary had.  He would just whip out that accordion like it was no one’s business.  And maybe, it wasn’t.  He just played and played.  Sometimes with deep concentration, other times, with a smile.  But this instrument was played all through his life, as a form of joy on display.  If only we could worship Jesus with the same level of freedom. “Lord, I will offer myself freely, and everything I am I give to you.  I will worship and praise Your name, O Lord, for it is precious to me [I thank You God- You’re so good (MSG)].” - Psalm 54:6, The Passion Translation

We Do Practice What We Preach

I found out, recently, that a former youth was in a car accident.  She sustained a broken hip, and while being in the hospital, is unable to care for her son.  While checking in with her, she mentioned that she needed to get back to church.  That she needed to quit drinking and focus on her family.      Disclaimer: I am a words person.  She may have meant Jesus, but something told me that she may still felt that her hope for change was misguided. Even by a little.     So, while I love hearing the repentant heart of this young lady…wanting to change her life and better her family, I found myself at a loss of how to support her and direct her in her suffering.  Because, in her mind…she needed to get back to church.  What happened to getting back to Jesus? While I was able to encourage her that she can meet Jesus while in the hospital, the verbalizing that the church was to be the answer to her soul concerns bothered me.     How did I mess this up, as a youth leader?  Where did I go wrong with this “kid”?     I know where.  Truth is, in all the ‘good work’ I did on the Rez - and some of it did bear fruit - I have since realized I may have been guilty of pointing my teens more toward religious rhetoric and church tradition, rather than to Jesus.  And that fact relays a deeper reality about myself than I would care to admit.     I could be the most doctrinally sound person in speech, but we don’t necessarily preach what we teach.  We preach what we live.  The paradox about calling out hypocritical pastors is the matter that society has become frustrated when actions fail to match the words they profess.  Even the hypocritical do practice what they preach.  The hint of their true belief system lies in how they say something, as well as repeating certain themes they are impassioned about.  This looking at the belief system of anyone is true for any Christian.     For me, I learned that although Jesus saved me through His work on the cross, it was still important to prove this change in me by doing X, Y, and Z.  “If I really loved God, I would _________…If I really loved Him, I wouldn’t do _________.” That coupled with an impoverished sense of self-esteem left me feeling like I had to do more to truly trust the love of God, as well as the people around me.  To this day, I still struggle with believing I am unconditionally loved, when I do what is expected or do something wrong.  I need to stop believing in the “Jesus+” mentality.  I need this change, because I remain dependent on how much I can do.  As a result, I am missing the essence of the gospel, and worse yet, I will lead others to do the same.     As for this former student, I’m thankful that this car accident (where alcohol was a factor) is a wake-up call for her to change her life.  I can’t minimize these moments, because I do know that God uses them to draw people near to Him.  It is a sad reality that we seem to acknowledge our sin when we see its effect on others.  We can hide it, deny it, even tolerate it - but when we see how our sin hurts others, we change.  I am thankful that God is once again, knocking on her heart.     That being said, I don’t want “church” to be the answer, and getting her life “better” be the aim.  I want her to go directly to Jesus.  HE needs to be the focus.  I say this not only for my student, but for myself, as well.  I know I have fallen into the trap of using Jesus’ name to bring solace to a broken world, and stopped short of helping them develop a trusting relationship with Him.  I beckoned for disciplinary steps (i.e. “now that you are saved, start reading your Bible, praying and sharing your faith).  And this is what I preached, because I practiced this myself.  I believed that I was saved by grace, but had to live by works.     I believed my worth was found in proving it, and subsequently, I influenced others to do the same.  And this is the fruit of those actions: finding out my students think that merely going to church will fix what is wrong in their lives.  Yet, in retrospect, there is a vicious cycle of my students falling in and out of church; falling in and out of trust with Jesus, because they have sought the Savior for the benefit of comforting a temporary pain, rather than the cure of their soul’s sinful demise.  They have sought Jesus for making life better, but not to seek an intimate relationship.  Something has to change, and it has to begin with me.

Judge Me...Not!

 Go ahead and state I am pulling away; Therefore, that is why I feel isolated. However, cause and effect Don’t always correlate. You remain in confusion; All I was trying to ask for Was better communication.

But since we are on the topic… Of my desire for deeper friendships - There are scars covered, Wounds I bear in silence. There are names I could run through mud And reputations I could ruin, If I shared openly. But in an effort to address The pain Without placing blame, Attempting to seed areas of growth, My lips will remain shut On certain evidence.

For even while I was in the group,
I knew I still needed to be
Prepared to serve.
I knew if I shared my internal secrets,
It would be too much.
Some tears are too sacred
To bring forward to just anyone.
Even while I was welcomed,
There were moments of exclusion.

Everyone else already had their friends.
Even while I was surrounded
By smiling faces,
The moment I felt led into
A different direction,
Those faces would fade
From my presence.
I could refrain from being absent,
And still remain lonely.
This is what you are missing:
Was I ever part of your circle
More than in name only?

You are trying to understand,
I give you that credit.
But the more I explain,
The more we miss the other’s intention.
Is it worth saying any more?

If you feel led
To remove me from my position,
I will gladly submit.
I desire no power.
Honestly, I need the freedom
To become who God wants me to be,
And to focus on what He wants me to do.

Where my family is feeling led
Isn’t congruent with your expectations
In the creation of your dreams.
Are we only celebrated when
Family is built upon
Within your jurisdiction and expression?
Must we fit within the dimensions
Of your box or under your banner?

We want to be connected,
But it requires a different way.
We pull away, because we are being pulled elsewhere.
Until that is understood,
I feel we are stuck.
No matter what I say,
Nothing changes.
And I am left feeling like
All the responsibility for any growth
Is upon my shoulders.
Frankly, that sucks.

Are we at a crossroads?
Is it better to part?
I do wonder…
After all, it is not fair
For either of us to pressure the other
To conform to something
God hasn’t ordained.